#maybe it would be on the site for one of the secondhand places i go but when i've looked in person they've never had any good place

[autumnrory]

i still want sailor moon on dvd but that's clearly impossible without shelling out a ton of money

[punderfullll]

Where would you recommend looking to purchase Touhou cosplay outfits? I've been looking through EZcosplay, But I'm really skeptical of the how the quality may be. Are there other sites that you think would be better? I know you make a lot of your outfits by hand, but I really just don't have the skills to do anything wonderful like that. Thanks! Love your work!!!

Hello! First off thank you so much! I do make some of my stuff but typically if I am buying cosplays I do so secondhand. Mostly because it saves me a bit of money! So sadly I do not have a lot of experiences purchasing new! However I'll try to help the best I can with what I know :D! If you are interested in buying secondhand please send me a message and I'll send you my big info pile on it. I have a lot more experience with it in comparison so I have a ton of links and information on it! Ok so for new! I think the best place currently in terms of price and quality is typically Taobao. A lot of stores like aliexpress and other online shops that sell touhou cosplays are often just reselling from Taobao. Buying off Taobao can be a little tricky but you will need a proxy. I know a few touhou cosplayer mutuals of mine have had a lot of success with bhiner cosplay It is basically a taobao proxy with a focus on cosplay and there is a whole touhou section here <--- I have only ordered here once and it was for a Yukari Parasol prop. It was a pretty good experience overall and the quality was nice. The only major issue recently is I've hear Bhiner has stopped accepting paypal for payment. I'd have to try to put an order in to confirm that but it might be something worth looking into another proxy for! At the very least its a great way to browse what is currently being sold and bhiner always links the actual taobao stores themselves, so you could easily go through another proxy! Another touhou cosplayer also made a handy guide on buying some of the more fancy premades as well I'll also link that here <------ A very helpful guide!! I bought a costume off a cosplayer that bought it from a shop called fm-anime . Can't speak for the ordering process but the quality pretty good! It was a Touhouvania Alice cosplay. It looks like they have limited stock these days with touhou but it might be worth a look! RoleCosplay seems to have a decent selection and even some less popular touhou characters. I've never ordered off here myself though so I'd maybe look into reviews a bit more! Maybe I should put in a test order and do a review one day LOL EzCosplay (as you stated) I have heard mixed things about! It used to be regarded as a pretty okay place to get Touhou cosplays from but more recently I've seen some people complain about sizing issues and quality in regards to their photos vs product etc! So I'd maybe avoid that one! Lastly there was this google doc made a little while ago with some shops listed. I do not know if this is up to date but I thought I'd share https://docs.google.com/document/d/12w82AVDHKmJ1dKRRZ3CAYiy1S5TbqOR_o91NCJVqgUQ/edit Also there is a touhou cosplay discord I could get you the invite to (just send me a message first) Its full of really nice and supportive people and theres a cosplay shopping talk channel and lots of people with experience there that can help out! There's also a secondhand cosplay sale channel as well if you wanted to buy directly off another cosplayer! Anyways I hope that helped. Again please feel free to message me anytime if you need specific help. I'm always happy to help people cosplay touhou in any way possible :D If you have a specific character you want to do I can try and get as many links for you put together that I can as well!!

[wiltf]

orion gives you the same old warning about smoking as he always does when you duck out. but you still haven’t figured out if he knows knows, and is ribbing you — or if this is one of the few things he genuinely hasn’t worked out.

same weird thought, that you have every time. like a lil worm, crawling in the space between your ears, while you tap the bottom of the pack. cigarette between your fingers, chilling there like an old friend. hey, it says, when will you actually light me? and you consider that thought for what feels like an eternity.

instead, you’re in the dingy alley, twirling that same cigarette now. up and over your knuckles, a half-hearted apology sent iris’ way. eventually you’ll ditch it, or palm it off to someone who happens to walk by. they won’t remember asking, and you will be able to return, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

lighter in your other hand, fished out of your jacket. emblazoned with a four-leaf clover, electric green but not flaring. couple more times. still nothing.

huh. you hadn’t planned for this.

what was it that rowan said? chaos theory? did you hear that right, on the way out? tilt your head, left and right, as you try with all your might to get the shitty lighter to work. maybe this was the work of orion, trying to stop you. and you want to say, orion! let me just bask in the evil that is secondhand smoke!

instead, what you hear is the very unfortunate decrying of a teenager trying to give directions for a photo. you’d know that tone anywhere, because you had employed it more than once on se—some poor individual. snort, then, as you watch the family comedy routine take place. honestly, at this time of night, it would be better for the would-be photographer to step onto the road.

at that moment, your light finally seems to work, burning the tip of your finger. you hiss, shaking it out, lighter and smoke dropping to the dingy sidewalk. well, you were planning on ditching the cigarette anyway, and you swoop down, lighter safely in your hand. thumb following that raised clover like an old friend, when you notice your little accident had attracted the attention of the teenager.

the enthusiasm is half a second of endearing, but you manage to pull apart her words. big fan. leading fan site. maya has a shine in her eye that reminds you of the first time you went to a misfit alley concert, except she’s wrapped up in something not too dissimilar to what you were wearing now — jean jacket, boots, dress. super fan with your damn favourite flower tucked behind her ear.

it’s all sweet and shine. recognise the father — sebastian, cute, couldn’t order to save his life — and indulge in a photo or two. pose, like you hadn’t just burnt your fingers and weren’t about to spend some time ruminating on a certain number’s appearance at your audition. wasn’t about to consider hitting that drunk dial in the next three point five hours.

wasn’t gonna somehow figure out how to walk home, drunk, sad and alone.

you’re a mess. you’re smiling into the lens. fingers in that fucking old rock ’n’ roll pose, tongue out. maya is all squeals and bounces and texts in a flurry. it’s so easy to keep your eyes on her, because there is something in there you are too young to think you’ve lost, but already too old to go back to.

seven second breather, between the photos and the texting. always with that punchy number, as maya talks about the first EP. the first real one, that still contains—

yeah, well, they say you never forget your first.

crack a smile, because sebastian gives you a look. can’t let the man know how much of a shithead sad girl you are, even when maya emphasises about following you on tour — if you win. if chaos theory doesn’t intercept.

if the stars align and you can sleep at night, knowing it’ll be months of—

god, fuck, jen! shut up! talk to the kid!

“we have to get our results first, which—“ hitch a thumb over your shoulder, “i should probably check out.”

“right, yeah. maya, we should go, too.” a nod, neutral, understanding. respect the man, fear the kid.

as the sparkle in her eye doesn’t go, when perhaps, it’s the most shy she’s been. pulling the flower from the tangle of hair, and holding it out at such an angle that it’s something you’re half expecting her to take back.

but she doesn’t, instead you’re pretty sure she damn near collapses when you tuck it right back where it belongs. “definitely suits you better than me, tonight, i think.”

treat yourself like a toddler now, telling yourself to wave goodbye, as maya perhaps suffers a heart palpitation or two. as her father looks on, torn between smiling at the excitement bubbling from his daughter, and just what he might get himself into.

back into the safety of cement and dim lighting and the clover, ridged, safe, under your thumb. chaos theory. perfume and cigarette smoke and chaos theory. carry that mantra with you, back to the waiting room, wondering just how late you might be.

[formulatrash]

Hazel, do you prefer evergreen or timely content? Which one do you like to write/read the most?

Also, would someone consider himself a “news writer” if he simply reads what other publications are writing and then rewrites the news in his own style? (If he can’t attend press conferences and sports events himself). I see many websites do this and I was wondering if that’s okay to do or not.

I know it’s weird to ask these questions but I’m new to sports writing and I don’t want to fail because it’s my dream. I’m sorry if I bothered you. You are a really great writer and I would like to hear your advice. 😊

uhm, I guess both of them have their role. there are some pieces that are always relevant but especially in sport, things change very rapidly.

re: news writing. I think there is a mix here. so, yes, you can be a news reporter who is reporting on other people's first-hand sources. like, say, this piece I wrote about drivers reporting pain from porpoising. technically, none of the quotes in it were from sessions the Drive had been in, so I referenced them back to publications I knew had been. even though I'd been working for RaceFans that weekend, it hadn't been my quotes, so the right thing to do is link back to where they're published.

a lot of news is secondhand, not just in motorsport but generally and so long as you link back to sources and reference where quotes are from, that's ok.

where people get mad is when publications wholesale lift quotes with no credit. sometimes it's ok to do this if it's eg: from the transcript of the FIA press conference that gets published on their website after the race or a lot of places do it from TV interviews. Generally, it's best to at least say where the quote was said, so "speaking in the post-race press conference, Verstappen called George Russell 'a mean, nasty man'" or "In a post-qualifying interview with Sky Sports F1, Lando inevitably berated himself for only dragging that tractor to seventh, saying 'it should have been fourth.'"

it's also worth being creative about who you speak to, if you're not at the track. I wasn't in Miami last year but managed to get an exclusive about the turn 14-15 area where drivers had heavy crashes because I got in touch with the people who made the barriers. it was an unusual way of doing it, maybe but it meant I got the information that that area couldn't have Tecpro because it had to be opened to traffic every night the track was there.

the basic advice of: be fair, don't claim anything that isn't yours is pretty useful. with news writing it's also worth, if you're going to be reporting it after the sites that were in conferences and at events, working out what the sensible angle is. can you add more explanatory detail than a breaking story? are there stats that can be dug into? are there things from previous events you can reference that might not go into a short, breaking story? re-reporting for the sake of re-reporting isn't likely to drive traffic but being able to give something more will get more readers; ask yourself 'now I've read the original article, what would make me read mine?'

good luck and I hope that you get to achieve your dreams :)

[orangepunkwitch-blog]

I'm at my desk briefly because I had to make sure that I didn't fuck up some code when I changed the display pic (I got no idea how goofed this site has become when it comes to functionality anymore). I successfully did it without an issue.

The photo used for my display pic was taken by my muž yesterday. The significance of this as my display pic is that in Serbian folklore, it is believed that witches turned into butterflies. And I adored this photo that he took.

I use "witch" and "veštica" interchangeably from a US context, not from a Serbian one, where there's a difference between a "witch" and a magical practitioner. I don't know if "veštica" is used in a derogatory manner there like... I think "vedma" is (and I think that's the female version). I'm foggy on my memory and can't remember where to look that up.

Real quick before I hop off here for about a week, I wanna point everyone here to some sources if you REALLY need info right now:

Radomir Ristic - He was an ethnographer who released 2 books that I have read, which were Balkan Traditional Witchcraft and Witchcraft and Sorcery of the Balkans. A third book of his is supposed to come out called Vešticja Bašta: A Witch's Garden which would cover the Balkan lore, occult, and other such properties surrounding herbs and plants. Unfortunately, despite having a release date that kept getting pushed back, all site that had it up for pre-order now say that it's temporarily out of stock. I'm certain that it may have something to do with his death, as he passed away in early 2020 from a respiratory illness (it wouldn't surprise me if it was covid back then before we knew what this virus was at that time). The first book, the translation is kinda choppy, so watch out for that. (It's also important to note that no matter what your path or practice is, try to find academic sources if you can! For anyone looking for Balkan (especially Serbian) sources, Radomir's is a good start!) I know Amazon is a shit company, but here's a link for at least the list of books by him in case you wanna search on other sites. There's also some kinda journal with several issues he has some work in but I don't know anything about them, and therefore cannot give you my opinion on them.

Vladimir Zlatic (my alt code thing won't let me get the correct letter here) - This guy was raised in rural Serbia, so he does his best to share in English what he has learned, both from what he was told growing up as well as what he has managed to research on his own. He self-published his work on Amazon, so he doesn't have an editor and doesn't have a translator, so be ready for some semi-clear English (I actually find it fun to read). He has books covering the following topics: gods, plants, objects, demons/spirits/monsters/beings, animal cults, places of power. I don't have the last 2 yet as of this writing. I must warn that this is a rather questionable source, as in the book about the gods, he does cite The Book of Veles, and I'm not sure what other sources could be problematic that he's mentioned. Take the one about the gods with a grain of salt, and never use one source as your basis for your path. (Also, the plant book only talks about some lore, not actual magickal practices. The same can be said for the magical objects one. I'd prefer it this way myself, as I'm technically making up my practice as I go along, adjusting to the times, the awareness of current issues in the world, and accessibility.) Unfortunately, like I said earlier, he self-publishes on Amazon, so unless you know where else to find his work maybe secondhand or something, it's the only place you'll find these books of his. But within this list are books of something else he writes about unrelated to Slavic/Serbian Mythology stuff, and because I know nothing of that topic, I therefore have no opinion about such subject matter.

Lug Velesa - This is a Serbian Rodnovery community where I've found some pretty valuable information (although to be honest, google translate has helped me a lot with their site). They have a tumblr, a website, and even a YouTube channel! If you do visit their YouTube channel and you don't speak Serbian, you can turn on the closed caption subtitles and they're in English (not sure about other languages, sorry!)

Ancestral Witch - Yaya Nganga Yasmina - I think she's Macedonian from what I remember, but she covers lots of Balkan traditional stuff regarding magick. However, be prepared to hear her say things like what paths are best for you, rather than getting to pick any path you want (I can't remember what video(s?) she said this in). This doesn't cancel out the fact that she still gives some valuable info, though. Unfortunately, she also passed away back in 2018 (from what I remember reading, it was a house fire, but I'm not sure if that's correct). You can find her YouTube channel here.

There was one other YouTuber who did specifically Serbian witchcraft; she lives in Canada and had some good tips and such (I hope to share in another post if I remember), but was essentially chased off the internet. I can't quite remember her name, but I THINK I still have the link to her website. I won't be linking here even though she has it locked still (I think) for her safety. I believe it was because of some of the practices she did such as sacrificing a wasp or a small fish. (It's not like she did it willy-nilly. And no, I don't agree with such things. Again: another post for another time.) So unfortunately, I cannot share such a source, and if you know who I'm talking about and came here to find said source, I'm sorry that you've come across a dead-end here.

I hope these sources help you on your path! I'll eventually share a few of the things that I do, but I do wanna share the importance of adjusting some practices with the times (an example in my case would be how important beekeeping is in some Slavic cultures, but I'm in the US and the European Honeybee is invasive, so I would instead turn my efforts towards helping native bees instead and supporting already-established beekepers and apiaries instead of adding to it) as well as how different witches of one tradition's practices differ on colonized land as opposed to the country of origin.

I apologize if all this info is limited, but with the surgery I've had back in 2021 due to endometriosis along with a buncha other stresses from last year and now my periods are irregular, I must go prop myself up in bed and watch monster movies and read books and such (and hope I'm able to focus!) until this period blows over and I can get on with life.

My apologies to anyone searching the tags and stumbled onto this post around the time when this was posted to my blog!

[bulletsandbracelets]

I know it isn’t always that easy and I know that it doesn’t fix all instances, but seriously - use streaming services to scope out the things you like, then continue to buy CDs and DVDs.

Discogs is a great place to find secondhand CDs for cheap if you have artists you can’t find in stores anymore. A lot of sellers mass-sell and provide free shipping past a certain amount. Take this one with a grain of salt, because unlike Discogs I haven’t personally used it, but sites like decluttr let you buy movies/games secondhand as well.

Many game systems (and some phones) also offer micro-SD storage that can go to 1TB (and maybe higher tbh). It’s the only way I’m able to play my switch because I made the mistake of buying too many of the games online - though now I buy any game I want as a card instead. Apple phones don’t allow augmented memory, ofc… I wish that would become an enforced standard too though. I hate that it allows them to put a premium on storage space upgrades.

This doesn’t solve that so many shows don’t release on dvd anymore, or that so many games require gigs of downloads on top of the game discs to play. Optical discs can hold huge amounts of data too, apparently…. which means one disc could even hold the largest modern games. Console gamers are out of luck, but tbh… I may try and put some of my favorite games on some of these discs, especially after the stunt Unity pulled.

TLDR; don’t let the norm today stop you from owning the things you buy. With streaming services multiplying and pulling content at random, I am betting physical media will make a comeback. It’s also the best, most reliable way to ensure the people who made the thing get paid fairly for it (if you can buy it new). It’s worth it, for the things you know you will want to revisit often.

smartphone storage plateauing in favor of just storing everything in the cloud is such dogshit. i should be able to have like a fucking terabyte of data on my phone at this point. i hate the fucking cloud

[happysandwichsuit]

15 Hilarious Videos About replica handbags online

My best friend instructed me another working day that replica handbags she received herself a pretend bag.​ She explained that it had been just a cheap a single also! After i read that, I used to be like, "What?! You simply got a pretend bag?" She seemed to be all enthusiastic about it, however.​

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In the beginning, I did not realize why she was so happy about it.​ I imply, won't she recognize that pretend products haven't got the same top quality since the legitimate kinds? I used to be surprised that she failed to Feel 2 times about it.​ I certainly instructed her to rethink her selection.​

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[owlmylove]

this is tumblr, actually fuck off with that dumbass "prev tags" bullshit that is impossible to fucking figure out what tags youre even talking about. we have a system here, you fuckin twat. USE IT. fuck off back to tik tok or twitter and eat shit.

AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA

never thought i'd see the day that i, card-carrying circa 2011 tumblr girlie would be accused of. uhhhhhhhhhhhh [checks hand]

tags

actually unclear how any of this can be an accusation when there's no crime. yes, there was (and still is!) a prior system of screen-shotting or copy/pasting prominent tags and including them in the reblogged version of a post, but this system predates the in-browser pop-up viewer of blogs and reblogs that tumblr added in recent years

while screenshotted & copy/pasted tag additions did enrich the original posts, often leading to the kinds of collaborative post-creation tumblr is renowned for, there were 2 major failings of this system:

the first; if a copied tag failed to speak to a larger audience and/or become part of the post's identity and more widely accepted form (i.e., the most commonly reblogged version, often overtaking the original version), then the screenshot/copied tag post would merely be an eyesore, and users would bypass this version to engage with the original or pre-tagged post

the second; if a tag addition did become part of a post's more widely-known identity, then the user who screenshotted or copy/pasted it was very rarely the tag's author. This means subsequent rebloggers have the option of either going to the enhanced/tagged post, checking who it was reblogged from, and trying to see if this point of origin was, indeed, the person who had written the successful tag

however, overwhelmingly, most users wouldn't care to retrace tag provenance in such a way--they'd simply reblog the post, unwittingly giving credit not to the author, but whichever user had seen fit to include the author's tag

now, this is not in and of itself a bad thing! again, collaborative post creation and playmaking is a hallmark of tumblr's ethos. BUT, it does leave the question of crediting a creator up to the rebloggers' willingness to engage. and, while it's charming you might think i've the faintest relation to twitter and tiktok, i'll admit both sites seem to have a greater currency of "clout" than tumblr. i don't mean to suggest that the OG system of tags robs users of would-be "clout", since, well. if you're looking for clout, historically, tumblr's the wrong place to go prospecting

but tumblr does have a long and troubled past of accrediting creators, starting with circa 2010s WeHeartIt and DevArt repostings with "credit to the artist" / "credit to the photographer" often being the only half-hearted gesture towards acknowledging authorship

now, one benefit of the "prev tag" system is the reblogger's willingness to track down a post addition's author is tantamount to seeing it. You have to find the tag's original creator to read it. you become a scholar hunting through countless footnotes, making you an active participant in discovering and honoring authorship, rather than a passive consumer of secondhand content.

is the "prev tag" system of reblogs not as immediately gratifying as simply seeing a tag? forsure! and if said "prev tags" thread continues on for 3-4+ reblogs, each one leading you onwards in pursuit of a treasure of unknown value, only for said tag to be, well, maybe not entirely living up to it's unintentional hype--yes, that can be frustrating.

but the "prev tag" system is not replacing, but working symbiotically in relation to copying tags: it often functions as a peer-review system, an electoral process determining who has the knack to speak on the people's behalf. A well-received "prev tag" often leads to a copy/pasted tag after making enough rounds (no one wants a 7+ "prev tag" chain; at that point, it should simply be posted/copy-pasted), and is more likely to integrate with the post and engage with subsequent rebloggers more effectively, having already proved its mettle

tumblr is a system of communication like any other, and this communication changes with time and its environment. in the face of a changing dashboard and, admittedly, yes--an influx of users from other native digital spaces--then it only makes sense that our systems will change with us.

also: honey baby sweet angel child. deep breath. this ain't 2012 superwholock. there's no need to tell strangers on the internet to eat shit. go touch some grass<3333

[bizarrelovesquare]

Have you ever collected any American Girl dolls? I never did, but I used to get the catalogue. Their furniture is so cool and well made and it FASCINATES MEEEEEE

ignore that I'm answering this way late and after I already posted one of my dolls

I just started collecting them over the past few months! I'd been interested in them for a long time though. It's kind of a long story. I used to get the catalogs from 2002 to 2014(? somewhere around there? it was definitely a long time and I was legally an adult when they finally stopped coming) and I would look through it cover to cover multiple times, imagining what I would do if I had every doll, outfit, accessory, and furniture piece that I wanted. The names of particular items are still ingrained in my mind to this day (makes ebay searching very easy, lol). In elementary school, I read nearly all of the AG historical books from the library. I finally got a doll in 2007, Julie when she was first released, because I've always loved the 1970s.

However, even though I loved the doll, she initially didn't ignite that "spark" for me that I get with favorite toys, and I still don't know why. I loved her style, loved her story, still loved looking at the catalogs, but I just didn't know how to bond with her. My theory is that I was just at an awkward age (I was almost 12) and was transitioning from playing with dolls in a kiddie way to playing with them in older collector ways, but since I wasn't used to having an AG doll, it wasn't as simple as my never-faltering career as a Barbie collector since age two. I did try making more clothes for her a few times, and they were good for my age at the time, but I made mistakes and that frustrated me. She kinda just sat there and I eventually stored her away.

Fast forward to August 2022!! I go to an annual doll expo near me, and this is the first year they were able to have it since 2019, so I was stoked to be back and explore what was for sale. One table had some AG clothes for sale that I recognized, and seeing them in person instead of on a page was surreal, getting to see the actual size and quality, and I was like "...Okay...I could totally get into this...actually I DEFINITELY want something American Girl before I leave this place today." I walked around a bit more, and on another table stood my lookalike doll, Just Like You #23, one of the first AG dolls I ever wanted (along with Molly and Samantha). I stopped in my tracks and said "I've wanted this doll since I was a kid," and the lady behind the table says, "Well now's your chance!" I'm debating at this point, because the tag says $55 and I wasn't planning on spending that much on a singular item, but this is a piece of Evie history and I'm so drawn towards this doll, how can I not get her, and the lady must have read my mind, because she goes, "How much is she...55, no that's not right, you can have her for $30!" and now I'm about to start crying, and I'm like YES I'LL TAKE HER!

So I got my Just Like You doll, brought her home and curled her hair to match mine (AG why u no curly hair in the 2000s???), and I was instantly OBSESSED. The thing about me is that I can't love a thing without becoming a collector, so I had an urge to find even more. I discovered that they can go for pretty decent prices on the secondhand market, and I made a whole mental list of dolls/outfits/etc that I eventually want to find.

About a month ago was when I got the idea to make my custom Marinette doll; since she's such an adorable character, I thought she'd translate well to an AG doll. I spent weeks searching resell sites for the perfect doll, and I finally came across a Just Like You #30 that had had her eyes swapped to blue ones, and I knew she was the one. A few days before she arrived in the mail, I dug in our storage boxes for my Julie doll, and I brought her back into my room. This time, I felt the connection. Maybe all these years, I just needed some friends for her <3

I have three American Girl dolls sitting in front my bed now, and they're perfect for me. I'm looking forward to many future adventures, making custom clothes for them with my adult sewing skills, and adding even more of them to the family. So, that's been my journey into AG collecting!

[zutaraplatter]

Avatar: The Last Airbender Critique

There are already a million of posts like this one, and I might be saying things that’ve already been said a million times but I’ve recently become reheated about the ATLA ending and wanted to let it out -_- No one asked, this is true, and this may or may not be a way to stall from this final project I still have to complete, but here’s 10 things I didn't like and/or would change about the show that likely shouldn’t need changing because they should have been done in the first place.

1. Katara should have apologized to Sokka after TSR

It should have happened and it didn't. In my canon-avoiding mind, Katara and Sokka have a heartfelt conversation where she apologizes for the awful things she said, Sokka says he forgives her and he's sorry if he wasn't as there for her as much as he should have been, which he follows up with "but I'm happy you listened to Aang and took his advice," leading into my next point

2. Katara should have said that not killing Yon Rha was her choice

And thats why it was the right one. Not because Aang already said it was wrong. No no. It was the right choice because that's what she chose. I love my mom to death and can't imagine losing her in any way, let alone the way Katara did. And I can't say for sure that if I was in her shoes that I know what I would have done f that yes I do I would have killed that motherfucker. But I also know that if Katara decided not to kill him, then that was one of two correct choices because they were Katara's choices to make. Not Aang's or anyone else's and this should have been clarified. I know it's a kids show but I said what I said. Next point.

3. Katara should have said more after telling Aang she was unsure at the Ember Island Players

Katara hasn't had any trouble saying how she feels, especially when it comes to helping others and making them feel better, whether she was right or wrong. But she holds back or overly softens blows and seems to even shrivel up at times when it comes to Aang. And me no likey. I had a boyfriend who I adored and admired and just genuinely looked up to. I'm also a shy and anxious person who hates confrontation, but because I loved him, I never refrained from telling him when he was wrong. I might have been a little shaky about it but I did it tho because when you want to be with someone you walk through the grass and stomp through the mud. And I personally feel like either in that moment or later on in an added scene that Katara should have voiced to Aang how unheard and disrespected she felt about his words before TSR and his actions on the balcony. I hate being uncomfortable and my secondhand embarrassment is toxic but I would love to see a scene of this. I always imagined Katara saying stuff like "But I'm not you Aang, and I'm not an Air Nomad," or "Zuko could understand why I needed to go, and I'd hoped you would too," or...I'm out of ideas but you get the idea. And you know what, I know I'm a hard Zutara shipper, but them having this conversation would honestly make me respect their relationship a whole lot more should it be believably written to end on a good note (I don't see how it could be but hey I'm an open minded person and I did think they were cute together once upon a time). Basically, all I'm saying is that Katara is no small voice and she should have been written that way when with Aang. Boyfriends can make you shy but should never make you weak. Period. Next point.

4. No rock! ONLY GROWTH!!!!!!!!!!!

I still squint my eyes whenever I remember that rock that unblocked Aang's chakra. What even was that? The laziest writing possible in my opinion. That's what. And Aang deserved better. What should have happened should have been that Aang started to lose to Ozai. And then as Ozai's about to deliver the finishing blow, Aang has flashbacks of everyone he's trying to save and honor, ending with a very prominent flashback of Katara with the guru's disembodied voice reminding Aang to let go of his attachments to become all he needs to be...then BOOM! Baby boy is back on his feet, chakra unblocked, he kicks Ozai's ass, I'm crying hysterically on the floor, as are the rest of us, and he wins. Then at the end of the series, instead of a kiss, he gives Katara an apology. She accepts, everyone else comes to join them on the balcony, cinematic group hug, camera pan into the sun. I don't know lol. Basically what I'm saying is that Aang did not deserve some deus ex machina. He deserved to grow and become his best self like everyone else got to.

5. Aang should have heard differently in The Storm

Katara is a very fate-minded person and this is when I saw potential for her to become a toxic character in regards to Aang. When he admits that he ran away from home 100 years ago, Katara tells him that that was basically a good thing because he was meant to be here and now. Like...no? What Aang did, though understandable for someone so young, was still wrong. Yes he would have maybe been killed but I'm like 10000000% sure they had a plan to protect and evacuate the literal avatar. And what was technically "meant to be" was a new avatar. But hey, what's done is done and kicking Aang while he's down is a no-no in this household. But that doesn't change the fact that Aang needed and deserved honesty. Maybe the fisherman could have said this, I don't know, but I feel like Aang should have been told by someone that although running away was wrong, it's a blessing he and Appa were able to survive and be able to help save the world now with his amazing friends found-family. Maybe this is too harsh, and maybe even outright wrong, but I felt like Aang deserved a truer answer here to support and comfort him.

6. MAILEE!!!!

Do I even need to go into detail?

7. Spiritual sigh*

Don't make me go into detail -_- I will say though that although Aang and Katara are both amazing individuals capable of earth shattering things, they were not a healthy fit for one another. This is evident in the original series and especially in their children from LOK. They both deserved the best but better than one another.

8. ZUTARAAAAAAA

This is a Zutara blog you KNEW this was coming, as it should. There's just too much. There's too damn much. I would give a real paragraph to this too, but, I mean, there's already so much proving that this was the pair. Fics, metas, rants, this site. Scroll through my blog or any of the ATLA related blogs I follow and...dude. These two were meant to be together and I'll mourn the narrative brilliance WASTED for no good reason every day for the rest of my life. No reason these two shouldn't be married with three kids. sob. I will take this part to say thank you to the amazing fic writers that gave Katara, Zuko, Mai, and Aang what they deserved that the writers didn't have the guts to give them themselves. Next point tho.

9. AANG AND ONJI

Good God almighty. Why not this? WHY NOT THIS? I'm putting on my bullet proof vest and I'm going to say this; Aanji is cuter than Zutara. Now before you scorn me or whatever, let me explain. Zutara for me is like steak. No. Chicken parmesan. I like chicken parmesan better. The point though is that Zutara is savory. You know? I don't see them as cute, I see them as Obviously. Aanji on the other hand is like a bag of my favorite candy. They are like a brownie. A cookie. Girl Scout Samoas!...I don't know what words are anymore. This post got way out of hand. I guess what I'm saying is that for Zutara, I scream, but for Aanji, I squeal. I hope that makes sense. But here's the main point I want to make. Onji never knew who Aang really was. And Aang was always, at his core, himself. She very obviously had a crush on Aang for his personality and that was crazy cute and frankly preferable to Katara's "I...guess he is." (you know exactly what I'm talking about) Anyway, I kept wanting more of them together. I wish all the time that we'd gotten to see her again, with a more fleshed out character and all. And in the way that I imagine the show should have gone, she could have been the perfect love interest for Aang, during this episode or way later, even in the comics! Another WASTED opportunity for greatness and I will, again, never recover T-T

10. Iroh get your ass back here

Maybe this is a misguided critique but I hated that Iroh just left Zuko alone in the fire nation at the end of the series. Baby was in trouble in every sense of the word and Iroh was just like "See ya! You got this nephew." I'm expected to believe that? I'm expected to accept that? No no no. He should have at least stayed for a few years to help Zuko stay upright and, you know, alive. And by "upright" I don't mean "good." I just mean been there to support him because Lord knows he needed it, at least in the beginning of his reign. It was cute that Iroh was able to settle down with his own teashop after all those years of violence and mourning and running and this and that. I was more than happy for him for being able to have that peace finally. But I still think it could have waited a little while longer so he could support Zuko.

That's it I guess. I know not everything I've said makes the most sense in one way or another, but I enjoyed putting it together all the same. Thank you for reading and have a great day. I'll go finish my final now.

(Edited for a typo)

[troublesomeshika]

After all this time, I'm still into you (3)

shikamaru nara x reader word count: 4.7k warnings: swearing, anti-kiba, fluff

You woke up groggily, the events of the day before coming back to you in pieces as you solved the puzzle. Something fluttered in your stomach but you pushed it down. Looking at the clock you saw it showed 10:07. If you were going to get your errands done, you needed to be out of bed thirty minutes ago at the latest. You threw the covers off, stretching as you stood. First things first: laundry. You threw your clothes from the night before into your hamper, grabbing the few stragglers that lay around the room to be sure they made it in. Quickly throwing on an outfit, you grabbed the hamper and walked it down to the washing room. After you’d finished and hung up your clothes to dry, it was almost noon. You glanced at your pantry, seeing the dust that had begun collecting on some of the shelves and groaned. You needed to hand in your fixed report so groceries would just have to wait until later tonight.

You were jogging, it had taken longer than you’d expected to hand everything in and it was already past twelve. You came to a halt a block from Ichiraku and tried to steady your breathing. Looking down, you smoothed out your shirt and ran your hands over your hair before shaking your head. You were having lunch with a friend, you didn’t need to look perfect. Shaking your head, you looked up to see Shikamaru standing outside the ramen shop with an eyebrow raised. 

“How are you always late to everything?” he chided as you walked up and ducked beneath the pulled back curtain into the small booth. 

“Sorry, sorry, errands took longer than I thought.” You smiled at Teuchi behind the counter as you took a seat near the wall. Shikamaru sat next to you, your elbows bumping together in the small area. You willed your stomach not to flip at such a small thing, reminding yourself, once more, that you were friends, best friends.

“So, they took it with your corrections and everything?” Shikamaru looked up from the menu.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I got chewed out for making the mistake even though they already yelled at me for it when they first gave it back, but it’s whatever.”

He chuckled, “Maybe you’ll do it correctly next time.”

You slapped his arm, looking down at the menu to decide what you wanted. Once the two of you ordered, you turned to him. “So what have you done today? Been at all productive, or no?” 

He glared at you, “I’ll have you know that I woke up early and went to training with Ino and Choji, so no comments on my laziness. I’ve earned the rest of the day off.” 

“Oh so one morning training session earns you a half day off? Guess I should have at least 2 years of vacation stored up then.”

“Uh, yeah. And yet you’d never take any unless I made you. But don’t worry, I’m a giver.” He smirked at the last part.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yes, it must be so hard, but thank god you make the sacrifice.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

He shrugged, “It’s my duty, otherwise I’d be hard at work right now.” That made you laugh out loud, something about the idea of Shikamaru working hard was unimaginable. “Hey, woah it’s not that funny, I do work hard sometimes.” That only made you snort.

“Mhmm yeah, you. Shikamaru Nara. Working hard at something? That’d be a site to s-”

“Y/N?” You heard a voice behind you, which made you turn your head. 

“Oh, uh hey Kiba.” You smiled and brought a finger to your face, trying to quickly wipe the small tears at the corner of your eye.

He only glowered in response, looking between you and Shikamaru. “Already moved on, huh?” 

Your brow furrowed, “What?” You glanced at Shikamaru whose face showed no emotion.

“I saw the way you used to look at him, you’re doing it now. I knew you had feelings for him the whole time.” 

“Woah woah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scoffed in response.

“Hey, I’m trying to have lunch with my friend, so you can kindly fuck off if you’re gonna be weird about it.” You started to turn back around before he piped up again.

“So were you fucking him behind my back or is this a new development?” he sneered, “I should’ve known when you said it just wasn’t working between us, can’t expect you to slow down, right?” 

You felt like the air had been knocked out of you. “Excuse me?” You stood, raising an eyebrow at the boy in front of you, “I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of, but if you wanna do this in public, let’s do it,” Your smile was icy- you loved him, how could he ever accuse you of something like this? 

“No,” he shook his head. “I’ve had enough of this, Y/N.” 

“Enough of what?” Shikamaru’s drawl came from behind you, “Kiba, stop spouting off.” 

“You shut your mouth!” Kiba exploded.

“You’re the one accusing people here!!” You yelled at him. 

“Yeah because you’re the one on a date weeks after breaking up with me and acting all heartbroken.”

“So what if she’s on a date, Kiba, you don’t own the girl.”

“This isn’t a date and Shikamaru, stay the fuck out of this.” You gritted your teeth. The last thing you needed was another person involved in whatever this was.

“God, the two of you are so troublesome, you’re drawing a crowd. Kiba, just leave, you’re not going to accomplish anything here.”

The boy practically snarled at the two of you, baring his teeth before turning on his heel to stalk off. You were breathing heavy, fists clenched when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Rounding on Shikamaru you spat at him, “Why did you butt in? I didn’t ask you to say anything, now he’s definitely going to think I cheated on him. God!” You brought your hand to your forehead and squeezed hard.

“Hey, just.... sit back down. C’mon.” He guided you to your stool as you felt the lump in your throat that had been threatening to form.

“Why did he have to do that in public.... Now everyone will think I’m a cheater.” You stared at the counter in front of you. 

“It’s Kiba, what could you expect? He’s a hotheaded idiot, I still can’t believe you even gave him the time of day, let alone dated him.”

“Really not the time, Shikamaru.” You pressed your fingers to your temples, “I didn’t need this today.” Your nerves were so shot that when Ayame placed your order in front of you, you jumped.

“Honestly, I really don’t think anyone is gonna think that.” His hand rested on your back now, but you were too preoccupied to think about it.

“God, I just, the worst part is that I still love him so much? Why would he....” tears reappeared at the corners of your eyes, this time stinging with anger and pain.

“Hey, look at me.” You continued staring at the bowl in front of you, afraid that if you moved, your composure would break and you’d be reduced to crying in public. “Y/N, I need you to look at me, right now.” Shikamaru’s voice was firm and unwavering, but you could only shake your head softly. You sensed him stand up beside you before he turned your body and enveloped you in a hug. Your face hidden, tears spilled quickly onto his shirt, it was short but needed. You clenched your fist, digging your nails into your palm to ground you before taking a deep breath and untangling yourself from Shikamaru. When you looked up, his cheeks were flushed, likely from secondhand embarrassment. 

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to fall apart on you!” you wiped your face quickly, turning to your bowl of food, ��Better eat before it gets cold!” You forced an upbeat tone into your voice, trying to hide how you felt. Shikamaru sat down beside you and you felt his gaze still on you. “I’m okay, really, I just.... Having a bad day I guess.” You took a bite of your food and swallowed it, willing the lump in your throat to disappear. “Anyways, I overheard that your team is being sent out on a mission soon, do you know what it’s for?” Looking up, his eyes were studying you, picking you apart as only he could. 

He turned to his own food, picking up noodles on his chopsticks before replying, “I think it’s something about retrieving some stolen information, but I’m not sure. I didn’t really read the message they sent me, just looked at when we’re leaving.” 

“Which is?” You took another bite, beginning to realize how hungry you were.

“Tomorrow morning.” He took a bite and your eyes lingered on his lips a second longer than a friend’s eyes should. 

“Oh, so you probably need to get ready, I guess just lunch for today then.”

“Tch, you’re not getting out of it that easily. Especially after what just happened.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another bite before replying, “Please, it was a momentary lapse for me, I’m really alright and if you need to cut out to prepare, I can just take a rain check.”

He shook his head. “You trying to weasel out of this is tiring and it’s making me need the time off even more.”

You sighed, “Fine fine,” you held up your hands, finished with your meal, “lemme know when you’re ready to go.”

He looked up, mildly shocked, “You’re already done?”

Shrugging you grinned at him, “Need the fuel to keep me energized.”

He simply sighed and began eating faster. You took the opportunity to ask Ayame for the bill. By the time you’d paid, Shikamaru had finished his own serving and was standing waiting for you. “Ready?” you asked. He nodded and the two of you began walking. You talked to Shikamaru, going on about something Ino had said recently, not really paying much attention to where you were going. This made it all the more surprising when you looked around and realized you were in the woods, surrounded by trees. “Shikamaru? Where are we?” 

He chuckled, “Took you long enough to realize.”

Your heart was pounding as you realized you must be in the Nara woods. “Hey uh, I’m not gonna get trampled and beaten up by your deer right?”

“As long as you don’t annoy me, no. You’re here with me, they won’t bother you.” You couldn’t help but glance around the trees, noticing the eyes that blended in with the scenery. You shifted closer to Shikamaru as you walked, feeling the deer watch you. You felt bad as you bumped against his arm for the fourth time, hearing him sigh. Suddenly there was a weight on your shoulder and you were pulled to the side. “There. Will you calm down now? It’s clear you’re not a threat, they just watch everyone, it’s their thing.”

You nodded in reply, but your heart rate had only sped up now that his arm was around you. Thankfully you came to a clearing of soft grass where the sun shone perfectly. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that fell from your lips as you stepped into the area.

Shikamaru chuckled beside you, “Yeah, this is my secret spot.”

You thwaked his side softly with your arm, “Shikamaru Nara. I cannot believe you never showed me this!” 

“Well then it wouldn’t have been secret now would it?” he grinned at you, but you were busy staring around the clearing.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed out. 

“Yeah....”

You crouched down, running your hands through the soft grass before stretching yourself out. “Well? If we’re gonna relax, let’s relax.” 

He chuckled, looking down at you, “Alright fine, but I brought you here to make sure you’d relax, so no fidgeting.” He laid down perpendicular to you, resting his head on your thighs. Feeling your heart rate spike again, you shifted and put one arm behind your head. Your foot was still bouncing softly until Shikamaru reached out and grabbed it. “Stop fidgeting,” 

You blushed, “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” He sighed in response and your hand one made its way down to his hair. You had to continue moving somehow, this was the least offensive option. Before touching his hair you made sure to ask, “You okay with this?” When he hummed in response, you began to slowly fiddle with his hair, making sure not to pull on it. It was nice, you hadn’t done this in years, but it felt natural. The sun on your skin warmed your entire body and the grass was softer than any you’d felt. There was a soft breeze that carried some kind of floral scent and the clouds were floating by serenely above. You felt more relaxed than you had in years, and as your mind drifted you felt the urge to tell Shikamaru how you felt. He had a right to know, and you had a right to make your feelings known. You knew he didn’t feel the same, and you’d made your peace with that. “Shikamaru?” 

“Mm?” he hummed quietly in response.

“You ever think about how insignificant we are in the world?”

He snorted, “Y/N what are you on?”

“I don’t quite know,” you watched the clouds drift by above, “I think I just wanna talk to you,” you wove a few strands of his hair carefully through your fingers.

“As long as I don’t have to respond,” you tugged lightly on his hair in response.

“So you don’t mind if I just talk mindlessly to you?”

“No, I don’t mind Y/N. Feel free to babble about whatever you’d like.”

You smiled at his word choice, “Okay, well I feel like I owe you the truth especially after earlier today,” He only sighed, waiting for you to continue. “What Kiba said wasn’t actually that crazy, I realized last night that....” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I have feelings for you and they aren’t friend feelings,” you rushed your next words, making sure to get them out before he could reply, “I tried to get over it, but.... I’m still into you.” You stared straight up, focusing on a misshapen cloud that was floating lazily overhead.

“Is that all?” Shikamaru’s voice sounded mildly amused.

“Yeah, just.... thought I’d tell you,” you felt more comfortable, especially since he hadn’t sat up or pulled away. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of not hiding anything.

“Well, I guess you ought to know that I feel the same.” His voice didn’t change at all and he sounded almost bored.

Your heart stopped and your eyes snapped open, but you didn’t move. “You.... do?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, okay.” you paused, unsure of what to do next. You felt Shikamaru shift and you sat up. You looked into his eyes, noticing his slight smirk as you waited for his next move.

His hand was resting on your thigh and he looked down at it before speaking, “I guess the next thing is for me to ask you out,” his thumb traced soft circles across your leg, “what a drag.”

“Well seeing as I confessed, shouldn’t I be the one to ask you out?” You raised an eyebrow, grinning at him. “So Shikamaru,” he shook his head, chuckling as you continued, “will you go out with me?”

He looked up and grinned, “I’d love to.”

Your heart swelled as you reached out and cupped his face, softly stroking his cheek. You sighed, “Maybe it’s too early, but.... I think I love you Shikamaru Nara.”

A blush covered his usually reserved features as he shifted to hide his face against your stomach, “Troublesome woman,” You laughed and tangled your fingers in his hair as you laid back again. “I think I love you too.” he murmured softly into your skin. The smile on your face wouldn’t go away as you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of happiness that washed over you.

“So does this mean you’ll start paying for meals?”

“Not if you keep losing, our rule still stands.”

You hummed, softly running your hands through his hair. “Mm fine. When’s our next rematch then? I need to know so I can get your dad to teach me.”

His head appeared above you, his ponytail messy from your fingers, “You wanna come over tonight?”

You smiled at his eagerness, “Shikamaru, I don’t think your mom would take kindly to me bumming two meals in a row off you guys.” You reached up, caressing his face.

He leaned into your hand and smirked, “Please, you know she loves you, more than me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Maybe it’s because I don’t lay around her house and mutter things under my breath when she asks for help.”

“You’re so rude,” He frowned, “maybe I won’t go out with you.”

You pulled his head to your shoulder, “Then I’ll just have to pester you until you do.”

“You would wouldn’t you,” he melted into you and you smiled at his weight on your body.

“Mhmm. If I have to come throw rocks at your window every night, I will.” You pressed a soft kiss on the side of his head. “If that’s what it will take, then that’s just what I’ll have to do. But it would be so very troublesome,” you threw his favorite phrase back at him to which he only huffed, “so please don’t make me.”

“Fine. But come over tonight?” He murmured into your ear, his hot breath making goosebumps run their way down your body.

You twirled the short hair at the nape of his neck as you thought about it, “Alright, I guess you’ve convinced me.”

He shifted and pressed a small kiss to your cheek. “Whoever thought I’d be the one having to force you to do things?”

“Quite a change of pace hmm?”

He rolled onto his back and pulled your body close to his, “Well then, I’ll have to make sure to beat you next time we compete so we can balance things out again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You nuzzled into his chest, and everything felt right. Breathing in his soft and familiar smell, you felt yourself drifting in the afternoon sun. The next thing you knew, soft kisses were being pressed against your head as you heard Shikamaru murmuring your name. Your eyelids fluttered open and you tilted your head to look up at him. A drowsy smile adorned his lips which you mirrored.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

You laughed softly, “Hi,” you felt like a schoolgirl again, shy and soft.

“How was your nap?”

“Wonderful, you make a great pillow.” You both sat up. Shifting to straddle him, you threw your arms around his shoulders. The sun was setting and it was catching on his hair just perfectly. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, taking a deep breath. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in awhile.”

“Oh really? All because of me?” His lips were tilted up in a cocky smirk.

You leaned forward slowly, lips barely brushing his and breathed out, “All because of you.” before pushing your lips against his. The way you two moved against each other was natural. You felt his hands grip your hips as you pulled away for air. A soft breeze blew past, alerting you to how flushed your face was as the cool air hit your cheeks. You leaned your head back to look up at the sky, noticing the stars beginning to shine above. “We should probably get back, seems our day off has ended.”

Shikamaru sighed, tugging you closer to him, “What a drag, how about five more minutes?”

You smiled, and tapped his nose with your finger, “C’mon lazy, let’s go.” You stood and held your hands out to him. He took them and you pulled him up, lingering there, fingers tangled together before you began pulling him back towards the village.

“That’s the wrong way, genius.” He laughed and pulled you the other way and you smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, guess you just make my head spin so much I don’t know which ways which.”

He groaned, “Please tell me that’s the only dumb line you’re gonna use.”

“Well, I got lost in your eyes, but since you know where you’re going I’ll just follow your lead.” You were grinning up at him, a shit eating grin plastered across your face. You opened your mouth, about to continue, but he cut you off quickly with a kiss.

“Dork,” he muttered, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You began walking back the way you’d come, offering up different terrible pick up lines whenever they came to you. By the time you came to the road you were sure he was questioning his earlier decision of saying yes to you, the only thing betraying otherwise was the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth. You turned towards his house, seeing the lights on, and you were struck by how much had changed in 24 hours. It felt crazy, but it also felt right. Shikamaru groaned beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“You okay?”

“I just don’t wanna have to tell my parents about us, my mom’s gonna be insufferable about it.”

You stopped walking, “Well, I don’t have to come over, really it’s fine. We spent the whole day together.”

“No no,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “I want you to come over.”

“Okay well then we don’t have to tell your parents about us.”

He shifted from foot to foot, clearly thinking, “Hmm, I guess so.”

You laughed and pushed him away, “Then we’re back to platonic for tonight.”

“One more kiss? Just to tide me over.” He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the request, “Hmm, I guess so.” You mocked him as he stepped closer and tilted your head up with his index finger, kissing you soft and slow.

He pulled away, dropping his hand from your chin, “Ready for another friendly dinner? Emphasis on the friend part.”

“I am, let’s go,” you both walked up to his front door and he opened it for you, the smell of mackerel wafting out the door, “You just keep winning today huh?” You glanced at him, knowing how much he loved the food, but he only grinned in response.

You walked in and were greeted by Yoshino who was visibly surprised to see you. “Oh, Y/N, Shikamaru didn’t tell me we were expecting you back again tonight!”

You blushed, embarrassed, “I’m sorry for the intrusion ma’am. I don’t have to stay for dinner, it's not a big deal!” You turned to Shikamaru ready to bid him goodbye but he didn’t look at you.

“It’s fine, I’m sure we have enough for you, right mom?”

“Yes, of course! That’s not at all what I meant!” Yoshino rushed to assure you, “I was just surprised is all. Well, Shikamaru come and help me serve the food, your dad is just getting changed out of his work clothes. Feel free to sit down, Y/N.” Shikamaru smiled at you, touching the small of your back softly before continuing through to the kitchen. You walked over to the shogi board that was still out, observing the game that was leftover from the night before, the one that had led to lunch this afternoon, where you’d seen Kiba.... had it really been this afternoon that that had happened? You still felt terrible about it, but the sound of Shikaku entering the room forced you to push your thoughts aside.

“Ah, Y/N! Back to join us?” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yes sir, also, real quick, I was wondering, do you think you could tell me why I lost this game last night?”

He grinned, “Ah, want to know what you should’ve done to beat him?”

“Yes sir.” You took a seat where Shikamaru had sat and Shikaku took your position.

“Well, it looks like when you moved your lance, you left yourself open to attack, and from there you were bound to end up in checkmate. You should have left your lance where it was,” he began explaining how you should’ve gone about capturing Shikamaru’s pieces. You tried to pay attention, you really did, but shogi was just so boring and so much had happened that your mind began wandering on its own. “And then he would’ve been stuck in checkmate and you would’ve won.” Shikaku finished his explanation looking up at you.

You looked up and nodded, “I’ll be honest I don’t know if I got all that but I think some of it stuck somewhere in my brain so thank you.”

He bobbed his head, frowning, “Well, if you’d like me to train you, you know where to find me, I’m always up to help you beat Shikamaru.” He smiled and stood, “Now, we should probably make our way to dinner before Yoshino gets angry.”

You stood and followed him through to see Shikamaru putting the plates out with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. He looked so domestic it made you smile. He glanced up at you and you felt your stomach flip as he flashed you a smirk. You sat in the same place you had the night before, and made polite conversation as you ate. The topic of your day came up and you were forced to confess how Shikamaru had forced you to go cloud watching with him.

“Oh, so he roped you into his lazy antics as well?” Yoshino glared at Shikamaru who only shrugged.

You laughed, “Yes, but I think I was in need of a day off so it wasn’t unwelcome.”

“Who isn’t, I could use a day off. How about we go cloud watching, honey?” Shikaku smiled at his wife.

“Hm, I don’t know about cloud watching, but you could stand to take some time off as well.” You admired the way they were so comfortable with each other, going back and forth. Seeing how clearly they loved each other caused you to look fondly across the table at Shikamaru.

Yoshino spoke up, “You know, I was always so sure you two would get together.”

“Mom!”

You flushed bright red and stared down at your food, trying hard to suppress your smile.

Yoshino held her hands up, “I’m only being honest.” Shikamaru groaned and took a bite of his food, his cheeks red like yours, “Some things just make sense and I always thought the two of you were one of those things.”

You laughed awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed when a bird flew in through the open window, saving you from any further conversation. Shikaku stood and retrieved the message from the bird who left the same way it had entered.

“It’s for you, Shikamaru.” He handed the small scroll to him before returning to his seat.

Shikamaru unrolled it and began reading before he sighed, “They moved up the time for the mission, we’re leaving in a few hours, what a drag.”

You all quickly finished your meal, making sure that you helped to clean up before saying goodnight. Shikamaru walked you to the front porch, closing the door behind him. He pulled you in for a hug, arms circling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder as you slowly stroked up and down his back. “Can’t believe we just got together and I have to leave for a mission, how troublesome.” He murmured into your hair.

You laughed, “Well you were fine before we were together, I’m sure you’ll be fine this time as well.” You pulled back and cupped his face, “Just, make sure you come back to me, you know?” You leaned up and kissed him, soft and slow just like he had kissed you earlier.

“Of course,” he kissed your forehead before letting you go. As you walked away, you turned and glanced back. He was leaning against the house watching you, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips and smoke curling around his head. You grinned, shaking your head before you continued on your way, happiness blooming in your chest.

[scathecraw]

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 2: Poolside

All in all, it was not the worst stake out they could have been on. Sure, it was abysmally hot and she felt strangely more exposed in the one piece swimsuit than she normally felt in her leotard, but she wasn’t trekking through a sewer or pushing through the unwashed masses in a convention center, so the annoyances were comparatively minor. Quite frankly, most stake outs didn’t have iced tea, large, shady umbrellas, or loungers to lay back on.

Even Robin had started to relax after the fourth day of forced downtime while each of them took solo or paired turns watching the lone entrance to the resort. It was day six, now, and she could feel him try to muster up annoyance at the wasted time. Each attempt didn’t last long. It was interrupted by calm – Jump was being watched over by a rotation of heroes, pride – Batman had specifically asked for his help watching the site, and, of course, the roaring, distracting buzz of attraction towards Starfire’s bikini-clad form. Years into dating and he still couldn’t overcome the inertia of his awkwardness to just tell her how much he wanted her. It was almost funny, if there weren’t so much secondhand embarrassment.

Speaking of fumbling, she felt a whiplash sensation of joy from the shallow end of the pool where two men threw a pool football back and forth in increasingly challenging tosses for seemingly no reason at all. This particular spike came from the tanned, lean-muscled form of a disguised Garfield Logan leaping to catch a throw from across the pool and laughing as he fell back into the water. She tried to go back to her book – a popular sword and sorcery series that let her fit in with the crowd of what seemed to be honeymooning newlyweds and overwintering retirees. It wasn’t exactly her type of novel, but it had its own so-shallow-it’s-hypnotic sort of appeal. It almost worked, except for the satisfied hum of relaxed happiness blaring out of the carelessly splashing changeling. Typical of him. She glanced up at him again, and froze. He levered himself out of the pool with just his arms, back and shoulder muscles tightening and lifting him out of the water, rivulets dripping down and catching the baking sunlight. She stared, and a little voice in her head told her it was okay to stare. She wore dark sunglasses, was sitting back, away from everyone, and even if she was seen, no one would believe that Raven, staid, sober Raven, would stoop to ogling a teammate – more, her best friend.

She watched his arms flex and his torso twist as he hurled the ball back towards the unfamiliar form of Cyborg in his disguised, organic appearance. He threw his head back in loud laughter when Victor did something presumably juvenile and apparently hilarious, but she didn’t see or care what. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked back at her book and read a paragraph without absorbing a word. This was a problem. She didn’t stare. She never stared. At anyone. Perhaps the heat was getting to her.

She reached out and grasped her glass of iced tea in hopes of cooling her obviously heat stroke afflicted mind, brought the straw to her lips, and nearly dropped both the cup and her book when she felt a wash of something like Robin’s attraction to Starfire, but more raw, more honest and with absolutely zero shame or self-consciousness. Her head jerked up, and she barely caught a glimpse of blond hair turning away from her, lightning-fast. ‘Well, now,’ she thought. ‘That’s… different.’ Not exactly new, per se. She knew there had been attraction, in the past. She had just thought it had been left behind, like the rest of his impossible crushes. This was certainly not left behind though; it was fresh, strong, and almost immediately pushed into the background behind of all the other emotions that blared out like a lighthouse beacon from him.

It was possible, of course, that it could have been for someone else around the pool. She furrowed her brow. It was, wasn’t it? She wasn’t in anything particularly revealing, and there were plenty of other attractive women around. Maybe it was another vacuous crush on a passing blonde. Maybe it meant nothing, and she only noticed it because of how focused on him she was. Anyway, he was back to focusing on other things. She supposed, well, she supposed she could put it to the test. It wouldn’t be cruel just to test her hypothesis, and if he did have an attraction, it was important to know about it. For purely pragmatic reasons, of course. It wouldn’t do to have him get… distracted in a crisis. She smirked, then forced her face back into placid relaxation.

She set down her book, stood up, carefully positioned herself to place him almost entirely outside her line of sight, and stretched, arching her back and sighing. She expected him to look, and to feel the surge of lust washing out from him, but did not expect the Victor’s next Nerf ball throw to slip through Garfield’s frozen hands and smack him in the face with an abrupt *plap* and a pained grunt. The tide of emotion stopped and she whirled about while Gar clasped his hands to his rapidly bruising nose and waved off Victor’s concerned approach as he moved quickly enough through the water to make waves.

He attempted to wave her off, as well. “*Hrnk* ‘m fine, Rae,” he said, nasally. “Pruney hands just missed the ball.”

“Well come on anyway. You’re going to get blood in the pool,” she responded, waiting for him to rise and accompany her. “It can’t hurt to make sure it’s not broken.”

He looked a little defeated, but stood up in an acrobatic little maneuver of the feet that left both his hands stopping blood from getting everywhere. “Lead on, then, Ms. Doctor.”

She bade him sit on her isolated lounger and retrieved the pool’s first aid kit, then sat down accidentally just too close to him for either of their comfort. “Keep your head straight. I need to know if you managed to break it. No, not like that.” She reached out and with firm, but gentle hands steered his head into position. As she did, her forearms touched his shoulders, and the warmth of his sun-kissed skin surprised her.

She refocused, looked carefully at the slope of his nose from multiple angles and whispered “Shh”, then touched the bridge with an energy encased hand and drew the pain of the injury out, into her, and breathed it away.

Garfield seemed surprised, but in no way unhappy. He whispered back, “Thanks, Rae. Rob woulda been on us if he knew you were using your powers though.”

Raven smirked, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Any I’m not going to tell, are you?”

A sudden laugh burst out of Gar. “Not a chance. Thanks again, Rae.” With those words, there was a clarity of emotion through the normal chaotic, vibrant depths in her friend. It was simple, and direct, and honest in a way that neither of them was particularly experienced at. And his smile felt as warm as his shoulders did. He slipped his hand into hers and helped her up, and ‘God she had to have been blind’ was all that went through her head as he held on for just a heartbeat too long and an eternity too short, leading her up the path. “Now come on, Cy’s probably got a new surfer girl to chase, and I think you’ll like one of the more private pools.”

When his hand left hers, her step faltered for an instant before she caught up with him, walking side by side, basking in the warmth.

AO3 FF.net

[gluecookie]

kinda? But also worse? Basically Ohlmarks was a famed translator in the 70s for translating a lot of ancient texts to Swedish. He did the Eddas, Shakespeare, the Qu'ran, etc. He was one of many translators back in the day for translating "in the spirit of the text". He wasn't much for trying to get the authors voice perfectly translated, rather he would translate with a vibe in mind and he would inject his own interpretations into the text.

More under the cut for nerds:

Here's an excellent example journalist Strömbom noted (excerpts copied from wiki):

Ohlmarks version is as you can see uuuh. Kinda what Tolkien said but with an extraneous word count? And he has injected his own interpretations and just lengthed the entire section. And he does things like throughout the trilogy! I remember giving up reading this translation thinking this was just the annoying Tolkien esque writing. But it's Ohlmarks writing! Tolkien's tone and writing is entirely different!

Ohlmarks has a famed inconsistency when translating names. Some characters/places keep their names unchanged, some get translated, and some change names faster than a fandom jumping Tumblr user. Example also from wiki, with Ohlmarks version in the middle:

Isengard is the greatest Tumblr user:

So. The reason why Ohlmarks is so wildly different is because he translated the text of trilogy, and then he rewrote it. Which is imo an unhinged thing to do!!!! Why did you do this Ohlmarks!!! Why!!! You did extra work for what!!!!????

Anyway, here comes drama from 50 years ago. now I want you to picture Tolkien, ultra nerd linguist, reading this translation and going ???? What did you do to my baby Mr Ohlmarks?????? And wrote a guide to translating names of Lotr as a response. It was published after his death by Christopher Tolkien.

When silmarillion came out Ohlmarks wanted to do a translation of it too, by Christopher was just like no. Anyone but you. Theres also some kerfuffle that maybe Ohlmarks broke into Tolkien's house??? None of them would really expand on details on what happened but their relationship soured entirely by that point.

Ohlmarks himself who had been a big Tolkien fan soured on not only Tolkien and Christopher but also on fans who criticised his work. So in 1982 he published a book where he claims that Tolkien and various Tolkien societies are part of a black magic nazi cult. I thought someone had done a little joke on wiki but no its real!!!

It's 9000 SEK secondhand if you desperately want to read it. Also if you want to read more I got my info from this and this wiki article. Various Tolkien fan sites have also written about this, and if you enjoy Tolkien's comments on various translations of his work you can read this book.

I want to formally apologize to Tolkien for formerly saying that his descriptions were excessive and that his extreme use of adjectives was annoying. And I want to formally throw shade at Ohlmarks, who translated lotr into Swedish, for turning this trilogy into an unreadable mess of a translation based on vibes, excessive adjectives and characters changing names and pronouns according to his whim. And then end up having a beef not only with Tolkien but also Tolkien's son

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[jewish-space-laser]

Snowed In, Locked Out

Hello beautiful people! This is a repost of a story I wrote back in 2018. I deleted my original blog (she-guitar-solo) a couple months ago, but I’ve decided to try coming back! I’ll be reposting the rest of my writing today and tomorrow. Feel free to leave feedback, it’s always very much appreciated! 8.5k words

xxx Tile

Even bundled up with layers of thick clothing, a cup of steaming tea, and three blankets, Rosie was sure she had never been colder. It had started with a severe weather alert on the news, and had ended in a power outage and four feet of snow, which meant that her heat wasn’t working, and every flat surface in her disorganized studio apartment was covered in candles. It looked nice, but the plethora of scents from the candles were giving her a headache and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt her toes.  

She had tried to watch her weekly soaps on her laptop, but it quickly died, leaving her with a blank screen and an annoyed eye roll. Next, she’d dragged her puppy, Buddy, out into the snow for what was meant to be a quick walk, but ended up taking well over an hour due to his excited prancing and rolling. It was his first snowfall, and he was having a ball playing in the large piles that had already started to form along the sidewalk. It took an extra ten minutes to dry him off completely once Rosie got him back inside.

She hoped that this would be the worst of the bad weather. It was out of character for London to have a snowstorm this large. Ideally, it would all melt by the end of the month, and things would go back to normal. She didn’t know how much more of this she could handle.

Now, Buddy was curled up at the foot of the twin bed as Rosie cocooned herself so only her face was exposed. Having grown up in a warmer climate, she was a self-proclaimed wimp when it came to cold weather.

“This is basically hell, Buddy,” she told her puppy, who gave no indication that he’d heard her apart from a slight ear twitch. She nudged him gently with her foot, and he lifted his head slowly, giving Rosie a bleary glare before lowering his chin back to his paws. “You’re so lucky you have a built in coat.”

And that’s how the evening continued. Rosie would tug the blankets tighter around herself and tell Buddy about her plans to stay warm. Should she invest in a battery-powered space heater? No way, you’re right Bud, those are a huge fire hazard. It was starting to smell awfully strange due to the mix of scented candles, should she stand up and blow some of them out? Maybe if it wasn’t so cold, there’s no way these blankets are moving. When the power turns back on, she’s going to take a scalding hot shower. After we go for another hour-long walk, of course…

After a while of this, Rosie was running out of things to think about. Buddy had clearly fallen asleep. Just as she willed herself to stand up and fetch a novel from the tower of books teetering on her desk, there was a firm knock on the door, which of course, set Buddy into a frenzy. He jumped up from his place and raced towards the sound, hopping around on the welcome mat out of sheer excitement.  

As soon as Rosie unlatched the lock, the person on the other side twisted the handle and let themselves in, forcing her to take a quick leap backwards to dodge the door. She watched as Harry pulled the beanie off of his head, shucked his jacket off his shoulders and onto the ground, and toed off his boots. There was a growing puddle of muddy snow next to his pile of winter gear.

“Bloody freezing out!” He exclaimed, “This is meant to be London, not the fucking North Pole.”

Rosie watched with crossed arms as he stooped down to pat Buddy before glancing up at her with a swoon-worthy smile. She almost wanted to scream at him for shoving his way into her space, but she couldn’t do that, not when she hadn’t seen him in nearly four months and he looked good enough to eat in his skinny jeans.

He stood up slowly, giving Buddy one last pet on the rump before opening his arms wide. Rosie beamed at him, not hesitating to walk into his embrace.

“Hey, Ro,” he had dug his face into her hair, so his voice was muffled, but it sounded like heaven to her. “It’s so, so good to see you.”

“Harry,” she gleefully cheered, “I didn’t even know you were back in town!”

“Got in late last night,” he explained, moving his face away but not releasing her from his hold. “Was gonna stop by later on this week to say hey, but then…” he trailed off, sucking his lips into his mouth and hanging his head.

“Let me guess,” she stepped back, placing a hand on her hip. Harry’s arms swung loosely back to his sides. “You’ve locked yourself out again?”

Harry Styles had been her next-door neighbor since she moved into the complex two years prior, and had immediately welcomed her with a handmade card and a bottle of sparkling grape juice (“was gonna buy wine, but wasn’t sure if you drank alcohol or not, didn’t want to assume”). He had made it his mission to make her feel at home, and despite only spending a few months out of the year in London, he made sure to always drop by with sparkling grape juice and frozen TV dinners for lighting round catch-up sessions whenever he happened to be in town. It had become their little tradition.

He also had a tendency to lock himself out of his flat, a nasty habit that forced him to seek refuge at hers while he waited for the landlord to come on site. Harry had to be one of the most scatterbrained, forgetful men Rosie had ever met in her life. If they weren’t friends, she’d be annoyed, but it was impossible not be endeared by Harry.

“Locked my entire set of keys in my car, only realized once I got inside,” he confirmed, at least having the decency to look sheepish. “Called somebody to try and get it unlocked, but they said they couldn’t get here until the roads are plowed.”

“Harry!” Rosie groaned, “The plows won’t be out until tomorrow morning, at the earliest!”

Before the power had cut out, the news channel had mentioned something about the blizzard raging through the night. It was one of the worst snow storms that London had seen in years.

“You really think it’ll take that long?” He asked incredulously, digging a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Before the power went out, I was watching the news, and it looks like the city is pretty much on lockdown until the snow stops,” Rosie patted Harry’s shoulder sympathetically. “It’s supposed to go all night.”

“Well shit,” he laughed humorlessly, “think it’s too late for a hotel reservation?”

“I’m sure there’s something still available,” she reasoned, digging her cell phone from her pocket to check where the nearest vacancy was. Just as she found something closeby, Harry let out a soft expletive from where he stood. When she looked over at him, he was patting down his pockets helplessly.

“I’ve locked my wallet in my car, too,” he moaned. “I’m officially fucked.”

“Oh, H,” Rosie sighed. She gave her ratty couch a quick side-eye. She had bought it secondhand from a stranger on craigslist when she moved in, and even though a few springs were loose and the fabric was scratchy and threadbare, it was plush and large enough to take up the majority of her living room. Her flat definitely wasn’t big enough to share with another person, but poor Harry was absolutely stranded. “I suppose… you could take my couch, just for the night? I know you’ve been travelling a lot and probably want a nice bed, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I… don’t want to impose,” he said, though his eyes brightened at her offer.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “I’m not going to kick you out into the cold with nowhere to go.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” He pressed. “I can call for a ride.”

“Nonsense,” Rosie waved him off, turning around to grab some extra blankets from the closet. “I’ll just set up the couch, it’s really no bother. It definitely won’t be comfortable, but I don’t want you, or anybody else for that matter, out on the roads. It’s too slippery to be driving.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I owe you one, Ro. You’re the fucking best.”

“You say that every time,” Rosie reminded him, setting the pile of fuzzy blankets onto the arm of the couch for him.

“Well, that’s because it’s true,” he stated matter-of-factly, walking over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, H,” she smiled, “It’s been so long.”

Harry sat himself down onto the couch, pulling Rosie with him so that they could talk properly. Buddy, still reeling from having a new person in his space, hopped up onto the couch and set his front paws in Harry’s lap.

“Yeah, it really has,” Harry breathed with a faraway look in his eyes. “When’s the last time I saw you, then? September?”

“I think so,” Rosie nodded her head, feigning indifference. The truth was, she had been counting down the days until he made a visit to London, checking the hallway and mailroom for any sign he’d been home.

“I’ve been so busy,” he informed her, raking his fingers through Buddy’s fur.

“Have you?” He nodded his confirmation. “Tell me about everything you’ve been doing.”  

This was one of her favorite parts about hanging out with Harry. Even though it only happened every once in a while, he’d always return home with the most amazing stories to tell her. It was worth the wait to see his eyes light up when he talked about recording his second album in Tokyo. His excitement was contagious when he told her about his last night of tour, when the crowd begged him to sing Kiwi three times. She rubbed his arm comfortingly when he spoke of how he missed his family, and even with his new cat, Evie, in LA, he still felt lonely often.

“But that’s enough about me,” he leaned back further into the couch. He had just finished telling Rosie a very detailed count of the moment he won the tour ping-pong tournament, a victory that had apparently required him to remove all of his clothing backstage. “I want to hear about you.”

“Oh,” Rosie hummed. “Well, I got that promotion at work I’d been trying for!”

“Hey!” Harry beamed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. “That’s amazing, Ro! Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she preened. “But other than that, not much else has been happening.”

“Waiting for me to come home?” He smirked.

“Stop flirting with me,” she warned, pushing his arm off of her as he cackled. She was grateful that he couldn’t feel how sweaty her hands had gotten from just one silly comment. If only he knew how right he was.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Rosie playfully rolled her eyes, tucking her feet under her bottom for warmth. Even with the woolen socks she’d put on, the cold was a bit numbing.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Harry asked.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Obviously the power is out, so that narrows down our options.”

The pair sat quietly for a few moments, pondering the different activities they could find in Rosie’s shoebox apartment.

“We could watch a movie,” Harry finally suggested.

“I would love that,” Rosie started, “but my laptop battery is dead, and yours is locked in your flat.”

“Why don’t we just watch on my phone?” He pressed. “I mean, it’ll be a small screen but it’s better than doing nothing. I have a portable charger in my jacket, too.”

Rosie’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. She stood up from the cushion and straightened out the sweater she was wearing. “Let’s do that, then. Here, you stay there, I’ll grab your charger.”

“No!” Harry shouted, launching himself off of the couch. “I’ll… I’ll get it. Why don’t you dig around the kitchen for snacks or something?”

“Um, alright,” she furrowed her eyebrows at him. He ignored her, reaching into his jacket pocket carefully before pulling out a tangled cord. “What kinds of snacks are you in the mood for? I don’t have much….”

“Anything’s fine,” he muttered. He had thrown his coat back onto her floor, and was now focused on getting his phone plugged in. “If you’ve got anything alcoholic, bring that, too.”

Rosie brushed off his odd behavior, shuffling off towards her kitchen. She was able to find some crackers that weren’t stale, and a container of Oreo’s that still had a sleeve and a half left. She skimmed her eyes over the liquor cabinet briefly, but there was nothing that would taste good without a mixer, so she let it be.

“Okay, which do you want first?” She asked, holding the snacks in each of her hands. Harry glanced up, scrunching his mouth in thought before pointing at the Oreo’s. Rosie pouted slightly, handing him the package. That’s the one she was hoping to start with.

“No drinks?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing good,” she told him.

“Hmm… bet I could find something.” He stated confidently, sliding his socked feet over to the kitchen. He pulled open her refrigerator, immediately reaching in to grab something. “You have wine in your fridge! Two bottles!”

“Yes, but it’s cold,” Rosie pointed out. “We’ll feel colder if we drink it.”

“Well, if we drink enough, we’ll feel warm,” Harry smiled, already pulling open her drawers in search of a corkscrew.

“I suppose you’re right,” she nodded, following him into the kitchen to fetch the wine glasses from the cabinets.

Harry found the corkscrew on the second drawer he opened, which wasn’t a surprise. He had been over often enough to know his way around Rosie’s place, even if it was just for a few hours at a time. It wasn’t difficult considering her flat was literally one room, plus a small bathroom. The only indication that the kitchen was separate from the rest of her space was the tile floor, as opposed to the carpet that covered her living room. Her bed was in the living room, pushed all the way into the far corner away from the window. Rosie was sure that Harry’s flat was much larger, but he didn’t seem to mind how small hers was.

Once they had settled onto the couch with their drinks and snacks, Harry unlocked his phone and held the screen between them. “Can you see?” he asked.

Rosie nodded. “We’re watching Grease?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Turns out the internet shuts off when the power’s down, and this is one of the only films I have saved into my phone. Is that okay?”

“More than,” she assured him. “I love this movie, used to have a huge crush on Kenickie.”

“Kenickie?” Harry repeated incredulously. “First of all, he’s such a sleaze. Second, Danny Zuko is clearly the heartthrob here. Him and Rizzo are the hottest.”

“Dunno what to tell you, H,” Rosie laughed, “just always had a think for Kenickie.”

“I think I’ll be Kenickie for Halloween next year,” he grinned teasingly. Rosie pretended that she didn’t see Harry’s gaze drop down over her body and then back up again.

“Harry,” she said sternly.

“I know, I know,” he raised both of his hands into the air, “stop flirting with you.”

Rosie let the conversation drop after that. After all, she wanted to focus on the movie. It had been ages since she’d been able to sit down and watch a classic like this.

Just as Danny Zuko belted out the last lyrics of Greased Lightning, Harry leaned over and cleared his throat. Rosie glanced up at him to see that he was already looking down at her.

“Erm, Rosie?” he said softly.

“Yeah H?”

“My arm is getting, like, really tired holding the phone up like this.”

“Oh,” Rosie frowned. “Do you want me to take a turn holding it?”

“Well, I was thinking,” he mumbled, rolling his bottom lip between his fingers. “It might be more comfortable if we just, moved to your bed, y’know? That way we can just set the phone down and prop it up with pillows and stuff.”

Rosie wasn’t sure if it was the wine she had consumed or the soft, calm focus that Harry was putting on her, but she found herself fidgeting with the ends of her hair. She and Harry had sat close together more times than she could count, but sharing a bed was an entirely different story. Things happened on beds, things that she and Harry definitely didn’t do.

As if he could sense her discomfort, he placed a hand on her knee. “I promise I’ll still sleep on the couch.”

His promise didn’t do much to appease her, but she agreed nonetheless, shrugging one shoulder and nodding towards her bed with her chin. “Go get us set up, then. I’m going to pour more wine for us.”

I’m going to need it, she thought.

“Getting me drunk and letting me lay on your bed?” Harry jabbed at her side playfully as he passed her. “If you want me that badly, all you have to do is-”

“Jeez, Harry,” Rosie groaned, unable to keep the smile from her face, “sometimes you’re too cheeky.”

She filled her glass higher than she normally would.

When she finished, she stalked over to her twin bed and carefully sprawled out, trying to avoid spilling her wine. It was a tight squeeze with both of them – their shoulders and hips were pressed together tightly while they both lay on their stomachs – but Harry’s reassuring glance had her feeling more at ease.

It almost felt too good having him this close.

“Alright,” Harry said, taking a quick gulp of his wine, “shall I press play?

~~~

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I WANT!” Rosie yelled, slurring nearly every other word.

“OOH, OHH OHH, HONEY!” Harry shouted back, sounding equally as inebriated.

They had gotten up off her bed ages ago, opting to listen to the movie rather than watch it. The funny thing about having ‘just one more glass of wine, Ro’, was that it had turned into about three more glasses of wine, and they had each drank enough to get the room slightly off kilter. It was Rosie who had suggested that they danced when the song ‘Sandy’ came on, and Harry had agreed, leading her around the room in a poorly performed waltz.

Harry had been the one to insist they stayed standing, acting out each of the parts. He knew the lines much better than she did, but it was still hilarious to watch him flounce around her flat dramatically, dodging furniture as he went overboard with every scene.

“I was in a movie, y’know,” he had sulked when she laughed at him.

“Yes, H, I know,” she’d told him, pressing a firm kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

Now, they were more energetic than ever, the upbeat music adrenalizing them to the point of insanity. Harry was whipping his head all around in circles, feet tapping against the ground in fast, short jerks. Rosie was sure she had seen him pull this move when he had performed in London, but she was too busy dancing to say anything about it. Buddy, not wanting to be left out of the excitement, was tearing around the flat, occasionally stopping to jump up and press his nose to Harry’s stomach before racing away again.

“You better shape up!” She continued singing.

“‘Cause I need a man!” Harry interrupted her.

“Harry! That’s my line,” she whined, gripping the back of the couch to keep her balance. “I’m… I’m supposed to be Sandy.”

“Hmm, you are Sandy. I reckon you’d look nice in that costume, too,” Harry said seriously, stopping his twirling to get a better look at her. He had to hold onto the couch to keep from teetering as well.

“I actually was Sandy for Halloween once,” she told him, smiling at the memory. She and her high school sweetheart had done couples costumes her senior year, and she’d wanted to go all out. “Did you know that for the movie, Olivia Newton-John had to be stewn… stewn… sewn into her costume because it was so tight?” Rosie stumbled over her words.

Harry stepped closer to her. “Were you sewn into yours?”

Rosie was taken aback by Harry’s unfaltering stare. There was an intensity there that she hadn’t seen from him before, and certainly hadn’t been there just moments ago, and even though she knew that it was irresponsible to egg him on, she didn’t want to stop.

“No…” she told him. “It was really tight, though. Completely made of elastic.”

“Wow,” he sighed, raking his eyes up and down her frame with wine-hooded eyes. “Wish I had been there for that….”

He was close enough now to touch her, but his arms hung straight as needles by his sides. The air surrounding them, though freezing, was thick with tension. Everything felt hazy, as if anything outside of the moment was immersed in fog.

“My boyfriend at the time… he was dressed as Danny.”

Harry’s lips curled downwards into snarl. “Don’t have a boyfriend now, right?”

“Nope,” she whispered.

Harry’s arm lifted to her waist. Rosie couldn’t move, and even though she knew her heartbeat had picked up a considerable amount, she felt like it wasn’t beating at all. She swore her lungs stopped working the moment his fingertips buried into her sweater.

“That’s… good, yeah?” He hushed, watching his hand like somebody else was moving it for him.

“What?” She breathed, unable to pay attention to anything but his touch.

“‘S good that you,” he gulped, “s’good you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Why’s that good?”

He wrapped his arm further around her, pulling her closer to him. Rosie placed her palms flat against his chest, and relished in the fact that his heartbeat was just as erratic as hers.

“‘S good because you look, just, so beautiful,” he answered softly. Rosie couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“Stop, um, stop flirting with me, Harry.”

His name had barely escaped her mouth when his lips pressed to hers. The kiss was gentle; timid, almost. Rosie didn’t dare move her hands, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the moment. Harry’s head tilted skillfully to the left, his nose just barely brushing against hers. He sucked on her bottom lip like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, only pulling away to breathe in deeply. Rosie felt hypnotized.

When Harry finally took a small step back, they were both panting.

“Can’t believe I just did that,” he touched his fingertips to his lips. Rosie, however, was less than pleased by the distance he had created.

Taking a bold step forward, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. He watched her with eager eyes. “I can’t believe you just stopped,” she quipped.

Their second kiss was more intense, full of open mouths, clashing teeth, and tongues moulding against each other. It was sloppy, and tasted bitter like wine, but Rosie felt like she was flying. She loved the way Harry’s hands explored her body: running up and down her sides, tangling into her hair, and even reaching down to squeeze over her bottom. It was all heavenly.

She didn’t fight him when he walked her backwards towards the bed, and she definitely didn’t stop him when his hands pulled up on the hem of her sweater. She reached for the button on his jeans in retaliation, and the sounds he made were melodic, more beautiful than any song she’d ever heard.

“Ro,” he panted, rubbing over the fleshy part of her stomach with his thumb, “can I please….”

“Yes,” she breathed into his neck, “please, take it off."

She lifted her arms above her head, and Harry slowly tugged the material off of her, leaving her in nothing but her leggings and bralette. As soon as her shirt hit the floor, his hands were all over her; rubbing at her chest, latching onto her hips, even flicking at her nipples with his thumbs through the thin fabric.

Rosie tugged at one of the strings on Harry’s hoodie. “Take this off,” she demanded.

He complied, whipping his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one go. She gawked at the way his tattoos looked in the candlelight, shadows flickering over the black ink in a dizzying motion. She couldn't decide if she wanted to stare at him or cover him in kisses.

She settled on the latter, sinking to her knees and pulling him forward by the backs of his thighs. Harry clearly hadn’t expected this, as he stumbled forward and nearly kneed Rosie in the chin.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Rosie couldn’t respond. She was too busy craning her neck to reach the center of Harry’s stomach. She placed one firm kiss to the patch of soft skin directly above his navel, and then she worked her way down with lighter, more delicate brushes of her lips. One of Harry’s hands reached down to tangle into her hair and gently press against the back of her head, guiding her downwards towards the waistband of his jeans.

“This okay?” She asked, fingers hesitantly brushing along his zipper. She could already tell that he was aroused, if the growing bulge under her hand was any indication.

“Yeah!” He panted, nodding vigorously, “please, yeah, ‘s fine.”

Getting his jeans off was difficult. They weren’t as tight as he used to wear them, but they still caught around his ankles and forced him to balance on one leg at a time to pull them off of his feet. Rosie had to scoot backwards slightly to give him more space.

As soon as they were off and flung across the room, she crawled back forward and drank in how appetizing he looked. He was swollen and leaking under his boxer briefs; a small wet patch leaking through where his head strained against the fabric.

Harry was breathing in broken puffs, the anticipation causing his chest to heave. Rosie watched as he reached down and pulled himself out of his underwear, sighing out loud when he gave himself a few short pumps. The bulbous head of his cock was a bright cherry color, while his strong shaft faded into a lighter pink. His foreskin had already been pushed down from the fisted grip he had on himself.

Her hand reached out to cover his. She followed his movements as he jerked himself off, marvelling at the way his thighs shook with each brush over the tip. The precum that hadn’t leaked into his boxers was now spread all around him, and the wet noises that his hand made with each movement were practically sinful.

Harry moved his hands away the moment Rosie leaned forward to suck part of him into her mouth, choosing instead to once again bury them into her hair. The pressure of his hands wasn’t forceful, but comforting. He would press her head forward just as his hips would shift, fucking into her mouth gently and slowly. Rosie closed her eyes, toying with the band of his boxers that were still tight around his thighs as the weight of him slid heavily against her tongue.

“Rosie,” he mumbled halting his movements. She let him drop from her mouth to peer up at his face, nearly moaning at the sight of his flushed chest and the thin sheen of sweat that glinted off of his skin. “Gonna cum soon… I don’t know if… did you, like, want to have sex?”

Rosie wanted to, she really did, but she was also hyper-aware that they were both still rather tipsy. She knew that if she had sex with him tonight, she might regret it in the morning. They hadn’t even had a conversation about what they were doing.

“Is it okay if we don’t?” She asked.

“Of course!” Harry gushed. “Not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do. I mean, obviously.”

“Okay, thank you,” she mumbled. She reached up to grab onto his cock again, squeezing it slightly. Small bubbles of liquid were dribbling from the tip, and she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the way they dripped down the underside and soaked into the small mousey hairs gathered at the base.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, closing his eyes at the feel of her fingers on him.

“Gonna help you finish,” she stated, pressing her mouth against his hip. “Then… will you maybe… just touch me a little?”

“Can do that,” he nodded, his jaw noticeably tightening. He bent his torso forward slightly to reach the hooks at the back of her bralette, fumbling with the delicate lace before pulling it open. It fell forward into the crooks of her elbows, and she quickly discarded it onto the floor.

The heat pooling between Rosie’s legs was slowly becoming unbearable, and Harry undressing her while she was still on her knees was making her impatient. She could already tell that she’d soaked through her underwear, so she hurriedly put Harry back into her mouth.

“Whoa,” he gasped, “slow, slower, Rosie. Promise I’ll touch you as soon as I’m done.”

He rubbed a finger soothingly along her jaw, encouraging her to open her lips wider. He went back to moving in and out of her mouth, pushing a little bit deeper down her throat with each thrust, but never to the point where she felt like she was going to gag.

“‘M about to cum, Rosie! ‘M gonna….” He warned not two minutes later. “Fuck!”

He was partially pulled out of her when spurts of salty, warm cum burst from him. Most of it landed on her tongue, but a few drips escaped over her lips, leaking down her chin and onto the floor beneath her.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The air surrounding them was musty and dense.

“Let’s move to the bed, yeah?” Harry requested tenderly, tucking himself back into his briefs. He gripped her hand in his own and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve got a bit of….”

He swiped his tongue out over her lips, lapping up the remnants of his orgasm from her skin. The open-mouthed kisses soon moved down her chin, over her jaw, and into the dip where her neck met her shoulder. He shuffled them both sideways until they fell unceremoniously onto her bed.

“Oof,” Rosie grunted, grimacing as her breasts bounced a little bit too heavily from the impact. This seemed to catch Harry’s attention, as he immediately moved to press his face into her chest, nipping at the skin above her cleavage.

“These are so nice,” he complimented, taking a breast into each of his hands.

“Thanks, grew them myself,” Rosie sighed.

“God,” Harry choked out a short laugh, “shut up, will you?”

And she did shut up, but only because he was petting her over her leggings and she thought she might scream if she opened her mouth.  

It felt amazing, but Rosie knew that she needed something more. She let out a small noise, pushing her leggings and underwear down slightly. Harry smiled, leaning back to pull them fully off of her legs.

“Harry,” she whispered. His calloused fingers brushed over inner thigh.

“Everything okay?” He asked, meeting her stare.

“Yeah, just,” she gulped. “I’m probably gonna be pretty quiet, but it’s not because it doesn’t feel good! I just need to… focus.”

“Okay,” he laughed, “good to know.”

“Wait!” She said just as is hand shifted closer to her center. “I haven’t… shaved in a long time. It’s just, it’s Winter and I wasn’t expecting-”

“Rosie,” he deadpanned, “I’ve literally never cared about anything less.”

And then he was touching her. He played her like a musical instrument, plucking at her clit with his thumb and slowly moving his fingers in and out of her. He was tucked into her side, using one of his legs to hold hers open. His head dipped slightly so he could wrap his lips around the nipple closest to him. Everything about him was soft and slow; purposeful and skilled.

The pads of fingers were rough and calloused, and Rosie closed her eyes at the feeling. She felt her legs twitch every time he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, and her stomach clenched every time he bit down on her nipple. It was sure to feel bruised tomorrow, but she didn’t mind.

“Hm?” Harry hummed when Rosie sucked in a particularly sharp breath.

“‘M good,” she assured him, “feels good.”

She could feel his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction to his touch. His movements were calculated; curious fingers exploring her inside and out.

Rosie came quickly, euphoria taking over her body as Harry continued working her through her orgasm. Her back arched off of the bed, and Harry eagerly kissed at her neck as she threw her head back. As soon as it felt too sensitive, she grabbed onto his wrist to halt his movements.

A giggle escaped her lips as Harry wiped his fingers on his bare thigh. He had a silly, satisfied smile plastered across his cheeks, and he shifted them both so that he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Now that neither of them were moving, the cold air was freezing against their exposed skin. Rosie quickly pulled her covers over them.

They stayed like that for a while, occasionally nuzzling closer for warmth or pressing small kisses wherever they could reach. Rosie felt dopey; cuddling with Harry post-orgasm was the most addicting drug she’d ever consumed.

She never wanted to move, but Buddy started yelping desperately at the door. She groaned, burying her face into Harry’s shoulder. He pouted when she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

“I need to take him outside,” she frowned.

“I’ll come with,” Harry announced.

After they haphazardly threw on some clothes (Harry had borrowed some of her sweatpants and his sweatshirt was inside out and backwards, and Rosie wasn’t wearing any underwear), they found themselves shivering outside while they waited for Buddy to finish. Despite their impatience, Buddy had decided to take his time, sniffing every single thing that his nose could reach.

“If it weren’t so bloody cold, this might be romantic,” Harry pointed out.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. This was the closest they’d come to actually addressing... everything, but she was still feeling a little bit wine-buzzed, and didn’t want to start a conversation she couldn’t finish. However, it did feel a bit romantic. Snow was falling in large, fluffy clumps, and the combination of streetlight and moonlight was casting a soft glow over Harry’s face.

“I think my brain is numb,” Rosie told him, deflecting from his previous statement.

“‘Cause of the cold, or something else?” Harry snickered, leaning over to bump his shoulder into hers.

“The cold, Harry,” she rolled her eyes. Harry continued laughing at her, so she ignored him while Buddy finished up. As soon as he was done, Rosie was making a beeline towards her door.

Harry was hot on her heels. “I know it’s not much warmer inside, but anything is better than this,” he stated, blinking his eyes against the wind. “Hopefully the power comes back on soon.”

Rosie hummed in agreement, twisting the handle and letting them back inside. It was just a short climb up the stairs, but Harry placed his hand on the small of her back to help her keep her balance. She could practically feel the heat of his skin burn through the thick layers she had on.

As soon as they were back in her flat, Rosie looked at him. His cheeks were flushed red and his nose looked a bit runny, but it was cute when he scrunched up his face, and she loved the way his hair looked when he pulled off his beanie, sticking out in nearly every direction as if he’d been electrocuted.  

She stepped up to place a quick peck against his lips, but Harry prolonged it, following her movements as she went to pull away.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed against her mouth. “What was that for, hm?”

“Just trying to be a good hostess,” Rosie breathed. Their closeness was dizzying.

“Ah, I see,” he grinned, “do you give all of your guests this kind of treatment?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” she teased, pulling away and stepping back to finish unzipping her coat. Harry frowned.

“Heeeey,” his hands latched onto her forearms, pulling her back into his chest. “‘S rude,”

He nudged her fingers out of the way and dragged her zipper the rest of the way down for her. His tongue poked out from between his lip as he concentrated on not getting any fabric caught between the tines.

They moved slowly while they got ready for bed, partly because Harry refused to take his hands off of her, but also because they were exhausted. While Harry finished wiping down Buddy’s feet, Rosie walked around her flat to blow out all of the candles apart from the one right by her bed. Once Harry stripped down to nothing but his sweatpants, and Rosie had changed into an oversized t-shirt, they sluggishly crawled under the blankets.

“Erm, I can sleep here, right?” Harry asked, picking at the corner of the covers. “I can still sleep on the couch if you want me to.”

“Harry,” Rosie smiled, shaking her her head, “you’re obviously sleeping here. Now pull the covers back up, you’re letting the cold air in.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, instantly scooching down in the bed and curling himself around her. She leaned over his frame to blow out the last remaining candle, and then burrowed herself into his arms.

Harry’s hands were icicles against her bare hips, and hers were frigid against his back, but it was the kind of cold where it was comfortable; the kind where they both knew that as long as they stayed pressed together, their hands would warm up against each others’ skin.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Harry whispered, so quietly that Rosie could have dreamed it.

“Always welcome here….” she returned as she began to drift off. She thought she heard him start to say something else, but her eyelids suddenly felt ten times heavier, and Harry’s thumb circling her hipbone was almost too soothing. Rosie drifted off to the soft rumble of his voice, and the rough texture of his fingertips on her skin.

~~~

Rosie woke up the same way she does nearly every morning: a wet, cold tongue lapping at her cheek. She forced herself to peel her eyes open, and found herself nose to nose with Buddy, who was wagging his tail expentently.

As more and more of her senses returned, she became acutely aware of Harry’s hand on her hip. His chest was pressed snugly to her back, and small puffs of air were hitting her scalp where his face was nestled into her hair. A smile crept up her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to settle into his warmth, but Buddy was growing increasingly impatient, letting out small whines and shifting his feet on Rosie’s leg.

Not wanting to wake Harry, Rosie gently lifted Harry’s arm enough to slide out without disturbing him. He shifted slightly, pulling the covers closer to his chin and letting out a small affronted sound, but thankfully, he stayed asleep.

The power must have turned back on overnight, because her flat was suddenly a comfortable temperature. Rosie let out a sigh at the thought of finally being able to lounge around comfortably.

“Hey boy,” she whispered, unhooking Buddy’s leash from the hook by the door. She held it out towards him and he pranced over to her, exposing his neck so that Rosie could attach the leash to his collar. “Wanna go for a walk?”

The moment she stepped out of the complex, her lips curled into a snarl. Snow certainly looks nice, but she hated the way that the small frozen particles scratched at her skin in the wind, and she definitely didn’t like how it hurt to breath in through her nose. Buddy didn’t seem to mind, already sniffing around to find a suitable place to do his business.

Once he was finished, Rosie decided that she would only take him around the block once. Normally, she’d go longer, but the bitterness in the air and the promise of returning home to Harry made her want to rush. She would take Buddy on an extra long walk later on.

Harry was just as she left him when she got back into her flat, but this time, his hooded eyes were blinking rapidly in the sunlight.

“Mmm, hi,” he groaned, raising his arms above his head in a stretch.

“Morning,” Rosie replied, eyes lingering on his biceps that were peeking out from under her bedsheets. “Sorry if I woke you, Buddy needed to go out. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“‘M up now,” he grunted, “you should come back over here….”

His tone was soft and inviting, and an involuntary flush crept up Rosie’s cheeks. Remembering how warm he’d felt pressed up against her left a chill over her skin that rivaled the biting cold outside. She quickly bent down to untie her snow boots, trying to hide her reddening face from him.

“Please?” Harry whined when she didn’t respond. “‘S cold, and you’re warm.”

“Shouldn’t you get up too, H?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “the plows have already been through, so you should probably call the locksmith to get your car open.”

“Yeah,” he muttered indifferently.

Rosie knew that the moment she looked at him, she’d be a goner, and while she normally doesn’t like to get back in bed after moving around, she was going to have to make an exception. Just as she’d suspected, as soon as she settled her gaze on where he was laying in bed, she was met with puppy-dog eyes and an outreached hand.

“Fine,” she relented. “Let me just get my coat off.”

“You can take off everything else too, if you’d like,” Harry called out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

“Stop flirting with me!” Rosie grinned, giddiness seeping into her bloodstream. She felt jittery, excited, and far too focused, as if she’d just gulped down three cups of coffee.

“Think we’re a bit past that, Ro.”

Rosie huffed playfully, going to set her sopping boots and coat on top of the radiator by the window. There was nothing more pleasant than putting on warm, dry boots before heading out into the winter. As she was walking across the room, she noticed Harry’s jacket thrown across the floor, so she picked it up to place on the heater as well.

Just as she was shaking it out to set down, something heavy fell out of his pocket and hit the floor with a thud. Rosie’s eyes widened as she bent down to pick up the set of keys, dangling it over her pointer finger. Not only were his car keys attached, but a key nearly identical to her own hung from the collection.

“What was….” Harry trailed off after seeing what she held in her hand, “...that… um….”

“So you weren’t locked out after all?” Rosie bit out. She felt heat creep up her back and over her shoulders, the giddiness she had felt just moments ago giving way to disbelief. He had lied to her.

“Um, no, I wasn’t,” Harry admitted with a sigh, scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with her. “I… I was just….”

Rosie threw the keys onto the table. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, but she knew she had to do something, so she began to organize the blankets that she’d set out on the couch for Harry. Blankets that had gone unused.

“Just what?” Rosie snapped. “Just coming over to see if you could get me in bed with you? Is that what this is?”

“What? No, Ro. Absolutely not!” He threw the covers from his lap, rushing to his feet. Rosie stormed over to the closet and shoved the blankets inside, closing it more harshly than she normally would. When she turned back around, Harry was already walking towards her, a wild glint in his eyes.

“Well you did a mighty fine job, Harry,” Rosie seethed, ignoring his attempt to brush his hand along her arm. “Managed to get my clothes off, on my knees for you. You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Rosie, no,” he pleaded, gently wrapping his fingers around her bicep to keep her still. “I swear, I would never do something like that. I wasn’t trying to trick you, or anything of the sort!”

“Then why lie about being locked out?” She demanded. “This… last night was a mist-”

“No!” Harry begged, cutting her off. “Please don’t say it was a mistake… it… it wasn’t-”

“And what about all of the other times?” Rosie interrupted. “Were you ever actually locked out of your flat, or were you just trying to… I dunno… wear me down?”

“How could you even think that?” Harry growled, his desperation morphing into something else entirely. He tugged at the ends of his hair with the hand that wasn’t gripping her arm, his eyes closing in exasperation. “I care about you so much.”

“So this is the only time you’ve lied?” She challenged, watching as his jaw flexed.

“Erm… not exactly,” Rosie went to tug her arm out of his hold, but Harry stepped closer, not allowing her to storm off like she’d planned. “But it’s not what you think! The first time, I really was locked out. It’s just… you were so sweet to me, I- I wanted to spend more time with you, that’s all.”

“You could have just knocked on my door,” she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t need to lie to me to spend time with me.”

“I know,” he rubbed a hand over his face. The tips of his ears were tinged bright red.

“I… I really don’t appreciate dishonesty-”

“I was nervous!” Harry exploded. Buddy yelped on the bed, stressed out due to the tension in the room, and Rosie took a short step back, not expecting him to be so loud. “You… you make me so nervous. Like, when Mr. Goldman moved out of this place, I had never even thought about anyone new moving in, let alone a cute girl…. Like, Ro, I’m not even kidding, I’ve had a crush on you since I first met you.”

“You… you could’ve-”

“And I know I’m shit for being dishonest, but fuck, you took me by surprise. I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted, looking down at their feet. “I never meant to upset you, I really just wanted to get to know you better. And then, once I started… I couldn’t stop.”

“Harry,” Rosie breathed brokenly, the air getting caught in her throat. “I don’t really… know what to say.”

“Just… say you forgive me?” he asked, his gaze lifting to flit around her face for any indication that she understood. “I’m so sorry.”

And then Rosie was laughing. It was definitely not an appropriate time, but she couldn’t contain her giggles. So many conflicting emotions were rushing through her; excitement, anxiety, relief, frustration. It was overwhelming.

“Um,” Harry watched owlishly as Rosie bent over to grip her knees, overcome by fits of laughter. “I’m... uh….”

“God,” she choked out finally, “you are such an idiot, Harry!”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No! I don’t mean, like, literally.” Rosie forced herself to stop laughing, but was unable to wash the smile off of her face. Harry looked both impatient and perplexed. “It’s just… hilarious. You could’ve asked me out that very first time and I would’ve said yes.”

A slow smile crept up Harry’s cheeks.

“And I’m sorry for laughing, it’s just,” Rosie continued, “it’s so simple, and we’re so fucking dramatic.”

Harry started laughing then, too. He dragged a hand all the way down his face, rubbing at his tightly closed eyes before blinking them back open to stare at her.

“So, just to clarify here,” he started. Rosie launched into another set of quiet giggles when she saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You… would go out with me.”

“Yes, Harry,” she replied, “for fucks sake, I like you so much. Thought it was obvious.”

“I thought I was the one being obvious!” His shoulders sagged as the tension left his body. “We’re both idiots.”

“So stupid,” Rosie agreed.

“And god, so fucking oblivious,” he added.

“So oblivious.”

“And we’re also… getting dinner tonight?”

“Going on a date,” she confirmed.

“Yeah,” his smile was so wide, she probably could have counted all of his teeth. “That, a date.”

“Yeah,” Rosie beamed back at him, twiddling her fingers together, “so… you should probably go, then. And maybe, I dunno, put some clothes on?”

Harry glanced down as if he’d forgotten that he was shirtless. “Might be a good idea.”

Rosie leaned back against the wall as Harry gathered his things. Somehow, the handful of belongings that he’d brought had scattered all around her flat: his phone charger, his sweatshirt, his beanie. One of his socks was on the other side of the room, it’s partner stuffed into one of his boots. It didn’t help that Rosie was also disorganized; Harry was forced to move piles of her things aside to reach his own.

Finally, he’d collected everything into his arms. Rosie opened the door for him, but he lingered in the doorway, leaning back onto his heels and rubbing his lips together.

“Well I guess, erm, I’ll just see you later?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You will,” Rosie confirmed. “6:00, somewhere we could walk to?”

“Sure,” Harry said. They were engulfed in an awkward silence, and there was nothing else to do but stare. “Uh, bye then?”

“Bye,” Rosie repeated quietly, shutting the door as soon as he’d turned around.

She pressed her back against the door with a huff, mind reeling from everything that had happened. It had all gone down in such a short period of time, it almost didn’t seem real. Had Harry really dragged his lips all over her body, or had that been her imagination?

She had just started to walk towards the bathroom to check in the mirror for hickeys when a knock sounded on her door. She whipped it open to find a sheepish Harry on the other side. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but when he finally spoke, there was a twinkle in his eye.

“I… may have forgotten my keys.”

~~~

To those of you made it this far, thank you! I’d love to hear from you if you’re willing to shoot me a message... feedback is key, after all! 

xxxooo Tile

[out-of-jams]

Gossip Girl

↠ Gossip Girl ↞ Part of my Bangtan Netflix series!

Every year, you and your seven childhood friends spend the holiday weekend together at Jin’s resort in the Alps. It’s always a good time: drinking, the occasional recreational drug, and the divulging of secrets. It’d been another routine, fun weekend with your friends.

Until one of you leaked everyone’s secrets to the city’s biggest gossip site. Should be easy to find out which one of you did it, right? Who was responsible for dragging everyone’s reputation into the dirt? Too bad no one could remember what had happened that weekend. Or so you all say.

Which one of eight, pretty little socialites spilled their ugly truths? Why, that’s a secret I’ll never tell.

                                           xoxo

                                     Gossip Girl

              Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

              Warnings/Genre: Mature themes. Socialite!au. Gossip Girl!au. Explicit language. Fluff. Angst. Backstabbing. Mystery. Drug use. Alcohol use. Light violence. Allusion to criminal activity. Friends to lovers.

              Word Count: 18.5k

A/N: Whew! This was a beast for me to write let me tell ya! But it's also my first one shot of this size and caliber. Well, and my first time writing smut too (cringe). Hopefully it turned out well.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

                               | | Masterlist | |

             Hey Upper-Eastsiders, Gossip Girl here: your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite. And do I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources sent me something that I think you’d all like to see.

Not even the gentle hum of the elevator could drown out the sound of your rapidly beating heart. While you watched the golden lit numbers above the steel doors count up as you ascended, you couldn’t help the shaking of your hands. You had maybe fifteen more seconds to pull yourself together.

Your mascara coated eyelashes tickled your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut. One, two, three. That was all you gave yourself before you opened your eyes and stood up straight. The silk yellow ribbon tied around your neck threatened to strangle you to death, but you ignored it in favor of the elevator doors opening.

Cigar smoke. That was the first scent to assault your nose.  

Fuck.

Jin only smoked cigars when he was overly stressed and on the precipice of a meltdown. He always complained that they damaged his beauty. Like the tobacco would somehow come to life and mar his face. He always was overdramatic.

Now, however, you were almost tempted to steal one for yourself.

The deep vocal fry of Hoseok’s voice met your ears as you stepped out of the steel box. Heels clacking against the glossy wood finish of the penthouse of Jin’s hotel, you rounded the corner of the foyer. The fancy, grey bricked finish of the walls were normally familiar-- comforting. But now it chilled your veins with ice.

Standing at the bar in the living room, Namjoon was pouring himself a generous serving of scotch. His silver colored hair was glossy under the overhead lights. He must have just recently bleached it since it’d been honey blond just a day ago. Namjoon’s back was to you, but at your entrance he turned with a glass of liquor in hand.

Jin paused from where he was pacing a hole into the expensive persian rug he’d purchased last summer abroad. The pink jacket of his suit was discarded on top of the pool table and the long sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows. A fat, half-smoked cigar dangled from one of his slender hands, the other moving to push his dark hair away from his forehead. Jin’s normally grinning plump lips were pursed in irritation, nostrils flared.

From his seat on the long, orange colored couch, Hoseok halted his movements, his fingers halfway to his lips with an unlit joint. Most of the buttons on his light blue shirt were undone and the muscles of his pectorals were peaked through. And his own blazer was flung over the arm of the couch without care.

“Was it you?”

You didn’t even get to take another step before Jin was all over you. He never yelled at you, at least not in the way that he was now. And you couldn’t help your eyebrows from shooting up into your hairline in disbelief.

“Me? Seriously?” An unamused huff left your lips. “Why the hell would I expose myself?”

“She’s got a point.” Hoseok mumbled around the joint pressed between his heart-shaped lips. His eyes were downcast as he flicked open his 18 carat gold Dupont lighter and held it up to the end. The scent of marijuana mixed with cigar smoke with thick tension.

“So it wasn’t any of us.” Namjoon spoke up, knocking back an unhealthy amount of scotch.

“Who was it then?” Jin turned to Namjoon with fire blazing in his eyes. The ash from his cigar threatened to sprinkle onto the rug, but he didn’t notice. Or care.

“How the hell would I know?”

“Where’s everyone else?” You cut in before the frown lines in Namjoon’s forehead could deepen. WIth a click of your heels, you dropped your birkin purse onto the glass coffee table and sat down next to Hoseok, who offered you the joint and a sad, tiny smile. He should have expected for you to decline. You rarely partook.

The heat of secondhand smoke filled your lungs as Hoseok exhaled and your eyes searched over the stressed men in the room. Jin finally made his way back to the pool table and leaned against it with his forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not here yet.”

Footsteps sounded from around the corner on the opposite side of the penthouse entrance. Through the smoky haze filling the room you could just make out the figure of a man that you would recognize almost anywhere.

With long, curly black hair and broad shoulders covered by a black cashmere shirt, Jungkook sauntered into the room with his customary swagger. Three silver hoops dangled from each ear and the heels of his designer black boots knocked against the floor as he approached. His doe-like eyes met yours and he faltered in his stride, golden ringed hand pushing his hair from his eyes.

Jungkook’s mouth parted like he had something to say, but stopped himself and settled for just giving you a silent head nod of greeting instead. You simply shot him a quick, closed mouth smile and grabbed the dangling joint from Hoseok’s hand. You didn’t usually participate. Didn’t normally take what Hoseok had to offer. But damn did you need it. Especially with what was to come.

The sound of the elevator dinging was a grateful distraction from the way Jungkook’s thighs strained against the fabric of his black slacks when he took a seat on the other couch. Everyone in the room looked up at the two men who rounded the corner. One short and the other taller: Jimin and Taehyung. Also known as the Dynamic Duo.

Taehyung had always been someone of ethereal beauty. With his blond hair and perfectly sculpted face, he’d graced more covers of magazines than you owned. His tall, slender figure was covered head-to-toe in nothing but Gucci as he crossed the room. The man’s normally bubbly, cute boxy smile was gone and replaced by a serious look that you’d never seen from him in all your years of friendship.

And at his side, Jimin possessed a beauty that rivaled your own. While Taehyung was handsome, Jimin was pretty. His light pink colored hair complimented his dainty features and made him look like a fairy with plush, kissable lips and tan skin. Even though he was the shortest of the men in your group, Jimin made up for it with his ability to catch and bag any woman he wanted. Or man. Whichever he was in the mood for.

“Well?” Taehyung’s deep baritone voice spoke up before anyone else could. His steps halted once he made it to the center of the room, though Jimin headed straight to the bar. “Who’s going to take responsibility for this? Which one of you did it?”

You’d never seen Taehyung so angry. Not even when Jungkook shaved half his head and eyebrows as a prank in middle school. But now, Taehyung was burning with heat, the steam from his anger mixing with the smoke intermingling in the air.

“Calm down.” Jin huffed. His dark eyes burned with authority while he puffed on his cigar, his teeth holding it in place like some kind of socialite mobster.

Though, you supposed, he kind of was in a way. Whether the people in the room agreed or not, Jin was the unspoken leader of Bangtan. Which, coincidentally, was the most powerful group of socialites in the city. Everyone turned to your group when they wanted juicy gossip, or for the next big fashion trend, or for a leg up the ladder of the elite. All eight of your families ran a different part of New York City, and since you were the next heirs, it fell to you to follow in your parent’s footsteps.

“Calm down?” Taehyung clenched his jaw in anger. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down when the whole fucking city knows that I--”

“Look, let’s just wait for everyone to get here before we start in on each other. Cool?” Namjoon, ever the peacemaker, spoke as he poured both himself and Jimin another full glass of scotch.

Namjoon wasn’t the biggest heavyweight when it came to alcohol, so you were a little concerned for his sobriety.

“Speaking of,” Hoseok leaned back against the couch and stretched his arms along the back. The warmth of his skin brushed against the back of your neck and you met his eyes as he turned to you. “Where’s Yoongi?”

All attention was on you, but all you could do was shrug. “No idea. He left early this morning and didn’t tell anyone where he was going.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Looked like you weren’t the only one wondering what the hell your brother was up to.

“Did anyone try calling him?” Jimin plopped down next to you on the couch so hard that it sent you bouncing into Hoseok’s side.  

The pink haired man ignored your annoyed glare in favor of topping off his glass and setting the bottle of liquor on the coffee table. Jimin’s sweet scented cologne mixed with the aroma of marijiauna in a dangerous cocktail of temptation.

“He said he’d be here.” Jin spared a glance down at the Rolex fixed to his wrist. “Though it better be soon.”

“In a hurry? You have other secrets you need to go sell?” Taehyung buried his hands deep inside the pockets of his Gucci slacks.

He’d yet to take a seat and continued to stand in the middle of the room like the center of attention he loved to be. His blond hair hung across his brow as he sent Jin a dangerous glare.

“Watch it.” With a growl, Jin pushed off the pool table and stalked closer to the blond.

“Why? You gonna send me away too?”

Your fingers found your temples in frustration. Fights would break out occasionally between the eight of you. It was normal. Expected, even. Given how long you’d known each other, the hard-headed determination that you all possessed sometimes got in the way of one another. Backstabbing would happen from time-to-time, sometimes purposeful and others not, but at the end of the day you’d always be there for one another. But selling each other out?

It was a whole different ball game now.

A sigh left your lips as you drowned out the bickering going on back and forth between Taehyung and Jin. Even though the older man liked to play at being a no-nonsense businessman, he was one of the most immature out of all of you.

Looking up from the rug underneath your heels, you just so happened to meet Jungkook’s stare. His lips were pressed together and his doe eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t discern as he refused to break his gaze. Jungkook’s brows pushed together in an attempt to wordlessly communicate something with you. What that was exactly, you had no idea.

Your eyes dropped back down to the rug with pursed lips and the side of your body that still pressed against Hoseok’s simmered with heat. How did you get yourself into this situation?

Well.

                                   Two Hours Ago

“Time to wake up, Miss Min.”

The sound of metal rings being dragged across a curtain rod wretched you out of peaceful slumber. With your mind hovering halfway between the land of dreams and that of the living, you subconsciously turned away from the sunlight that suddenly beamed across your closed eyelids.

“Not now, Yoomin.” You words were slurred into the cool silk of your pillow. Snaking a hand out of the comforter wrapped around you like a burrito, your fingers searched your forehead blindly. Sometime throughout the night your sleeping mask had gotten pushed up and away from your eyes. “I was having the most wonderful dream. Now let me get back to it.”

Yoomin tutted her tongue somewhere behind you, not that you’d bother to look anyway. The older woman should have been used to your morning routine by now. She’d been working for your family ever since you were a baby and if you were being honest, she’d raised you more than your own mother.

“If you don’t get up now, Miss Min, you won’t get to your first day of the semester on time.” Yoomin scolded softly, voice lilting with her hard Korean accent.

“Five more minutes.”

Instead of granting your wish, Yoomin’s feet padded across the shag carpet in your bedroom and ripped the covers from your body. She ignored your grumbled moans of protest and tossed them somewhere you couldn’t easily reach.

“Breakfast is ready for you downstairs, Miss Min.” Even with the sleep mask covering your eyes, you could picture the woman’s stance: hands on hips and lips pursed. “Get ready and come down.”

“Ugh.” Once again, Yoomin paid no mind to your wordless plea and left the room, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, you tore your mask off and threw it somewhere on the other side of your king size bed.

The royal blue walls of your bedroom greeted you as you squinted against the sunlight. And silk sheets caressed your bare legs while you slowly sat up, fingers running through your tangled hair. The clock on your bedside table read that it was only 9 am and you took a moment to mourn the loss of sleep.

You’d gotten back home sometime late last night/early in the morning. The flight that you’d taken back from the Alps had been delayed due to severe weather conditions. Or whatever. Therefore, you’d only been able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep.

“I really should have taken Jin’s offer and used his private jet.” Your mumbles met no one’s ears but your own as you pulled back the door of your closet. Though, you supposed, it was your fault for wanting to take the latest possible flight back to New York.

Fingers pressing a button on the small remote in your hand blindly, you tilted your head to the side as the designer clothes hung up inside your walk-in closet rotated. Pops of color came and faded out of view while you debated what to wear for the day. Just because you were tired didn’t mean that you had to look it.

Well that, and you would be dragged to hell and back on Gossip Girl, the city’s biggest gossip site, if someone caught you looking less than your best.

Which would happen over your dead, decrypt body.

With a hum, you plucked a black and yellow versace dress from the rack, and grabbed a solid dark green overcoat and matching mustard yellow scarf and birkin bag. You only debated for a moment before grabbing a pair of fishnet tights and wandered into the ensuite bathroom.

The heated tiles were warm and welcoming against your bare feet. And as you showered, you couldn’t help but mentally go through your calendar for the day. It was Monday, which meant that you had a full day of classes and then afterwards you’d stop by Jin’s.

He was the oldest of your group, having four years on you and five on the youngest--Jungkook--so he’d already graduated college. Not that he really needed to, since Jin had been set to take over his father’s five star hotel chain since he was in his final year of high school. He had an older brother, Seokjoong, but he was so wrapped up in the party lifestyle that he’d disappeared into Europe ages ago. It was rumored that he’d cleaned out his bank account and changed his name right before going M.I.A.. No one had heard from him since.

And so, Jin was appointed the next heir of Kim Industries.

Lips pursed in a pout, you swiped on a final layer of lip gloss and fluffed your hair. Your reflection stared back at you in the floor length mirror as you gave yourself one last look over. With skin perfect and makeup flawless, you gave a one shouldered shrug of approval.

The stiletto heels of your mustard colored pumps clacked against the twisting marble steps of your high rise penthouse as you descended. It was quiet. Which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in the Min household. So your arrival on the first floor went unnoticed by anyone but yourself.

Right at the bottom of the steps, across the row of red marble pillars, was your favorite sitting room. A healthy selection of fruits were spread across the knee-high table in the center of the room. But you ignored it in favor of the steaming china cup filled with coffee. The hot liquid hit the back of your throat as you plopped down onto one of the four plush couches.

Reaching across the table, you grabbed the newest Vogue magazine and flipped through it. “Yoomin!”

Your shout didn’t go unanswered for more than a few ticks of silence.

“Yes, Miss Min?” The older woman appeared from somewhere else in the apartment, most likely the kitchen. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a low sitting french bun. A lacy black and white maid’s headband sat atop her hair that matched with the rest of her outfit. You weren’t really a huge fan of the whole ‘suppressed woman’ look, but Yoomin liked it for some odd reason.

With your lips pressed carefully to the porcelain cup in order to preserve your lipgloss, you eyed the woman over the rim. “Where’s my brother? Isn’t he usually forced out of his hidey-hole he calls a bed by now? Or is he still cooped up in the batcave?”

“Ah,” Yoomin folded her hands daintily in front of herself. “Mr. Min left earlier this morning. A few hours ago to be precise.”

Now that had your eyebrows shooting so far up into your hairline that you were surprised they didn’t take flight. Your brother wasn’t known for mornings. Or waking up any earlier than 2pm. He usually had to be forced out of bed if anyone needed him before that, which was a job that nobody wanted. While your brother was quite the softy deep down beneath his cold exterior, he wouldn’t hesitate to tear anyone apart who dared to rouse him from his precious slumber.

You lowered your teacup to your lap, the contents already drained. “Yoongi, up early? Being productive? Sounds suspicious. Did he leave to go back to Korea already and not tell me?”

“No, Mr. Min is still in the city. As for where he went, he didn’t say.” Yoomin wet her lips almost nervously and you narrowed your eyes at the action.

“Really, now?” The cup met the surface of the table. “He left and didn’t say a word? Just waltzed right out the door? Very unlike him.”

While Yoongi wasn’t very warm and receptive towards strangers, your brother had a soft spot for Yoomin. Her family had worked for yours for generations. In fact, she’d left everything behind in South Korea to join your family and immigrate to America. That’d all been years ago, before you were born.

Yoongi was three years older than you, so he’d been around one-years-old when your mother packed up and moved her fashion company from Seoul to Manhattan. Your father moved to Italy right after their divorce, and while you only got to see him during certain holidays and summer vacations, you were a daddy’s girl through and through.

Yoomin paused for a millisecond before responding. “Yes, Miss Min.”

“Ah!” You pointed an accusatory finger at the woman. “You hesitated! What do you know?”

“Nothing, Miss Min.” Yoomin bowed her head before glancing over her shoulder. “If you’ll please excuse me, your mother asked me to drop a few things off at her office.”

The woman disappeared before you could respond, the heels of her mary jane’s clacking against the floor. The ding of the elevator richoched, steel doors closing and leaving you alone in a place that held too much silence.

You’d barely had any time to ponder on the woman’s strange actions when the chirp of a text message rang from the pocket of your purse. Absentmindedly popping a grape into your mouth, you slid the device out and glanced at the text on the screen.

         E-girl blast #830: This just in: looks like if you take the Bang out of Bangtan, you get a very bad girl. Rumor has it that our High Rise Princess isn’t as innocent as she portrays herself to be. Someone should really change her name to High Rise Porn Star.

The blood in your veins froze, lungs stopped inhaling breath, stomach dropped down to the floor. With your mouth hanging open and eyes wide in complete and utter humiliation, the color drained from your face. Because there plastered for the whole world to see on Gossip GIrl’s website was a photograph of yourself. But not just any photo, no.  

It was of you, lying beneath the silver silk sheets of a bed. Your hair was flowing free across the pillow, side profile exposed. And you were obviously naked, only the important bits covered by the sheet. Eyes closed in sleep, you were completely oblivious to the person responsible for the photograph.

The room was familiar. You would have recognized where the photo was taken even if it wasn’t. It was in one of the various guest suites at Jin’s lodge in the Alps. Where you’d been less than twenty-four hours ago. Where that exact picture was taken.

But that wasn’t what caused panic to well in your throat.

                But who is the one responsible for the deflowering of our pretty little princess? Take a closer look and you tell me.

Right below that was another photograph. A cropped version of the first that showed an arm poking out from underneath the covers. It was zoomed in just enough to be able to make out the lump of another body in bed with you. Luckily, the identity of the man couldn’t be seen as he’d burried himself under the sheets like a gopher.

“Fuck.”

           But if you think that’s bad, wait until you hear the rest of what I have to say. Looks like Bangtan aren’t as bulletproof as they want you to think. Let’s move on to our Golden Boy, shall we?

The message continued on, but with the way your vision clouded with panic, you wouldn’t have been able to read it even if you tried. Who the hell sent in that photo to Gossip Girl? And how did they even get the picture in the first place?

Hands shaking, you almost didn’t look when another text message pinged on your phone. But thankfully, it wasn’t from Gossip Girl. With a shaky exhale, you read over the text.

     “It wasn’t me, I swear. You know I would never do that to you.”

Your thumbs hovered over the touchscreen keyboard, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you debated messaging back.

                          “Please believe me.”

The chance to respond disappeared as the phone in your manicured hands rang. You hesitated, not wanting to answer, but knowing you couldn’t ignore it either. Not if you didn’t want him to show up on your doorstep fuming. You blew air out of your mouth nervously and swiped accept.

“He--”

“Family meeting. Ditch your classes and get here now.”

                                   Present Time

“What’s with all the screaming?”

The voice drew you from your thoughts and all sound in the room cut off as heads snapped up in unison.

In the wide entrance of the living room dressed like he was fresh off the runway was your brother. Your heart stopped in your chest and you silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike you down. Yoongi was what you would call an overprotective older brother. He’d always held you up on some sort of pedestal with high expectations that you tried so hard to meet. And you really, really didn’t want to see how he would look at you from your new place on the ground.

Yoongi’s cat-like eyes surveyed the room almost lazily, like he couldn’t be bothered to be there. Whether or not he was affected by the leak as much as everyone else was impossible to tell. Or it would have been if you hadn’t been so close.  

The story that the aggressively bitten nails on his fingers told of his anxiety at the circumstances. His messily styled hair spoke of how he’d threaded his hands through the strands over and over again in an attempt to gather his bearings. And the rhythmic way he clenched his jaw let you know that he was trying to hold himself together.

You hadn’t seen Yoongi like that in a long time. Not since he broke the news to your mother that he had no desire to take over the company. That she should give it to you, the one who actually wanted it, so he could pursue his dream of becoming a music producer instead. Suffice to say, she hadn’t taken it well.

“Finally!” Jimin raised his glass in an alcoholic salute. The scotch splashed dangerously around the rim and you side-eyed the man. Hopefully he wasn’t already drunk off his ass. “Welcome to the party.”

“All sunshine and rainbows here.” Hoseok leaned over to dig around in the breast pocket of his blazer draped across the couch and pulled out another joint. He waved it towards your brother with a smile that lacked its usual warmth. “You’re gonna need this.”

Your eyes dropped to the coffee table when Yoongi’s stare flickered over to you ever so briefly. A coward you definitely were. If you couldn’t even look your brother in the eyes, how in the hell were you supposed to face the rest of the world?

“Alright, listen up.” Jin, finally free of his finished cigar, captured everyone’s attention like the charismatic man he was. His dark gaze met each and every eye in the room before he stuffed a hand in the pocket of his slacks and continued. “One of us here is a dirty, backstabbing scumbag--”

“How are we even sure it was one of us?” Jungkook’s voice finally filled the room, dark brows scrunched once again. With a flash of pink he wet his lips and he glanced around at everyone present.

“The secrets that were leaked to Gossip Girl,” Namjoon leaned against the back of one of the couches, scotch glass filled once again. At the rate he was drinking, he’d be passed out face down in less than an hour. “Were only told to the people in this room. Well...”

Namjoon paused and his eyes found yours. “All but one, at least. But that’s not important.”

Your cheeks heated under the heavy weight of your childhood friend’s stares.

“Or were you too high off your ass to realize?” Taehyung addressed Jungkook, thankfully tearing the attention from you. He crossed his legs from his new spot leaning against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. With his head tilted to the side, he analyzed the youngest with a look that threatened retribution. “Maybe it was you.”

“Why would I expose myself?” The tip of Jungkook’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek roughly. “Or any one of you? It was probably you.”

“Me?” A sharp, humourless laugh bubbled past the blond man’s lips. “I could lose my job for this shit. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at Taehyung condescendingly.

“Arguing isn’t going to solve anything.” Hoseok’s vocal fry spoke over the impending argument before it could start. His eyes were bloodshot and it made you wonder just how high he was. You couldn’t blame him. Not with what he was probably re-living due to the recent exposure.

“Oh really?” Taehyung turned his anger towards the man sitting at your side, lips pressed into a thin line. “This is all your fucking fault. You’re the one who thought it’d be a good idea to drug us.”

Hoseok flinched so hard that you were surprised no one else could feel it. He didn’t respond, instead choosing to cast his eyes down at the persian rug under his feet. The brunette hair that shifted across his forehead did little to hide his crumpled, guilted expression.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.” Junkook’s nostrils flared as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows braced against his knees like he had to physically hold himself back.

“I mean, Tae kind of has a point, as shitty as it is.” From your left came Jimin’s adolescent-esque deep voice. The pink haired man’s stare was captivated by the way the amber liquid in his glass swirled with a flick of his wrist.

“Pointing fingers right now isn’t going to solve anything.” Jin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What do you suggest then, your royal highness?” No one commented on the sarcasm dripping from Taehyung’s tongue.

Instead, Jin stood tall and surveyed the room once again. “We’re going to sit here and go back over every single last detail of what occurred this past weekend. No one’s leaving until we figure out which one of us is the snake.”

He paused, face dark. “And you better pray to God that it isn’t you.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from glancing at the man sitting near you. His own met yours and reflected the same fear that mixed a dangerous cocktail in the pit of your stomach.

“How will going over details help?” The question came from your brother. He’d been so quiet that you’d momentarily forgotten he was there.

He took a few steps further into the room, shedding his jacket along the way. Yoongi sat down in the empty seat next to Jungkook, who didn’t spare him a second glance.

“We weren’t all together the whole time.” Namjoon half-slurred. The scotch was heavy on his tongue, but you couldn’t really blame him either. “People who went off on their own have the highest probability of being the rat.”

“Okay then, let’s just go through everyone’s texts and emails. See who sent it in to Gossip Girl.” Jungkook leaned back into the couch with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Do you know how easy it is to delete a text or an email?” With a snort, Taehyung spoke slowly, like Jungkook was an invalid.

The youngest clenched his jaw in irritation. “Then we’ll just contact Gossip Girl and ask her.”

“You know she doesn’t reveal her sources.” Jimin murmured into his glass.

“I still don’t see how any of this will help.” Yoongi’s raised eyebrow disappeared underneath his blond bangs. The marijuana smoke from his exhale punctuated his words. “But whatever. The sooner we get this done the sooner I can leave.”

“Somewhere more important to be?” Taehyung crossed his arms across his chest.

Your brother looked unamused. “Unlike you, some of us actually work hard for a living.”

You could see the moment the anger behind Taehyung’s eyes burned deeper with rage. “Modeling is--”

“For fucks sake, shut up! You think you’re the only one with things to do?” Jin rolled his eyes and stepped between the two. Yoongi always knew which buttons to push to send someone right over the edge of self control. The eldest’s withering stare shifted over to a wavering Namjoon. “And stop drinking. You’ll be useless if you’re face down in a toilet.”

Jin’s sharp tone called everyone’s attention yet again as the elevator door dinged. From around the corner emerged one of the hotel’s many staff members. The suit wearing man pushed a large rolling whiteboard into the living room, the type that you usually only saw in crime television shows. The wheels squeaked lightly across the wood floor.

“There is fine.” Jin nodded at the staff member who disappeared with a bow of his head.

The eldest strode up to the board where it was situated in front of the room and picked up a black erase marker. He turned to the group as he uncapped it. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

                                Forty Hours Ago

“It’s cold.”

Turning to peer over your shoulder, you sent your brother a yeah, duh look. “We’re in the mountains in mid-December. What did you expect?”

From the roof of the resort, Yoongi stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the private helicopter pad that Jin had installed years ago for easy travel. His icy blond hair was pushed back from his pale forehead with a black headband and his mouth was pursed in a cute pout. Though he’d deny its existence if you pointed it out.

The daegu accent that he’d picked up from his past two years living in South Korea stretched out his words into one long drag. “I hate the cold.”

It seemed that not even the thick Givenchy coat drowning his smaller frame could keep him warm. And the fuzzy earmuffs nestled in your hair couldn’t protect your ears from his complaints.

“The sooner we get inside, the sooner we can get warm.” Your own gloved fingers wrapped around the padded material on his upper arm. Yoongi followed after you without resistance, though the pout failed to fall from his face.

Behind the two of you, a handful of staff members descended the helicopter pad’s steps with you and your brother’s suitcases in hand. Luckily it wasn’t snowing, but the wind from on top of the resort was harsh and sharp. It turned your nose into a runny, red mess within minutes. Which was why you couldn’t disappear behind the metal roof door soon enough.

A sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of heated air hitting your chilled skin. Yoongi’s own grunt sounded from behind you while your fingers hurried to unbutton your thermal coat. The heels of your boots clacked against the hotel’s floor as the two of you strut down the hallway.

The resort was completely empty, as it always was that time of the year. Not because there was a lack of patrons, but because Jin would block out the weekend so your group could reunite before tackling the New Year. At the end of the hall, your fingers pressed the button to call the elevator. Yoongi, red cheeked and sniffling, leaned against the wall beside the closed steel doors and sighed.

“Something wrong?” Your voice was quiet in the empty hall. It’d been a long time since you’d seen him. And while you still managed to call each other at least once a week, it felt like there was some sort of rift between you. An invisible wall that you weren’t sure how to breach.

“No.” Yoongi’s cat-like eyes squeezed shut around a yawn. “Just tired.”

The dark bags under his eyes were prominent. He’d taken a flight from Korea all the way to New York, just so he could join you on another flight and helicopter ride to the resort. Two years ago Yoongi had moved out of the country to pursue his dream of becoming a music producer. And he liked to hide his failures from you as much as he could, but the dejected way he’d sounded on the phone the past few months told you everything he couldn’t.

He was struggling to make a name for himself outside of your mother’s. Yoongi was crazy talented, but he’d chosen to forgo the connections and opportunities that your family name could bring him to start from the bottom. He wanted to build himself from the ground up to prove to himself that he could do it. That he didn’t need your mother to succeed.

Though you supposed that you couldn’t blame just him for the feeling of separation between the two of you. The secret that you withheld from him threatened to drown you with guilt.

The elevator ride was quick and silent. Yoongi leaned against the corner of the steel box with his head flopped back against the wall. You stood at the opposite end, the handles of your purse dangling lazily. The air was tense, yet barren.

With a ding, the doors slid open and the marble flooring of the obnoxiously large and flashy lobby greeted you.

Past the rose gold pillars and other elevators was a classy seating area. Leather couches formed around a roaring, lit fireplace. And behind that were floor to ceiling glass windows that overlooked the snow-capped mountains. Standing in front of the fireplace and roasting himself like a marshmallow was a familiar head of pink hair.

Jimin turned at the sound of your footsteps, bare collar bones poking out from the top of his unzippered ski-coat. His hair was dripping with melted snow and the usual golden hue of his skin was heated with pink. Jimin’s plump lips pulled back into a grin, flashing you his crooked front tooth.

“Hey! Look who finally decided to arrive!”

Hoseok’s brown hair poked out from underneath the thick wool blanket thrown over his head from his seat on one of the couches. You could tell that someone had managed to get the scaredy cat out onto the ski slopes by the pale complection of his skin. His snow boots were scattered on the floor around the couch haphazardly while his fluffy-socked feet were tucked underneath his thighs.  

“Sorry we’re late.” Yoongi spoke from behind you, though his tone didn’t sound very apologetic.

“You missed the whole first day!” Jimin complained as he approached with his arms outstretched. He enveloped you into his hold first, his damp hair brushing the top of your head and his warm breath ghosting your ear. “It’s been a while, Princess. Glad to see you.”

“You too, Jiminie.”

Your own arms wrapped around the man’s slim shoulders and his sweet smelling cologne cocooned your nose with a scent you could only call Jimin. He gave your waist one last squeeze before parting from you and moving over to your brother. Yoongi wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn’t move away when Jimin crushed him in a hug of his own.

Jimin hadn’t been lying. It really had been a while since you’d last seen each other. Even though you were the same age, you went to university at Columbia in the city and Jimin spent his days performing on Broadway. You’d only get to see each other when he had a gap between shows, or during the holidays when everyone had breaks in their schedules.

“You look miserable.” You smirked down at Hoseok as you stood in front of him. The older man looked like a pathetic, soggy burrito wrapped in the blanket like that. He pouted up at you with his heart-shaped lips and dimples and warm brown eyes.

“You have no idea.” Hoseok replied with a sniffle of his red-tipped nose. His socked feet hit the floor as he stood, towering over you. “But it’s nice to see you.”

If you had to rate your friends based on hugs, Hoseok would be the winner without a doubt. Despite his cold fingers, the rest of him was warm, familiar, comforting. Not counting your brother (though you weren’t so sure nowadays), Hoseok was the one you were closest to. His bright personality and welcoming persona drew you to him like the ray of sunshine he was nicknamed after.

“I just saw you two days ago, Hobi.” Your humor filled words were muffled into his shoulder.

His shrug pulled you closer. “Two days too long, Princess.”  

With a snort and a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away playfully. “You’re lame.”

Hoseok stumbled back into the couch dramatically with a hand pressed against his chest. He shot you a fake wounded look. “Lame? Me? Ouch.”

“You’re both lame.” Jimin butt into the conversation, slithering his way between the two of you to stand back in front of the fireplace. Ignoring the pink haired man, Hoseok darted over to your brother with a squee! His socks skid across the floor as he lifted the blond in the air with a tight hug of greeting.  

Yoongi made a noise of annoyance, though the gummy smile that overtook his face told a different story. Hoseok was one of the only people who were capable of bringing out Yoongi’s playful side. While the two of them had their reunion, you busied yourself with plopping down on Hoseok’s abandoned couch.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked Jimin. The heat of the fireplace brushed the thick padding of your coat and threatened to make you break out into a sweat. With a few practiced movements, you managed to shed your plaid printed coat and scarf, leaving you in a knee-length green sweater dress and black leggings.

“I--”

Like magic, the front doors of the lobby swung open, bringing with it a gust of cold bitter air and the trademarked ha-ha-ha! of Namjoon’s loud laughter. In stumbled the rest of the group: Jin, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

“Is it lunchtime yet?” The question came from Jungkook as he shook out the snow from his hair. A pair of ski-goggles were perched on top of his head, but he ignored it in favor of stripping his hands of gloves. The bottom of his boots tracked in snow like it was his job, but it wasn’t like he noticed.

“We just ate two hours ago!” Jin scolded the younger without heat. His honey colored skin was splotched with shades of red from the cold air. Though somehow it only seemed to accentuate his handsome, angelic features.

“Yeah, but I’m starving.”

“Still a pig, I see.” The group stopped in their tracks at the sound of Yoongi’s voice echoing in the lobby.

With a big, boxy grin, Taehyung yelled in excitement and sprinted across the floor of the lobby, his own blond hair dripping wet. “Yoongi!”

“You’re tracking snow everywhere!” Jin’s shout carried well beyond the lobby.

                                Present Time

“That was way before we even played that stupid drinking game.” Taehyung grumbled in annoyance. His eyes were glued to the whiteboard as Jin neatly wrote out the list of events. He was having each and every person go over what had happened from their own point of view. “So why do we have to go over all the boring shit?”

Jin turned to glare at the blond over his shoulder. “Because what I said goes.”

Taehyung simply raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well no one cares about this. Let’s just cut to the interesting bits.”

Before Jin could rip Taehyung to shreds with his heated scowl, Namjoon spoke around the rim of his glass of water. “I hate to agree, but I do.”

“Third.” Jungkook raised his hand in the air like a child in a school classroom.

“Fourth.” You finally spoke up, fingers toying with the cap of your bottle of San Pellegrino.

“Fifth.” Surprisingly, Jimin’s voice came out clear and uninfluenced by half the bottle of liquor he’d downed.

Yoongi just grunted his own agreement, eyes lidded with what looked to be exhaustion, but what you could tell was anxiety.

“Seriously?” Jin waved the marker in his hand around wildly. His eyes landed on Hoseok who just shrugged silently. He hadn’t spoken ever since Taehyung made that comment to him almost an hour ago. “Whatever. Fine. We’ll move on.”

The eldest took a swig out of his glass of scotch and turned back to the board. “We’ll start with the night of the game, then.”

                         Thirty-Two Hours Ago

“Okay, rules of the game.”

Namjoon stood in the center of the seating area with a shot glass full of tequila raised high above his head to gather attention. The eight of you were scattered around in a circle on the various couches and chaise lounge chairs in the sitting area of Jin’s room. It was long after the group of you hit the mountains for some intense snow tubing. And after you’d all headed back to your rooms to shower and get ready for dinner served by some michelin star chef that Jin staffed.

Now, with bellies full and body’s warm, you all sat around in your most comfortable clothes. Multiple bottles of alcohol were lined up on the bar in Jin’s room, but a handle of tequila was currently serving as centerpiece on the coffee table.

From your spot in the middle of the comfy couch, squished between Taehyung and Jimin, you had your own shot glass in hand. It’d recently been refilled, since the group took one together to start off the night. With fire seeping through your veins, you paid special attention to the words coming from Namjoon’s lips, even though you knew the rules of the game by heart. The crackle of the lit fireplace behind the other couch threatened to drown out his deep, raspy voice.

“The name of the game is Sip, Snitch, Spill, or otherwise known as Triple S. Starting from oldest to youngest,” Namjoon gestured to Jin with his shot glass, ignoring the tequila that spilled onto his fingers. He then turned in a slow circle clockwise. Everyone was sitting in age order.

Namjoon pointed at the empty beer bottle on the table. “The one who’s turn it is has to spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets to choose the dare that the person who’s turn it is has to complete. If they opt out of completing the dare, then they have to spill a secret that no one here knows. But it can’t be something stupid that no one cares about; only top secret shit here. Each person only gets three seconds to decide which option to take.

“After that, everyone in the room gets the opportunity to snitch. If someone knows a secret about you that no one else does, they can snitch to the group and skip their turn. If you fail to take the dare, you have to take a shot. If someone snitches on you, then you have to take two shots.”

Everyone glanced at each other with mistrustful, playful eyes. While the game was fun, it was costly as well. Because in the world of the elite, nothing was more valuable than a secret.

“Do all here agree to the rules?” Namjoon raised a brow.

“Here, here!” The shouts of seven people filled the room and overpowered the music flowing from the surround sound speakers.

“Then let’s get messy.” A smirk lifted at the corner of Namjoon’s mouth as he finally took his seat on the other side of Hoseok.

“That sounds dirty. Let’s not.” Jin wrinkled his nose with a huff of amusement.

“What I think you meant to say was,” the comment came from Jimin as he unnecessarily knocked back a shot. “‘That sounds dirty. Let’s.’”

“Anyway.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and elbowed Jin in the ribs from his spot next to him on the love seat. “Start.”

The eldest hummed and rubbed at his chin dramatically as he eyed the empty beer bottle. Like he’d actually have a choice on who it landed on. Jin took his time leaning forward and grabbed the body of the bottle with three fingers, ignoring the groans of impatience coming from the circle. Finally, with a flick of his wrist, he spun it.

Around and around it went, the green of the glass glinting under the overhead lights. Everyone was at the edge of their seats, minds calculating what dare they’d make the elder do, as they waited for it to stop.

“Hah!” Hoseok cheered, doing a stupidly cute dance in his seat at the chances of being the first to give a dare. The leather chaise lounge he sat on made a sound of protest at his rapid movements. But he ignored it in favor of pointing a finger at Jin with a flourish. “I dare you to give Yoongi a lap dance!”

Ooooh!’s erupted from around the circle as each and every person screamed in excitement. Jin’s mouth dropped open in disbelief and he gaped at Hoseok with a look that said dude, seriously?

“Woo!” Jimin’s contagious giggle left his lips, eyes squeezed shut in amusement. “What a way to start.”

“I’m not drunk enough for that.” Jin knocked his shot back and grimaced at the taste. “I slept with my personal assistant last month. Then I fired her.”

“Wait, so if you were drunk enough then you’d do it?” Hoseok’s comment was rudely ignored by Jin.

“Linda?” Jungkook gaped at the older man from his place on the other lounge chair across from Hoseok. “Isn’t she in her late fifties?”

With a shrug of indifference, Jin poured himself another shot. “And?”

“Wow.” Taehyung tutted around the laughter that bubbled up his throat. “Did you really have to fire her though? That’s harsh.”

“She started to get feelings for me.” Jin shrugged yet again. “After I specifically told her not to.”

“Poor Linda.” With a shake of your head, you crossed one leg over the other. You could remember briefly meeting the woman once. She’d been kind yet carried a no-nonsense air about her, which made you wonder just how Jin had managed to bed her. Though you supposed he had his ways. He always did.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be this handsome.” The eldest’s unabashed response had everyone cringing as he broke out into his trademark windshield wiper laugh.

“Moving on.” Yoongi reached forward to spin the bottle without waiting for anyone’s attention. Everyone’s eyes were once again glued on the glass as it spun.

“Huh.” Namjoon hummed from his seat on the leather recliner next to Hoseok. The honey haired man steepled his fingers in front of his chin in thought.

“Why did it have to land on him?” Taehyung pouted. “He takes forever to decide.”

“I do not!” Though the seconds that ticked by into minutes told a different story.

It was clear the moment an invisible lightbulb went off over his head. The dimpled man jumped up from his chair and cleared the room to disappear around the corner into the kitchen. Before anyone could question what the hell he was doing, Namjoon reappeared back into the room with a gallon of skim milk and set it on the table in front of Yoongi.

“I dare you to chase every shot you take with a shot of milk.”

“Ew, what?” You stuck your tongue out in absolute disgust. Though it could barely be heard over the fake retching noises coming from the rest of the boys.

“What’s wrong with milk?” Jungkook asked innocently, causing everyone to shoot him a look.

Yoongi just stared at the gallon of milk thoughtfully before shrugging and knocking back his shot of tequila. The room watched on in shock as he then poured milk into the glass and swallowed that as well.

“Yoongi!” Jin pressed himself into the arm of the couch in an attempt to get as far away from your brother as possible. His handsome features were scrunched up in revolution. “You know you didn’t need to do that, right? Since you took the dare?”

With his gaze focused on refilling his shot glass with tequila, Yoongi’s face remained blank. “I’m not a bitch.”

“O-kay.” Hoseok dragged out the word with a grimace and slid forward on his chair to take his turn. “Let’s all just pretend we never saw that. Anyway.”

The game continued with Hoseok and Namjoon both taking dares. Hoseok had to strip down to his underwear and stand outside on the balcony for five whole minutes. He’d returned inside a shivering, pale mess. Jungkook had taken a ridiculous amount of pictures of him literally crying from the cold to hold over his head as blackmail at some later point in time.

Namjoon had been dared by Jin to order a bunch of lingerie to be delivered to his ex-girlfriend. That one had everyone begging him not to do it. Because unfortunately the last girl Namjoon had dated turned out to be a complete psychopath who stalked him for months on end after he dumped her. But the man just shrugged and stated, “I like them crazy.”

When it was Jimin’s turn, the pink haired man licked his lips in anticipation and spun the bottle. It didn’t turn very fast, just barely cleared two loops around the group before it pointed straight at you.

Jimin turned to you with a smile on his pretty lips. “Give me your best shot, Princess.”

Your own eyes narrowed at the challenge in his and you pursed your lips in thought. No way would you let him get off easily, especially not with the way he was looking at you. So with a smirk quirking your mouth, you spoke, “I dare you to call up your job right now and tell them you quit.”

Another round ooh!’s came from the group at your words and Jimin gaped at you in open mouthed disbelief. “Seriously?”

You gave Jimin a saccharine smile. Normally, you wouldn’t be so vindictive against him, but you were never one to turn down a challenge.

He knocked back his shot and slammed the glass down on the table with a glare directed at you. With a smack of his lips, Jimin begrudgingly addressed the group. “You know how I was able to join my broadway show after open auditions closed last year?”

Jimin’s eyes were glued to the table as everyone murmured their agreement. He was the only one out of your group who didn’t come from a successful family. Instead, he’d had to build both himself and his reputation from the ground up. It’d been hard on him, had taken a lot from him. But now, he starred in one of the most successful, famous broadway shows.

The silver rings on Jimin’s hand caught the light as he thumbed his plump bottom lip. His words came out hesitant, confession caught in his throat. “Yeah, well, I only got the spot because I slept with the director.”

“But you’re so talented!” Now you were the one staring in open mouthed shock. Never would you have expected that to come out of his mouth.

Jimin brushed off your comment and filled his shot glass once again. His words were murmured into the table. “They didn’t think so.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone took time to absorb the information. You weren’t kidding when you’d said that he was talented. You’d never seen someone who could dance as gracefully as he could or who could sing with the soft, unique voice that only Jimin possessed.

“Anyway,” he elbowed you gently and nodded at the bottle. “Your turn.”

The glass was cool under your fingers. You watched intently as around and around and around it went. There weren’t a lot of secrets that you had to hide from your group of friends. Usually, you were pretty transparent. Not only that, but you were the only one in Bangtan made a conscious effort to stay out of drama or scandals. Hence the nickname: High Rise Princess.

“Oh, no.” You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you had the worst luck ever. God, you hated that game.

“Well, well, well. How the turn tables.” Jimin threw an arm around your neck teasingly and pulled you into his side. His fingers rubbed at his chin menacingly as he stared at you out of the corner of his eye. The man didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Let’s see.”

“This’ll be good.” Taehyung relaxed back against the arm of the couch with a smirk of his own.

The second you saw Jimin’s eyes flicker to the blond and the cheshire-cat-esque smile on his face widen, you knew you were in trouble. He gave your shoulder a squeeze before letting go and pushing you over to Taehyung. “Okay, Princess. For your dare, you have to make out with Taehyung for a minimum of thirty seconds.”

The room exploded  and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were known for being “pure” or whatever bull they labeled you as and the fact that you’d never dated any of them, it was kind of a big deal.

“Jimin, what the fuck?” All attention went to Yoongi, who was staring Jimin down with a harsh scowl. He really was overprotective of you when it came to pretty much anything. And that included any and all men.

Jimin just shrugged, but didn’t appear very apologetic. “Sorry, man. But she doesn’t have to do it.”

“I’m not a bitch.” You echoed your brother’s words from earlier before turning to Taehyung. His eyebrows were raised into his hairline and his mouth was agape, but the look in his eyes shone with sudden interest. So you couldn’t help tilting your head to the side and challenging, “unless you are.”

Hoseok’s loud screech and Jin’s obnoxious windshield wiper laugh overpowered everyone else’s exclaims of surprised disbelief. The fact that you weren’t even drunk meant that you couldn’t blame your actions on the alcohol. If you were being honest, you were just tired of everyone looking at you as some kind of sexual pariah. Like you were incapable of being intimate with another person. Maybe it was because you’d all grown up together that they saw you that way, you weren’t sure. But you hated it.

It was suffocating to have to force yourself to be someone that you weren’t.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that Taehyung was one of the most beautiful men that you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“I don’t want to see this. I’m going to the bathroom” Your brother rose from his seat with one last glare shot at both Jimin and Taehyung. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

The atmosphere after Yoongi disappeared was the kind of tension that you only felt when watching a car crash. Like you just couldn’t look away. Hoseok was on the edge of his seat with his jaw hanging open, Jimin was frozen in a state of excited incredulity, across from you Jin covered his eyes with his hands while he continued to laugh, and Namjoon--

“Come here, Princess.” Taehyung scooted closer to you on the couch and gently placed his hands on either of your cheeks.

His warmth seeped into you from his palms and the husky scent of his Dior cologne washed over you. Taehyung was a touchy person by nature, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t cuddled up to you on multiple occasions. But this time was different. Be it from the way his eyes were half-lidded with an emotion you’d never seen him direct at you, or for the way his voice dipped a few octaves deeper from his usual baritone.

“You can still back out.” The words were spoken softly, only for your ears. But his eyes flickered down to your lips when you murmured,

“Why? You scared?”

Without acknowledging Hoseok’s squawk, Taehyung huffed. He didn’t even give you a moment to prepare yourself before he closed the distance and his mouth was on yours.

His lips were both warm and soft. And despite the firm way his hands held you in place, Taehyung’s kiss was gentle. Just the right amount of pressure that bordered on tender and not enough. So when you pressed your lips harder to his to deepen the kiss, you felt the smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth as he obliged.

The heat of a stare burned into the side of your face, but you brushed it off in favor of parting your mouth at Taehyung’s questioning lick to your bottom lip. His tongue met yours in a dance and you could taste the remnants of tequila on his breath as his fingers tangled in your hair. Your own hands remained still in your lap, but you couldn’t help but press closer at his urging.

“And that’s time!” Jimin’s voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Thirty seconds are up!”

Whether he didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, Taehyung crushed his lips harder to yours in a breath stealing kiss.

“Or not.”

With one last lingering press of his mouth, Taehyung caught your bottom lip and dragged it slowly between his teeth as he pulled away. His fingers left your hair and he sent you a flirtatious wink before casually leaning back to his side of the couch, taking his warmth with him. All while dragging his tongue across his kiss bruised lips.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t at least a little bit turned on. It was no wonder he had both men and women falling at his feet left and right.

“That was hot, not gonna lie.” Hoseok whistled, falling back against his chair. “But weird at the same time.”

“Agreed.” Nodded Namjoon slowly. The expression on his face was a mixed bag, stuck somewhere between horror and something else.

“It was okay.” You shrugged nonchalantly, facing back towards the coffee table once more. Out of the corner of your eye Taehyung snapped his head towards you so fast that you were briefly concerned for the muscles in his neck.

“Oka-”

“It’s your turn.” The cheeky smile you sent Taehyung’s way coaxed a hard laugh out of Jimin.

The petite man threw an arm over your shoulders once more and pulled you into his side. Though with the way he could barely hold himself up with his body shaking laughter, it was more like he was leaning on you than the other way around. “A few months apart and it’s like you’re a whole new person. Who are you, Princess?”

The game continued once your brother returned from the bathroom. He’d entered the room and eyed Taehyung with a look that would have any lesser man trembling in his seat. But Taehyung had just given him his cute, boxy smile and took his spin.

Around and around the bottle spun as everyone took their turn. But it was only a matter of time before Jin finally snapped.

“Alright, this is boring! Everyone’s just picking dare and I want some juicy gossip.” His head fell back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. And he took a moment to bask in the attention of everyone in the room before he turned his head, rosy cheek pressed against the couch to address Hoseok. “Go make us some stronger drinks or something. I’m barely buzzed.”

Hoseok simply raised an eyebrow, arm still extended to take his turn.

“Yeah, Hoseokie.” Jungkook mocked in a high pitched voice, lips pursed in a dramatic air kiss. “Go make us drinks.”

“Yah, brat!” Said man kicked a foot half heartedly at Jungkook, not that it would have dealt any damage anyway seeing how far apart they were sitting. “Maybe if you ask nicely I will.”

“Nevermind.” With a shrug, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, “I don’t want it that badly.”

“Please, Hobi. I’ll take literally anything other than tequila.” Namjoon sent his full shot glass a dirty look. He always had preferred dark liquor.

“Well since one of you knows how to use their manners.” That was it took to have Hoseok hopping out of his chair and sauntering around the corner to the kitchen with a shout over his shoulder. “No one play without me!”

“Make something strong!” Jin called after him, standing up himself. Brushing off everyone’s eyes on him, he straightened his shirt and stepped away from the couch. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

And then he made himself scarce as well.

“Well since everyone’s taking a break.” Jimin was staring down at the screen of his phone. You could just barely see a name flash across the screen as it vibrated in his hand. Standing, he gestured blindly to the front door. “I gotta take this.”

“Which booty call is it?” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows at the petite man suggestively right before he exited the room. “Not that it’ll do any good out here. Unless they can teleport.”

“That would be a cool superpower.” The comment came from Jungkook, who was busying himself by playing some game on his phone. No one paid attention to the sound of the front door closing.

“Right?”

“You guys are lame.” Yoongi absentmindedly toyed with the milk jug on the floor with his foot, his attention taken up by whatever was on his phone.

He either felt your stare or you were just that predictable, because Yoongi looked up to  scrutinize you. His eyes narrowed and flashed over to Taehyung and back to you with an eyebrow raised. A silent, questioning what’s was that?

You only shook your head with a roll of your eyes and the protective anger simmering behind your brother’s eyes dimmed at your wordless, nothing, relax. It was a little relieving that even with the distance between the both of you, the ability to read each other’s mind was still there. And must have felt similar if the small smile at the corner of his mouth was any indication.

“Alright!” Hoseok’s loud voice filtered into the room as he rounded the corner with a tray held between both hands. Eight glasses filled with a yellow, bubbling liquid were balanced on top and you took a moment to silently pray for luck.There was a reason why Hoseok was always chosen to make drinks. And you wouldn’t make it out alive if you didn’t pace yourself.

“Wow, perfect timing.” From around the corner leading to the hallway emerged Jin. He eyed the suspicious looking drinks as he reclaimed his seat. “What’s in it?”

With a noise to seal everyone’s fate, the tray was placed on the table. Both Yoongi and Jungkook looked up from their phones and Namjoon paused to eye the glasses. Hoseok just shrugged. “No idea. There’s like--”

He halted his words and you could literally see the way mentally made calculations in his head. “Like five different types of alcohol in those? I think.”

“Better than tequila at least.” Namjoon shrugged and grabbed a glass for himself. He hesitated for a moment to sniff at the contents, like that would somehow help him discern what it was he was about to drink. And finally, he shrugged and took a tiny sip.

Everyone’s attention was on him as he tongued his lips and hummed. “Not bad. Kinda sweet actually.”

Namjoon’s conscensious was apparently all anyone else needed because you all reached forward to grab your own. But you couldn’t help but suspiciously eye the liquid in your cup first.

“Where’s Jimin?” Jin asked around a big swallow and an obnoxious smack of his lips.

“Taking a phone call.” Taehyung walked around Hoseok, who was still standing in front of the table, and reached for a dangerous cocktail. “He’ll probably be a while.”

“Should we wait then?” You asked.

“It wouldn’t be as fun without him.” Hoseok winked down at you. “Who knows what other secrets he has.”

“Messy.” Shaking his head, Jin snorted into his glass.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Jungkook stated nonchalantely, though the shit eating smirk on his lips told another story.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You tuned out the bickering between the eldest and the youngest, especially when Taehyung joined in. Somehow they always managed to bring out the immature side of Jin, not that the mature side of the man appeared that often either. The alcohol was sweet, yet tangy on your tongue with an addictive aftertaste that chased away the bitter remnants of tequila. It was easy to drink more than intended with how difficult it was to percieve the alcohol content.

“Hey, Hoseok.” Namjoon’s raspy voice was almost drowned out by the yelling between the others. Both Hoseok and yourself looked over to the dimpled man, only to see him completely enraptured by the glass in his hands. Namjoon’s voice came out unsure, confused. “What did you put in this?”

“What?” Perplexed, Hoseok tilted his head. “I told you, like five--”

Namjoon cut him off with a small shake of his own head. “No. What did you put in this?”

“I don’t--”

“Did you drop acid in these?” Namjoon’s question caught the curiosity of the others in the room. Even Yoongi looked up from whatever he was reading on his phone.

Hoseok sent his drink a puzzled look. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Mouth agape, you stared up at the man with a look of disbelief. “How do you not know?”

By the wide-eyed look he shot your way, you could already garner a guess. And apparently so could everyone else.

“Have you been tripping this whole time?” Taehyung collapsed back onto his end of the couch laughing so hard that you were a little concerned for the liquid splashing at the rim of his cup.

“Uh.” How you all missed his dialated pupils were was incredible. Hoseok paused for a moment before whirling around to face Namjoon. “Wait, how would you even be feeling it this quick if I had? It’s been like ten minutes, it shouldn’t have hit if I did.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon was still staring incredulously at the almost empty glass clutched in his hand. “Then why is my cup looking at me right now?”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right!” The sudden panic that welled up in your chest surged to your throat as you waved your almost empty cup at Hoseok. “I just drank like all of this! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Never in your life had you ever taken fucking acid. Maybe some marijuana here or there, but that was about the extent of your recreational drug experience. God, what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

“Not freak out, that’s for sure.” Taehyung wet his lips and raised his glass to you in a salute before knocking it back. His adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the whole glass of alcohol in one go.

“Maybe you should go lay down.” From across the room your brother gave you a concerned once over. He was extremely calm given the circumstances. Then again he used to hang out with Hoseok the most so he’d probably actually partaken before. “Try and sleep it off before it hits.”

Slowly, you nodded in agreement, already rising from the couch. You were pretty positive that you were the only person in the room who hadn’t taken the drug. And the thought of experiencing LSD was enough to tighten your chest with panic. Maybe it would be best if you tried to sleep before it properly hit your system.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Wait.” Hoseok stumbled over to you and grabbed at your arm. Before you could process what was happening, he slipped a pen out of the pocket of his pants and glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. The scratching of the pen against your skin caught your attention as Hoseok wrote out the time from ten minutes ago.

“What’s this for?”

“That’s the time you drank it. It’ll be important later just in case you don’t know when or where you are.” Ignoring your I’m sorry, what?, Hoseok looked up at you from underneath his lashes. “Since this is your first time, I need you to pay strict attention to what I’m about to say, Princess. Got it?”

All you could do was nod your head, mind too overrun by alarm. Hoseok paused for a moment to convey the importance of what he was about to say next.

“Three rules for being on acid. One, and this doesn’t really apply to this situation, but it’s important: cars are real, okay? Two: anything you want to try, do it from the ground first. And three: don’t trust everything you see.”

“Very imformative.” Came Namjoon’s sarcastic reply. “Would have been helpful ten minutes ago.”

Hoseok paid no heed to the comment, too busy looking you over with concern. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

How he was completely functional was mind-blowing to you. But then again, with the amount of pressure his parents put on him to take over a company that he didn’t want, you weren’t surprised by the frequency of how much he tried to make himself forget.

“I think I’ll be okay.” You reassured both Hoseok and the rest of the room with a small smile. Gratefully, no one commented on how forced it was.

The only thing you wanted to do was collapse in bed before it was too late. Besides, it wasn’t like you weren’t tired anyway. It’d been a long day.

“If you’re sure.” Hoseok flashed his dimples and the rest of the room bid you goodnight as you slipped from the room.

                               Present Time

“Why are you all staring at me?” You asked incredulously.

“Because you left early.” The capped end of the marker tapped against Jin’s cheek from where he stood in front of the almost filled whiteboard.

“And?”

“And.” Jin stared at you over the rim of his glass of scotch. “That makes you a suspect.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Gaping, you surveyed the rest of the room to find them all looking at you with various degrees of doubt.

From your side piped up Hoseok for the first time in hours and the hoarsness of his voice showed it. “Wait, wait, wait. She wasn’t the only one who left. Besides, wouldn’t that not make her a suspect since she wasn’t even there when we all told each other our secrets?”

His statement gave Jin pause.

Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows together in bewilderment at the statement. “Who else left?”

A moment of silence.

A quick intake of breath.

Hoseok turning to stare at you with wide eyes that knew too much. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only quick witted one in the room because Namjoon’s jaw dropped open in shock.

“I’m confused.” Jin pursed his lips in annoyance at the scene. “Explain.”

Hoseok just shook his head, scandalized. And upon seeing how Hoseok failed to explain, Namjoon took it upon himself to do the honors, ignoring your pleading eyes with an apologetic expression. The fucking traitor.

He cleared his throat, “One person left the room after her. Remember?”

Said person froze, eyes wide and breath stalling in his throat as all attention switched to him.

“Oh yeah.” Nodding, Jin turned his analysing gaze to the person in question. “Where did you go?”

You could literally see the moment that the cogs in your brother’s brain halted and the split second the realization slowly dawned on his face. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension as your brother stood from the couch with absolute rage clouding his face. Fists clenched at his sides like he had to physically stop himself from exploding, Yoongi’s words were bitten out between his teeth.

“You fucked my sister?”

“I-” Jungkook sprang up from the couch, hands raised in surrender and doe eyes blown wide. The rest of the room was too busy staring on in shock (Taehyung), or in messy interest (Jimin), or open mouthed surprise (Jin) to step inbetween Jungkook and your brother. “It’s not what you think.”

Yoongi was seething, tonguing his cheek in a way that warned how close he was to snapping. “Not what I think.”

Jungkook nodded his head vigorously, shooting you a look begging for an assist. But you didn’t know what to say to stop it. And upon noticing your hesistation, Jungkook turned back to your brother and uttered a sentence that sealed his fate in the worst way possible.

“We’re not even dating!”

While Jungkook had enough muscle and strength to disuede a majority of people from trying to pick a fight with him, Yoongi was small and lithe, but strong in a way that most people wouldn’t expect. Your brother had been in many fights throughout the years; he used to hang around the wrong crowd growing up. He was rarely angry, his patience was almost never ending. But if you managed to push him over that line, well, everyone knew not to get on Yoongi’s bad side.

His face clouded, feet carrying him into Jungkook’s personal space. Yoongi’s voice was dangerous and words slow. “So you’re just using my sister for sex?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened even further with panic, but he didn’t step down, didn’t move out of your brother’s range. “That’s not--that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah? Then what did you mean?” Even you could tell that the question was rhetorical.

The tenstion of an impending fight finally spurred you to stand up and stumble a few steps closer to the pair, voice pleading. “Yoongi.”

He turned to glance at you from over his shoulder with furious cat-like eyes and hackles bristled. His stare froze you in your tracks, but you continued on regardless. “It’s fine.”

“Fine.” Yoongi’s tone was blank before he rounded on you. “How long?”

There was nothing that would ever make you feel as small as the way he was looking at you right then. Like he didn’t know who you were, like he was staring into the face of a stranger. Your voice was tiny. “A few months.”

Your brother nodded his head, lips tight. “So you’ve been going behind my back, lying to me, for months?”

He rounded back on Jungkook. “You’ve been fucking my sister for months?”

Again, the question was rhetorical, but apparently Jungkook missed the way you quickly shook your head at him to keep his mouth shut. “I--yes?”

You knew it was coming and yet you we still taken by surprise.

A crack rang heavy in the air as Yoongi’s fist impacted Jungkook’s face. He stumbled back with a hand flying to grasp at the pain you knew was radiating through his jaw. But Jungkook didn’t hit back, didn’t give your brother the fight that he was looking for. He just stood there, palm pressed to his face and eyes rooted to the floor. You couldn’t make out his expression by the way his long hair fell in front of his face like a curtain.

Yoongi, however, looked far from satisfied.

By the was his back tensed, you knew that he was going to go for seconds, and probably thirds, maybe even fourths. Until he felt like Jungkook had paid enough retribution for him to stop. And that, it seemed, was where Jin drew the line.

“Yoongi.” Jin’s voice was almost hesitant. Even the elder man knew that your brother was on a very short fuse and didn’t want to be on the recieving end of the backlash.

Yoongi’s attention flickered over to Jin for a split second and that was all it took for the elder man to step forward. “Kick his ass later, I don’t care. But now isn’t the time; we have bigger fish to fry.”

There was a long, tense filled silence where no one dared to move. Jin just stood his ground, gaze holding your brother’s and refusing to back down. And whether or not that's what broke the fight apart, you weren’t sure. But with one last hostile glare at Jungkook, Yoongi turned on his heel and brushed past you without a second glance.

“Do what the fuck you want.”

The balcony door slammed shut so hard you flinched.

“That was..,” Taehyung let out a low whistle, shaking his head at Jungkook first and then you. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he smirked. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Princess. Congrats on finally losing your innocence.”

You weren’t one to pick a fight with anybody, didn’t like confrontation. But all of the stress made you snap. “Shut your fucking mouth, Taehyung.”

From the corner of your eye, Jimin sipped at his scotch with eyes flitting back and forth between you and the blond to watch the drama unfold. There was a pause in the air before Namjoon filled it. “Let’s just finish what we came here to do.”

His words went in one ear and out the other, your attention focused more on the figure of your brother slumped over the balcony railing. Your feet carried you across the room before you could second guess yourself. The handle of the sliding door was cold against your palm as you slid it open. And the sudden breeze that hit your face was biting.

Cigarette smoke.

Yoongi hadn’t smoked cigarettes since he was in highschool. You didn’t even know where he got one. Guilt sank heavily in your stomach at being the catalyst to the habit he’d spent so long trying to kick.

Not even the noise of city life could cover the sound of your heart beating a tattoo into your rib cage. Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t even turn to look at you when you stood next to him. He just continued to stare down at the people below who covered the streets like ants. A lit cigarette dangled in his hand over the railing, white smoke disappearing into the sky. You let the quiet stretch for a few moments longer in order to gauge his anger. And when he failed to acknowledge your presense, you spoke.

“I wanted to tell you.” The words that left your lips were carried by the wind, but you knew he heard them anyway by the way his jaw clenched in your periphrial. A deep breath, and then, “But I was afraid.”

Whatever he thought you were going to say must not have been that because he angled his head to look at you. But you kept your vision trained on the cars passing far below. The silence he responded with urged you to continue.

“I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now.”

Yoongi rubbed the end of his cigarette against the railing to extinguish it. And finally, his deep voice broke the bubble that encased the two of you. “You thought I’d be disappointed.”

Leave it to him to be able to dig right to the root of your problems with barely any information. He was called a genuis for a reason, you supposed.

A huff of dry laughter passed your lips. “Which you are.”

“Only because you hid it from me.”

His response had you turning to look over at him. Yoongi was staring at a spot on the building across from you without seeing it, jaw sharp and cheeks already turning red in the winter air. It was a testiment to his anger that he was even enduring it in the first place.

“You really think I’d be disappointed in you for being an adult? You must not know me as well as I thought then.”

He turned, brown eyes meeting your own like a mirror. People always used to say that the two of you looked alike, could pass as twins even. “I don’t want to hear the details of your...business, but I thought you’d at least trust me enough to confide in me that you’re in love with him.”

Yoongi’s words took you aback and you gaped at him in shock. “How did you know?”

He simply raised an eyebrow with a silent really? “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Seriously?” You spluttered, spit catching in your throat. Had you really been that obvious? Talk about embarassing.

He sighed. “I think the only person who hasn’t realized is him.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands. “Do you think anyone would notice if I just jumped over the railing right now?”

Yoongi hummed, not even trying to hide his amusement. “I don’t think Jin would want to have to fill out that kind of paperwork.”

“He’ll live. Might even thank me for the free publicity.”

A snort left your brother before he sobered and leaned his elbows on the railing. A comforting pause and then, “I got signed to a record label.”

“What?” You twisted to the side to stare him down as he nervously ran a hand through his blond hair. “As a producer?”

Yoongi’s eyes met your again, most likely trying to gauge your reaction to what he was going to say next. Whatever he found must have satisfied him. “As an artist.”

“Yoongi.”

He broke eye contact to once again stare down at the tiny dots below. “That’s where I was this morning. I was signing my contract.”

Your hands came up to grasp onto the arm closest to you and you squeezed to gain his attention. “That’s so great, Yoongi! I know you used to rap back in the day, but I didn’t know you still did. I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so amazing!”

A gummy smile finally found its way onto his face as he looked at you with masked excitement. “Yeah?”

“Seriously, Yoongs.” You nodded your head with rapid quickness, a grin revealing your teeth. “I want the first copy of your album. And it better be signed too.”

Yoongi hissed through his teeth. “You’ll have to pay a premium for that, sorry.”

Your hand slapped the covered meat of his arm and your laughter that intermingled with his broke through the invisible wall between you. “Aish. Cheapskate.”

His lips parted, most likely to shoot off a sarcastic response, but the sliding of the balcony door interrupted. Both of you turned to look over at Namjoon standing in the entryway. His face was taut with an emotion you couldn’t discern, but with the way raised voices spilled from the open door answered your unasked question. You exchanged glances with Yoongi before trailing after him as he brushed past Namjoon.

Everyone was standing now, attention trained on the way Taehyung once again stood in the center of the room. He glanced up from the phone in his hand at the entrance of you and Yoongi, his other stuffed deep in the pocket of his slacks. The air he carried was haughty, knowing. And he greeted you with a raise of his brows.

“Well, now that we’re all present, let’s get this out of the way, shall we?”

“What’s going on?” Your feet came to a halt as you slid in to stand next to Hoseok and your brother. The former gave you a tiny smile at seeing the tenstion between you and Yoongi gone.

“What’s going on,” Taehyung waved his phone in the air like a token. “Is that while you two were off settling your differences, I got a text.”

“Congratulations.” Yoongi deadpanned, but the model ignored him in favor of continuing.

“I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.” Taehyung shrugged and barreled on without waiting for a response. “Because you see, while you all were too busy playing Clue, I got into contact with my cousin earlier this morning. You know, the one who works for my mother’s magazine company?

“Anyway, as you all probably aren’t aware of, my cousin used to do some side work with the government in cybersecurity. And wouldn’t you know, Gossip Girl isn’t as untouchable as she thinks.”

“Oh, shit.” Namjoon’s eyes widened as he came to the same conclusion that was slowly starting to dawn on everyone else.

“Oh shit is right.” Taehyung nodded. “My cousin found a backdoor past her firewall and straight into the heart of her most coveted possession.”

The man paused, like a movie villian right before a grand reveal. “Her sources.”

“And?” Jin tossed the dry eraser he still held in his hand onto the coffee table imaptiently.

“And wouldn’t you know,” once again, Taehyung waved his phone back and forth in the air like the cat that caught the canary. “At exactly 3:32 this morning, she got an email from a recipient by the name of...”

“I swear to god, stop playing games Taehyung.” Yoongi huffed out in annoyance at the dramatics the other man was playing at.

“So impatient.” Taehyung tutted, arrogant stare meeting everyone else’s before he finally opened his mouth and dropped the bombshell.

“Park Jimin.”

Said man stared open mouthed at the man in shock, unable to formulate a proper response over all the shouts of anger. Jimin threw his hands up in surrender and backed up until his calves hit the side of the couch. “What? No--I--it wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah?” Taehyung stepped into his personal space and shoved his phone under his nose. “Then explain the evidence.”

“I--”

“You were the only one who wasn’t drugged that night.” The blond continued, bulldozing over Jimin’s high-pitched voice. “You were the only one sober who was present when the rest of us confided our private affairs. And--”

His finger jab into the smaller man’s chest. “You’re the only one who had something to gain from ratting us out.”

“Gain what, exactly?” Jin’s voice was steel, broad shoulders straightened with a quiet rage that honestly scared you.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Taehyung glanced at Jin from over his shoulder before digging his finger into Jimin’s chest harder. “He was offered a large sum of money to take us all down.”

“By who?” This time the question came from Namjoon, who’s expression was clouded over with a mix of betrayal and the want for retribution. He had the most to lose out of all of you from the leak afterall.

“That’s a good question.” The model rounded back on a wide-eyed Jimin. “Who indeed.”

“Look,” Jimin liked his lips anxiously under the weight of everyone’s simmering fury. “They offered, but I refused--”

“Who?” Jin stalked over to the petite man, the air around him dangerous.

“I-I don’t know.” Jimin stammered. “They were anonymous. But I swear I didn’t--”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Jin fisted the front of his shirt and shook him hard. You could hear his teeth rattle from feet away. “You little fucking rat.

“I want you to listen, and listen very carefully.” The elder man’s voice was sharp, syllables carefully annunciated. And with a flex of the muscles in his bicep he threw Jimin from his grip so hard that the smaller man stumbled to the floor. “You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of my city before I do something that I’ll regret.”

From his place sprawled out on the floor, Jimin’s pleas to be heard went ignored.

“And if I ever catch wind of you stepping even a toe over the state line, it’s over for you.” Everyone in the room knew that Jin’s threat wasn’t to be taken lightly; he’d follow through on his word. “Now get the fuck out of my hotel and pray that I never see your face again.”

Jimin’s eyes quickly flitting back and forth between the seven of you as if trying to find someone to take up for him, to plead his case. And when his gaze met yours, you broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the rug under your feet instead. The feeling that churned your gut was heavy as your heart slowly hardened towards a man who you couldn’t even look at anymore. Who you were once able to call a best friend.

The heels of Jimin’s shoes scuffed the floor as he slowly stood, lips parting to give one final parting blow. “You really shouldn’t trust everything you hear.”

And then he was gone.

Betrayal tested bitter on your tongue.

                               Six Hours Later

The sound of the elevator door opening halted you in your tracks with one foot on the staircase leading up. Out from within the confines of the steel box stepped a familiar head of dark hair and your heart stopped in your chest before picking up speed.

“What are you doing here?” Your lips parted at the object held tight in one of his hands, the pop of color catching your eye. “And with those.”

“I--” Jungkook licked his lips and threaded his free hand through his locks. The nervous look on his face was something you hadn’t seen aimed at you before and it caused a feeling you didn’t want to acknowledge to well up in your chest.

He stepped further into your apartment, his all black outfit standing out against the bright interior. You hadn’t seen him since everyone left Jin’s earlier. He’d departed so fast that you hadn’t been able to apologize for the way Yoongi punched him. And now there he was, fidgeting in the middle of your foyer.

“I wanted to talk.” Jungkook’s voice caressed your ears.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, stepping down from the stairs and gesturing to the sitting room across from you. He trailed behind as you entered and sat down on one of the couches. But instead of sitting somewhere else, he plopped down right next to you. The paper in his ringed hand crinkled around the two dozen roses it contained.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment before shyly extending the bouquet out for you to take. Your fingers brused against his as you slowly accepted them from his grasp. “I got these for you.”

You completely and utterly failed at hiding your smile and chose to bury your nose into the soft petals to distract yourself from the anxious way he played with his hands. Sweet, they smelled sweet. “What’s the occasion?”

Never had he ever done something like that before. Jungkook and romance wasn’t something that went together in your expierience. And there it was again, that feeling that you chose not to name.

“Y/N.”

The seriousness in his voice had your head jerking upwards. He was staring down, fiddling with one of the rings on his fingers. “I think we should stop.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor and your mouth went numb around the response you forced yourself to give. “Stop?”

Jungkook’s gaze lifted to meet your blank stare and he nodded slowly. “Stop hooking up.”

You were thankful that he didn’t comment on how small your voice sounded. “Why?”

“Because,” his fingers grabbed at yours gently and you couldn’t help but drop your eyes to the way he intertwined them. “I don’t want to hook up with you anymore.”

His grip on you tightened when you tried to pull away, his other hand lifting your chin until you looked at him again. Jungkook’s lips were parted, two prominent front teeth displayed. “I want to date you.”

A pause.

A sharp intake of breath and the tightening of fingers. “I’m sorry, what?”

Now he definitely looked nervous. Jungkook’s words came out quickly, like he was afraid you’d stop him before he could get them all out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Y/N. And I thought that maybe if you hooked up with me, you’d fall for me too. But I...I don’t want to lose you because I took too long.”

All you could do was stare open-mouthed and bug eyed. And the longer you took, the more Jungkook started to fidget. “Look, please just say something.”

“You’re an idiot.” He flinched at the deadpan tone in your voice. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.”

“Really?” Hope filled his voice and he leaned closer, both hands capturing yours. “Seriously?”

Giddy, you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt under the strain. “Yes, really.”

“Can I--can I kiss you?” With a shy nod, you let Jungkook’s hands come up to gently cradle your cheeks.

It was different, the way his mouth captured yours. Instead of the fierce desire he usually kissed you with, this time it was slow, gentle. And god his lips were soft and your heart rate skyrocketed at the love that showed through the way he pressed against you.

“Don’t make me kick your ass.”

The deep voice of your brother had you and Jungkook pushing away from each other like teenagers caught by their parents. And both of your necks snapped over to see Yoongi walking past the entryway to the sitting room. A teasing smirk was aimed your way as he continued on his path to the elevator.

“Mind your business!” Your shout was met with Yoongi’s high-pitched giggle.

                            Eighteen Hours Later

      Well, UpperEast Siders, did you enjoy the story? Because I sure did. Oh, and what’s this? Looks like not even a dark scandal can force Bangtan out of the light.

Laughter rang loud through the busy resturant and all eyes turned at the sound. But the seven of you paid no mind to the stares.

“A toast.” Jin stood in the middle of the half circle you all formed around the bar, a glass of bubbly champagne raised high. “To lifelong friendship.”

         Spotted: Manhattan’s King. But can he really be crowned royalty when his throne was built on the steps of family betrayal? I’d say just ask his brother, but, well, be careful or you might just disappear too.

“And,” Namjoon raised his own glass into the air, golden liquid catching the light. “To trust.”

          Oh, and what’s this? I wonder, how will our lovely God of Destruction talk his way out of jail time? Tell me, do they teach you how to get away with embezzlement in law school?

Hoseok’s dimples came out to play around his own bright smile. “Don’t forget loyalty.”

          It’s a surprise that Manhattan’s Sunshine is even able to stand underneath the weight of a dead body. And if the allegations are true? Well, stay away from drugs, kids.

“And love.” The addition came shyly from your lips as you gazed warmly up at the man to your side. Jungkook’s lips pressed fondly to your forehead.

            If anyone needs help passing their SAT’s, make sure to hit up our Golden Boy. Surely he’ll get you a passing grade if the price is high enough.

“To success.” Yoongi smiled and raised his glass in a salute, skin glowing.

            Can a Genius really be a genius if he has to buy his way to a degree? Someone’s money should have gone towards a tutor instead.

The sound of seven glasses clinking together overpowered the other voices in the room. “Here, here!”

             Everything appears to have gone back to normal ever since our resident Pretty Boy was outed as a little tattletale.

It was raining.

Water pelted the top of his umbrella, the soft plop-plop-plop blending into the noise of city life. People bustled around him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. No, instead his focus was rooted to one spot, one person who he could see through the glass windows of the resturant. One person who’s profile he would recognize anywhere.

He watched, silent, as the man threw his head back in laughter that ghosted his ears. And either he felt the stare burning into the side of his face, or he was expecting him to be there. Because with a turn of the neck, brown eyes met brown. And the tension was palpable on his tongue even through the walls that separated them.

             Out with the old and in with the new, that’s what I always say. Oh, and one last thing:

A haughty smirk turned up the corners of Taehyung’s lips and Jimin watched with narrowed eyes as the blond man raised his glass of champagne in a silent salute.

  You really shouldn’t trust everything you hear.

                                         xoxo,

                                    Gossip Girl