#out of a giffing drought for twice? it's more likely than you think

[rvsirene]

Mina x One Spark ♡

[yandere-is-my-life]

Yandere angel (eldrich?) x reader

Warning

yandere behavior, unhealthy mindset,

betrayal, ruse(?)

↑It's not my GIF

About Angel

They are an angel who protect around your village.

They have been worshiped with god by villagers.

Story

A long time ago, the period angels and demons still appeared on earth.

You lived in small rural village.

There was no strife and no devil.

Your parents died early by sick, you lived alone with farming.

One day, during your work, found a white bird.

He looks too weak and got hurt many places.

You took a pity and brought him your home.

At this rate he will die.

You aren't expert in medical, but you did your best.

Thanks to that, after the little bird got well, sang with joy and flew away in the sky.

…

One day, a drought occurred and the crops could not be harvested.

It was the worst than ever.

Some died of hunger or got a sick, some started fighting over food.

Like others, you were starving by hunger.

You are unwell and unable to work.

Never before have you felt so close to your own death.

…

It was another night.

As you were trying to sleep, felt something wrong.

Someone is in your room.

You wanted to open your eyes, but couldn't.

Even speaking out a word.

As if something was holding you down.

"Found you"

The voice sounded both male and female.

"My little favored, Everything will be okay. I'll save you."

At that time, You lost all strength and consciousness.

…

After that event, strangely, many crops became available in the village.

It was as if the famine up until now was a lie.

Everyone had more crops than ever before, and everyone could eat to their heart's content.

"God must have given us a mercy."

Everyone said in tongues.

You were happy too, but you were worried about the strange dream.

Who are they? And what are they?

You couldn't help but worry about this.

…

Another day, you had a dream.

A big presence is standing in front of you.

It was twice as tall as your height.

But you can't see them clearly.

"You are saved. You won't suffer under my protection"

That was the same person.

But you thought they were god or angel.

"T...thank you so much."

You were able to speak out for the first time.

"You deserve it. I did just treat for pure being."

They grabbed your hand.

Theirs were big and human-like and not human-like.

"You should be with me. We can live together at paradise."

It's a wonderful thing to be loved by god and angels.

At least everyone in your village think so.

But you felt like there was something hidden in the meaning of that word.

"I'm appreciate your order, but I am satisfied with my life."

You politely said not to mind them.

They held your right hand a little tighter and were silent for a while.

"I see. But please do not forget. I always wish your happiness."

Saying that, they disappeared.

…

Next day, you woke up and surprised.

There was a mark on your wrist that you had never seen before.

It must be their work.

You told elders about what happened to you.

As soon as they heard that and saw your mark, they praised you.

"Y/N L/N, We appoint you as a prayer. If you pray for everyone, we will be blessed by god."

From that day on your life changed.

And locked you in a church.

They ordered you not to go outside and to pray for everyone.

Perhaps the fear of famine remains strong.

You didn't know what was right, but you had to keep praying.

…

Village grew richer as if responding to it.

But that didn't change the way they treated you.

It's okay as long as you pray.

People started to think so.

They no longer saw you as a person.

Almost all regarded you as a useful tool.

Even your relatives and friends.

You sensed this from their demeanor.

Restricted life and their endless desires.

These situation steadily undermined your heart.

…

It was another night.

You were in an unknown place in your dream.

And in front of you, there is an Angel.

You immediately understood it was someone who had saved you before.

And you could see them clearly for the first time.

Also have large wings on their back,and black halo on their head.

His body was covered with a robe, face was hidden with shadows like abyss.

"Humans are foolish. They have become greedy."

Their words were filled with anger.

Not only that, sorrow too.

"I may not be allowed. But I swear it will not happen anymore."

And they held out their hand.

"Come with me, Y/N. You do not need to suffer anymore."

Before you would have refused.

But you were mentally trapped, and you wanted to be released from here as soon as possible.

Unconsciously, you were holding their hand.

Their hands were so warm, you felt nostalgic.

You felt warmth from someone you hadn't seen in a long time, and spontaneously burst into tears.

Looking that, Angel gently embraced you.

"At last you are mine. You cannot get away from me"

Back ground

That was when they were fatally wounded when fighting a strong demon.

They were too weak and unable to maintain original form.

So, their appearance changed to a white bird.

Badly, they didn't even have the strength to go back to heaven.

But luckily, they met you.

Moreover, your dedication saved their life.

It didn't take long time till the angel fell in love with you.

So even after they went back to heaven, couldn't forget you.

After their powers were fully restored over the years, they came back.

It was like a dream when they found you.

Also could save you from suffer.

They wanted to take you soon, but wanted to respect your will.

Despite that, they still couldn't give up.

They wanted you to love them and rely on them.

So, they left a mark as blessing.

This was also meant to strengthen the relationship.

But as a result, they ended up making you sad.

Foolish people who tried to take advantage of will be punished.

Angel feel sorry for it a little.

But in their hearts, they are glad that you rely on them.

No one knows if this behavior was negligent or intentional.

[sinful-karateka]

let me be a bit serious for a sec: i've been observing a couple of sentiments here about how there's a lack of binary boyfriends art in circulation with season 6 upon us and the show's foreseeable end. while i agree on that front, and as one of the fellow artists who started making art for the ship in the early aughts of the show (sketches, full rendered pieces, gifs -- you name it), i would like to emphasize that fanart is not meant to be a one-time piece of "content" that passes by our dashboards. they take time. they take energy. the next person you follow has a life you may not know anything about, and working on these pieces are labor of love.

if you find something that makes you feel a certain and positive way, let the creators know! again: fanart is not fleeting content. they can be evergreen content, but never seasonal. and most often than not, you'd see an artist share these pieces as a love letter to the ship itself first, then everyfan second.

i hope we think twice about this before calling out a recession or drought, because the last thing creators need is to feel like what we make is subjected to scrutinizing numbers until it gets lost in the muddied waters, when it's really meant to be discovered if people mean to look hard enough. they're pieces of history that deserve to exist for as long as this hellhole is still alive. these are products of their time today, and hopefully for the next groups over who will love the boys as much as we do now.

scroll through the main ship tag. travel to different ones, to different places. commission your artists and maybe find an honest middle ground if you can't compensate! or better yet, make one yourself you know you'd be proud of anyway!

and look, not every piece of art is for everyone, but if any piece isn't your drift, that's understandable -- you can silently that's very cool, like, reblog if you're even more generous, leave a few encouraging words, then move on.

i don't want this to come across as a sermon, but take it from a concerned fan to another who also wants to create and see stuff for these babies. you can't win them all, but your acknowledgement helps keep the ship and our craft alive.

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[slythergirlimagines]

I’ve Got you- hurt!Reader x Sokka

Thank you to @nataliahaslosthershit for the request! I hope I did it justice:) Masterlist

Summary: You and Sokka get into a fight that results in you getting kidnapped. Fluff and angst!!(Also the gif isn’t mine! I don’t know who made it but I definitely don’t own it!!)

I’ve Got You- Hurt!reader x Sokka

You never imagined that your life post-war would involve more war. Peace had not been quite as instant as everyone had hoped when Zuko became Firelord. Several rebel groups were organizing, and there had been at least one known assassination attempt against Zuko.

That’s when Zuko had put Sokka in charge of neutralizing Ozai’s loyalists, and because Sokka was your best friend, you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him.

Now you and Sokka were staking out a village thought to be rife with rebels, and you’d never been more miserable in your life. The heat was stifling and the village was going through a drought, so food and water had been limited. You couldn’t help but feel like this was a waste of time.

“Sokka nothing is happening. Clearly we got our intel wrong, we’ve been here for three days and nothing!” You threw your hands up exasperatedly.

Currently you were camping on the outskirts of the town, hidden by the dense forests. You’d been here for three days, checking things out and asking around. Though there were whispers of a rebel stronghold, you had yet to find any solid proof. It had been three days of absolute hell.

“Relax, y/n. We’ll find out something soon.” Sokka assures you.

He is sprawled out across his sleeping bag, his long limbs taking up a majority of the cramped space in the tent. After the war, Sokka had experienced an incredible growth spurt. He was now taller than his father, and it didn’t hurt that the rest of him had filled out too. Your best friend had serious muscles from training, and it was becoming impossible not to notice in this tiny, miserable excuse for a tent.

“Can you at least keep to your side!” You snap at him. You don’t really mind, but his flippant attitude and the fact that you hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days was really getting to you.

Sokka sits up on his sleeping back and arches an eyebrow. He studies you for a moment, and then rolls his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” You snap.

“You’re so touchy!” He says, crossing his arms. His sleeveless tunic gives you a very good look at his strong biceps.

“I’m not touchy, I’m right!” You say, voice increasing in volume. “You know I’m right Sokka. We’ve found absolutely no evidence of anyone conspiring against Zuko. We shouldn’t even be here right now. We should be at home, in real beds! We can reevaluate the situation from there.”

“Y/n I told you, my instincts are telling me....” he starts, but you cut him off with a frustrated groan.

“Your instincts?!” You all but shriek. “Sokka your instincts have been right a grand total of twice!”

You jump up off your sleeping bag, suddenly unable to sit still any longer. There’s barely enough room for you to stand without crouching. You have a very powerful urge to pace.

Sokka furiously jumps up as well, but the small height of the tent forces him to bend over.

“My instincts are right this time!” He says, jabbing a finger at your chest.

You scoff batting his finger away, and his face turns red from anger. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a fight as bad as this one, but you think maybe he’s also been ready to explode.

“If you’re so done with being here why don’t you just leave?” He shouts, getting in your face. You’re breathing the same air, and his blue eyes flash in defiance. “It’s not like I need you anyways!”

Even in your anger, the statement hurts. You decide to channel all that hurt into anger, you can be sad about it later.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll go, I should have never even come in the first place!” You seethe.

“Then why did you?” He throws his arms up.

“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt!” You yell back. “Because we’re a team and I always have your back! And mostly because you asked me to!”

Sokka’s hair has fallen out of its wolf tail, and the long pieces fall just past his ears. It accentuates the square of his jaw, the slight stubble that’s grown during their stakeout. It’s ridiculously attractive for no reason at all.

Sokka’s face flits through a multitude of expressions before he settles on indifference.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” He says. “I don’t need you here, so if you want to go just go! I don’t want you here.”

He turns his back to you, and his heavy breaths shake his shoulders.

This time you can’t keep the hurt out of your voice, and when you speak it’s watery with angry tears.

“Fine. I won’t bother you again.” You storm out of the tent and into the forest.

In your anger, you don’t really pay attention to where you’re going. Tears blur your vision, and rage guides your limbs. You swipe furiously at your tears. You will not cry over Sokka of all people.

But his words hurt you more than you thought they would. You were a team, and you had been that way since the beginning. Ever since you had joined the Gaang and found out that you an Sokka fought incredibly well together you had been inseparable. You had been through everything together, and you had always had each other’s backs. You had always needed each other.

Maybe Sokka was telling the truth. Maybe he needed space and you were smothering him, but he was all you really had in the world. You had no home or family to go back to, and the truth was you loved him.

Somehow in the midst of all the chaos, Sokka had wiggled his way into your heart and made a home there. You couldn’t imagine your life without him, and after the war when you had both stuck together, you had started to think maybe he felt the same way.

But now it was very clear that he didn’t. Maybe he asked you because he felt sorry for you, because he knew you had no where else to go. Of course that was it. You were just his charity case. How pathetic.

Your spiraling thoughts are broken by the snapping of a tree branch. You hate that you instantly think of Sokka.

“Sokka?” You ask into the darkness. You were foolish not to walk blindly into the woods. Why hadn’t you followed the road?

Blinking against the dark, you try to make out the owner of the sound. No one responds to your question, maybe you’re just being paranoid. Quickly, you start walking in the direction you think will lead you to the road. It’s incredibly dangerous to be out here alone.

Again, you hear a twig snap.

“Who’s there?” You demand, trying to sound braver than you are. Still there’s no reply. You turn to keep walking, and then you are ambushed.

Someone tackles you to the ground, and in the dark it’s impossible to make out more than just inky shapes.

You start fighting vigorously, but the person holding you down is much stronger than you are, and your efforts are futile.

“Let go of me.” You spit, not giving up. The man on top of you butts his head into yours, and you go limp. Colors dance in front of your eyes, and you’re too disoriented to fight.

“Alright, I got her. Let’s take her to the boss.” Someone hisses in the dark. It isn’t the man on top of you, so there has to be more of them. Even if you weren’t injured you couldn’t take all of them. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you realize Sokka’s instincts were right.

“Rebels.” You manage to wheeze out. Your adrenaline is starting to kick back in, and you think maybe if you distract them you’ll have a pretty good chance of running away.

A man chuckles in the dark.

“Bright isn’t she.” He says, sarcasm lacing his words. You’ll never get a chance to run with this man’s weight on you. You’ll have to let them start to move you. Make them think you are weak.

You let yourself go completely limp, and throw in a few whimpers for effect. The man on top of you leans in close enough for you to make out his sneer and smell his breath.

“I’ve got her.” The man says, and he moves his arms underneath you to lift you up. Fast as Zuko’s lightning, you knee him in the groin and roll out from under him.

You scramble away trying to will your aching muscles to move, but your head is pounding and your already limited vision grows blurry.

The man is back on you in no time, and this time when he tackles you, you pass out.

_________________________________

When you wake up, your head is pounding and your mouth is dry. Where are you? You move to get up and realize that you are tightly bound to a chair. You pull against the ropes and they saw into your skin, leaving behind welts.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A lilting voice says in the dark. “I am excellent at tying knots, you’ll never escape from them. It would be easier for us to just play nice.”

You blink against the dim light, and shakes start to come to life. In front of you stands a middle-aged man. He is tall and imposing in the enclosed space, and for the first time, you realize you are in a prison cell.

The man wears the deep red robes of Firenation, and of it wasn’t clear enough before, you know that you are now indeed dealing with Ozai loyalists.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, managing to sound calm despite the danger you are in.

The man smirks at you, and starts walking slowly around your chair. Your anxiety increases as he moves behind you and you lose sight of him. Your basic instincts scream not to let your enemy out of sight.

“You and your boyfriend have been asking a lot of questions.” His smile is razor sharp and dangerous. The hair on the back of you neck stands up as you start to calculate your chances of survival. And Sokka, he mentioned Sokka. Was he ok?

“Here’s what I want.” He says smoothly, watching your struggle. “All I want is for you to cooperate with me. There’s no need for me to harm you if you just comply.”

You feel something cold hit the side of your neck, and a chill runs down your spine when you realize it’s a knife.

“I don’t like to play games. I would really rather you be honest with me.” He warns.

You jut your chin out defiantly. You know he wants information about Zuko or Firenation. You won’t give him anything. You won’t let this idiot hurt your friends. You think about Sokka, alone in his tent and then freeze.

What if they found him, or hurt him? The man laughs at your facial expression.

“Not so brave now, are you?” He tuts. He moves around to face you, but continues to hold the knife to your neck. “Don’t worry we haven’t hurt your precious boyfriend. Yet. Do what I say and we won’t need to.”

You try to rationalize to yourself that he needs you alive for information. The weight of the blade digging into your neck seems to contradict that notion. Sokka’s face flashes in your mind, and you know you have to be brave for him. Hopefully he’ll get himself somewhere safe. He’s an excellent fighter, and it would be hard for them to take him. You know that’s why they chose you instead.

“Who are you?” The man asks, bringing you back to reality. “Who do you work for.”

“My name is Li, and I don’t work for anyone.” You say the practiced lie. You had stolen and adapted Zuko’s undercover personality as your own for these situations. Sokka preferred to be a different person every time, but it was easier for you to lie when you used the same one over and over.

The man studies your face for a long time, and then smacks you across the mouth, his baggy sleeves swing from the power of the blow.

“I told you to be honest with me!” He says. His black eyes are crazed. “If you’re not going to be honest, I’m going to have to hurt you.” He half sings.

“Tell me your name!” He says with more force.

Again you repeat the same lie.

The torture lasts for what seems like hours. The man finally leaves to take a break, leaving you sore and broken. You have a split lip, both your eyes are almost swollen shut, and you have bruises all over. You don’t think you were ever this banged up in the war.

“I’ll break her soon enough.” He tells someone outside, presumably a guard. You wait until you hear the cell door slide shut before you slump into your seat.

The pain is incredible, but you’re proud of yourself. You hadn’t given anything away, just maintained a forced silence. You hoped you would be able to keep this up. You briefly think about Sokka, but it’s too painful. He’ll be ok, you know he will. Eventually, you think he’ll come find you.

Just as you start to think about him, Sokka’s face swims before your eyes. He’s so real you could swear he’s really there.

“Y/n.” He whispers, reaching a hand out to stroke your face. He stops just before he touches you, and lets it drop. The horrified expression on hallucination Sokka’s face is so plain that you can see it through your blurred vision.

“Sokka...so real...” you manage to grunt out. There’s so much you want to tell him, apologies and confessions fly to your lips but you don’t have the energy to say anything except a mumbled “sorry.”

“Y/n, I’m here. I’m here and I’m getting you out.” He whispers. You smile the best you can despite your injuries, and stare into his intense blue eyes. If Sokka were here, this is the exact face he would be making. You’d seen it so many times that you’d recreated it perfectly. You were really impressed with hallucination Sokka and your ability to conjure him up.

At least you got to see him again, because right now it feels like you’re going to die in this cell. Hallucination Sokka starts on your bonds, and you can almost feel the rope grinding against your skin. No, no wait, the ropes are most definitely falling away from your wrists. That must mean...

“Sokka??” You ask, tears in your eyes.

He pops back up in front of you, and you swear you’ve never seen a more perfect sight. His dark skin and blue eyes, his strong build. Sokka has always made you feel safe, and it holds true even here.

Sokka reaches a large hand up to cradle your face, and when he touches your skin, you can feel it’s warmth. He’s here, he’s really here. You chant it like a mantra over and over again in your head.

“I told you I’ve got you.” He says. “I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s probably going to hurt. I’m going to have to carry you.”

His voice is strained like it always is when he’s trying not to show his emotions. You nod, trying your best to be brave. You trust Sokka, and he’s here. He’s got you.

Sokka leans down and shifts his arms underneath your body. He lifts you up in a smooth motion, and cradles your against his hard chest. The jostling causes searing pain to tear through your limbs, and you cry out before you can help it.

“I’m sorry!” Sokka cries, wincing at your pain. “I promise it’ll be over soon.” He mumbles into your hair. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, and then he’s running.

Sokka meets little resistance when he leaves, and you’d like to ask but the pain is too much. You can feel the change when you get outside. There’s a breeze blowing, and it wraps around you in a soothing way. You never thought wind could be such a relief.

Sokka continues to run for an incalculable amount of time. The rough terrain of the forest does you no favors, and by the time Sokka slows down, you’re in so much pain you can barely see straight. There’s some sort of commotion, and you can hear people shouting in the distance.

“I need a healer!” You hear Sokka yell.

Everything is too much for you, and your head lolls back.

“Y/n!” Sokka yells, panicked. “Stay with me, y/n! Don’t-”

Everything goes dark before you can hear the rest.

———————————————-

It’s too bright when you wake up. Everything hurts, but you can move this time at least. Anxiety shoots through you when you remember what happened.

“Sokka!” Your voice cracks, and you groan. “Sokka?” You squeeze your eyes shut against the light. Man your head hurts.

“I’m here!” His voice is gruff, but flooded with relief. You feel a squeeze around your hand, and realize that he’s been holding it the entire time.

You pry your eyes open, and blink against the light. Your eyes find his blue one, and they’re filled with worry and emotions you can’t really name but they make your stomach flip all the same.

“You look like shit.” You tell him. And he does. You’d be shocked if Sokka has slept at all since you came here.

“I look like shit?” He says, and laughs humorlessly. “Y/n, you’ve been tortured within an inch of your life and it’s all my fault.” He says, and you can hear the anger in his low voice, but you know it isn’t at you.

“Sokka...”

“No, just don’t y/n.” He says, voice shaky. He drops his head into his hands.

“Sokka, seriously-”

“I didn’t mean it.” He says suddenly, urgently. His head snaps up and his blue eyes bore into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “None of it. I’m so sorry that I’m such an idiot, y/n.”

“Sokka.”

“I do need you. I need you more than anyone in my life, and when you aren’t there it’s horrible. I never want to be away from you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and seeing you there in that cell all bloody, Ive never been more angry in my life. I should have killed him. No,” he says shaking his head, jaw locked, “I would have killed him. If I hadn’t had to get you out....”

Unsure of what to do to make him feel better, you grab one of his hands, bringing it to your face.

“Sokka, you got me out. You saved me. I’m here because of you.” Emotion floods your voice, and it seems to do the trick, because all of his anger deflates.

“I never should have said those things.” He says.

“I said some pretty mean stuff too. Especially about your instincts, which were both right and saved my life.” You say, giving the hand on your face a squeeze.

Sokka laughs lowly. It’s a small sound, but it’s something. It makes your body tingle.

“I mean it, you know. What I said. You’re the most important person in my life, y/n. You know how I am with stuff like this, how I always mess it up, but when I saw you in that cell....” he trails off, and then shakes his head.

“I love you.” You say, and it shocks you how easily it comes out of your mouth. “I love you, Sokka. I need you too.”

Sokka’s whole face lights up, and you watch as his eyes soften. He breaks into a crooked grin, and laughs a little breathlessly.

“You love me?” He asks, in awe.

“Yes you idiot.” You laugh, and then wince when the effort strains your muscles.

“I love you too.” He says, face resolute. Then he bends down, and places the gentlest of kisses on your lips. It’s feather light, almost teasing.

“Sokka!” You groan when he pulls back. “Give me a real kiss.” You demand, pouting.

Sokka laughs and shakes his head.

“Not until that lip is healed. Then you’ll find out how a real man kisses.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I don’t want to kiss a real man, I want to kiss you!” You exclaim.

Sokka puts his free hand on his chest.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I am a very real man.” He says, puffing out his chest.

The sounds of your laughter coalesces, and you both stare at each other with warm eyes. Here with Sokka, everything feels right again.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed reading! Check out my other writing under my tag slythergirlimagines. I take requests for multiple fandoms and I also do Hogwarts House Sortings. Swing by my blog to check everything out, and don’t be afraid to request:) My asks/messages are always open. Also I am working on “Just Us and Some Hugging” Part 2, and my other requests so keep an eye out this week!

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

(Note, if this post shows up twice or massively delayed or just looks weird, it’s because it was flagged for adult content [??!] because I had a picture of Willem Dafoe’s face in a gif. I am not even kidding. Do with that information what you will. I’ve removed it and I still don’t know if/when this can be publicly viewed, I’m kind of lolling. So if you see a blocked out photo that looks like porn in your post, I swear it’s just a gif from The Lighthouse!)

Hello, amazing people. This weekend, I’m putting the final touches on my last draft of Baghdad Waltz Chapter 39, which will then go to the beta for one more round of edits. I imagine I will have the chapter posted in 1-3 weeks, which is close to record speed for me, especially since it’s around 30k words. I’m going to be talking about my writing process (at unfortunate length) for one of the asks, for those who are interested. 

Please forgive me. I’m feeling quite verbose and a little squirrely. I blame living alone during lockdown. 

It’s also Memorial Day weekend in the States, which is when we are meant to honor those who gave their lives in military service to this country. This is often confused with Veterans Day (November 11), which is honoring anyone who has served in the military and is no longer serving. This gets further confused with Armed Forces Day (rotating date, May) which is to honor those currently serving in the military. I know, super confusing. 

There’s a wide range of opinions on how Memorial Day should be commemorated, which often involves gathering with friends and family for a barbecue or some other social activity. It’s the first major holiday after a huge holiday drought throughout the late winter and spring, which often makes people look forward to it immensely. Some people feel it’s inappropriate to celebrate Memorial Day with barbecues and fond social gatherings because it’s dishonoring the memories of those who can’t be here, people don’t take time to remember those who have died, people have no idea what the day is actually for, etc. Others, even some very vocal veterans, maintain that people died so that we could be here to celebrate in freedom, so why not relish this life we have? Many offer the caveat that it’s appropriate to at least acknowledge the purpose of the day, even if it’s just in a few minutes of quiet reflection. 

Anyway, I offer this as a little food for thought for this upcoming long weekend. 

(And in case you missed it, I posted a BW Timeline for your reference.) 

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

I’m so glad that you are enjoying the read and that you’re finding it inspiring for your own work. I think my dedication to research for BW is threefold. 1) As this story evolved, I decided that I wanted to create the most realistic depictions of military, civilian, emotional, and physical life that I reasonably could. I will fully admit to lapses in this, deliberate and unintentional, because sometimes the plot just needs to go and I can’t wait around for a year-long medical discharge process for my character. 2) I’m in an academically stringent occupation, and because research is such a prominent part of my work life, it’s bled to my hobby. (IS THIS EVEN A HOBBY ANYMORE?) And 3) I get very easily and passionately obsessed with things and delight in getting “into the weeds” with a subject. Almost every research divergence usually takes me off track for at least an hour. And you will never catch me without an MTA subway map open in at least one tab.

But that wasn’t even your question! Sorry. Are you beginning to get a sense of why BW takes me so long to write?? I cannot keep my shit on track. As for the bibliography, YES! I plan to include that in my author’s note at the end. I wish I had kept better track of all of my works consulted over the past three years, but I will definitely discuss the importance of some of the main ones. I’m so thrilled that you are interested, and I’m excited to share them!

Thank you. This is such a kind thing to say, and I’m humbled and delighted to hear it, especially because our fandom is so blessed with some AMAZING fics. And asks certainly don’t have to be questions! I appreciate them all (except the flaming bag of dog shit ones, which I haven’t had in a while, hooray).

(Re: Chapter 37) Good question! I imagine Claire would want to keep the 1:1 conversation somewhat limited, as she is treating the couple as a patient rather than them as individuals. If anything, she might have somewhat superficially checked in to see if he was okay rather than dive into anything regarding the relationship with Bucky not around. That could be seen as a betrayal of trust to Bucky and could be interpreted as favoritism, which Steve craves and which Bucky is probably terrified about.

I am always pleased when people re-read and enjoy it or get new things out of it, even if it’s sometimes a re-read is a function of my slow-ass writing. I really want a story with good re-read value.

You make an excellent point about Bucky’s relationships. His friendship with Jack also had no real closure. Sometimes this is a factor of circumstance and sometimes it’s because of his avoidance, like a self-fulfilling prophesy almost. He’s learned that people betray you, either by hurting you or dying, so he creates conditions sometimes (often unwittingly) for things to go sour and end poorly, or he will simply make himself disappear so that he’s not hurt and doesn’t have to wait to see if he will be abandoned or betrayed. He’s not a guy who is good with goodbyes.

As for Thor, I totally see how it would read that way. I think Thor started out fishing for longer-term possibilities in a romantic relationship but then realized Bucky is really not a guy who is comfortable settling (which, as we can see, is true). As for why it seems more serious, one thing is that Thor still wanted Bucky in his life as a friend, possibly one with benefits. They have a lot in common, and it’s hard for veterans - and, more specifically, special operators - to find people in their lives they can relate to with these very intense life experiences. I wanted this to be a real relationship, but maybe not necessarily one that was bound to become a RELATIONSHIP. I think Bucky was very intriguing and attractive to him, and he very well may have struggled with his own vacillation between whether to take it seriously or whether to remain friends+. This can lead to mixed messages.

And we also have to remember Bucky’s notoriously unreliable narration, where he will see what he wants to see. Our perspective comes from him. We see the details he zooms in on, miss the one he ignores, view the relationship through the lens of his own contentious desire for a real relationship, even as he consistently demonstrates the lack of capacity and his fear about getting serious. I imagine Bucky has having an extremely poor ability to distinguish friendship from romance, and why wouldn’t he, given the most recent bit of history we have learned about him with Jack? He’s had a series of friendships become sexualized, and I think this affects his capacity to be discerning. Bucky’s radar for relating, whether friendships, romance, or potentially dangerous sexual situations, is terribly mis-calibrated. How confusing for him and for the people in his life. Of course, everyone is free to interpret the dynamics of any relationship however they choose. These are just some of my thoughts.

I really appreciate observations from the re-read! Thank you!

I watched the video and you are right! This is definitely a Bucky song. Bucky’s sense of self is by turns profoundly distorted and lacking in grounding, especially now that he’s not in the military. He’s been in a low key existential crisis since he was a kid and has turned to drinking and sex and war to fill this horrible void, and although I can’t speak for what the artists here intended, I certainly sensed those elements here for sure. (Also, what an interesting choice for a music video…)

Thank you for sharing! I’ll add it to the unofficial BW playlist in the author’s note, which consists of various songs people have associated with BW and shared with me.

Good question! I started off this story picturing the actors who represent the characters in the MCU, because I figured we’d be picturing that when we read the fic anyway (though my beta told me she doesn’t see them as the actors, more like artists’ renderings of the characters, which I find interesting). So when describing their physicality, I tend to refer back to the MCU, since this is technically an MCU AU. But the longer I go with the story, the murkier the resemblance feels to me, especially when I think about Bucky, IDK why. I have also been considering doing something more with BW after I finish it (i.e., converting it into a proper not-bajillion-word novel, sunk cost and whatnot), in which case I would definitely change the characters’ appearance, names, cut MCU Easter eggs, etc. So when I try to think of who these people might be in future iterations of the story, things get even more blurred in my mind when I imagine them.

I wonder how other people see them??

So, with regards to PTSD clinical teams, there is some variation across VAs in the system. Some focus more on military-related trauma, whether it’s war, military sexual trauma, accidents, etc. as a way of concentrating their services and managing supply and demand. From talking with providers in these kinds of systems, sometimes you just NEED a military-related trauma, but you can be treated for, say, a childhood trauma if it’s more pressing. Other VAs are very open in their criteria, and you can see them for pretty much any kind of trauma that qualifies diagnostically for PTSD (or sub-threshold PTSD) without question. That’s why I love the expression “If you’ve been to one VA, you’ve been to one VA.” That said, it kind of doesn’t matter what kind of PTSD clinical team is at the VA in Manhattan, because Bucky has so much military trauma that he would very likely qualify to receive services in any PTSD clinical team. They just might focus on childhood stuff (if Bucky actually let them, which is another matter entirely).

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

I love a snarky asshole Bucky so much, and I’ve tried to temper this version of him with enough hard-earned genuineness to offset it a little bit. It’s such a tender balance with him, because if you back him too far into a corner, he’s going to let you have it. But if you give him too much space, it’s hard to pin him down and wring something honest from him. He’s definitely learned to use humor and sarcasm to deflect from painful or uncomfortable situations, and it’s a very adaptive short-term strategy that makes him both endearing and infuriating to others.

But ugh, yeah, shit gets so rough around Chapter 28/29. I don’t know how to feel when people have really strong emotional reactions to this story, because one part of me doesn’t want to contribute to the crappy feelings people may already be struggling with — especially in the times of COVID — but I don’t want to be afraid to dive into the hurt these characters are experiencing. That’s why I recommend checking in with oneself before reading to get a sense of how much emotional bandwidth is available to manage the immense problems of two people struggling so much. I also think that for some people it can be cathartic or otherwise not-bad maybe (?), based on the feedback I’ve received. I also really try hard to balance out the painful stuff with growth, even though it can be terribly difficult to locate sometimes.

In comments to folks, and here, I often talk about adjusting the ticks on your measuring stick for progress, where instead of leaps of progress over feet/meters, we may be observing things on an inch/mm scale. This story is my most sincere effort at a “recovery is not linear” narrative, which I think is so much more reflective of real life for a lot of folks than a straight upward trajectory. Humans are such creatures of habit, and the lessons these characters have learned through their lives about themselves, trust, relationships, and how to manage emotions are very deeply ingrained — often through traumatic means. These are the lessons learned the hardest, with the greatest perceived consequences for change, and it takes real courage for us to be able to try new things even once, let alone to establish a reliable pattern of behavior. This can lead to a lot of frustration for us as readers/writer, and I come from a place of this being okay, because we are encountering a parallel process with the characters, who are frustrated with each other and themselves about the same things. I do hope the pain/progress/joy ratios are not horribly out of whack most of the time. That’s another reason I like long chapters, because if this was just blips of sometimes terrible episodes in shorter form, I think it would be very challenging to not lose hope entirely.

But I’m so glad you’re finding the read meaningful, even if it’s sometimes painful and difficult.

(YES.)

And FINALLY -- (this is all soooo long, I’m so sorry.)

Oh, thank you for this question! My spreadsheet ended up getting too difficult to manage, and I actually had a small crisis six months ago about how the fic was going to end, because it just didn’t feel right. I had to scrap it and go back to the drawing board and really ask myself - what would these characters really do? Naturally, as a factor of their psychologies and circumstances, how will they bring this story to an end? Some advice I once heard about a “satisfying” ending is that it’s the place where there’s simply nothing more to say about the characters. There’s no more story to tell. I had to abandon all of my desires  and ideas for a particular ending or concerns about making people sad or happy or excited or disappointed. I know that the only ending that will be satisfying is one that makes sense for these people. Anything contrived or backward-engineer-y wouldn’t feel right to anyone. I do have a couple of specific character arc things I want to happen, so I set those down as touchstones and said, okay, what would happen next? What would Steve do with this? And what would Bucky do with this? And what would they do with the thing the other person did? I take a very psychology and prior-behavior-based approach to plotting, almost all character driven. The rest is just figuring out what is supposed to go where and how to organize it.

I’ve converted everything to a Google Doc and have a very basic outline where I write plotty-plot stuff. I also have a “garbage dump” doc where I write certain lines I want to use or certain details I want to include somewhere. When I get into a new chapter, I’ll check the dump doc as I outline and write to see if I want to pluck anything from there. I have my outline open regularly to add to it. Sometimes I write scenes out of order, dialogue first, but that’s only if I really am excited about a particular scene and cannot contain myself. Otherwise, I write completely chronologically and have no buffer. I post things as soon as I write them.

As for your specific questions, I do have a “process” for getting into my characters’ heads. It helps to know them so very well and to have a firm sense of their idiosyncrasies and patterns of behavior. As you may have noticed, they repeat their patterns all. the. time, as humans do, but I also want to have them change their behaviors a little as things go and they progress. So I may wonder what they could do a little differently, why they would WANT to behave differently, and imagine what they would need to do to change their behavior. Do they need to take breaths? Do they remember the last time some shit went down? I really try to think of the “how” and “why” of every single action - from big blowouts to eye rolls.

So once I’ve figured out what they are going to do, I try to pinpoint the associated emotions I want to highlight. This is a whole separate process, because I have to think also about their internal versus their external emotional states. Steve, for example, will often have a discrepant inside and outside, because one of the truths about his character is that he is a chronic suppressor. There is also the issue of unreliable narration and interpretation of behavior. Steve might do something in a scene, but that doesn’t mean Bucky is going to interpret it the way it was intended. I have to think about their individual filters, which often reflect their internal beliefs about themselves. Bucky is more likely to read Steve’s actions as reflections of how BUCKY feels about HIMSELF (e.g., he’s disgusted by me because I’m disgusting) rather than imagine what Steve is really thinking based on his own experiences and beliefs about Bucky. I also attempt to convey some of the more second and third layer emotions that people have in situations, rather than only highlighting the primary emotion. Sad things don’t always just make people sad. Powerful emotions, for example, might make Steve feel out of control of himself, which could generate secondary emotions for him like frustration because he’s losing control. Part of the process in the construction of the narrative is also scrubbing what I’ve written for POV, because Bucky’s word choices aren’t the same as Steve’s, and in order to try to preserve the “voice” of each character, I often have to change the words I’ve opted to use, as well as the syntax.

So, as you can see, there’s a lot of layering that is happening all the time. As for the dialogue, I have no compunction about saying the lines aloud, “acting” them to see how they sound, to get a sense of what tone I want them to say things in. Now that I think of it, I do a bit of movement-based stuff, thinking about how people sit and stand, figuring how many steps it takes to get from A-Z, what it would look like to lean against something, how it would feel on the body, etc. I try to get the most felt sense of things as I can. If I’m imagining a scene, I try to put myself in the shoes of the characters to the point where I feel the emotions, just so I can know how it reflects in my body and my mind and behavior. I have more than once gotten drunk and drunk-written drunk Bucky then gone to clean it up later, as drunk writing can generate some great content I never would have been able to come up with sober, but the form, grammar, spelling, etc. is often rubbish. I also talk a LOT to my beta about all of this stuff, and I have certain friends and acquaintances in the fandom who are my consultants for various things.

So, I’m somewhat method I guess?? Is that a thing?? I dunno. It’s not hard to do when you live and breathe a story. It’s required a deep level of interest in - quite possibly an obsession with - the characters and their lives. I adore my characters, not in a self-congratulatory way, but because they feel so real to me. So it’s a joy to plan and write -- though I do hate first drafts with a passion.

OH - I also sometimes fast-draft chapters, which I did for 39. That is, write as FAST AS YOU CAN with no regard for how shitty the writing is. I wrote 10k words in a week, which was a finished fast-draft for me, and thus I had a very good felt sense of what was going to happen in the chapter, which felt amazing. It requires intensive outlining before, and nearly every word had to be rewritten, but one of the greatest frustrations of a story for me is having blank space ahead. Re-writing is way more fun than first draft writing. I have fluffed it up twofold with higher quality content, which I did all in less than two months…!! 

-------------------------

Well, this is surely my most unnecessarily yammering YAIT in history. But I hope it at least conveys my enthusiasm for these wonderful asks! It’s so lovely to hear from all of you, even if I take an eon to get back to you. Hang in there, everyone!

@grimshady @hutchhitched​ @b0n3l3ssm1lk​ 

(And thank you to @bae-buckyaboveeverything​ for the shout out. You made my day<3)

[whitestopper]

K-Pop wishes for 2022 (wishes specific to groups underneath)

- songs that don’t need raps not having raps

- raps being good or fun

- minimal English lyrics, or at least English lyrics that make sense and don’t just ‘allude’ to something

- fun choreography (think Hula Hoop and intro to Likey)

- cute/upbeat/quirky concepts that aren’t sexualised

- outfit colour coordination

- long shorts and skirts

- REALLY long skirts/dresses and trousers

- stop having weird bleaches, either have hair be one solid colour or have a good ombré

- basically more clothes that actually cover safety shorts rather than have them incorporated into the whole design. This includes crotchless trousers, an assault on my eyes tbh. I was very accepting of Heejin having cloth but crotchless trousers.... no.

- less people debuting in their 10s; 19s are acceptable but I’m side-eyeing companies who get younger people to join

- let’s just..... not use other cultures as a concept..... k......

- only the best for Fatou of BlackSwan xxxxxxx

- TWICE raps on the same level as Likey and What Is Love

- Dahyun singing, she can!

- also I want TWICE to have a long break tbh :/ I don’t even listen to all of their title tracks but I feel exhausted just hearing about them

- Dreamcatcher first win please

- LOONA members actually appearing in the same frame without it being a dance scene in MVs (the lore is all about how they’re stronger together, why are you seperating them-)

- two LOONA comebacks

- Hula Hoop!LOONA, persevere

- new LOONA subunits (not 1/3 OEC and yyxy though) (also no putting ViVi, Go Won or Olivia Hye in the same subunit) (or ViVi and Yeojin)

- okay, this was year was kind on my Heejin fatigue but please can we also have less of a ViVi and Go Won drought

- two fromis_9 comebacks

- maintaining upbeat fromis_9 (you are on thin fucking ice, Midnight Guest)

- please can BP just figure out what’s going on?? *gif of muddy kermit being poked at with stick*

- OnlyOneOf’s japanese versions to not have too much English (or at least have English that rhymes)

- leave Yuna and Jiheon alone @ directors/producers, stylists, ‘fans’

- Itzy, I promise I liked Icy and Dalla Dalla on the first go.... please comeback from the war

[juliehvidborre]

What will the future bring? 

The earth is falling apart and we are fighting for our life. Try to imagine the reactions all over the world when NASA is announcing that they are in contact with creatures from another planet.

The animation is a gif from Tumblr

Let’s take this scenario into consideration 50 years from now. Imagine that we will have years of drought lasting for months as the heatwave Europe is facing at the moment. In February 2018, The Guardian reported, that findings from Newcastle University study showed extremely high risk of damaging weather changes. By analyzing changes in flooding, droughts and heatwaves for European cities the reach-team discovered that: “[...] even the most optimistic case showed 85% of UK cities with a river, including London, would face increased flooding.” They found these future threats by looking at the impact by the years 2015-2100. This means that we not only will be facing heatwaves, but the water level will also increase. Furthermore this will have an impact on the relocation of the world’s population and an unbelievable damage to the agriculture around the world. The report “Climate Impacts on Agriculture and Food Supply” by U.S Environmental Protection Agency, explains how the destruction of agriculture around the world will forsake that the search for food and drinkable water will increase because of the limited access to these resources. The fact is that we need to understand these limitations and try to focus on solutions before it is way more out of control than it is today. As The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, IPCC, report we need to face the consequences for disaster risk:  “[...] changes in the frequency and severity of the physical events affect disaster risk, but so do the spatially diverse and temporally dynamic patterns of exposure and vulnerability. Some types of extreme weather and climate events have increased in frequency or magnitude, but populations and assets at risk have also increased, with consequences for disaster risk.” Not only do IPCC inform us about the coming climate changes they also involve us in the solutions for how we can try to manage the situation.

All these above mentioned climate facts, how I physically see the weather chances, and my awareness of how to behave, makes me click on the pause botton and let my thoughts run freely. The first thought which comes to my mind is: “Maybe our only hope is to safe our existence on another planet?”

Credit for the picture to Room on Flickr


Do you think this seems unrelatable? Actually, I just realized on a tour to NASA’s Reach Center in Silicon Valley that NASA regularly discover planets the sizes of the earth in our Galaxy. They still investigate these planets, to find out if they consist of life given resources as water. “Who knows, maybe life in space are closer than we think?”

Do you still think it all sounds like a science-fiction plot and you can’t really relate. I hope you will stop and think twice. What I have created as a scenario is reality for a lot of people around the world and a process we have gone through for ages. Even though all these reflections upon the galaxy and a horrible future caused by the climate changes may seem a little far out there is actually a connection to nowadays. My thoughts lead me to think how we wanted to be welcomed if we were in a deadly situation. Refugees around the world are comfronting these problems every day and so are the resourceful countries.

First of all I created this scenario about traveling to another planet because I think it is a future reality. We may not search for a safe place to stay because of war, but as the technical reports indicate I believe we are going to face a future with a world full of climate refuges. Beside that we have to bare in mind how we everyday become more and more specialized in investigating and discovering space which influences our future possibilities. Maybe it won’t be a real deal for my generation but for further generations I have no doubt it will. Furthermore I wanted to push the thoughts about the current refuge crisis to the extreme. I think that citizens in Europe, in fact all over the world, tend to become blind when they have to handle a situation where people are forced away from their homes and searching for ways to survive.

The current situation in Denmark had made a massive impression on me because I daily witness how refuges are suffering. I know that there are many layers of this situation e.g. the way we handle the economy, however that isn’t my focus here. What I’m focusing on is the social perspective. For making a link between the far away space scenario and the current refuge crisis I want to spread awareness of how small steps can lead to understanding and create a brighter future. I think we will come far if we start with being openminded and take responsibility. After long lasting conversations with especially my grandparents, but also other people, who aren’t that familiar with foreigners, I started realizing what a major impact the first meeting have. How we through the first smile and contact can make a world different. I know the first step can be a little threatening and the fear of lack in communication can create concerns, but as I have experienced willingness and sign language can take us far. In fact the outcome of approach can give you so much in return. As far as my travel experiences have showed me by communicating with hundreds of people from around the world, we all share a lot of similarities. One gift we especially have in common is the need of social interaction. UCLA neuroscientist explains it as “[...] social connection is as important as food and shelter.” in the book “Social: Why Our Brains Are Wired To Connect”. For me personally I hardly find experiences more interesting than exploring a new culture. Interacting with people from different cultures is like opening a window into a new world where different history and surroundings have created other ways of thinking. Not only can these meetings provide understanding and awareness they can also inspire us and challenge the way we think. All you need is to make the first move.

Credit for the picture to JIhopgood on Flickr

If we ever face a climate change escape through space I hope we will meet some welcoming creatures with whom we have at least something in common with. As long as we are openminded our foundation for interaction is laid.

I will continue my reflections and I hope you are willing to share yours. Another perspective of the scenario which could lead to endless talks for instance “How shall we behave when we discover a livable planet - even though we are panicking and looking for resources to survive?” I won’t add any comments on that but feel free to comment here if you are open to discuss.

 Warmly, Julie

[goddamnitkastle]

You Say Go Slow

So I’m in a bit of a creative drought. I’ll be writing for the time being cause these two kids won’t leave me alone but I don’t have it within me right now to make edits and gifs.

A thank you to Time After Time (specifically Quietdrive’s cover) for 1. Getting stuck in my head and 2. For inspiring this.

Enjoy :)

“Wait.”

Karen has a page in mid flip when she looks up. His finger is tapping away and she can see that he's still putting the pieces together. His jaw clenches. She thinks this is it, that he won't want to hear anymore. She starts to panic, maybe everything she has found and observed he already knew and noted. He said it himself: he'd been through everything a hundred times.

“Go slow.”

She nods, puts the paper down and repeats it again. She asks him questions, checks in to make sure he's okay.

He doesn't stop her again.

...

The clock at Nelson and Murdock was always for show. There's a saying that a clock is right twice a day but this clock was an exception. Every time she ever looked at it the time was never right. It was also useless, it didn't help Matt and herself and Foggy were prone to checking their phones. She'd been meaning to get around to changing the battery but it never came up. Eventually the minute hand permanently hung on the six. As she sat in Ben's... her office she thought about bringing it in. She probably wouldn't fix it but she wanted it to live on. Have another home, a second chance. She shoots a text to Foggy.

Hey sorry I threw everything away :/ Also the battery part was ripped out it would've been useless.

She knows it's fucking irrational to get upset over a broken clock but her throat tightens up anyway.

...

The GWB can go suck it.

It had been worth the drive to Jersey though, the tip was invaluable and Karen was ready to write the damn article.

She sits behind a truck, a classic rock station playing some 80's song. She turned it on initially to drown the engines out. Unfortunately the cacophony of sounds was drilling a hole in her head. She rubs her eyes and hits the dashboard.

You're a shining star No matter where you are...

She sucks in a breath and slams the volume dial. She's met with a car horn.

...

He leaves her on that bench, heading off to who knows where with what she has found for him. Time moves slowly after that meeting, Ellison keeps asking what's going on. She knows she can't live like this, restlessness running through her as she waits for him to contact her again. It's all she does anymore, wait. Waits for Frank to text her again. Wait for Ben to call, telling her to get out of his office and go find an empty one close by. Wait for Matt to come back, perfectly okay despite a building collapsing on top of him. For Kevin, to unsnap his neck and ask what he's missed.

She's on the couch when her phone buzzes.

Your boss is texting me, he thinks you've been replaced by a zombie. What's going on?

Foggy never fails in putting a smile on her face. It's a sensation she hasn't been experiencing lately she realizes.

We should probably talk. Josie's?

Nah I'll come over. Liquor cabinet stocked?

When is it not?

She places her phone on the coffee table, gets up to clear her files off the island.

...

When he dreams, she's there now.

Far away but he can pick her out every time. It'd be damn hard to miss her with that blonde hair.

She’s always walking somewhere and he's always trying to catch up. He keeps asking her to go slow, in the way he asked that time they went through those Blacksmith files. But she never stops. She gradually gets farther away until she is nothing more than a speck, a blur of blonde and black in a faceless crowd.

He wakes to rain smacking on the window. The stove light is harsh and yellow as he scoops coffee into a mug. This'll be the third sleepless night this week. Something inside himself says to call but he will ignore it. He has to, for her sake.

...

He's dabbing at a cut on her cheek.

“Looks like you won't need stitches.” He observes.

The question she wants to ask is stinging fiercer than her cheek. The answer is there but she needs to hear it.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Don't.”

“Why not Frank?”

“Cause I may not be there next time. Don't think cause we're talking again you can go and... and...”

His eyes don't meet hers, instead he bores them into the wall behind her couch.

“I'll be more careful next time.”

He turns his head. He still won't meet her eyes, he's fixated on her cheek. Everything about him is lethal. A grim reaper full of pain, it turns her blood cold.

“I have to go.”

She doesn't stop him. She never could. She falls behind, watches him go again. It'll never matter, anything that she says to him. The sooner she accepts that the better off she'll be.

...

A week later and she's in a diner with him.

Transcripts strewn between lukewarm coffee and consumed breakfast platters.

“I don't believe this.” she whispers. Her heart is in her throat. She can feel that soul searing stare of his but she doesn't dare to look up.

“You read this?”

“Yeah. Is it true?”

“It is.”

Ben once referred to her "past activities". She knew they'd come back with a ruthless vengeance. She hoped she'd be somewhere farther away when the time came. Or dead. Whichever came first.

“Okay. This is gonna be a shitstorm. But I want to hear it from you. Your side.” He waves at the waitress, who comes by and refills their mugs.

“What?”

They're locking eyes and she could almost cry. He's determined, already coming up with a plan. 

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning Page. Just... go slow.”

[allofbeercom]

Wanna Pull Water Out of Air? Grab Some Ions or a Weird Sponge

Find yourself adrift at sea, surrounded by undrinkable water, and you will parch to death. Find yourself lost in a desert and you will meet the same fate, also surrounded by water, also undrinkable. That’s because, even in the driest of lands, the air is loaded with water molecules—they just won’t do you any good.

Devices exist that can pull that water out of the air and convert it into liquid, but they are bulky and use a lot of energy. A pair of studies out today in Science Advances, however, describe clever technologies that could suck water right out of the air, one using zero energy and the other using very little. The techniques won’t quench the collective thirst of humanity, but they’ve got serious potential to help us augment water supplies in particularly dry places, especially as climate change wreaks its havoc.

The first technology isn’t a new concept, but a supercharged version of of an old one: fog collection. Fog is just a cloud of tiny, innumerable droplets of water. Collect enough of those droplets and you can get yourself a glass of water. In Chile, for instance, fine nets capture fog and funnel it into pipes for drinking and even beer-making.

Great, but not as great as it could be. “The efficiency of these sort of passive fog collectors is on the order of anywhere between 1 and 2 percent, it's extremely poor,” says MIT mechanical engineer Kripa Varanasi, coauthor of one of the new papers. When foggy wind passes through your typical netting, most of it flows through the holes between the strands. That means it takes a long time for enough water droplets to smack into the strands and accumulate there. So just make a finer net, right? Nope—the wind just tries to go around it.

What you really want is for the water droplets to be attracted to the mesh. To do that, Varanasi turned to electric fields. In the lab, he propelled a stream of fog through an ion emitter, which in this case produces charged air atoms. “As these ions are moving forward, they get intercepted by the droplets, and the droplets get charged,” Varanasi says.

These ionized droplets are positively ga-ga for the mesh collector. Take a look at the GIF below. It starts off with fog flowing like normal, but once the ion emitter switches on, the fog can’t escape the collector. The effect is so powerful, water droplets that do make it through the mesh then make a U-turn and come right back for it, resulting in an efficiency of 99 percent. The trapped fog then drips as liquid water into a glass below.

Varanasi Research Group at MIT

Are you listening, San Francisco? Theoretically, any region with a healthy supply of fog could deploy nets and ion emitters, which may run at high voltage but actually draw a small current. In the lab, the system operates at 60 watts per square meter of mesh. Compare that to another technology used in thirsty places like India: “air water generators,” which act like refrigerators to cool the air and allow it to condense, but at considerable energetic cost.

So the ionization works, but you can’t just deploy it willy-nilly wherever there might be a little bit of fog. You’d want a lot of the stuff, and you’d want the system to know when’s best to switch on. “What you'd really need to turn this into a viable water supply is to have a good sense of when the fog is present,” says chemical engineer Greg Peters, who studies air water generation techniques. “If it's just going to sit there being struck by lightning on a hilltop for half the year, then that's a lot of sunk costs.”

Varanasi Research Group at MIT

The technology could even make its way into power plants, specifically cooling towers, which spew water vapor. It takes a lot of water to cool these things. Like, 39 percent of total freshwater withdrawals in the United States are earmarked for power plants. Over the course of a year, one facility can use as much water as 100,000 people. “We can capture the plumes and collect that water,” Varanasi says, something no other technology can do.

To use this technology to collect natural fog, though, you need natural fog, which deserts don’t really have much of. That’s where our second new technology comes in. Researchers at UC Berkeley have developed what is essentially a water battery: It charges at night and drains during the day.

The water battery is based on a material known as a metal-organic framework. The metal being zirconium and the organic bit being carbon atoms. Combined, the two substances form a powder—a framework with lots of space inside. A very fancy sponge, more or less.

“If you expose this material to humid air, the framework will get saturated with water molecules,” says chemist Eugene Kapustin, coauthor on the paper. “And then, because the water molecules don't stick too tightly to the interior of the framework, we can release this water by heating the powder.”

The researchers took this metal-organic framework and spread it on top of a box. They then put this box inside another clear box with a lid. At night, they keep the lid open, letting air in. This air is relatively humid compared to the day. “During the day we simply close the lid of the outer box and expose it to sunlight,” Kapustin says. This heats the material and releases the water as vapor. “After 5 hours, at the bottom of the outer box we can see liquid water as it condenses on the walls and flows down.”

Sure, it doesn’t produce a tremendous amount of water at the moment: 7 ounces for every 2 pounds of metal-organic framework. But the researchers are testing an aluminum-based version of the material that is cheaper and twice as efficient. Scale up your box and add more of the metal-organic framework, and you collect even more water.

Also, the water battery can withstand at least 150 cycles without any degradation. “We analyzed the purity of the collected water, and we didn't see any organic parts or inorganic parts,” Kapustin says. “So this tells us that the material is stable, and also we see that the performance of our device doesn't decrease over time.”

Plus, the beauty of this system is its passivity—it uses only the power of the sun. And it works out in the wild, too—in tests in Arizona, the researchers got the thing to collect water even though humidity during the day dropped to 8 percent.

No, technologies like these won’t quench the world’s thirst. But they could help water-strapped areas follow perhaps the most important water rule of all: diversify your sources. Rely solely on infrastructure that pipes in faraway rainfall and you’re asking for trouble. Technologies like metal-organic frameworks and ionized fog collection won’t work everywhere, but one day they could help humanity avoid withering on the vine.

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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/wanna-pull-water-out-of-air-grab-some-ions-or-a-weird-sponge/