#this is probably extremely unfunny but I thought of this

[graysanatimony]

I don’t know who this applies to but this just reminds me of JO and JOblr

yeah

[katsumox]

"the roomate."

~1k words. jason todd x reader.

there's so much sexual tension here it should be illegal. anyway..

“Fuck you, Jason. Literally fuck you,” you shout, stomping into the shared apartment.

It was the third argument this week. It's been two months since you moved in, and the two of you have been arguing ever since. You found Jason's apparent severe dislike for you confusing, as you'd been nothing if not outright kind to him. At the very least, you've been an amicable and considerate roommate.

Time after time, Jason Todd found ways to get under your skin in the apartment you shared with him, Roy, and Kori. Though you were a new addition to the trio, you meshed extremely well with everyone, except Jason, of course. The two redheads were quick to tell you that Jason didn’t get along with many, but he didn’t mean any harm. Nevertheless, The four of you began renting a condo for the sake of cheap rent when the going got tough.

Something about you seemed to fundamentally irritate Jason. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have a perpetual stick up your ass, unlike him, or maybe it was because he had a natural aversion to anything happy or remotely nice. Perhaps it was the way you found reasons to smile and laugh obscenely hard at jokes his male friends say, but somehow find Jason entirely unfunny. Or perhaps it’s the fact that you don’t immediately shut down Roy’s frequent flirty jokes and offers for dates.

“Oh,” he drawls, eyes widened. “Didn’t think good girls like you cursed,” he mocks, following you into the shared living space.

You roll your eyes, kicking off your heels with a little more malice than you probably should.

“Just because you make it your life’s mission to be the meanest, most inconsiderate son of a bitch on the planet,” you snarl, stalking towards your room, “doesn’t mean I have to deal with it. Be a fucking cunt on your own time.”

“Fuck did you just say to me?”

You whip around, tired of the back and forth. “You heard exactly what the fuck I said.”

The smell of his cologne mixed with gunpowder all but invades your senses as he storms toward you.

“Fuck you,” he sneers, eyes narrowed. His hulking form towers over you, his neck craned down to see all of you as he backs you into a corner. At nearly 6’4, a literal wall of muscle and angst, he towers over you, posturing.

His near-permanent scowl hardens as you refuse to break eye contact, despite something in you begging to. Jason's always been pretty. If not for his attitude, you'd find him incredibly attractive. In fact, you think, mentally frowning, you find him attractive despite his cold demeanor. Maybe even because of it.

The rough timbre of Jason’s voice wakes you from your silent stupor.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs, pressing himself closer to you, lips just barely ghosting your own. He pulls back, realizing the desperation in his voice in tandem with his proximity to you is maddening.

“Tell me to get the fuck out," he says, breathless. "To stop touching you,” his hand now lightly squeezing your jaw, keeping you in place. Keeping you from avoiding confrontation.

His focus flickers between your lips and your eyes, taking labored breaths.

You part your lips, as whatever thought you began to formulate dies as you realize the proximity of Jason’s lips to yours. You take a shallow breath again. You could count every one of his dark, long eyelashes from here, you think. Every one of his sun spots and freckles, and scars.

“Tell me not to. Tell me now,” he rasps, blueish-green eyes half-hidden by low eyelids. Something unspoken passes between the two of you, neither of you saying anything, yet saying everything all at once. You take a breath, hoping your words won't fail you for a second time.

"…Fuck it."

Suddenly you both are on each other, kissing, clawing, and caressing all the same.

A groan rumbles in Jason's chest as you paw at him. You've been enveloped by him in all his entirety; his smell, his taste, his sounds. You press at his chest, a solid wall of muscle, hoping to push him blindly, to where you think the couch is. The man smirks at your initiative, taking the hint.

He taps your ass twice, but you're too distracted by the taste of him on your lips.

"Be good f'me, doll. Lemme lift you,"

You hum, more concerned with the mountain of a man in front of you. He lifts you with ease, sitting you on his lap as he resumes his mission to make you break. Your nails scrape down his chest deliciously, drawing out another low, needy noise from the man. Jason takes note of how freely you let your hands roam, ghosting over places that haven't been touched in a long time.

"Eager, aren't we, sweetheart?"

"Shut up," you say at full volume, caught off guard by the nickname and forgetting where you are.

"Shut me up, then," Jason quips, pulling you up toward his face for another dizzying kiss. His kisses move from the corner of your mouth down your jaw. Featherlight touches follow him down to your collarbone, where he lightly nibbles at you.

You let out a strangled, needy noise, one far too loud and embarrassing for the time and place the two of you find yourselves in.

"Shh, shhh. 'S okay, baby," Jason coos, a devilish smile creeping up on his swollen lips. "Wouldn't want the others to hear you, would we?"

You hum and shake your head, dazed, as the man deftly rubs circles into your hip with his fingers.

"Guess we should take this to a more private place, hm, pretty girl?"

You nod emphatically, chasing his lips as he moves you off of him.

"So," he pauses, catching his breath. His black hair is tousled, his lips pink and swollen, and his pupils blown wide.

"Your room or mine?"

[aayakashii]

No idea why I suddenly thought of this. Literally the most random dumb thought ever but okay

You tell them a knock knock joke:

Jin:

Shuts you up immediately. Doesn't entertain it. Says something like "why the fuck are you wasting my time, servant" but then you whine a little, so he rolls his eyes and just accepts defeat. He will say your joke sucks though. You will only tell jokes to him when you want to annoy him from then on.

Tohma

Entertains it. Doesn't mean he will find it funny but the thought of embarrassing you by staring at you, deadpan, for way too long after you tell the joke kinda tickles his brain in the right spot. He might chuckle a little just to break the awkward atmosphere. You never try to tell him jokes after that.

Kaito

Will laugh so exaggeratedly just to appease you, but it will have the opposite effect. You will be kinda put off by his fake reaction, and he'll get desperate and ask for a do-over. You try again because he gets way too sad over that, but it doesn't work anyway.

Lucas

Entertains your antics but doesn't find the joke funny at all. He'll be like "I don't understand, what's the point of this question?". Why do you even try to tell him a joke come on that's on you

Alan

Entertains it. Doesn't really understand the joke, but will give the tiniest smile since you seem happy that he answered you. Big of heart, dumb of ass. Great choice for telling silly jokes.

Leo

You don't tell him any jokes. Please let's have a little self-respect now.

Sho

Entertains it. Will find it extremely unfunny but will be nice with it. He just rolls his eyes and says something like "wow sempai you're not funny at all lol" but it doesn't sting. You might tell him some jokes from time to time just to break the ice when you need it.

Haru

He will be the one telling you the joke actually. If you tell him one he doesn't know, he will find it genuinely so funny that you'll have to hold Peekaboo for a moment while he folds in laughter. Probably the best person you could ever choose to tell jokes to.

Towa

Giggles but like. In a condescending way. Like when we see a puppy doing something cute. He'll be like "haha you're so silly, Dandelion" while tucking your hair behind your ear. You can keep telling him jokes if you want I guess, he won't complain as long as you pay attention to him tbh.

Ren

Never entertains it but you tell them anyway to annoy him. Absolutely despises the amount of knock knock jokes you know, but kinda feels a bit flattered when you say you spend time online just to find silly things to tell him. He's living rent free on your mind, huh?

Taiga

Entertains it and actually laughs like HA HA HA HA HA super loud while saying you're actually kinda funny. He's still very intimidating when he asks you to tell another. Good thing: you only need to memorize three or four jokes. He'll forget them anyway.

Romeo

Why would you even try? He doesn't entertain it. If you keep pushing, however, he'll suddenly yell WHO'S THERE out of nowhere just to shut you up. Will kick you out of his room if you pull out another joke from your little clown hat. Not a very good choice if you wanna be funny.

Ritsu

Will ask if you have a warrant that allows you entry in his property in order to knock on his door. Absolutely ruins the fun with more law jargon. Awful choice but you kinda knew that already.

Subaru

Entertains it out of politeness. Also laughs out of politeness. He doesn't really find it THAT funny, but will chuckle so you don't feel bad. He doesn't mind it either, so you can keep telling him jokes, but the reaction is kinda underwhelming.

Haku

Chuckles after you tell him a joke then hits you with:

"Haku: knock knock

You: who's there?

Haku: Ben

You: Ben who?

Haku: Ben thinking about you all day."

If you can handle this type of comeback, then feel free to keep telling him your silly jokes.

Zenji

Absolutely ROARS with laughter and will deplete you of all your jokes. And will laugh at all of them like you just said the funniest thing ever. Alongside Haru, he's the best person to choose when you're in a silly goofy mood.

Ed

Entertains it. Will make it creepy somehow and will tell you some other jokes, but they will be so uncomfortable that you'll wish you never even thought about interacting with him. You can keep telling him jokes if you're a masochist though.

Rui

Entertains it. He will giggle and say you're a silly cutie but you don't know if he genuinely thinks you're funny or if he's just trying to flirt with you. You can keep on telling him jokes as long as you're okay with him calling you every petname in the book in exchange.

Lyca

Entertains it but doesn't understand. Why are you pretending to knock on a door, and why would you even think that's funny? He'll ask you to keep on telling him jokes so he can get used with this weird new human habit he gotta learn.

Yuri

Doesn't entertain it and hates it because he can never guess what's the punchline for your jokes. Will go on a rant about how he has no time to deal with your insanity but he's just upset he can't be as funny as you. Keep telling him jokes if you wanna torture him a bit.

Jiro

Entertains it but doesn't find it funny at all. You're not yelling nor skittish, so where's the fun. Will ask something like "can I go back to work or do you need to get more jokes out of your system?" so he's not really the best choice for telling jokes. But it's on you.

[chimcess]

Bittersweet || myg (1)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Other Tags: Grad Student!Yoongi, Undergrad!Reader, Grad Student!Hoseok, Uncle!Namjoon, Doctor!Namjoon, Grad Student!Jimin, Fuckboy!Jungkook, GradStudent!Jungkook, Boss!Seokjin, Yoongi POV Genre: College!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, kinda Student/Teacher but not really, Older!Yoongi, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Word Count: 19.9k+ Summary: When a cynical graduate student meets an overly enthusiastic undergraduate, the air crackles with tension—though not all of it is good. Warnings: Mean!Yoongi, he's extremely rude, like extremely so, prank gone wrong, bitter grad student to the max, strong language, Jimin is a snitch, possible wrong science information (i'm sorry i'm not perfect), sexual tension, reader faints at the sight of blood, unfunny pranks, Yoongi is jaded, he's a softie once you get to know him, hospital visit, non-descriptive male masterbation, reader has a stutter when nervous, Yoongi just being in denial for almost 20k words, kissing at work, almost caught, Jealous!Yoongi, i'm sorry but this JK is kind of a slime ball, Reader knows what she's doing, they're adorable, lots of bickering, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Another old draft I found buried in my Google Docs! I didn't need to change too much, and it's very loosely edited, so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. This was rather long (and I don't know why I never posted it), so it had to be split into two parts because of Tumblr's new rules. Thanks for reading!

Next

Subject: Undergrad Mentoring From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 6:18 AM   To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Yoongi,  

I’m forwarding an email from a brilliant undergraduate. Have you thought about mentoring a student? I really think you should.  

— Jin  

---

From: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 2:08 AM   To: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Subject: Undergraduate Research  

Dear Professor Kim,  

My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m a junior in the School of Arts and Sciences, majoring in microbiology. I’m incredibly interested in undergraduate research, particularly in your fascinating work on Helicobacter pylori and its connection to stomach cancer.  

Although I don’t have prior research experience, I’m hardworking and responsible, and I would appreciate the chance to join your team. Please let me know if you have space available in your lab.  

Attached are my CV and transcript.  

Thank you!  

Y/N Y/L/N  

---

Dr. Seokjin Kim Member, Division of Basic Sciences   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

I stared at Jin's email, the words bouncing around in my head. No previous research experience? Oh great! Just fucking great!

As the clock hit noon, I trudged into the break room, where the fluorescent lights buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. It was my little escape, my sanctuary from the suffocating hallways of academia. Hoseok, the only graduate student I considered a friend, was already inhaling his lunch.

I plopped my Tupperware into the microwave, the day’s weight pressing down on me like a thick fog. “Jin wants me to take on an undergrad,” I grumbled, feeling the words stick in my throat.

“Seriously?” Hoseok asked, mouth half-full. He didn’t even bother to swallow before adding, “Have them do the dishes.”

“Oh man, this is going to suck,” I muttered, stirring my mac and cheese with the enthusiasm of a person headed to their execution. “I have to train her, and she has zero lab experience. I don’t have time for this crap.”

The microwave beeped, its harsh sound grating against my nerves. I pulled out my steaming food, the steam rising ominously. “I tried to get out of it, but Jin insisted it’s ‘all part of the training.’” I mimicked his voice, nasal and overdramatic. Hoseok chuckled, nearly choking on his food.

I dug into my lunch, my mind racing. “She’s probably some pre-med trying to pad her CV. Calling our research ‘fascinating’ like she even knows what we do here—just another cookie-cutter student firing off a hundred emails.” 

“Maybe she’s cute?” Hoseok waggled his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. My single status was a constant source of irritation for him. He meant well, but his attempts at matchmaking were like trying to fix a flat tire with a spoon.

“I already did my required TA-ing last year, and it nearly gave me an ulcer. I thought I was done with whiny undergrads! This really sucks!” The words burst out, hot and angry. The idea of babysitting a clueless student gnawed at me like a persistent itch.

I focused on my research, hoping it would be my ticket out of this academic purgatory. Mentoring an undergrad was the last thing I needed—a distraction threatening to derail my meticulously planned escape.

After lunch, I headed to the incubator to check on my cultures, the familiar hum a small comfort amidst the chaos. Then I settled at my desk, drafting a reluctant email to the undergrad, my words dripping with begrudging obligation.

From: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu   Sent: Friday, January 14, 2024, 1:05 PM   To: ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu  

Come to the lab on Monday between 8 AM and 7 PM. Bring your schedule.  

Yoongi Min PhD Candidate   Kim Lab   Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center   1100 Fairview Avenue North   Seattle, WA 98109-1024  

This was going to suck.

“Hi, I’m looking for Yoongi Min?” A stranger’s voice cut through the quiet of the lab, and I felt my focus waver. I was knee-deep in DNA sequencing data, desperately searching for a start codon when the interruption struck like nails on a chalkboard.

“That’s him over there,” Jimin, my lab mate, replied. I didn’t need to look up; I knew he was pointing at me.

“CTT ATC GTG ACT…” I murmured; eyes glued to the screen. The code demanded my attention.

A shadow crept closer, invading my peripheral vision. I ignored it, hyper-fixated on the screen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” the shadow solidified into the undergrad I’d been dreading. I continued to stare at the screen, unwilling to break my concentration.

“Did you bring your schedule?” My voice was clipped, an attempt to maintain my rhythm.

CGC CTC CGT ATG… There it was! I highlighted the start codon, feeling a small sense of victory amidst the irritation. Finally, I turned to face her. She held a crumpled piece of paper in trembling hands.

The crackling noise of the paper grated on my nerves, and I snatched it from her. A quick scan revealed she had a limited availability. Tuesdays and Thursdays it was.

“Do you want one or two credits?” I asked, filling out her form with practiced efficiency.

“Oh… um… t-two,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oh great, a stammerer. I disliked her already. My frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

“That’s ten hours a week,” I said, scribbling on the form. “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, maybe some Wednesday mornings.” I thrust the completed form back at her and turned back to my computer.

“See you tomorrow,” I dismissed her with a wave, eager to end the interaction. Her stammering was already wearing on my patience.

When I returned from lunch, she was perched at my bench. A laugh escaped me at the sight of her attire.

“What the hell is that?” I pointed at her lab coat, which was covered in hand-drawn bacteria.

She jumped, eyes wide. “My la-la-lab coat?” she stuttered.

Oh great, she’s a fucking idiot.

I took a deep breath, scanning her outfit for safety violations. At least she wore closed shoes and jeans, but her long hair hung loose.

“You should tie your hair up. You’ll be working near the flame.”

She pulled a hairband from her wrist and started tying her hair back. As I walked past, I noticed the back of her lab coat had “Bacteria Rule” scrawled in huge letters.

Bacteria Rule? Is she serious? I wanted to stab my eyes out with the pen in my hand. Who wastes time drawing on a lab coat? Nobody in their right mind, that’s for sure.

Something was off about her—I was certain of it. Concerned about her competence, I decided she couldn’t be trusted with any real work. Instead, I assigned her mundane chores, the kind even a high schooler could handle. It might not have been what Jin envisioned, but it was the only way.

God, I’m already dreading this. Can it be Friday already?

Hoseok and I lounged in the break room, our feet propped up on the coffee table, Tupperwares in our laps. The lack of a proper dining table didn’t bother us; it still beat eating at our desks.

“How’s it going with the undergrad?” Hoseok asked, mouth full.

“I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with her,” I said, dead serious.

Hoseok laughed, even though I wasn’t joking.

“All she does is nod at what I say,” I elaborated. “Like one of those bobblehead dolls.” I stretched my neck and bobbed my head for effect. “Except she has bangs flopping all over her face when she nods frantically at everything I say.”

Hoseok snorted but kept eating.

“And she stutters! Well, when she speaks, that is. She doesn’t speak much. I kind of like that about her.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Sounds like you’re in love, bro.”

“Fuck you, Hoseok,” I shot back, uninterested. I already knew where this was heading.

“Is she cute?” Hoseok asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

“She’s a baby.”

“Is she a cute baby?”

“Hoseok, she’s… she’s a zygote.”

“Well, maybe with this zygote, you’ll learn how to be human again.” He turned his attention back to his food.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. You’re not exactly social, bro. All you do is lab stuff and occasionally hang out with me and Serena.”

“What are you talking about? I am social.” My tone came out whiny, betraying my disbelief.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow, gesturing to my Tupperware. “So social that you prefer to eat alone in the lab over joining us in the break room?”

“Do you even hear yourself? You’re such a dork. I eat in here because the lab is a mess, not because I’m antisocial.” I shrugged, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping into my cheeks.

“Whatever you say, Yoongi,” he laughed, clearly unconvinced.  

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about this right now. Instead, I grabbed my backpack, bracing myself for the next round of research duties.

After a few weeks of working together, I had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that the undergrad was following instructions better than I’d expected. If I could just ignore her ridiculous lab coat and the way those bangs flopped annoyingly over her forehead, she wouldn’t be half bad. The real annoyance, though, was her constant presence invading my space. But honestly, it could be worse; at least she wasn’t stammering nonstop. Most of the time, she barely spoke, and mercifully, she didn’t ask a ton of questions.

As I walked back from lunch with Hoseok, I was surprised to realize I didn’t dread the thought of the undergrad being in the lab when I arrived. Maybe having her shadow me wouldn’t be the end of the world after all.

Of course, the moment that thought crossed my mind, I jinxed myself. Stepping into the lab, I found her cleaning my bench, and a wave of irritation crashed over me. 

“What the heck are you doing?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She flinched, turning slowly to face me, her gloved hands still gripping an ethanol squeeze bottle. “I-I just thought I’d clean up a bit,” she stammered.

“Did you touch my samples?” I shot back, a surge of panic coursing through me.

“Which samples?” 

“Those!” I pointed at the upside-down tubes that had been perfectly positioned when I left, now carelessly shoved to the side. 

“I-I just mov—”

“Did you touch my RNA samples?” Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air—an annoyingly stupid fish. “Do you know how labile RNA is?”

“L-la-labile?” 

“Yes! Unstable—easily degradable. The main point here: you don’t touch my RNA samples!” 

“I-I used gloves… I’m sorry,” she mumbled, tears shimmering in her eyes. 

If she started crying, I was really going to lose it. 

I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose to calm the storm brewing inside me. Slipping on my own gloves, I gently set my samples back in their rightful place, praying I hadn’t lost a week’s worth of work. 

I could hear her sniffling next to me, and I groaned out loud. “Why don’t you and your la-la-lab coat coat go find something useful to do?” 

I listened as she shuffled away, clearly eager to escape my sight. I should have known better than to think this arrangement would work out.

From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org   Sent: Monday, February 14, 2024, 6:27 AM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Yoongi,  

Part of the undergrad training involves more than just doing chores. Cleaning dishes, stacking pipette tips, and capping tubes do not count as experiments.  

I expect your undergrad to have enough experimental data to give a presentation at the end of the semester.  

Jin  

What the hell? Did she tell him I’m only having her do chores? 

Shit, shit, shit, shit. 

Jin was right, though. All she’d done these past few weeks were chores. Aside from that little incident with my RNA samples, she hadn’t completely messed up yet. Maybe I should cut her some slack and give her a real project. She might learn something—or at the very least, realize how frustrating science could be and decide to give up on it sooner rather than later. 

Oh God, how was she going to give a presentation if she couldn’t even say one coherent sentence without stuttering? 

This would be an embarrassment, not just for her but for me too. If she messed up, she’d make me look bad. 

Decision made. I needed to lighten up a bit and actually try to teach her something.

On Thursday, the undergrad was busy with her chores when I approached her, project sheet in hand. 

She looked at it, her eyebrows raised. “What is this?” 

“Your project for the next few weeks.” 

Her face lit up with excitement. 

“You didn’t have to go crying to Jin. I was going to give you a project anyway.” 

Her smile faltered into a frown. “W-What are you talking about?” She gazed up at me, bewildered, but I waved her off, unwilling to explain further. 

“Enough chattering. Those tubes aren’t going to wash themselves.” 

Gotcha, undergrad. Your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.

It was the first week of real work for the undergrad, and I felt a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. My palms were clammy, and my heart raced uncomfortably. 

Am I excited about this? Nah… I’m probably just hungry.

“Do you know what PCR is?” 

She nodded eagerly, pulling out her notepad, ready to take notes. 

I explained how I wanted her to amplify two toxin genes from a set of H. pylori samples that had just arrived that morning from the hospital. Naturally, I only gave her a small subset of the total samples. It was a manageable number—enough for her to play around with, but not so many that I’d be ready to murder her if she messed up.

As usual, the undergrad took notes on everything I said, jotting down even where I pointed out the locations of various equipment. For all I knew, she was sketching a detailed map of the lab in that notepad of hers.

The undergrad sat at the bench, PCR tubes lined up in front of her, the protocol to her left, pipettes to her right, and a rack of reagents looming in the back. I watched her as she stared at everything, nervously picking at the edges of her gloves. 

She was going to drive me insane. 

“Do you know how to use the pipettes?” 

She looked up at me, shaking her head timidly. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” My voice came out louder than intended, and she flinched. 

We were never going to get anywhere like this. 

I took a deep breath and tried again, grabbing one of the micropipettes. “You set the volume here.” I pointed to the rings. “Clockwise to increase, counterclockwise to decrease.” 

I demonstrated, twisting the rings as I explained the display window and where to discard the disposable tips when she was done. 

After a few trials, the undergrad carefully pipetted into the PCR tubes, preparing the reaction with surprising precision. 

She was focused, making sure not to contaminate anything. It was clear she was paying close attention to every detail. 

Skilled hands, I noted, feeling a flicker of satisfaction. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

I led the undergrad into the darkroom, where shadows clung to the walls like forgotten secrets, ready to ensnare us. The air was thick with a sharp, chemical tang, buzzing with anticipation as we approached the agarose gel. The PCR products shimmered faintly under the dim light, a hidden treasure waiting to be revealed. Surprisingly, a flicker of excitement sparked within me, a rare departure from my usual brooding.

“The ethidium bromide binds to the DNA,” I explained, my voice echoing softly in the sterile silence. “When we expose it to UV light, it fluoresces an orange color. You’ll see the PCR products light up on the gel.”

She walked beside me, clutching the gel like a sacred relic, her wide eyes absorbing every word. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind, likely wishing she had her notepad to document my brilliance, as if capturing my words would somehow validate her existence.

As we stepped into the darkroom, she hesitated, like a deer caught in headlights, before gingerly placing the gel inside the UV box. She moved carefully, avoiding the pitfalls of air bubbles that could ruin everything. Either she’d done this before, or she had the sense to read up on it. 

Good. I liked a prepared undergrad.

Once she’d set the gel, I instructed her to turn off the lights. The room plunged into darkness, and I leaned in, my heart racing a little faster. Peering into the UV box, I couldn’t help but grin. “Well, look at that. All your reactions worked.”

“Really?” Her voice trembled from the back, laced with a quiver of hope.

“Yeah,” I called back, though the shadows played tricks on me. “Come closer so you can see.”

I waited, but she lingered in the gloom, frozen as if afraid to approach the light. “Come here, I don’t bite,” I coaxed, trying to keep my tone lighthearted.

Finally, she moved, her profile illuminated under the eerie purple glow. Her eyes widened, and a smile broke across her face like dawn piercing through a dark night. I snorted softly, amused by how easily undergrads were impressed.

After she soaked in the spectacle, I showed her how to take a photo of her gel, and we returned to the lab. She began dutifully filling in her lab notebook, and a glimmer of pride swelled within me. That was until I checked her progress later. The notebook was pristine—a meticulous record of her every move since day one. Hope flickered in my chest, only to sputter out when I turned to the last page. There it was, taped prominently: a picture of the gel with “All worked!” scrawled underneath, accompanied by a crude smiley face.

A fucking smiley face.

This undergrad, I thought, definitely had a screw loose.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” 

“What’s wrong with it?” I glanced down at my sweater, a worn piece of fabric riddled with holes—just like my soul. It was what I had been wearing all day, and it sufficed. 

“It has holes in it.”

“And?” I shot back, genuinely baffled. It was just clothing—a shield against the chill of the world.

“Are you making a fashion statement? You do know grunge was over twenty years ago? I know you live in Seattle and all, but I’m not digging the Kurt Cobain look… at all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. “I’m starting to regret bringing you to this.”

“Relax, it’s just beers with Hobi and Serena,” she said, rolling her eyes like I was some petulant child.

I raked a hand through my hair, but it sprang back defiantly, so I slapped on a beanie to cover the chaos.

“You know, Yoongi, it wouldn’t hurt to wash your hair once in a while. How are you going to meet any cute girls?”

Here we go again.

“Yoonji, would you get off my case? I don’t want to meet anybody.” 

Yoonji dropped in at least once a month, a whirlwind of concern and relentless nagging. She never believed me when I claimed to be fine over the phone. 

It was endearing, in a way, but mostly a burden I didn’t need. My family was my anchor, yet their relentless need to take care of me felt like shackles.

“Okay, okay... let’s go then.” 

“It’s just beers, for crying out loud.” 

“I’m telling you to relax.” 

In the car, I felt her eyes boring into me. “It’s just... I worry about you.” She brushed her hand along my arm, and I sighed.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, but I could see the disbelief flickering across her face. “Really. I’m just tired of school. I want to start real life already. I’ll be twenty-six this summer, and I’m still stuck in this academic limbo.”

“Hell, I’m twenty-seven!” Hoseok said when we arrived at the bar, lifting his pint in a mock salute. “And look at all the fuck I give!” He downed it with a flourish.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I shot back.

“Hey,” Serena interjected, her tone warning.

“It’s okay…” Hoseok waved dismissively. “He’s just got a bad case of graduate bitterness.”

Graduate bitterness... yes, that was exactly it. A malaise that settled in my bones like a persistent chill. I glanced around, my throat tightening as if the weight of my uncertainty was squeezing the life out of me.

I led the undergrad through the winding corridors of the building, our footsteps echoing like whispers in the shadows. She walked beside me in near silence, her gaze occasionally darting down to her notepad, scribbling furiously as if the ink might escape her. If only she spent as much time observing her surroundings as she did with her frantic notes, she wouldn’t need them to find her way back to the sequencing facility.

There was something peculiar about her. She avoided meeting my eyes, her demeanor skirting the edges of unease, a deep-seated shyness that pricked at my irritation. And Hoseok thinks I’m the antisocial one!

As we turned a corner, I pondered the unspoken rules of social behavior in the lab when we suddenly bumped into Jungkook Wand, another graduate student known for his knack for lurking around.

“Min,” he greeted, his gaze fixated on my undergrad, likely eyeing her in that ridiculous lab coat that looked like it had seen better days. Why she insisted on wearing that tattered garment was beyond me.

“We missed you at happy hour,” he added, his eyes still glued to her, ignoring me completely.

Every Friday, the department hosted a gathering that, while lame, at least offered beer. Last week, Yoonji was visiting, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of dragging her into that debacle.

“Yeah, my cousin was in town,” I managed, trying to shake off the feeling of being an afterthought.

Jungkook’s smile widened as he turned his attention to her. I should probably introduce them, but for the life of me, her name eluded me. Panic set in like a cold sweat.

“Hi,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin that felt a bit too eager.

Shit. What was her name again?

The girl glanced up at me, and a flash of annoyance crossed her features, as if she could read my mind. “I’m Y/N,” she said, her voice laced with indignation as she extended her hand. The scowl she shot me could peel paint off the walls.

Y/N. The name landed in my mind like a lead weight. How had I forgotten it?

Before I could muster an excuse, Jungkook was launching into conversation, his gaze lingering on her with a familiarity that irked me. I didn’t like Jungkook, nor the way he looked at my undergrad, so I steered her away from him, back toward the safety of the lab.

Now, what was her name again? Damn it.

The following week, I was knee-deep in sequence alignments at my cluttered desk when the fire alarm shrieked, slicing through the stillness like a knife. I turned to find my undergrad, her wide eyes betraying sheer panic. 

She thought it was real. In that moment, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. 

“Run, Becca! Run!” I shouted, leaping from my chair.

“What?” 

The color drained from her face, and I couldn't help but laugh as confusion and fear played out across her features— priceless. I doubled over, laughter bubbling out like soda from a shaken can. 

The alarm blared on, drowning out her startled gasp as she clutched a rack of tubes, trembling. “It’s just a fire drill! Relax!” I finally managed to gasp.

She set the tubes down, took a deep breath, and shot me a glare, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That was not funny,” she huffed, her voice laced with indignation. “And my name is Y/N!”

With that, she stormed off, leaving me with echoes of my laughter still ringing in my ears. 

Oh, being social was unexpectedly entertaining!

The fire alarms continued to test my patience, ringing again and again. Each time, I chuckled at the memory of her startled expression. Now, standing outside for what felt like the fifth time, I glanced sideways at Y/N, who was shifting her weight from foot to foot, hands shoved into her pockets. 

“Want to grab some coffee?” I asked, feeling an odd urge to make amends.

She blinked at me, surprise flickering across her face as if she couldn’t believe I was actually talking to her.

The cafeteria at the library was our destination, and we walked in silence, the clouds parting for a moment to let in the faintest hint of sunshine. 

As we stood in line, I noticed her tense shoulders. Suddenly, she muttered a string of curses under her breath. Before I could react, her arm was around mine, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, bewildered.

She maintained her smile but released me, stepping in front. “Say something funny,” she ordered, her voice low and urgent.

“What?”

Then she erupted in laughter, leaving me standing there in utter confusion.

She pressed a hand against my chest, and I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or alarmed. Was this how lab partners acted in her world?

But just as quickly as the laughter came, it faded, and she stepped back, looking sheepish, as if the moment had been a strange dream.

I moved up in line to get my coffee. “Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. I decided to drop the subject entirely.

As we started heading back, she caught up to me, her expression suddenly earnest. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “There’s this guy, Jonah. He won’t take a hint. I thought if he saw me with someone…”

I tuned out her words, her rhythm a blur as I realized just how bizarre everything was.

Could undergrads get any weirder?

Sitting alone on a bench Wednesday afternoon, I savored the solitude when Jungkook appeared, looming over me like a vulture. 

“Min,” he said, his tone dripping with false familiarity.

I glared at him, not in the mood for whatever nonsense he was about to spill. 

“Where’s that cute little thing you were with?” 

“Who?”

“You know, the one in the colorful lab coat.”

Colorful? I snorted, recalling the eyesore she wore.

“She’s not here,” I replied curtly.

“Got her number?”

“Why would I have her number? And why do you want it?”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his face. “You know… you and her…”

I cut him off, anger flaring in my chest. “Me and her what?”

“Is she up for grabs?”

I couldn’t believe he’d come to my lab just to ask about her.

“Jungkook, she’s an undergrad.”

He laughed, completely oblivious. “Dude, have you looked at her? She’s fine.”

“Yeah, and she’s crazy.”

“Even better!” His expression made my stomach churn.

“I don’t have her number, and if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

With that, I shoved my earbuds in, blocking him out as he stormed off, his words echoing in my mind.

Fucking creep.

Even though it was Friday—one of those days Y/N usually avoided—the lab felt off-kilter, like an old, rickety house holding its breath. She hovered at my desk while I pulled up the sequencing results on my laptop. Last night, I’d sent her a simple email, expecting a casual response. But her reply had come back faster than a ghost in the night. She wanted to see the data today.

As we sat there, the silence between us thickened, almost palpable. Her face was a mask of concentration, but her expressions kept faltering, crumpling like old paper. Not that I cared too much; she had to learn that research was 90% disappointment wrapped in frustration.

“Why didn’t it work?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness, as if she were mourning a lost hope.

“Maybe you made a mistake?” I suggested, trying to sound casual.

“I was very careful,” she shot back, defensive, her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pounce.

How typical. Pre-med students always thought they were immune to failure, that the universe owed them success on a silver platter.

“It happens,” I shrugged, trying to dismiss the tension.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her brows knitting together.

“There's a reason it’s called research. If you only had to do it once, it would be called a search.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“You start over.”

“From the beginning?” Her voice trembled, disbelief flickering in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she gazed at her notebook, defeated. Her eyes flitted to the calendar on the wall, and her pencil scratched furiously on the pad. “Can I come tomorrow? I want to have cells growing by Monday.”

Her eagerness surprised me. I added “overachiever” to the growing list of quirks that made Y/N so peculiar.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know that.”

“Don’t you have a frat party to attend?” I quipped, but her glare silenced me, a reprimand that cut through the lab's sterile air. “Fine, come tomorrow,” I relented, knowing I’d be here anyway. Weekends in the lab were the best; no distractions, just the hum of machinery and the click of keys.

“Awesomesauce!” she chirped, her smile lighting up the dim room. I rolled my eyes, annoyed yet impressed by her determination. Maybe, just maybe, she had what it took for grad school after all.

Saturdays were sacred—my little slice of peace amid the storm of classes and lab reports. After a killer morning workout, I made my way back to the lab, my damp hair fluttering in the cool breeze. Just as I settled into my zone, my phone buzzed with a message that snapped me back to reality. 

“Mr. Graduate Student, I’m at the front of the building. Y/N.”

I chuckled, shaking my head at her cheesy attempt at humor. By the time I reached the entrance, I found her wrestling with her hair, tying it up into a high ponytail that looked like it could give anyone a headache just by looking at it. But when she caught sight of me, her face lit up with a grin that could brighten the cloudiest day.

“Very funny,” I replied dryly as I held the door open for her. “It’s Yoongi, remember?”

As we stepped inside, the silence stretched between us, thick and awkward. I considered tossing out a quip about her hairstyle or her lab coat, but then a mischievous prank began to brew in my mind—dark and delightful, like a noxious weed spreading through my thoughts.

“Start your experiment from scratch,” I said, forcing a serious tone. “Could be that my reagents were contaminated.”

Her eyes widened, and I could barely suppress a smirk. It was a complete lie, of course; the old autoclave in the corner was already wheezing like an ancient beast. But picturing her panic was too tempting. 

Settling at my bench, I could barely contain my excitement. But instead of the expected rush of alarm, there was a loud crash—glass shattering like a million tiny dreams—and then silence. 

What the hell was that?

I found her on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass that sparkled like lost hopes. The autoclave hissed and wheezed, steam curling around us like a ghost. I rushed to her side, trying to stem the leak with my hands. 

“What happened?” I asked, crouching beside her. She looked like a wilted flower, her head buried in her knees, eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?” I tried again, dread pooling in my stomach as I saw her trembling hands. Her breath came in quick bursts, and my heart raced. 

She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, her palm pressed hard against her leg. “Let me see,” I urged, only to be hit with a wave of horror: a deep gash across her palm, crimson pooling onto the cold tiles.

Oh, no...

Panic surged as I scooped her up, her fragile body slumping against mine. “You’re okay,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow. “It’s okay.” 

I hurried her to the sink, the cool water a sharp contrast to the rising heat in the lab. She buried her face in my chest, her panic palpable against my shirt. 

“Is there still blood?” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mostly gone. But we need to get to the ER,” I insisted, urgency tightening my tone.

She groaned, eyes still shut tight, her composure slipping away. 

“Please, open your eyes,” I pleaded, gently lifting her chin. I rubbed my thumb along her cheek, trying to anchor her to reality.

“Can you walk?” 

She nodded weakly, but when she tried to stand, her legs buckled. I swept her back up, panic clawing at my throat. 

What have I done? The air felt thick with dread, and I knew I had to get her out of there. 

I carried her to my car, the world outside fading into a blur, as if the universe was holding its breath. Carefully, I placed her in the passenger seat, her eyes still shut like she was blocking out the horrors around us. I fastened her seatbelt, feeling the weight of the moment. "Please say something," I urged, glancing at her, desperate for any sign of life.

"I hate blood," she mumbled, voice fragile.

Relief washed over me—she was talking. It struck me as strange that a pre-med student would detest blood. "Are you still dizzy?" 

She nodded, and my heart sank at her admission. The crease in her forehead deepened, and I wanted nothing more than to smooth it away.

"We’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes," I promised, focusing on the road ahead.

"Would you distract me, so I don’t think about the blood?" 

"I don’t know how," I admitted sheepishly.

"Say something funny." 

"Funny? Okay. It’s pretty funny that you want to go to med school and you faint at the sight of blood." 

"Who says I'm pre-med?" she shot back, and I blinked in surprise.

"You're not?" 

"No, and that really wasn’t funny. Talking about blood isn’t going to help me forget about it." 

Frustration clawed at me as I struggled for something to say. 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"Don’t you know any jokes?" There was an edge of frustration in her voice.

"No." 

"Everyone knows at least one joke, Yoongi." The way she said my name sent a jolt through me, tightening my stomach with something close to admiration.

Before I knew it, I blurted out the lamest joke I could remember from college. "Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar," I began, watching her lips twitch upward. "One says, ‘I think I've lost an electron.’ The other asks, ‘Are you sure?’ The first replies, ‘Yes. I'm positive.’"

I cringed at how cheesy it was, but when her smile finally broke through, it felt like winning the lottery.

"That was lame," she said, but the glimmer of her smile gave me hope.

At a red light, I risked a glance at her. Her eyes were still closed, but the pale green tint to her skin had faded, replaced by a healthy glow. My heart swelled with relief.

The driver behind me honked impatiently, snapping me back to reality.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, noticing her fingers curling around her injured wrist. 

She nodded, a pout forming on her lips that made my heart ache. I nearly missed a stop sign, cursing under my breath.

"God, I’m such a jerk," I muttered, guilt gnawing at me. I had messed up, all in the name of a stupid joke. I racked my brain for something else to say but came up empty.

"I don’t know any more jokes, but I was good at geeky pickup lines back in college," I offered, desperate to lift her spirits. Her smile returned, lighting up the car.

"This better be good," she warned teasingly.

"If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase, so I could unzip your genes." 

"Oh my God," she snorted, and I laughed, relieved to see her react. "Did you use that on anybody?" 

"Maybe," I hinted, my chest tightening with excitement.

"Did it work?" 

"No," I admitted, but I was laughing now, and she was grinning, even with her eyes still closed. I was determined to keep her smiling. 

"Oh! Do you like The Police?" 

"The police?" She frowned, confusion crossing her features.

"Yeah…" 

"As in the profession?" 

"No, you dork. The band. Sting's band?" 

"Oh, yeah. I guess." She shrugged.

And against my better judgment, I cleared my throat and began singing. "Every bond you break… Every electron you take…"

Finally, her eyes fluttered open, surprise and delight dancing across her face. I couldn’t help but wiggle my eyebrows, and her smile broadened, banishing the shadows of panic. "Oh, can’t you see, you’re covalently bonded to me…" I sang, pouring my energy into the ridiculousness of it. Nothing felt more beautiful than the light in her eyes. 

How had I never noticed how amazing her smile was before?

We pulled into the University’s Medical Center in under ten minutes, just like I expected. I parked quickly and rushed around to help her out, but she stumbled out on her own, nearly losing her balance. I caught her just before she could face plant onto the pavement—or worse, land hard on her injured hand.

I could feel irritation bubbling up inside me. Did she really think I wouldn’t help? Sure, I was an idiot sometimes, but I still had a decent sense of gentlemanly instincts. 

“Can you walk?” I asked, keeping my hand around her elbow as we approached the entrance.

“I think so,” she replied softly, but I kept my grip steady, guiding her into the emergency room. 

Inside, a flicker of relief hit me—the place was nearly empty, and we should get seen fairly quickly. “Hello,” I said to the front desk lady, who was glued to her computer screen. She glanced up, her expression completely bored, and didn’t reply. Instant dislike. 

“She cut her hand, and it looks deep,” I said, gesturing toward Y/N beside me.

“Name?” The front desk lady’s question hung in the air like a sword about to drop, and suddenly, I froze.

Goddammit…

She didn’t mean my name. My stomach twisted as I desperately searched my memory. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her name again.

It starts with a B, doesn’t it? I racked my brain, stalling as the front desk lady’s eyebrows shot up impatiently.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” came the shaky voice next to me, cutting through my fog of embarrassment.

God, I was such an idiot! I wanted to punch myself for being so careless.

I looked at her—Y/N—and even though she shook her head, a grin crept onto the corner of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, I was forgiven. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… I repeated silently, determined that this time I would remember.

I was convinced that the “doctor” tending to Y/N wasn’t a real doctor—not yet, anyway. He claimed the cut wasn’t deep and that it hadn’t damaged any tendons or nerves. He even said it was clean enough to glue shut, which apparently was a thing now. But my gut twisted with doubt; something about him set off alarms in my head.

Y/N had her eyes squeezed shut, clutching my hand like it was a lifeline while this wannabe physician—Doogie Howser, I mentally dubbed him—cleaned her wound. She perched on the examination table, her injured hand resting on a tray beside her, as I stood behind her, anxiety tightening my chest. In the chaos of her injury and my desperate attempts to care for her, her ponytail had loosened, hanging low at the nape of her neck. A sudden curiosity gripped me: What would her hair look like, cascading down like a waterfall?

“Y/N,” I whispered, leaning closer, needing to say her name again, to engrain it into my memory. “Breathe through your mouth. It’ll help.”

I lingered near her neck, unable to pull away, drawn by something I couldn’t quite name. I tried to find the words to describe her scent—something fresh, like the morning air spilling through an open window—but words failed me. I’d caught a hint of it earlier when I held her close at the sink, but now, in the confined space of the ER, it enveloped me, bringing back echoes of happier times.

Y/N smelled good—no, different. Refreshing, like the world waking up after a long sleep. And I was trapped in this moment, lost in the intoxicating blend of her presence and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

Every time she flinched, my instinct was to lash out at Doogie. I wanted to punch him for every wince that slipped from her lips, but I knew that wouldn’t help; it might just make things worse. I fought against the urge to ask the nurse for someone else to help her, terrified to leave her side. So I stayed, fingers entwined with hers, trying to offer some measure of comfort in the storm of uncertainty.

When Doogie finished and began to bandage her hand, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as she released her grip. I stepped back, taking a breath that felt heavy in my chest. Tension still coiled inside me; I hated that she’d gotten hurt, but a part of me marveled at her resilience. Despite her aversion to blood, she had held herself together with a strength I hadn’t given her credit for. There was more to Y/N than I realized, and that realization struck me hard.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” I said once we were back in the car, the weight of guilt pressing down on me.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault I’m such a klutz.” She offered a radiant smile that twisted my insides with guilt all over again.

“So, what happened?” I asked tentatively, hoping against hope that this wasn’t really my fault.

“I was carrying a rack of test tubes when that thing started shooting vapor out. I freaked out. I thought it was going to explode! So I dropped the tubes and cut my hand trying to pick them up,” she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her voice as she stared down at her hands.

I should have known...

“Shit…” I thumped my head against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Hey, stop.” Her hand reached up to my shoulder, a gentle gesture that only deepened my self-loathing. “You couldn’t possibly have known that thing was going to start leaking, right?” I peeked at her, guilt etched on my face. She scrutinized me, her brow furrowing as realization dawned. “You did know, didn’t you?” Her hand dropped from my shoulder, and I felt the accusation hanging between us like a thick fog.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” I said earnestly, trying to convey the depth of my regret, how much I hated myself for her injury.

“You’re unbelievably cruel!” she shot back, eyebrows knitting together as she glared at me.

She was right, but I felt compelled to explain. “There wasn’t any risk of you getting hurt. The door just leaks a little vapor. I was going to close it after you got scared. It was a stupid joke, Y/N. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

“Well, excuse me for ruining your prank,” she snapped, rolling her eyes and turning away from me.

Sarcasm. Just lovely.

“I am truly sorry. Can you forgive me?” I asked, keeping my gaze on her even though she pointedly avoided me.

“Whatever, Yoongi.” She shrugged, irritation radiating from her as she stared out the window.

I wanted to tell her she was acting like a child, but I held my tongue, knowing that teasing her wouldn’t help my case. Instead, I focused on driving, ruminating on how to make this right again.

How the hell do I fix this?

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I said to Y/N, trying to sound calm even though a knot twisted in my stomach as I parked in front of the research building.

“This is really not necessary, Yoongi. I’m fine,” she replied, brushing off my concern.

“Y/N, can you please, just for once, not contradict me?” I shot back, frustration bubbling under the surface.

“I never contradict you!” she protested, eyes wide in disbelief.

I fixed her with a glare until the tension between us shifted, and a small smile broke through her pout as I climbed out of the car. Maybe I was getting through to her, even just a little.

I dashed into the lab to grab her bag, but was abruptly halted when I spotted Jimin hunched over her bench. An urge to warn Y/N about the mess brewing in the autoclave room hit me hard. 

“Jimin?” I called, feeling an unusual tension in the air as he turned to me, eyes wide like I’d just spoken an alien dialect. We rarely exchanged more than necessary pleasantries. “There’s a big mess in the autoclave room. I’ll be right back to clean it up.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” he shot back, still looking as confused as a cat in a dog park.

“There’s a bunch of glass… I don’t know. My undergrad—she dropped the tubes. I—” The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, and Jimin continued to stare at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. “Never mind,” I muttered, eager to escape the awkwardness.

“How’s that for a change? First, you have her doing your chores, and now you’re cleaning up after her,” he called after me.

I spun around to glare at him, irritation sparking. Sure, he was right, but I had bigger problems than petty lab gossip. I left him behind, shaking off the encounter.

When I climbed back into the car, Y/N was waiting for me, eyebrow raised, holding a CD case. My stomach dropped as I recognized it—my mom’s treasured Carpenters album.

“Really, Yoongi?” she asked, her smile widening. “The Carpenters? Okay, cool.” She casually tucked the CD case back into the glove box.

She was teasing me—smiling at me. That had to be a good sign, right? Maybe she had forgiven me after all.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on her face, how her smile lit up the whole car. It was stunning; how had I never noticed it before? A pang of regret hit me for all the moments I had let slip by.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—uh, how’s your living situation?” I mumbled as I started the car and drove off, reminding myself to keep it together. She’s just an undergrad, I thought, shaking off the flutter in my stomach.

As I parked in front of her building, my chest tightened again. I was still angry—mostly at myself—for letting her get hurt. I wouldn’t feel at ease until she was safely tucked inside her apartment.

“Are you still dizzy?” I asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

“I think I’m all right now,” she replied, a small grin dancing on her lips.

Would it be weird if I walked her to her door? Did guys still do that? It had been ages since I’d been on a date. What was the protocol these days?

What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t a date.

But she didn’t look a hundred percent. Maybe carrying her bag would help. I climbed out of the car, and she shot me a bewildered look as I opened her door.

“I’ll feel better once I know you’re safe inside,” I insisted, my voice firm.

“I’m fine. You don’t hav—”

“Please, humor me,” I interrupted.

Y/N hesitated, then took my hand as she stumbled out of the car. I grabbed her backpack, and we walked inside together, a strange sense of connection warming the air between us.

At her door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. When she turned to look at me, her brown eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t quite pin down.

“I’ll see you Tuesday then,” I said, handing her the bag.

“Yes. Tuesday.” Her gaze flickered up through her long lashes, and I was momentarily mesmerized. “Not Monday.” A playful grin crept across her face, and I felt my breath catch at the sight of her eyes crinkling with delight. “You know why not Monday?”

I was still entranced by her smile and completely missed the point she was trying to make. “Because rainy days and Mondays always get me down,” she said, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

Great… she’s making fun of me.

I took a deep breath and snorted, forcing myself to look away from her lips. “You’re such a dork, Y/N. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Too long.” Her giggle sent my heart racing, a rhythm I couldn't ignore.

“Good night, Y/N,” I replied, managing a smile despite my racing heart.

As I walked back to my car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and was horrified to find myself grinning like a fool. I frowned and climbed inside, but before I could drive away, I pulled my mom’s CD from the glove box, popped it in, and began to hum along.

Why do birds suddenly appear… every time… you are near?

I slammed on the brakes and hit the eject button.

Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, when I returned to the lab, Jimin was gone. I started cleaning up the autoclave room, picking up shards of glass and mopping away the blood from the floor. As I worked, I spotted Y/N’s lab coat next to the sink, and my heart sank. It didn’t look festive anymore; it resembled a tattered Halloween costume.

Shit… She loved that ridiculous thing, and now it was ruined.

Before I knew it, I found myself washing the lab coat. I tried everything, even bleach. When I was done, the blood stains had vanished, but so had the whimsical bacteria drawings she’d painstakingly decorated it with.

Fuck my life...

When Hoseok called, I told him the chances of me making it to Serena’s party were slim. “I’m stuck in the lab and still have a long way to go,” I said, leaving out the details of my time spent doodling on a lab coat that now looked like a toddler’s art project. I also didn’t mention that I was starting Y/N’s experiment along with my own.

After inspecting the now-ruined lab coat, I realized I couldn’t give it back to her. Tossing it felt wrong, though—I’d just spent hours on the damn thing. So, I wrapped it in a plastic bag and tucked it under my desk, trying to forget it existed.

I left the lab after two in the morning, exhausted but restless. My mind buzzed with thoughts, not about experiments this time, but about Y/N—how she had gotten hurt because of me, and yet she hadn’t unleashed her fury. Somehow, she felt bigger than this. Bigger than me.

God, I’ve been such an asshole.

Images of her haunted me throughout the night. The way she smiled at my lame jokes, how she laughed at my terrible rendition of “Every Breath You Take.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sung to someone, not since my mom had forced me to sing The Carpenters with her. I turned over in bed, a smile creeping onto my face at the memory.

I didn’t have to be a jerk to Y/N anymore. I didn’t want to be. It wasn’t her fault grad school was a pain. If anything, having her around made it bearable. Maybe I could lighten up a bit… or maybe we could both learn something from this. No, I wanted to be nicer to her. I wanted to see her smile.

I want to make her smile?

First The Carpenters, now this?

When did I turn into such a marshmallow?

Monday night in the dingy gym felt like a scene straight out of a bad movie. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh, sterile glow that did nothing to uplift the atmosphere. Hoseok and I were at the bench press, trading off sets like two battered soldiers in a war that would never be chronicled. I stood behind him, bracing for the weight, but my gaze was pulled away, caught in the orbit of something infinitely more captivating.

There she was—Y/N—effortlessly gliding on the treadmill like she was born to run. Her ponytail swung rhythmically with each stride, a pendulum marking the time as she jogged. My breath hitched, a tightening in my chest as I let my eyes wander down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. And then—oh God—those shorts. Tiny and black, they hugged her body in a way that made my heart race uncontrollably.

The fabric didn’t just cling; it cradled her curves, indenting just enough in the middle to draw the eye downwards. I could almost feel the heat radiating off her skin, my mind spiraling into places I really didn’t want it to go.

“Dude! Hold the bar, would ya?” Hoseok’s voice jolted me from my daze. I blinked hard, shaking off the spell as I refocused on the weights pressing down on him.

“Right, sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling with the bar as I lifted it off him.

Hoseok wiped the sweat from his brow, the glistening drops catching the unforgiving light. I tried desperately to keep my thoughts in check, to suppress the smirk that threatened to creep onto my face, but my eyes betrayed me, fixating once more on Y/N’s ass as it bounced with every determined step on the treadmill.

“What is it?” Hoseok shot me a sideways glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. He knew. Damn him. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

“Nothing,” I shot back, the word cracking like ice beneath my weight. I raked a hand through my hair, feeling more like a deer caught in headlights than a man. “That’s... um... that’s my undergrad.”

“Your undergrad?” He nearly shouted, and I winced at the volume.

“Shut up!” I hissed, heat creeping up my neck.

“She’s your undergrad?” He lowered his voice, his tone conspiratorial, as if we were discussing some top-secret mission.

“Yes,” I said, willing myself to tear my gaze from Y/N and muster some semblance of composure. “I don’t know why she’s here. This is the first time I’ve seen her in this gym.”

“Are you kidding?” Hoseok replied, incredulous. “She’s here all the time! You’ve just never noticed because you’re practically blind.”

My eyes darted back to her. She was still running, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing behind me. Could Hoseok really be right? Had I been so wrapped up in my own world that I hadn’t seen her before?

But then again, I didn’t recognize anyone else in this place. I came here every day—every damn day—and not one face looked familiar. Blind. I was completely blind.

And yet, here I was, rooted to the spot, entranced by the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her legs flexed with each determined stride. It was as if she had cast a spell over me, one I didn’t want to break. But I had to; I was standing there like a moron, the weight of Hoseok’s gaze a smirk stretched across his face as he shifted to take his place on the bench.

“Yoongi!” he called, pulling me from my daydream. “It’s your turn.”

I shook my head as if waking up from a fog and stepped to the bench, but my mind remained tangled in thoughts of what I’d just seen. Y/N’s form, bouncing like it was teasing me, was too much. Too distracting. My body was responding in ways I hadn’t felt in years, and it took every ounce of willpower to focus on lifting weights instead of ogling her.

Then, as if she sensed my eyes on her, Y/N turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with mine. For a brief moment, the world melted away—the gym, the weight, the noise—all faded into the background as our eyes met. She faltered on the treadmill, her grip tightening on the bars like a lifeline before she recovered just in time.

What was I doing? I didn’t realize I was moving until I stood beside her, the tension thick enough to slice through the air.

“Hi,” I managed, the word slipping out like a confession.

“Hi?” Her smile lit up the stale space between us, brightening everything. “Who are you and what did you do to my bitter grad student?”

“What?” I stammered, disbelief knotting my stomach. “You’ve seen me here before?”

*Her eyes rolled in a way that was both exasperating and endearing. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m saying hi now. So, hi.”

“Hi…” she giggled, and I felt a low groan bubble up from my chest. What was happening? I hated how she made me feel, how she toppled everything I thought I had under control.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, grasping for something to anchor myself in this whirlwind of emotions.

“It’s fine,” she said, lifting her bandaged hand like it was a trophy. But I was lost, mesmerized by the way her lips moved, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and how the sweat glistened on her skin.

I needed to leave before my body betrayed me further. “Um, I should go,” I interrupted, offering a shaky goodbye as I fled, a whirlwind of confusion and unwanted desire crashing over me.

What the hell was happening to me?

I ran home, my legs pumping, heart racing, trying to outrun the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. It had been four years since Estelle, and the memory felt as distant as a long-forgotten dream. But Y/N was everywhere now, invading my thoughts—her freckles, her laugh, those bangs that had once annoyed me but now framed her face like a masterpiece.

I stormed through my apartment, shedding my sweat-soaked clothes, bewildered by this tempest of feelings. I couldn’t fathom why it had taken me so long to notice her, why she had pierced through the fog of my indifference and settled in my mind like an unwelcome guest.

In the shower, the warm water cascaded over me, soothing yet insufficient to wash away the turmoil. She was a kid, for Christ’s sake! Nineteen? Twenty? Too young, too innocent for someone like me. I banged my head against the tiled wall, cursing my own weakness.

And yet, even as I stood there, I could feel her presence lingering, like a ghost clinging to the edges of my consciousness—a haunting I couldn’t shake. Was I becoming one of those men who pursued young girls, crossing lines drawn in the sand, sliding down that slippery slope of desire? The universe had a wicked sense of humor.

God, I hoped I wouldn’t see her again at the gym. The very thought sent a chill down my spine—a mix of longing and guilt. But there I was, fantasizing about her hands instead of my own.

When did I become such a creep?

I’m in a foul mood. Not a glimmer of sunshine inside me, just the dense fog of irritability that seems to thicken the air around me. Maybe it’s the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders, or maybe it’s just Tuesday. Either way, I know I’ll probably regret having lunch with Hoseok today, but deep down, I’m still holding onto the hope that, by some miracle, he didn’t notice my bizarre behavior at the gym last night.

As I step into the lunchroom, Hoseok’s voice slices through the stillness. “What the heck happened to you yesterday?”

Well, so much for miracles.

“Nothing. Why?” I try to sound casual as I toss my food into the microwave, but my heart races in protest.

“Nothing? You nearly killed me, bolted off to talk to Y/N, and then stormed out. That seems normal to you?” He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin stretching across his face.

I shrug, feigning indifference, but my stomach twists.

“We were supposed to have drinks with Serena and her friend with the—” he gestures dramatically, “the big personality.”

“Listen, you and Serena need to stop setting me up with her friends.”

“Why? Did you take a vow of celibacy or something?”

“I’m just not in the mood for this today, Hoseok.” I plop down in a chair, my food forgotten.

“Is it because of Y/N?” he asks, cheeks bulging with half-chewed food.

“No,” I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “And her name is Y/N, by the way.”

“OH. MY. GOSH. It is! You’re totally crushing on her!” Hoseok leaps from his chair, fork aimed at me like a weapon. His eyes widen as if he’s just uncovered a major conspiracy.

“What? NO!”

“Dude, you remembered her name!” He plops back down beside me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Hoseok, what does that—”

“Oh man. This is too good... like, really, really good.” His grin is the kind that makes me want to punch him—or maybe just smack some sense into him.

“Hoseok, please. Just for one day…” I rub my forehead, trying to ease the confusion tightening my temples. The last thing I need is Hoseok’s theories swirling around my mind like a chaotic storm.

“Okay, okay…” He continues to chew, stealing glances at me every few seconds. “So, when’s Yoonji coming?” he asks, smirking, and I shoot him a glare that could curdle milk.

So what if I remembered her name? It hardly means anything. I’ve been working with her for weeks now. I’m not some clueless idiot; I can remember a name. I don’t care what Hoseok or Yoonji think. This is nothing. This doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does. Because Y/N, not “the girl” or “the undergrad,” is going to be in the lab when I return. And I’m not just aware of it—I’m looking forward to it. I want to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

I want to hear her giggle? Jesus, I need to get a grip on myself.

My bad mood evaporates the moment I spot Y/N at my bench, scribbling away in her notepad. Her hair cascades over her shoulder, wild and free. It should bother me—should send alarm bells ringing—but it doesn’t. It looks soft and inviting, and suddenly, all I want is to run my fingers through it.

Okay… I’ve really lost it now.

And just like that, my bad mood crashes back in.

“I can’t find my lab coat,” she says, tying her hair up with an intensity that almost makes me envious.

I feel a spark of irritation at the safety rules that dictate her hair must be tied back. I find myself imagining the kinds of experiments that would allow her to leave it down, just so I could watch it flow freely.

“Do you know where it could be?” she asks, glancing up at me.

I’ve completely lost track of her words, staring at her blankly.

“My lab coat?” she repeats, tilting her head.

Right… the lab coat.

“Let me get you a new one. That one was all covered in blood.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wash it.”

“We have lab coats here, Y/N—new ones. I’ll get you one,” I say, moving past her, determination pushing me forward.

She stops me, grabbing my elbow. “Please, can I have my old one back?” Her eyes are wide and earnest, as if I hold the key to some sacred treasure.

A flush of embarrassment rises in me, and instead of confessing, I lie. “I threw it away.”

“What? Why?” Her gaze pierces through my flimsy excuse.

“It was covered in blood!” I bark, frustration bubbling over.

“I could have washed it!” she snaps, defiance igniting her eyes.

“I’m getting you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one. Is this some cruel joke? Because if it is, I’d really, really like my lab coat back. It means a lot to me.” The shift in her expression from anger to sadness tugs at something deep within me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, like I’ve just crushed her puppy.

Realization washes over me like a cold wave: I’m making her cry. With a deep sigh, I relent. “Okay, I didn’t get rid of it.”

“Oh thank God,” she breathes, closing her eyes in relief.

“But… I tried to wash it, and the bloodstains wouldn’t come out. I thought it would be a good idea to use bleach. And it was. I mean, it got rid of the bloodstains, but it also erased your drawings.”

“Oh no…” Her eyes fly open, panic etching her features.

“I’m sorry. Can I please get you a new one?” I plead, hoping to smooth over this disaster before it spirals further.

“I would really prefer to have my old one back,” she insists, crossing her arms defiantly, her gaze unwavering.

Jesus! Why does she have to be so difficult?

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I groan. She’s staring at me like she’s just won the lottery, and I can’t bring myself to back down. “Fine…” I reach under my desk for the bag containing her lab coat and hand it over, feeling like I’m offering her a corpse.

I should have burned the damn thing.

Her gasp as she pulls the coat from the bag makes my stomach drop.

“Oh my gosh!” She turns it around, inspecting the shapes I drew in a moment of misguided creativity. When she spots my pathetic attempt at rewriting “Bacteria Rule” on the back, she giggles, and I swear my heart stumbles.

How do I keep up with her?

One minute, she’s annoyed; the next, she’s crying; now, she’s laughing. It’s like watching a storm change directions on a whim.

“You… did you do this?” She glances up at me, her eyelashes still damp, and my chest tightens painfully.

“Yeah, it looks even more ridiculous now. Didn’t think that was possible. Would you please let me get you a new one?”

“Oh no. I’m wearing this one,” she chirps, slipping her arms into the sleeves like she’s donning a crown.

“Please say you’re kidding.”

“What? It’s perfect!” she beams, buttoning the coat closed, that radiant smile piercing through my irritation.

Even as she parades around in that god-awful coat, all I can think about is pulling her close and kissing her senseless. It’s ridiculous and utterly baffling, but I can’t shake it.

I really must have lost it now.

The morning air felt heavy, thick with a strange malaise that weighed on me like a thick blanket. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Boss?" Y/N chirped, her pen clicking in a cheerful rhythm as she flipped open her notebook, the sound almost irritatingly upbeat.

"Don’t call me Boss," I grumbled, trying to shake off the oppressive darkness that seemed to cling to me like damp fog.

"Okay, Grumpy. What are we doing today?" Her smile was a bright spark against the backdrop of my brooding mood.

I could tell she was trying to be funny, deliberately poking at my irritation. With an exasperated huff, I shoved the list of activities at her. "Try not to mess up this time, Becca."

She took the list with a theatrical pout, and I stifled a real smile beneath my carefully crafted mask of indifference—a skill I'd perfected over the years. 

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the list. "I thought I was starting from scratch."

"You are," I replied, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible.

"But you did all these steps already." She pointed to the initial tasks, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I was bored Saturday," I said, as if boredom were an acceptable excuse for taking the initiative.

Her eyes darted between the list and mine, a spark of awe lighting up her face. "You started my experiment for me?"

The way she looked at me made my skin crawl—a mixture of discomfort and something warmer I didn’t want to acknowledge. I clamped down on my tongue, suppressing the urge to explain myself. 

"You better get cracking, Y/L/N. There's a seminar at four I want to attend."

Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer before she shook it off, returning to her notebook. A sense of relief washed over me. 

We worked in silence, but I could feel her stealing glances at me like a kid peeking into a haunted house. I knew—I just knew—I had crossed some invisible line. What I felt was tangled, a confusion I was desperate to untangle.

"What’s the seminar about?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity as we carried bottles of growth media to the incubators.

"I don’t know," I said, holding the door for her as we entered the incubator room.

"Then why are you going?" She squatted to stow the bottles inside, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain.

"Free food." I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent.

"Seriously?" She looked up at me, disbelief written all over her features.

"Y/N… if you go to grad school, you’ll learn to appreciate the majesty of free food."

When she stood up, she released my hand with a huff, her pride surfacing. "When I go to grad school, I’ll enjoy the seminars, even without the free food."

"Right…" I turned away, shaking my head.

"So, can I come?" she asked shyly, her voice nearly drowned out by the hum of the incubators.

"You want to come to the seminar?" I shot her a skeptical glance.

"Hells to the yeah!" 

I suppressed a snort, the surprise of her enthusiasm bubbling up inside me. "Why?"

"I might learn something."

"Okay, you can come, but the la-la-lab coat stays." 

The thought of her actually being excited about attending a seminar with me sent a strange thrill through my chest, one that both excited and unnerved me.

As we made our way to the seminar, Y/N rattled on about her dreams for grad school, her voice bubbling over with energy. I struggled to interject, her words flowing like a vibrant stream, full of life.

When we reached the seminar room, she shook her head at my heaping plate of food. I settled into my seat, grateful for the chance to hide from the annoyed glances of the people behind us. Y/N plopped down beside me, her nervous energy radiating from her.

"That one with the sweater vest is Prof. Waylon," I said, nodding toward him. "He has a serious case of narcolepsy. Snores through the entire talk but wakes up right on cue to ask the hardest questions."

She giggled, and the sound pierced through the fog that had settled around me.

"And over there, with the red bow tie, is Dr. Amun-Kebi. Brilliant but completely bonkers—he discovered Quorum Sensing, yet can’t make eye contact because he’s too busy staring at the ceiling."

She snorted, laughter bubbling up as she covered her mouth, her joy infectious.

"Then there’s Jin," I continued, "who dresses like he’s going to a board meeting every day. Knows more adjectives than a thesaurus, but his favorite is definitely 'fascinating.'"

I mimicked Jin’s exaggerated tone, and Y/N laughed again, drawing some disapproving throat-clearing from the folks behind us.

"Main point is, Y/N," I said, "science makes you lose your mind. You’ve been warned."

"Oh, I think I can handle it," she replied, winking at me, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest.

As the speaker began, I couldn't help but chuckle when I noticed her furiously scribbling notes as if her life depended on it.

Once the seminar ended, we returned to the lab. Y/N still had work to catch up on after being away for an hour. I’d finished my tasks long ago, but I lingered, a shadow in the corner, unwilling to leave her alone in this sterile, fluorescent-lit space.

She closed her notebook with a satisfying smack and turned to me, her eyes bright. "This is so exciting! I can’t wait to see if it works this time."

"Yeah, you’ll get over it," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

"Have you always been such a grump? Or was there a time when you actually liked what you do?"

Her question hit me like a punch to the gut, catching me off guard. I could feel her gaze piercing through my defenses.

"I like what I do."

"Do you love it?"

Her question hung in the air like a dark cloud, and I found myself lost in a maze of memories, the joy of discovery overshadowed by the weight of expectations. Had there ever been a time when I shared her enthusiasm?

"I don’t really remember," I mumbled, avoiding the truth. "It’s getting late, Y/N. How are you getting home?"

"I’m walking."

"I’m walking too. Let’s go."

Did I used to love what I did? The memory felt elusive, slipping through my fingers like water.

As we walked, Y/N asked, "Why did you decide to go to grad school?"

"Why does anyone?" I shot back, a cryptic smirk teasing my lips.

"To make a difference? To revolutionize the field?"

"Very cute, Y/N."

"It’s not cute. It’s true."

"Is that why you want to go to grad school?"

"Yes. I’ve always wanted to help people. Since medical school is out of the question for me—"

"You’ll get over the smell of blood, Y/N."

"It’s not just that. I get too attached. I’d rather contribute silently from the lab." She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Plus, where would medicine be without science? They’d still be pouring hot oil into wounds!"

I chuckled, a genuine laugh bubbling up like warmth breaking through winter’s chill. "You’re funny." The words slipped out before I could think better of it, and before I could process my thoughts, my fingers brushed against her arm, lingering over the fabric of her hoodie.

She halted, her cheeks tinged pink, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I froze, my hand dropping to my side, panic racing through me. That had to be inappropriate.

"I’ve been called worse," she joked, her smile radiating a warmth that sent shivers down my spine.

We walked on in silence until we reached her building.

"Do you live on campus too?" she asked, fishing for her keys from her bag.

"No. I live in Portage Bay."

"Oh… we passed that already."

"I know."

Suspicion flared in her gaze as she pieced things together, and I felt the weight of my own guilt creeping up on me. She would realize I was that gross old grad student trying to woo the sweet, naive undergrad—the very person I had mocked in others. The thought made my stomach churn.

"I know what you’re doing," she accused, crossing her arms defensively.

Here it comes…

"You feel guilty because I got hurt," she said, her voice steady. "You feel responsible. But you don’t have to do this."

Is that really what she thought?

"You think I’m walking you home out of guilt?" My voice was harsher than I intended, anger bubbling up inside me.

"I know you are."

"You don’t know anything," I spat, turning away, desperate to escape the rising tide of emotions threatening to drown me.

"Yoongi, wait!" she called after me, dread washing over me.

Keep walking… don’t look back.

I couldn’t believe she thought I was being nice out of guilt. I had done nothing but act like a jerk for too long, and now I was about to lose the only flicker of light stupid, lonely world.

God, she had no clue.

Wednesday morning felt heavy with an unsettling quiet when Y/N arrived at the lab a little earlier than usual. I was already there, lurking like a shadow in the corner, unable to shake off the ghosts of a sleepless night. I busied myself with the equipment, clinging to the hope that keeping my distance would somehow quell the anger simmering beneath my skin.

It was confusing, really. I was furious with her—not just because of the injury that haunted my thoughts like a ghost, but because she had twisted my kindness into something it wasn’t. Sure, I felt like a hollow shell, the guilt gnawing at my insides like a rat in a rotting wall, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy walking her home. Yesterday’s seminar had been a strange kind of fun—the first I’d experienced in what felt like ages.

As I returned to the lab, pretending to check something in my desk drawer, I caught her gaze from across the bench. The way her eyes followed me stirred something deep inside, a mix of frustration and longing I couldn’t quite place. I tried to slip away, but as I turned to leave, her fingers brushed against my elbow.

“Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said, her voice soft and sincere, those puppy-dog eyes piercing through my defenses. Warmth rushed through me, a strange blend of emotions swirling inside. “It was really nice of you to walk with me. Thank you.”

With a timid smile, she released my arm, leaving me reeling, torn between the urge to pull her back and the need to retreat. Just then, I caught sight of Jimin, his piercing blue eyes wide with suspicion from the shadows of the lab. What the hell?

“You’re welcome,” I muttered dryly to Y/N, my voice almost a growl, before storming away, seeking refuge from the chaos in my head.

In the media preparation room, I paced like a caged animal, cracking my knuckles repeatedly to chase away the madness. This was absurd. I was losing it over a girl—an undergrad—who seemed blissfully unaware of the tempest she stirred within me. Deep breaths. Focus. But I knew this strange obsession wasn’t going anywhere.

When I returned to the lab, I found Jungkook leaning casually against my bench, chatting with Y/N. She wore that timid smile again, twisting something inside me. My hands curled into fists, rage and jealousy flaring up like a wildfire.

“I’ll see you Friday,” Jungkook said, flashing a grin as he sauntered past me. Did he just ask her out? The urge to grab him by the ponytail and shove him to the floor was overwhelming. “What did he want?” I spat, unable to contain the fury boiling within.

“Nothing,” she replied innocently, her attention flitting back to her notebook as if she hadn’t just tossed gasoline on my fire.

“Y/N,” I hissed, slicing through the air with my words, demanding her attention. “What did he want?”

“Nothing important,” she clarified, but her eyes locked onto mine, searching. My resolve wavered. What the hell was wrong with me? The desire to pummel Jungkook quickly transformed into an intense longing to press my lips against that bottom lip she kept biting. The confusion swirled around us, thick and suffocating, and I felt trapped.

Just then, Jimin reentered the lab, breaking the spell that had ensnared us. I stepped back, the tension snapping like a brittle twig, and Y/N sighed, disappointment heavy in the air.

“Are you done?” I asked, my voice cold, each word laced with the weight of my internal turmoil. “I need to use the bench.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes before she masked it, and guilt settled in my stomach like a stone. I tried to focus on my work, but her presence lingered, a distraction gnawing at my concentration until she finally left for the day. This is ridiculous! Why did she affect me so much? I couldn’t keep living like this.

Thursday afternoon arrived, and I maneuvered around Y/N like a ghost. I didn’t want to be a jerk, but the thought of her and Jungkook had me seething. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire, irritation coiling tighter with every passing second. I tried to stick to succinct answers and instructions, but the tension thickened around us like fog.

As we received her sequencing results, I could no longer pretend she didn’t exist. She pulled a chair next to me at my desk, her presence suffocatingly close. My fingers twitched on the mouse, nerves sparking as I avoided glancing her way. She tapped her pen rhythmically; each tap a countdown to my sanity.

“Please, stop that,” I groaned, frustration spilling over.

She halted instantly, a sigh escaping her lips, and my heart sank. I hated feeling this way—trapped between annoyance and an attraction that sent shivers down my spine. How was that even possible?

Finally, the software loaded, and I opened her file. Y/N gasped, and I held my breath as she leaned closer, the tension between us palpable.

“Sample 1. Ran well. Sample 2. Ran well… ran well, ran well, ran well…” All fifty samples had run flawlessly. Impressive. I couldn’t recall a time when every single sequencing reaction had succeeded; there was always a failure or two. Y/N was undeniably skilled.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck. Her warmth enveloped me, her hair brushing against my face, and the world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating. My body responded in ways I couldn’t understand.

I shot up from my chair, breaking the spell. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks a deep crimson, laughter spilling from her lips. “I’m just so happy! They all worked!”

My heart raced, shock coursing through me as I struggled to regain composure. The pull I felt toward her was almost unbearable, thrumming like an electric wire, demanding release.

“Good job,” I managed, forcing my voice to remain steady. But as she smiled at me, her joy tearing through my carefully constructed barriers, I knew I was in deep trouble. I wanted to hold her again, to kiss her until the world faded away. God, I needed help.

As I turned to her, a smile crept onto my lips despite myself. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and before I could process it, she squeaked, throwing her arms around my neck, her warmth enveloping me, her hair brushing against my face. The world narrowed to just her, the scent of her shampoo intoxicating, my body responding in ways I couldn’t understand. 

God, I needed help.

You know those days when nothing seems to go right? When you drag yourself out of bed, and it feels like the universe is playing tricks on you, pushing you back with every step forward? Yeah, today is one of those days. A downright miserable Friday, and I can’t help but feel that the promise of the weekend is just a hollow consolation.

This morning was a disaster. I tossed and turned all night, haunted by thoughts of Y/N. Her smile flickered in my mind like a candle caught in the wind—warm and inviting one moment, then snuffed out the next. The irony is, while I’m relieved I won’t have to face her today, the gnawing uncertainty of whether she’s out with Jungkook weighs heavily in my stomach. Anger simmers beneath my skin, bubbling over in waves I can’t seem to control.

As I step into the lunchroom, the emptiness greets me, broken only by the taunting hum of the microwave. I slam my fist against its cold metal side, frustrated when it refuses to cooperate. It beeps at me, a cruel mockery in the sterile silence. I slam the door shut again, and my temper flares.

“What did the microwave do to you?” A familiar voice cuts through my frustration. It’s Hoseok, ever the jester, his amusement practically radiating off him.

“It’s broken,” I mutter, fingers still mashing buttons like a madman.

“Step away from the microwave,” he orders, a playful yet firm tone in his voice. In two quick moves, he’s heating up my food. “What’s up your ass?”

“Nothing,” I groan, flopping down in a chair with a defeated sigh. “Just one of those days.”

“Why?” 

“It’s just one of those days…” I can’t muster the energy to say more.

“Like, ‘Everything’s messed up and everyone sucks’?” He turns his baseball cap backward, bobbing his head as if ready to launch into a nu-metal anthem.

“Great, Hoseok. Quote Limp Bizkit. That’s really going to help.” I cut him off before he can get into full swing.

“Dude, you’re in a mood. What happened?” His eyes reflect genuine concern as he rummages through the fridge.

“Nothing,” I insist, rising to retrieve my Tupperware.

“Bullshit. I’ve known you for four years. This isn’t just a failed PCR kind of mood.” He crosses his arms, blocking my path.

Part of me wants to spill my guts, but the words feel lodged in my throat. Still, they tumble out. “If I tell you, can you at least try to be mature about it?”

“Mature is my middle name,” he grins, but I can’t help but scowl.

“Fine. It’s Y/N.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” 

I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of his excitement pressing down on me. “What happened?” he whispers, leaning in, all ears.

“She’s... I don’t know.”

“Come on, man. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, she’s out with Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?” Hoseok’s voice rises as if he’s just spotted a raccoon in the hall.

“Jesus, Hoseok!” I hiss. “Keep it down!”

“Sorry.” His whisper is tinged with amusement. “Jungkook fucking Jeon?”

“Yes.” I take a deep breath, frustration bubbling over. “And she’s my undergrad.”

“Puh-lease. Who cares?” 

“I’m at least five years older than her,” I retort.

“The younger, the better.” He waggles his eyebrows, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Disgusting.”

“Stop brooding, dude. Jeon’s got nothing on you. Go get your girl. She’s fine, and she was always checking you out at the gym—like I told you a thousand times.”

Y/N checking me out? No way. Hoseok’s just being delusional. I shake my head, dismissing his words. This fixation has to end. She’s just my undergrad. That’s all she’ll ever be—at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Happy Hour. The name is ironic, a pathetic excuse for mingling—if you can even call it that. It never lasts an hour, and “happy” is a stretch, but hey, there’s free beer, so here I am. Alone in the corner, I down red cups like they might wash away the grime of the day. By the time Hoseok and Serena finally stroll in, I’ve polished off four.

“You’re here before us. That’s weird,” Serena quips as they approach.

“Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious.” 

“What’s his problem?” Serena glares at Hoseok, arms crossed.

“He’s in a mood,” Hoseok replies, handing me another red cup that I chug.

“Why?” Her tone is whiny, as if I owe her an explanation.

“Lady problems,” Hoseok shoots back before I can stop him.

“Yoongi has lady problems?” Serena sounds incredulous, as if she’s just discovered a new planet.

“I’m standing right here!” My voice is louder than I intended, laced with irritation.

“So you like a girl, Yoongi. Not the end of the world. I mean, this self-imposed celibacy was bound to end someday. I just wish I knew who she is.” She twists the conversation back to herself, as always.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s his undergrad,” Hoseok interjects, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

“You old perv!” Serena playfully smacks my chest, and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

“I’m going to get fired,” I murmur, tipping my cup back for the last drops of liquid courage.

“No, you won’t, drama queen.” She dismisses me with a wave, annoyance radiating off her.

“It happens all the time! PIs hit on post-docs, post-docs on grad students, grads on undergrads. What world do you live in?”

“It’s like a jungle,” Hoseok chuckles.

“Shut up, Hoseok,” Serena snaps. “Good news is, now that there’s this girl, you can stop with the emo bitterness. It’s getting old.”

“Fuck you, Serena.”

“Hey, hey now,” Hoseok says, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go get another round.”

When we return, my anger toward Serena simmers just beneath the surface, but I’m too tipsy to think straight. “For your information, Serena, this girl has a name. Her name is Becca. No, wait... it’s Y/N! Dammit!” My palm meets my forehead in a facepalm of pure embarrassment.

“Wow. She must be something special, Yoongi. You don’t even know her name.”

“Baby, stop. He’s drunk, and he’s having a shitty day.”

“Why?” 

“Y/N is out with Jungkook,” Hoseok explains.

“Jeon?” Serena’s expression shifts to one of shock, and they dive into speculation, completely oblivious to my presence.

I shut them out, groaning into my cup as I gulp it down. It’s true. I know it. Jungkook is with Y/N tonight, probably taking her to dinner and drinks, sharing laughs while I’m stuck here. My mind spirals into a dark abyss—what if he kisses her? What if she invites him in? God, I’m sick just thinking about it.

Of all the undergrads in this department, Jungkook Jeon had to go after mine. I hope Y/N gets drunk and spills her drink all over him.

Worst. Hangover. Ever.

Well, maybe not the worst, but it’s definitely up there. My head pounds like a jackhammer, and my stomach feels like a chaotic whirlpool of regret as I stumble into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, a fleeting relief, but all I can think about is how tempting sleep sounds right now. But I have things to do in the lab. Don’t I always?

The apartment is a total disaster zone—a messy tribute to last night’s antics. Red cups are scattered across the coffee table like the remnants of a forgotten battle, and chip crumbs litter the floor like confetti from a party that had long overstayed its welcome. Hoseok and Serena wouldn’t leave me alone last night, terrified I’d do something reckless, so we ended up bringing Happy Hour back to my place. I was just the third wheel, watching them get lost in their own world of laughter and flirting. By the time I woke up on the couch, blanketed by a pile of crumpled chips, they were long gone.

I shuffle into the library, desperate for my usual caffeine fix on the way to the lab, but my stomach is rebelling. Still, I know I’ll need that coffee to survive the day.

Inside, the library feels like a claustrophobic hive of undergrads buzzing around like over-caffeinated bees. It’s overwhelming.

What a nightmare!

I hurry to the coffee line, pouring sugar into my mug like it’s a lifeline. Just as I catch my breath, I spot her—Y/N—sitting at a table surrounded by a fortress of books. Her hair falls like a curtain, hiding her face from view. I can’t help myself; I’m drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

“Hello, Y/N,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her.

She looks up, surprise flickering across her features, and for a moment, my heart races. 

“Oh, so I’m back to being Y/N?” There’s no hint of humor in her voice, only seriousness, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

What’s going on? Where’s the smile that usually lights up her face?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light as I settle in.

“What are you doing here?” she replies, her gaze cool and collected.

“Y/N, please go easy on me today. I’m not feeling great,” I admit, running a hand down my face, feeling every ache from the night before.

“Oh... what’s wrong?” Her stoic facade starts to crumble, replaced by genuine concern, and it warms me a bit.

“Too much beer,” I confess, and the word makes my stomach churn at the memory of my poor choices.

“I see... does that explain this?” She pulls out her phone and turns it toward me.

Grumpy: Becca, you’ve just revealed yourself to have absolutely no taste.

“Who the hell is Grumpy, and why does he call you Becca?” I blurt out, anger bubbling up before I can stop it.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re the only Grumpy I know.”

“Are you saying I sent you that text?” 

“Yes,” she says, sighing as her eyes drift away like leaves in the wind.

I pull my phone from my pocket, my heart sinking as I check my sent texts.

Well, great…

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes, wishing I could take back last night’s mistakes.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean either. No taste in what? Music? Food? Men?” 

“Men?” I let out a dry laugh. “Jungkook is not a man. He’s a tool.”

“So this is about Jungkook?” she says, gesturing to her phone.

“Yes.” My brain feels sluggish, like I’m moving through molasses.

“Why do you care?” 

“I’m uncomfortable with you dating my classmate,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to appear nonchalant.

“He’s not your classmate, and we’re not dating.”

“We both started our PhDs at the same time in the same program. That makes him my classmate… Wait… you’re not dating?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. We went out for coffee, talked, he asked me out again, and I kindly declined. I’m focused on my studies right now, Yoongi, and I really don’t have room for anything more.”

“Oh…” Relief floods through me, even as my hangover rages on. I might even be smiling.

“Yes, oh indeed. Which brings me back to why you’re sitting here distracting me from my study session.”

“What are you studying?” I ask softly, a smile creeping onto my face, hoping to steer the conversation away from Jungkook.

“I have an organic chemistry exam on Monday.”

“Oh, I see…” I hesitate, but the temptation of spending time with her outweighs my growing pile of work in the lab. “Well, it might just be your lucky day, Y/L/N, because I happen to be an expert in all things organic chemistry.”

“You are?” Her lips curl into a small grin, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. She’s back.

“I am…” I smile at her. “So, do you want some help?”

“I could use some help.”

Help… yeah… that’s what I’m here for… help.

For the next two hours, I guide Y/N through her organic reaction problem sets, all while ignoring my cooling coffee. She’s a quick study, soaking up the information, and I’m confident she’ll ace her test on Monday.

I keep my hands clasped between my knees—except when I need to draw reactions for her—wanting to hide how my fingers twitch every time she brushes her hair behind her ear.

Y/N is focused on her notebook, but the third time I yawn, she looks up at me.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Tell me about it… On average, I get about four hours a night.”

“Four hours? If I don’t get at least six, I get grumpy.”

“Grumpier than this?” she says, waving a hand at me, a smile teasing at her lips.

“This,” I gesture to my chest, “this is the five-hours-of-sleep me.” I stretch, feeling my muscles pull, and I notice her eyes trace down my torso before I quickly pull my shirt down.

Was Y/N checking me out?

“Anyway…” I scramble for a distraction. “It’s healthy to sleep eight hours. I’m all about being healthy.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re an old man.”

“Hey… I’m only twenty-five!”

She laughs, and before I can ask how old she is, her gaze shifts behind me, and I can sense her tension.

“Shit…” she whispers.

“What?”

“Remember that guy I told you about, Jonah Rodgers, the stalker?” Her voice drops to a near whisper, laced with panic.

I wrack my brain, trying to recall. Y/N had a stalker? She looks at me, and it’s clear she knows I’m lost.

“Just play along, please,” she whispers, scooting her chair closer to me. Her hand brushes my knee, and I’m startled by the tentative touch.

A vague memory flickers in my mind—her acting strange around me one day, but it’s obscured by the haze of regret and longing.

Y/N’s gaze is intense, making it hard to focus on anything else. She smiles shyly, then looks down before peeking at me through her thick lashes.

God, what is she doing to me?

I know she’s faking it, pretending for someone else—but I can’t help how my body reacts, how hyper-aware I am of her presence. My hand moves to her cheek, my thumb tracing her soft skin. She blushes, biting her lip, and it sends a jolt through me, a deep ache to pull her closer—bring her lips to mine.

Her hand slides from my knee, brushing my thigh, and I can feel a warmth stirring inside me.

This isn’t real… it can’t be.

She’s still staring at me, and I’m lost in her gaze, wondering what she’s thinking, if she feels it too.

But then, all too soon, her attention darts behind me again.

“He’s gone,” she breathes, relief washing over her. Her hand rubs my thigh one last time before she withdraws. “Thank you.”

I know I should let go, but I can’t. My hand remains on her face, my thumb tracing her cheek while my fingers tangle in the nape of her neck. Her expression shifts, confusion knitting her brow. She reaches for my hand, her fingers enveloping my wrist—her thumb brushing the top of my hand, once, twice—and then she smiles.

But she’s not looking at me seductively anymore. She’s looking at me like she doesn’t understand why I haven’t let go. And honestly? Neither do I.

I drop my hand from her face and stand abruptly.

“I better get to the lab,” I say, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “Good luck on your test.” Her eyes linger on me, confusion clouding her expression as I turn to leave.

I guess the show is over…

I spent the rest of the weekend in the lab, mostly because I had nothing better to do. It felt easier to throw myself into my work than to face the nagging thoughts of Y/N swirling around in my head. Pining after her felt wrong—she was just a kid, my intern, and whatever was brewing inside me needed to stop. I had to keep my distance.

When Y/N walked in on Tuesday, she looked a bit worn out. I wanted to ask her about the test, but I bit my tongue, forcing myself to act indifferent.

As the day wound down, she asked for my help, and I followed her into the dark room. She needed to cut different bands from an agarose gel to purify the DNA. Even though she knew how to use the UV light box, I guided her through the excising process.

Once inside the dimly lit room, Y/N flipped on the UV box and switched off the lights. I stood behind her, watching as her shaky hand hovered nervously over the gel, clutching the blade. 

"I think it’s safe to say that not going to medical school was the right choice for you," I teased, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension. "With those shaky hands, I wouldn't want you holding a scalpel near me."

"I had too much coffee today," she shot back, her tone sharp but playful.

"Right," I snorted, a grin breaking free.

"Shut up. You're making me nervous." I could almost hear her smile through her words.

"Here," I said, inching closer. I covered her hand with mine, steadying her fingers over the blade. "Relax," I suggested, hoping it would ease both our nerves.

Her proximity felt electric, as if the air around us vibrated with tension. The scent of her hair—fresh and unplaceable—danced under my nose, making my heart race. Y/N's hand trembled beneath mine as she turned to glance up at me. In the faint blue glow of the UV light, her features looked even more striking. 

"This is making it worse," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I felt her warm breath against my neck, and everything inside me screamed that we were too close. I should step back. I needed to step back. But God, I wanted to kiss her. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Her bewildered expression shifted as her eyes drifted from my gaze to my lips. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her tongue trace the edge of her bottom lip before she began to nibble on it nervously.

Then, without thinking, I closed the distance and pressed my lips against hers.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, intoxicated by her sweet scent as my mouth enveloped her bottom lip. Y/N whimpered softly against me, turning her body to face mine. My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

What was I doing?

I felt lost, unsure of how to proceed or how to stop. Reluctantly, I released her neck and gripped the bench for support, struggling against the rising tide of desire. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and pull her onto the counter, to lose myself in her warmth.

No, stop! This is wrong!

I broke the kiss, panting heavily. "Y/N…" I gasped. "Shit, I'm so sorry." I stepped back, needing space. She was breathing hard too. "I-I didn’t mean to do that. I shouldn’t have… Shit." My hands raked through my hair, searching for words that eluded me.

Then, with a single determined step, Y/N closed the distance. She grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me down to her level. Her lips collided with mine once more, and I felt her inhale sharply.

I was too tall, or she was too short; either way, I hunched over her as her legs wrapped around my hips, lifting her onto the countertop beside the UV box.

Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging in a way that made me groan into her mouth, while my own hands hovered uncertainly over her body, torn between desire and restraint.

Loud, insistent knocking on the door shattered the moment.

Y/N gasped, and her legs slipped from my sides. 

"I need to look at a gel, Yoongi. What’s taking so long?" Jimin's voice rang out.

Jimin… shit…

I groaned against Y/N's shoulder, gripping her thighs to steady myself. Her fingers remained tangled in my hair, and I felt dangerously close to losing it.

"We're cutting a gel, Jimin," I called out, taking a reluctant step away from Y/N. "Give me a fucking break," I muttered under my breath.

I heard Jimin huff through the door, and Y/N’s voice came low and tense. "What do we do?"

I didn't know about her, but I needed to get out of there. I was uncomfortable and desperately needed to regain control. I moved to the UV box, which was still glowing. Y/N jumped down from the bench as I grabbed the blade, cutting around the bands on the gel. I found it ironic that my hands were now shaking, yet I managed to do a decent job.

Once finished, I shut off the UV light and flicked the room lights back on. Y/N jumped a little, and though I was sure she was staring at me, I couldn’t meet her gaze—I wouldn’t.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. "Take each piece of gel and put it in a single epi tube," I instructed, forcing myself to focus on anything but her. "You can follow the rest of the protocol at the bench."

"Yoongi," she whispered, urgency lacing her voice.

"I’ll be back in a bit," I said, my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t risk a glance at her, fearing that a single look would draw me back in. I opened the door and stormed out, nearly colliding with Jimin, who stood there with his arms crossed.

What the hell just happened?

A few moments later, I was outside the building. Rain hammered down, but I didn’t care. I wished I smoked, drank, or had any vice to help me calm down. I tried deep breaths to steady myself, but the rain only added to the chaos swirling inside me. I made it to the tree line behind the parking lot, leaning against a trunk with one hand while the other pressed against my chest, where my heart threatened to pound its way out. I was panting, sweating, and completely unraveling.

What the hell had I been thinking?

Well, clearly, I hadn’t been thinking at all.

God, I could still taste her on my lips.

I swallowed hard.

Y/N had the sweetest lips I’d ever kissed.

I was doomed.

This could ruin everything. I couldn’t let myself be distracted by Y/N like this. I had lost all control, and I didn’t know what would have happened if Jimin hadn’t knocked. Or worse, what if Y/N had opened the door without knocking? Thank God the light was off, and the “IN USE” sign was outside.

No one could know about this, especially not Jimin—he was Jin’s puppy! If Jin ever found out…

God, this was all so messed up!

I had to make it clear to Y/N—this had to stay between us. We had to pretend it never happened.

It would never happen again.

I could never have my lips on hers again—just the thought of it made my chest ache.

I had known kissing her would be good. She had the most beautiful lips I’d ever seen. They didn’t disappoint. Her kiss exceeded any expectation I had dared to dream. How could I endure not kissing her again, knowing how sweet she tasted?

If I thought it was torture to be around her before, now it was going to be hell.

And she had kissed me back. She had. It wasn’t just me. She wanted this too. Didn’t she know it was wrong? I needed to talk to her, to explain that this couldn’t happen again. We had to keep things professional, to work together without awkwardness. We had to manage that. I needed to manage that.

I wouldn’t look at her lips, or her smile, if that’s what it took. Maybe I could lie and say we needed to wear mouth masks for the rest of the project…

With a groan, I stepped away from the tree. I fisted my hair, realizing I was getting drenched, and walked back into the building. I shook my head to rid myself of some of the water, but I was still soaked when I climbed the stairs.

When I entered the lab, Y/N pretended not to see me, but I knew better. Her posture shifted, her back straightened, and the foot she had been tapping on the floor stilled.

I noticed Jimin was in the lab, standing at his bench across from Y/N, staring at her. It became clear to me that Y/N was putting on a show for him.

I sighed, feeling a little relief wash over me.

Y/N wouldn’t tell anyone—at least that much was clear.

But I still needed to talk to her. What happened was wrong and completely inappropriate. I couldn’t let her get the wrong idea.

I buried myself in my computer for a while, pretending to work by aimlessly scrolling and clicking, but my attention was entirely on Y/N. She seemed to move through the purification protocol without a hitch. What was going through her head?

Y/N strolled into the lab on Thursday, her smile cutting through the sterile, fluorescent gloom like a ray of sunlight. I gave her a nod—polite, detached—but that didn’t stop my heart from racing at the flicker of warmth in her gaze. As I turned back to my work, she let out a sigh that lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glancing at Jimin's empty bench, and the reminder of his absence hung like a storm cloud between us. 

"Okay," she began, hands planted defiantly on her hips. "Should we talk about this?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze, focusing on those deep, captivating eyes while battling the temptation to let my gaze wander to her lips, which seemed to whisper promises that drove me mad with longing. 

"There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N."

"Well, are you going to go back to being mean to me?" 

"I was never mean to you."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and heat crept into my cheeks as I remembered all the stunts I’d pulled—the pranks that had hurt her, the lab coat I’d ruined...

"I won't be mean to you again," I muttered, letting out a heavy sigh and looking at the floor.

"Yoongi..." Her voice was soft, almost melodic, and it tugged at my heart. 

When I met her gaze again, it was a mistake—her lip caught between her teeth was a distraction I didn’t need. My hands clenched into fists, seeking refuge in my pockets as her eyes searched mine, wary but hopeful, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It won't be awkward, all right? I promise."

That smile of hers struck me like a bolt of lightning, forcing a groan deep within my chest. I could see the words dancing on her lips, ready to spill out, but they vanished like smoke when Jimin walked back into the lab. Taking advantage of the reprieve, I buried myself in my work, fighting to act normal.

But normalcy felt like a distant memory whenever Y/N was near. She moved through the lab with quiet grace, while I stood like a rock in a river of uncertainty, drowning in my thoughts.

As the day wore on and shadows lengthened, I noticed her gathering her things. Instinct kicked in—I pretended to be engrossed in my computer, watching her shuffle and fidget until she finally took a step toward me.

"Hey, Yoongi?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" I turned to face her, masking the turmoil inside.

"Um, I was wondering... I know I’m just an undergrad here, and there’s really no room for me to... I-I mean, I know it’s really not my place to ask, but..." Her words faltered, and the crimson blush creeping up her cheeks sent my heart racing.

"Y/N, would you get on with it? I don’t have all day." My frustration boiled over, the energy it took to be normal around her fraying my patience.

Her frown was instant, a storm brewing in those beautiful eyes. 

Shit, that was uncalled for...

"Never mind…" she sighed, disappointment echoing in the air.

"Wait." I took a breath, willing myself to soften. "I’m sorry. Please, Y/N, tell me."

She sighed again, a deep, resigned breath. "I know there’s that recruitment party this Saturday. It’s for prospective students to meet the current students in the department. And I know, I’m just the undergrad, but I think it would be great if I could meet them. You know? Hopefully, in a year, I’ll be going through recruitment myself." Her fingers twisted anxiously in front of her, a sight that both amused and strained my patience.

"Is there a question you wanted to ask?" I barked, the irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Yes…" she snapped back, indignation rising. "My question is: do you mind if I’m there?" She crossed her arms, defiance written all over her.

Why would I care if she came? I hadn’t even planned on attending that stupid party. But suddenly, the thought twisted in my gut, a knot tightening as a realization hit me.

I shot up from my chair, startling her. "Who told you about the party?"

Her eyes dropped, a sigh escaping her lips, and just like that, the truth hit me like a freight train. I fucking knew it.

"You’re going with Jungkook, aren’t you?" I took a step closer, looming over her.

"No, I’m not going with Jungkook." Her voice was steady, but her gaze flickered to meet mine. "But I’m going."

"Well, I guess I’ll see you there, then."

"Okay," she said with a nonchalant shrug, but the smile that graced her lips made my stomach twist. She turned to leave, and I felt something unravel within me—my hands instinctively reached out, fingers curling into frustrated fists. I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle her or pull her into a desperate embrace. All I knew was that I was left staring helplessly as she walked away.

I didn’t need her to say it; I knew Jungkook was behind this. She might not be going with him, but the thought of him lurking at that party made my blood boil. For the first time in a long while, I felt the gnawing sensation of jealousy eat away at my insides.

Fucking Jungkook Jeon.

I couldn’t believe I was even considering this.

Why did it matter if Y/N went to the recruitment party? It shouldn’t. Yet here I was, battling an angry tide rising in my chest, all because of that idiot Jungkook. If she were going with someone more acceptable—someone who didn’t make my skin crawl—I’d be okay with it. I should be okay with it. The rational part of my brain knew that, but the irritation overshadowed everything else.

What did she even see in Jungkook? The guy barely scraped by on his Qual after taking it twice and hadn’t published a single paper. He was working with fruit flies for crying out loud! And his personality? A brick wall. I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t stand him.

I had to go to this party.

At lunch, against my better judgment, I decided to bring it up with Hoseok. 

"Hey, where’s the recruitment party this year?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I stabbed my fork into the mac and cheese.

"You’re going to the recruitment party?" Hoseok dropped his fork, suspicion etched across his face like a roadmap to his thoughts.

"Yes," I groaned, already regretting bringing it up. Of course, he’d make a fuss.

"To our department’s recruitment party?" He pressed a finger to his chest as if I’d committed a heinous crime.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I shrugged, pushing the macaroni around in my bowl.

"Let me think… maybe because I’ve organized every single one since I got here, and you’ve never attended."

"Will you just answer my question?" I snapped, frustration boiling over.

"It’s at the South Campus Center, bro." Even though he finally answered, his gaze lingered, scrutinizing me like I was a specimen under his microscope.

"Great, thanks." I tried to keep my tone light, rolling my eyes at his obvious scrutiny.

"I can’t believe you’re going." A knowing smile danced at the corners of his lips, and I loathed it.

I pretended not to care, shrugging off the comment as he took a seat next to me. 

"If only I had known all it would take was an undergrad to get through you."

"This has nothing to do with Y/N," I spat, defensiveness creeping in, my irritation sharpening with each word. Her name was Y/N, not ‘the undergrad.’

"Right, so it’s just a coincidence… this is just the year you happen to decide to attend this thing."

"Yes."

"Is she going?" His eyebrow arched, mischief glinting in his eyes.

I groaned and turned away, pretending to be absorbed in my food.

"Dude, I can see it. How she’s affected you. It’s kind of obvious. You can talk to me, you know? It might help."

The breath I took was deep and shaky, every nerve ending igniting with frustration. But before I could stop myself, the words came pouring out. "She drives me crazy, Hoseok. I can’t stand it. I lose all control when I’m around her. I kissed her… I kissed her, and she said she doesn’t want to jeopardize her work in the lab. And it makes sense for her to think that. But the worst part is now I can’t stop seeing her everywhere. She’s in the lab, at the gym, at the freaking library where I get my coffee—she’s everywhere! I need to go back to not seeing her, because I can’t handle this." I stared down at my lunch, the food suddenly unappetizing, a lifeless pile of carbs.

"So you don’t want to see her?" Hoseok asked, surprisingly calm, like he was dissecting a specimen on his lab bench.

"Exactly."

"You don’t want to kiss her again?" He pushed, an amused grin creeping across his face.

"I don’t know what I want!" I barked, irritation flaring.

"Sounds to me like you want to go to the party, see her, and kiss her again. The question is, how are you going to deal with Jungkook?"

My shoulders tightened at the mention of his name, a cold shiver running down my spine. "I don’t care about him."

"I don’t know, man. It’s weird. The vibes are strange. You’re talking about her with a lot of… emotion."

"Emotion?" I snapped, but deep down, I felt the truth behind his words. I was at the mercy of my own feelings, a trembling wreck in the face of Y/N’s smile. I hated it. I wanted to turn it off. I couldn’t afford to feel anything.

"Fine," I muttered, sinking back into my chair, wishing to be swallowed by it.

"You’re going to have to confront those feelings eventually, Yoongi."

I grunted in response, refusing to admit he was right. I didn’t want to think about Y/N, and I definitely didn’t want to deal with Jungkook. All I wanted was to escape this mess, but deep down, I knew I was already trapped.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[kiddbegins]

Begin Again • M. Casey

Requested: no Word count: 3.2k warnings: none?

A/n: this was originally something I wrote for an oc x evan Buckley that I never posted so thats why there's like actual names and back story stuff ..

Masterlist

You stood in your bedroom, digging around through your clothes for the right thing to wear. Was this a casual thing? Yes. Did you want to dress super casual? No. Because this was the first time in months that you were allowing yourself to have an ounce of happiness. Allowing yourself to go out there and let someone see the rawest form a girl could have.

The outfit you chose went perfectly with a pair of heels you had bought last year but never worn. Jeremy never let you. Not to a party, not even to a business meeting he had had. So really it was a mystery if they fit. Guess now was a good time to try them on… right?

Hesitantly, you slipped the shoes on, double checking yourself in the full length mirror behind your door. It was good. It was nice, didn’t scream business meeting or ‘hey let's ditch and have sex’, and considering you had work in only a couple hours and this was just coffee and pastries at a cafe, it felt perfect.

Your parents were out, their ritual was to have breakfast out at least twice a week. Today was one of the days so you were alone in your thoughts as you left the house. You plugged your phone into your car to play some music for the drive. Only fifteen minutes.

And those fifteen minutes were full of anxiety. Would Matt like your outfit? Like you on the side of things where you weren’t a firefighter? Your heart was racing but you shook your head. If it didn’t work out like that, you’d be friends. Regardless of status, you’d already interacted enough to stay friends if everything plummeted.

You had to keep reminding yourself that as you parked, all the spaces for the block were taken so you were a bit away when you finally got out. The cafe was around the corner and you fiddled with the hem of your shirt before starting the walk there. 

With every step you went over what you expected to happen. You thought you were a boring, unfunny mess so if anything Matt would probably get out of there earlier than expected, causing you to carry your half of the check and head to work licking your wounds. 

The bell above the door jingled, alerting anyone around of your presence and you spotted your date at a table in the middle of the room. He saw you almost instantly, how could he not? Everytime the bell rang from the front he turned in his seat to see if you were now coming his way. The first 7 times it wasn’t, but it was now.

Instantly, he stood, smiling widely while waving you over. You walked over to him, letting out a light breath before smiling back at him. It was impossible not to. “Hey,” He went in for a hug, wrapping his arms lightly around you before moving to pull the chair out for you. Something you were not used to one bit.

“Hi,” You smiled softly, sitting in the seat and watching as he moved to sit back down. He’d already had a cup of coffee on the table but that was it, it seems he was waiting for you to even have something to nibble on. “How’s your morning been?” You added, a lady coming over to get an order in for the two.

Once she left, Matt shrugged. “Can’t complain. Not gonna lie I was worried you weren’t going to show.” He offered right off the bat, causing Your eyebrows to raise. And here you were thinking that he wasn’t going to be all that excited to see her.

You hid a smile before shaking your head, “I’m not exactly a flaker.” 

“Thank god, imagine how embarrassing that’d be for me.” He joked, taking a sip of his extremely light coffee. 

You noticed the color of it and chuckled lightly. “How much cream is in that cup?”

“Probably about 50% of it.” He laughed and shook his head, “Nah, maybe like 4 of those little cups they give you. She gave me a weird look when I was putting them in too.” He sat back as your coffee was brought out along with two muffins. One chocolate chip, one blueberry. The chocolate one was Matt’s.

You reached over and grabbed three of the equal packets, swirling it into your coffee. “Dark and sweet.” Matt spoke, “Light and bitter, two sides of a coin.” He stated and you nodded. If it were Jeremy he would have rolled his eyes and told you not to waste the sugar in a drink where you can’t even taste it.

The thought of him made you shift in your seat, crossing your ankles loosely. Matt didn’t notice the slight change in demeanor so he leaned forward slightly. “Not to be the person that asks a million questions on a first date but this is a need to know, what music do you listen to? Because I listen to a mix of like rock and pop but I don’t think I can stand someone that listens to hard rap or something. No offense if you do but-”

“Matt,” You cut in with a laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t listen to hard rap. Or country really? Though there are some songs that I could scream at the top of my lungs. Mainly classic rock, my dad was a big metal head in his day and age. And of course hispanic music, being Cuban I couldn’t go any night in the summer without my neighbors blaring the music so loud that I’m positive you could hear it three blocks away.” You tended to ramble when it came to things you liked talking about.

Music was one of those topics. You could go on and on about the classic rock band Queen, or Fleetwood Mac to Celia Cruz. “Yeah? Around my neighborhood if the neighbors could hear your music then you were being an inconvenience.” Matt countered, looking at you with awe. “But I’m glad we got that covered, cause like I said, I’m peculiar about my music choices.”

“I feel like everyone is peculiar in their taste of something. Like for instance if you like mint chocolate chip ice cream I might have to just up and leave this table right now,” Now you were joking to an extent but the taste of that flavor ice cream made you want to gag.

By the look on Matt’s face, he was guilty of your charge, “Okay well this was nice,” you fake got up before shaking your head, “No I’m kidding but don’t ever ask me to have a bite.” 

He held up his right hand and nodded, “Swear.” A solid laugh came out of his mouth, catching you by surprise. Nobody ever thought you were funny. Any joke you tried to do was met with a blank face, maybe a pair of rolled eyes before the conversation continued.  

In response to Matt’s laugh a grin spread on your face, “What’s your favorite band? You said you like classic rock right?” You asked, picking off a piece of your muffin to eat. 

He didn’t answer right away, there was a clear sign of thought on his face. Thinking over his answer. “Hm, I like a lot of them, what a heavy question.” He mumbled with a light smile, looking down at his hands in a bout of concentration.

“Cause like, Queens iconic, so many good songs. But if I’m honest I really like The Animals. They have some really good songs. House of the Rising Sun is a classic.”

“No way, that’s been one of my favorites since I was little. I had a neighbor when I was a kid that only listened to like obscure bands and they were one of them. I have basically all of their albums in some form.” you rushed out excitedly, seeing the smile on Matt’s face widen as you spoke more.

The boy leaned forward happily, “You get it! God I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that actually likes their music or has it anywhere but Spotify.”

You two rambled about classic rock for the next twenty minutes, who the best Beatles member was, which Motley Crue song they listened to most. It was as if you two were catching up after not seeing each other for ages rather than a first date.

“You know,” Matt randomly spoke after a moment of silence for both of them to drink the coffees in front of them. “I never understood the people that call the sun a planet.” He finally took a bite of his muffin and it was giant. The entire top was basically off of it, that's how big of a bite it was.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as Matt ate it peacefully. “For example, I was out on this call once, and the guy was making a solar system diorama for his kid. But the sun was labeled a planet. Only noticed because he had somehow managed to get a skewer through his cheek, was going to leave that out but felt like you’d ask how I’d notice that little detail. Anyway I tried to correct him but he insisted he was right.”

He rolled his eyes. Finishing the top of his muffin while you were still picking at yours. Though you were a sucker for talking about music or things you were interested in, when it came to stuff you weren't knowledgeable on or didn’t like, you fell quiet. Shy even.

“I love space, I don’t really know much but it’s so beautiful. I’d love to visit like Mars, or maybe one that hasn’t been visited.” You offered, there wasn’t much you knew about space so you just offered up the closest thing that you did. It was beautiful.

He finished off his coffee before looking at her, “Same, but I’m staying away from venus. You know it's the hottest planet in the solar system? You’d think it’s mercury but nope, venus.” Matt spewed off a random fact, catching your attention more than he already did.

You flinched back as your face twisted in confusion, “Oh? Why?” You were interested in what he had to say, maybe it was the idea of still learning new things at 26 or maybe it was his excited expression as he thought over what he was gonna say briefly before talking. Whichever it was, he was ready to offer up any information.

“Mercury has almost no atmosphere, which is what would hold in the heat from the sun. Unlike Venus, which has a suuuuper thick and heavy atmosphere. Have you ever been in a real greenhouse?” Matt was talking with his hands the entire time, and you could pinpoint the excitement down his fingers.

“Uh…” You had to think, Rhode Island didn’t have many areas for stuff like that. “I don’t think I can say I have.” New York didn’t have any either, well, at least not that you knew of.

Matt scooched his seat closer, trying to keep his voice to where only the two of them could hear. “Well, Venus’ atmosphere makes it like a greenhouse, super hot and toxic. I’m talking ‘melt and erode you’ toxic.” He went on for a few minutes about the atmosphere and how Venus didn’t have enough water to bring co2 levels down and there was too much sulfur.

You simply sat with your legs crossed and listened. Hopefully some of the information would stick and you’d be able to tell your parents about the planets and everything else Matt was so happily rambling about.

Both of their drinks were gone by now and same went for their muffins. The last ten minutes had just been pointless conversation about whatever came up as a topic.

 “So why’d you become a firefighter?” You asked, finally landing on the reason the two had even met. And what a terrifying first day it was. Matt’s face twinged down, causing you to lean forward slightly. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it.” You offered.

It was ingrained in your mind to always make sure the other person being talked to was comfortable. “I do, I became a firefighter because I knew that helping people, and having a sort of reason to my life was what I needed.” He offered, his eyes going down to a random stain on the table. A spot of coffee that he had spilt earlier.

“From what I saw at that highrise, you’re doing good.” You offered. It was true, hearing how he (and Kelly) had handled both the girl and the injured man during that earthquake was amazing. 

He slightly nodded, seeming to get into his head for a moment or so, some sort of hidden demon in his mind grabbing a hold while he sat for a nice morning meal. “Anyway, what about you?” He was good at diverting, bringing the conversation to someone other than himself when it came to topics that he didn’t want to talk about.

It was something he had developed the skill for in his earlier 20’s. 

“Oh-, well, when I was younger my mom had really bad chest pains. So bad that she couldn’t even move to call 911. I was like, 12? Had never had something like that happen. She managed to get me to call them and they talked me through everything but being so vulnerable, so… open to the worst possible outcome, made me realize I want to help others the way that person at dispatch helped me.” The wrapped for the muffin was rolled and still being twisted between your fingers as you spoke.

It was hard then, your dad had been just out of town for some lawsuit, and your mom was so scared. Sarah was out with friends and Charlie was just a baby. Matt’s face fell soft, it seemed like a horrifying moment for anyone, especially a preteen. 

“I’m sorry. Did she end up being okay?” He tentatively asked, unsure of what else to really say, parents can be a touchy subject. Trust that he knew. When you nodded he let out a soft sigh of relief.

You placed the wrapper down gently, “Oh, yeah yeah, she made it. Everything was fine. Emphasis on was.” In an attempt to cut herself off from talking you dragged your eyes across the nearly spotless floors of the cafe.

Peaking at the strangers and how happy they seemed to be in their own social bubbles. When your eyes came back to Matt’s he had a look that came off like he wanted to know more, “I say was cause um, she has breast cancer now. Late stages. Don’t know if she’ll be able to get better but I’m okay, please, please, don’t give me that pity look.” It was one you didn’t know well in your own experience but had seen it enough around to point it out.

On Matt it was his eyebrows tugging down along with the corners of his lips. “I’m not trying to, but I just, I am sorry that sucks. A lot. We can change the subject. Like, dream vacation spot?” He threw on a happy aura that slowly but surely dragged you out by the hair.

“Hm, Venice probably. I want to ride on a gondola more than I want anything in this world. Maybe even more than be a firefighter.” You joked softly, earning another soft chuckle from the blonde across from you. 

He nodded, his smile still as bright as the north star, “That’s a solid choice. I have a lot of choices and that’s definitely up there.” Which wasn’t exactly a proper answer to the question but seeing as it was pretty much time for them to head out, you didn’t question it.

Both of your watches beeped: ten past nine. Meaning it was time to go. Matt stood first, tossing both of their trash away. Easily he pushed his chair in and offered his hand out to you for you to take, leading them out of the building.

“This is kind of good, both working the same, or similar in time shifts. Makes hanging out wayy easier.” Matt stated, squinting as you stepped back into the sun, your opposite hand going up to shield your eyes. He was right.

Dating as a first responder was hard. It isn’t easy for people that don’t get it. Same goes for doctors and such. Being with someone that has an odd schedule is difficult to adjust to. But other firefighters or paramedics could make it work.

As you walked down to your car, just chatting, you wanted to tell him a million things. How you felt more accepted in this short date than the entirety of your last relationship. Or that him just getting you was such a refreshing change from Jeremy.

And you almost did.

Almost.

“You know, around this time of year my sister and I would always, always, watch the Halloween Town movies? It was always her favorite.” He broke their silence just a few feet from your car. Bringing the brunette’s attention back to him at that very moment.

She stopped them at the car, him looking it over. 2017 black Elantra. “Those are all really good movies. My favorite is the… third? One? The high school one.” You countered, facing him. 

“Personally I love the original. A true classic.” He offered, leaning against the car like a cool guy in an early 2000’s rom com. “What other movies do you like? Childish or not.” It felt as if he didn’t want this date to end. Not that you did either.

You held onto your purse strap tightly as you thought, “Childish would be Disney’s Hercules. None would be this comedy I saw a few years ago, Without A Paddle. Super funny.”

“Never heard of it.” Matt’s words caused you to gasp. It was an amazing movie.

You shook your head quickly. “What? You have to. It has Matthew Lillard in it and he's amazing. So are the other guys, Dax Shepard and Seth Green.” You listed off, the movie being so ingrained in your mind that you could pretty much quote half of it right in that moment.

Matt shrugged, “I’m sorry,” Quick glance to his watch, “I love this conversation but I have to go… maybe we can watch that together sometime?” He asked, causing you to stop mid sentence, a blush falling over your cheeks.

A second date. So this one went well. You went all out of your usual comfort zone and it went well. “Yeah, yeah we should.” You replied and Matt once again nodded, waving and giving his goodbyes before walking the way you’d come, to find his own truck.

Once he was gone you grinned widely, getting into your car. 

Everything about today was different. The past eight months had been nothing but hell. Love had scorned you more times than you could count, Jeremy worse than others. But Matt felt different. In a world of black cats he was a golden retriever. It was… refreshing? 

That wasn’t exactly the word that you wanted to use but it’s what you felt. Everything felt better. Bigger. Comfier.

So on this beautiful Wednesday morning. you could feel it Beginning Again.

JOIN MATTS TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @winchesterszvonecek, @halsteadbrasil, @wnbweasley, @firetruckstuckley

[jingchu-time]

Hello Charwhit fans, I am here to make you sad.

Okay, so plenty of people have brought up the concept of Culprit Whit, and I do enjoy that concept, I do.

However, I'd now like to bring up the idea of Victim Charles (mainly for Chapter 3).

Whit made a funny little comment about Charles dying at 3 for being fatally unfunny. DRDT likes to foreshadow stuff. Take Teruko's Prosopagnosia for example, which was foreshadowed in the prologue, with her not recognizing Charles by his appearance. I'm not saying it will happen, I'm just saying consider.

As discussed in my way to long analysis, Whit tends to keep a calm persona. He's never given much reaction to the deaths of the others.

He wasn't close to any of them though.

If Charles were to die, then Whit would be forced to face it. Whit can't just pretend it never happened like he does with his mom. He and Charles stand next to each other in the trial room, so he has to acknowledge it, whether he likes it or not.

But also imagine how bad that would mess up his mental state. Charles is Whit's only real friend in the killing game. He's social with everyone else, but not extremely close to them. If Charles were to die, then that leaves Whit completely alone. His mom is dead, his father isn't active at all in his life, and his only friend is dead.

He could try and think positive, but there only so far you can push something like that before there is no positivity left to hold on to (trust me).

This all goes without me mentioning that they'll (probably) continue to grow closer during Chapter 3 (if neither is the culprit of the 2nd case).

Idk, I just find the idea interesting.

(I'd like to bring up Teruko, someone that both Charles and Whit are (semi-)close to. How she'd act is dependable on how she develops. Maybe she'll show sympathy, maybe she'll be like, "Now you see how terrible trusting others is because they all leave you" or something like that. I bring her up since she's close-ish to Charles and Whit has lots of interactions with her. Plus how she reacts could lead to some interesting reactions from Whit)

---

I'll reorganize my thoughts in the morning. Take this more messy version for now.

[flower-boi16]

My Thoughts on Hazbin's First Episode

So Viv just posted the first episode of HH a day before the actual show was supposed to release for SOME REASON and I decided to watch it. Here are my thoughts;

The characters are...ok? Charlie and Vaggie are fine, Nipsy is kinda cute and funny, Alastor is also fine, and Angel Dust sucks.

Speaking of Angel - so far his one character trait is that he's extremely horny. And most of his jokes are NOT funny.

The episode got a handful of laughs out of me but was mostly kind of unfunny.

The camera work gets VERY weird at times. The episode constantly cuts to different perspectives and it becomes kind of a headache to look at. It is especially bad at the beginning of the Happy Day in Hell song - where they constantly cut to different perspectives all the time throughout the beginning of the song. It gets better after that but the camera work is still very wonky at times.

The animation is fine - not amazing but it is at least pleasant to look at.

Its REALLY clear now that they are going to make Hevean evil, which is kind of a good or bad thing depending on who you ask. Personally, I thought it would have been more interesting if Hevean wasn't evil like I previously said.

There's kind of a contradiction here; in the opening exposition dump, Charlie says that the reason why Hevean does the exterminations to ensure that Hevean never rises up against them; but then later in the episode when she is pitching her idea to Adam, they go back to the overpopulation in hell problem as the reason why the exterminations are happening - and Charlie says that the hotel is meant to solve the overpopulation problem - when she knows that the real reason why Hevean does the exterminations is that Hevean doesn't want Hell getting more powerful - its weird that the episode just creates a new reason for why the exterminations happen but then goes back to the old one.

Don't care for Adam as a character so far, I don't hate him but I also don't find him that entertaining of an antagonist so far. Also didn't care for his song primarily due to the lyrics.

The episode doesn't really introduce anything - like there's an opening exposition dump but it doesn't introduce you to any of the characters, it just kind of expects you to watch the pilot first even though the pilot isn't canon.

In terms of positives - I liked Happy Day in Hell as a song.

Like I said, most of the characters so far are fine aside from Angel Dust. They aren't amazing but they're fine.

The subplot of Vaggie trying to create a better commercial for the hotel was cute.

So overall the episode was...ok? I didn't really love it and it showed clear signs of issues that would probably plague the show in the future, but overall I didn't hate it. There was some enjoyment I got out of it but still not great or even that good. Probably a 5-6/10 though I'm kinda leaning more towards a 6/10. It's just average to me.

[where-is-your-boy-t0night]

very rough and incomplete bullet points from aizas perspective of the story

feliks and aiza were childhood friends, they even survived the transition to secondary school!

however since beginning secondary school, aiza found just about any and every reason to dislike herself. shes insecure, like most young girls of her age, and being shoved into the 'cool' crowd didnt help. everyone is so judgy these days, right? at least she still has feliks.

aiza makes some really good friends. shes got an established close friend group now, actually, which is awesome. her main girls are noa, sabrina, evie and samara. nice.

aiza compares herself to everybody. literally everybody. she overthinks a lot and she perceives herself to be lagging behind, or something like that. she makes many an attempt to ensure that nobody else can think the same.

once she and feliks were about 14 they were closer than ever. romantic, even, which was new. aiza was extremely nervous to mess this up, but she was so excited to have a boyfriend, and especially for that boyfriend to be someone she already knows is great. their relationship is perfect, for a time.

feliks is being weird with her... for some reason. aiza tries not to overthink it, for once. its not like hes avoiding her. noa tells her that hes probably just also nervous because, after all, this whole intimacy thing might be new for him too. aiza doubts that it is, but at the same time maybe her bff has a point.

out of the blue, she spent almost the whole october week break no contact with feliks. at first, its whatever. hes probably just busy with homework or something. this was, however, an unlikely scenario. feliks hates homework. aiza becomes worried for him and catches up with him at school once they return. why isnt he explaining himself..?

"i cant go out with you anymore." or something along those lines. oh god. aizas whole world crumbled in front of her eyes right then. why? what changed? what did she do to deserve radio silence? not a single clue, but it must have been her fault. oh god.

aiza felt like every insecurity she had before had been magnified by about 500 times. what if all of her other friends secretly couldnt stand her and wanted her to leave them alone? what if noa thought she was boring and bland, unfunny and embarrassing? she must want a different best friend. she should pick sabrina or evie, they were so much more interesting and way cooler than aiza. she felt sick.

she tried to put on a brave face. if her friends asked her where feliks had went (she had no idea herself) she would tell them that he was just being a huge jerk and she didnt want anything to do with him anymore. she wished that were true.

noa would come to hear almost everything aiza had to say about feliks. 'almost' meaning just her anger, not her sadness. aizas sadness was private, for when she was alone. like when she felt like crying into her pillow at night.

her anger manifested in her throwing things at her bedroom walls, or feeling the need to walk right up to feliks and scream in his face. she hated him she hated him so so so much. what the hell made him think he could do this to her? after all their years of friendship?

at the same time, she didnt really hate him. she didnt understand how she felt, actually. he lingered on her mind much more than he deserved to.

she found out that enzo was friends with feliks now, which she found from the oh so trustworthy source of information which was karim, obviously. she didnt know enzo that well. anyway, she found him on the yard after she heard of this, and mildly confronted him. feliks is not someone you want to get close to, you know. she couldnt tell what enzo thought about her. was that skepticism in his expression? wanker.

aiza didnt hear much more from or about feliks at all, he had stopped talking to all of his other friends too, it seemed. this didnt make aiza feel any better, but at least it wasnt just her. she spoke to izak privately about it. he was feliks' best friend, the two of them could relate to each other on that. he didnt know much. their conversation became deep, though. aiza misread the situation and kissed izak... oops. he was not happy about that.

maybe aiza shouldve felt worse about what she did, especially since izak had a girlfriend already, who was evie, who was one of her closest friends. but she didnt feel that bad. she kind of didnt like evie that much anymore, anyway. (she felt terrible and scared, mostly in case noa or sabrina reacted badly to this... if they were to find out.)

once evie found out, there was a big argument in the refectionary. the perfect place to shout about something if you want the entire year to also hear about it. even feliks heard about it.

...who is nikita?

[acacia-may]

Acacia~! 💖

If it’s alright, I have two ships to ask about… 😅

Could you share your thoughts on Finral x Finesse and Levy x Gajeel, please?

Hi Erika! It is always so lovely to hear from you. I hope you are doing fantastically and finding lots of time to write and enjoy your favorite things! 💖 Thank you so much for the ask. Of course you can ask about more than one pairing. ^^

Finral x Finesse

Finral x Finesse does make sense and compels me to an extent (though I'll admit other pairings for both of them compel me more personally 😅). It's a very sweet ship, and I can see how they would be well suited for each other since they are both very kind, generous, and selfless people. I love the idea of them each getting to be in a relationship with someone who is equally as big-hearted as they are, and I can imagine them being extremely happy together even if the circumstances in which they would be getting together aren't the best. As I've been pretty vocal about, I have extremely strong and very negative opinions about the idea of Finral returning to House Vaude in order to marry her and that kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth with regards to this pairing which I otherwise like and enjoy based on their interactions and dynamic alone.

I just really, really wish this ship wasn't so tangled up in the House Vaude succession drama (plus does she have to be engaged to his brother? Why is that necessary??). It's just so much more complicated than it needs to be and often times very messy and not handled as a well as it should be especially when it's tied to such heavy, life-altering decisions like Finral returning to his abusive home (i.e. it's often played for melodrama and extremely unfunny laughs. It was also introduced really late and don't even get me started about the whole Langris thing...). It's these outside circumstances that really make it hard for me to go all in for a pairing I probably would have enjoyed a lot more under different (better) circumstances, but I do like them and understand people who really ship them and don't mind the handling of the pairing in the canon. It's just hard for me to look past that so I have complicated feelings about it.

Gajeel x Levy

Gah I freaking adore this ship! It's my favorite pairing in all of Fairy Tail no question at all. Their relationship arc was incredibly compelling and was one of my favorite plotlines in the entire series. I went in knowing that they were a canon ship but not really knowing anything about them. Needless to say, I was a little perplexed in the beginning seeing as they had that whole enemies to lovers thing going on, but it was really interesting to get to see how their relationship developed over time and I'll admit I got super invested.

I'm not always the biggest fan of enemies to lovers, but I think Gajeel x Levy is a really great example of how good that trope can be. I love that they found forgiveness and understanding then built this friendship with each other based on mutual respect. Gajeel knew he had to prove to Levy that he was sorry and that he had changed, and he showed this with his actions, knowing that it wasn't enough for him to just say he was sorry and that things were different. I also loved that his character arc, while inspired by Levy and (eventually) his love for her, was also independent of her and was something that Gajeel wanted for himself. He wanted to better himself and to become a man who was worthy of her regardless of whether Levy ever returned his affections, and I found that incredibly refreshing, compelling, and wholesome. I was really rooting for him throughout his entire arc, and the selflessness and devotion he shows not just towards Levy but towards his other friends as well by the end of the series is really moving. I was honestly a little misty-eyed during his incredibly heartfelt and vulnerable confession.

By believing in him and choosing to see the best in him, Levy inspired Gajeel to see himself as something more, something better than he ever believed he could be, and I love that he inspires and builds her up too (like when he helped her during the Tenrou Island arc). They really do have this great dynamic. I adore their banter and the way they balance each other and help each other explore different points of views and ways of seeing the world.

I could ramble about this pairing forever, but yes, I think they make a lot of sense and I ship them so, so much. They're absolutely compelling to me, but I can understand how some people might not be a fan of this ship given its beginnings and the inexcusable actions of Gajeel during the Phantom Lord arc. For me though, I think the series did a very good job of making a compelling slow burn for them and showing that Gajeel really had changed and had become someone worthy of Levy and her love. I am personally very glad they got their happy ending. Thank you so much for asking about them! 💕

[reminiscentreader]

@nqds you thought I wouldnt actually do it 🤭😘

Reasons why I love nads (500 words) (actually 611 but who cares)

Ok so firstly the reasons I’m writing this is to a) spite nads and b) because I love her, I really really don’t know where to start with you nads i srsly love you so so much but I guess I’m breaking down into extreme detail my favorite things about you, i guess I’ll start with how beautiful you are and get into the deeper stuff later, first of all you have the most beautiful eyes ever, there brown colour just has something so comforting about them that makes me feel so safe and happy, I’d do anything to see them in real life one day, or to hug you, I don’t really mind I’ll take either, but your hair looks so shiny?!? Like it looks so smooth and amazing, my ratty hair could never. Ok now I’ve talked about how amazingly beautiful you are I want to talk about how happy you make me, you honestly make me so so happy nads, whenever we talk I have the biggest most stupidest grin on my face ever, you’d probably say I’m pathetic for wanting for you to love me but idc because I love you and you make me so so happy, you deserve to be loved, not just loves, but you deserve everything from a hot chocolate and a snuggly blanket to a perfect life, In my eyes you are quite literally an angel in disguise, kind of like my own personal angel though, anyway next I’ve compiled a list of song lyrics I’d like to dedicate to you, my little Christmas tree:

‘Long live all the mountains we moved I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.”

“But if god forbid fate should step in, and force us into a goodbye, if you have children some day, when they point to the pictures, please tell them

My name’

‘To you I can admit, that I’m just to soft for all of it’

‘We survived the great war’

‘You’ve been stressed out lately yeah me too’

‘I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm’

‘Family that I chose’

Ok that bit of my speech was done, now for the really soppy cheesy bit, I love you so so much, you are quite literally the best friend I’ve ever had, you make me happy and I feel safe when I talk to you, there’s not a lot of people in my life who I can talk to, definitely not any people I’d talk to the way I talk to you, I don’t know how you put up with my sensitive bullshit all the time, and my unfunny jokes, and my random rants, and my horrible writing skills and punctuation, but you do, you do all the time ans you never ever complain, have I ever told you that I read your blog like a morning newspaper, every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is go onto to tumblr and like all the posts you made while I was asleep, plus ur so cool I don’t know what possessed you to become friends with someone like me but I’m so so so glad you did, I have never ever loved someone as much as I love you, you can call this the cringiest thing you’ve ever seen but idc because you need this, I want nothing more than for you to be happy, you don’t even need to love me as much as I love you, but you will always be my best friend, my little Christmas tree, my nadsies, I love so so much <3

[rescue-ram]

hawktrap, and if someone got there before me, beejhawk

(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) TrapHawk ✨

Ship It

1. What made you ship it?

Waugh, the first MASH episode I remember seeing was Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde, and the funny-turns-touching caretaking instantly set off the little shippy bulb in my brain. I love best friend ships, I love the love and affection between them, I love that they're a paired set and the support they show, and I feel like there's a really special quality to their friendship that makes them feel Very Important to each other. Plus they have great chemistry.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Kfksjsj low key got ahead of myself there. But the thing that keeps me hooked is how flexible they ss characters and their dynamic is. I feel like there's lots of angles you can take and lots of scenarios to explore while still keeping the characters in line with what we see in the show. I love that they're in sync 95% of the time, but those little gaps leave just enough room for drama or angst. I love that they're inveterate kinksters AND softboys who care for each other. They're just great.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I mean there are certain common takes on both characters, especially Trapper, that make me cuckoo bananas rageful. The whole Trapper Abandoned Hawkeye and Broke His Heart thing 🔪🔪🔪 I will also die on the hill that Trapper Is Much Softer Than People Give Him Credit For and Hawkeye Is Much Stronger. Trying to think of how to phrase my gripes and opinions such that I don't come off as unnecessarily bitchy lol. But like, it is SO HARD to find stuff for these two that Works for me. I think they're more interesting and complex than they're given credit for.

Annnnd BeejHawk 🍵

Don't Ship It

1. Why don’t you ship it?

I feel like you articulated this at a deep level beautifully in your meta a few days ago lol. I mean fundamentally I am a Trapper Girl TM and TrapHawk is my One True Pairing, so this was always doomed to at best second tier "I like it fine" ship status tbh. But there's just too much friction in the relationship on screen, there's some genuine meanness and anger, they misunderstand each other at key points, and I don't see the chemistry between them. Being extremely petty and subjective for a second, I just don't like BJ as a character very much, I find him frequently mean and petty and annoying and unfunny. Hawkeye can do better.

2. What would have made you like it?

Augh. Okay, I think in a lot of BJHawk interactions that others read as shippy, I see an edgy clinginess that makes me Uncomfy. So BJ being less "repressed neurotic" and a little more ease in their relationship. Also the fundamental biggest barrier to BJHawk is BJ Loves His Wife and Child, and I don't want to like. Get rid of that aspect of his character because it's vital to him, y'know? But maybe more of Hawkeye corresponding with Peg and building up a friendship with her- it could even be comedic, where he's planning a surprise for BJ who's getting increasingly suspicious then is amused/embarrassed/fond when he figures it out, but just like a sense Hawkeye could be included in the family dynamic without being wildly unfair to Peg, or even just BJ being a little more liberated sexually such that it's easier to imagine them conducting an affair that doesn't IMMEDIATELY implode his marriage. I mean, BJ is the deuteragonist for 2/3 of the show, obviously I have thoughts on their dynamic and how it would change with a romantic or sexual element to it, but I frankly don't see Gay BJ at all, I don't see Bi BJ at all, he's sooooo heterosexual to me, so a more sexually ambiguous or chill BJ is necessary lol. Also more BJ taking care of Hawkeye, more buddy vibes and funny coziness! And like this is probably me ragging too much on BJ... IDK it's hard to say how Hawkeye would need to change, he's already trying to be a good friend given the circumstances... I mean, for my subjective ship tastes 90% of my personal turn offs come from BJ, so Hawkeye is not really the problem in this ship for me. I guess something that really bugs me about the BJHawk fic I've tried that turns me off the ship is Sad Sack Hawkeye, so maybe more content with spunky prankster Hawkeye and co-conspirator BJ, or a proactive seductive Hawkeye pursuing BJ, romancing him, making it more of a "I want this because I want you" than a "I'm clinging to this because I need you" thing, which isn't sexy to me.

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Jfkdndkdn. Yeah, I guess. It's not like. A bad ship. I get it. They were The Pair for 8 seasons, they have many many moments to build a ship on, it's not without merit or something. They're friends who've been brought together in horrible circumstances, they go through a lot, they're close, there's some great scenes for them. I think you can get some interesting scenarios out of their dynamic, though my brain runs a little darker and angstier than shippy. But it is just so very much Not My Cup of Tea in either the show or in the fan works I've tried. Even fics that were otherwise interesting and well-written and in character, the BJHawk elements were pure 😬 to me. Truly truly "Your ship is not my ship and that's okay" situation.

[adultswim2021]

The Boondocks #28: “The Story of Gangstalicious Part 2” | February 4, 2008, - 11:30PM | S02E13

A follow-up to the first Gangstalicious episode. In this episode, we find out that RIley has continued to be in touch with Gangstalicious, who sends Riley free CDs and other merch all the time. It’s evident (and eventually confirmed) that the reason for this is he’s effectively sending Riley these care packages as a hush payment. The punchline from the first episode (Riley in extreme denial about Gangstalicious’ sexuality, that is) carries over to this one; Riley just thinks they’re good friends and still believes that he hallucinated Gangstalicious’ doing a big gay kiss on the lips with another fella.

Ganstalicious has a song called “Homies over Hoes” which is tearing up the charts. In fact, Gangsatlicous has never been hotter. He even debuts his fashion line on Regis and Kelly, which is just ridiculously gay stuff. Riley, still oblivious, proudly wears the gay guy stuff, while Grandad panics about his grandson becoming a gay dude. Riley stays in denial, even in the face of a tell-all book written by a woman who was rebuffed by Gangstalicious for being gay reasons. Eventually, Riley confronts Gangstalicious and asks him point blank if he’s gay. Gangstalicious still denies it, and Riley wholeheartedly accepts his denial at face value. And that’s the end.

This is a really funny one, but it may not be to some people’s tastes. The harsh gay panic on display from some of the characters will come off outdated or just unfunny to plenty. It’s important to note that this was an era when I think most gay-panic comedy was written with some degree of irony, or at the very least it was presented that way after the fact by a lot of creatives who weren’t done going to the gay jokes well. It’s, of course, absurd to be homophobic, which is why it’s funny when we write a character calling another person gay, that kind of thing. Nevermind they are reaping the benefits of having chucklheads from the midwest just taking those jokes at face value and enjoying them wholeheartedly. 

A lot of these jokes are weaponized now for various battles in modern culture wars. I have a distaste for anyone taking stuff like the “You know how I know you’re gay?” scene from The 40 Year Old Virgin and balling up their fists in outrage either that those jokes ever existed or that current movies aren’t telling jokes exactly those ones anymore. Please just let being gay or trans be normal. I promise, it’s much more important than being able to see gay jokes in new movies. You can still watch this episode on HBOMax right now and laugh at it in the privacy of your own home, if you want. We don’t need the same gay jokes that were told about Michael Jackson to be told again about [I literally have no idea who to put here, sorry!]. 

But basically, yes, the only truly sympathetic character here might be Gangsalicious himself, who has to continue living a lie. Riley is homophobic because he’s a dumb kid. Granddad is homophobic because he’s an old stupid man. Thugnificent and his crew are homophobic because they are cowardly, literally seen shaking and hiding from the gay man at their doorstep they originally agreed to collab with. Huey is even guilty in this episode because he might directly benefit from Riley’s perceived gayness and get his own room. This episode accurately reflects a time when being homophobic was just the easiest path. 

I’m probably giving the episode too generous of a read here. I have no clue how Aaron mcgruder feels about gay people. I personally don’t know how actually homophobic the jokes are meant to be. The disclaimer at the start is rather coarse, and if that’s the only thing we have to go on then this episode probably deserves some flack. But I thought the episode was funny, and it might be in part due to the mental gymnastics I did to make it reflect my own feelings a little more. And at the end of the day, aren’t my own delusions the most important thing in the entire world?

[bluesky-z]

some of my opinions about Graduation Day (spoilers, obviously)

I was going to post this earlier but alas I forgot

It was meh.

Art style.

It never grew on me. It felt like a colored manga. A very strangely colored manga. I list this as the first thing because style is very different depending on the person. I just didn't like that art.

The characters.

Jaime didn't really feel like Jaime.

When you put stress on someone, they do act different, but we have seen how Jaime reacts to stress in the original comic. He doesn't isolate himself. He reaches out to his father, his friends. Or they reach out to him. That's what's so different about Jaime's story- he doesn't have to go through this alone. But this time they shut him out, they don't listen to him, they toss him into another city. Paco and Brenda weren't his friends, they were side characters. We hardly see Bianca and Alberto and Milagro.

And are you going to sit there and tell me that after Jaime missing for a year in the past, his family immediately after graduation dump him on his aunts?

Bianca would have never done that. Alberto would've never done that. I guess Milagro would be happy because she gets his room now but that's beside the point.

The few characters that were introduced weren't dynamic at all. They were sloppily written. Fadeaway is a jerk. The two new scarabs are two-dimensional. They all had so much potential, but it was flushed like crap. Victoria and Ted were probably the best written, but they aren't the focus of the story.

The storyline.

There are so many things you could do to simplify it, or some parts you could take out. The one that bothers me the most is the sudden change that Dynastes has to trust Jaime. The story structure needs her to trust Jaime, but it was very fast. One second she's trying to kill him the next she's protecting him.

(What I'm trying to say, is the writer in me is screaming that when Jaime sacrificed himself for Dynastes should've been her turing point.)

Also, who is Jaime going to face in the next run? The Reach again? What's going to make it different this time?

The origin of Jaime is very jumbled. Are we sticking to the original comic? Rebirth? Batman the Brave and the Bold? Young Justice? Some strange combination of all of them? Ted is alive, so how does that fit into Jaime's origin? It was a strange place to take off at.

The dialogue.

The dialogue in here was horrible.

The amount of unfunny jokes and strange one-liners, like the green beetle calling herself a goth girl, is something that should not be officially published. I guarantee no goth girl has called herself a goth girl like this.

The Horizon.

I had really high expectations for the Horizon. They were something I never really thought about, something that could so easily be tied into all other Blue Beetle stories. They were the original enemies of the Reach, the people that stood up to them long before anyone else did.

They're a bunch of scared piss-ons?

I guess I already had a clear image of what I wanted them to be. I was expecting warrior scarbs, and I got an old Reach dude. Where are the other scarabs? Why are you so scared of the Reach, but not have a protector on board?

Few things I liked:

• COVER ART

• the horizon.

• character designs

• potential of more scarabs

• time management

I feel like the writers only skimmed the original. Or maybe read it once a long time ago. Also the random fan service didn't fit? Didn't come here to see Jaime extremely caked up.

It was short, so they couldn't do much of anything. But it should've been a solid six issues.

(Kinda thinking about rewriting it, like making a fanfiction?? That's how much all of these are bothering me.)

Thanks for reading all the way down to here. I give you these gifts.

[writteninscarlet]

GET TO KNOW THE WRITER

BOLD OR COLORIZE WHAT ALWAYS APPLIES TO YOU, ITALICIZE WHAT SOMETIMES APPLIES TO YOU, AND STRIKE THROUGH WHAT WILL NEVER APPLY TO YOU.

I RUN: lots of blogs || a few blogs || just this one

So I write here (of course), and then have Laura and Greer over at @gottahunt , and occasionally get on @whereisthatwritten but frankly I'm in the process of completely overhauling it and probably that will be simply for Valeria Richards and Molly Hayes (because all the other muses get all the grief and angst, bring in the teen heroes). For now, I'm here the most.

I FOLLOW BACK: muses in the same fandom || muses /blogs who interest me || fandomless muses || friends of mutuals || only members of a closed rp group || everyone

I don't ever think of myself as highly selective, and if I notice you've followed me there's a really good chance I'll follow back - unless I'm unaware of the fandom, probably. But I'm also easily distracted and don't always catch new followers.

I AM ACTIVE: more days than not || as often as not || some days here and there || depending on my school schedule || rarely || I'm often lurking even if I seem inactive

So my work lately has let me be here more often, and I tend to schedule some things through the day. I have periods of high activity, then low activity - and when it's lower, I'll try to have stuff queued.

I LIKE TO WRITE THESE THEMES: fluff || angst || action || casual interactions || intense interactions ||crack || first meetings || platonic rp || shipping / romantic rp || threads || ask memes || prompts

I will write anything and everything. I mean, I'm so unfunny and so slow at times I can never do crack right but I try! But yeah, I love platonic stuff. Love good old family and friends threads. I love some fighting and action, and drama. (with a splash of fluff). And I love shipping as well.

I PREFER ROLEPLAYS THAT ARE: one-liners || single-para threads || mutli para threads || novella || different lengths depending on my mood

I tend to write a lot. And I will apologise for that, because most of the time it's like... descriptions or inner monologue. I mean, please just let me know when I ramble too much. I've been rambling here! I tend to always go multi-para (but that can be as simple as two paragraphs), but I also can write more. It does depend on the mood. Please never be afraid of matching length.

FOR SHIPPING, I AM: multiship || single ship || poly ship || no ship || plotted ships only || open to new ships || not looking for new ships || mostly or exclusively looking for high engagement ship partners || mostly or exclusively looking for casual or low engagement ship partners || not picky about ships || somewhat picky about ships || extremely picky about ships

My only shipping rule, really, is chemistry. Whether it is a canon ship or not, it has to work out here. Sometimes people have different styles, some things are better as friends or rivals. So I'm not overly picky? I enjoy plotting ships but also enjoy spontaneous things and winging it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t! And I’m always open to trying things. And if anyone wants a verse specific to our ship, I am open to it - I love having in jokes or mentioning other muses in other threads!

I LIKE TO PLOT: everything || most interactions || some interactions || first interactions || nothing || threads || everything except memes and crack || ships || family relationships || history / backstory for our muses

I love to chat about my muses. I have many headcanons and many thoughts (most of them just shoving images of my muses at you!). So I’m always open to plotting. Some days I have ideas, sometimes I don’t. It can be nice when fandoms are different to plot out things, but I’m not rigid about following plots. If you ever want to plot, hit me up!

TALK TO ME OUT OF CHARACTER: anytime || to plot || if you're confused or have questions in general || to remind me to reply || sparingly || only if it's really important

Honestly the same as plotting! I’m here to talk. It can be random, it can be about your muse or mine. Or none! It can be about new or old comics, random ideas, about our pets, anything.

I GIVE ALTERNATIVE CONTACT METHODS (discord / social media) TO: friends || mutuals || anyone who asks || people i've spent a lot of time talking to already || ship partners || members of a certain rp group || no one

I spend time on Discord a lot. I plot there, chat there, and happy to rp there. You’re more likely to catch me there during working hours haha need something to keep me going

tagged by: @kylo-wrecked (thank you!)

tagging: anyone! I’m not sure everyone who has and hasn’t done it but feel free to take this!

[kiddbegins]

begin again

evan buckley x oc

aka me posting my buck x gwen first date for no reason

“On a Wednesday, in a cafe, I watched it Begin Again.”

Gwen stood in her bedroom, digging around through her clothes for the right thing to wear. Was this a casual thing? Yes. Did she want to dress super casual? No. Because this was the first time in months that she was allowing herself to have an ounce of happiness. Allowing herself to go out there and let someone see the rawest form a girl could have.

The outfit she chose went perfectly with a pair of heels she had bought last year but never worn. Jeremy never let her. Not to a party, not even to a business meeting he had had. So really it was a mystery if they fit. Guess now was a good time to try them on… right?

Hesitantly, she slipped the shoes on, double checking herself in the full length mirror behind her door. It was good. It was nice, didn’t scream business meeting or ‘hey lets ditch and have sex’, and considering she had work in only a couple hours and this was just coffee and pastries at a cafe, it felt perfect.

Her parents were out, their ritual was to have breakfast out at least twice a week. Today was one of the days so she was alone in her thoughts as she left the house. She plugged her phone into her car to play some music for the drive. Only fifteen minutes.

And those fifteen minutes were full of anxiety. Would Buck like her outfit? Like her on the side of things where she wasn’t a firefighter? Her heart was racing but she shook her head. If it didn’t work out like that, they’d be friends. Regardless of status, they’d already interacted enough to stay friends if everything plummeted.

She had to keep reminding herself that as she parked, all the spaces for the block were taken so she was a bit away when she finally got out. The cafe was around the corner and she fiddled with the hem of her shirt before starting the walk there.

With every step she went over what she expected to happen. She was a boring, unfunny mess so if anything Evan would probably get out of there earlier than expected, causing her to carry her half of the check and head to work licking her wounds.

The bell above the door jingled, alerting anyone around of her presence and she spotted her date at a table in the middle of the room. He saw her almost instantly, how could he not? Everytime the bell rang from the front he turned in his seat to see if she was now coming his way. The first 7 times it wasn’t, but it was now.

Instantly, he stood, smiling widely while waving her over. Gwen walked over to him, letting out a light breath before smiling back at him. It was impossible not to. “Hey,” He went in for a hug, wrapping his arms lightly around her before moving to pull the chair out for her. Something she was not used to one bit.

“Hi,” She smiled softly, sitting in the seat and watching as he moved to sit back down. He’d already had a cup of coffee on the table but that was it, it seems he was waiting for her to even have something to nibble on. “How’s your morning been?” She added, a lady coming over to get an order in for the two.

Once she left, Buck shrugged. “Can’t complain. Not gonna lie I was worried you weren’t going to show.” He offered right off the bat, causing Gwen’s eyebrows to raise. And here she was thinking that he wasn’t going to be all that excited to see her.

She hid a smile before shaking her head, “I’m not exactly a flaker.”

“Thank god, imagine how embarrassing that’d be for me.” He joked, taking a sip of his extremely light coffee.

Gwen noticed the color of it and chuckled lightly. “How much cream is in that cup?”

“Probably about 50% of it.” He laughed and shook his head, “Nah, maybe like 4 of those little cups they give you. She gave me a weird look when I was putting them in too.” He sat back as Gwen’s coffee was brought out along with two muffins. One chocolate chip, one blueberry. The chocolate one was Buck’s.

She reached over and grabbed three of the equal packets, swirling it into her coffee. “Dark and sweet.” Buck spoke, “Light and bitter, two sides of a coin.” He stated and Gwen nodded. If it were Jeremy he would have rolled his eyes and told her not to waste the sugar in a drink where you can’t even taste it.

The thought of him made her shift in her seat, crossing her ankles loosely. Buck didn’t notice the slight change in demeanor so he leaned forward slightly. “Not to be the person that asks a million questions on a first date but this is a need to know, what music do you listen to? Because I listen to a mix of like rock and pop but I don’t think I can stand someone that listens to hard rap or something. No offense if you do but-”

“Evan,” She cut in with a laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t listen to hard rap. Or country really? Though there are some songs that I could scream at the top of my lungs. Mainly classic rock, my dad was a big metal head in his day and age. And of course hispanic music, being Cuban I couldn’t go any night in the summer without my neighbors blaring the music so loud that I’m positive you could hear it three blocks away.” Gwen tended to ramble when it came to things she liked talking about.

Music was one of those topics. She could go on and on about the classic rock band Queen, or Fleetwood Mac to Celia Cruz. “Yeah? Around my neighborhood if the neighbors could hear your music then you were being an inconvenience.” Buck countered, looking at her with awe. “But I’m glad we got that covered, cause like I said, I’m peculiar about my music choices.”

“I feel like everyone is peculiar in their taste of something. Like for instance if you like mint chocolate chip ice cream I might have to just up and leave this table right now,” Now she was joking to an extent but the taste of that flavor ice cream made her want to gag.

By the look on Buck’s face, he was guilty of her charge, “Okay well this was nice,” She fake got up before shaking her head, “No I’m kidding but don’t ever ask me to have a bite.”

He held up his right hand and nodded, “Swear.” A solid laugh came out of his mouth, catching her by surprise. Nobody ever thought she was funny. Any joke she tried to do was met with a blank face, maybe a pair of rolled eyes before the conversation continued.

In response to Buck’s laugh a grin spread on her face, “What’s your favorite band? You said you like classic rock right?” She asked, picking off a piece of her muffin to eat.

He didn’t answer right away, there was a clear sign of thought on his face. Thinking over his answer. “Hm, I like a lot of them, what a heavy question.” He mumbled with a light smile, looking down at his hands in a bout of concentration.

“Cause like, Queens iconic, so many good songs. But if I’m honest I really like The Animals. They have some really good songs. House of the Rising Sun is a classic.”

“No way, that’s been one of my favorites since I was little. I had a neighbor when I was a kid that only listened to like obscure bands and they were one of them. I have basically all of their albums in some form.” Gwen rushed out excitedly, seeing the smile on Buck’s face widen as she spoke more.

The boy leaned forward happily, “You get it! God I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that actually likes their music or has it anywhere but Spotify.”

The two rambled about classic rock for the next twenty minutes, who the best Beatles member was, which Motley Crue song they listened to most. It was as if the two were catching up after not seeing each other for ages rather than a first date.

“You know,” Buck randomly spoke after a moment of silence for both of them to drink the coffees in front of them. “I never understood the people that call the sun a planet.” He finally took a bite of his muffin and it was giant. The entire top was basically off of it, that's how big of a bite it was.

Gwen’s eyebrows raised in surprise as Buck ate it peacefully. “For example, I was out on this call once, and the guy was making a solar system diorama for his kid. But the sun was labeled a planet. Only noticed because he had somehow managed to get a skewer through his cheek, was going to leave that out but felt like you’d ask how I’d notice that little detail. Anyway I tried to correct him but he insisted he was right.”

He rolled his eyes. Finishing the top of his muffin while Gwen was still picking at hers. Though she was a sucker for talking about music or things she was interested in, when it came to stuff she wasn’t knowledgeable on or didn’t like, she fell quiet. Shy even.

“I love space, I don’t really know much but it’s so beautiful. I’d love to visit like Mars, or maybe one that hasn’t been visited.” She offered, there wasn’t much she knew about space so she just offered up the closest thing that she did. It was beautiful.

He finished off his coffee before looking at her, “Same, but I’m staying away from venus. You know it's the hottest planet in the solar system? You’d think it’s mercury but nope, venus.” Buck spewed off a random fact, catching Gwendolyn’s attention more than he already did.

She flinched back as her face twisted in confusion, “Oh? Why?” She was interested in what he had to say, maybe it was the idea of still learning new things at 26 or maybe it was his excited expression as he thought over what he was gonna say briefly before talking. Whichever it was, he was ready to offer up any information.

“Mercury has almost no atmosphere, which is what would hold in the heat from the sun. Unlike Venus, which has a suuuuper thick and heavy atmosphere. Have you ever been in a real greenhouse?” Buck was talking with his hands the entire time, and Gwen could pinpoint the excitement down his fingers.

“Uh…” She had to think, Rhode Island didn’t have many areas for stuff like that. “I don’t think I can say I have.” New York didn’t have any either, well, at least not that she knew of.

Buck scooched his seat closer, trying to keep his voice to where only the two of them could hear. “Well, Venus’ atmosphere makes it like a greenhouse, super hot and toxic. I’m talking ‘melt and erode you’ toxic.” He went on for a few minutes about the atmosphere and how Venus didn’t have enough water to bring co2 levels down and there was too much sulfur.

Gwen simply sat with her legs crossed and listened. Hopefully some of the information would stick and she’d be able to tell her parents about the planets and everything else Evan was so happily rambling about.

Both of their drinks were gone by now and same went for their muffins. The last ten minutes had just been pointless conversation about whatever came up as a topic.

“So why’d you become a firefighter?” Gwen asked, finally landing on the reason the two had even met. And what a terrifying first day it was. Buck’s face twinged down, causing her to lean forward slightly. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it.” She offered.

It was ingrained in her mind to always make sure the other person being talked to was comfortable. “I do, I became a firefighter because I knew that helping people, and having a sort of reason to my life was what I needed.” He offered, his eyes going down to a random stain on the table. A spot of coffee that he had spilt earlier.

“From what I saw at that highrise, you’re doing good.” Gwen offered. It was true, hearing how he (and Eddie) had handled both the girl and the injured man during that earthquake was amazing.

He slightly nodded, seeming to get into his head for a moment or so, some sort of hidden demon in his mind grabbing a hold while he sat for a nice morning meal. “Anyway, what about you?” He was good at diverting, bringing the conversation to someone other than himself when it came to topics that he didn’t want to talk about.

It was something he had developed the skill for in his earlier 20’s.

“Oh-, well, when I was younger my mom had really bad chest pains. So bad that she couldn’t even move to call 911. I was like, 12? Had never had something like that happen. She managed to get me to call them and they talked me through everything but being so vulnerable, so… open to the worst possible outcome, made me realize I want to help others the way that person at dispatch helped me.” The wrapped for the muffin was rolled and still being twisted between her fingers as she spoke.

It was hard then, her dad had been just out of town for some lawsuit, and her mom was so scared. Sarah was out with friends and Charlie was just a baby. Buck’s face fell soft, it seemed like a horrifying moment for anyone, especially a preteen.

“I’m sorry. Did she end up being okay?” He tentatively asked, unsure of what else to really say, parents can be a touchy subject. Trust that he knew. When Gwen nodded he let out a soft sigh of relief.

She placed the wrapper down gently, “Oh, yeah yeah, she made it. Everything was fine. Emphasis on was.” In an attempt to cut herself off from talking she dragged her eyes across the nearly spotless floors of the cafe.

Peaking at the strangers and how happy they seemed to be in their own social bubbles. When her eyes came back to Evan’s he had a look that came off like he wanted to know more, “I say was cause um, she has breast cancer now. Late stages. Don’t know if she’ll be able to get better but I’m okay, please, please, don’t give me that pity look.” It was one she didn’t know well in her own experience but had seen it enough around her to point it out.

On Buck it was his eyebrows tugging down along with the corners of his lips. “I’m not trying to, but I just, I am sorry that sucks. A lot. We can change the subject. Like, dream vacation spot?” He threw on a happy aura that slowly but surely dragged Gwen out by the hair.

“Hm, Venice probably. I want to ride on a gondola more than I want anything in this world. Maybe even more than be a firefighter.” She joked softly, earning another soft chuckle from the blonde across from her.

He nodded, his smile still as bright as the north star, “That’s a solid choice. I have a lot of choices and that’s definitely up there.” Which wasn’t exactly a proper answer to the question but seeing as it was pretty much time for them to head out, Gwen didn’t question it.

Both of their watches beeped: ten past nine. Meaning it was time to go. Buck stood first, tossing both of their trash away. Easily he pushed his chair in and offered his hand out to Gwen for her to take, leading them out of the building.

“This is kind of good, both working the same, or similar in time shifts. Makes hanging out wayy easier.” Evan stated, squinting as they stepped back into the sun, Gwen’s opposite hand going up to shield her eyes. He was right.

Dating as a first responder was hard. It isn’t easy for people that don’t get it. Same goes for doctors and such. Being with someone that has an odd schedule is difficult to adjust to. But other firefighters or paramedics could make it work.

As they walked down to her car, just chatting, Gwen wanted to tell him a million things. How she felt more accepted in this short date than the entirety of her last relationship. Or that him just getting her was such a refreshing change from Jeremy.

And she almost did.

Almost.

“You know, around this time of year my sister and I would always, always, watch the Halloween Town movies? It was always her favorite.” He broke their silence just a few feet from her car. Bringing the brunette’s attention back to him in that very moment.

She stopped them at the car, him looking it over. 2017 black Elantra. “Those are all really good movies. My favorite is the… third? One? The high school one.” She countered, facing him.

“Personally I love the original. A true classic.” He offered, leaning against the car like a cool guy in an early 2000’s romcom. “What other movies do you like? Childish or not.” It felt as if he didn’t want this date to end. Not that Gwen did either.

She held onto her purse strap tightly as she thought, “Childish would be Disney’s Hercules. Non would be this comedy I saw a few years ago, Without A Paddle. Super funny.”

“Never heard of it.” Buck’s words caused the girl to gasp. It was an amazing movie.

She shook her head quickly. “What? You have to. It has Matthew Lillard in it and hes amazing. So are the other guys, Dax Shepard and Seth Green.” Gwen listed off, the movie being so ingrained in her mind that she could pretty much quote half of it right in that moment.

Buck shrugged, “I’m sorry,” Quick glance to his watch, “I love this conversation but I have to go… maybe we can watch that together sometime?” He asked causing Gwen to stop mid sentence, a blush falling over her cheeks.

A second date. So this one went well. She went all out of her usual comfort zone and it went well. “Yeah, yeah we should.” She replied and Buck once again nodded, waving and giving his goodbyes before walking the way they came, to find his own jeep.

Once he was gone Gwen grinned widely, getting into her car.

Eveything about today was different. The past eight months had been nothing but hell. Love had scorned her more times than she could count, Jeremy worse than others. But Evan felt different. In a world of black cats he was a golden retriever. It was… refreshing?

That wasn’t exactly the word that Gwen wanted to use but it’s what she felt. Everything felt better. Bigger. Comfier.

So on this beautiful Wednesday morning. Gwen could feel it Beginning Again.

[jupitermelichios]

my cousin got me tickets to see spitting image live for christmas. I have no idea why, I've never watched the show, but hey, free theatre is free theatre

i've literally never walked out of a show before. i have nothing else to do today, i enjoy the experience of being in the theatre, and i have a pretty high tolerance for shit productions. I did local am-dram panto for years, willingly.

anyway i'm going to be a good citizen of the internet and leave my unhinged ranting below a cut, but if you're interesting in learning all the possible ways to fuck up a comedy show, read on

we left during the interval, and if we hadn't been in the middle of a row, I would have walked out about fifteen minutes in. not because it's 'edgy' (they literally started the show with a warning about how it might trigger the snowflakes, always a sign that what follows is going to be great comedy) because despite their best efforts it really wasn't. the closest they got to being edgy was a very bad kanye west joke that was clearly written in at the last minute because he went full neo-nazi after they'd finished the script. it was just... baaad.

i didn't find any of the jokes funny, but humour is subjective. but there was just a lot of really lazy stuff, like the lyrics in their parody songs didn't scan. they made tom cruise a main character, but were clearly afraid of getting sued by scientology, so the only joke they could make was about him being short, which is not a joke you can sustain for a 2 hour show. It's barely funny the first time. obviously the plot was extremely lose and just there to justify the impressions, but even so there was weird shit about it that just didn't make sense, like the villains were boris johnson and a cabal of evil, but also putin was there and a villain but not part of the cabal they kept just kind of cutting away to him in a way that felt very weird. also they missed so many good opportunities for jokes, like an extended bit about johnson trying to give carrie johnson a nepotism job and then cutting to trump for a reaction, but the trump joke was just 'he's a mysogynist' with zero reference to all the nepotism he did? which feels like a much more natural joke?

also elon musk is there and has a tesla car that transforms into a mech, genuinely an impressive puppet and probably the closest to an actual joke they got, but then the puppet was too big and clunky so he just leaves and doesn't come back with no explanation and no other jokes. also zuckerberg is there and they just straight up forgot to make any jokes about him? he's literally just standing there, and if I thought it was deliberate that might have been a funny joke, but i genuinely think they just forgot.

they also massively underestimated how many people in the uk watch drag race, rue paul was a main character in the show and got a lot of awkward silence. which admittedly might have been because they also didn't give him any jokes, they just had him say his catchphrases from drag race, but i honestly thing they thought the concept of drag queens was so inherently funny it would carry the character, and instead most of the audience just straight up didn't know who he was

also idris elba was in it and the joke was that he's boring? which i really feel like isn't the first thing most people think of when they think of action-movie actor and sex symbol idris elba, ngl

oh, and this i assume is a problem from the tv show that they got stuck with, but their suella braverman joke is that she's an evil haunted doll, which is like... it's not completely unfunny, and it's at least not racist, but also, this woman quote hitler in front of holocaust survivors and when called out doubled down, and the only joke you can think of is that she's annabelle? really?

i will give them one thing though, their half-lettuce half-liz truss puppet was pretty good.

anyway, don't go see this show, it's shit. my only regret about walking out is that i have blue hair and pronouns and i'm worried me walking out will have made people the show actually succeeded in being edgy and 'triggering the libs'