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existslikepristin · 3 years ago

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Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

#red velvet smut #snsd smut #girls generation smut #joy #sunny

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golbrocklovely · 4 years ago

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only the lonely survive // colby brock - chapter twenty-four: i’ve been missing you, it’s true

A/N: wow... it has been so LONG since i posted OTLS. sorry about that, i just needed a break from this story. i also needed to plan out how the rest of the story is going to play out, and i think i’m almost there. but anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter! sorry it’s a bit short, but i’m gonna try to post the next chapter next week at some point. thank you all for the love you have sent me for this story and for all of my stories. you guys are awesome :)

description of the story

taglist: @ajosieface , @localsleeper , @julyrubyrose , @far-to-many-bands , @absolute-randomness-forever

trigger warning: cursing??, mostly fluff

word count: 1222

~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Month Later

“…Alright, I’m gonna answer like one or two more questions and then I’m gonna get off.” I stated, my eyes on the camera.

I glanced down at my chat, looking for some questions to answer. Most were just people asking for shout outs and what not. Finally, I landed on one that had been asked the entire time I was doing this live.

Are you and Colby a thing?

I breathed, trying to ignore the butterflies that erupted in my stomach at the mere mention of his name.

“No. Me and Colby are not a thing. We’re really good friends. I mean, I’m friends with all the Trap House boys so… but yeah, me and Colby aren’t together.” A tight-lipped smile came to my face.

After I mentioned Colby, all hell broke loose. Everyone started mentioning him in some way or another. Some were telling people to stop mentioning him in my livestreams, some were saying I was lying, some were just saying me and him should be together.

“Okay everyone. I think I’m gonna call it a day. I got some editing to get done, plus I got work later tonight so… I’ll talk to yall later. Thanks for a good live!” I waved at the screen, giving a peace sign and ending the live.

I exhaled deeply, clicking my phone off and flopping onto my bed.

The last time I had seen Colby was over a month ago. Since I left LA, we had been texting and calling each other nonstop. Colby had asked me multiple times if I could come out to LA before he went on tour, which was going to be in a week or so. I told him I couldn’t, as much as I desperately wanted to see him.

He asked if there was any way he could buy me tickets to fly me out, especially since we both agreed that I would be staying at the Trap House if I could come. I denied him every time, saying I wouldn’t be able to accept a gift that big.

Even though it was tempting as all hell.

None of this was helped by the fact that his (and kind of mine) fans were posting of us constantly. I had seen fan edits of us, manips, and accounts dedicated to our relationship. It was really cute, don’t get me wrong, but all it did was make me miss him more.

I really just wanted to see him again.

A soft knock at my door brought me out of my thoughts. I turned towards my door, mumbling a ‘come in’. My Mom’s head popped around the corner.

“Hey honey? How are you doing?” She asked sweetly.

I shrugged. “I’m okay. I just finished the livestream.”

“How’d that go?” She stepped inside, getting closer to me.

“It was good. A lot of the fans were asking about Colby again.” I huffed.

“You really miss him, don’t you?” She questioned, a sad smile appearing on her face.

I nodded my head. “Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about him. I know we talk every day, but I really want to see him face-to-face, you know?”

My Mom sat down on my bed. “Well, I know you’ve been feeling down lately, so I wanted to get you something.”

“Aw, mom. You didn’t have to.” I cooed.

“Yes, I did. You’re my daughter and I hate seeing you so upset.” She pulled a pink paper bag out from behind her, placing it on my lap.

I pushed the tissue paper aside, pulling out the first little gift. It was a tiny bottle of my favorite perfume.

“Thanks, I was almost out of this.” I added.

The next gift was a tiny bottle of shampoo.

“Wait, this is so cute. Isn’t this like travel size or something?” I suggested.

My Mom grinned. “Yeah it is.”

The next was a travel size bottle of body wash, wipes, deodorant, and some snacks.

“This is all so sweet, Mom. Thank you.” I praised.

“There’s one more thing. There’s a card at the bottom.” She revealed, pointing at the bag.

I pursed my lips as I dug to the bottom, finding the card. It was in a lime green envelope, with my name on it. I yanked the card out, and the front said ‘Happy Graduation’ in big bold letters.

“I graduated months ago, Mom.” I laughed.

I slowly opened the card, a prewritten message of ‘The world is now your oyster! Go travel the see for new adventures!’ was on the one side. The other side just had the words ‘Look Up’ written in my Mom’s handwriting.

I cocked my head to the side, but slowly lifted my head to look at my Mom. In her hands were two plane tickets.

“Wait what?” I puzzled.

“I know you’ve been missing Colby a lot this past month, and I figured with the extra money I made with my side business, I could buy you this as a late graduation present.” She confessed, a light smile on her face.

I took the tickets from her hands, looking at them closely. Her words hadn’t registered in my head until I saw ‘Philadelphia to Los Angeles’.

“Oh my God!!” I screamed, jumping up and hugging my Mom tightly.

She let out a loud laugh as I let go of her and started jumping up and down in excitement.

“Wait when do I leave?” I inquired.

“In a week. I made sure to line it up with your work, since next week you only work one day, so I figure you can call out for that.” She explained.

“And I’m there for…?” I glanced down at the tickets.

“A week, as well.” She informed.

“Mom, you don’t know how badly I needed this.” I sang.

“Yes I do. I’ve heard your phone conversations with Colby.” She admitted.

I whined jokingly. “Mom!”

“What? I’m nosey.” She smirked. “Besides, if I have to hear another minute of you talking about Colby and how much you miss him, I might go crazy.”

I grabbed my Mom and embraced her again. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“No problem, sweetie.” She whispered.

As she left my room, I grabbed my phone. I thought about calling Colby and letting him know I was coming to see him, but then I thought of a better plan.

I scrolled to Sam’s number and called him.

“Hey Skye, what’s up?” Sam greeted.

I couldn’t hold in my excitement. “So… my mom bought me tickets to LA.”

Sam gasped. “What?! That’s great. Colby hasn’t mentioned anything.”

“I haven’t told him.” I answered.

“Why?” He queried.

I bit my lip. “I was thinking of surprising him.”

“Ooh, that sounds cool.” He remarked.

“I’m not flying out for another week, and I was wondering if maybe you could get me at the airport, and we could surprise Colby together.” I requested.

“I’m up for it. And also, thank God you’re coming out here. Colby will not shut up about you.” He disclosed.

I beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve never heard him talk about a girl this much before in my life.” Sam continued, deadpanning. “Now I understand why he gets annoyed when I talk about Kat so much.”

I giggled. “Alright. So, it’s set. I’ll see you in a week, Samuel.”

“See you then, Skye.” Sam replied.

<< CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 25 >>

#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock story #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fluff #sam golbach #colby brock x oc #only the lonely survive

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bubmyg · 5 years ago

Text

dare to begin - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: college!au, f2l (idiots to lovers), amateur model!jeongguk, aspiring photographer!jeongguk, amateur stylist!reader, graphic design student!reader, a touch of angst, mostly tooth rotting fluff

word count: 16,748

summary: jeongguk has a camera and you have a pirated editing software so what better for two broke college students to do than to open a photography business to their…closest friends on facebook or where kim seokjin’s modeling agency wants to sign jeongguk and you don’t know the first thing about curling his hair.

a/n: this was inspired by that random dispatch photoshoot in vegas...i’m not even sorry

“Oh fuck off.”

Jeongguk’s head lifted from where his forehead was pressed between the crook of his elbow, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “...for once, I didn’t even say anything—”

“Not you,” You clicked so angrily on the notification, it didn’t register and you had to jam your index finger into the button again, “The bursar’s office.”

“Oh, did they—” Jeongguk rolled to his back, head half dangling off the end of your bed as he pulled his phone to his face. “—oh. Tuition statements.”

“How can they make us pay for something that hasn’t even started yet? We haven’t even finished this semester.”

“What are they going to do if we don’t pay by the first day of the semester—” Jeongguk’s eyebrows peered at you underneath his phone, “—kick us out?”

You glared at the mass of numbers twisted into the statement until they muddled together and gave your conscious the mirage that the cost was an extra digit more. Your phone skidded across the surface of your desk, coming to a stop in the pointed corner next to a decorative jar of pens and a concert ticket you’d pushed through the cork board material substance lining the back.

“They won’t kick me out?” You didn’t look up from studying a fray of graining wood on the pointed corner of your desk but cocked an eyebrow at the waiver of uncertain concern in Jeongguk’s voice paired with the change in position from we to me, “Will they?”

“I don’t know,” You answered truthfully, arm slung over the back of your desk chair to face his pouted lips still slung backward over your bed. An unspoken why would they kick you out? “I really don’t.”

He answered your rhetorical with closed eyes and his phone pressing to his abdomen, “I don’t know if I’ll...have enough. That much. By then. Even if it’s not until the end of the summer…”

You scolded the glaring image of your bank statement when you gently tried, “There’s all kinds of loans you can apply for. What about scholarships? Isn’t the science department like...the biggest at the university? Surely they offer something—”

“I don’t think I have the grades,” There was a silence occupied by his notebook with messy organic chemistry notes rewritten twice from the previous semester when he’d taken the exact same class. Jeongguk dropped your gaze, shifting until the back of his head was resting on the side of your mattress while he went for his cuticles, picking at the edge of his thumb while soft red crept into his puffed cheeks and flaring nostrils.

You abandoned the open animation file on your laptop that you’d forgotten to click save on for the seventeenth time within the hour, a final project you just had to turn in with a semi coherence to the material of the semester to maintain your existing grade. You stumbled, desk chair catching on the edge of your crumbled rug but it didn’t deter you from flopping in beside Jeongguk, leaning over him with both elbows pressed into his stomach to snatch his notebook. He eyed you curiously under wavy fringe until you settled on him, chin pressed into the bottom of the pages as a concentrated scrunch met the pass of your eyes over his handwriting.

“What are you doing?”

You glanced up, gradual in the drag of your hands up his sides until you could jam your index fingers into the sensitive spots around his ribs, coaxing a soft squirm and a gasping giggle from his lips.

“Helping you get those grades. Do you really want to take organic chemistry for the third time?” Jeongguk didn’t flinch because your inquiry wasn’t teasing or jabbing, it was serious for the sake of never seeing him on the verge of tears over three credit hours again. He shook his head in negation instead, reaching behind him to snatch one of your pillows to drag behind his neck, propping him up just enough to study the curl of your stature against his chest.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good, now pay attention.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You watched Jeongguk sink his teeth into the mint chocolate ice cream balanced two dollops high on a cone with a wrinkle to one side of your nose, the smile on your lips forced when he swallowed the green between his cheeks and quipped, “What?”

“You know what,” You twirled a string of hot fudge onto your plastic fork, mouthing your lips over it until the sweet substance melted on the roof of your mouth, “Forget it.”

He shrugged, happily taking another, literal, bite off the opposite side of the treat tower, lips sponging down the length of his hand to noisily suck on the melted stream of ice cream that had rippled across his knuckles.

You sighed. Jeongguk grinned mint green, “Tastes like freedom.”

“My summer job says otherwise.” The bookstore wasn’t a fun place of employment during the school year let alone when three fourths of the student body was gone.

Jeongguk dabbed at the corner of his lips with a napkin, a sharp contrast to the way he’d been barbarically gnawing his way through the ice cream, “So does my summer tutoring. A lesser of two evils.”

“I suppose…”

“At least we can drink on Wednesday’s now and only feel slightly guilty.”

“You don’t drink.”

“I drink a little—”

“Is this your way of asking me to come over for beer tonight?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Doesn’t have to be for beer. Hoseok moved back home yesterday. I’m extra alone.”

You eyed his prize possession, his camera, encased snugly inside it’s over the shoulder case that Jeongguk kept within grasp on the tiny cafe table shared between the two of you. He followed your gaze, a careful hand coming to rest on the strap even though he knew you respected his comfort enough not to touch it.

“So, what, you talk me into following your wandering ass around the park for hours to take pictures and now you want me to hole up in your apartment and watch whatever terrible nature documentary you’ve found on Netflix?”

Jeongguk mumbled around another chunk of the treat in his palm, unaffected because he knew you were going to show up at his apartment regardless of invitation, “I bought us ice cream, didn’t I?”

You grumbled your thanks into your deviation of attention, pulling your phone to your eyes as you jabbed another spoonful of sundae into your cheeks. Jeongguk continued to happily munch while you scrolled through one social media and then the other, finally landing on Facebook with a disgruntled roll of your eyes the second the first post appeared.

“What?”

“Facebook.”

“Did Yoongi post another Area 51 meme?”

You scrolled to the next post just to confirm that yes, sadly, before scrolling back up to the original source of your offending scoff. You eyed the generic smile plastered on the lips of the girl you’d went to high school with, the same as the generic caption on the generic set of pictures she’d taken of her dog and someone’s baby, advertising a brand new photography business, one she’d be doing on the side with no prices listed and simply a shoot me a text to book an appointment!, a service exclusive to those who knew her and who would pay her a little extra because of that connection and a business page created exclusively for a business that would be forgotten by the end of the summer.

Your lips parted to explain, unfortunate in absently scrolling past Yoongi’s string of laughing emojis at whatever Area 51 meme his conspiracy theorist group chat had sent him that morning, before you were pausing. Thumb freezing, lips parted in a perfect circle, eyes the only thing moving as they swept upward.

Jeongguk watched you like you were seconds away from shedding a shell or sprouting a second head or both, ice cream sticking to the pout of his bottom lip and a new melted stream lipping into the stretch between his thumb and index finger. He didn’t follow your gaze when it jerked from him to his camera bag, watching as your entire being lit like the thing you were sprouting wasn’t a second head but instead a hovering light bulb.

“You know what we should do?”

“...go to the park and take pictures of the playground equipment in obscure angles that strangely turn out to be aesthetically pleasing?”

“Close,” Your nail dug into your screen until you were at the top post again, flipping your phone over while you continued to study the zippers wrapped to the width of Jeongguk’s camera bag. When he’d squinted at the screen for what you deemed necessary to get the gist of the post, you continued, “We should open a photography business.”

Jeongguk squinted, “A what now?”

“A photography business. You take the pictures, I edit them. Foolproof way to earn extra cash.”

“In order to have a photography business we have to have something to photograph…”

“I bet we can get Yoongi to pay us twenty bucks to take pictures of his dog.”

“It’s almost not worth the twenty—”

“Okay, forty dollars,” You shrugged, reaching out with your own clean but crumpled napkin to dab at the excess ice cream on his hand, “I’m sure there’s some of our friends back home who need pictures of their baby. Or their cousin’s baby. Or their little brother’s senior pictures—” You blinked at the confused round of his doe eyes, “—what could it hurt to try?”

After a second of silence and swatting your hand away to lick at the dried ice cream instead, “...well we’ll need examples.”

“Good thing we were just about to go to the park—” You gestured toward his camera bag, “—and that thing is virtually attached to you.”

Jeongguk gradually began to loosen, “You want to do this right now?”

You stood then, binning your virtually untouched sundae before reaching out for his mostly eaten treat. He shoved the last of the cone between his cheeks instead of handing it to you, puffed cheeks innocent as he handed you his mass of crumpled napkins to throw away instead before you were taking both his hands to pull him up.

“What better time than now?” You grinned when he cocked an eyebrow, still holding onto your hands, “C’mon. You can help me edit them tonight.”

Skeptical, “Okay…”

Jeongguk dropped one of your hands to reach for his camera, shrugging it messily over his shoulders while you squeezed the remaining appendage in your grasp, teasing, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to take a ton of pictures of me, anyway.”

You weren’t immune to the soft blush that spread outward from the center of his cheeks, chin dropping as he shouldered his way out of the nearby door, holding it open for you and when you skipped through he grumbled, “Shut up.”

You were fresh off a playful argument about whether he could arrange your hair into a halo of hearts around your head when it happened.

“Not possible,” You dismissed, a disguised threat as you glared up at him from your seated place on the grass. He stepped closer and you held up a steady palm, “Do not touch me or my hair.”

Jeongguk whined, fingers wrapped around his lens as he crouched, twirling and snapping a picture of your indignation. “At least lay down for me? The flowers look nice…”

“These are weeds—”

“Please?”

You obliged because the stars in his eyes told you to, falling backwards to the plush earth with an arm tucked behind your neck and a hefty sigh. He’d stepped between your legs, one foot at your knees and one at your hip as he craned, tongue in cheek in concentration until he mumbled, “I still think the hearts would look cool.”

“I thought you were good at this whole photography thing.”

You retracted into yourself before he could grab you, a shriek of laughter tumbling out of your lips even before his fingers curled into your sides and you flailed an absent foot at his stature squatted over you, chanting I’m sorry, stop! until Jeongguk relented to a messy sitting position next to you in a soft cloud of grass clippings and dust, camera plopped in his lap as he glared at you.

You rolled until you were perched on your elbows, reaching out your previously assaulting foot to prod the light denim on his thighs. When he cocked an eyebrow, you tried, “Any good ones?”

Without missing a beat, he hummed, “As good as we can get with that face of yours.”

“Hey!—”

The tiniest of smiles pressed the ghost of a dimple in Jeongguk’s cheek and he tossed his head, “Come here.”

An awkward waddle over and you were pressed into his side, cheek on his arm as he scrolled through the shots on the digital screen. It was something about his ability to capture shots at just the right moment in just the right lighting with just the right angle that elicited a feeling of fond within you, that even if you didn’t particularly like the squash of your chin between your neck or the way the wind had curled the material of your shirt around your torso, it was still a glimpse into how Jeongguk saw the world, saw you. A strange fuzziness bubbled to the tips of your fingers as he continued to scroll through his lens to what he perceived as your beauty, focused more on the gradual smile that grew higher on his teeth as he flipped past candid shots of you telling him off to staged shots of you perched on a park bench looking as skeptical as you could about the barking squirrel perched just out of frame above you.

“Good, don’t you think?” His fond faced you, further melting the numbness on the edge of your appendages to the entirety of your stature.

You relaxed into his so that your nod brushed against his bicep, afraid of what your face would say if you met his gaze and you mumbled, “Told you we didn’t need heart hair.”

“Hush,” Jeongguk’s screen went black as he set it gently on the cross of his ankles, leaning on his palms to accommodate your stature better, “Do you think we got plenty of examples?”

You continued to stare at his blank screen, skin warm on the fabric covering his arm and suddenly it happened when you blurted, “Let me take some of you.”

A possessive hand curled to obscure your view of the blank preview screen, shoulders jumping as he tried to laugh it off, “No, that’s okay.”

Chin on his shoulder, you dared to look at him and utter, “What? I’ll edit them. I mean, I know your face looks like that but that’s the beauty of technology.”

“My joke,” Jeongguk’s neck craned backward to observe you, smile flustered like the pink that had overtaken more of his cheeks, “...why do you want to?”

You shrugged, “You always take pictures of me. I just thought we could change it up—” You swallowed, “You know. For our business.”

“Ah, marketing technique, huh,” Slowly, he uncovered the device, flicking it back to life with a seasoned thumb as he was stretching it to place it softly on your thigh, “Okay, boss. Where do you want me?”

You’d used a camera before but something so expensive to the price tag but priceless to the wary man before you made it an extra weight in your palms, fumbling at first to get anything that wasn’t blurry. One of your first clear shots was after you’d shoved on broad shoulders until he was seated on a wooden bench, awkward and small at first until you sighed with the camera at your hip.

The exasperated relax that sighed from your lips opened up a new realm that had the strange bubbles from earlier lodging into the base of your throat when Jeongguk reclined, both arms framing the back of the bench and his legs flopped open, that slight crinkle to one edge of his nose still present until you slowly rose the camera and it erased into something effortlessly smug.

“I can’t...I can’t get it to focus.” For two reasons now.

Jeongguk nodded in seeming understanding and you had a hunch he didn’t entirely understand why but he patted the spot next to his thigh on the bench nonetheless. “Come here. Rest your elbow on this and then try. It’ll stabilize it a little bit more…”

You startled yourself and him when you bypassed the bench for his thigh, digging your elbow into the taut muscle as you pulled the camera to your face, catching his surprise first and then the slow smirk that melted back into his features, chin tilting as you got a few more shots before pulling your touch away.

The next set of shots was you frantically ordering him to stay like a dog until you’d jogged the proper distance away (Don’t trip! Watch my camera!) and motioned for him to walk to you. It was rigid at first, just as before, a little too fast and his face was on the edge of bursting into audible giggles. You continued to back away, holding up a palm for him to pause again and then you shouted, “Relax!” louder than before and more important.

There was an easy gait to his walk now, feet crossing as they stepped in front of each other, one hand finding the front pocket of his jeans as the oversized hang of his striped blue shirt crinkled at his thin waist. One hand dared to fluff at his hair, gaze going out to the occupants of the park rather than the desolate intersection to his other side and you couldn’t help but giggle at the unsure smile that crossed his lips immediately after the action.

Jeongguk settled for an easy saunter after that, one hand in his pocket, both in, both out, until you were tired of the clench of his jaw and you called over the raise of his device to the lower half of your face, “Hey! Are those yellow converse you’re wearing?”

He frowned at first, “What’s wrong with my yellow converse?” before breaking into a gentle grin, one that started at the crinkles around his eyes and traveled into the wide pull of his teeth as the easy swing of his steps stumbled into his louder laughter and you continued to click away all the same until he set his sights on you. Hunched back, rolled shoulders, arms comically splayed out behind him as he darted for you, a squeak of surprise leaving your lips and before you could think to hold onto his camera and run, he was on you, arms around your waist to direct his giggles directly over your ear.

The excitement died with gentle sways in the center of the sidewalk. Jeongguk continued to hold your hips as he pulled away, quieter now, “Do you think we have enough now?”

“Plenty,” You held his camera out to him until his grip was secure on it, prodding your index finger to the center of his chest, “Did you want to take anymore? I know you originally wanted to come because you had some ideas for your portfolio…”

He beamed, slightly apologetic in the slant of it on his lips, “It’s okay, we have all summer. I’m...kind of hungry anyway.”

“We just had ice cream!”

“We’ve been here for four hours.”

You eyed the time on your phone and then the dip of the sun behind some wisped clouds in the horizon. “Oh.”

“You’ll come with me another day, though?”

You patted Jeongguk’s chest instead of prodding it. “Of course, Guk.”

He plopped in beside you, two paper plates balanced between his long fingers and the curve of his wrist, each piled high in fresh slices of pizza. One plate was deposited to the coffee table beyond the sway of your ankles, the latter pulled over his thighs to begin happily munching at the toppings while you continued to hack at the keys on your laptop.

“Any progress?” Jeongguk leaned closer with grease stained lips, “Making us look good?”

You hummed, dragging your finger over your touchpad. Another notch down on contrast, another notch up on the chosen filter, some color correction, and lessening of shadows to compensate for the natural lighting.

“Trying my best. And…” You navigated to save the image on the screen, one of Jeongguk walking toward you with a hand in his pocket and an easy expression adorning his otherwise tentative features. “I’m done!”

He pouted, grease stained finger trailing to the screen, “You cut off my shoes.”

“I blame your camera,” You exited out of the program, pulling up your internet browser instead. You paused, the cursor blinking on the search engine and you turned to observe the fish of Jeongguk’s lips as he gnawed on another bite of pizza dough, “...do you really want me to post some of these?”

He dusted his fingers on the edge of his joggers, leaning closer until his cheek was smooshed against the crook of your elbow. “I mean, what can it hurt.”

You began to type then, slow in entering the cursed Facebook and you chatted as you typed, “Should we create an official page for the business and everything?”

“Absolutely we should,” Jeongguk made grabby hands at your laptop until you relented and let him pull it into the awkward curl of his lap. His eyebrows furrowed at the first post on your feed, the same Yoongi Area 51 meme that continued to fester in your feed because Taehyung couldn’t and wouldn’t stop commenting on it and his tongue sandwiched in his molars with further confusion, doe eyes scanning down the length of the screen until the tip of your nail pointed him in the right direction.

Jeongguk hesitated again on the first question. Name.

“Uh…”

“I got it,” You leaned your head against his, softly, “Dare to Begin…”

Dare to begin a new semester that neither of you knew if you could properly pay for. Dare to begin a summer of trying to figure out how to pay for that semester. Dare to begin a new semester by some miracle and then what (figure it out when you get there, survive) with a major you adored and a major he did because photography wasn’t a viable career option. Dare to begin a friendship with someone who photographed the world like the beauty he saw it in but photographed you like he was in love with the world because you existed in it.

Dare to begin a new business on Facebook, of all things.

He wrinkled his nose, “I was just going to go with Flash Fiends or something.”

“Oh, come on,” You reasoned your prior thoughts to something that wouldn’t cause suspicion of your sentiments, “Dare to begin, like weddings? They’re beginning their journey with us. Senior pictures? Beginning a journey. Baby pictures? Again...beginning a long life journey—”

“You’re serious about this?” Jeongguk had already typed Flash Fiends in the name box and you squeaked in indignation.

“I guess not,” Suddenly bashful, “I just thought it was creative…”

“It is,” You blinked and he’d navigated through three other windows before he was typing dare to begin with Flash Fiends as the opening line in the description box. He hacked away some more, a generic description and you equally agreed to put prices in the album with the pictures of the two of you. Another jam of his pinky into the enter key and he lifted up off your side to hand you your laptop back. “There! Okay, now do your thing.”

Doing your thing included dragging all the files into an album, adding searchable hashtags, making the post public, choosing to set the last photo of Jeongguk you’d edited as the cover photo. A couple more clicks to make the post, navigating to share it onto your profile and dropping a tag of his profile and, “My thing is done.”

He took your laptop from you to replace it with the extra plate of pizza, sliding the remote into his hand in the same movement and flicking on the television. “Now,” He gestured solemnly to the litter of devices in front of you, both your phones and the still open laptop, “We wait.”

You remembered two of the share notifications before you dozed off underneath the cozy puff of Jeongguk’s duvet and the heavy weight of his arm draped across your waist. One from Yoongi, an oh so serious I’m going to help my friends! share that included the obligatory you’re very talented, Guk-ah! I’d love to have you shoot Holly one day...comment. One from Taehyung, a less than serious share that included a string of laughing emojis solely on the image of Jeongguk lounging seriously on the wooden park bench.

The notification you most definitely did not remember was the email from Kim Enterprises titled internship inquiry.

You crawled from Jeongguk’s embrace to snatch your laptop, afraid to pull the email up on the tiny screen of your phone in fear you were reading it wrong. The light off the screen roused him from his sleep before your suddenly-not-tired-anymore gasp did.

“What? What’s wrong?” He misjudged the search of his hand for you, gently sliding across your cheek instead of your arm like he’d been aiming but you barely flinched, covering your lips with both hands instead.

“This can’t be real,” The words muffled through your fingers before they were in action again, highlighting the email address and jamming it into the search engine.

“I’m not following you…”

“To be honest,” You clicked on the first result of the search, another gasp raw in your throat when the website, that website, emerged, “Me either.”

“B-Bloom?” Jeongguk squinted at the screen, turning your laptop towards the sleep still coating the fringe stuck in his eyelashes, “What is Bloom?”

“A magazine. An extremely popular magazine.”

He brushed your fingers out of the way to navigate back to the tab with your email on it, squinting at the address, “Why did an extremely popular magazine email you?”

“Let me read this email to you, Guk.”

“I can read—”

“Greetings owner of Flash Fiends. We were extremely intrigued by the contents of your recent business inquiry not for the service at hand but rather the individual seen in some of the photos. The social media entity tagged him as Jeon Jeongguk, and if that is the identity of this individual, we’d be interested in signing him—” You paused, swallowing half your tongue and holding a singular finger up as you inhaled audible through your nose, “—for a summer modeling internship in the interest of some of our newest summer spreads, paid of course. If that is something that would be of interest to you, please reply to this email with an updated resume and we will be in touch. Thank you again, and we look forward to hearing from you. Park Jimin, Department Head of Kim fucking Enterprises and Bloom fucking Inc.”

There was a passing moment of silence, some shifting as Jeongguk fell back into the sheets with his pillow curled in his bare arm and he mumbled, “I told you Flash Fiends was an incredible name.”

“Jeongguk! Did you hear me?”

He hummed, “I saw it, too.”

“And? They want to pay you! This is the perfect opportunity to earn the money you need for next semester!”

When he was silent for a frightening second, you shut your laptop and shucked it to the floor, turning until you were facing him. You’d barely settled when a tiny, forced smile was dimpling into his cheeks. “I’m not going without you,” He tried to provide and you frowned.

“Uhm, yes you absolutely are.”

“I’m not a model, babe.”

“You’re entirely more attractive than you give yourself credit for,” You blinked at him, soft fingers subconsciously reaching to stroke wavy tresses from his gaze, “Come on. What could it hurt to try?”

“You said that about the photography business idea, too, and now look where we are,” He flushed under your touch between his eyebrows, “Besides, are you going to run that alone if I leave?”

You bypassed his sarcasm, “We’re in a place where you could get that money you need for next semester. One step closer to graduation. And all you’d have to do is pose for some pictures. They’ll probably pay for your housing and shit too—”

“Okay, but I’m still not going without you,” You waited on Jeongguk to exhale through his nose, considering something over the top of your head before elaborating, “...if I’m going to try this, you’re going with me. Just like the photography business.” Just like everything.

“You need a resume first.”

“And you need some sort of skill that goes hand in hand with a famous model—” He beamed, “—like yours truly.”

“Fuck off—”

“You could be my assistant.”

“Fuck off twice.”

“What about my stylist?” Jeongguk let the suggestion hang in the air for a second before teasing, “Your eyeliner looks half decent sometimes.”

“And does any part of you genuinely think I want to go with you at this point—”

“We also need someone to fake these resumes for us—” His features wrinkled up, “—can we get arrested for that? Should I apologize to my FBI agent now?”

You ignored him, instead saying simply, “Taehyung.”

The software engineer blinked at you past artificial blue, the light coating the dyed grey locks that parted in all the right places around the circumference of his head, baggy flannel wrapped around his knuckles that drummed absently into his desk.

“So...you were serious about that Facebook post?”

“Not really, but—” You exchanged a glance with Jeongguk, “—now we kind of are.”

Taehyung spun slowly in his desk chair, making one full rotation until he pondered, “So, let me get this straight. You want me to fake resumes for the two of you so that you can get a paid internship at Bloom, aka, one of the biggest fashion magazines in the country, because they somehow, through the power of the internet, found your half-joking, half-serious photoshoot and want to sign the amateur model that is Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk exchanged a glance with you this time, “Correct.”

The older boy blinked, once, twice, four times before shrugging, pushing sleeves up to his elbows as he dug bare heels into the floor, dragging himself closer to the computer to begin hacking away. The blue light turned white and he mumbled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Twenty minutes later you were sitting across from Taehyung at his tiny dining table with a manila folder in hand containing two pieces of paper, stapled together neatly in the corner, and printed with thick ink you were almost afraid to touch. The man across from you sucked noisily on coffee from a Pikachu themed mug, taking a massive bite from a chocolate energy bar in the same movement and he spoke through the crumbs gathering on the corners of his lips, “I think you’ll find those sufficient.”

You ignored Jeongguk’s flat out whine at the contents of his papers, gleeing, “Oh, good thinking, Tae. I’ll absolutely take credit for RM’s cheekbones in the Seoul music video.”

“Wait—” Jeongguk placed his hand on your arm until he could drag your fake resume close enough to scan it. Another whine, high pitched and through slanted eyebrows and pouted lips, “—why do you get to be attached to Namjoon?”

“Your crush is showing.”

“At least yours doesn’t say you were a former foot model!”

You couldn’t suppress the snort in your throat, gently prying the wrinkled papers from Jeongguk’s death grip to confirm that Taehyung did, in fact, write that Jeongguk had an impressive track record of modeling for various small shoe companies with posters plastered in every massive mall on the south side of the country.

“Why—”

“Because you can’t see your face, dumbass,” Taehyung finished the bar in hand in two bites, shucking the wrapper into a pile of various other trash on the edge of his dining table, “It’s easier to fake if they do check references. What do you think they’re going to do, pull your socks off to check?”

“There’s approximately a million other parts of my body that aren’t my face.”

“Not quite a million…”

“Anyway,” You flattened both your resumes to the table, tapping on the section that said references with a singular reference, “What is this phone number?”

“Mine,” Another energy bar had materialized from somewhere and the wrapper was loudly crinkling in Taehyung palm as he shrugged into another bite, “I’m your manager now.”

“There’s no way this is going to work.”

“This will work,” He took another swig from his mug and when something like a belch rumbled in his throat you figured out that it wasn’t coffee but something carbonated, “What? Do you not have any trust in me?”

You fiddled in the backseat of the cab, the seat belt too tight on your shoulder and digging into that spot on your neck the more you shifted. You tore your gawking gaze away from the city skyline trailing along outside the window to Jeongguk prodding at his thigh with your index finger.

“You think they’ve called Taehyung yet?”

“If they haven’t yet they’re probably not going to,” His chin swiveled from the window to look at you, gently taking the nervous tap of your hand into his palm and holding it in his lap, “They’ve already said we’re in. We’re already here. It’s okay.”

You were silent through another stop sign and the anger of honking traffic over the soft radio before you uttered, “So Taehyung must be some kind of wizard, then.”

Jeongguk’s palm caught on the back of the driver’s seat when the brakes slammed again, offering you another gentle smile as his thumb swiped over your knuckles, “Evidently.”

“We’re here,” The driver informed you over the ambiance of unmoving traffic and screeching tires, holding out an expectant hand for Jeongguk to jam a wad of cash into before he was pulling you out onto the sidewalk after him.

Backpacks on and suitcases barely lifted over the lip of the trunk of the cab before he was speeding away off the curb in a rare moment of serenity on the street. Your easy going shrug in Jeongguk’s direction was short lived until you turned toward the building in question, your building for the next few months, nonchalant turning to ice even as summer heat burned through the fabric of the hoodie you’d adorned since five am that morning at the airport.

A skyscraper was the easiest way to explain it in layman's terms, towering endless stories high so it almost appeared to curve and sway into the flecks of clouds skimming through the blue sky. It seemed to be made entirely of windows, tinted enough and if you squinted, covered in elegant curtains or outlined with towering succulents in molted clay pots. The front door was sliding glass, accented in gold like the name plate jutting out in an awning over a massive outdoor rug with the same name and logo etched in a shag of the same hue. The longer you gaped, the more people entered or exited through the very glass doors, ingraining the soft mechanical hum they made into the forefront of your conscious along with the polished leather shoes and designer purses and singular wedding bands that likely costs more than you would pay in tuition for four years combined.

“This can’t be it,” You panicked from Jeongguk’s arm again, finding it to dig your fingernails into and turn back onto the street, frantically trying to catch sight of your long gone taxi driver but the street had filled in your moment of disbelief and all shades of yellow and orange began to look the same. “Surely we told him the wrong address.”

“Babe,” He didn’t move his arm so as not to startle you, wincing the further your nails curled into his skin but gentle in his call nonetheless, “Baby, hey—” His eyes trekked the jump of your throat as you swallowed, finally meeting his eye contact, “—let’s just go inside. The worst they can tell us is no.”

They didn’t tell you no but the look from the receptionist told you to be self conscious of the joggers shrunk just above your ankles and the tattered edges of the hoodie curled around your knuckles that curled your skin anemic into the handle of your suitcase while Jeongguk easily chatted through her questions and paperwork, confirming that yes, you were the guests of Kim Enterprise. When you uttered purple to his under the breath pick a color inquiry, you didn’t expect it to be for a spiraling wrist band with a shiny metal key attached to one end, an end that pressed into the pulse point on your wrist. He turned from the desk, a folder in hand and a matching blue band on his wrist, one he shook at you so that the key twisted softly underneath the massive crystal chandelier taunting the space above the front desk.

“We’re on the tenth floor,” He seemed entirely too at ease in the drape of his oversized crew neck and baggy joggers over open-toed sandals amongst luxuries like a jar of pens perched on the edge of the front counter you commended him for grabbing because the shiny ballpoints seemed to be carved of the same, close-to-real gold accented every inch of the building. He flicked his head again, soft bangs bouncing, and you were left to stumble after his stature until his advancements had to pause for a tall man in a matching tracksuit walking a happy looking doberman from the direction that you smelled chlorine.

“Does this place have a pool?” You whispered with your hands braced between his shoulder blades, waiting until the man was out of sight to navigate for the elevators.

Jeongguk waited until he stabbed the button, stepping back to jostle the folder in hand to squint at one of the pages. “Looks like it—” His eyes glinted for a second, “—and a full gym!”

He continued chattering about the amenities while you stepped onto the elevator, listing off the various delivery services that would come to the front lobby versus the ones that would bring it to your door, only pausing through a rant about what the in house cafe coffee cost when you jammed the key on your wrist into the lock of the apartment, your apartment, and pushed the door open.

Jeongguk mirrored your panicked thoughts from earlier when he let go of the handle of his suitcase, causing the lopsided storage to tumble to the hardwood below. He articulated it next, “This can’t be it. There has to be a mistake. We’re in the wrong apartment or something—”

“Guk,” You comforted him with a hand on his hip, “Our keys wouldn’t have worked if this wasn’t the right place. They wouldn’t have called us by name at the front desk…”

You followed the awe of his gaze as it tilted upward and in swivel, taking in the muted caramel hardwood glossed underneath fluffy white rugs and hues of blue leather furniture, similar wood color to the floor marking that of the cabinets and tables nailed to walls or pushed into corners, accent pieces and fake flowers doused in blacks and whites sprinkled throughout the various nooks. The windows you’d noticed from the street stretched out in the opposite direction from where you’d came in, allowing you a view not of the street but through the city, a birds eye view through buildings taller and shorter than your own, some close enough to theoretically touch and others just an unworldly as they would be from ground level. Thin black curtains swayed from gold accented rods, a result of the white ceiling fan and the chill of air conditioning seeping out through various vents pressed into the crown molding of the rippled ceiling. A staircase marked the far corner, spiraling upward into an open concept hallway that disappeared into another handful of doors, the wood a slightly darker shade than that on the floor but the railing coated in a curved gold metal.

He swayed next to you and when he shuffled forward, you registered that he’d stepped out of his sandals, picking his feet up like prolonged contact would dirty the immaculate condition. He’d no much as peeked around the corner, the curve of broad shoulders a sliver in your peripheral, when a noise of surprise came high pitched from him.

You peeled off your tennis shoes by the heels, taking long steps until you were behind him. In the kitchen, an open concept room marked onto by the black marble bar that made an L shape to the hum of shining appliances.

“The lights are motioned censored,” Jeongguk provided at a breath and the two of you were still enough in silence that they flicked off. You moved to test his theory, flailing a hand out and frosted globes curled into the ceiling in threes illuminated once more.

You stepped around him, hardwood trailing into slick white tile and you nearly stumbled into the edge of the countertop when you tried to step for the neatly folded triangle of paper perched in the center next to a bowl of fresh fruit. You plucked it into your grasp, not without dislodging a yellow apple that rolled a few paces across the specks of silver shining through in the countertop, using your thumb to smooth out the creases to squint at the printed type.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Jeongguk uttered finally, still rooted in place but slumped against the wall.

You flipped the paper over, “Apparently heading to the agency for a meeting with Park Jimin.”

His eyes closed, feet shuffling until his entire back was pressed into the wall, “I knew that. They said that in the confirmation email. I meant—”

“—we can figure out what to do with this place when we get back. We need to get ready,” You glanced at him, “I mean, you can go in our airport clothes but I’d rather...not.”

“Right…” Jeongguk squinted, eyes trailing over your shoulder to the nestled staircase as he pushed himself up off the wall, “You think the bedrooms are up there?”

You frowned, “Why not just change down here?”

“On account of giant ass windows and thin curtains I don’t entirely trust yet,” His voice echoed to you no matter where he ventured into the house, going first to snatch his fallen suitcase and then secondly making his way for the ascend.

You almost tripped trying to collect your own bag, heaving by the time you caught his stature on the stairs and he turned to you with an amused cock of his eyebrow. “Coming with?”

“Don’t leave me down there alone,” You countered, shoving at his waist, “Too big for me to be by myself. This makes my dorm look like a thimble.”

Jeongguk laughed, a soft sound as his feet hit the next level, glancing down each hallway and then at you. It was an unspoken race until your coiled muscles jumped the opposite direction, meandering into bedrooms at each end of the upper level. You heard his cackles grow louder from within the first door your reached and your conscious had just began to affirm the same thing he yelled to you, “These are fucking huge too!”

A massive queen bed with a white duvet and two white blankets neatly folded at the end, two white wicker rocking chairs, a white throw rug peeking out from underneath the bed frame, white tile in an en suite bathroom like that in the kitchen cut off where the slightly darker wood floor began.

You dropped your suitcase unceremoniously in the threshold, picking your feet like Jeongguk had been before as you dug into the top pouch of the bag to retrieve a different outfit. Three splashes of water to your cheeks and a struggle with a jean button confirmed you were very much still alive and you dared to wander out into the hallway after a fight with an automatic sink faucet.

There was one more bedroom half the size of the one you’d claimed on your side of the hall, one you inspected with a quiet hum, dragging the door shut behind you as your sweeping steps brought you back outside. The false sense of serenity your anxious mind had calmed you into immediately erased when there was a figure standing at the head of the stairs, forcing a scream from your lips.

“It’s me—” But it didn’t look like Jeongguk, not the Jeongguk you were used to anyway. Neatly pressed black slacks falling neatly around his ankles, a black baggy top that curled into his elbows with vertical blue stripes cutting down the surface of the fabric, the material tugged and cinched with a thin belt at the point of his thin waist, new jewelry curled over his exposed wrists and collarbones and fingers, hair slightly damp and parted effortlessly.

“What the fuck?” You barked.

He glanced down at his shirt, picking at one of the loose buttons and then finally deciding to do it up, a muted, “Does this look okay?” catching in his throat when you rushed for him, catching his wrists and quickly undoing his previous action. He was flushed harsh at the neck when you glanced up at him, sheepish in the smile that crossed the own heat flaming through your stature.

“Yes,” You affirmed, “You look great, but…”

“But—”

“Aren’t I supposed to do your hair?”

Jeongguk blinked at the pink in his cheeks worsened. “Yeah, I was thinking…” He seemed to wince but you knew it as embarrassment, “Maybe you could curl it for me some time? More of a wave than what’s naturally there...you know.”

You eyed one of the wispy strands that swayed out over the top of his ear, not included in the wet swipe of his brush through his tresses.

“What do I look like?” You teased, grabbing his wrist to tug him down the stairs two at a time, “Your stylist?”

“Jeon Jeongguk and…” The man behind the counter trailed off, reading your name a bit quieter from the front of a blue file folder with a raised eyebrow. You nodded with a smile nonetheless, nudging Jeongguk who was still fixated on an oak tree sized fern resting in front of the sleek wall beyond the counter.

“Perfect,” His chair clicked across the plastic mat underneath the wheels, head disappearing into a file cabinet before returning with two laynards. He passed them across the desk, blank ID badges encased in thick plastic sleeves that would earn you clearance. “Your headshot will accompany the ID—” He was addressing Jeongguk point blank, “—once you take an appropriate one. Company protocol.”

Jeongguk passed you one lanyard, untangling his absently and he inquired softly, “...when will those be taken?”

The man frowned, “In just a few moments? Were you not aware?”

“I thought we had a meeting scheduled with Park Jimin,” You drew the man’s attention to you, stretching the lanyard around your neck.

“Oh, you do,” He smiled, “His meeting is running late, so we’re going to send you to the studio first.”

“We weren’t prepared for a shoot…” Jeongguk tucked his own badge over his neck.

The man willingly addressed you this time, smile tight lipped as an obnoxious office phone began to ring behind him, “Well, I’m sure your extremely talented stylist will be able to make you presentable from the shoulders up, yes?”

You swallowed, “Absolutely.”

“Perfect. The studio is down the hall to the left. Follow the signs posted on the wall,” More plastic wheels clicking across the floor and the ringing silenced as he placed the speaker against his shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me. Hello, Kim Enterprises—”

“Hey,” Jeongguk nudged you as you trailed down the mentioned hallway, squinting at an array of plastic signs drilled in a row on the wall. He tripped when you abruptly turned, pointing to direct him instead but he just nudged you again, “You can try out the whole curling my hair thing a bit sooner than expected.”

You dared to glance away from the scattered map in your brain to the shag of his locks of his eyebrows, ones that had already begun to dry and scrunch into soft waves. “Yeah,” You nodded, nudging him in the direction of the arrow for headshot studio, “Maybe.”

There was a woman stationed outside one of the open doorways, absently scrolling through her phone and she jerked when you approached, pocketing her phone in a messy fumble. “Ah, hello!” She greeted, and you rushed for the plastic at your chest to flip it over to display your name. “You must be the new duo...Jeongguk and—” She squinted at your name, uttering it too. “—perfect!” Soft curls bounced around her shoulders and when she turned you were knocked backward by the overwhelming smell of vanilla, but it faded like her figure into the room. “If you’ll follow me…”

The room opened into rows of empty makeup counters, bright lights burning hot over the top of walls half coated in mirrors. A few of the chairs were pulled out, like they’d been used earlier in the day, and some spare makeup bags were left sprawled with the products rolled onto the white counters. The woman was standing in a far corner at a clean counter aside from a neatly packaged makeup bag, a hair dryer, and a curling iron with the cord wrapped neatly around it’s head.

“I think you’ll find this sufficient,” She chirped in reference to the items at the table. She pulled out the chair, just for extra measure. “If not, there are extra of everything in the cabinet on the far side of the room. If the skin tone is not correct, your welcome to any of the others, as well. This bag is yours for the duration of your stay so I recommend keeping it stocked so you do not waste time before shoots.”

“Other than that, have fun!” Her hand centered between Jeongguk’s shoulder blades, pushing until he followed her unspoken lead and collapsed into the chair. “Come across the hall when you’re prepared. I’ll notify our photographer of your arrival.”

He stared at you through the mirror until she’d slipped out of the room and then some, finally uttering slow and gentle, “Uh. So, what are you going to do to me?”

You decided to place your fingers in his hair to calm yourself in the slightest, fluttering the strands in both palms, and even your teasing was absent, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to fix this—”

“Should you start with makeup?”

Both your gazes absently trailed to the rolled up black bag and your gradual nod came before your steps trailed to the opposite side of his chair. “I’m not going to do much…” You rambled while you discarded a liquid foundation that was a shade too light for Jeongguk for a powder one that appeared to match. “You don’t need it…”

You shook some of the substance into a tray, marveling at a clean powder brush before jabbing the soft end into the pile of dust curled in your palm. Your nose wrinkled when you moved for him, using your free hand to nudge his bangs out of the way before your internal monolog told you fuck it and the same stabbing motion became the end of the brush into the center of Jeongguk’s nose.

He spluttered and you panicked when the fallout of the clumped dust spread below to the black fabric of his shirt. “That how you do it, huh?” He spoke through powdered stained lips and you frowned, spreading it up and over his cheekbones.

“Close enough,” You finished evening out the powder before dropping the brush, reaching to dust at his shirt instead. He let you, waiting until you’d dulled the color into soft, barely there blots along the surface of his chest and watching with rapt attention as you straightened, settling curled fists onto your hips with a huff.

“I think that’s enough makeup.”

“It’s just powder.”

“Exactly. You can’t even tell it’s there—” Jeongguk gestured to the drying and fraying mop on his head before sanctioning his hands underneath his thighs again, like you’d bite him if he moved while you worked, “—now fix my hair.”

You unraveled the cord, plugging it into the row of outlets lining the far wall before stretching the warming end of the iron toward Jeongguk’s face so quick he ducked, an attempt to loosen the perpetual frown that was carving a discolored circle into your bottom lip from the harsh suction of your teeth into the plush substance. When it didn’t work, he rounded his lips and blew upward so that the section of hair you feathered into your fingers fluttered out of your grasp. You cracked a smile then, dropping the curling iron to your side and you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Behave.”

He giggled, a soft sound that matched the crinkle of his powdered covered nose and his hands went back to being stiff underneath his legs. “Yes, ma’am.”

If it weren’t hard enough teaching yourself to curl short strands of hair on someone else, it was worse that the someone was Jeongguk, wide eyes coated in celestial bodies peering quietly up at you, a soft encouragement paired with tender giggles when you cursed. You nudged at the last strand, waving it over the tip of his right ear and you leaned back against the counter to inspect your work.

It was his expression that faltered you now, an absent fondness that stared deep into your gaze when you met the very things that could rival any planetarium and you stuttered, “I-I think I’m done?”

“It looks good,” Jeongguk leaned forward to confirm, squinting at himself in the mirror, fixing a few strands to his liking and then he added a bit slower, “We can practice…”

A squeak left your lips and you went to cover your face because we can practice meant it wasn’t that good, but you weren’t allowed to wallow in it for long when two hands wrapped around your wrists, prying your cover away and drawing you closer until you were all but leaning over Jeongguk.

“It’s okay,” More absent swiping to your knuckles and the freckle on the center of his bottom lip prominent when dimples pressed into his cheeks, “Ready?”

You let yourself smile, “You’re the model here, Guk.”

His headshots developed instantly and were sprawled in massive print sizes on the grain of Jimin’s desk, a glaring documentation of Jeongguk’s first professional shoot, your first time curling his hair, and the endearing little smile he allowed to adorn a sliver of his teeth. But even if you found it endearing, Park Jimin’s cross expression seemed to suggest the opposite.

“Are these the ones you chose?” He mused, dragging a finger across the thing white space framing one of the photos. It was a pre-teeth smile, pulled lip dimpling the freckle on his chin, nose a second away from wrinkling at you flipping him off behind the scenes.

Jeongguk considered his affirmation as a failure and it showed in the way it slid off his tongue, “...yes?”

Another handful of heartbeats into Jimin’s silence and Jeongguk uttered, “I mean...uh. T-they probably would look a little better if you’d adjust your umbrella lights. Or, you know, purchase new ones. They seem to be out of date. And are worsening the contrast—”

A second longer and Jimin shrugged, effectively cutting off Jeongguk’s rambles, and he gripped the edge of the photograph instead, sliding it into a neat pile with the others. They were quickly slipped into a folder, one he passed aside to make room for intertwined fingers in the center of his desk.

“They’ll suffice for now,” Thin eyes studied you fully now, disregarding the hunch of Jeongguk’s shoulders in the chair next to you, snake like black peering out from beyond bleached blonde fringe, “...can I ask who you are?”

“His stylist.”

“Name?” You uttered it and Jimin nodded, leaning back into the plush back of his chair. “So is there a reason you’re here…?”

“I think I’ll need to know about Jeongguk’s future endeavors here if I’m going to, essentially, be responsible for his look—” You ignored the dry texture cracking at your tongue on the roof of your mouth with each new syllable, all the moisture instead clamming your palms that roughed out of sight on your thighs, “—don’t you think?”

He seemed impressed with that answer, two hands threading at the nape of his neck to let plush lips quirk with the raise of one eyebrow. “I think you may be correct,” Jimin drawled slowly, “You may stay.”

You bit down the sarcastic thanks for the permission because he was done targeting you, testing you, instead focusing his attention back on Jeongguk. The man fell forward again, dragging his chair closer with two hands between the languid part of his thighs before they transferred to rest on the round, plastic arms.

“It’s a relatively simple internship. We already have you booked for some very specific shoots for our advertisements and the main magazine alike. I’ll email you a calendar, but for now—” Fluffy blonde locks disappeared from view before he resurfaced with a highlighted piece of paper in hand, slapping it the table and pushing it until it fluttered at Jeongguk. “—you’ll see your shoots highlighted in pink. Anything else you need to attend is in yellow. Meetings, check ins, things of that nature.”

Jeongguk still seemed like a fish out of water so you leaned toward him and questioned, “And the green color?”

“Retreats, bonding opportunities. Things of that nature,” Something genuine sparked in the smile on Jimin’s face as he glanced at you, “Seokjin is very into the team aspect of our company. You’re welcome to any of them, assuming you have the time between other schedules.”

Jeongguk still hadn’t spoke, drilling a hole into the paper, so Jimin took the social cue to inquire, “Any other questions?”

You were about to wonder about the glaring pink and yellow overlap for the Monday of the upcoming work week when Jeongguk spoke, firm and assuring as he glanced up.

“I understand I’m here for modeling, but I’m extremely interested in photography. Independent and contracted, studio and otherwise. The times between schedules, would I be able to shadow some of your techs? Just for...the experience?”

Jimin barely faltered at the hopeful fidget of Jeongguk’s fingers in his lap, “I don’t believe we have the opening nor the time for that kind of request. I’ll check for you, but I wouldn’t count on anything.”

Translation, don’t ask questions, do what you’re here for.

“So,” Jimin was still chatting as he pushed himself off his chair, back arching into a stretch, “We’ll see you Monday morning for the cover shoot?”

You froze into standing, the hand you were about to offer to Jeongguk consulting the chair you perched in as a vice as your knuckles bled anemic into your bone, “Excuse me...the what?”

“The cover shoot,” Jimin blinked as though that should be common knowledge to two rookie interns, “Seokjin recruited you with this concept in mind. You’ll be on the front cover of the next issue of Bloom.”

More silence that Jimin was unaware to, moving around the side of his desk to make it to a row of towering file cabinets in the corner. He had the folder of Jeongguk’s headshots in hand, filtering it with careful thumbs even when you uttered a half octave softer, “Can we know what the concept is?”

Jimin smiled, the answer obvious as the mentioned cabinet rebounded audibly into a magnet placed on the inside of black metal.

“They’ll be happy to explain it to you in your pre-shoot meeting Monday.”

“What if we’re doing all this—” Jeongguk winced for the fifteenth time when you lowered the curling wand to another strand of black, “—and it’s a shoot for my feet.”

You resisted the urge to accidentally let the edge of the iron graze his cheek in the unwind from the soft wave of his tress. You shifted where you perched on the marble, letting your thighs fall further apart for his waist to lean against the edge of the counter. With a hand on his shoulder, you pushed until his eyes trained on you, slightly sheepish, slightly shameless, entirely endearing and you sighed at the last attribute.

“You think they’d put a whole ass foot on the cover of Bloom?” When he whined, you reached for another, untouched piece of hair, twisting and pressing it to the heat, “Nothing else. Just a foot. Maybe some scandalous ankle—”

Jeongguk pinched your thigh, “You’re mean.”

“This meanie can let you style your own hair and look like that on a magazine that everyone on campus is definitely going to see,” You ducked until he met your gaze again, serious despite the upward curve of your lips, “How mean am I now?”

“You’re not,” He grumbled, glancing off to the side, “You’re the best.”

“Thought so,” You let the curling iron teeter to its stand on the counter, bracing your hands on either side of you to inspect your work, “I...think we’re done.”

You resisted the urge to scream when Jeongguk ruffled searching fingers through the front, letting the styled strands fluff outward in the carefully done part you’d established with a complementary pen you’d found in a drawer in the kitchen. He arm fell limply to his side, latter tucked firmly in the unzipped pocket of his joggers and he looked at you from the winced corners of his eyes, “Does it look okay?”

You were gentle in pinched his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning his head so doe eyes were peering at your from the center of their endearing glory, but your lips fished and you hummed in Park Jimin fashion, “I mean, it’s still your face, but from what I have to work with—”

“That’s still my joke and it’s not funny anymore.”

You surprised Jeongguk and yourself when you used your grip on him to lean forward, feathering your lips to the center of his cheek, drawing a natural shade into the artificial blush you’d rubbed in light doses to his skin. “You look great, Guk,” To amend the tingle lingering on your lips, you added, “Only be, like, three-fourths as nervous as you were before.”

He disappeared from between your legs and was six steps up the spiral staircase to retrieve his bag when he managed to choke out a less than threatening, “I’ll leave your ass here alone.”

You hopped down from the counter, shuffling through the apartment to retrieve your key still stuck to its spiraling purple bracelet next to your phone that set on a charger attached to an extension cord (fatal flaw of the millions invested in the apartment: outlets placed in inept locations) when you heard two footsteps behind you, a descend on the staircase, and then a long pause.

And then, “...do you think I should change shoes just in case it is of my feet—”

You were lost on one end of a long conference table while eight experienced professionals chattered on the likes of composition and aesthetics and ambiance and the vision of the newest issue, a list of words that meant similar but different things in the digital world with the manipulation of graphics at the tips of your fingers and you were more entertained with the aesthetic of the swirl of auburn color bubbling upward in your coffee when you stirred it with the tiny black straw. You were seemingly forgotten among the bustle that ended the meeting, a cattle like usher toward the singular door when the room was barely filled anyway and you found yourself hopeless in a room three times the size of the previous one with equipment you didn’t understand, more terminology you couldn’t grasp, and an entire missing Jeongguk.

The woman from your check in was back, bringing you your makeup back with a disapproving tut, ushering you with the heel of her palm on the small of your back toward a tiny collection of tables in the corner of the studio, a shortened version of the one you’d been in the day before, and you found it all but occupied by a new set of strangers.

You nudged the roll of your bag into the only empty spot, turning in time with the soft hush that met the other individuals milling about your general vicinity and you squinted because oh god, what now?

Words like alluring, sensual, lithe could all be replaced with much simpler adjectives, one in particular that struck bluntly at the forefront of your conscious, one you wished to express to the various shoot executives mulling over a concept they could easily direct in a hands on fashion without needing a briefing. You’d thought that into the swirl of your coffee and you assumed the cloud of cream that had surfaced, breaking into various puzzle pieces outward toward the rim of the cup agreed with you.

You understood why the bolded letters of various synonyms taking up a bullet point list on two pages of an outline, a waste of space and trees, was needed because your crude, one bullet wasn’t enough to encompass the entirety of Jeongguk’s being as he made his way toward you.

All eyes were trained on the rookie subject of the shoot but he was focused on you, a soft excuse me to the woman standing in front of you as he shouldered around her to tower over you. It was Jeongguk, your Jeongguk, but you felt some fraction of what everyone else did with him that close looking like that.

Tight jeans ripped in strategic places hugging taut thighs, cuffs buttoned loosely on relaxed knuckles, a sheer black shirt coated in metallic specks tucked neatly at the cinch of his lithe waist and secured in an equal V to the dip of defined collarbones. His hair was like you’d left it but frayed from the heat and softening from the lack of product, parting more on one side than the other and flopping into his eyes that blinked curiously at you.

“Hey...hello—” Jeongguk snapped his fingers, waving his hand so you felt the brush of his palm on your nose, “—did you hear me?”

The neanderthal corner of your conscious had enough sensibility to not utter what you wanted, instead bypassing his inquiry to all but shout, “Where are your other clothes?”

“They’re...in the dressing room? With my other things?” Someone yelled something you didn’t quite catch but the slide of Jeongguk’s palm down your elbow suggested he did, “Look, they sent me to you for a last minute check. Do I fit whatever concept they were talking about?”

Your subtly was forgotten, buried by the singular word that continued to expand into your thoughts, likely dilating your pupils the same way and the culprit of the saliva that pooled back by your molars.

Graphic design didn’t mean you were above putting size seventy-two Comic Sans font onto a document to print and plaster everywhere but even Comic Sans wasn’t worthy of whatever the concept was Jeongguk embodied. Nonetheless, you let the muted scream in your throbbing head takeover.

“You look sexy, Guk.”

He flushed at his neck first, traveling around to dip into his chest but it didn’t crack at the clench of his jaw this time, something lingering in the flash of black in his irises and his throat jumped, fingers curling over your arm and you briefly forgot where you were until someone’s stature was intentionally bumping into Jeongguk’s side, breaking his grasp on you to shove him in the opposite direction.

“Shooting in five.” You felt like you were underwater, coherent enough only to register you can’t see lightening under the sea (the flash of a camera) and you were fairly certain you’d been pitched off the edge of Atlantis when you came to enough to realize the prior five was up and they’d created a makeshift “wall” (a piece of plywood coated in white plastic) for Jeongguk (the, very sexy, “model”) to lounge against with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Part of Jeongguk’s shirt had come untucked from his belt, fluttering at the apex of his thigh, and it made your fingers itch to fix it until words of encouragement from the photographers elicited him to lift the arm on that side, palm smoothing down the back of his head until he found comfort in threading long digits into wavy tendrils. The sensible part of your brain moved to fire the necessary neurons to be annoyed that he’d just touched his hair again, hair you’d practiced on all weekend, burning yourself four times and the sheets of the unoccupied bedroom of the apartment once.

But the feral cloud in your conscious won and you chose to focus on the sliver of his waist that appeared instead.

You continued to eye it as he approached you again, sensibility pouting when you didn’t acknowledge that his sweat had smeared some of his carefully applied eyeliner or the lackluster gloss left on his lips wrapped around the ribbed edge of a water bottle, by passing all of those things in favor of his neck as it jumped and gulped.

Jeongguk pulled off the water bottle with a labored breath and the only thing familiar in his stature was the slight slouch toward you, gentle fingers brushing past your wrist to grip the table behind you and lean into it.

“Good?” He breathed, heat off his aura suffocating you and you wondered is the bottom of the ocean hot? too.

“Y-yeah. Yeah! Talented. Brilliant. Incredible. Amazing. Show stopping—”

He laughed and that was sexy too, shrugging into another languid gulp of water, pointed in stretching his neck out and he held the open bottle toward you until you took it. “As good as that Vine, huh?” His teeth appeared into the teasing smile that whipped away from you as he sauntered for the array of computer monitors in the corner displaying his shots.

You fumed.

“That’s a Lady Gaga quote, dumbass.”

Your knees, crossed albeit, were digging into the side of Jimin’s thigh and for a table to be so small in a quaint corner of a bustling rooftop restaurant, it garnered well over the decibels needed to make other patrons glance your way when a round of applause waved through the group.

It was Jimin who had elicited the reaction with the piece of paper in his hand, firm and glossy and making that distinct flop noise when he’d untucked it from it’s folder pocket and maybe if you didn’t have to crane from your position next to him to see the image splayed out over the front, your knees wouldn’t be invading his space. He didn’t seem to care, wearing a charming smile that flashed over the top of your head to the man most affected by the various interest levels of stares gathered from around the general vicinity of the restaurant.

There was a chunk of steak still stabbed through the throngs of Jeongguk’s discarded fork, meticulously cut by his focus that so desperately tried to evade the situation at any given opportunity. You noticed the pink in it before the pink spreading outward on his cheeks, framing the grateful smile he gave as acknowledgement before bowing his head at the audible emissions of praise.

“Quite the cover photo,” Jimin was still speaking, on the tail end of his reveal speech. He pulled the photo away to glance at it again, “And for an amateur on their first job as well. Phenomenal, truly.”

You touched Jeongguk’s thigh and it was the strength he needed to utter his thanks, soft at first and then louder as he addressed the other occupants at the table, “Thank you. It...it means a lot—” He turned and you followed his gaze to the one individual at the table who you’d yet to hear speak, seated at the head of the table opposite Jeongguk, wearing a black waistcoat and an easy smile to petal shaped lips.

“—and thank you, Mr. Kim, for this incredible opportunity. I-I...we—” He glanced at you for permission to include you in his speech and you squeezed his thigh in encouragement, “—we wouldn’t be here without you.”

Seokjin bowed his head in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, dropped the cloth napkin scrunched in his palm to hold that hand up in solace, “You’re very welcome but please, call me Seokjin. Before you ask, my father wasn’t Mr. Kim, I just don’t want to be called that.”

Jeongguk didn’t know whether to laugh and he wasn’t the only one so Seokjin tried to amend further, “Formality is outdated. Am I right?”

Someone, a marketing tech for the specific cover shoot, murmured quietly to sate the CEO, “Correct, Seokjin.”

Other customers had gone back to their previous dinner table discussions, returning the restaurant to the dull roar of before, and your table was no exception to the seemingly mundaneness. Ice cubes against frosted glass, the click of cutlery into glass plating, an occupied silence filled with content chewing and thoughtful swallows.

Questions to proceed the cover shoot reveal.

“What exactly were you doing before this? I understand you’re still in university?”

Jeongguk didn’t have to lie on that question because Taehyung hadn’t lied on your resumes. Or your cheat sheets, depending on who was asking. You’d forced him to sit on the floor in the living room of the apartment and recite back any and everything contained on the email attachment Taehyung had begrudgingly sent you again, from the way your name and phone numbers were ordered on the header to the exact digits, a forward and back recitation of Taehyung’s phone number (a series you’d, unfortunately, never forget).

“Yes, I’m going to school for, uhm...chemistry,” He winced because that also wasn’t a lie. Unfortunately.

You kept quiet because they hadn’t asked you. On guard. On call, maybe. Eager to recite your major and list of minors like you were at a family barbecue with cousins who refused to talk to you for three years.

An impressed murmur rounded the table in a wave. “Chemistry...What will you do with that?”

Like clockwork. “Med school, possibly. Maybe teaching. Not sure yet.”

“And your modeling experience—” Now into the flashcards once stacked in the need to review pile, “—who did you say you were signed with?”

“Ah…” His knife hit in a resounding rebound through the slab of meat he was attempting to dice into another tiny cube, “Well I wasn’t really signed, I just—”

“You weren’t signed?”

You swallowed because it wasn’t Seokjin who’d ask the question but the smile on his lips had wilted into the furrow of his eyebrows, two elbows hitting the table as his fingers clasped in front of him.

“The company has changed names since then,” Jeongguk jammed the cube into his cheeks but chewing didn’t let him off the hook as ambient dinner noises paused in wait of his answer, “It’s been a while…”

“Your resume says you’ve had published billboards up until last year. Were you not signed then?”

“It’s been a while since I originally signed. I had that contract for five years time and the company changed possession three times in that period. Who knows what it’s called now, you know?”

Safe.

Your on call button beeping eagerly in the forefront of your conscious gradually flickered until it was off because your lie wouldn’t be as easy. You couldn’t produce a selfie or even a fake contact that would ring to rap superstar Kim Namjoon. Even Taehyung wasn’t that good.

“Your manager, agent, whatever you have—” It was Jimin who asked this time, curious, “—would we know him?”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk offered up the name with little hesitation and you almost choked on a clump of parmesan tickling at your throat. The cheese convinced you there were a million Kim Taehyung’s in the world, the name not your eccentric, software engineer group project partner who’d once recited the HTML of the university’s financial aid office web page to you by memory and you managed to swallow down a gulp of your ice water, cube included, with minimal tears pooling due to your choke. “He’s our manager.”

The introduction of our caused eyes to fall upon you and blinked through the bleary tears remaining in makeup coated ducts. Some of the product smeared into your eyes then, worsening the tears of pain, but no one addressed you still. You just nodded to ensure they didn’t.

The end of the meal meant goodbyes and goodbyes meant brief instances of small talk with each individual at the table. For you, they were limited to thank you for the meal. For Jeongguk, it was a sentence or two more, ones you were in earshot of.

Seokjin came last, a soft hug wrapped around your shoulders that was awkward in the way that he patted at your arm. It was a firmer hand he reached for Jeongguk a firm shake in the middle of two broad statures as he stared directly through the haphazard fringe stringing into Jeongguk’s lashes.

“Congratulations,” Another firm shake that traveled up into a pat on Jeongguk’s shoulder, “I look forward to seeing more of your work.”

You trailed Jeongguk’s pointed trek through the front door of the apartment building, taking three strides to his normal one and you tried to slow him with a tempting, “Should we go get ice cream? We should go get ice cream.”

He was slowest when in front of the elevator, jamming his middle finger into the up button. “Why should we go get ice cream?”

“To celebrate?” Your toe caught on the small gap between the ground floor and the elevator, “They seemed to really enjoy it—”

“I’d rather just go to bed,” It was harsh in delivery but his eyes softened and his chin tilted down toward you, “...if that’s okay. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” You affirmed and as an afterthought you teased, “Beauty sleep for the superstar.”

His smile was a ghost on the dimples in his cheeks, eyes downcast so his eyelashes shadowed on his cheekbones and his head dipped away from you to stride down the hall, staying that way as he fiddled with the blue spiral on his wrist and pushed into the apartment.

Jeongguk was with you in peeling off your shoes onto a makeshift welcome mat, a plastic takeout bag from the Thai food you’d gotten the second night, before affirming again, less harsh and almost tentative, not to ask but that you’d say no and he wouldn’t get to complete his request.

“...it’s okay if I go to bed? If I leave you alone down here?”

“Yeah,” You reached to touch his wrist, feathering your fingers over his knuckles, “Maybe I’ll figure out the TV so you don’t have to do it for me every time.”

He tried to smile. It didn’t fool but you let him go anyway, watching mute as he ascended the stairs, sluggish and slow like his fingers fiddling at the buttons of his creased button up.

“Jeongguk—” He looked at you now, fingers braced on the railing, shoulders slumped as he turned, “—take your makeup off.”

“Thank you, baby,” A soft murmur that echoed in the silence of the house, “Good night…”

You tried the television twice and gave up on the third time’s the charm, trekking the route Jeongguk had made up the stairs but turning the opposite direction for your room. You saved the shower for the morning, pocketing your jewelry in an empty pouch of your suitcase, swiping a baggy t-shirt off the floor that smelled like your roommate, washed your face in the facet you’d mastered in three weeks time, tucked yourself underneath cool sheets, raising your phone to your face where it was attached to a looping extension cord plugged into yet another inopportune outlet on the far side of the bed.

A makeup tutorial that was less of a tutorial and more of a demonstration of the guru’s skill set elicited the sleep in your eyes and you’d nearly dozed off when another light peeked from your peripheral, one that startled you to lock your phone and squint.

It was Jeongguk, body language like you’d left him but pajamas on in place of his dress clothes with a blanket sanctioned over one shoulder and dragging against the ground like his sluggish footsteps. A pillow was clutched in his latter arm, squished against his chest with his chin resting on the plush surface, forming a natural pout on the purse of his lips and the wrinkle of his nose.

“Hey,” You didn’t question, the initial startle of your heart morphing into something fond and heavy in your ears that caused you to spread your arms, “Come on.”

Mindless shuffling was domestically mundane, tugging apart the made side of the bed, replacing the pillows with his, tucking the duvet at his waist and his blanket over his shoulders, shifting further into the warmth to let him drape a hand to your hip, contact, while you propped yourself up on the curve of your arm.

“You okay?” You thumbed soft strands of his fringe between your thumb and index finger and when he didn’t jerk away, you went to stroking the tresses between the spaces in your digits. It was wet, shower fresh, not dry enough to curl yet.

Jeongguk grumbled, voice muffled and raspy into his pillow that he mushed his cheek further into, “Just couldn’t sleep, is all. Your bed is comfier.”

You ignored the way his fingers fist further into your shirt at your hip. Carefully, you nodded, “You sure that’s all?”

He hummed again, a mixture of hesitation affirmation and the reaction to your nails scraping into his scalp. You repeated the motion just to hear him mewl and feel him relax, melted shoulders shifted until he was close enough to wrap an arm around the small of your back.

“The shoot turned out really well, huh?” Jeongguk snorted, the breath fanning against your neck and you frowned, “I mean, it’s really cool. That you’re going to be on the cover. Looking like that—”

“I guess.”

You went to scrunching his hair at the back of his head between your palm, “The other things we’ve been working on since...they’ll turn out great too. Who knows, maybe you can erase the foot modeling for something legitimate and credible.”

Jeongguk’s hair ruffled in your grasp when he adjusted his cheek on the pillow, pulling away from your chest to be eye level.

“You know something?”

You let your hand flop out of his hair to the pillow, “What?”

“I haven’t taken a single picture since we’ve been here. I haven’t even thought about touching my camera.”

“I hate it,” He continued, blunt with his nose crinkled at the bridge, “I miss it…”

“We have a day off in a few days. Maybe we could go exploring with it—”

“—and I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss school. I miss being at university,” Jeongguk blinked, a prolonged blink that scrunched at more parts of his face, “Okay, I don’t miss that. I...I don’t know what I miss. It’s...something. Mostly photography probably but I think it’s just…”

“...I think it’s just knowing. I miss knowing. As in having at least a sense of what I’m doing. Where I’m going. What I want to do.”

Your features softened into something grim, nodding when he glanced at you. His laugh was bitter as he held your eye contact, “In short, I hate this. I, frankly, hate that you convinced me to do this. I...I can’t wait to go home.”

“I’m sorry, Guk, I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” He breathed in, holding it, eyes closing, “Please don’t apologize. It’s been like this for a while. Me not...knowing.”

“I thought you were right. Money can fix a lot of things, like paying off my loans and tuition. But paying my tuition means I’m stuck in an unspoken contract of sorts with a major I hate that’ll propel me toward a career I’m unsure of but already hate, anyway.”

“The only thing I’m sure of is my camera,” Jeongguk shrugged, eyes open and wide and starred in natural celestials and a shimmer of tears, “and I don’t even want to touch that anymore.”

“I mean I do, but I don’t...you know?” His voice broke then, a glisten falling to his cheek now as a tear finally lipped over and you cooed, rushing forward to intercept him back into your embrace.

“What’ll make it better?” You held him with two arms around his neck, cheek pressed into the damp strands at the crown of his head.

“Don’t know. Leaving probably. But...I’m not going to do that. It’d make me feel worse. Quitting, you know.”

“What can I do? Anything? I already made you come here…”

Jeongguk pulled away from the damp spot he’d rounded on the collar of your shirt and the base of your throat, cheeks blotchy and tearful and he scolded, “I told you not to worry about it. I’m the hot mess.”

“Yeah, but you’re my best friend,” You thumbed at his cheek, collecting the drying tears, “My hot mess.”

You didn’t expect Jeongguk’s strawberry tulip bud lips to taste like salt the first time you kissed but you cleared the culprit of the taste with your thumbs while he pressed desperate affections into the seam of your mouth, holding you tight to him at the waist. You let him because you wanted it too but took his lull for a breath to cup his face, still working at clearing the fresh wave of tears on his cheeks while you hushed, “Not now.”

“M’sorry,” He apologized this time, a messy blubber through your tender touch, “I didn’t—I didn’t want to do it like this.”

“If I don’t get to apologize, neither do you,” You kissed his nose in lieu of his lips, “You can kiss me all the time once you figure you out.”

Jeongguk sniffled, “Be careful. That’s incentive.”

“Maybe that’s why I said it,” You kissed his eyelid in tandem with another swipe underneath it and you mirrored the action on the opposite side, “And you never answered me. What can I do?”

He smiled when he noisily advertised the snot in his nostrils this time, squeezing your hips, “Just be you. You’re the last thing I photographed.”

“You’ll always be the thing I photograph.”

You were halfway through waving a strand of his hair down the battery powered wand in your hand, an online purchase with your second intern check. It was a seasoned movement now, easier with his hair that had grown without cut since you’d been in the city. It was an advertisement shoot, a casual look that would be perched above bar codes and brand affiliates on the back page of the magazine.

“Crouch for me,” You paired it with a light smack to his shoulder, catching attention where it had wandered to a loose strand on the baggy t-shirt draped over his stature. Jeongguk was purposeful in being awkward, bending at the waist and the knees and he dramatically sat a hand on his thigh, cocking a hip out and sticking his tongue out at you.

“Better?”

“I can’t stand you—”

“Is it their break?”

You managed to maneuver your surprise into the jerk of the curling wand away so it didn’t burn Jeongguk, both of you glancing toward the new presence in the room. It was a frantic looking intern from the front desk, one that came and went on an odd schedule you couldn’t quite pinpoint but he looked two seconds away from tearing his hair out at the roots anyway. When the photographer nor the set manager didn’t respond, he took it as an affirmation, forward in grabbing Jeongguk’s arm to tug and motioning you with his free appendage.

“I guess it is now,” You exchanged a glance with Jeongguk when the intern scoffed, not letting go of the larger man before him until you were halfway down the hallway and an abrupt turn to another later.

“You’re needed with one of the head executives.”

The cover shoot magazine was set to go in print within the next few days and urgent around the studio meant they went about airbrushing the static in Jeongguk’s curled hair a different way and were seeking approval of the talent. You assumed Jimin was about to tutt in disapproval when you couldn’t see the smudge his stocky finger was gesturing to on the life sized image plastered across the center of his desk.

But you turned past the sign indicating his office and you almost parted your mouth to gently correct the frazzled twenty-something, help him out for something that was bound to be corrected anyway, but he paused in front of an office, that office, one with a name plate bigger than the rest and the only one displaying the company logo in tandem.

“Seokjin requested to see you personally,” The intern knocked but didn’t look inside, just propped the door open and gestured, “In you go.”

An excuse was on the tip of your tongue and you ran into Jeongguk on the way to express it but the intern had already coaxed at Jeongguk’s larger stature and you both were shoved into a shut room before your brain could even process that I have to use the bathroom on the first floor because that’s the only soap I’m not allergic to wasn’t a viable excuse.

“Hello,” The sheer size of Seokjin’s size seemed to swallow his broad shoulders even in the tight hug of a navy suit jacket to the definition of his shape but the enormity contrasted to the warmth in his voice, smile, and eyes as all gestured for the open chairs turned inward toward his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He shuffled at two specific sets of papers as you tripped over Jeongguk’s ankles for the same chair, catching and narrowly avoiding a spill of an empty piece of furniture. You settled as the horror set in of what sets of papers Seokjin held, stapled leaves taken from the same blue file folders you’d been greeted with on day one.

You were useless in noticing you’d left your ID badge in the studio, too.

“I ran your references, out of curiosity…” Seokjin bent the papers in hand at the thumb, “Tell me about Kim Taehyung.”

“That’s our manager,” A robotic answer spoke in monotone, Jeongguk’s blank gaze on the turtle paperweight perched on the edge of Seokjin’s desk suggesting the same type of mechanical movement.

“Your manager is a member of two seperate government watch lists for hacking low level search engines?”

Your eyes bulged and you forgot your role, “He is?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin smiled gently, “but he probably should be if he isn’t. He’s not very subtle about it. Between him and the conspiracy theorist…”

“Yoongi,” You breathed, “Yeah...probably.”

“You—” He shuffled deeper into his array of papers, plucking one specific piece out to slide across the desk at Jeongguk. You recognized it as a screenshot of his online portfolio, the chosen album one of fresh summer wildflowers (weeds, you’d informed him behind the scenes) from the summer prior, “—you’re very talented.”

“And you…” This time a screenshot of your commissions profile, various examples of your work scattering the black and white screen cap, “You have an eye for design. My layout team could learn a thing or two from you.”

“I checked with your university and don’t worry, not your grades. I don’t care about those numbers frankly…” He tapped on something on the top paper in his pile, “Your majors. You didn’t lie about those. Graphic design, that suits your passions, from what I can tell at least.”

You nodded.

“But chemistry?” Seokjin blinked, “I can’t imagine that fulfills you in the slightest. You said you plan to be a doctor?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk answered, quick and honest and for once he didn’t slump into the answer. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

“Can I let you in on some cheesy but true advice?”

More nodding, this time from both.

“It’s not worth it if it doesn’t fulfill you. Certainly not something so far in left field from what you clearly love to do. I said I didn’t care about grades but…” Seokjin cocked his head, a knowing smile on his lips, “Those grades don’t match someone who's passionate about their field.”

“I’m going to have to pull the cover shoot, for obvious reasons. I’ll have to send you home as well, with the rest of your internship pay, of course.”

You rushed to deny that in the same sentence that Jeongguk did, apologetic and hot at the neck when Seokjin held up a hand.

“You get the pay on one condition. You go home and do something with it. Something something, not just continue on with that boring chemistry degree.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you to call me Seokjin but I’m going to change that, too—” Seokjin stood, rounding his desk for a handshake that Jeongguk rushed to straighten and intercept, “—call me Jin when you book your first photography gig, alright? Even if it’s just your conspiracy theorist friend and his fried chicken looking poodle.”

Jeongguk laughed, loud and unabashed and you were the first person he directed his joy at, only causing your elation to grow tenfold in your heart.

“You too, after you design the new McDonald’s logo or something. I’m getting pretty tired of those golden arches…”

You thumbed at the tassel dangling off the graduation cap flopped top down on the edge of Jeongguk’s mattress. It fit Jeongguk’s head better than yours, so you brought it over for him to borrow so that the fight in the bookstore was one less stress his graduation checklist had to suffer from.

“Taunting me with that?” Jeongguk’s neck hinged over the side of the bed, blinking backward at you.

You glared, breaking away from the yellow fringe to crouch in front of his face, squishing his cheeks together to plant a chaste kiss on the exaggerated pout of his lips. One of many you’d planted on him after he’d met with his advisor to change his track from chemistry to digital imaging, adding an extra summer semester onto his graduation while he watched you take your leatherbound diploma in only muted jealousy from beyond the lens of his obnoxious camera obscuring the view of a dad in a Hawaiin shirt and sandals.

Your headshot, the original one you’d taken messily after burning your arm and testing eyeliner thickness over the same mark, was framed in his room but not hung, leaning against the wall where he’d nailed a hanger but couldn’t get the cheap balsa wood to center. You pointed to it, “Taunting me with that?”

“No,” He reached for you, grabby hands until you stepped into his embrace, allowing him to pull you down onto his bed, “I think you look cute.”

“I think you’re a sap.”

“I think I’m allowed to be considering you’re moving next week.”

“You’re renting a space in my bed in eight weeks,” You sat up to poke his nose, “We both lose.”

Jeongguk pouted, “Hey.”

You just grinned, “Hey, what?”

“That was the best part of that internship,” He marveled, blissful as his eyes shut, “Living together.”

“Oh yeah? Not the whole introspective finding myself thing?”

“Nope—” The fullness of his teeth shined even as his eyelashes stayed glued, “—the whole getting to cuddle the secret love of my life thing.”

“It wasn’t that secret.”

“It was.”

“Hmm, okay,” You folded your arms at your chest to prop yourself up on his stomach, “Speaking of secrets. Have you checked your phone?”

“Did Yoongi add us to another group chat?”

You snorted, “Check your phone.”

You huffed when Jeongguk used the top of your head to hold his phone, thumb flexing against your forehead as it scrolled, and you giggled when all his motions, breathing included, gradually stalled.

“Did Taehyung figure out how to hack email addresses too?” When you didn’t respond, Jeongguk peered at you underneath his thumb, “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I got another email from Jin.”

“Oh, that,” You grinned, “Yeah, I do know about that.”

He grumbled, thumb moving into action again as he clicked around, opening the email and enlarging the font to read.

“Jeongguk. I’m happy to hear you’re graduating soon and in something you seem to enjoy! It just so happens that we have an opening here in our photography department and we’re seeking someone with your exact credentials. I’ve reviewed your updated profile and can’t say I’m anything less that thoroughly impressed. If you can provide me with an updated, and legitimate, resume, the spot will be yours upon graduation.”

“Thanks for not spending my money on booze,” Jeongguk added with a laugh, “Seokjin (Or Jin. Just not sir. Or Mr. Kim).”

“Really?” You rewarded his face with a kiss to his chin, moving the affections up his cheek as he marveled, “They really want to hire me?”

“They really want to hire you. For real, this time.”

“But...but wait—” He stopped you with the heel of his palm into the center of your forehead and you huffed, “We...we just got things figured out. And I’m going to have to move closer to the company…”

You did your best to plaster indignation onto your features, “You really think you’re going to get away with leaving your stylist here?”

Jeongguk’s eyes bulged, hopeful but not following, “...what?”

“Grab my phone for me.”

He happily obliged in dipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans, handing you the device with a smile but deeply concerned, singular, eyebrow. You huffed, fumbling at the screen of your phone until you pulled up your own email, one you’d received two weeks ago and you enlarged the font to hand to Jeongguk.

He frowned through his intense scanning before whining, “Is this why you wouldn’t tell me anything about your job offer?”

“Yes.”

“...did he hire you to run the design department?”

“Not yet but I am working there.”

“...so we’re not getting that apartment back home?”

“Nope.”

“...are we still moving in together?”

“Absolutely.”

An extra silence and you could feel the gears churning behind his skull in the rapid thrum of his heart at your palm, “...back to the previous apartment?”

“I don’t think that’s available anymore but no. I asked for something a bit more our taste.”

“So we can buy real welcome mats this time?” Jeongguk propped himself up on his elbows, curling his stature so you were drawn closer to his face and he happily rubbed his nose to yours.

“You didn’t like our bachelor pad chic decor?”

He ignored you, “And can we build IKEA tables together? Oh, what about name our apartment, you know, like people name their cars—”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #fic: dare to begin #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S DONE!!

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lalahbug · 4 years ago

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Healing - Levi x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 1813

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: general Modern/Office-like AU. Mentions of depression, in case anyone is triggered/sensitive to this topic

Author’s Note: Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 12/03/2016. Revamped/edited in 2020.

___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person

Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut

Petra was picking papers off of ___’s desk, getting ready to fax them to her.

“Morning, Levi.”

“Morning Petra, where is ___?”

“She called off, but will work from home starting tomorrow.” Levi knitted his eyebrows together. “I know, she’s never called off. I don’t know what happened, though. She said she’d likely be gone all week and would like the form to start working from home. So if you have anything you need her to do, you can give me the paperwork so I can fax it to her.”

“We were supposed to have accounts meeting tomorrow,” Levi grumbled.

“I can give her a call, to see when she can reschedule.” Levi nodded before leaving Petra to her work.

Levi sighed as he signed papers, that ___ should be looking over. Petra, his assistant, had let him know about how ___ would like to work from home from now on. He could barely process the thoughts of it and why she didn’t want to come in anymore. It was an option that the company had, but she had never shown interest in it. What was with this sudden change, she didn’t even talk to him about it. Petra knocked at his door, he told her to enter.

“Sir, ___ sent back all of her numbers and let you know everything about the accounts through email. She also wanted me to tell you. ‘The best accountant in your office isn’t going to leave, but I need to be alone for a bit. I apologize for any inconvenience.’ That’s all she had said, but it seems like she got her work done faster than usual. So I think this may be a good thing.” Petra smiled at Levi.

“Get me her contact information.” She gave him a confused look. “I’m going to visit her on my way home. I need to know why she wants to change everything and I have some papers I need her to sign.”

“Yes, sir.” Petra came back in a few moments with the information he requested. “I also wrote where her spare key is, in case she can’t hear you at the door.”

“Why do you know where it is?”

“I’ve had to go pick up some things from her when she had scheduled days off. She’s in her backyard a lot, so she doesn’t hear the door.” Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Is there anything else that you may need Mr. Ackerman?” His assistant smiled at him.

“Do you have any idea why she’s doing this?”

“No, sir. Last we talked about anything personal; her family was healthy and her fiance was looking into a house for them.”

“I didn’t know she was engaged.”

“Oh yeah. She’s been with him for about 5 years.”

“Oh,” Levi said with a bit of pain in his voice.

“Sir, don’t feel bad! I know you flirted with her a lot, but I thought you knew she was taken. And you were just teasing her. Like you did in high school with a couple of girls.”

“It makes sense why she always declined me.” Levi sighed and looked down at the papers on his desk.

“She always said that she loved your persistence and confidence. That if she wasn’t taken, she would take up your offers for dates. Sir, I still think you should go check on her.”

“You do?” Petra smiled and nodded.

Levi pulled up to ___’s house, with his briefcase in hand, he went to knock on her door. After a few moments of silence, he knocked again. He sighed and moved the potted plant on her porch, removing a brick from the house, which was hollowed out with the spare key inside. He quickly unlocked the door and put the key back. Walking inside, he was a bit impressed by how she had styled home and more importantly how clean everything was.

“Ms. ___?” Levi called out, which was answered with a bark and a husky came bounding around the corner to growl at him. “Hey, you must be Tobi.” He kneeled slightly and held out his hand for the dog to sniff him. Tobi seemed to approve as he turned to walk away from Levi, Levi followed him.

Tobi led Levi to the backyard, once ___ was in sight, Tobi ran over to the edge of the pool and started whining at ___. She was floating on her back in her bikini, which made Levi blush a bit. He had never seen her outside of suits or jeans.

“Tobi! Shush, baby.” The dog whined louder. “I’ll drag you into the pool, don’t make me do it.” She giggled, Tobi yelped at her. “That’s it!” She laughed while fixing her into a standing position but froze when she saw Levi. Her face went aflame as if some tossed red paint on her face.

“Mr. Ackerman!” She swam up to the edge of the pool, quickly walked over to her patio, and wrapped her towel around herself. Levi eyed her body the whole time, enjoying the view as she did so.

“Hello, Ms. ___. I need you to sign some papers, mainly some new accounts, and the form for you to start doing work from home.” Levi made his normal blank stare.

“Oh, of course! Let me guide you to my office and I’ll change.” Levi gave her a curt nod and she walked back into the house, Tobi walking beside her the whole time. Almost to her office, Levi noticed a room, empty and messy, catching his attention, because of the mess inside.

“What happened there?” ___ paused for a moment before walking over and closing the door.

“Please ignore that room.” Levi decided to ask after he got the signatures. She opened her office door. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a few moments.” Tobi followed after her as she left. Levi placed his briefcase on her desk and looked over to an accent piece that had pictures on it, noticing one face down. Curious, he walked over picking up the picture, to see ___ in a cute sundress and a guy hugging her from behind. It was very endearing but it only hurt his heart. ___ took the photo out of his hand.

“Please do not touch my photos.” She placed it back down, making sure it was face down.

“Why is that one picture face down?” Levi raised an eyebrow at her as she walked over to her desk and sat down.

“Sir, you wanted me to sign papers. I do not want to share my personal life with you.” ___ stated coldly, it wasn’t the first time she told him this. This time was different, though, her eyes were sad. “Please sit, so we may get the papers done.”

Levi walked over and opened his briefcase, handing her a folder. “These are our new accounts, I need them put into the accounting system.” She nodded before placing the folder in a basket. “Then this is the paper form we need to fill out for your transfer technically.”

She took the paper from him, started filling it out, signing it at the bottom. Levi was looking over her shoulder, correcting her on the date.

“Sir, we’ve talked about this about 23 times. Personal space and not looking over my shoulder. I don’t like it.”

“Well, you put down the wrong date so it’s a good thing I am. Also, you didn’t fill out the reason for the transfer.” He noticed she tensed up before writing, ‘personal/family issues.’

“You need to sign this too.” She handed him her pen, he touched her hand and leaned over her to sign it. “Is there anything else?”

“How do you want to go about doing our meetings from now on?” He eyed her, she was clearly still wearing her bikini but had a t-shirt and jeans over it.

“We can email for the weekly meetings and we can do Skype or something for the monthly meetings.” She shrugged. “Do you have a better solution?” She turned in her chair to face him.

“Yeah, just show up to the fucking office for work.”

“I could probably come in for meetings.”

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Sir, I don’t want to let you into my personal life. Work and personal need to be separate.”

Levi placed his hands on her chair, trapping her there. “___.” He stared into her eyes as she blushed from him saying her first name. “You are an important asset to me. I want to know why my main accountant is staying at home.”

“Because I’m depressed, I have been all this time. Now, I can’t function and pretend anymore. I want to be in this, I want to learn how to climb out and I can’t make myself get out my bed let alone go into the office. But I can do my work from my bed.”

“What made everything go south so badly?”

___ teared up. “My fiance found someone else and left me. I’m alone now. I’ve never been alone with my depression and now it’s swallowing me.” A few tears leaking down her face, her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tried to hold back.

Levi sighed and gave her a small look, placing a hand on her cheek wiping away her tears.

“It’s his loss, my gain.” Levi kissed her forehead. “Let me heal you.” Levi kissed her gently, she only looked at him, with dismal (e/c) eyes. He glanced at her lips, then to her eyes, he kissed her once more. “I’ve loved you for years. And he’s a fucking fool if he won’t appreciate you, I will.” More of her tears started to escape. “You’re beautiful, even when crying.”

___ gulped for a moment, before finally giving in, letting all of the tears go. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Levi’s neck, trying to muffle her cries into his neck. Levi bent down more to pick her up, carrying her to the couch in her office. As he sat down, he placed her on his lap, before wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I’ll heal you with the love that I have harbored for years.” ___ rests her head on his shoulder, clinging to him. He couldn’t help but smirk. “I never thought I would be able to hold you, it feels amazing to be here for you.” He kissed her forehead. “Take your time loving me. For now, I want to be your support. Even if you never say that you love me. I want you to be happy, your happiness means everything to me.”

___ closed her eyes. “I still want to stay home.”

“I’ll bring your work every day that you stay at home.” She nodded. “At least you’re mine now.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You will, one day.”

#attack on titan #aot #aot fic #levi x reader #levi/reader #levi ackerman #fanfic #fanficition #lalahbug #lalah writes #reader insert #xreader #self insert

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softweebqueen · 5 years ago

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👋 hello 👋 I’m new so can I get some spicy sero smut, I saw that you did sero so I was like yess let’s ask, that’s if your ok with it! But thanks a whole bunch!!!👌👌💕💕

~ So I broke this up into two parts because I know I would never post it if I didn’t. So this is the first part and part number two will be up soon. I just am really bad at the spicy stuff so I need so much help from my friends. Also it’s like 3 in the morning while I’m posting it and I have not done any editing to it so ignore my mistakes.~

Fun Fact: Characters are aged up.

The lights were low in the hazy smoke-filled room. The reek of stale beer and burnt out cigarettes swirled around the air burning those nostrils of anyone who walked in from outside. Bodies filled the tables and the booths while music played in the background drowning out the sounds of their conversations. The bar was surrounded by those who had already drunk too much and found pleasure in harassing the bartenders. The occasional single attractive female would find herself sitting on a stool with a drink in her hand but would soon retreat back to her group of friends when approached by the bar’s seemingly endless amounts of creeps. Their hands traveling places where they didn’t belong and their mouths speaking words that no girl would ever want to hear from a stranger.

You couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you ended up here in the place you hated the most. Of course, you’ve been here before on lonely nights. Those nights were never as busy as it is now. You were unaware of the reason for it being so busy but you were forced into being at this bar by one of your roommates. It was a rare occasion that everyone was able to get together. Someone was always busy or none of you could agree on one thing. This was a difficult task when there are six of you living under one roof.

Some times you question why you chose to move in with the rowdy group that you call your friends. You would soon remember how convincing your best friend Mina is though. She was the reason all of you moved in together. The reason you put your sanity on the line to live with four boys and one other girl. There were perks to being in the same house as these nutcases though. Katsuki always cooked due to him hating how awful everyone else’s food tastes. Eijiro is surprisingly a clean freak so he does most of the chores. Denki was the idiot of the group which provided everyone with entertainment. Mina is like the house’s personal therapist and everyone’s best friend. Hanta… Well, Hanta was a completely different story. Living with him came with perks that only you benefitted from.

It started on a lonely night when the two of you were home alone with a cabinet full of liquor. Gentle experimental touches were exchanged that night. It soon turned into late-night texts when either of you felt like you needed to feel something. Your roommates began to suspect that the two of you were sleeping together, however, the two of you would very quickly deny it. There was a time where you were almost caught in the shower with him. After that incident, you guys agreed to be ancient history. Your agreement didn’t last long. The two of you were right back at it within a week, continuing your late-night fucks almost weekly now. He was just so… intoxicating. When you were with him with your bodies pressed together, it was a whole different type of high. There also came along the certain thrill of being able to sleep with someone whenever you pleased without the commitment.

“This is lame.” Hanta Sero grumbled as he sat in the seat to the right of you. “Where is everyone else?” The two of you had been sitting at a table waiting for your housemates to join you for the past hour. You passed the time by drinking more thanyou should have, however, you couldn’t stop due to the tall lean boy bringing drinks back to the table for you. In fact, he had just come back from the bar to place a drink right in front of you. You wasted no time downing the drink, feeling the buzz of the one too many drinks coursing their way through your system.

“You know they probably aren’t going to show up. It wouldn’t be the first time.” You pointed with a small shrug of your shoulder. It was usual for them to be late when all of you would get together. Sometimes they wouldn’t even show up. You didn’t mind the little bit of alone time with Sero though. He is good company even when the two of you aren’t fucking. He is laid back, funny, and has such a calming effect on those around him.

“I wouldn’t mind some alone time with you. It’s been a while.” You leaned in close to him whispering in his ear. Your lips brushing against the soft spot just below his ear before moving away. A loud familiar voice pulled your attention away from the boy who sat next to you. Across the bar was a rowdy group that you called your friends. The ash-blonde boy arguing with the two other boys. The short pink-haired girl, waving frantically when she made eye contact with you. Her lips were moving but the other sounds of the bar filled your ears. You watched as they slithered between the groups of people just to get to the table. Your eyes scanned their figures. If you said they clean up nicely, you wouldn’t be lying. Mina had to have something to do with it because there was no way in hell Denki and Eijiro dressed themselves. They both looked too good. Not too fancy. But not too casual. Just the right mix that made your foggy mind start to wander places where it shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry we’re so late! It was impossible to get Ei to change out his damn crocs.” Mina grumbled as she sat at the table, noticing just how many empty shot glasses and pints littered the top. “You guys didn’t wait for us?!” Her laughter was so light and playful that you couldn’t help but grin. Without her, you were sure this group would have fallen apart a long time ago. Maybe not fall apart but you all would not be living in the same house.

“I couldn’t help myself. You know how I am when there’s liquid courage around.” You admitted sheepishly as your eyes locked with Denki’s. The corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk. Oh, the hell you were going to put him through just for the sole purpose that he was the unlucky fool who sat across from you. “I do have to say that you look pretty good right now, Denki… However, I think you’d look better on top of me.” Your coy smile not matching the words that came out of your mouth. A brief silence fell over the table while all their eyes flashed between you and Denki. The table shifted from the weight of you leaning forward and resting your chin in your hand.

“Alright… You need to calm down and lay off the drinks, you nasty.” Mina scolded you, throwing a paper coaster at you playfully which you tried to catch but only failed terribly. It was a sure sign that you were a bit tipsier than you’d like to admit. It was the childish smile that you flashed in her direction that made her shake her head, laughing. “Well since we’re all here, I can finally explain why we had to come to this specific bar on this specific night.” She looked down at her phone only to check the time as she spoke. “Here in about thirty minutes, karaoke night begins and we all need to loosen up and enjoy ourselves!” The collective groan she earned from the lot of you only coaxed a devilish grin out of the pink girl. How you guys were stupid enough to fall for such an obvious scheme was a whole mystery.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night quickly passed by as the hours were filled with chit chat, mindless flirting, and downing a few drinks here and there. Your friends even convinced you to sing a solo but other than that you wouldn’t go up unless one of them was singing with you. Most of the time it was just you and Mina having the time of your lives. The time speedily approaching the early hours of the morning. At this point, you were drunker than the others who sat at your table. Denki had joined in with you when it came to drinking, almost catching up to you but didn’t quite get to your leg. A large portion of the night, the two of you becoming touchy and flirty with each other. As this went on, the lean boy next to you only grew tenser, watching the way you acted with the blonde across from you.

He had stopped drinking a while ago just so he could keep an eye on the two of you. It was driving him insane. The way you would pull your bottom lip in between your teeth as Denki spoke to you. How you would lean in only centimeters away from the other boy’s face just to say something to him. All the snide and dirty comments leaving your lips. It was really starting to get on his nerves. Hanta Sero knew that there was nothing between the two of you that would make you tied down to him however that didn’t stop the jealousy that rose up in his chest as he watched your feather-light touches brushed against Denki’s skin. You were his plaything and he wasn’t just going to let some ripoff Pikachu steal you away.

You finally noticed how tense the boy next you was as you leaned against him, holding your stomach as you tried to suppress the giggles that Denki pulled from your lips with a stupid joke that would normally only make you roll your eyes. When you finally pulled yourself together, it was impossible to hide the smirk on your lips. It took long enough for Sero to get so worked up. You were unsure if you would be able to keep up your game with Denki for much longer. Of course, you loved Denki but you could never imagine yourself doing anything with him. He was like a brother to you.

“A little tense are we? Do you need some help loosening up?” You whispered and leaned in close to the raven-haired boy. Your lips brushing against the shell of his ear while your hand came to rest just above his knee. Laughter threatened to spill from you when you saw the stupid look on his face. He seemed to be frozen in fear. Neither of you had ever been very touchy with each other in public so he had a right to be taken aback by your actions. “Just relax… I’ll help you loosen up.” You purred quietly before laying your head on his shoulder, looking at your other friends who were engaged in a seemingly heated argument about something you couldn’t care less about.

Feather-light touches brushed against the rough material of Sero’s jeans as your fingers trailed up his thigh, stopping to squeeze gently when it seemed his attention was pulled away by someone at the table. You continued the conversation that you had been having with Denki all the while. Though you drug out your teasing touches, Sero prayed that time would slow down. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if your teasing continued to work it’s way up his thigh. It wasn’t long until all eyes were on him, mouth agape from the gasp that your touch pulled from him. Your fingers brushing against the tent in his ever so tightening jeans, the innocence and fake concern plastered on your face as you looked at him like everyone else only frustrated him more. Tonight was going to be a long night for you.

“Bro, you okay? Do you need anything?” Kirishima was genuinely concerned for his friend considering how Sero was squirming and gritting his teeth like he was in pain. The raven-haired boy scrunching up as his brows furrowed together, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. If only his friends knew the torturing he was enduring. How the feeling of your hand cupped against the bulge in his jean, applying light pressure as you rubbed him up and down, was driving him so far up the wall that he almost considered bending you over the table. He considered fucking you in front of all of your friends and everyone else in this bar so they knew just how much of a slut you are for him.

“Hanta… Do you need some water?” Your sweet voice filling his ears as he turned to glare at you, the root of his current problem. To prevent this from going any further, his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist as he mumbled something about being perfectly fine. He applied more pressure to your wrist as he moved it away from his crotch before letting it go and drop to your side. His head turning to meet your gaze, giving you a look that could mean that you were completely and absolutely both figuratively and literally fucked.

“I think it’s best to be the time that I go…” You rubbed the side of your neck with a small smile. Your friends now shifting their attention from Sero to you. Pouts forming on Denki and Kirishima’s lips. They began to beg you to stay awhile longer. Stay for a couple more drinks. Sing a song or two more with them. There were many appealing offers however you know if you stayed longer and drank anymore, you’d get yourself in even more trouble.

“Just one more song. Sing for us one last time.” Mina begged with big sad puppy dog eyes burning into your soul. To deny her request would be like denying a starving puppy a bite of your ham sandwich. It was impossible to deny her request. Even if you weren’t already drunk it would be impossible. The table teetered slightly as you used as an aid to stand up from your seat.

“One last song then I’m gone. Out of here.” A quiet sigh escaping but you couldn’t hide the smile on your lips as your friends cheered for you.

~ Heh. I promise the second part will have the spice you desire. It may not be good spice but it will be spice. Also gotta tag my favorite Hanta Sero lover @fourteenow ~

#hanta sero #sero x reader #reader insert #hanta sero x reader #mha hanta sero #bnha sero #sero #hanta x reader #hanta #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia hcs #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia

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heliotrope-journey · 4 years ago

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Dear vampire hunters,

The following post will contain information that many visitors to this blog will find disturbing. If you or anyone you know is affected by the issues discussed, please call the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA for short) at 1-800-662-HELP (4357) or if you live outside the United States, please reach out to the Crisis Text Line by contacting the appropriate number in the link enclosed. Viewer discretion is heavily advised!!!! Photo by Joe McDaniel on Unsplash.

During the week of September 13 – September 19, the Heliotrope Journey team had to say goodbye to Allgloss, who departed from us as a tester for deeply personal reasons that I would will not be disclosing in specific detail for the sake of his well-being. Let me stress that this announcement is not an error on my part this time. It is a permanent cession and we will forever miss his love and support. He will, however, be a spectator that will cheer us on as we focus on the fourth prototype episode and our future projects.

Since he was also the biggest donor to the funding of the series’ development, I believe that you deserve to know why I’ve made the heartbreaking decision to not allow him to return in the foreseeable future while also keeping in mind that certain details about these events should be kept private out of respect. On the previous week, Allgloss had a severe crisis at his home and at the time, I had my own issues in real life to sort out such as panic attacks I’ve been having during and after my shifts in my real life job so I unfortunately did not have the right state of mind to make time for him. He did not believe me when he threw me head first into that position to explain myself, which left me stuck between a rock and a hard place. Though I wish I worded my replies differently, I couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t have made much of a difference regardless. That led me to having no idea how I felt about all of this. The week got worse from there on out, but the following Monday ended with Allgloss being sent to the emergency room to receive treatment for his injuries and that description was the tip of the iceberg. All I can tell you next is that the last text he sent me afterwards had him double down on his delusional paroxysm, therefore, undermining every single apology he gathered the courage to tell me. I was having trouble finding it in my heart to forgive him before that, but I would have overtime if we stayed on good terms and supported each other since then. Long story short, I’ve decided that this was the final straw.

I have severed ties with him as a result of his actions and prevented him from contacting me again because I told myself that I was through getting involved and decided that it was best that his therapist, if he’s seeing one, should take it from here. A custom level that would have been designed for him as a reward for his past donations will instead be given to a close friend on Discord that has helped me tremendously with leaving this experience to the past. I figured that it would be the least that I can do for him as a token of my gratitude for putting up with me throughout our friendship.

Why have I decided to preemptively type this post? Keeping the unwarranted backlash that a couple of my role models have faced while in similar situations in mind, my deepest concern is that Allgloss might use the situation as leverage to besmirch my name on his YouTube channel and dismantle this series before it blossoms. That way, if I receive any flaming messages over this, they will be directed to this post so they know what my side of the story is. At the end of the day, though, I know from the bottom of my heart that Allgloss would never do such a thing. It is not in his character to spite anyone based on the way they see the world unless they are harming a vulnerable group of real people. He is a good man that fell so hard because he should’ve gotten the professional help he needed during that time. I ask you to please not send any hate to his social media pages in addition to his channel because he has already suffered enough and will need a lot of much-needed time to work out his issues that have risen from these events.

Edit: This situation is not so dissimilar to the hardships and mental strain that Rachel Oates experienced in a previous relationship. I didn’t go through the exact same thing, but the comparisons and signs looked familiar. These screenshots exist to add more context to this post and help raise awareness of what had been going on.

I am so sorry that you all had to read this sorrowful essay. It was the only way for me to find closure in the matter and in case you wanted to know why a prominent contributor like Allgloss has mysteriously stepped down. It’s been agony for me to type, edit, and revise this because I’ve been looking back at the good times we have had together that ranged from tossing around ideas for Michaela’s character development to how his celebrity encounters growing up inspired me to attend online meet and greets that have risen in popularity due to social distancing. Reminiscing about these uplifting moments that made Allgloss’s bond with me so powerful before made reading through his messages during those two weeks in September all the more tragic.

I hope you understand that we’re only human. We all make mistakes in our everyday lives and sometimes it’s difficult to move on from them due to the damage they may have caused, but it’s important that they should not define what our future has in store. Likewise, the Heliotrope Journey team and myself will use this experience to better ourselves and keep moving forward so this situation will not reoccur. I advise you to do the same so you don’t soil the present while dwelling on the negatives of your past.

Health and Happiness,

P.S.: I wish to thank the aforementioned friend for his blunt words of wisdom and Barb, a super creative cosplayer whose content I enjoy viewing on Twitter, for proofreading this post to make sure that the overall situation and mental health in general was discussed delicately. They’re amazing human beings that kept me afloat long after these events have transpired. :)

P.P.S.: Speaking of mental health, I’ve receiving heartbreaking news that KawaiiPixelArts lost her brother to suicide earlier today and will be taking time away from the team to recover from her loss. We gave her our condolences and we’ll keep her family in our thoughts. :( In the interim, we’ll be looking for a couple new artists to fill the void until she reopens her commissions. While I plan to contact potential candidates directly this time, if you’re a talented individual that would like to contribute to the series, please email me at [email protected] with your portfolio so that Sidiyq Qadim and I can assess your style. Further details will be posted no later than early November.

Sources and Further Reading;

https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

https://www.crisistextline.org/about-us/where-we-are/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ix_53ew3mys (Self-Care is Selfish!... apparently by Rachel Oates)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCWRQpfo4Q4 (We Need To Stop Romanticising Mental Illness by Rachel Oates; Skip to 22:37)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dV3dbb5gxt8 ('Why Many Christian Girls Remain Single' Response by Rachel Oates; Skip to 7:08)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6sv109Fphzo (How to Deal with A JEALOUS or INSECURE Person | Stephanie Lyn Coaching)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQWVJcNY-Ng (13 Signs Someone Is Secretly Insecure)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aHTHGjQ628 (Bullying Exerts Psychiatric Effects Into Adulthood)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=11S-E7GMZ28&t=1s (Johnny Depp vs. Amber Heard | The Full Story of a Toxic Relationship & Abuse by Rachel Oates)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzIDgEEg7no ( 6 Ways To Deal With Selfish People)

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svtmatokis · 5 years ago

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Jihoon Office AUP6

-Lets out a big breath- I’m not sure what to write here...it’s been so long that I posted that I’m worried you guy’s have forgotten about me hehe...I’m still here but with December comes lots of family responsibilities, work responsibilities and getting really sick...I tried to keep up with myself but in the end I think I kinda of run my self over so with that, I’m sorry >< Please enjoy the latest edition of the Jihoon Office AU!

Plot: You and Seungcheol have been best friends forever and as a favor, you agree to be temporary assistant of the one Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Reader x Jihoon

Words: 3279

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“Where are we going?” you asked looking out at the nice houses that lined the seaside.

Jihoon had disappeared early that morning to attend to some business with his father before returning with coffee and breakfast from your favorite cafe. He then told you to get ready and to put on something nice since he had a whole day planned but first, he had some business to settle on behalf of his father which was where you were currently headed.

“I just have to meet with one of my fathers business associates at his house for a while and then we’re going to have lunch at that cafe you’ve always wanted to try near here.” he said squeezing your hand that rested in your lap while the other held the steering wheel. “It won’t be long, I promise.”

Not too long later, he pulled up to a mansion which looked slightly familiar to you and you gasped when you saw the surname on the front.

“Ji…” you said turning to look at your boyfriend and he only gave you a reassuring smile.

“Trust me okay? I know what I’m doing” he said while grabbing a file from the backseat and you nodded slowly. “Do you want to stay in the car or come down with me?”

“I guess I can come down with you…” you said slowly, “It would only be polite after all…”

“Okay.” he said getting out of his car and going to your side to open the door before offering his hand for you to get out.

Hand in hand, the two of you approached the security booth and Jihoon gave his name before the two of you were lead to the front door where distinct yelling could be heard.

The two of you shared a look with each other but before either of you could knock, the door swung open and a man in his mid fifties stormed out before stopping half way once he noticed those present and you froze the moment you made eye contact.

“Ah, if it isn’t Y/N.” he said with a slight sneer, “My son did tell me you were back in town. It was hard to believe since you ran out on him all those years ago. I’m looking forward to having you as my daughter in-law in the next few months.” He then eyed Jihoon and instantly recognized him too. “And with the youngest son of Lee Financial I see...I can only assume that it’s all work and no pleasure.”

“Mr. Min.” you stated in your business voice but before you could continue, Jihoon cut you off.

“Mr. Min, it’s a pleasure seeing you again considering you couldn’t make our last meeting and sent your son in your stead.” he said with a slight smirk, “I hope your heart recovery is going better, Yoongi did tell me that it had taken a lot out of you, though I am surprised to see you out and about so soon after.”

The man obviously looked taken aback from Jihoon discreet but obvious call out but hid it just as quick as it showed.

“Yes, well my heart is doing better and I was just dropping by to see an old friend.” he answered quickly, “I must be going now but Y/N, I suppose I’ll see you at the wedding, your grandfather is most excited.”

“There will be no wedding if I can help it.” you said with your fakest smile and decided to dig further, “If your son had been able to keep it in his pants all those years ago then maybe we could’ve considered but just the sight of your family makes me sick. Now if you will excuse me.”

Turning around, you walked into the house and handed the maid your coat, being around your grandfather was much better than being around Yoongi’s father, that was for sure.

Watching you from behind, Jihoon gave Mr. Min his fakest business smile before shuffling the contents of the file he had in his hands around and proceeded to follow you into the house leaving the man to stare after the two of you with a slight glare.

As the two of you were lead into your grandfathers dining room, Jihoon pulled you back slightly to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not sure where that confidence came from, but it was extremely sexy.”

His comment lead you to blushing slightly and you smacked his arm.

“Would you have let him touch me?” you asked innocently and he shook his head.

“Of course not, had he laid a hand on you, I would’ve laid my fist on him.” Jihoon responded cracking his knuckles, “He should know his place in this circle. If he doesn’t, I would love to teach him.”

“Wow, you are nothing like your older brother...are you sure he’s the actual heir?” you asked right as the maid announced your presence which you took as your que to enter the room.

At the head of the table sat a man who looked to be in his late fifties, looking through various paper work in front of him and with a cup of coffee to the side. The look of stress was evident on his face but when the maid announced the new guests, he quickly straightened his back. He looked towards the entrance and a look of surprise took over him.

“Y-Y/N.” he said as he stood up quickly as you entered the room with Jihoon.

The air was tense, the two of you never had the greatest relationship since he had been trying to marry you off for most of your life but it was as if having Jihoon next to you made you feel more confident. You were no longer that naive little girl who was a student anymore. Instead, you were an established business woman who was working for one of Asia’s biggest corporations and in a relationship with the youngest son of one of Korea’s most elite families.

“Grandfather.” you said with a nod before looking at Jihoon who was holding a straight face but the air of confidence surrounded him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, “If I recall, you always tried your hardest to avoid this place in the past.”

“I’m actually here with Jihoon. He said he had some business to take care of and asked me to accompany him.” you responded nudging your head at said man.

As if he was just noticing him now, your grandfather cleared his throat, “Ah, thats right. Jihoon, it’s nice to see you again. Please have a seat.

“Likewise sir.” Jihoon said shaking the older mans hand, “I apologize that my father couldn’t make it today... He just thought that I would be best suited to settle this instead.” he took out the file he was holding, “I assure you that everything has been signed accordingly and the numbers have not been effected.”

Jihoon slid the folder over to your grandfather who began to look through it, “As well...there are a few other things I’d like to discuss…” he gave you a side glance and caught your eye, making you raise your eyebrows. “Regarding your granddaughter.”

This caught his attention quickly as well as yours and you could feel Jihoon squeeze your hand under the table as if telling you to trust him.

“What about her?” your grandfather asked automatically, as far as his sources had told him, you and Jihoon were simply co workers who worked for Choi Industries and had maintained a professional relationship. But little did he know, Jihoon was about to kill those assumptions.

“It has come to my attention that you have been trying to marry her off to the highest bidder with the promise of a fine dowry.” Jihoon started as your grandfathers eyes widened, “As you know, it’s really no secret in our circles that the Mins have been trying to merge your families for quite sometime now and there are other families who also have an eye on that dowry, am I correct?”

Your grandfather nodded as he shot you a look but you avoided his gaze, you had a hunch as to what Jihoon was getting at and you didn’t want to say anything. You had promised Jihoon before that you would stay with him no matter what and this must’ve been his way of getting a point across.

“As you recall, my brother is set to take over Lee Financial once my father decides to retire...on top of that, I will eventually take over the CFO position of Choi Industries at some point on so it’s safe to say that my family has established themselves quiet well over the years don’t you think?”

Your grandfather nodded wondering where Jihoon was going with this. That was until he saw the one piece of paper under all the financial reports that Jihoon’s father had taken care of for him and his eyes widened at the two signatures at the bottom.

“You want to marry Y/N?” he asked with a slight gasp as Jihoon simply nodded.

“I’ve discussed with my father and brother as a matter of fact and they both agree that Y/N would make a great asset to the family. She attended a prestigious�� university, graduated top of her class and has worked with a few of the biggest corporations in Europe. On top of that, she’s now a manager with Choi Industries.” Jihoon explained, “As you can see, both my brother and father have signed the contract with their blessing.”

Your grandfather skimmed the document silently as Jihoon kept his cool demeanor. He leaned forward to look between the two of you and eyed you specifically.

“And what makes you think that I would approve of you?” he asked, though his eyes remained on you. He wanted to see how you would react to this whole thing and he was slightly shocked to see that you were calm throughout this process though you really had Jihoon to thank for that. His presence alone assured that you were going to be alright and that you had nothing to worry about “For all I know, this could be another set up like with the Chois.”

“Considering the fact that I saved your granddaughter from the Min’s attack upon her return to Korea, she has also been under my protection since then and as you know, outside of financials, our family also has a high influence within the securities sector worldwide. Truth be told, it is because of our family and not that Choi’s, that your daughter and son-in law have yet to be found my the Mins.” Jihoon answered and you gasped, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Jihoons family was actually the ones who were looking after your parents and not Seungcheols? Is this why the Min’s have yet to catch up to your parents, wherever they were?

The statement seemed to catch your grandfather off guard as well since his eyes widened at the mention of his daughter whom he hadn’t seen in years.

“Min Yoongi is currently in the States looking for them himself since your little contract stated that as long as Y/N’s parents sign the contract, she maybe wed to whomever.” Jihoon grinned as he leaned forward, letting go of your hand so he could fold his hands in front of him, “Unfortunately for him, I have no intentions of letting your daughter do such thing. I know about the relationship that Y/N had with Yoongi once upon a time and I know that he has proof to make them believe that he and Y/N are together. Unfortunately, I can’t let that happen. To make it simple, I have every intention of keeping Y/N to myself.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” he asked suddenly, though you were here with Jihoon today, it did not look like anything more than a business gathering and he was interested to see how Jihoon would respond.

“I’ve been courting Y/N since her return to Korea without anyones knowledge” Jihoon stated bluntly and you felt the blush creep up your cheeks and it got worse when Jihoon continued on, “And as of two weeks ago, she and I have been in an established relationship. I also have every intention of making her my wife.”

“How can I believe that?” your grandfather asked with a slight chuckle, “I’ve had my men follow Y/N throughout her time here and no one has brought up the fact that she is in a relationship.”

“You are aware sir, that the men you have employed belong to my family. Of course they wouldn’t report about their bosses son.” Jihoon smirked, “Since Y/N was attacked, she’s been living with me.”

If they could, your grandfathers eyes widened even more. “Is this true Y/N?” he asked wondering how his men could let something like this slip.

“What he says is true Grandfather.” you confirmed, “Jihoon has been the perfect gentleman upon my return and if it weren’t for him, I may not be in this state I’m in right now.”

“And do you love him?” he asked skeptically as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s only been two weeks since we’ve established our relationship. I could very well love him and not know it yet.” you let out a sigh, “I’m not that unconfident child you think I am anymore, Grandfather. With all due respect...I’d like to choose the man I marry and not base it off on an inheritance that almost every upper class family is after.”

Looking at you carefully, your Grandfather leaned back in his chair with crossed arms and let out a small huff. Your posture didn’t falter after your statement and he could see that Jihoon was completely unaffected by your statement so it was obvious he wasn’t after the dowry, if anything he seemed to give off a more confident energy.

“Very well.” he said after a small silence, “When Jihoon purposes to you, then I will sign the contract and make the official announcement.”

“I would rather have the contract between our family’s done now.” Jihoon stated pushing the document forward before giving you a small smile, “Afterall, it’s not a matter of when I propose...its a matter of how.”

“It will also get the Min’s off your back.” you said finally understanding Jihoons purpose in all this once you got to skim the contract since you had to sign it as well.

There were a few amendments to it done by the Lee’s lawyer and you could see the signature marks where they were acknowledged and they were mainly under the financials and security sections.

“Once the contract is signed, everything will be able to take effect. The Min’s have been trying to up their name in our society for years and using untasteful tactics including blackmailing your family.” Jihoon stated making your Grandfather gasp.

“You know about that?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

Jihoon nodded, “Of course, we do help you with your financials and we can see why your numbers have been in slight decline as of late, so we asked our team to dig further. Those reports have been included in the file that I’ve brought with me today. If you’d like, you can take the time to reread the reports today and you can sign the contracts when you’re ready, I’m sure Y/N would be okay with signing them today.”

“Hand me the pen.” you said with a small grin as Jihoon did just that and within seconds, your name was on the contract. Pushing it forward towards your grandfather, you gave him a small smile. “You can sign it whenever you want...take as much time as you need..”

“Jihoon, do you mind if I have a word with my Granddaughter in private? It won’t take long.” he promised as Jihoon nodded.

“Of course.” Jihoon answered standing up and leaned down to kiss the crown of your head before whispering, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

You looked up at him with a smile as he nuzzled his nose against yours, “Okay.”

Once Jihoon was out of the room, your Grandfather couldn’t help but see the happiness radiating off of you and he couldn’t believe it.

“You’ve really changed throughout the years Y/N.” he said with a soft smile, “I was surprised to see that you decided to return to Korea so suddenly.”

“Yoongi runs most of his family State side corporations and it was only a matter of time till he tried to reach out. I figured it would be easier to face my demons head on instead of hiding.” you explained, “I didn’t even reach out to Seungcheol till I returned and settled in.”

“Ah yes...your ex-fiance. How is he?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Same old, same old. He’s set to take over his father once he retires in about five years. After that, he will find himself a suitable bride.” you responded, “But this obviously isn’t about him now is it?”

“No, it’s about you…” your grandfather said with a small nod, “Are you happy with Mr. Lee?”

“I wouldn’t be with him if I wasn’t. Fortunately, I am capable of finding my own happiness.” you responded with a soft smile, “I wouldn’t want to be betrothed to anyone else.”

“And what if I were to say no and agree to marry you off to the Mins?” he questioned and you were completely expecting this question.

“I would rebel and if Jihoon loves me the way I think he does, he would use all his power to fight against it as well.” you responded automatically, “Nothing you say will leave Jihoon. Your condition was that I be married to an established family by the time I turn twenty-five and I think the Lees fit that criteria. Another one of your conditions is that whomever signs the contract first has priority. It’s obvious that the Mins are old fashioned and won’t sign the contract till Yoongi proposes to me which I will reject over and over again.”

“And what if this turn’s out to be a farce?” your grandfather challenged and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“All these what if’s.” you said in an almost frustrated voice, “Listen, I will marry Jihoon whether you sign the contract or not. The amendments in the contract state that no one can mess with the family once Jihoon and I are betrothed and that includes the Mins and it will take effect once it’s filed with our lawyers. But if you don’t sign it, I will marry Jihoon and the Min’s will continuously harass YOUR family because of what they lost.”

You got up and picked up your bag, “I feel like I don’t have to explain this further so if you need me, feel free to contact me through the Choi office but Jihoon and I do have plans today so I must get going.”

With your last statement, you quickly left the dining room in a frustrated manner, right past Jihoon and out the front door leaving both him and your grandfather to stare after you in shock.

With an awkward bow through the crack of the door to your grandfather, Jihoon got your coats from the maid and made his way out the front door where he saw you leaning against the passenger side of his car with a frustrated look on your face.

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gunpan48 · 4 years ago

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3m Safety And Security Reading Glasses

Signs And Symptoms Of Vision Issues

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Content

What Triggers Ocular Pain?

Searching For A Reduced Vision Aid To Eliminate Vision Loss? Take The Irisvision Test.

Common Eye Disorders.

What Is Glue For Glasses Frames.

Nose Pads Keep Glasses Comfortable.

What Causes Ocular Pain?

Forty I made use of a fluid called acetone, secure the break and melt the brake with an eye dropper I dealt with numerous pair, and now I wear wire frames.The declines of acetone thaws the break comparable to weilding. Try several of the quick setting JB Weld, The rapid type held some plastic that the old standby JB counldn't. I glued it from the within to permit the adhesive to permeate into the crack as well as fill the space up, worked flawlessly.

Glass adhesives are commonly solvent-free, UV and weather-resistant as well as have an extremely high resistance to mechanical stress. If you intend to use the silicone adhesive on a terrarium or fish tank, you need to make certain it appropriates. Sanitary silicone, in particular, commonly has an antifungal impact of preventing mold growth in the washroom. This is obviously a wonderful benefit when used in moist spaces, yet fungicides are damaging to animals and also water organisms.

After I was particular the glue was gone from the delicate white of my eyes, I extremely gingerly blinked. I was overjoyed when my eye resumed without sticking itself closed, and also discharge a deep sigh of alleviation. I would certainly managed to adhesive the light bulb owner back with each other, and additionally glue the tube to my fingers.

Looking For A Reduced Vision Help To Fight Vision Loss? Take The Irisvision Trial.

As the name implies, the Devcon 2-Ton epoxy is made for very sturdy use. It has great impact toughness, is non-shrinking, as well as keeps good clarity once it dries out. Other than being water resistant, it was also formulated to stand up to solvents, fuel, oil, mineral spirits, and anti-freeze.

Nevertheless, this is not your perfect epoxy if you remain in a hurry. The Devcon 2-Ton Epoxy has an exceptionally lengthy setting time of 20 mins, with complete treating just expected after about 12 hours. The E6000 was specifically formulated with craft-making in mind. In spite of its stamina, it preserves a good action of versatility when dry. It is clear and also is easily paintable, so it should not detract from the aesthetics of your crafts.

Art Bell once glued his lips virtually together obtaining the cap off with his teeth throughout a break. When he came back on after the break a humorous event occurred live to us radio audiences in the millions. Being a significant fan of Ghost Peppers, I've gotten powder or oil in my eyes more than a couple of times. Yet not so chilli pepper, which as soon as resulted in a blind rescue trip to medical facility as well as an eye spot for a number of weeks. I take place to keep my superglue in the shower room purposefully-- appropriate next to the plasters so that I can spot a cut from an airplane or a razor operating in the store.

What does OD mean after a doctors name?

An optometrist receives a doctor of optometry (OD) degree after completing four years of optometry school, preceded by three years or more years of college.

Robert's walking cane maintained falling over when he had to use his hands. Adding magnets made it easy for him to complete his everyday tasks without needing to fret about fetching his cane regularly. The numbers and also dials on cleaning makers, microwaves, ovens as well as various other appliances can be little as well as difficult to read. Throughout the years our neighborhood has actually made use of Sugru to make points extra visible and also also included tactile pens to assist individuals with damaged vision. It worked initially for initial two goes, after that the thin needle appicator came undone and also it had to be utilized as regular adhesive i.e. an opening as well as pressed glue out appeared in bigger blobs.

It's a pity that the secretary did not have some nail gloss cleaner handy. The non-irritant kind (n-Butyl cyanoacrylate) which is also authorized for usage on human beings, is rather pricey.

If adhesive continues to be after using warm soapy water, it will certainly usually de-bond within a number of days due to basic damage and also the all-natural oils in the skin. " Want to make fish pot, we have ten mm glass. Got good info with actions, thank you." " I am planning on crafting with glass marbles & half rounds & required information on just how to go about it. Thanks to all writers for producing a page that has been read 571,551 times. wikiHow is a "wiki," comparable to Wikipedia, which means that most of our short articles are co-written by several writers.

Repairing fragile valuables or cherished accessories can lead to additional damages as well as frustration if you do not have the right tools. Because of its numerous resistance to wetness, reduced temperature, and also different chemicals, the Loctite Professional adhesive makes sure resilient bonding with keep the optimum effectiveness. Exactly how old are the glasses you might be able to obtain them replaced if they aren't also old. I suggest utilizing a toothpick to use the combined epoxy to the glasses.

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Once the components are adhered, leave them uninterrupted for a minimum of 10 mins. Repairing glass can be complicated, however it does not need to be. A couple of easy preventive actions can make the distinction. The most effective way to attain enduring results is to plan in advance.

I've utilized a small old drill little bit, and also tight galvanized cord. A drill little bit can repair the earpiece, as well as the cord can be formed around contours in the glass holding areas.

The epoxy retains its strength in severe hot and cold as well as can be utilized for acrylic, steel, glass, concrete, and ceramic. Eliminate any extra fragments or glass fragments obstructing a perfect seal. If you do discover spaces in between glass items, select a gap-filling adhesive such as Loctite Go2 Gel.

Common Eye Disorders.

Top-Specs embeds in the presence of wetness, so this can additionally make it most likely the eyelids become adhered to the eyeball too. I then proceeded to delicately wipe away solidified adhesive from my reduced eyelid as well as eyelashes.

What Is Glue For Glasses Frames.

I'm a jewelry maker and it doesn't stay with my pearls or crystals - as anticipated - as I use it for glueing knots on stretch string. I've stated, yes, permanently value, as it had not been also pricey for needle application adhesive - yet if only it worked effectively - maybe I had a dud one. I make my own sterling silver wire wrapped Sea Glass as well as Gemstones. This glue is amazingly solid and dries out clear which is excellent.

The worst little bit was what got under my eylid the unpleasant effect was quiet undesirable, took a trip to the doctor to have it cleaned out, fortunately no permenant damages. This certain little girl has offered me numerous terrific tales like securing the "Care construction zone" sign by running over it with her auto. She came home with the best front panel of her cars and truck in the trunk. Since then I've used hardware-store grade CA many lot of times to knit up little cuts, and also it's remarkable. Maintains them with each other for 3-4 days and afterwards just peels/ dismiss.

Once all was tranquil, I determined to begin my research study into just how negative that can have been. This implied a briny eye rinse was offered, and also I purged my eye repetitively without blinking.

What kind of glue do I use when covering bottles with thread? I've tried wood adhesive, however it's not offering me what I want.

The lines of type get smaller as you relocate down the chart.

Your near vision additionally might be checked, using a card with letters similar to the far-off eye graph.

During a refraction analysis, your doctor asks you to check out a masklike gadget that contains wheels with various lenses having different toughness to aid determine which combination provides you the sharpest vision.

Your doctor asks you to determine different letters of the alphabet printed on a chart or a screen placed some distance away.

Most individuals will not experience unfavorable results from a short program of unnecessary anti-biotics, Stein states, however there are threats.

Start with a clean, dry surface area that is free of oil, wax, paint, or any kind of sort of soapy deposit. Any excess material, even fingerprints, may stop a solid bond. Taking care of smooth surfaces and sharp edges can be irritating. Gluing that damaged rear-view mirror or cracked wineglass back with each other can be harder than it first seems.

What is eye doctor called?

An ophthalmologist — Eye M.D. — is a medical or osteopathic doctor who specializes in eye and vision care. Ophthalmologists differ from optometrists and opticians in their levels of training and in what they can diagnose and treat.

After that some years after, I saw just how a mom used the very same adhesive in the temple of his very own youngster that obtained a bleeding scrape. Instantly the kid quit blood loss and afterwards some ice was applied to avoid swelling, however later the child was allright runing everywhere again. some days later I reached see the kid once again and he hadn't got even a tiny mark of the swelling. This mom told me the exact same, the adhesive will certainly left the body in a number of days.

To produce this article, 20 individuals, some confidential, functioned to edit as well as boost it gradually. Operate in a well-ventilated area if you are making use of an adhesive that creates hazardous fumes. Some silicone adhesives come in a cyndrical tube with a plunger at one end as well as a nozzle at the various other.

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We kept it wet to quit it from setting but however that did not function. It at some point came off with a combination of cutting his eyelashes, using a hot flannel compress and also selecting away at the glue. That was a really undesirable minute, however I was lucky and also just ended up with a cornea abscess and no vision loss.

These can be put into a "silicone weapon" for higher control over application. If you want to include mod-podge rather, that will certainly make it clear as well as shiny. Make use of some of the truly little bottles of industrial-strength glue. Be extremely cautious not to jump on your fingers in the process.

What are the different types of eye doctors?

Eye Doctors - Eye Doctors: Optometrists and Ophthalmologists There are two main types of eye doctors: ophthalmologists and optometrists. Confused about which is which and who does what? Here's a look at how they're different.

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Nose Pads Keep Glasses Comfortable.

Complying with that, I'll share some basic tips for when you locate on your own in a sticky scenario. # 7 Take the glass out of the frame and make use of the glass cleaner and the towel to brighten up your mosaic. # 6 As soon as all your tiles have actually been carefully glued in position make certain to leave the mosaic over night to make sure that your adhesive can entirely cure. # 5 Once you more than happy with exactly how your mosaic looks not stuck down, you are ready to begin sticking points into place. You might require to take off a few pieces at once to make sure that as you push the floor tile into location the displaced glue does not half stick an additional floor tile down.

I don't really maintain eye drops accessible, to make sure that confusion is unlikely, but I might certainly see another person encountering that complication. I could begin buying the bright orange containers of superglue simply to be on the risk-free side ... I was residing in an unpleasant shared level where somebody leaving superglue in the bathroom wasn't that out of the ordinary.

The lengthy slim applicator tube is additionally great for getting the adhesive right into little limited areas. I would thoroughly suggest this for any type of fragile glueing. You'll see an approximated delivery date - opens in a new home window or tab based on the vendor's send off time and also delivery service. Delivery times may differ, especially throughout peak periods as well as will certainly depend upon when your settlement removes - opens in a brand-new window or tab. Rinse your fingers immediately with a lot of cozy soapy water and do not draw on the skin that has been glued.

Spray with a sealer to guarantee resilience and also water resistance. As soon as the very first layer has actually dried out, adding a small amount of adhesive to a location will certainly make it wet as well as tacky, preventing your designs from slipping.Wait an additional 5-10 minutes for this to take effect. For large level pieces of glass, repair them in position with a glass clamp or an additional clamp specialized for holding delicate things. Ensure the busted surfaces are straightened and hold in place for a minimum of one min. You will certainly utilize the wire to reinforce the location on both sides of the break.

Take care using any adhesive for seals revealed to extreme temperatures (over 180 ° F/82 ° C). E6000 Craft Adhesive can survive at any kind of temperature because of its commercial toughness top quality, which can provide you a maximum bonding efficiency. Cyanoacrylate "Super Glue" is the functional adhesive offered by Glue Masters.

If you desire, you can put a tablet computer or print out of a picture below to assist you draw out your lines. The dry eliminate pen can be easily abraded if you make any type of errors. When dealing with sharp-edged glass, there is, certainly, a danger of injury. Protect your fingers from sharp sides by masking them with a layer of clinical tape. In this way, you can maintain your haptic capacities without revealing your skin to unsafe fragments.

no matter what item you utilize, put covering up tape on your lens to shield it from any adhesive mishaps. These are a bit harder to make use of but they do give the best bond. Obtain the mixing taste buds and the little spatula as well as continue to blend equivalent parts of the tubes. It placed my mind secure when my child's eye crash obtained glued with each other. He was having a head wound glued up by an Emergency situation Doctor and some glue glided down into his eye.

How can I restore my eyesight to 20 20?

Keep reading to learn other ways you can improve your vision. 1. Get enough key vitamins and minerals. 2. Top-Specs forget the carotenoids. 3. Stay fit. 4. Manage chronic conditions. 5. Wear protective eyewear. 6. That includes sunglasses. 7. Follow the 20-20-20 rule. 8. Quit smoking. More items•

This can be performed with tidy water or a proper clinical solution, such as saline made use of by call lens users. Using anything to liquify the adhesive is an outright no-no. This will just offer to boost the possibility of gluing your eyes closed as the eyelids collaborated.

Hackaday presently appears like a pack of cigarettes in an international nation. You recognize, the ones that plaster images of malignant body organs and rotting faces on tobacco items to encourage individuals to quit.

This was quite standard procedure, so I wasn't specifically worried. However, as my figures drew devoid of television, the nozzle flipped a fat bead of glue straight in the direction of my face, touchdown in the corner of my eye.

From the outside with or without the light on you can not see the fracture anymore as well as it has held for about 4 months to date. Great for sticking little glass products; not so reliable on larger breaks. Moisten the glue tarnish with cozy water, after that carefully rub toothpaste over the discolor with a fabric.

I obtained the top of my ear cut while obtaining a haircut (blood all over!) and also went to the ER and they glued it back along with medical-grade CA. They could not have sewed anything so fine, and also it worked perfectly. One of the initial functions for CA adhesive was to close gunshot wounds during the Vietnam Battle. My doctor superglued my fingertip together after I inadvertently touched a running bandsaw.

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master-sass-blast · 5 years ago

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Questions and Answers.

*grins* It’s time.

TIME TO VALIDATE MY PARKING, HOLY SHIT!!!! I SPENT TWO WEEKS WRITING THIS FIC AND THREE DAYS EDITING IT!!! IT’S 13.6K WORDS LONG!!! I REFERENCED EVERY SINGLE OTHER FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN FOR THE CHC IN THIS FIC AT LEAST ONCE!!!

I’m gonna toot my own horn, dammit. I worked hard on this, I know it’s good, but for the LOVE OF CHEEZITS PLEASE I WANT THE COMMENTS AND INTERNET LOVE!!!

No summary, because that would literally give everything away --but I would hope the title makes everything evident.

Rating: T for language, implied sex, mentions of sex, nudity, mentions of abuse, mentions of angst, and a literal buttload of fluff.

Set after everything that’s been written for the CHC thus far.

Special thank you to @leo-writer for proofing this for me.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things

Your morning alarm goes off on your phone, pulling you out of your slumber and into a brand-new day.

You flail around aimlessly, eyes squeezed shut, until you manage to find the wretched device and shut the alarm off. You sigh when the bedroom you share with Piotr falls silent once more, then roll over so you can see out the balcony windows and open your eyes.

It’s a beautiful late spring morning. The sky is a flawless shade of blue. Golden light streams through the windows –Piotr must’ve opened the curtains when he got up, since he knows it helps you wake up.

Speaking of which, Piotr’s not in bed with you. Which isn’t all that unusual, admittedly. He’s a consummate morning bird, and often takes advantage of the early hours of the day to work out, draw, handle official X-Men business, or spend time grading and working on lessons. There’s been plenty of mornings where you’ve woken up to an empty bed and a text or two on your phone, reminding you to eat breakfast and letting you know where to find him if you need him.

Except there aren’t any texts on your phone this morning.

There is, however, a large white envelope on Piotr’s nightstand, addressed to you. It’s propped against the lamp, and your name is written on it in thick, bold letters –Piotr’s handwriting, from the looks of it.

And that is unusual, because both of you know that your tendency to overlook basic details of your environment makes leaving physical notes a bad idea; texts, on the other hand, are safe because you always keep your phone on you.

So, the deviation from the norm, plus the way the card has obviously been staged to get your attention, means that Piotr is definitely up to something.

You pick up the envelope and rip it open.

Inside is a handmade card with a picture of a little forest scene on it –you’ll recognize it later as the scenery outside the sunroom in the little house Piotr stays in on his art retreats—which further confirms it as Piotr’s handiwork.

You open the card and start reading it.

Myshka,

Happy Anniversary.

You blink, then check your phone’s calendar function. Shit, how’d that happen? It was last fall, like, two seconds ago.

I wanted to do something special for you today, so I hope you will not mind that I planned scavenger hunt of sorts for you. There are several envelopes like these around the house, and they will lead you to each place on journey. (I recommend you follow in order, instead of looking at random; it might be confusing otherwise.)

You smile broadly; it’s just too damn sweet.

And completely on the nose for you, because you definitely would’ve searched the mansion at random for the cards if he hadn’t told you to go in order.

Anyway.

Unfortunately, to make sure everything runs smooth, I will not be able to join you. I will see you at end of day, when you have finished your journey. (If there is emergency, you can always reach me on my cellphone.)

All of my love to you always,

Piotr

You have to take a minute to process it all; it’s so unbelievably sweet and thoughtful and Piotr that it makes your heart ache. How did I get so fucking lucky?

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, then read the line of text at the very bottom of the card.

Hint: Most important meal of day.

You grin at the card, then bound out of bed, course set straight for the kitchen.

***

There’s a plate of food waiting for you when you arrive –chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, fruit, the works.

The kitchen’s empty, but the food’s still hot. There’s no sign of anyone else around, so whoever cooked your breakfast –most likely Piotr, considering he’s not one to make others do extra work for his own ideas—must’ve started cooking at the last possible second, then booked it when they heard you coming down the stairs.

There’s also an envelope next to your plate, addressed to you in Piotr’s handwriting.

You get settled in the dining room –also conspicuously empty—with your plate, then open the envelope.

Myshka,

I think one of ways I am most blessed in our relationship is being able to eat my breakfasts with you. Whether we are talking about the future we want to have or I am taking care of you after a wild night, starting my days with you helps me put myself in proper perspective. Your positivity, resilience, and humor reminds me of what is truly important, and forces me to consider with which mindset I want to handle my day.

I have always said breakfast is most important meal of day, but I do not think that became completely true until I could spend them with you.

Love,

Piotr

You have to take a minute to collect yourself because holy shit Piotr. You feel caught off guard and overwhelmed and so unbelievably loved.

Before you can overthink it, you pick up your phone and dial your boyfriend’s number.

He answers on the second ring. “Privet.”

“You’re not allowed to make me feel soft and vulnerable like this,” you whine, making sure he can hear your smile in your voice. “You can’t just turn me into a puddle of mush with your notes and compliments, Piotr. I have a reputation of being a badass to maintain.”

He chuckles. “My sincerest apologies, moya lyubov’ –thought something tells me you are not actually complaining.”

“Not in the slightest,” you confirm with a grin. “I just… I feel bad because I don’t have anything for you. Definitely not anything like a scavenger hunt.”

“No feeling bad,” he says quickly, albeit gently. “Today is as much for me as it is for you. Trust me, I have had much enjoyment planning all of this.”

“I don’t doubt it, but it doesn’t seem fair.”

“It will be. You will see.”

You sigh. “Well, alright. You’re the world’s greatest boyfriend, you know that?”

“I do not care much for being world’s greatest boyfriend, just yours.”

“Well, you are my world.”

You hear him let out a little breath over the phone, and you know you’ve managed to touch the soft parts of his heart with your words. “Thank you, msyhka. I… I can only hope I am worthy of it.”

“You are,” you say with utter conviction. “There couldn’t be anyone worthier.”

He lets out another little breath, and you can hear his smile in his voice when he speaks again. “Thank you, myshka. Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“You should eat breakfast. It is—”

“The most important meal of the day, I know,” you finish with a grin. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“And I love you, dorogoy.”

“I’ll see you at the end of the day.”

“Khorosho.”

You hang up, then smile at your phone for a moment before setting it down so you can start in on your pancakes and consider the next hint for your scavenger hunt.

Hint: I could not hide anything from you.

This one’s a little more cryptic than the last one. You furrow your brow as you munch away at your pancakes, trying to think of what Piotr might possibly hide from you.

The trouble is, of course, that Piotr’s never hidden anything from you. Everything about him and who he is stems from his trustworthiness and honesty; his teaching, his role as a mentor, his art, his identity—

A lightbulb goes off in your head and you grin like a maniac. Of course. You chuckle to yourself, satisfied, and set the card down so you can finish eating.

You know exactly where you need to go next.

***

As soon as you finish eating, you head to the library –and sure enough, there’s an envelope addressed to you waiting for you on one of the tables.

Actually, it’s on the same exact table Piotr had been sitting at when you saw him out of defense mode for the first time.

You have to take a moment to smile and appreciate his attention to detail before you rip the envelope open.

Myshka,

At risk of sounding sappy, I think of moment we shared in here often. I had waited so long for you to know how I felt –and to know if you felt anything for me—that receiving any sort of confirmation… it was great relief, to say the least.

I hope you know how much I cherish every day I have spent with you –those we have been together and those we have not—and how precious these past years have been to me.

Love,

Piotr

You can’t help but smile at the card and take a moment to sit back in one of the chairs. I’m gonna die from a sweetness overload today, you realize. I’m gonna read one of Piotr’s notes and just keel over from how sweet and kind and thoughtful it all is.

There’s no better way to go, in your opinion.

You take a deep breath, do your best to calm down, then pick up the card again so you can read the hint.

Hint: you may want to get dressed for the day.

It says something about Piotr that he knows you well enough to know you’re still in your pajamas.

You chuckle to yourself and head back to your room.

***

Illyana’s waiting for you, sitting in Piotr’s desk chair when you walk in.

You blink, shocked. “What… how…” You stare at her, synapses short-circuiting as you try to figure out just how she’s here and why she’s not in Russia. “…Hi.”

She smiles. “Hello.” She holds up a white envelope with your name on it. “I was told to give this to you.”

Which is automatically suspicious –not because you think she’s lying, but because Piotr isn’t the type to have other people do his work for him.

And if he has his family here, that means he’s got something big planned.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally say. You gesture with the other cards –you’ve stuck them back in their envelopes for the time being—that you’ve been carrying with you. “He’s been doing that today.”

“That he has.” She stands, hugs you briefly, then hands her envelope to you. “Happy Anniversary.”

You stare after her as she leaves, then close the door before opening the envelope.

Myshka,

One of the things I appreciate most about you is your impish nature.

You stop reading and roll your eyes –while smirking, albeit—because of course he’s bringing that up, of course.

Whether it is goading me into spending more “quality time” with you when lights have gone out, playing in corn mazes, coming up with fun ideas for all to participate in, embracing your inner child, or getting back at Wade, your zest for life and good times never cease to leave me amazed. You help me appreciate the moment instead of worrying about the future (even though it gets me into trouble some times). I will forever appreciate the lessons you have taught me about living life to fullest and appreciating those around you.

Love,

Piotr

You’re misty-eyed; granted you wouldn’t call it “goading” or “getting into trouble,” but you’re genuinely touched by his reflection on your personality and what he appreciates about it –and has learned from it, which is going to take some time for you to wrap your head around.

You press the card against your heart for a moment, silently appreciating your wonderful, sweet mush of a man, before holding it out again so you can look at the next hint.

Hint: Go to the place where it all became official.

You frown. What the hell does that mean?

There’s a lot of places that have “official” meanings to them since you’ve gotten into a relationship with Piotr –hell, since you first came to the Institute.

Okay, think. This is your anniversary. It’s going to be a place where some sort of specific milestone happened.

That, admittedly, does narrow down the field of options –but not by much.

You chew on your lower lip as you mentally wade through various possibilities. Okay, this is Piotr we’re talking about. It’s going to be from his perspective. What goes into making something official, if you’re Piotr?

Your brain immediately jumps to communication. Piotr’s a stickler for good communication; he likes making sure that everyone understands what’s going on, that everyone’s had a chance to give their say in a situation, to express their feelings, to agree or disagree…

Okay, so understanding the situation, giving your say, expressing feelings, agreeing and disagreeing, in the context of our relationship “being official…”

You almost gasp out loud when it hits you.

***

After you get dressed, you head out to the property behind the mansion.

Specifically, to the tree that you and Piotr had sat under, later on the same day that you’d seen him out of defense mode for the first time; it’s the spot where he’d confessed his feelings to you, and it’s the spot where you two agreed to be in a relationship.

Official.

You step around the tree to where the bench still sits –and nearly fall flat on your ass when you see your uncle sitting there.

He grins up at you. “Hey, punk.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You wrap your arms around him as soon as he stands, then poke him in the ribs when he laughs. “Be nice! I had no idea you were coming! Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s cool,” he says as he lets you go. “Just thought I’d drop by for a quick visit.” He pulls a white envelope with your name on it out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Your guy asked me to give this to you.”

You narrow your eyes at the envelope, then squint up at your uncle. “What the hell is going on?”

“I’m giving you an envelope.”

“No shit. I meant –why? Why are you here? Are you …in on whatever’s going on?”

“Because that’s how it works.” He smirks and ruffles your hair. “Happy Anniversary, punk.”

You stare after him as he strides off towards the house, then sit down on the bench and open the envelope.

Myshka,

I think this is one of my most favorite memories with you. Though I cherish every single memory I have with you, this is one I return to whenever I feel sad or lost. I am not sure if there is good explanation for why. I suppose, to me, knowing my feelings were reciprocated is what started this long and wonderful journey of sharing life with you.

Or, perhaps, reason why I reminisce does not matter. I know I love you, and you love me. That is enough.

Love,

Piotr

You can’t help but smile; the confession under this very tree is one of your favorite memories, too.

Hint: Go back to our bedroom.

You frown. You’ve already been to the bedroom once; it seems weird that you’d backtrack your steps –but, then, you aren’t the one in charge of setting up this scavenger hunt.

You slide the card back into the envelope, jam it into your pocket with the others, and take off across the back lawn.

***

The changes are immediately noticeable as soon as you step over the threshold to yours and Piotr’s bedroom.

First, the bed is made; you’d forgotten to do it after you’d gotten dressed.

Second, your pajamas are in the clothes hamper, instead of on the floor.

Piotr’s been here, you realize. He’s still at the house.

Something about the thought of your boyfriend sneaking around the mansion to avoid being spotted by you and watching you follow his trail of clues makes you smile.

There’s an envelope with your name on it on top of your pillow.

It’s considerably larger than the other ones, almost stuffed to the point of being unable to close.

You open the envelope –which doesn’t take much effort, considering it’s about ready to pop on its own—and withdraw several sheets of paper.

Myshka,

I like to think of our room as our little sanctuary. Sometimes, in a house full of other people, it is easy to feel that you have no privacy, or to feel overwhelmed by everyone else. However, when I step into our room, I feel at home.

You feel the same way.

We have shared so many memories in our room, yes? Your first Halloween (and you telling me you wanted to marry me), taking care of each other when ill, comforting each other from nightmares, even just moving into together; there are so many memories, it is hard to count them all.

Sometimes, when I cannot sleep, I wind up watching you rest while I contemplate our life together until I can rest as well. I do think myself blessed for every moment I get to spend with you, but remembering such nights brings me a unique sense of peace and steadiness.

Granted, not all memories we have here are… pleasant ones. I think it pointless to pretend that our relationship has not come with struggles; every relationship has difficulties, and while memories of fights we had do not bring me joy, I will confess I do not feel any particular shame about them (aside from what my own behavior and actions contributed, of course).

We have had to learn a lot about each other and how to work together –or how to work with each of our family’s… unique circumstances. I know I have –from learning about your uncle (and struggles leading up to that moment), to arguments about responsibilities, to learning to not let my fear control me as it relates to you, or even in moments when you worried nothing would change or you were caught in an internal spiral, I know for certain that my relationship with you would look entirely different if we had not faced those moments together.

Is it wrong of me to say that I do not regret having to face those struggles (aside from what my own behavior contributed)? I would never say they were pleasant, but I know you so much better and deeper from having gone through them –to say nothing of myself; you have challenged me to be better person –whether it relates to myself, my family, you, or others—countless times that I honestly feel that I am better person for having gone through all of it. If had to chose between facing those hardships or never facing them at all… I would still choose to face them, even knowing consequences they bring.

I am more grateful than words can say for knowing you and having known you. I would not be man I am today without you.

All my love,

Piotr

You’re crying –and you’re grateful that you opted to not put on makeup when you got dressed, because it all would’ve been ruined after reading that letter.

You can barely fathom that Piotr is grateful for all the hell the two of you have gone through together; you know he’s not lying to you, that if he says he feels that way, he does, but…

It’s rare enough to find people who stick with you through the good times and the bad, but to find someone who appreciates the bad times and struggles because they were able to learn about you and themselves?

You dial Piotr’s number before you really even realize what you’re doing.

“Privet.”

“You know you’re the single best human on the planet, right?”

He catches on quick to the fact that you’re crying. “Myshka, is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just my heart’s in pieces after reading that letter,” you say with a laugh as you try to dry off your cheeks. “I just… I just wanted to let you know that I feel the same way. I wouldn’t trade the struggles we’ve had to go through, either. Some of it sucked, but… it’s worth it. And I feel like I know you a lot better for having gone through all of it, too.”

He goes quiet for a moment, then sucks in a shaky breath that tells you that he’s tearing up, too. “I love you very much, Y/N.”

You sniff and continue the –largely unsuccessful—process of trying to dry your face. “I love you too, Piotr.”

“Are you okay? Do you need me to come see you?”

“I’m alright,” you reassure him, smiling. “I just wanted to let you know how I felt. And to say thank you for sticking with me through everything.”

“You do not need to thank me,” he says, “though I am equally grateful for your staying with me.”

“Quite the impasse, huh.”

He chuckles. “Da. Very.”

You chuckle with him. “Alright, I’m gonna check the hint and figure out where I need to go next.”

“Khorosho. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. I love you, Piotr.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hang up after saying good-bye, then reach over to your nightstand for some tissues. You blow your nose, dry your face, then scan the bottom of the last page for the hint.

Hint: Go to the place where future finally started.

You sigh as you stare down at the line of text. What the fuck? Okay, okay, think like Piotr. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Protein bars. Four or five moments. Language, please.

You snicker to yourself, amused, then buckle down on figuring out what the hint means.

The phrase “finally started” seems to imply some sort of beginning –maybe a milestone or goal of sorts—that couldn’t –or wouldn’t—get going for some sort of reason. So, a milestone or goal in your relationship that was a frustratingly long time coming… a location attached to said milestone or goal…

You nearly smack yourself upside the head when it hits you. Of course.

***

Admittedly, you’re not as sure of your guess on this hint as you are the other ones –but this is Piotr you’re dealing with, the antithesis of “pulling a fast one” if ever there was one.

Which is how you find yourself quietly padding through the medical wing at the mansion, counting off the rooms there until you find the right spot –the room where you’d gotten your diagnosis after the whole ordeal of getting hit in the head with Mikhail’s energy burst and recovering the repressed memories.

It’s empty –which is fortunate in multiple senses—save for one very blue, very furry Doctor Hank McCoy.

He looks up at you and smiles when you knock on the doorframe. “Y/N.” He picks up a white envelope with your name on it and holds it out to you. “I’ve been told it’s yours and Colossus’s anniversary.”

“It is,” you say as you accept the envelope. You gesture with your other hand, which is holding all the other envelopes you’ve collected. “He’s been sending me on a scavenger hunt.”

“Well, good luck and happy anniversary.” He pauses at the door as he heads out. “One of the healers will let you know if we need this room.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

You sit on the edge of the bed –there’s not really anywhere else to sit—and rip the envelope open.

Myshka,

It struck me that several points of our relationship have happened in medical wing. Between injuries from missions, other incidents, and aspects of your recovery, we have spent a great deal of time here.

I will admit now that I hope we do not continue this trend in the future.

You snort.

I know diagnosis was long time coming, and that we talked much about what it meant for our future, together and as individuals. However, I hope you know that my end-goal in our relationship has always been your –and, by proxy, our—well-being. I have always truly been happy to be your partner, whatever that looks like, regardless of whether you found diagnosis or not.

You smile softly and press your hand against your heart. I’ve always known, baby.

All that said, I am very happy you were able to find diagnosis –not just for what it means for our future, but for you as well. You are happier and more confident now that you are receiving best treatment, and I love you more every day as I watch you heal and grow into best version of yourself.

I love you and all your versions. Always.

Love,

Piotr

You have to wipe a few tears away from your eyes by the time you’re done reading the card. He’s such a mush. My mush.

It’s borderline staggering to think about how far you’ve come over the past few years. You went from being a kid trapped in their room to being an adult woman in charge of her own life and future –one who kicks a lot of ass, at that. You have friends, a family, colleagues, a job, a partner…

You’ve come a long way; you’ve got a lot to be proud of.

You smile to yourself for a moment, then scan the bottom of the card for the next hint.

Hint: go to gazebo.

You smirk. Well, at least this one’s easier to figure out than the last one.

***

There’s a little white gazebo towards the far reaches of Xavier’s property. It’s a popular spot for teenaged residents to hook up at –and also a spot that you and Piotr have shared a couple picnics at. You know he likes to draw there –there’s some good views of various trees and flowers from the benches in the gazebo—so it’s not surprising that he would’ve tacked it on the list of “places to have Y/N go on during scavenger hunt.”

What is surprising, however, is that Mikhail’s sitting on one of the benches when you walk in.

He greets you with a slight smile and gestures with a white envelope. “I was told to wait here.”

“When did he tell you to wait here?” you ask with a short laugh.

“Earlier than necessary.” Mikhail hands off the card with a rueful chuckle. “I am supposed to say ‘happy anniversary’ also.”

“How many times did he remind you to say it?”

“Seven.”

You make a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Well, I mean, it worked. You didn’t forget.”

Mikhail grunts. “I think I will not forget for next fifty years.”

“Sorry.”

He shrugs. “Could be worse. Anyway, I leave you to it.” He gives you a little wave, then promptly teleports away.

You shake your head –you’re still not used to that—then sit on one of the benches and open the envelope.

Myshka,

I know we have not shared many moments here, but there were two in particular that held enough significance that I felt need to include this spot on your little journey today.

You frown at the card for a minute until the “specific moments” he’s referring to hit you. Shit.

The aftermath of your nasty encounter with Dwight and the aftermath of the incident during the end of year school trip. Not exactly easy things to forget.

I know they are not pleasant memories, but to me they are important because when I was at my lowest moment, you were there to keep me from falling. You helped me find my sense of self and resolution to whatever internal conflict I was feeling; there are no words to describe just how grateful I am for that.

I think the reasons these memories stand out so strong to me is because I know you feel… you feel like do not bring your own merit to our relationship. That all I do is take care of you.

I just want you to know that you help me as much as you say I help you. You have helped and supported me so much in these past years, even if you do not see it. I hope one day you can see yourself how I see you: strong, confident, beautiful woman, with heart whose size is only rivaled by her spirit.

Love,

Piotr

You’re back to feeling overwhelmed and soft and so loved all over again.

You’ll never understand how you got so lucky; you’ve always felt so raw and feral around most of the X-Men, all sharp and rough edges and a little wild behind the eyes. Compared them, you’re a broken heap of junk, battered and fragile from years of abuse and mistreatment.

And then the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most decent man that ever existed came along and saw a person worth loving instead of a junk heap.

You’re not entirely sure whether that makes you a person worth loving or a junk heap, at the end of all of it. Your self-esteem has improved by miles since arriving at Xavier’s –more so since starting therapy—but there are still days where you can’t look yourself in the mirror for fear of what you might see.

But Piotr is honest, in words and actions. If he refuses to put faith in a person –or even consider putting faith in a person—then that person has to be the most despicable, unredeemable piece of shit to have ever walked the face of the earth.

And if he loves you…

You have to step back from that train of thought before you get too overwhelmed and focus instead on what the next hint says.

Hint: go to chair outside Alyssa’s office.

You frown. It’s not hard to see why he would include a location in reference to your being in therapy; it’s been integral to your recovery –to say nothing of your relationship with Piotr—but he’s always so conscientious about keeping the boundaries between therapist and patient clear. You can’t imagine that he would ask Alyssa to hold onto an envelope for you…

Well, except the hint says the chair outside her office. Not Alyssa herself.

You get up off the bench with a grunt and head towards the house.

***

There’s no envelope propped in the chair when you reach the area where the handful of counselors’ offices are housed.

For a moment, you panic that someone’s taken it –but Piotr’s more careful than that. He would’ve considered that this area of the mansion is open to multiple residents, and that placing a random envelope on the chair would leave it liable to be taken or get lost.

You slide your hands between the frame of the chair and the cushion, then underneath the cushion itself.

Nothing.

You frown. Where the hell is it? Did someone pick it up for me? Or throw it away?

You’re half-tempted to call him and ask him where he put it, but the stubborn part of you wants to figure this out all by yourself.

Okay, Y/N, think. If I were Piotr, and I was trying to leave a note where only one person would find it in an open space, where would I put it?

There’s not an obvious answer. Piotr is the antithesis of being secretive; even when he’s trying to surprise you, it’s still pretty easy to get at what he’s doing most of the time.

Okay, you tell yourself. His mom is in the mafia, formerly an assassin. Some of that has to have rubbed off on him –least of all knowing how to hide something.

But that doesn’t yield any fruitful answers either. The inner workings of an assassin are ultimately a mystery to you –intriguing, but not something you can identify with.

You almost give up before it hits you. I’m thinking about this the wrong way.

Today is about your relationship with him. If Piotr’s hiding something for you to find, then he’ll have hidden it in a place he knows you’ll look.

Okay. If I was going to hide a letter on a chair, where would I put it?

That’s an easy answer: you’d tape it to the underside of the chair.

You crouch down on all fours and peer under the chair –and, sure enough, there’s a white envelope with your name on it taped to the underside of the seat.

You pry it free, then retreat down the hall from the counseling offices until you feel like you’re a respectable enough distance from the space to read the next note.

Myshka,

I did not want to make it through today without mentioning your journey with therapy. I know it was scary for you at first, and watching you grow more comfortable with it and face down your problems leaves me so proud and inspired every day.

I also appreciate when you bring the knowledge you learn from your sessions into our relationship. I enjoy learning from you, and being able to grow with you is greatest privilege.

Love,

Piotr

You smile and sigh happily, feeling warm and loved from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You text Piotr a slew of heart emojis –and grin when he texts several back to you—before moving on to the next hint.

Hint: we got busted here.

Why can’t they all be “go to this place?” you ponder as you puzzle over the cryptic line of text. Why do I keep having to work for everything?

Truly, life’s greatest mystery.

Well, fortunately, there’s some strict limits to what “busted” could be. Piotr’s pretty strict about following the rules, and since it says “we,” that means you both crossed some sort of line.

You flip through your mental rolodex of times you managed to convince Piotr to break some sort of rule. What could it be?

You outright guffaw when it hits you, then take off for the jet hangar.

***

It takes a couple tries –the X-Men have more than one jet, because apparently Charles has untold troves of wealth—but eventually you find an envelope addressed to you in one of the cockpit seats.

You smirk and take a moment to savor the memory –the one time you’d managed to convince Piotr to fuck you on a flight back from a mission—before opening the envelope.

Myshka,

I admit I still do not understand your desire to have sex in public spaces –though it does keep you quiet, so perhaps there is some benefit after all.

Your jaw drops. You have to reread the first line twice to be sure of what you’ve just read, then let out a shocked laugh as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “You little shit,” you say when Piotr picks up. “I’m sitting in the X-Jet –Piotr, you’re such a little shit—”

He bursts out laughing on the other end of the line, evidently immensely pleased with himself. “I mean, I am not wrong.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re so fucking clever,” you continue, grinning broadly. “I am gonna get you back so hard. You have no idea. You’re in for it, buster.”

He chuckles. “Have you read rest of note yet?”

“No. I was too shocked by your opening. I had to call you.”

“Evidently.”

You can practically hear the smug smile in his voice; you roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Vengeance is coming, Piotr. I will find a way to get you back.”

“Of that, I am certain.” He chuckles again. “I love you, myshka.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“I do not doubt it.”

You say good-bye, then hang up and finish reading the note.

Obviously, there is more to our relationship than intimacy –nor do I think intimacy as most important thing. However, I do appreciate intimacy I have with you. Aside from obvious payoffs, I appreciate the trust you place in me. I believe there is something inherently vulnerable in sex, and the fact that you are willing to share that vulnerability with me says I am doing something right, in my mind.

Even if you want to be vulnerable in… strange places.

Love,

Piotr

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but it is sweet. You do feel touched. “Honestly, it’s not that weird, Piotr. You’re the weird one.”

Whatever. He’s the weird one. Not you.

Hint: We celebrated an anniversary and Valentine’s Day here, and planned our first date here.

You grin, then dart out of the jet and in the direction of Piotr’s art studio.

***

It’s not something you say often, but you love Piotr’s art studio. It’s quiet, it’s calm, and it’s so full of color and light and life that it’s impossible to not love.

But it’s more than that. Anyone who knows Piotr would know that his art studio is almost a direct look inside his brain. The way he organizes his pencils by hardness, color family, and purpose in little jars on the bookshelf next to his easel. The way he keeps his paints similarly stored, but in a drawer so they don’t get overexposed to heat. The way he keeps a few miscellaneous pencils and pens in a jar directly next to his easel, always within reach if he needs to start a new project.

Attention to detail. Making sure the space is functional, both for him and for the needs of his equipment.

It’s how he keeps his favorite, final pieces hung on the walls in perfect rows, right next to the pictures his students have drawn for him. How his regular desk is veritably stained with different colors and nearly overflows with supplies –they’re all organized, it’s more of a quantity thing—because he uses an angled desk for all his serious drawing so he doesn’t strain his back or arm.

He’s meticulous, yes, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that he’s truly passionate about his art.

It’s the fact that he has three wastebaskets for the room –one right next to his drawing desk, for pencil shavings or scrapped concepts, one next to the regular desk for random trash, and a larger one tucked in the corner for paint rags and drop cloths that need to be washed.

He’s practical –and a little anal at times, if you’re being honest.

You love him so much.

Ellie, Russell, and Yukio are all waiting for you in the art studio when you walk in. Ellie has a white envelope, Yukio has your purse, and Russell’s playing some sort of game on his phone for the two girls to watch while they wait for you.

Yukio beams as soon as you walk through the door. “Happy Anniversary!”

“Thanks.” You nod at your purse with a grin. “I take it I’m gonna be needing that?”

“Yup,” Russell confirms, popping the ‘p’ as he stows his phone away. “It’s already got everything you need.”

“Thanks, guys. I don’t suppose you know what’s going on at the end of the scavenger hunt?”

The three of them exchange a look, then all attempt to smother smiles with varying degrees of success –or lack thereof.

Ellie does the best job at it, unsurprisingly. She just stands and hands you the note. “Obviously.”

“Figured as much. I guess you’re not gonna tell me.”

“Nope.” She latches onto Yukio’s hand once her bubbly counterpart passes off your purse and heads out the door. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary,” Russell chimes in, closing the door behind him.

You huff out a little laugh and shake your head, then sit down in the armchair Piotr keeps in his studio before tearing the envelope open.

Myshka,

This studio has seen many important memories; I think among my favorites are celebrating our anniversary here (the effort you went to still amazes me to this day), making costumes for your first Halloween, and planning our first date here.

It is not something I ever mentioned, but I was deeply excited to take you on our first date. I had known by then that I loved you deeply, so much so that it was difficult to take things slow –not that it was any hardship to me. I knew even before we got together that you would need time to heal and come into your own, and every single minute it has taken has been worth it to know you are happier and healthier.

What I mean to say is that I knew from beginning that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I knew from that date that there would never be anyone who compared to you or made me feel the way you did. Every single day with you is precious to me, more than you could ever know.

Happy Anniversary, my love. May we have many more.

Love,

Piotr

You sigh deeply and smile at the note, then dig your phone out of your pocket.

You: Every day with you is precious to me, too. I hope we have many more anniversaries in the years to come.

Babe: <3

You pocket your phone again, then flop back in the chair.

You wish that he would spend the day with you. This is your anniversary after all, and it only seems fitting that any activities or celebrations should include the two of you.

But he did say that he’d see you at the end of the day. And you know he’s still at the mansion –or that he’s been popping out for stuff and coming back.

You check your purse on a whim.

Your sunglasses are tucked inside, as is your wallet, chapstick, a little pack of tissues… and your car keys.

You check the bottom of the card for the next hint.

Hint: go to car.

You’re leaving the house, then, which implies that he needs you out and very distracted for a while; he’s definitely planning something big.

He brought his family and my uncle in, you think, chewing on your lower lip. He’s getting me out of the house. It’s our anniversary. Is he…

You tamp down the hope brewing in your chest before it can manifest into a full thought. You don’t want to start obsessing over anything, especially if it turns out your guessed wrong.

But it could…

You tuck the thought away before it can go anywhere, instead focusing on tucking all the envelopes into your purse. You extract your car keys and sunglasses –in hindsight, you should’ve done that before you put the envelopes in there—then head out to the garage.

***

Sure enough, there’s an envelope waiting for you in the driver’s seat of your car –you almost sit on it by accident, but that’s neither here nor there.

Myshka,

I know we have not had many opportunities to travel together, but you are my favorite co-pilot.

Unless you drink Red Bull.

You really should not drink Red Bull. It is not healthy. It does not even taste good.

Love,

Piotr

Hint: Last stop on our first date.

Well, that’s plenty easy to figure out.

You make to the put the card and envelope in the purse with the others, but stop when you notice a tiny note on the other side of the envelope.

First date, car.

You blink. What the… oh.

It’s a reminder, a little note to help him remember what the hint was about and where the card needed to be placed.

It’s definitely very Piotr, because you would’ve forgotten to do anything like that if you’d been in charge of all this.

You snort and shake your head, then stick your key in the car’s ignition. Alright, I’ll need to fuel up—

Except your gas tank is already full –and your oil’s been changed, which you’ve been meaning to do for… well, you’ve been meaning to do it.

You: Did you fill up my tank?

You: And change my oil?

Babe: Oil light was on for seven months. It needed to be done.

You grin; he’s just the sweetest.

You: <3 Aw thanks

Babe: Of course. <3

You: Wait did I really forget for that long?

Babe: Yes.

You wince. You could’ve sworn the oil light only came on… maybe a few weeks ago?

You: Shit.

You consider leaving it there, but you can’t resist the opportunity to rib him a little bit.

You: Also, vegetables don’t taste good either.

You: Just saying.

You grin when he sends back a laughing-face emoji, then put your phone back in your purse and drive out of the garage.

***

The little spot –technically it’s just the historical part of a larger city, renovated and restored to be a tourist spot—that Piotr took you to for your first date has been a frequent fixture of your dates since then. It’s quiet, it’s beautiful, and there’s plenty do to there regardless of the time of year.

You stroll through the park that leads into the area with all the shops, admiring the greening trees and scads of flowers. It’s still the bare beginning of summer, meaning that everything’s still growing and coming back to life –and that it isn’t unbearably hot, which is always a win.

You do make a beeline towards the chocolate shop Piotr had taken you to at the end of your first date once you reach the street, though. It’s almost noon, you’re hungry, and chocolate strawberries sound like the perfect pick-me-up. You’re a woman on a mission, and nothing is going to stop you—

Except Neena is waiting for you outside the shop, eating chocolate covered cherries out of a paper bag and looking cooler than everyone else in a two-mile radius.

Which, admittedly, is worth at least pausing for.

She grins when you walk up to her and pulls you into a hug. “Hey! Happy Anniversary!”

“Thank you! And hey yourself!” You raise an eyebrow at her when you step back. “I’m guessing you have an envelope for me?”

“Yup!” She pulls an envelope out of her purse and hands it to you. “Have you been enjoying the scavenger hunt so far?”

“I have!” You smile softly as you run your fingers along the top edge of the envelope. “It’s kind of like taking a walk down our relationship’s memory lane.”

“That’s awesome.” She pops another chocolate covered cherry into her mouth, then straightens up and stretches. “Well, I need to get on the road. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright.” You exchange hugs once more, then watch her go, replaying her words over in your head.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

Which seems to imply that Neena might be around at the end of the scavenger hunt, whatever that is. And that, combined with the fact that your uncle and his family is here…

Your stomach growls, jolting you from your reverie. Right. Food. Specifically chocolate covered strawberries.

Piotr texts you after you’ve made your purchase and are on your way out of the shop.

Babe: Do not just eat chocolate for meal.

You snort –but you can’t pretend to be offended, considering that had been your whole plan.

You: Fine.

You: But only for you.

Babe: <3

You swing by the sandwich shop that he’d taken you to for your first date; you get a sandwich and a drink to go, then walk back through the park.

And then you see the bench the two of you had sat on after stopping at the chocolate shop, and –well—it just seems too perfect.

You send a picture of your sandwich to Piotr.

You: Proof that I got real food.

You: Also I’m sitting on the bench we sat on at the end of our first date. :)

You: I just wish you were here with me.

Babe: I am very happy you have real food.

Babe: I wish I was with you also.

Babe: We will see each other later. I promise.

You tuck your phone back in your purse, then tuck into your sandwich.

It’s a little weird being out of the house without Piotr –or someone else, at least. Given your track record for getting kidnapped –not that it was your prerogative to get kidnapped—or into general trouble, you rarely leave Xavier’s; if you do, it’s always with someone, if only to make sure you aren’t being stalked or aren’t in danger.

But this is an area Piotr knows well; it’s as safe a place for you to be as anywhere else, all things considered.

That, and he probably figured you would’ve been pissed off if he’d assigned you a babysitter for the day.

Which, admittedly, you would’ve been.

Besides, there isn’t even a modicum of suspicious activity in the park today. Kids are playing on the playground, parents are watching from nearby, the odd jogger or dog walker are strolling along the walking paths. It’s completely normal.

You’re also sitting at a highly visible point that isn’t easy to sneak up on, and have the ferocity of the average badger. That, and I can just stomp anyone who tries to mess with me. No way in hell I’m getting kidnapped on my anniversary. No way, no how, no doing.

You take a deep breath and focus on your environment for a moment to bring yourself back to the present. You’re safe, and you’ve done everything you need to do to stay safe. No need to obsess on it to the point of freaking yourself out.

You tie into the strawberries once you finish your sandwich –Piotr’s habit of “saving treats for later” still hasn’t rubbed off on you—then wipe your hands on a napkin when you’re all said and done before opening the envelope.

Myshka,

It goes without saying, but I truly enjoy our date time. Whether we are going out to for day or staying in to watch movies, any time I can spend with you is wonderful.

I truly value your companionship. You make my days brighter, regardless of what happens. I am looking forward to spending many bright days with you in years to come.

Love,

Piotr

You smile down at the card –despite the fact that the passersby probably think you look a little nuts—and sigh happily.

You love him. You love him so much it hurts.

Hint: You were impressed when I took you here for dinner.

You chuckle to yourself and toss your lunch trash in a nearby trashcan before heading to your car. Yes, darling, I was very impressed.

***

The drive out to Grant’s restaurant takes a decent chunk of time; it’s mid-afternoon by the time you arrive, and you haven’t managed to figure out who you’re supposed to meet between leaving the place where you’d gone on your first ever date and arriving at the restaurant.

You know Grant is an old friend of Piotr’s, and it makes sense that he might want his friend involved in today in some way, shape, or form; you, however, don’t know Grant all that well. Everyone that you’ve gotten envelopes from today have been people you’ve known for a long time or Piotr’s direct family.

That, and you can’t see Piotr asking Grant to help while the restaurant was open. Your boyfriend’s courteous to a fault at times, and you know he wouldn’t want to throw a wrench into Grant’s workday –especially if something went wrong or you got caught in traffic.

You suppose it might be possible that Piotr would leave the envelope with a hostess, but that seems to contradict the whole “using people we both know” things—

And then Nikolai and Alexandra get out of their car the same time you get out of yours, which completely answers any questions about what the fuck you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“Hi!” You exchange hugs with Alex, then Nikolai. “I didn’t realize you two were in town as well!”

“Surprise visit,” Nikolai says with a smile. “We were told to keep secret.”

You raise an eyebrow; that only confirms that your boyfriend is up to something, and that he’s got some sort of surprise waiting for you when you finally head back home, whenever that is. “Do you two know what’s going on?”

“Of course,” Alex says with a grin. “Medvezhonok sent us here for lunch date.”

You can’t help but smile. Sweet and thoughtful in everything he does.

“Oh.” She withdraws an envelope from her purse. “And to give you this.”

“Yeah.” You open your own purse and show off your growing collection. “I’ve been getting several of those today. Am I close to the end of the hunt?”

Alexandra smirks and shrugs, while Nikolai makes a bigger show of not knowing the answer.

“Alright. I get it. That’s for you to know and for me to find out.”

Alexandra chuckles. “Basically.”

“Well, I hope you have a good lunch date. The food here is amazing –oh, and Piotr did the artwork here for his friend. You’ll be able to see it in the dining room.”

Both of the Rasputin parents express their delight over the new knowledge before exchanging hugs and goodbyes with you and heading inside.

You opt to head back to your car and open the envelope as you plop down into the driver’s seat.

Myshka,

I admit that it took me time to adjust to your not liking being spoiled –at least, not with overly grand gestures. Perhaps I am dated, but I do believe that it is man’s duty to spoil woman he loves. Which, of course, is not to say that women cannot spoil their partners, or that gestures of affection should not be mutual effort. However, after watching my father love and take care of my mother growing up, I knew that his behavior –generosity, romantic, unabashed kindness—was something I wanted to emulate; I like to think it has not led me wrong.

And though I am sensible –as you so often call me—I do like charm and romance of grand gestures. I enjoy planning and anticipation that goes into such things. I enjoy watching your face light up when you realize what I’ve done. I am happy to tailor my ideas to your comfort and preferences, but I do appreciate when you let me “pull out all stops,” as it were.

At any rate, I hope you will not spend today worrying over whether you have done enough for me. My pleasure today truly comes from watching you be happy… and possibly later, if I know you as well as I think I do.

Love,

Piotr

You snort and pull your phone out of your purse.

You: You’re definitely right about later. ;)

Piotr: I will keep that in mind. ;)

You chuckle and shake your head as you put your phone away, then sit back in the driver’s seat to think for a minute.

He’s right that you’re not one for grand gestures. There’s something about over-the-top dates or lavish gesture that just… make you feel like collapsing in on yourself until you disappear from view.

Well, that’s not completely right. You don’t mind doting on Piotr. It’s being doted on that makes you feel uneasy.

If you were to guess, you would say that a lifetime of feeling like you weren’t worth anything and always feeling subpar in the eyes of everyone probably damaged your self-esteem to the point where any sort of gesture –romantic or otherwise—made you feel uneasy and unworthy, and that the grander the gesture, the more you feel convinced that the person doing it will realize that you’re not worth it and abandon you, and… ah, shit.

You take a deep breath and make a note on your phone to talk to Alyssa about it in your session, then do some meditation to calm yourself down. Existential revelations can wait, dammit; today is your day to be happy.

You open your eyes once you’re feeling calm and positive again, then check the card for the next hint.

Hint: Not best day we had, but I still appreciated my time with you here.

You frown and start racking your brain. Does he mean personal? Did we go on a date that ended badly?

That’s what makes the most sense, considering that the scavenger hunt clues have all tied into your relationship or locations that feature heavily in your relationship –but you and Piotr haven’t really had any bad dates. The only one that stands out is…

Is the movie date where you were both kidnapped and taken to Dwight’s lair.

It’s possible, but something doesn��t feel right about it. You know that event was deeply, deeply scarring for Piotr. You seriously doubt that he’d take you back to the theatre where you were both taken; that, and the card said “day,” which implies that the bad event was limited to a single day. The two of you had been in Dwight’s clutches longer than that, which would further rule it out.

You spend several minutes racking for your brain, but the movie-date-turned-kidnapping is the only bad date you can think of. You can’t even remember a date where the two of you had a fight or an argument; you tend to keep things contained to the mansion, specifically your shared bedroom so you don’t upset any of the other residents. Any time the two of you get to spend alone together is sacrosanct, and you’re both careful to keep it that way.

When you don’t come up with something after a few more minutes of fruitless pondering, you give in and call Piotr.

“Privet.”

“Babe, I can’t figure out the most recent clue. I’m trying to think of any bad dates we’ve had, but all I can think of is the movie date where we got kidnapped by Dwight’s goons?” you explain. “Am I forgetting another really bad date we went on, or is that what you meant?”

“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” Piotr exclaims quickly –which was the response you expected. “Absolutely not. No, I meant beach. Where we took kids, and residents disliked my being Russian.”

“Oh! Duh.” You can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“I think it was hint. I worded it poorly. I was considering making it ‘you dropped me in water here,’ but I was not sure if you knew what I meant…”

“No, I would’ve guessed that right away,” you say when his voice trails off, grinning impishly. “I can remember all the times I punked you, big guy.”

“Impressive, considering you do it so often.”

You cackle. “Hey! I’m not that bad!

“Konechno net. You are model resident.”

“Exactly. I never break the rules.”

“…”

“I don’t hear you agreeing, baby.”

“Lying is unethical, myshka.”

You laugh along with him. “Very funny.”

“I try.”

“And you succeed.” You stretch your back, then jam the envelope and card in your purse along with the others. “Alright, I’m gonna get going. I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You hang up, then start your car and pull out of the parking lot outside Grant’s restaurant.

You’ve got a lot of driving ahead of you.

***

You reach the beach a couple hours later –you have to stop and refuel along the way, which adds a little time to your trip.

You inhale deeply as you step out of the car. The smell of salt in the air is strong, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore is deeply soothing.

You take a minute to lean against the hood of your car, enjoying the breeze and the scenery. So far, everyone you’ve need to meet up with has found you or been in plain sight. You can afford to take a minute to relax and stretch your legs.

And sure, enough, you don’t have to wait long to figure out who you need to talk to next. Before you can start to wonder if you should get up and look around, you spot Wade and Nate strolling along the beach, hand in hand.

You grin, hop of the hood of your car, and traipse across the sand so you can greet them. “Hey, guys!”

Wade pulls you into a massive hug. “‘Hey’ yourself, crackerjack!”

Nate hugs you from the side once Wade sets you down. “How’re you doing, kid?”

“Really good. It’s been a fun day.”

Wade waggles his nonexistent eyebrows at you. “And it’ll be more fun once you and Metallica are finally alone together.”

“Yeah, well, that’s for me and me alone to know, dorkus.”

“Gasp!” Wade presses his hand against his chest, feigning offense. “See if I give you the next step in your scavenger hunt now!”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “You do realize I could just take it from you, right? I’ve won nearly every fight we’ve ever gotten in.”

“Prepare to get your ass kicked, little sis.” He pulls a white envelope out of his hoodie pocket and holds it above your head. “Boom! Whatcha gonna do now!”

You give him a flat look, then hover up until you’re at eye level with his hand and pluck the envelope from his fingers.

“Dammit! Forgot about that!”

Nathan just chuckles. “It was a good try, handsome.”

“Define ‘good,’” you tease as you drop lightly onto the sand.

“Fine! See if I share my Gushers with you from now on!”

“I take everything back.”

Nathan shakes his head and smirks. “You’re both insane.”

“And?” You and Wade ask simultaneously.

“You’re dating me,” Wade adds. “And you basically adopted her.”

“Pretty sure that makes you the crazy one,” you agree with a nod.

“Whatever.” Nate latches onto Wade’s hand and squeezes gently. “We ought to head out.”

“Yup,” Wade concurs, popping the ‘p.’ “We’ll let you read your little love note in private; we’ll see you back at the mansion.”

“See you there.” You make your good-byes, then watch them walk towards the parking lot next to the beach, contemplating where to read your latest note at.

You could always sit in your car again, like you did at Grant’s restaurant, but… it is a really gorgeous day out…

You spy a picnic bench a few yards away and decide to sit there so you can better enjoy the sun, sand, and surf. Once you’re comfortably seated, you open the envelope and start reading the card inside.

Myshka,

During years I have known you, I have come to appreciate you in many ways –especially your ferocious love for those you care deeply for.

Perhaps it is because I am more passive, but your tenacity and protectiveness astounds me. I so often worry over offending others or taking wrong steps in confrontation that I forgo it altogether –which, as you have seen, does not always result well. You are so unbelievably brave and bold, and I admire you so much for it.

I hope that, as we go through life together, I can learn from you how to be braver and bolder myself.

Love,

Piotr

You can’t help but smile –part soft and part shocked—and lower the card so you can process everything you’re feeling.

It’s difficult to wrap your head around, to say the least. You’ve never felt particularly brave –bold, yes, but that doesn’t always put things in your favor. At any rate, there’s a lot that still scares you. You still have regular nightmares about your childhood, and while your anxiety is better, it’s still a daily struggle you have to work through. “Brave” is far from the first word you would use to describe yourself.

But, then, you’d probably default to words like “dumbass,” or “dork,” so maybe your opinion isn’t the end all, be all in this situation.

And, just maybe, there’s some truth in that. The perception and opinion of self is important, sure, but maybe there are times where you aren’t the best authority on your defining features. After all, how long have you called yourself “worthless,” and yet Piotr can see so many amazing qualities in you?

Piotr, whose honesty is one of his most defining qualities. Piotr, who invests in everyone around him and works to help them find the best in themselves. Piotr, who loves you and adores you despite your flaws.

Maybe… maybe you’re not as bad or “worthless” or “monstrous” as you think you are –as you’ve been told you are.

You sigh as you reflect on how far you’ve come and how hard you’ve worked to improve. I don’t know about brave… but I’ve made it through a lot. You smile to yourself. I guess I’m pretty tough, at least.

Tough’s good. Tough means endurance, and you’ve definitely got that in spades.

You let out a quiet, giddy laugh, then lift the card so you can read the hint.

Hint: Come back home.

Excitement sparks in your gut, and you tap out a quick message to Piotr letting him know you’re coming home before springing up and running to your car (well, as much as you can run on sand).

It’s time to see what your darling boyfriend’s been up to.

***

It’s mid-evening when you pull into the gravel drive outside the mansion –and you’re immediately greeted by all the students, Ellie, Russell, and Yukio included.

You park your car a couple yards away from them. “Hey, guys,” you say as you step out. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Colossus said to take you to the back yard,” Timothy says, grinning excitedly.

“You have to close your eyes though,” Kitty adds, lips stretched into a similarly enthralled grin.

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And you all are gonna help me get to the back?” You chuckle when you get a chorus of “yeahs,” then close your eyes and hold out your hands. “Okay. Just don’t run me into anything.”

Several little hands latch onto your arms, and then you’re being half-guided, half-led away from the driveway and –presumably—towards the back of the Institute. Most of the kids are shorter than you and don’t understand anything about “walking calmly,” so it’s a little jerky and stuttered, but eventually you come to a stop.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you ask.

“Yup,” Ellie says. “Go ahead.”

You open your eyes –and immediately gasp out loud. “Oh my gosh!”

The backyard directly behind the house has been completely transformed –you almost don’t recognize it.

There are tables draped with soft white tablecloths, lined with white folding chairs –the nice kind that you’ve seen at expensive, catered events—and decorated with vases of small, pink flowers off to the side.

Twinkling fairy lights are strung everywhere; someone –several people, actually, there’s no way one person could’ve done all this—has put up delicate metal trellises and draped the lights over them, thus casting the space in a soft, almost aethereal glow.

Everyone’s here, too. The students, the teachers and staff, your uncle and found family, Piotr’s family, the other residents. There’ll all standing or sitting at the edges of the lit space, smiling at you as you take in all the changes.

And, at the other end of the space –a little further back so it doesn’t pick up glare from the fairy lights—is a projection screen.

“Here.” Ellie takes you by the elbow and moves you so you can see the screen better. “Stand here.”

“What on Earth is going on?” you ask, whipping your head around as a few people chuckle. “Where’s Piotr?”

Ellie just nods at the screen. “Watch.”

You turn your head back to the screen as it lights up. Soft guitar music players from speakers set up somewhere, not that you can find them—

And then a picture of you and Piotr flits onto the screen –specifically, one of the two you dressed as Persephone and Hades for Halloween.

Your face splits into a giant grin.

A slide show starts, slowly flipping from picture to picture, charting the course of your relationship.

There’s one from the first time you’d ever carved pumpkins; someone had managed to get a shot of Piotr watching you with an adorable, lovestruck expression on his face.

Another from your first Christmas season away from home –it’s of the two of you making snowmen together.

You grin when one of the pictures Wade had taken of the two of you kissing under mistletoe pops up; it’s still one of your favorite pictures of all time.

There’s a selfie Piotr had taken of the two of you early in the morning where you’re kissing his cheek –and one at the end of your first stay with him at his art retreat house where you can see a hickey peeking over the collar of your shirt, and oops that’s kind of scandalous.

The slideshow is as much of a walk down memory lane as the scavenger hunt; each picture brings crystal clear, golden-hued memories to your mind’s eye, dragging you further and further into a sea of lovestruck nostalgia.

You’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

The slideshow also shows the extent of Piotr’s picture taking prerogative –obsession, whatever. There’s at least a hundred pictures, from the incredibly mundane –the two of you in your pajama, eating bowls of cereal—to the more elaborate –a more staged ‘end of the year’ picture that you’d both dressed up and posed for.

You cackle with everyone else when the picture Wade had taken of the two of you “doing” Seven Minutes in Heaven shows on the screen. Oh, no way in hell Piotr put that in there. Holy shit.

The slideshow ends with the last picture Aiden had taken of you and Piotr kissing –the one where he’d been completely armored down and had cupped your face with his hands.

You smile happily as you wipe away a few tears from the corners of your eyes. You’re beyond speechless, even as the screen goes dark; you can’t remember the last time anyone did anything this nice or elaborate for you, even for something as important as an anniversary.

A large hand settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Privet, myshka.”

You whirl around and immediately pull your boyfriend down into a passionate kiss.

His hand comes up the back of your head, while his arm wraps around your back –he’s got something in his other hand, not that you can be bothered to care right now—effectively holding you to him.

You can’t remember the last time a kiss has felt this good –which isn’t to say that all the other kisses you’ve had with him have been bad. But between the anticipation of wanting to see him all day, the excitement of not knowing what’s going on, and the emotional journey of the scavenger hunt and the slideshow… you’re in a state, to say the least.

Piotr, fortunately, picks up on your extra emotional –and hormonal—state and breaks the kiss before you can start wholesale undressing him in front of everyone. He strokes the swell of your cheeks with his thumb, smiling broadly, then pulls his arm away from your back. “These are for you.”

You gasp at the sight of the massive –and it really is, holy shit how much did he spend on these—bouquet of roses he’s holding out to you. You have to sling your purse strap over your shoulder so you can hold all of them properly. “Piotr –what—”

“Happy Anniversary, moya lyubov’.” He helps you get the flowers settled in the crook of your right arm, then kisses your temple gently. “Have you had good day?”

“Yes. Oh my goodness, it’s been amazing. How did you do all of this?”

“Much planning.” He smiles, clearly pleased with himself and the situation. “Did you enjoy scavenger hunt?”

“I loved it, Piotr. It –this is all so amazing. I don’t deserve all of this –I don’t even have a present for you—”

He shushes you gently, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. “Tische, myshka. I told you today was about you. That I would get my joy later.”

“Okay, but—” Your brain starts processing again, and you finally realize that he’s dressed up in a suit.

A nice suit. Crisp, perfectly tailored (which isn’t easy, considering that he is Large), and black, with a white button-down shirt and a blue and purple tie that makes his eyes pop.

You sputter –your brain’s working, but your mouth isn’t, evidently. “W -why are you wearing—” you gesture haphazardly at him with your free hand “—why are you wearing a suit? Why does the backyard look like this? What’s even going on?”

He grins, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Happy Anniversary, myshka.”

And then he pulls a black velvet box out of an inner jacket pocket and gets down on one knee.

You gasp and clap your free hand over your mouth.

“Y/N L/N,” Piotr says, voice shaking a little but undeniably overjoyed and excited. “I have waited for so long to have opportunity to do this –and it has been worth every single minute. You are beautiful, intelligent, funny, kind, and you own my whole heart. I knew from moment that I told you I loved you that I wanted to spend my life with you. I knew that this journey would be difficult, and we might never reach this point—” he stops to take a breath and lets out an excited giggle “—but here we are. I love you. Will you please be my wife?”

You’re crying. You never thought you’d cry when Piotr proposed –several years ago you never even thought you’d be getting proposed to—but you’re definitely crying now.

You love him. You love him so much. He’s the universe’s gift to you, a reparation for everything you’ve had to suffer through to get to this point.

There couldn’t have possibly been a better gift, which is why there’s only one possible answer to his question.

“Yes,” you eke out amidst a steady trickle of tears and nervous-energy laughter. “Yes!”

Piotr’s eyes light up while everyone else cheers. He stands, pulling you into a hug and kissing you like you’ve given him the most precious thing in the world.

Which, you suppose makes sense, considering he’s just done the same for you.

He breaks the kiss again –though it takes him longer than before, which you count as a win—then delicately plucks the ring out of the box and slides it down your left ring finger, and—

It’s gorgeous. A sparkling solitaire diamond on a gold band. Big enough to look nice, but not so big that you won’t be able to get your flight gloves over it. It’s clear he put a lot of thought in making sure it would integrate well into your life and mesh with your tastes.

You kiss him again. And again. And again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

This is your forever.

***

There’s a party afterwards with everyone at the mansion –catered by Grant, no less.

“My second-in-command’s got it,” he says when you ask him about his restaurant. “We do catering gigs all the time, we’ve got it figured out. Besides—” he nudges Piotr in the side “—I couldn’t say no to this one.”

Aiden and his team are present as well; apparently, they were taking pictures of you during the slideshow, then of you and Piotr during the actual proposal. Not that you noticed –though you did have a good reason to be distracted, in your defense.

They keep taking pictures throughout the evening –between rounds of helping themselves to the food at Piotr’s instruction, since “it is dinnertime; not good to skip meals.”

You get hugs and-slash-or congratulations from everyone –including Scott, which is proof positive that he can, in fact, act like a decent fucking human being every now and then.

Wade hugs you so hard that your ribs hurt. “Oh my Francis! This is even better than three mini-lion robots coming together to former a super lion robot.”

You laugh as he sets you back down. “Damn. That’s a pretty high standard to meet.”

Nate’s far more gentle. “Congratulations, kid. You two are great together.”

“Well, I certainly hope so.” You raise an eyebrow about him. “How long did you know about this for?”

Nathan smiles and shrugs. “A while. He asked for my permission, so I had a pretty decent head’s up.”

Something warm and tender settles in your chest, and you have to clear your throat a couple times before you speak again. “Does that mean you’re walking me down the aisle?”

His smile softens further and he nods. “I’d be honored.”

Piotr’s family is similarly excited. They flock around the two of you, overjoyed and more than a bit emotional—

Well, three out of four of them are overjoyed and more than a bit emotional. Mikhail’s default setting in any emotional setting seems to be “snark.”

Then again, Mikhail’s default setting in general seems to be “snark.”

“Well, that was disgustingly wholesome,” he says with a smirk –which earns him a pinch in the side from Illyana (which is definitely a punishment, considering how strong her hands are from playing violin).

You can already tell that the comment’s ruffling Piotr’s feathers in the absolute wrong way, but you can also see where Mikhail was trying to be funny and fell flat.

You decide to respond with humor before your boyfriend –no, he’s your fiancé now—gets too prickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back to the regularly scheduled debauchery as of nine tomorrow morning.”

Mikhail laughs, then seems to finally notice Piotr’s icy expression –or, more likely, Illyana gave him a psychic tip off that he done hecked up—and switches course immediately. He clasps his younger brother’s shoulder –and actually has to reach up to do so, which is a little amusing to you—and gives Piotr a genuine smile. “I am proud of you. Happy for you. You picked good one.”

That seems to soothe Piotr, at least a little. He smiles down at you and squeezes your hand in his. “Best one there is.”

Your uncle comes up last, once the crowd has thinned a little –though it’s worth noting that Aiden an his team don’t try to get any pictures with him in it (when you ask Piotr later, he explains that he forewarned Aiden that your uncle didn’t like having his picture taken and made sure that Aiden and his coworkers would be able to work with that).

His eyes are noticeably misty –heck, yours are too—when he pulls you in for a hug. “Proud of you, punk. So fucking proud.”

“I’m proud of you, too,” you say as you hold him tight. “We’ve both come a long way, huh?”

“Yeah,” he concedes, swiping at his eyes once he lets you go. “We have.”

Eventually, the party comes to an end. Grant and his team pack up their equipment, Aiden’s and his coworkers put away their cameras, and the youngest students are sent to bed while the other residents head off to do their own things.

As for you and Piotr, the two of you head off to your shared room for some well-deserved one-on-one time. You wind up snuggling in bed –though, admittedly, that’s not the first thing the two of you do.

Because neither of you had been kidding about finding pleasure at the end of the night.

You admire your ring and the way it sits on your finger for the umpteenth time as Piotr traces gentle, slow circles up and down your bare back. You wiggle your fingers back and forth, then giggle, giddy and overjoyed.

Piotr’s lips press against your forehead. “Happy?”

“Very.” You tilt your head back to kiss him properly, passionately. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You wriggle a little in his arms so you can see his face better. “How long did you plan all this for? And how did you keep me from finding out?”

“I knew how I wanted to propose… since our first anniversary,” he says after a moment of thought. “I did not start making cards until your diagnosis, though. I did not want to run risk of you finding them and panicking that I would leave you if we could never get married.”

You smooth your hand over his shoulder. “Yeah, there was probably some prudence there.”

“As for keeping everything secret, I just kept it all in my art studio,” he explains with a smile. “I figured you would not look there.”

“Yeah, well, you were right. Not that I would’ve gone snooping through your stuff, but yeah. I would’ve never looked there.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Did you like everything today? I was worried it would be too taxing or obnoxious—”

“It was perfect,” you reassure him, and his responding smile makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over. “I loved it. I just feel bad that I didn’t have anything for you. Honestly… I kinda forgot that today was our anniversary until I read the first card this morning.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No worries. I enjoyed today immensely.” He smirks, then kneads the flesh of your hip with his hand. “Besides, I knew I would get mine later.”

“Well, yeah.” You sling your arms around his neck and smile excitedly. “We’re gonna get married.”

His responding smile is equally excited. “Da. I know.”

You kiss him and let out a happy sigh. “I love you.”

His arms wind around you. “And I love you.”

“Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

He kisses your cheek sweetly. “Happy Anniversary, myshka.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #HOLY SHIT I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS #I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF #also there is so much fluff in this #i have it on good authority that y'all are gonna melt #and i am so excited to watch that happen :D #nathan summers x wade wilson #cablepool #negasonic x yukio #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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booksandeverything-in-between · 4 years ago

Text

My journalism journey

... has only just begun!

This is my post for the “Life Narrative” assignment for JTC 326. I’ve added a “keep reading” tab because I hate putting extremely long posts on my dashboard! Keep in mind too, I’ve formatted this to fit the platform, so it’s not strictly professional.

Also — this is the first time I’ve shared my Tumblr with anyone who is not my sister, but it’s the perfect platform for this.

** All pictures were taken by me unless otherwise specified, some taken from my old blog posts on here.

A note before I start: When I first thought about this assignment, I had so many things I thought I could share, a lot of them deeply personal, somewhat dark and just not the right fit. I had a bit of a crisis; I cried a little. There is so much in my past that makes me, me, that I’ve only ever really shared with my therapist, but have generally wanted to write about. But it’s hard, and I don’t know how. And a whole lot of other stuff. BUT THEN

I realized I could share a story that I have always wanted to share! It perfectly relates to our class too and basically everything anyone would ever need to know about me! It’s amazing! I’m so excited! I hope you like it!

(line break)

It’s the summer before sixth grade. That’s how I define, or sort, my life, in my memories. It’s the year of school, or it’s the summer before/after. It’s not my age, or the calendar year; it’s school. For a long time my whole identity revolved around school, so it fits.

Anyway, I’m bored. My older sister and I can only do so much Netflix-watching (because we didn’t have cable) on the Wii (because this was 2011), and I need something to stimulate my active mind. Here comes books!

I’ve always, always been an avid reader. I was the first person in my first grade class to start reading chapter books — something I liked to brag about a lot back then. But I’m about to be a middle schooler, so I need to find something a little more mature. My parents decide that I’m at an appropriate age to start reading some of my sister’s old books, which were originally marked for garage sale.

One of these books has a long, juicy title, with a teen girl posed on the cover in a preppy school uniform, hand on her hip. I don’t have to look this up to remember; it is forever in my mind. The book is I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You by Ally Carter. Juicy, right? AND I LOVE IT. Seriously. Love. It.

Photo: I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You by Ally Carter.

... And I guess I move on. That part is a little fuzzy. Enter: Back to School Night, sixth grade. I always would go with my mom, because I loved school, and nights like those I thought were super cool. So, I’m hanging out with my best friend Sydney by the stairs, and she has this book from the school library with her.

Do you believe in fate? Was it kismet? I do not know; I will not guess. But I do know, I freaked the f*ck out. Because it was the book, by Ally Carter!! I loved that book! When I asked Sydney where she got it, she said in the library, and there were a bunch of other books like it.

That made me pause. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it. Because, what do you know, it was a series!! There were three other books to be read! How, oh how, did I not know this? It had to be fate.

I can still picture exactly where the books are, in the Preston library. The smaller shelf, up against the wall, right by the opening into the conference/meeting room space (I don’t know what we called that room???). Bottom shelf.

Who knew a series about teenage girls going to a spy school would set me on this path?

Suddenly it’s the summer after sixth grade, and once again, I’m bored. But, I have access to a netbook, that my grandpa gave us. Something entices me to start Googling these books. I find Ally Carter’s website. I found out that there are going to be two more books in the series. And I stumble upon this Google search suggestion, with the word fanfiction.

And wow.

Stories, countless stories, about my favorite books. Eventually, I make my own account on fanfiction.net, I try my hand at some of my own stories, I get a smartphone and make this very tumblr account when I turn 13, I find a place where I can express all my nerdiness in peace and all-caps, without any sort of ridicule fear.

But that’s not the end, nor the point, of this story.

Photo: The first four books in the Gallagher Girls series by Ally Carter.

(line break)

So here I am, spending all my free time secretly reading fanfic and trying to write it, and hating my life sometimes and thinking about what I want to study in college because that’s my best chance at escape from this life that I feel I’m stuck in.

But I can’t think of anything to write! I love to read; I enjoy writing; I am learning more about grammar because my dad has me grading his grammar quizzes he gave his JTC 300 students; but still, something isn’t right. I viscerally hate English class.

But! There’s a way I CAN write, without it being creative! My dad is going to school for photojournalism, my sister took a high school journalism class, and now it’s my turn to register for classes in high school. I sign up for Journalism 1, the precursor to Journalism 2, which is the class that houses the student newspaper. It’s a great plan. It was a good class.

I was looking through my old journal the other day, and I came across this line dated from September 23, 2014, just into the beginning of my freshman year of high school. “I want to be a journalist.”

Photo: A journal entry that reads, “I want to be a journalist.”

My sophomore year of high school, I take Journalism 2 and join the paper. I’m kind of terrified because there are a bunch of people I don’t know and now I’ll actually have to go out and report and talk to people ... but we do some really fun team-building, and people seem to like me, and I relax. I feel, just a little, like a really belong.

And I had felt that way before, during band, and with some of my friends, but this thing, this journalism thing, I’m actually good at it. And there’s this one moment that sticks out to me still.

It’s probably 7:20 a.m. I’m trudging up the steps to Spanish class, and I do not want to be there. It’s not that I don’t like school, or I don’t like my classes, because I do. But I’m tired, and it’s not what I want to be doing. I think, if I could spend the entirety of my day in my journalism class, I would be happy.

To this day, as a college student, I am jealous of the people who get to spend their whole days doing journalism.

I’ve found more than a home. I’ve found a place where, for what feels like the first time, I can speak my mind. I can be sarcastic, I can make a pun and I can also point out when there’s a bad typo somewhere and have that be appreciated.

Halfway through my first year writing for the paper, I’m given extra responsibilities and get to start copy editing articles from the students in the J1 class, and I start to learn how to redesign/maintain our Wordpress site. I go on a class trip to Los Angeles, an amazing feat of independence for me, and I feel valued. And then, I’m award the position of Copy Editor for the next school year! It’s amazing.

I learn my junior year that the freshmen whose articles I edited were afraid of me. Afraid, of me! (For reference, I am five feet tall). But once they met me, they were like ‘Woah, Serena’s not scary!” and now we’re good friends. I’ve since learned to be less harsh/blunt in my editing.

My senior year, I was Editor-in-Chief. That was something I dreamed about as a freshman, but wouldn’t let myself actually fathom. And even though I felt like I could have done a much better job, and I had a lot of personal sh*t to do with too, by the end of the year, I knew that I was leaving behind a strong legacy.

It’s really something special when people you love give you a speech, crying, telling you how much you welcomed them, how much you made them feel like they had a place to grow, to be, and how much you’ve inspired them.

Because journalism, especially student journalism, is about so much more than the news. It’s about a community. It’s community with your fellow reporters and editors, it’s comradery while kicking ass, it’s creating a community with your readers and your peers, it’s learning about the community you live in and sharing the ups and downs of life.

Photo: A screenshot from my Instagram account of my high school journalism family, taken at our end of the year picture my junior year of high school. We had this running joke that I was going to be a world-dominator type person (because I’m so tiny and quiet) and my teacher said, “Okay, Serena now push Katie over” because I was taking over as EIC. Photo credit goes to my teacher (not going to post his name here).

(line break)

I have a lot of setbacks, too. I have anxiety. Like, a lot. Of anxiety. I haven’t been formally diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder, but I think I should be.

I used to think I was just shy. And that was partially the case. But I grew from it, in large part because of journalism. I went from not sitting in my designated seat at the beginning of class because there were older kids in the way my freshman year, to leading the entire class three days a week my senior year. I liked high school journalism because I could get away with asking my friends for quotes, or just not really quoting anyone at all.

I spent one quarter at the University of Denver last year, and it was somewhat the same thing. They didn’t have any strict standards on a number of sources, and I wrote articles that didn’t require speaking to a lot of people. But then, I took over nine months off from school in what should have been my freshman year of college, and thus took nine months off from journalism and reporting. So starting at The Collegian was a challenge.

I am still damn proud of myself for getting up the courage, on the second day of classes at CSU, to go down to the newsroom and ask about reporting. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t, and I love where I am today.

To think that wasn’t even a year ago ...

Photo: Here I am, remote copy editing for The Collegian, the week after Spring Break. Photo cred to my dad.

When I started at CSU, I felt good. I was nervous, but transferring was a really good decision, and I’m from Fort Collins, so I felt more comfortable. And at first, my reporting felt really good.

But then I got too stressed with school and work, and that stress led over to increases social anxiety when I was reporting. I went to this community meeting and tried to talk to people there, but I felt helpless and quiet and I left and cried to myself. I then conducted my interviews over the phone.

I even had to take a break for a few months last semester, because I had a panic attack with the mere thought of approaching people I didn’t know.

But I worked through it. Aided by Xanax and peer support, I interviewed a bunch of people at the Eva Schloss event and felt really good about it. I also saw my high school journalism advisor, because his wife works at CSU Hillel, and talking to someone who knew my struggle felt good.

For a long time I’ve doubted if journalism, if news reporting, is something I’ll actually be able to do. It’s the only real thing that makes me feel like I have a purpose, the only thing that makes me not feel depressed about life, but I am still so worried I’ll hold myself back in some way.

That hasn’t happened yet.

(line break)

It’s the summer before my junior year of high school, and I am about to go meet up with the other members of the new leadership team, Katie and Kathleen, at Starbucks. I’ve recently got my license and it feels really good to be driving myself around.

I go to Target and buy a fancy looking notebook with the last $15 I have to my name, because I don’t have a job yet. I go to Starbucks and discover I like drinking tea. I talk with Katie and Kathleen and we brainstorm what we want the journalism class to look like next year. What we want to change, how we’re going to get students to know that we exist.

It’s the summer before my senior year, and I bring this same notebook to a meeting at Dazbog that I have with our leadership team to get ready for the school year. I’m in charge. It’s weird, but in a good way. There are a lot more people there, and I fill pages upon pages of ideas, and agendas I want to start the first weeks with.

So much had changed in a year. My parents got divorced, I started working a lot, I was looking more seriously into college. But so much was the same. The same people, the same work, the same purpose. It was good.

It’s the second semester of my first year at CSU, my sophomore year of college. I’m at home, cleaning my room, procrastinating because I don’t want to write my final essay. I get a text from Laura, asking if I’ve heard back about the editorial board yet. I had shut my phone off because I was checking my email so obsessively.

And there it is. I am going to be the 2020-2021 News Editor for The Rocky Mountain Collegian. I still don’t fully feel like I know what I’m doing, even though I have all this experience. News is happening, but it’s summer. Do I write about it? Do I ask other people to write about it? Can I express the authority and knowledge I know I have, to people who have more experience at the paper than I do? It’s still early.

The day I get the news, I pull out an old, blue notebook that’s barely filled. It’s the perfect place to start brainstorming the things I want to change on the desk and the things I think are super important for Laura and me to talk about.

I forgot that I had notes from my Editor-in-Chief days in there.

Photo: The notebook!

It feels like I’ve completed a circle. Like all the highs and lows of my last few years have led me to here, right back to where I’m supposed to be. Where I’ve always known I would be.

I know who I am; I know where I belong; I know my place and my purpose in this world.

Ally Carter’s Gallagher Girls series brought me to writing, and writing brought me to journalism. In my obsession with those books, the unofficial motto of the CIA really resonated with me. “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.”

Community and truth, that’s journalism.

I want to be a journalist.

I am a student journalist.

I am a journalist.

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arigatouiris · 6 years ago

Text

out of my league // t.h — 05

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; pining; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: I’m going along with the Mark Hamill thing, just for gags idk. Anyway, as for Aditi; I’m from India and I really don’t see a lot of representation on here, so I decided to add her as a side character. Hope ya’ll like this chapter~ Also, if you want me to add you to the series taglist, just drop a note or comment! ^^

Word count: 3171

Series Masterlist

04 | 05 | 06

It came as a surprise to everyone a day after that when (y/n) decided to stick to the desk. Susannah even offered her another break (but, she was hesitant while doing so and blamed herself as the reason for which (y/n) declined), but (y/n) had made up her mind.

“But why desk? I thought you hated the desk!” Susannah exclaimed, confused out of her mind.

“Takes my mind off things. This is a vacation when compared to what I have to do otherwise.” (y/n) said, sheepishly.

“You love reviewing though.” Bruce mumbled, but no one really paid heed to what he was saying.

“Ever since Tom Holland made it easier for everyone around here to breathe, you should take that as a sign that you can get back to your normal life, (y/n). Maybe, even send him a thank you—”

“I’m not sending him any thank you notes, he’s the reason everything began! He can’t create a problem and take credit for solving it.” (y/n) didn’t think she was being harsh.

Not doing this, she reminded herself. Turning on her heel, she headed to the desk she was appointed a few days ago and opened her mail. An exasperated sigh exited her lips when she noticed the odd number of mails, each containing a document for her to copy edit and review.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t at all feel thankful that Tom solved the issue with that one Instagram story. First, it took him that long to make it (which meant he went against what his manager said again, and who knows what trouble he got into for doing that?) What trouble can he get into? He’s an actor! (y/n) rolled her eyes as she continued her thoughts. Second, this was all his fault in the first place—considering how Jean Marcel is doing quite well writing crappy scripts for smaller TV shows at the moment. And third, (y/n) had had enough of an actor trying to win her over with his charm. Of course, some part of Tom Holland wanted to say sorry and thought it would work because he’s an actor. And an actor appearing on your doorstep is a big deal, as well! And some part of (y/n) wanted to accept such an apology only because Tom was a celebrity, and this didn’t sit well with her.

I’m out of his league, it had become a mantra now. I will never accept his apology. In the past, (y/n) was known to be someone who used the word ‘never’ a tad bit too much. Whether this aspect of her personality died down with age didn’t phase her at the moment. This was Tom Holland, an actor by profession, and a man who had screwed up otherwise.

“So, are ya gonna thank the woman who showed you lovely Tom’s story yesterday?” Aditi’s voice appeared out of nowhere.

Rolling her eyes, (y/n) looked up from her desk to see a grinning Indian woman, her shades still on and her smile, rather annoying. Aditi was the personification of sass.

“He’s not lovely Tom.”

“That’s all you’re going to correct from that sentence? Wow, (y/n), you’re going soft on me.”

“Aditi, what’s up?”

Taking her shades off, Aditi grumbled something before turning to her friend, “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m better now.”

“Like Post Malone?”

(y/n) turned to her computer, ignoring her statement, thus inevitably shooing her annoying friend away. Aditi laughed as she walked away, talking about Tom Holland being a savior. No one sees it, (y/n) thought to herself, feeling her ears turn pink. Everything that I had to go through, all those mails I had to read! If they knew even half of it, they’d know that Tom Holland isn’t to thank for here. I can’t believe that it has to be explained to them, she shut her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath. I won’t be doing the explaining. I’ve had it. I don’t want to ever associate myself with Tom Holland ever again.

While it was surprising to everyone that (y/n) decided to stay back at the desk for the moment, it wasn’t as surprising as it was for (y/n) herself. She has always hated the desk for as long as she could remember; her first week at the job and she dreaded it and wanted out. Her confidence levels were booming then, she was an enthusiastic cutlet of pure passion, she wouldn’t let the desk mar her confidence in anyway from achieving what she truly wanted. However, now, especially after the internet fiasco, (y/n) had come close to giving up.

Mental exhaustion hit her harder than it ever did before; she never knew people were capable of such hate, such anger over something they didn’t clearly understand. If (y/n) wasn’t being existential, she was being cautious. People were a force of nature, and angering a crowd proved drastic for her. She always considered her job like surfing, it’s never a safe sport. However, even a surfer tends to take a break after almost drowning. But the breath of fresh air had hit her lungs, she had found her release and everything was slowly going back to their place—Tom was leaving her alone, and she could return to critiquing.

(y/n) should be happy, but she felt nothing of the sort. She felt absolutely nothing. She felt nothing a lot these days, ever since the scandal; she’s cried a few times, but she mostly found herself feeling nothing, being nothing. She felt empty—as if whatever makes her feel and hurt has been surgically removed, leaving her hollowed out like a shell.

The mere mention of Tom did something to her; she would feel agitated, an uncontrolled force of ire would fill her veins. She didn’t know if this was for the actor, or the person or the entire ordeal that had taken place. She didn’t know if she was wrong in blaming only him, or being mad at only him—but from her shoes, he was all she could see.

It was as if someone could draw lines pointing toward what caused all these problems and all lines met at Tom Holland. In a way, she admired his strength. Just a few weeks of internet hate turned her into a hollow shell of who she used to be; Tom does this every single day. He couldn’t be who he wanted to be because he was a celebrity; all his shows and interviews were interviewing Tom Holland, the actor who played Spiderman and Lionel, and not Tom Holland, the person whose face turns red because of the weather.

However, she was not in any position to be empathetic to the perpetrator of her sorrow. Whether he wanted to or not, he had impacted her mental health more than adulthood had; and he had done it in a span of a few weeks. Less than what adulthood itself took. While comparing her sudden outbreak to adulthood, (y/n) understood that this pain was given the right credit. That the hurt she had been inflicted with demanded her response.

She, therefore, could not forgive Tom Holland, the actor, the person, the phenomenon.

Even Tom Holland had his phone fall flat on his nose as he held it to his face in the dark as he was lying down. It didn’t matter to the phone that he was Tom Holland, gravity worked even if you’re attractive.

Grumbling in pain, Tom immediately checked for any signs of blood spilling from his nostrils, and sighed in relief when there was none. Letting out a couple of coughs, and pushing one leg out of the corner of the blanket that was covering him, Tom was finally comfortable again. It was close to 2:30 a.m., but he couldn’t sleep. Tom always had trouble falling asleep, but he normally never let it embrace him like he did that night.

His eyes scrolled through Google search, his tongue popping out in instinct, and his eyes landed on what he wanted to look for.

Birds of a Feather — Review by (y/n) (l/n) | London Daily

He licked his lips instinctively before clicking on the link. He scrolled to her profile in the bottom and clicked on it (since he had already read the review multiple times since then). Tom was reading the script for a new advert he was sent electronically, till it was around 1 a.m., and it was after that when he tried sleeping. When he couldn’t, he browsed through Instagram for a bit, laughed at a few funny videos on cats and dogs, but all of this he was trying to do to avoid thinking of her.

But, once he thought of her, she stuck around. He shut his eyes and breathed, recalling her face as she smiled at him, sitting across from him in the coffeeshop. He’d pictured over ten times on how that conversation would have gone if those girls hadn’t interrupted them. He’d wondered if she’d tell him more about herself, and he wondered if he could ask her why she didn’t follow him on Instagram (taking a careful moment there, because he didn’t want to seem creepy). He wondered if she’d smile at him often the way she normally smiled, and he wondered if she’d reserve a special smile only for him.

It was almost as if he was resisting all these thoughts by not thinking of her and thinking of everything else; but all else seemed mundane in front of her.

He recalled every single detail about her from that day in the coffeeshop. Her Emilia Clarke smile when he was surprised she drank her coffee black. Her laugh—oh goodness—her laugh. When he thought about the way she laughed, as though she owned the air around her, Tom’s heart thundered inside his chest, a symphony on its own.

He looked at all the reviews she had written, over a 100 of them, and scrolled to the very first one. He could feel his heart beating as he was scrolling through her pages, almost as if he was doing something so secretive that he couldn’t let the world know yet. Tom wasn’t thinking and perhaps, a crush can do that to a person; where their body knows what the mind wants, and was working on finding out more and more and more about the person in question.

He found her Star Wars reviews, all of them stacked together. He slowly began reading each and every single one—some were not longer than 900 words, some critiques were over 2000. He absorbed the way she thought in some of the movies he’s also seen, and he wanted more.

He searched for her name on Facebook after that and found her in one go, chuckling when he discovered that she hadn’t actually deactivated her Facebook account. He stalked her innocently, careful not to like anything, careful not to make it seem like he had tread on a path he wasn’t allowed. Tom almost felt like he was trespassing, but this didn’t harm anyone.

She likes Star Wars, he thought before adorning a smile. He took a look at one of her status updates about Mark Hamill. If Mark Hamill ever replied to a tweet I made, I’d die. I’d just cry and die right then. Tom laughed, before scrolling past and seeing more of her. Here was a whole person, whose life was intertwined with an Instagram story he had put up.

“I’ve met Mark Hamill, you know,” Tom said to absolutely no one. “He’s such a nice guy.”

And Tom fantasized all night over introducing her to Hamill, seeing her melt, or cry and die like she had written. Tom knew this was incredibly foolish of him to be thinking the way he was about someone he knew nothing about (of course, knowing she likes Mark Hamill didn’t count). Oh, but he wanted to. He wanted to know her. He wanted to ease things and not have this radio silence with her. He’s an actor, and there would be so many people he’d never ever meet, who desperately wanted to meet him. But this was perhaps the first time, where Tom desperately wanted to meet someone, and being an actor didn’t help.

It was as if the tables were turned here. To him, (y/n) was now the celebrity, far out of his reach, pristine and wonderful, hardworking and gorgeous, close to ideal even—but one fact remained. Tom shut his phone and put it aside, noticing the time was close to 4 in the morning. She’s out of my league, Tom chuckled, before hoping to dream about her.

(y/n) woke up to her phone buzzing. It was several minutes before her alarm could wake her, but she was not complaining. She blinked a couple of times before checking her phone, and noticing that the message was from an unknown number. Sitting up, she held the phone in her hands and read through the message.

I hope everything is alright now. I sincerely hope you don’t have any more mails coming your way, bad ones. I’m sorry I can’t tell you this in person, for screwing up last time. Have a good day, (y/n). :)

There’s a smiley in the end, she thought before frowning. She knew who it was from. She didn’t want to wake up with this being the first thing she saw. Sighing, she closed the messages app before getting on with her day. If he was expecting a reply, then her behavior was a clear giveaway. She was ghosting him.

It took her close to an hour to get ready, have breakfast and begin her journey to the office that morning. She liked how London was sunny that morning, and not gloomy like it was almost every other day. Just as she reached office, greeting people she knew with a nice smile, she spotted Aditi already waiting by her desk. Cocking an eyebrow at her friend, she hopping toward her to ask her what happened.

“You won’t believe who called me to ask for your number,” Aditi said, smirking. “You most definitely won’t like who it is, but I’m warning you, be nice. You need to be. May the Force be with you.”

(y/n) rolls her eyes before whispering, “Was it Tom Holland?”

Aditi blinks like she heard her friend say the most idiotic thing possible. She scoffed and shook her head at (y/n)’s imprudence.

“Oh, please! Why in the world would Tom Holland call a beat reporter? No, it was someone else that you don’t like and you’re going to need to be at your best—”

Almost as if on cue, (y/n)’s phone started to ring. Blinking at Aditi, she moved aside a bit, placing her bag on her desk and picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“(y/n)?” The voice sounded bored, almost as if she didn’t even want to be talking.

(y/n) felt all the energy leave her body when she identified the caller.

“Jenny. What a pleasant surprise.” Robotic and not genuine.

“Alright, so I don’t know what the whole deal is with you and Tom, but he sent me a rather sharp mail talking about how disappointed he was with the content I broadcasted on my show, and that I had to call you and apologize for slandering your name.”

“He did?” (y/n) was confused.

“Yes,” There was a sigh, “He did. And he was demanding so I had to call you. Why else would I call you?” Jenny didn’t have to explicitly state that she hated (y/n), all Jenny had to do was talk.

“Thanks for calling, Jen. Keep up with the great work!” (y/n) faked enthusiasm, and heard Jenny groan before ending the call.

“Jennifer fucking Campbell. I can’t believe it.” (y/n) breathed, letting out a laugh.

“But, why did she want to call you?” Aditi asked.

(y/n) sighed. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to tell Aditi that Tom had asked Jenny to call. Aditi’s response was already in order. She’d ask her friend to send Tom a thank you note or a bouquet or whatever it was that they’d send with thank you notes. (y/n) shrugged before dropping the topic and getting to her desk. She had decided to ghost Tom, and even a rather hilarious apology from Jenny wouldn’t do.

An hour later, (y/n)’s phone beeped. Taking a breather, she checked her phone to find she had a new follow request. Blinking, she clicked on the Instagram notification and groaned. A ‘tomholland2013’ had sent her a new request. What is he doing? She thought before declining it, and refreshing the page. A second later, there was another request. From Tom.

I am not doing this right now, she thought before ignoring the request; she felt her cheeks burn up, and a ghost of a smile was threatening to make its way up to her lips. She wouldn’t cave. No, she scolded herself before straightening her reaction. I am not doing this!

A moment later, she let out a squeak and covered her face with her hands. She could control her reactions, but her face was still quite warm. As much as she loved her ability to ignore unwanted people in her life, ignoring Tom Holland was a challenge.

“What’s gotten into you?” Haz asked, petting Tessa on the head.

“What do you mean?” Tom said, looking up from his phone, a smile still on his face.

Harrison pointed to Tom’s eerie smile, disgusted, “That. You’re smiling like a horse.”

Tom scoffed before muttering a ‘sod off’ and getting back to his phone. Haz blinked before looking at Harry and Sam, who were coming into the living room. Pointing to his friend, Harrison waited for Harry or Sam to respond on their own.

“He’s been like this since last night.” Sam said, bored.

“He’s been readin’, can you believe it? I even peeped into what he was looking at so intensely, but they were just words.” Harry said, shrugging.

Haz looked at Tom, who was ignoring the whole thing.

“Could be smut.” Sam suggested.

Haz rolled his eyes, “He’s not reading porn, Sam.”

“Whatever he’s readin’s sure making him smile like a fucking creep, that’s for sure.” Harry said, letting out a laugh.

Harrison let out a sigh. He looked at his friend and wondered. The only other time that Tom was out of wits was back in BRIT when he was obsessed with this other girl in class. The crush didn’t last very long, but similar signs were present back then—now grown in intensity. Haz nodded to himself once before minding his own business. The answers would come to him, as they always did.

It’s Tom. And he was Haz. It was meant to happen.

series taglist:

@strangemaximoff, @aestheticgaybish, @noobmaster63, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay, @wonders-of-the-multiverse, @boushalaivre, @jackiehollanderr, @nerdypisces160, @yourwonderbelle, @quackson606, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff, @fandoms-stuff, @danicarosaline

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom hollander #tom x reader #tom holland fanfic

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longhornmarley · 4 years ago

Text

I Am Your Father || Self-Para

Who: Marley Rose

Where: The penthouse

When: June 21st, 2020

Notes: Marley gets a letter from someone unexpected on Father’s Day. Edit: This now happened in Hugo, and her father came to the diner and found out who she was.

Father’s Day was always a normal day for Marley. When she was little, she used to get upset seeing all the kids with their dads, but as she got older, she didn’t mind as much. She had a great mother and she turned it into a second mother’s day of sorts. She’d get cards and sign them, but that was really it for that too. It was just another summer day up until this year.

For the first time ever, she had a reason to buy gifts for Father’s Day. She had no idea what to get Finn, but after looking online, she ordered the gifts and now had them all wrapped and set up for him in her room for later. It took her a long time to figure out what to write in the card, making drafts in a notebook, but she settled on one thing and was nervous for him to read it. So nervous, she needed to get out before actually giving it to him. So, she got the leashes and decided to take both the dogs out for a walk.

The mom-to-be wasn’t gone too long and when they got back, she was stopped by one of the receptionists and given a letter. The other girl said some guy had just dropped it off and Marley clarified that it wasn’t Declan. Her heart was racing a she looked over the handwriting and noticed it wasn’t the same as Declan’s. It was different. And yet, she recognized it a little bit. She thanked the girl before taking the dogs and going upstairs.

Marley let the dogs go before heading towards her room and just putting the letter down. She didn’t want to deal with it now. She would later. Instead, she brought the presents out and got Finn; giving him his first Father’s Day.

It wasn’t until much later that she ended up going back to the envelope and closed her door before sitting down and opening it up. She unfolded the paper inside and began reading the letter. It was typed out, not handwritten like her name was on the envelope or the signature at the bottom of the paper. And by the name alone, she knew exactly who this was from.

Dear Marley Rose,

I’m sure this letter is several years too late and I apologize for that. I apologize for being gone for the majority of your life and missing out on big moments. All your moments. It’s one of my biggest regrets.

I guess I should properly tell you who I am. My name is Damian Scott and biologically, I am your father. I realize that is very Star Wars of me to say, but a classic line is a good one when you’re telling your child who you are. I know it has been years since we’ve seen each other. Hell, you probably don’t even remember me. That is my fault, obviously, but I would like to change that and what better day to try to change that than on Father’s Day.

I don’t expect us to meet today. I’ll be in Austin until the end of the month. I have left my number on the bottom of this letter and hope you contact me to meet somewhere, anywhere. I bet you’re wondering how I found you. My daughter and your half-sister, Evie, has been interested into what she says is called Glee Clubs and of course told me how amazing this one called The New Directions were during the national competition.

After seeing who was on the team, I noticed you and knew exactly who you were. You look almost exactly like my sister and after seeing your name, it cleared it up more. I did my research just to make sure so I wasn’t contacted the wrong Marley Rose either. So yes, I am sure that you are a hundred percent my daughter.

This is a lot to take in. That I am sure. Take your time to take this all in and I hope you contact me. If you don’t within this week I am here, that’s okay. I just hope you do one day. You can call or text whenever you like. I just really want to see you in person and try to make up for all those lost moments.

I’ll leave you with this: Never doubt that I loved you. I did. I do. I always will. You are my first daughter and had me wrapped around your finger since the moment you were born. I’m sorry for leaving you and I hope to explain myself in the future.

Love,

Your Dad, Damian Scott

Tears ran down Marley’s face and hit the paper. She couldn’t believe that this was real. To make sure it was, she got up and found the picture of her father she had, comparing the handwriting. It was his. It was exactly the same. She fell back on the bed and cried harder as she held the paper tight. She had no idea if she would contact him. If she should. However, she knew she wanted to know him. And now, she wanted to know this sister of hers as well. He was right, it was all so much to take in. She would have to think, but really did want to see him before he left. She just had to think.

#sp;i am your father #marley;family #marley;self

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amazingmitchell · 5 years ago

Text

something to play for

genre: fluff, smut/nsfw

word count: 4435

available on: ao3

summary: “the world doesn’t revolve around basketball, lester.”

a basketball!au where phil is the school's star player and dan is his best friend, watching from the sidelines. everything changes when the team makes it to state championships for the first time in ten years and dan and phil realize they want something more than friendship.

author’s note: it's finally here! after months of waiting i can proudly say it's polished and beautiful. eternal thanks to @existentialhouseplant for beta reading it! (UPDATE: i accidentally deleted this whole thing while trying to edit it and i’m frustrated with myself and tumblr and the universe, so the italics aren’t copied over and if you really want them, give it a read on the ol’ ao3).

the bell rings, sending students flying from their desks and out the door. dan shoves his unfinished history assignment into the depths of his backpack and follows his classmates as they pour into the hallway. unlike the rest of them, dan walks to the gym, rather than through the school gates. he gets sour looks from a group of girls standing by the lockers who know all too well where he’s going and who he’s hanging out with.

when he enters the gym, dan doesn’t have to look up to know phil’s on the court shooting baskets. the sound of the basketball slicing through the net and phil’s shoe squeaks echo across the building.

“don’t tell me you have homework again today,” phil calls once he notices dan setting his bag down by the bleachers.

“i have homework every day,” dan says back, pulling the now wrinkled assignment sheet out of his backpack. “if you have a problem with it, you can take it up with mrs. shelley.”

phil makes a lazy attempt at a three, letting the ball bounce a few times until it hits the wall. “you have to help me practice, though. what’s more important, state championships or some small assignment?”

“the world doesn’t revolve around basketball, lester.”

except it does, and not just for phil. their high school hasn’t had a good basketball team in ten years, but since phil joined the team in september, they’ve won nearly every game. the coach tells all the players it’s a combined effort, not that he’s fooling anyone. phil’s the most talented player in the state and carries the team. for as popular as phil is on the court, he’s pretty quiet in class. he doesn’t let his talent get to his head and only has one real friend: dan. all the popular boys at school tried to become phil’s friend as soon as the team started winning games, but it became pretty evident dan wasn’t sharing. still, there are girls who occasionally go up to phil and ask for his number, to no avail. it explains why dan gets so many dirty looks: everyone wants to see phil lester’s personal side.

at first, dan expected the basketball hype to die down after the first home game. after their third win in a row, though, it started to sink in that maybe this season is the one. winning twenty of their twenty two games has earned them a spot in the state championship, and now anything anyone can think about is winning the last game of the season.

dan has supported phil every step of the way, but the problem with the championship game is that it takes place the weekend before finals. earlier in the semester, dan was willing to forget his homework in favor of helping phil practice. today, though, dan puts his foot down.

“this ‘assignment’ is worth fifteen percent of my grade, phil,” dan frowns. “i can’t just not do it.”

phil rolls his eyes, “fine. but if i accidentally hit you from over here, that’s a sign you should be helping me instead.” he picks up the ball again and tries to pump fake dan, but he’s already looking back down at his history project and doesn’t notice.

dan feels like he’s been working for hours when he looks at the gym clock and finds it’s only been twenty minutes. he groans, setting his papers aside and rolling up his sleeves.

“you certainly look productive,” phil comments with a smirk. “maybe you could use a break.” dan stares at phil blankly. “i could use some help with my defense.”

sighing, dan stands up and walks across the court to phil. “what do you want me to do?”

“just dribble around and try to make a shot,” phil says, emphasizing the word try as he passes the basketball to dan. dan doesn’t catch it gracefully and it slips out of his grasp. as dan tries to chase after it, phil steals it from him and scores a basket like it’s nothing.

dan throws his hands up. “i don’t know what you expect from me, but you’re definitely not making this easy.”

“that’s the point, howell.” phil tosses the ball back to dan, placing his hands on his hips to take a breath. “just try your best. i promise i won’t go too hard on you.”

dan takes a minute to steady the ball in his hands, then starts dribbling from side to side. he takes a cautious step forward, then another, and another until phil swipes at the ball and dan retreats to the half court line. he tries not to look at phil’s eyes, because he knows he’ll get distracted. phil’s just captivating like that. he’s such a nice person that you don’t even realize when he’s taken the ball from you and scored; it’s completely disarming. even the best players fall victim to his charm, or at least dan hopes that’s the case.

he breathes in deeply before stepping forward again, this time avoiding phil. he moves around phil and definitely gets away with a double dribble, but finds himself only feet away from the basket. dan puts the ball up and it hits the side of the rim, bouncing into phil’s open arms.

“i’m surprised,” phil smiles. “you’re not actually that bad. your shooting form needs improvement, though.”

“well, since you’re the expert here, why don’t you show me how you’d do it?”

phil walks over to where dan is standing and hands him the ball, this time keeping a hand on the ball and the other on dan’s shoulder. “use your right hand to support the bottom of it,” he says, moving dan’s hand. “put your left hand on the top of it and push the ball up as you jump.”

dan makes a sore attempt to follow phil’s instructions and the ball comes no closer to the basket than before. phil laughs in the background and runs to grab the ball. “it’s not funny,” dan grumbles, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “you know i don’t know how to aim.”

“sorry. i guess i should be resting up for saturday’s game, anyway,” phil says, holding the ball at his hip. “i didn’t hurt your feelings, did i?”

dan shakes his head quickly, “of course you didn’t. some people just aren’t born to play basketball.”

smiling, phil walks over to the utility closet and puts the basketball back on the rack with the others the team uses for practice as dan slings his backpack over his shoulder. “do you want to come over for dinner?” phil asks as he grabs his own bag. “mom’s making a big dinner in celebration of state championships since they’ll be out of state for the game.”

they exit the gym and make their way through the halls. “that’s a family thing, phil, i don’t want to intervene,” dan says. “besides, i still have that history thing to do.”

“okay,” phil says, not wanting to push dan, knowing that he already took away from dan’s study time. “speaking of the championship game, since my parents can’t go, do you think you’d like to go with me?”

“like, go with you on the bus and share your hotel room?” dan asks. “you don’t have to do that for me-”

“well, i want to,” phil presses. “there’s no one i’d want to be with me more.”

dan grins, “i’d love that.” he waves goodbye to phil as they walk past the school gates and head in opposite directions. as dan walks home, he can’t help but notice the strange feeling bubbling in his stomach at the idea of going to state with phil.

—

instead of resting like phil said he was going to, he hits the courts every day for the rest of the week. phil makes free throw after free throw, basket after basket. dan sits on the sidelines and supports phil as much as he can while he does his homework. both dan and phil’s most productive day that week is when the team has their final practice before the game. phil is occupied with the rest of the team, so he doesn’t distract dan from his work. it wasn’t like phil was actually getting much practice in with just dan around, anyway.

phil’s coach gives the team a long, inspiring speech and credits their success to team effort, but looks directly at phil as he says it. dan notices some of the team members becoming uncomfortable when the coach gets to that part of the speech, so he shoots phil a reassuring smile. dan hates the way he and phil are treated sometimes. phil just doesn’t deserve it.

phil walks out of practice that day with a lump of stress caught in his throat. “you will rest tonight, right?” dan asks as they stand at the front of the school before saying their goodbyes. “you have to get up early to meet the bus in time.”

phil doesn’t say anything.

“are you okay? i know you’re stressed and all but you’re really quiet,” dan says. “at least that means you won’t get t’d up.” that puts a smile on phil’s face, but it fades as quickly as it comes. he stares at dan like he’s worried about something, and dan’s known phil long enough that he knows it’s not just pre-game jitters. “you better figure this out, lester. i’m not sleeping in the same room as someone who’s going to wet the bed,” dan jokes. he punches phil in the arm (softly, of course) and turns to walk home.

—

dan sits on the curb in the school parking lot on his phone as he waits for phil to show up. he checks his texts over and over, but the school’s wifi never was any good. it isn’t until he hears a suitcase being set down behind him that he realizes phil’s here.

“sorry,” phil says, helping dan up. “dropped my straightener on the counter and burnt a hole in my towel.”

dan frowns, because either phil didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, or he’s still stressed out. “still nervous?” dan asks.

phil doesn’t have a chance to respond before his coach whistles and waves them over to the bus. they step inside and find that most of the team is already settled in, but thankfully there’s two open seats next to each other near the back of the bus. phil puts their suitcases above their seats, then sits next to dan.

“i have homework i need to do,” dan says as he takes his laptop out of his backpack. “do you want to pick out a playlist? i always work better with music, and i think it would help you de-stress.”

nodding, phil takes dan’s phone and scrolls through his music for a minute before deciding on 148 by c418. he plugs a pair of earbuds into the phone and offers one side to dan.

“odd choice, but i’m down for this,” dan says, placing the earbud in his ear and logging into his laptop. while it loads, dan watches as phil leans back in his seat and stares out the window. he would ask phil if he needs anything, but phil looks more relaxed than he’s been all week, and dan smiles.

—

it takes a few hours to drive to the state capital, but soon enough they’re there and everyone’s anxious to get up and move around. they stop by the hotel to drop off their bags then they’re on the road again, this time to an arcade. it’s the coach’s surprise to the team for making it this far, and to take pressure off the big game tomorrow.

they start with laser tag, pitting the players and trainers against each other. dan opts to join the team phil isn’t on to make things more fun, even though he knows he’s probably going to lose. when the game begins, dan runs into one of the towers and peeks out the window, searching for phil in the darkness. he shoots the basketball players that are brave enough to cross the large, open field, but there’s still no sign of phil. eventually, all dan’s teammates have been picked off and dan’s pretty sure he and phil are the last ones still in the game. he decides that waiting around for phil isn’t going to work, so he stands up from his hiding spot and turns around.

within half a second, the sound of a laser gun goes off and dan’s own gun turns dark before he can even realize what’s happened. phil had been waiting behind dan the whole game. “you cruel bastard,” dan groans, ripping his vest off.

phil just laughs, his tongue poking out from his teeth. dan rolls his eyes; that’s phil’s happy laugh. he’s glad phil’s enjoying himself, but this is just unfair. “i’m sorry,” phil says with no sincerity once he takes time to catch his breath. “i got you so good.”

“yeah,” dan grumbles. he walks out of the tower and phil follows him out of the arena, leaving their guns behind. “i hate you.”

“here, we can play a round of air hockey and i’ll let you win,” phil says.

dan shakes his head, “there’s no fun in that.”

“do you really think you can beat me otherwise?”

dan inserts a token into the table and picks up a striker. “game on, lester.”

—

later that night, after the team orders in pizza, dan and phil make their way to their hotel room, exhausted from the day’s events. the first thing they do is collapse on the bed, not bothering to take their shoes off or get comfortable. dan thinks it’s a bit counteractive to exhaust players before the most important game they’ve ever played. either way, it’s the most fun he’s had in a while, even though phil beat him at every game they played. they stare up at the ceiling until the air conditioning turns on and dan has to get up and turn it off before they freeze to death.

“i know i said i hate you, but i’m proud of you, you know that?” dan says as he sits back down on the bed.

phil sits up to reply to him, “what am i supposed to say to that? thanks?”

“you’ve come so far. i remember when you first made the team. i wonder if anyone thought we’d ever be here.”

“you convinced me to try out,” phil defends. “i wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

“you’re such a sap,” dan smiles. he and phil sit like this for a few seconds that feel like slow motion. dan suddenly feels warm under phil’s gaze and he can hear the stillness in the air, the slight ringing in his ears. “do you think we could,” dan trails off and bites his lip. a shiver runs down dan’s spine as phil takes his hand and cups dan’s cheek, tilting his head upwards so he can finally break the tension between the two of them and kiss dan. it’s a kiss so long and deep that it’s dizzying; a warm, fuzzy feeling growing in his stomach and his mouth and everywhere.

dan pulls away to rest his forehead against phil’s, taking slow breaths and closing his eyes because phil’s blue-green eyes are so intense. he drapes his arms over phil’s shoulders and laughs airily, “shit, phil.”

phil responds by closing the gap and kissing dan again, this time taking dan’s bottom lip in between his teeth. catching dan by surprise, he gasps softly and grabs a handful of phil’s shirt. phil smirks, aware of the mess he and dan are now in. he kisses dan so firmly that he pushes dan’s back against the bed, straddling dan’s legs and placing his hands next to either side of dan to hold himself up as they kiss. it’s the most heavenly thing he’s ever felt, dan thinks. phil’s body above his, their breath hot on each other’s faces. as phil drags dan’s bottom lip through his teeth once more, dan’s sighs become a low-pitched whine. he places his lips along dan’s jawline and kisses lower and lower until he reaches the soft skin on dan’s neck.

“not there,” dan pants. “‘m sensiti-” he cuts himself off with a load moan as phil bites down gently. phil raises his eyebrows, and dan’s ashamed of how pathetic it seemed. “i warned you,” he grumbles.

“oh my god, dan,” phil breathes, sending a wave of fervor through dan. “you sound so beautiful.”

dan almost moans again at the heaviness of phil’s voice, but he stops himself. “how far do you want to go?” dan asks, and he knows it’s a mood killer, but this is important to him. to both of them. it’s new and tempting and needs boundaries. “i don’t think either of us brought anything, so…” he trails off.

phil pulls away and looks at dan, taking a minute to brush the hair out of his eyes. “maybe we can just get each other off?”

“fuck yes,” dan nods, tilting his head back to allow phil to continue kissing his neck. he lets his hands run up and down phil’s body. dan brushes over phil’s nipples, making him gasp against dan’s skin. tentatively, dan does it again, and this time he elicits a moan from phil. it’s when dan presses down harder that phil can’t take it anymore.

“help me get your pants off,” phil says, not as composed as he was a few minutes ago. phil easily takes his jeans off, but dan has to lift himself up once phil can’t tug dan’s down any further. phil throws them to the other side of the bed once they’re off. he then carefully pulls dan’s underwear down, then his own. they were both clearly straining against the fabric, and dan now shivers in the cold hotel room air.

dan feels like he should say something, but he’s so tongue-tied with desire that he makes a helpless sound. it’s enough for phil to get the message, and his hand finally wraps around the head of dan’s cock. slick with precum, phil uses it to help pump the rest of dan’s cock.

it’s absolutely euphoric, and soon dan’s bucking up into phil’s hand and whispering his name with every movement. it sends waves of pleasure through him, and he would be content doing this for hours on end. but somehow, in all the mania, dan reaches his hand out in return, taking phil’s cock in his hand and pumping in time with phil.

phil bites his lip, trying not to let out the string of curses dan knows is stuck in his throat. dan leans forward to kiss phil and the moans he’s holding back become vibrations that go straight to dan’s cock. phil’s hips involuntarily slide forward, and their cocks rub against each other. phil pulls back, but dan guides phil’s cock next to his again and takes them both in his hand. the added friction brings them both infinitely closer to release.

“phil,” dan cries, rolling his hips as need steadily builds up and courses through his body. “i’m- i-”

phil pumps him over the edge, and anything dan was saying becomes an incoherent mess. phil follows soon after, coming on dan’s stomach like dan had done with him. breathing heavily, he falls on the sheets beside dan.

once they’ve both calmed down to the point where words seem possible again, phil turns his head to look at dan. “hi,” he says, and dan laughs breathlessly.

“hi,” dan smiles. “we should go wash up.”

—

dan wakes up before phil does, a pair of arms wrapped around him and soft breathing against his neck. it’s the most comforting thing he’s ever felt, the feeling of being safe and warm in phil’s embrace. dan looks over at the clock and it’s well past eight, but the team doesn’t need to be at the arena until later, so dan sighs and closes his eyes to fall asleep again.

until he realizes that the game—the biggest game the team’s played yet—is today, and dan just slept with the star player. it’s a feat almost everyone at school should be jealous of, but it sends dan’s mind racing. not only did he tire phil out more than he already was, what if he gets distracted during the game? dan knows phil’s always calm and collected on the court, but what if? what if dan lost the game for phil before it even started? phil was already nervous on the bus ride up. did dan make it worse? or would phil get mad at him for causing this mess?

the warm feeling of being next to phil is replaced by a sickness to his stomach. he pries away from phil, biting his lip with a frown as he hears phil mumble something in protest beside him. “good morning,” phil says, stretching. his heart leaps at the sound of phil’s voice, but his thoughts shut his feelings down again.

“morning,” dan mutters without looking back. he gets up and takes a change of clothes out of his bag, heading into the bathroom to change while avoiding phil’s slightly confused stare as much as possible. turning on the faucet, he splashes his face with water, but he knows nothing can hide the bruise on his neck and the plumpness of his lips.

when he comes out of the bathroom, and for the rest of the morning, for that matter, dan shuts his mouth and tries not to look at or think about phil. if i’m not distracted by him, maybe he won’t get distracted by me. they pile onto the bus after a long and silent breakfast (from all the team, who were clearly nervous about playing such an important game), and dan slides into the window seat. out of the corner of his eye, dan sees phil try to hold his hand, but he pulls away before they touch.

“are you okay, dan?” phil asks in a quiet voice.

“just tired,” dan says back, and he can tell phil doesn’t buy it. and dan isn’t entirely wrong; he’d have loved to stay in bed with phil for another hour, but today is phil’s day. today is about basketball.

at the arena, phil and the team stop by the locker room to drop their bags off and talk strategy for the game, something dan isn’t invited to. he and the other friends and family that went along for the trip find seats in the arena itself, bustling about game predictions and final scores. dan finds a seat further up in the stands and scrolls mindlessly through his phone for what feels like hours before both teams come out for warmups. when dan glances up, there’s now a lot more people than there were before, and he meets phil’s searching eyes on the court and he can’t bear to stare at phil anymore. the look phil gives dan once he realizes dan isn’t in his usual courtside seat makes dan want to run down and let him know he’s okay.

dan tries to pay attention to the other team warming up, and the fact that they’re making most of their shots doesn’t put dan’s mind at ease. this is going to be a tough game for phil, but he can handle it, right? he hopes phil can, because soon enough, warmups are over and the teams go to their benches for their final pep talk. dan looks to their team’s huddle, but he doesn’t see phil’s jersey number, and it’s not because he’s sitting further away. he looks for any sign of phil in the sidelines before he notices a familiar jersey jogging up the steps.

“i saved you a seat by the bench,” phil says, resting his hands on his hips. “better view up here?”

“not really,” dan hesitates, struggling to find something to say that isn’t going to make him seem like a terrible friend.

“did i do something wrong?” phil asks, and dan doesn’t think he’s ever seen phil more heartbroken in his life. “is this about last night? because i really liked it, and if you didn’t-”

“i shouldn’t have kissed you,” dan says. phil takes dan’s hands into his and pulls dan up until he’s standing. “what if i distract you during the game? what if i make you lose? you were exhausted last night and i probably pushed you too far, and i know you’ve been nervous since before we left.”

phil laughs and rolls his eyes, “i was nervous about sharing a room with you, silly, not about the game. i’ve been mad about you for years, and i finally had my chance to tell you. when i found out you felt the same way, i didn’t have anything to be nervous about anymore. but i freaked out again when you were acting differently. i thought wow, maybe you don’t really like me the way i like you. i would have been thinking more about if you hated me or not than what’s happening in the game.”

“really?” dan asks.

“i like seeing you cheer me on in the sidelines,” phil smiles, swinging their arms back and forth. “it gives me something to play for.” phil draws him into a hug, rubbing dan’s back.

“god, i’m sorry,” dan whispers, and he tries to put words to his feelings, but if he says anything else, he’ll probably cry. he can’t believe he’s made things so much worse than they were, but all he wants to do is focus on being in phil’s arms again.

“come on, you’ll make me late.” phil, with dan in tow, walks back down the stairs and around to the other side of the court to the bench. he gives dan a quick kiss, leaving dan just as blushy as he was the last time the kissed, before apologizing to the coach and joining the huddle.

—

phil wins. the team wins, really, but it’s all phil at the end. it’s the best game of his career and at the final buzzer, everyone in the building knows it. dan rushes onto the court with the rest of the players on the bench, wrapping his arms around phil once the two meet.

“you are so sweaty,” dan shouts over the cheering.

“shut up,” phil says, and in front of thousands of people, to be replayed on the news that night, phil kisses dan.

#fanfiction #phanfiction #phan #fluff #smut #lil bit of angst #writing

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