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97-liners · 1 year ago

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ok sorry it took me forever to get to this, i was moving when you posted it and believe me i've been on the edge of my seat waiting for this ever since you posted the first snippet of the wip last year and nearly killed me

as always review under the cut:

literally from the very first sentence, you knock it out of the park... i've said this before but you're SO GOOD at prose and i love the turns of phrase you use. just technically, you're sooo good. like you're too good to be writing on tumblr

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god. Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat. None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

like come onnnnnn 😭😭

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email. As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

this part was so funny to me also aflsjdfl

and also

This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

lmao u bitch 😭😭😭😭😭 ur the funniest writer on this fucking website

also of course seungcheol wars a rolex.... ostentatious and ugly. the banter between y/n and coups is also so funny. like, you pack in sooo much humor in the details

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster.

SHUT UP NOT THE BIG WET BABY COW EYES......

at the end of the office scene and beginning into the bagel shop, i love how there's so much malice and derision directed towards seungcheol, but y/n still doesn't miss the chance to talk about how attractive he is..... so true...

and then when you launch into y/n's plan to crash seungcheol's date and cause a scene i was sitting here like noooo babygirl no

i love how through the interactions with seungcheol at the restaurant, you intersperse little column titles... it's so funny 😭

lily i need to know. how many food stories and restaurant reviews did you read in research for this fic. the way you write about food is incredible, like YOU could be an award-winning nyt food columnist if you wanted to be

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

DFSHKJAJFL

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

again, you're just so good at writing, like idk how else to say it. you're good at writing!!!

and then i got to this part, the part that you posted last year and has been living in my head ever since

That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little. That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout. "So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff. "I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation." You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00. Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself. "You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

like, damn, you really know how to make a moment, huh? like, creating a little snowglobe within a fic, a moment that's like,,, so real ...

He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.

aauuggghhghghghhhhhh

What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

you're insane you're so good

He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.

and not only are you so good you're also so funny "Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—" "Chicago."

YOU BITCH HAHAHAHA

ok and then this is the part where i stopped writing down my reactions and thoughts because i got sucked soooo hard into the story and the progression. i love y/n in this story-- i love how you make her so earnest. and the fight over ramen. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn't for you." was a punch to the gut. and then the swift transition into grocery shopping, like even after the fight, the next scene is still so full of love.

the parking lot scene was cute and it felt good, it didn't feel like a hamfisted reconciliation just for the purpose of having all the loose ends pull together. it felt real and it felt like something teetering on the edge of a happy ending, which in the end is a lot more real than "and then we kissed and everything was fine"

also loved wonwoo being a little loser through this whole fic, i loved seeing him, and also i loved shua being insane and annoying, and seungkwan being the best.

anyways. what can i say that hasn't been said before? lily, you're such a good writer. like truly. like you're too good for fanfiction, let alone tumblr fanfiction. you could write professionally if you wanted to. how do you do it!???? the characterizations, the perfect impeccable humor and prose that rolls off the tongue, the pacing and structuring of the whole fic, the way the first half is a perfect slow burn, the way there's soooooo much romcom energy infused in every crevice of this fic...... like. i wish i could write like you do. i'm going to be revisiting this fic over and over again.

title: eat. play. love.

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 19.4k

summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.

Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.

None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"

At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.

"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"

Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.

"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."

"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."

You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.

It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.

There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"

"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.

URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.

As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.

I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.

It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.

"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.

Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.

"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."

How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.

"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."

You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.

Looking forward to talking with the two of you.

Wait—two?

Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.

CC: Choi Seungcheol.

"Choi Seungcheol?!"

Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.

Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.

"I—he," you stammer.

Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.

"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."

You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.

"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."

Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.

"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"

You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.

"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."

Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.

The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.

It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.

"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."

The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.

Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.

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The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.

Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.

"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.

You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)

For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."

You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.

He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.

"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."

At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.

"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."

He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.

"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."

That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.

Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.

"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."

"They don't have a kids menu, you know."

"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.

"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"

You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.

Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.

"You know what?"

His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.

"What?"

"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."

The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.

"I'd rather starve."

"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."

you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.

He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.

Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.

The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.

He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.

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"You'll never guess what I have."

"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.

Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."

"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"

"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"

"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"

"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."

He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.

"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."

"And a seat at Momofuku."

"And that."

You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.

There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.

"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."

"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.

"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."

You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.

And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.

You hide behind your computer screen.

"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"

"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."

You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.

It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.

Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.

"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.

Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.

But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).

No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.

Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?

The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.

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Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.

Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.

And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.

The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).

Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.

Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."

Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.

"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.

The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.

This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.

Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.

You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.

In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.

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Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.

You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.

That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.

This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.

You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.

That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.

"Seungcheol?"

He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.

"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."

Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.

"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.

"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."

"Who said I was pretending?"

No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.

Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)

"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."

"I never said that."

You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.

The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.

"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."

Touché, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?

"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.

"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."

"What do you think we're doing right now?"

"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.

"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.

"No, you do not get to make this about me."

Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.

How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.

"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"

"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.

"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."

Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.

"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."

"I'm no quitter."

Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.

Definitely not that one.

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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."

"Why, so you can steal my job?"

"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."

You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.

You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.

"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.

"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"

You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.

"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."

In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.

"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."

He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.

"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."

He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.

"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."

"So you're admitting this is a date?"

"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."

"Well, pity looks good on you."

And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."

"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."

Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.

"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."

"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."

Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.

You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.

"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."

You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).

You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.

You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.

"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."

It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.

"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.

"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"

"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"

You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.

"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"

If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.

"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."

"Running away?"

"Bored," you lie.

He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.

"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.

"Unfortunate."

"How do you think I feel?"

The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.

It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.

"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."

"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."

Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.

"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"

You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.

"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."

And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.

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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."

It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."

"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."

"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."

"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"

"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."

Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.

"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.

You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.

"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.

"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"

"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."

"Field trip?"

Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.

"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."

Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.

"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"

"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."

Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.

You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.

"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."

Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.

"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."

"N-not both ways?" you croak.

"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."

"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."

Whatever.

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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.

Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.

You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.

For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.

"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.

"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.

Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.

"But, thank you."

"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."

The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.

"I'm retracting my thank you."

"I'm devastated. Really."

You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.

It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.

"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"

The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.

"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."

"Yeah, but why?"

Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.

"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."

Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.

"Come on, he can't like her that much."

"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."

"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."

You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.

"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."

Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.

"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."

"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one did. I'm just being honest."

You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.

"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."

"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.

You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.

But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.

Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.

"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."

"I wouldn't say nothing."

He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.

Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.

Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.

"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"

You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.

Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.

These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.

"You in a rush?"

"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."

"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."

That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.

"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.

"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."

You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.

Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.

"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.

It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.

You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.

"Stop that."

"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"

A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.

"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."

"Is it working?"

You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.

"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."

"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."

There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.

However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.

"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"

This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.

For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.

Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.

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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.

"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."

Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.

"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.

"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.

"At least I'm not a slave to my career."

"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.

"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"

"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.

"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"

"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."

You almost choke on a blueberry.

"Absolutely not."

You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.

The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.

"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"

And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.

You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.

Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.

You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.

You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).

Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.

"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.

"I'm running out of options."

"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"

You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).

Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.

"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."

Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.

You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.

The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.

The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.

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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.

Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.

That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.

You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.

He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.

"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"

"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.

"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.

"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."

"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."

"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."

"Lucky you."

The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.

Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.

You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.

The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).

It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.

Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.

"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."

"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.

Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.

It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.

"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."

You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.

"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.

A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.

The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.

You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.

You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.

You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.

Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.

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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.

It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.

The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.

In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.

So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.

All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.

Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.

The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.

The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.

Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.

Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.

"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.

You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.

You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.

She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.

Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.

The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.

To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.

One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.

You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.

No, you're definitely going to cry.

Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.

"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"

You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.

"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."

You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.

But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.

Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.

Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.

You count the seconds till he walks away.

One. Two. Three.

Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.

"Hey, you ok?"

Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.

And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.

You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.

"Whoa," he breathes.

Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.

"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.

You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.

Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.

Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.

You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.

Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.

"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."

You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.

The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.

"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.

Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.

All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.

Just him, and you decide you like this version best.

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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.

There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.

A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.

Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.

Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.

You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.

And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.

You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).

And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)

Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.

8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.

Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.

You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.

You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.

But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.

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"Here. Drink."

You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.

But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.

Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.

"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.

"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."

"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.

Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.

You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.

"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."

"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."

Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.

"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."

Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.

"Thanks…?"

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."

"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"

"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."

"You're literally the definition of easy."

"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."

"This is not a date. Dream on."

"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."

"It wasn't."

"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"

"Chicago."

"Same difference."

Your conversation continues as such.

Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?

You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.

You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.

You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)

After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.

It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.

First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.

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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.

He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.

"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.

"Hi."

The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.

And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.

The elevator dings.

Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.

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You have three reasons to get drunk.

1. It's Friday.

2. You finished your article.

3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.

(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)

After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.

You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.

So you get drunk.

Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.

"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"

"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.

"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"

"You got that right."

Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.

"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.

"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"

"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.

"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.

The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?

Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.

"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."

"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."

"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.

You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.

How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!

You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.

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It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.

You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.

"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."

"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."

Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.

"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.

"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."

It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.

"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."

"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"

"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"

He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.

"Just dates. Nothing serious."

You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.

"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."

You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.

"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."

"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."

"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."

"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.

Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.

The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.

You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.

You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.

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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.

You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.

"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.

"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."

"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.

"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."

"Or if they're trying to poison you."

"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.

"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."

You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.

"Holy shit. You live like this?"

"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"

"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.

At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.

You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.

"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.

You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.

"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."

"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."

Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."

you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.

There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.

It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.

"What, too many dates to cover?"

He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."

Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.

"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."

"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."

His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.

You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.

"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."

The table stops rocking.

"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.

Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."

"You asked."

"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."

After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.

"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"

"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."

There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."

"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"

There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.

"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Wh—"

he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.

"Get. Out."

It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.

"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."

it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.

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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.

If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.

That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.

Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.

You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.

Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.

You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.

He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.

It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.

You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.

The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.

You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?

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Monday feels tilted.

There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.

You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.

"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.

He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.

You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.

"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.

Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.

Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.

All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.

You wonder what you'll be:

10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.

It's Not You, It's Them!

Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!

At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.

The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.

(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)

You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.

(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)

There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.

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Ask Samuel!

It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.

You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.

That's the only way he's beating you.

(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).

One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.

"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.

"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.

"Congrats."

"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.

"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."

For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.

"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."

"No need."

"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"

"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."

"What?!"

There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.

"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."

The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.

"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.

All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.

Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━��━━━━━

To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.

When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.

You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.

You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.

And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.

He gave up.

None of this should matter to you.

You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.

It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.

His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.

"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."

That does the trick.

"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.

"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What does it matter to you? You got the position."

"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."

Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.

Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.

"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."

The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.

"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."

Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.

"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."

"H-how?"

"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."

There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.

"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.

"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."

You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.

"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.

"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."

"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."

"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."

Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.

"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."

Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.

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"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"

Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.

"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."

You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.

He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."

Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.

You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.

After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.

But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.

He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)

Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.

"Afternoon, boss."

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.

He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.

"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.

"Friendly reminder we're at work."

"Everyone's at lunch, genius."

He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.

"You are the worst."

"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."

"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."

"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."

There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.

If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.

You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).

Eat, Play, Love: A Guide.

Maybe you'd put it through. Maybe.

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#97.yn #97.recs #lily 🦔#getting this review out of the way before i start work on monday lol #editing tags 5 minutes post completion to say that this fic got my heart rate up

3K notes · View notes

jkstompers · 4 years ago

Text

passing notes | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: a year of crushing and jungkook’s finally asked you out on a proper date.

genre: classmates to lovers??!, established friendship, they go on a date <3, jk is so stressed out, !fancy restaurant warning!, jk is A GENTLEMAN!! but wbk, oc is a nerd but is BOLD AF!!

warnings: mature!! (18+!!), SMUT,...they make out, LOTS of built up tension is let out tonite!, fingering, praise kink, handjob, backseat action, semi-public sex?? very strong language, jk overuses the nickname ‘baby’

word count: 9k

author’s note: pt. 3 of seatmate!jk. WE’VE GOT SOME FILTH TODAY PPL!!!!!!! this is my first time releasing a piece of writing that has smut in it so pls!! let me know what u think!!! i’m open to criticism but i cry easily so… pls pls be nice (Ｔ▽Ｔ) LMAO!! i also completely made up the program for ocean scientists that oc talks about LMAO i just needed her to ramble for a bit hahahah

additional note: also pls imagine jungkook looking like this in class and then wearing this for their date. also if ur curious, this is what i imagined oc’s dress to look like :)

okay enjoy!! thank u ( ˘ ³˘)

it was the end of the semester and of course, the only time jungkook would be running late to class was when he was finally going to ask you out on a date. so far, everything seems to be going against the idea. his alarm didn’t go off on time, the shower took way too long to warm up, and his car was low on gas. now he’s speed walking, almost running, to lecture to make sure that his seat next to you isn’t taken.

he wants to make sure this goes perfectly. he spent the past two weeks stressing over the plans. asking for recommendations for nice restaurants in the city in almost every group chat he was in. his friend (the one with parents as ceo’s, eunwoo), helped him and got him a reservation at this one five star restaurant that jungkook’s never been to. eunwoo told him that it was the prettiest place he’s ever been to, said it would be perfect for a first date.

jungkook specifically remembers you telling him that you’ve never gone on an actual dinner date. ice cream dates, movie theater dates, and amusement park dates were what you were used to. there was nothing wrong with that, it’s just that you’ve never experienced a candlelit dinner at a restaurant, that’s it. jungkook just wanted to be the first one to experience it with you.

so when his morning starts off this shitty, he wonders if his plans are falling apart. he tries to keep a good, positive mindset, but he’s already so nervous and the universe seems to be telling him: don’t do it, she’ll reject you, you’re gonna look stupid in front of her.

meanwhile, you’re early this lecture. it was the last class of the semester and you were hoping that you could get a nice conversation with jungkook in before it started. the two of you have gotten a lot closer since you last hung out. the chain of events starting with you apologizing for being so embarrassing,

[12:44 pm] you: jungkook!!! oh my god i am so sorry for last night 😭

[12:45 pm] you: i don’t take alcohol very well 😖

[12:50 pm] jungkook: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

[12:50 pm] jungkook: no need to apologize! are u feeling sick? hungover?

[12:52 pm] you: omg no not really

[12:52 pm] you: ur a great drinking buddy, i owe u one 🥺

[12:53 pm] jungkook: it’s alright cutie

[12:54 pm] jungkook: just happy ur feeling okay :)

[12:56 pm] you: let me make it up to u 😭 i’ll buy us lunch one of these days?

[12:57 pm] jungkook: ah no can do cutie

[12:57 pm] jungkook: have to buy u dinner first

the thought of the conversation makes you smile. that one conversation starting the domino effect of the two of you talking almost everyday for the past two weeks. you couldn’t help but expect jungkook to at least be here, but if he didn’t wanna come, then he didn’t have to.

you sat in your seat, patiently waiting for the one next to you to be filled by him. the hall was starting to fill now and class was about to start. you look around one last time to see that jungkook is still nowhere to be seen, and that a familiar brown-haired guy was beginning to walk up to you.

“hello, ___! is this seat taken?” taehyung smiles brightly, you look down at the seat next to you. your bag saving the spot for jungkook. maybe he skipped this lecture, since it was practically for nothing anyway, you’ve already taken the final and there was no other material to learn, it was more so to wrap things up and see if anyone still needed to understand something.

your brain comes to a conclusion. you remove your bag and say, “no, go ahead,” to taehyung with a small smile on your face, one that hides the disappointment riddling your mind.

it’s about five minutes after the professor starts talking when jungkook finally walks in. he looks up to try and find you as he walks up the steps of the auditorium. his eyes land on you and taehyung, chatting amongst yourselves. he can’t help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy, that’s his seat. even though there were no assigned seats, the place next to you was always his, that’s just how it was, and seeing someone else sitting there, especially taehyung, makes jungkook’s green monster pop out.

you feel a presence step behind you while you were talking to taehyung, and before you know it, jungkook is sitting in the seat next to taehyung. “oh! good morning, jungkook!” you’re smiling to him. he doesn’t grant you one of his regular vocal responses, rather he gives you a tight-lipped grin before he leans back into his chair and focuses on whatever the professor was saying.

maybe he was jealous. witnessing you and taehyung having a wonderful conversation, one that makes you smile and laugh like he does. you didn’t even notice him when he came up the stairs, only greeting him when he sat down. no, he was definitely jealous.

you’re stealing glances his way, pretending to be interested in whatever taehyung is talking about. he’s wearing the most boyfriend-est outfit in the world. a white long sleeve with grey sweatpants, his long hair tied up in a ponytail. you’re unconsciously biting your lip as you stare at him, he’s just so cool. he’s not even doing much other than looking straight forward. but this angle lets you see his sharp jawline and his side profile perfectly.

you felt bad, one hundred percent. you should have told taehyung that the seat was taken, because now he was talking your ear off and you didn’t mind it, but you wanted someone else to be talking your ear off and it was the guy sitting next to him.

when taehyung changes his focus to your professor talking about a summer he had in paris. you steal another glance at jungkook. you catch him staring at you, your eyes meet. he doesn’t keep the connection, cutting it off by moving his head and looking straight ahead. his jaw clenches, arms coming over and across his chest. he seems angry, you pick up on the energy now. an idea pops in your head to try and make him feel better. reaching into your bag to find one of your index cards, writing a message on it.

feeling okay?

you scoot your chair back a bit, pretending to stretch as you tap jungkook’s shoulder. he turns his head to you, eyebrows raised. you hand him the paper. he stares at first, eyes flickering between you and the paper. reluctantly, he takes it, unfolding his crossed arms to receive the note. you scoot back into your seat and lean into the table, lowering your chin onto the desk.

jungkook tries to hide his smile as he reads your little note. how could he ever stay mad at you? it wasn’t your fault he was late. so he replies, his black ink has a stark contrast against your green highlighter. he can already feel his bad mood brightening.

yeah, didn’t save me a seat? :(

this time he folds the note, handing it to taehyung and telling him to pass it to you. “really? you’re passing notes? we’re in college, jeon.” taehyung snickers as he slides the paper towards you.

you let a small laugh, reading the note. taehyung’s scolding continues as you write your response on the index card. you changed your green highlighter out with a blue pen.

i came super early :( waited 20 mins for u </3 but i didn’t think u were coming so i let taehyung sit here

you send it back and watch jungkook’s somewhat straight face contort into a smile. there it is, the smile that you know and love.

jungkook on the other hand could cry. you came early. you waited for him. god, had he royally fucked this up. he makes his mind up now.

i’m sorry :( let me make it up to u? can i take you out on a date tonight?

check: ◯ yes ◯ no

jungkook keeps the paper for a good minute, reading the note over and over again, thinking about how childish this way of asking is. but at the same time, jungkook knows that if he talks to you about it after class, he’ll gloss over the words and never ask you. letting the reservation and plans he made weeks ago render themselves useless. it was now or never.

so he fully sends it, tapping your shoulder and giving it to you directly. you open the note and scan the words, sending him the sweetest look he’s ever received in his life. he thinks that would be a yes. he hopes. you write something onto the card and pass it back to him, your hand grazing his for a second.

⚫ yes :) ♡ ◯ no

the rest of the class passes pretty quickly. not that you were paying any attention. jungkook had emailed you a link to a game that the two of you could play, a weird version of snakes. jungkook kept cheating, you swore it, but in all honesty, you knew you couldn’t compete when it came to jungkook and his computer games. a clap from the professor breaks your attention from your screen, “alright, that was the last class of anatomy 101!” he then goes on a two minute long speech thanking the entire class for their great work this past year. he ends his ment with, “good luck and make good decisions! have a fun summer!”

you take your time packing your things, a little too long for someone that just has a laptop to put into their bag. taehyung says goodbye to the both of you and leaves first, the seat in between you both empty. now it was just the two of you. a small blush creeps onto your cheeks. you were well past your high school crush phase, but jungkook makes you feel so shy again.

you try to hide it by speaking first, “so, a date?”

he sends you that award winning smile that makes you swoon. “yeah, did you change your mind?”

you shake your head. “is it casual? fancy? want me to wear a dress again?” you tease, finally pushing your computer into your bag and standing.

jungkook gulps. you looked so pretty that night in a dress. “fancy,” he answers, “you can wear a dress if you want, pantsuits are cool too— whatever you want.” he finishes packing as well, standing next to you as you both begin to walk down the stairs.

“okay then,” you smile. “what time should i be ready?”

“i’ll come and pick you up at seven, is that okay?” he replies, hand in his pockets. you both make your way out of the room and start to move towards the parking lot.

“sounds good,” you nod, approaching your car. jungkook walks you to your door, his eyes focused on your sweet smile and your eyes. if jungkook didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were leaning closer towards him. a small laugh leaves your throat. “see you later, kookie.”

he sends you a smile, the nickname tugging at his heartstrings. the realization hits him after you’ve already driven away and he’s sitting in the driver seat of his car. an embarrassing blush covers his face, he takes a deep breath and laughs to himself. finally. a year of crushing and he’s finally asked you on a proper date.

jungkook is quite frankly, freaking the fuck out. he isn’t sure what to wear and his hair isn’t working with him. the long strands seemingly out to make his life a living hell when he tries to style it. one strand always looks out of place, or the way that it parts doesn’t sit right. he’s pacing his bathroom, debating if he should just shower again and take all the stupid fucking product out of his hair.

he gives in after ten minutes of deliberation. a quick shower removing all the wax and gel from his hair. the ends of his hair dripping when he goes to check his phone, the time reading: 6:45. he was gonna be late to pick you up. now he’s full on panicking. he has no other choice then to skip the hair product all together and just let his hair dry and part on it’s own. he slides on his all black fancy outfit he had planned out just in case the first one didn’t work out. he steps out of his apartment after grabbing his car keys, wallet, and the flowers he bought earlier in the day for you.

a friend of his works in a flower shop. jungkook remembers you saying that you like all flowers and that you couldn’t choose if you had to. so his friend asked what you were like, trying to figure out a way to style the bouquet without knowing your favorites. jungkook said the general things; you’re sweet like an apple, probably sweeter, like candy. you’re so pretty, it’s blessing that he’s able to lay his eyes upon you. you’re smart, too smart for him to flirt stupidly like he always does, ‘cause you outsmart him and flirt with him back in a wittier way. you’re— that was enough information, his friend told him he was babbling again. jungkook only had to wait ten minutes for his friend to finish fixing up a beautiful bouquet for you.

the bouquet is placed on the passenger seat as he starts his car, texting you when he realizes it’s almost five minutes until 7.

[6:54 pm] jungkook: fuck

[6:54 pm] jungkook: i’m gonna be a little late

[6:55 pm] jungkook: i swear i’m not standing u up

[6:55 pm] jungkook: ok i’m putting my phone down to drive to u now, sorry cutie!!

[6:57 pm] you: ah okay!

[6:57 pm] you: i was getting a little worried haha

[6:58 pm] you: see u in a bit <3

jungkook drives safely, but efficiently to your apartment. the drive only taking about five minutes because the stop lights were gracing him with green lights his entire way to you. he parks right in front, grabbing the flowers and hopping out of the car. when he knocks on your door, he starts to feel his nerves work against him. the adrenaline from rushing here gave him enough energy to hype himself up, but now as he’s standing here at your door, waiting for you to answer, his throat starts to dry and his hands start to sweat.

the metal door slides open, revealing you. in your silk dress, draping over your body in the most flattering way. the neckline deliciously hangs down to reveal your cleavage ever so slightly and the slit on the dress, displaying your thigh teasingly. jungkook is speechless at his first glance at you. his eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open, catching himself drooling once you step out from your apartment.

“h— hi, you look— wow,” he stumbles over his words, taking a step back to admire you once again. “you’re fucking stunning.”

you brush your hair back behind your ear, your hand covering the blush covering your cheeks. “thank you, you look very handsome, jungkook.” you reach out and play with his black tie. he looks down when you do, remembering that he was holding a bouquet of flowers for you.

he holds them out, “these are for you.” like a kid giving his crush a dandelion he picked from the grass.

“these are gorgeous, jungkook! thank you.” you look up to him with your signature sweet eyes, the ones that never fail to make him melt. “just give me one sec, i’ll put these down and then we can go?” you ask, holding onto the bouquet and waiting for him to respond. a quick nod is all you need to open your door and place them in the fridge. you come out a few seconds later, locking your door and standing by jungkook again.

“that was fast,” he comments. he holds his arm out for you to hold, which you gratefully take.

“i just put them in the fridge, my grandma showed me the trick, it helps them live a little longer,” you explain. the two of you walking out to his parked car. he never lets your hand touch the handle, always opening the door for you.

“when they die, i’ll just buy you new ones.” closing the door for you and making his way to the drivers seat.

you scrunch your nose. when he comes back and joins you in the car, you voice your worry. “it’s kind of a waste, don’t you think?”

he shakes his head, “if it’s for you, nothing’s a waste.”

jungkook was a professional with his words. always rendering you speechless.

with that he starts the car and begins driving into the busier part of seoul. he makes his way into the restaurants parking garage, the building looks to be about five stories. the architecture itself looks expensive, you wonder where jungkook is taking you tonight. he parks the car, turning off the engine, and moving to open the door for you. he takes your hand and you hold onto your dress, fixing it once you get out of the car. god, you’re so pretty. he was so nervous.

“ready, my lady?” he smiles, his arm out for you to hold.

it makes you laugh, a snort almost. “i’ve never seen you so proper, mr. jeon.”

“only for you,” he winks. your heels click against the concrete floor as he leads the two of you into the building. the high ceilings and multiple chandeliers are what greet you first, the brightness of the place giving the sun something to rival. jungkook brings you over to the waiting area, telling you to wait for a minute as he checks you guys in.

this was crazy to say the least. the last time you went on a date, it was to the movie theaters. you’ve never been in a place like this; a doorman greeting every guest as they walk in, checking in to eat, multi-story, etc. the more you look around, the cooler it is. “let’s go?” jungkook’s voice makes you turn your head. you stand, taking his hand.

the two of you follow a man wearing a black and white suit, with a long tail jacket. he brings you to the elevators, holding the doors open for you both. you step in and he presses the fifth button, which was the top floor. you squeeze jungkook’s hand. he repeats the action, looking to you and silently asking if you were okay with the look in his eyes and the raise of his eyebrows. you nod, a smile on your face.

with that the elevator doors open, the metal doors sliding apart to reveal a private terrace. only a couple tables on the entire floor. a few people sitting down and enjoying their dinners. beautiful greenery surrounding the perimeter, the night sky only making it prettier. your mouth is left agape, you’re stuck in the elevator, speechless. jungkook gently tugs you forward, following the suit man to the table.

jungkook pulls your chair out for you. you could cry at the chivalry. you sit and he pushes the chair in, jungkook follows soon, sitting in the chair across from you. the man hands the two of you the menu and moves away from the table, standing back near to the elevator, waiting until you are both ready to order.

“this is fucking crazy,” you whisper-shout. the terrace was lit by these bright fairy lights that were hidden in the plants and were above the tables as well. it looked like little fairies and fire flies were in the air, roaming around.

“i know right!” jungkook looked as surprised as you were. “i asked my friends for some help and holy shit!”

“they know you’re on a date with me right now?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

to this he furrows his eyebrows, “of course they do, i talk about you all the time—”but he stops himself from exposing himself any further. you can’t help but giggle. “i mean, i asked them to help me make this special, and here we are.”

you swoon. he’s so sweet for planning all of this out and wanting to make you feel special. the two of you look through the menu, jungkook warns you not to look at the prices, telling you to get whatever you want because the price doesn’t matter. but of course, your eyes stray to the numbers, the meals costing a pretty penny for a simple spaghetti plate, the cheapest thing on there. you were craving pasta anyway, you didn’t mind. the two of you order and wait for the food to arrive.

the city of seoul was just below you, not too high but high enough to turn people into smaller figures of themselves. the night lights look gorgeous from up here. the warm summer night only complimenting the gorgeous atmosphere.

“the view is so pretty,” you gaze out into the city. the pretty colors from all the lights of the different stores and restaurants complementing each other so beautifully.

jungkook was in awe, he knows that the city below you is gorgeous, but he can’t seem to get his eyes off of you. your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyes search through the streets. “yeah…” he agrees, “very beautiful.” he smiles, only looking at you.

the food comes and you both dig in. the two of you enjoy some conversation with each other as you eat. the topic of growing up comes up, both of you explaining the occupations you wanted, and you said something that sparked curiosity in jungkook. “your childhood dream was to live in california?” he smiles, chewing on his steak. most of the time kids dream about going to the moon or finding atlantis, but you wanted to go to america?

you nod, “sounds funny right? when i was a teen, i watched a lot of 90210.”

“is that all though? you only wanted to go because of a tv show?” he asks. there’s something you’re hiding, and jungkook can see it in the way that you hide your smile.

at first, you hesitate, but you open your mouth to speak, “well— there is— no, it’s embarrassing.” you shake your head, changing your mind and reverting your eyes down. staring at the plate of pasta in front of you. guys you talked to didn’t wanna hear about it, they thought what you were into was boring, embarrassing almost. a part of you feared that jungkook would feel the same.

you feel his hand on your chin, tilting your head up. “i wanna hear about it.” his face telling you the truth, the sincerity in his eyes as he patiently waits for you to explain.

“there’s this science program in california, they explore new ideas for researching the ocean, like trying to see what lurks in the deep blue, helping fix the rising oceans, everything-- oh my god, and they like go on field trips to different countries to see the coastlines and historical sites—” you cut yourself off when you realize that you’re talking at the speed of light. “i’m rambling.” you were terrified to see his reaction.

but when your eyes finally meet jungkook’s, they’re full of light. and his smile is so big. “dude, that’s so dope!” he grins, “i didn’t know you were so into the ocean!”

it was the bare minimum, being nice, but that was hard to find when it came to the majority of the male species. obviously, jungkook is above average, he only proves that the more time you spend with him.

“oh, i love it! my parents would bring me to the beach and i would cry every time we would have to leave, aquariums too, and the fish section in the pet stores.” you gush, leaning into the table to tell jungkook more. he leans into his hand, resting his cheek against his fist as he listens to you spill your knowledge and love.

he notes that the next date should be at the beach or an aquarium. it was a great time for him to learn this, especially since it was summer. the weather in favor of the cold ocean waves. jungkook swears he can listen to you talk until the end of time. your sweet voice can be the narration to his life, he’d never get sick of it.

the food on both of your plates had been cleared, the conversation sizzling into a comfortable silence before the man came back to give you the bill. jungkook doesn’t let you see it, instead just sticking his card in the black folder thing, and giving it back to the fancy suit man. it wasn’t long before he came back, handing jungkook back his card and giving the both of you a lollipop with gold flakes encased inside.

you gasp at the piece of candy, now that was ridiculous. you weren’t one to reject a lollipop though, gratefully taking the candy and popping it into your mouth. jungkook does the same. it tastes of blueberry. at this point he stands up, moving in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “let’s look around? i heard they have a cool museum on the second floor.”

you take his hand, “i love museums!” the two of you make your way to the elevator, the man (he never told you his name) kept the door open for you both. he presses the second floor button when jungkook asks him for the museum. the elevator landing on the second floor, the doors slide open to show a completely empty art hall. this place shocking you every chance it gets. you didn’t think it could get better, but it did.

when the two of you exit the elevator, the man leaves you to it, taking the elevator down and leaving you alone. your eyes scan the place, huge paintings on the walls, small paintings in collages, some sculptures on the floor, it felt like a pop-up museum. you both make your way down the enormous hallway, both sides of the room’s wall displaying works of art. you stop at one specific painting, the familiar work has you spewing random facts. “these are the lovers! i had to analyze this once,” you speak. the art displaying a couple kissing, both of their heads covered by a white sheet. “the real one is in australia, i think.” you laugh, tapping the lollipop against your lips.

jungkook listens intently, but he doesn’t pay attention to the painting on the wall. everytime he does, his eyes always revert to you. the art doesn’t stand a chance against you in his book. you, yourself, were a piece of art, one that was rare in this world, one of a kind.

he can’t seem to resist. taking your hand and raising it over your head, the way that they do in ballroom dancing. if a twirl was what he wanted, then so he got it. “beautiful,” he compliments, pulling you in close for a hug. the two of you swaying in the middle of the hall of this stupidly expensive restaurant.

you look up to him, making full eye contact as the two of you lean on one foot to the other. probably looking like a lovesick couple, getting lost in the moment. which, you were. your eyes flicker from his eyes down to his lips, he seems to do the same thing. his hand moves to caress your face, the swaying ceased. now the two of you are centimeters apart, noses brushing against each other. if jungkook doesn’t kiss you now, he thinks he’ll combust. so when he feels you pushing forward, he does the same, meeting you in the middle. your lips connect. the kiss almost identical to the painting in front of you.

jungkook swears he felt himself levitating. your lips are sweet, the blueberry flavor of the lollipop lingering on them. he’s had his fair share of kisses in his life. makeouts, pecks, cheek kisses, all types of kisses. but something about this one tells him that he’s in for it. he’ll never be able to get enough now that he’s gotten a taste.

neither of you want to take it too far; swallowing each other's faces in a distinguished, five star restaurant’s museum didn’t seem very proper. so the two of you make your way out of the building, thanking everyone at the front desk, especially the man that helped you out today, and walking into the parking garage where jungkook’s car was.

when you get to his car, he moves to open the passenger door for you but you stop him with a hand on his arm. you reach to open the back door handle and his eyes almost bulge out. everyone knows what happens in the backseat, and jungkook did not prepare himself for something like this.

you look up at him with the most innocent eyes, but there’s something devious hidden in your smile when you ask, “do you wanna talk for a bit longer? in the backseat? it’s more comfortable than sitting in the front.”

jungkook never took you for someone this bold. it’s either you didn’t know the meaning of the backseat (which was totally fine) or you knew very well, and had plans to devour jungkook (which was also totally fine).

he chickens out, his hands starting to sweat. “do you want to just go for a little walk or something?” it’s not like jungkook didn’t want anything to happen, it’s that he did. if he starts, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from it. he walks a tightrope around you when it comes to his self control. one wrong move, and he’s terrified that he’ll fuck everything up.

“oh, it’s just my feet kinda hurt from these heels.” you pout, lifting you foot up to show him the almost stiletto heel.

his eyes widen. why didn’t he think of that? “oh— oh shit, i didn’t even— yeah, let’s sit.” he tugs on the door, letting you slide into the back seat. he follows, leaving a good amount of space between you both to make sure that there was nothing too suspicious going on. you hope your bold moves hide your nervousness, despite your confidence, jungkook’s unsure looks make you want to curl up into a ball. did he not want this?

the air was different now. in the restaurant the two of you had been so carefree, slow dancing in the museum, and landing a sweet kiss on each other’s lips. but now, an uncomfortable silence tears at the two of you. your hesitance makes you speak, trying to see if a conversation would ease the tension in the air. “i had a lot of fun tonight, kookie, thank you.”

it seems to comfort jungkook, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. with a small smile on his face he replies, “me too, i was really nervous you wouldn’t like the food.”

“oh it was good! i’ll eat anything really, it’s just—“

“you didn’t like the place? was it too much—“

“no, jungkook, oh my god— i loved it, it was just really expensive, i still feel really bad about you paying for all of it,” you look to him seriously. “let me give you at least my half?”

he shakes his head, “i asked you out on this date, it means i pay, don’t worry about the price.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “big spender huh?”

a pretty laugh escapes his lips. “hard worker too.”

to this you smile, you stare at his impossibly-perfect face, noticing a stray eyelash on his cheek. you see a chance to strike and you take it immediately. you lean forward to swipe it off. jungkook almost leans into your touch. he’s so terrified that he’ll embarrass himself right now, so he’s been holding back tremendously. but the way you pick the eyelash off and place it on your thumb with a smile on your face, it eases most of the tension in his chest.

“make a wish!” you hold your thumb up to his lips. his eyes cross to look at the piece of hair on your finger, but nevertheless he obliged. shutting his eyes tight, making a wish, and blowing the eyelash off of your thumb.

you let out a small cheer before you ask him, “what’d you wish for?”

“if i told you then my wish wouldn’t come true, right?” he boops your nose. suddenly, jungkook doesn’t feel so nervous. his nerves calming at the feeling of your soft hands against his face. you make him so nervous, but at the same time you make him so comfortable and make him want to be himself. it seems as though the two of you were staring at each other for a while. jungkook was thinking about how much he likes you, the same ideas run through your mind. the thoughts make you wish for something more.

“can i kiss you again, kookie?”

he stares at you, weighing his options. if he kisses you now, then he has to strategically only give you a few kisses, he absolutely cannot make out with you, or else, jungkook will succumb to his desires.

but he takes a little too long to respond. the both of you overthinking the fuck out of the situation. it makes you draw back. “it’s okay if you don’t want—“

“no, no, please, kiss me,” he brings you back, moving closer to you. licking his lips in anticipation as you slowly push forward, closing the gap between you both. the kiss is so sweet, like the one in the museum. jungkook can still taste the blueberry lingering on your lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing you.

you pull away first. your eyes scanning his face to see any expression of regret. there’s none. his hand moves to the side of your face, caressing your face and bringing you to him once again to meet your lips. he can’t get enough. “tell me what you wished for, please,” you speak against his lips.

he smiles into the kiss. he wasn’t going to tell you, but since you were asking so nicely, he gives you a kiss on the cheek when he answers, “i wished for a second date.”

“oh, didn’t you know?” you kiss both of his cheeks before speaking again, “i grant wishes,” with wink.

“fuck, you’re so cute,” he thinks out loud, it makes you blush. pink cheeks out for show and jungkook thinks you look even cuter. he dives in for one more kiss, telling himself this will be the last one, but when you make sweet noises against his lips, it has him wanting more. hands moving down to your waist, pulling you in and letting you climb onto his lap. he pulls away first, trying to get a hold of himself. “i uh— actually, didn’t plan for this to happen,“ he mumbles against your skin, tripping over his words.

you look down, arms wrapped around his neck. “hm? what did you plan?”

“we were supposed to kiss on the next date i take you on and i didn’t think— we’re just ahead of schedule, that’s all.” jungkook tries to explain that he didn’t want to rush it, god no. he wanted to take his time, make sure that you didn’t feel pressured to do anything. but now, it seems like you’re taking the wheel and jungkook doesn’t mind it one bit.

“oh so you had like a real plan? like times and everything?” the thought of it makes you laugh, and the way that jungkook flushes makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

he pouts when you giggle, “don’t laugh, i just really, really wanted to do it right, you’re just so amazing and i didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

you smile at his concern. the fact that you have the uni heartthrob planning dates in his head down to the details and wanting to be sure he does it right makes your head spin. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the way that your heart is beating three times the normal rate when you go to kiss him again. the only sounds in the car are labored breaths and your lips smacking together. it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into him. his growing bulge rubbing against your soaking core. a groan leaving him when you grind particularly harder, his hands moving to your ass to grip it. you melt in his arms, small whimpers leaving your throat as jungkook drinks them up

you pull away from his lips, giving his cheeks attention then leaving a trail of kisses as you make your way to his ear. one final kiss is planted below his earlobe before you whisper, “am i ruining your plans, kookie?”

jungkook tries his best to conceal his groan, tries his best to ignore his incredibly hard dick in his jeans, but you’re so pretty and you’re on top of him, kissing him. it feels like a dream to jungkook. it is quite literally a dream come true.

he was already playing with fire, your body a flame in the cold, he moves closer and closer until he burns. “fuck plans,” he breathes. a hand comes back to caress your face once again. filthy thoughts flooding his brain. he wonders what being in between your legs is like, what you sound like when you cum. he wants to make you cry and beg for his cock. but he holds himself back, knowing that you’ll have time to try everything out, if you wanted of course. he leans the both of you forward, his large hands splayed on your back to secure you on his lap. your lips find each other once more. “can i touch you?” he asks so sweetly, a hidden poison weaving through that you can slightly hear through the deep rumble of his voice.

you’ve never wanted anything more. “please,” you nod. your lips chasing his when he pulls further away.

jungkook smiles at the action. “lay on my lap, baby.” he instructs, tapping your thigh. the nickname rolling off his tongue, his voice seemingly dropping an entire octave. you raise your leg and move it over to sit on his lap, sideways. your back against the car door and his right hand rubbing your thighs ever so gently.

“like this?” you ask, looking to him for reassurance. he looks to you with eyes that you’ve never seen, lusted and dark.

“mhm, perfect,” he nods. “good girl.” the praise goes straight to your belly, your panties flooding from how much you want him. his hands move slowly down your inner thighs as he goes in to kiss you again.

you’re absentmindedly spreading your legs, making room for him. he smirks against your lips when he realizes. he knows what you want, so his fingers move to your panties, lightly putting pressure over your clothed bud. you whimper at the feeling, biting his lip in the process. he moans in response, putting a little more pressure against your bundle of nerves.

“jungkook,” you whine, pulling away from his lips, “please.”

“please what, baby?” he kisses your cheek, “tell me what you want.”

“please touch me, please.” you beg, making eye contact with him. jungkook’s dick twitches at the sound of your begging. he wanted to string you along a little longer, but you’re being so good.

“since you asked so nicely, baby,” he obliges. bunching your dress up around your waist and noticing the pretty black lace underwear you were wearing, “for me?” he asks. you nod, your teeth taking in your bottom lip. he groans at the thought, you getting ready and picking out these cute, risque panties out just for him. it’s just too bad they’re gonna be on the floor on his car. he’s gonna need to ask for a rain check on admiring you and your cute underwear later.

you lift your hips to help him, underwear coming off to reveal your soaking pussy. “oh, fuck,” jungkook murmurs at the sight of it. “you’re so wet baby.” he almost starts drooling, he can’t wait to taste you, but he’s still hesitant, only wanting to do what you want to. next time, he can eat you out. right now, he’ll admire the delicious sight and make you cum on his fingers.

your eyes travel to the window directly in front of you, suddenly feeling insecure. thighs closing, thinking about how someone could look in and see. “what about the windows—“

“they’re tinted, no one can see from the outside in, i promise.” he reassures, giving you another sweet kiss on the cheek before asking, “do you still want to do this? we can stop now.” he’s so lovely, his concern and change in demeanor only making you want it more, knowing that he wouldn’t want to push you to do something you were uncomfortable with. sweet was sexy on jungkook. you never thought there would be a day that jeon jungkook fingers you in a parking lot of a five star restaurant, but here you are. and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

so you shake your head, taking his hand, and placing it back in between your legs. “please.”

“anything for you.” he whispers in your ear before running his middle finger up your slit, collecting your wetness, and spreading it around your clit. he continues making tight circles on your clit, the sensation drives you crazy. you lean your head back against the window, moaning out. it was almost humiliating how reactive you were, you hadn’t indulged in this kind of intimacy in a while, almost a year to be specific.

it wasn’t helping that jungkook was a fucking pro. the right amount of pressure and the placement of his digits against you has you dripping onto his nice, dress pants. you hoped nobody else was in the parking garage, else they would hear your cries of jungkook’s name. “more, kookie, more— fuck.”

“more baby?” he questions, the sound of your moans going straight to his already hard dick. he thinks he could cum just to the sound of your voice. he’s one hundred percent fucked when it comes to you. he dips his middle finger into your hole, you gasp in reaction. “like that? hmm? ”

jungkook knew was he was doing, he had you spread wide in the backseat of his car, already on the verge on an orgasm. he had a few years of experience on his belt, a ‘retired fuck boy’ he was, but he’s never wanted to please somebody more than he does right now with you. you just looked so pretty like this, so eager and begging for more.

he adds his ring finger now, his thumb against your clit. “oh, god—“ you mutter, the feeling of his fingers and his thumb on your clit is too good. his fingers fucking you better than anyone else’s dick ever has. you found yourself bucking your hips against his fingers. “kookie, kiss me, please,” you look up to him with the eyes he can never fucking deny. so he kisses you, drinking up your moans as you fuck yourself up onto his fingers.

“i didn’t know you were such a dirty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. your walls clenching around him, “letting me touch you like this in the backseat of my car?” his usual sweet demeanor now contorting into this cocky guy with an ego. it makes you even wetter. the squelch of your pussy every time his fingers push in is loud, the sound is music to jungkook’s ears.

“only— only for you, jungkook,” you whimper. you feel a familiar knot in your stomach tighten. he looked so hot like this. eager to please. his bottom lip caught in his teeth and a strand of his long hair dangling in front of his eyes.

“good girl, all mine,” he kisses your neck. it may seem just like something you say during sex, but jungkook wanted it to be true. wanted you and only you. all to himself. he makes his way to a sweet spot, the feeling makes you tilt your head, giving him more access to kiss and suck along the sensitive skin. the discomfort of your back against the hard door was the last of your worries. your orgasm creeping closer and closer, juices leaking all overs his fingers. “so wet baby,” he growls, “i know i could just slide in, fuck you so good.”

“p-please, i want it.” the thought of jungkook fucking you senseless, oh, you’d go crazy. begging wasn’t something you did when it came to sex, most of the time it was quiet, moans and breaths were the only things that you’d hear, no dirty words or praises. it was a good change, you never thought that you’d be so into being talked through it.

he smiles at your eagerness, “patience baby, gotta take you on another date, yeah?” kissing your pursed lips. always so sweet and lovely.

you feel his fingers push a little deeper, curling to find that sweet spot inside of you. your reaction does something to him, makes him hit the exact same spot, over and over again, in a slow, torturous beat just so he can draw those delicious gasps and moans out of you. jungkook feels close. he’s never felt like this before, so wound up. he ignores it, pushing it to the back of his head to focus on helping you reach your climax.

lucky for jungkook, he didn’t have to wait very long. his fingers were longer and a thicker than yours, his efforts making you get there faster than you ever could. the consistent deep strokes of his fingers make the warning signals go off in your head. you speak a verbal warning before, “fuck, i’m gonna cum,” your voice pitches a little higher than usual.

“gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” he gives you one last sloppy kiss before you’re moaning out and coming onto his fingers, eyes screwed shut as your walls convulse rapidly as his fingers fuck you through your orgasm. “fuck, you’re so hot, ___.”

you feel a smile break on your face. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you wink, still trying to catch your breath. a laugh slips from his mouth, small smirk on his mouth to match. he slips his fingers out, your body twitching at the over stimulation.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. inspecting his fingers, your pale almost-white cum coating the digits. he brings them to his mouth, sucking on your sweet sap. you’ve never seen anything hotter in your life. “sweet, just like you,” he smirks. you shrink in his stare, hiding your blush. like you totally didn’t just cum on his fingers.

you’re distracted by the feeling of something hard resting under your thigh, it’s then that you realize, “what about—“ you start but jungkook cuts you off quick.

“no, no, it’s okay, it’ll go away soon.” he shakes his head, but you furrow your eyebrows.

you pull on his black tie, making him lean forward and make eye contact with you “can i?” you ask, so sweetly.

he stares at you with the most sexed eyes you’ve ever witnessed. “you’re driving me crazy.”

“you’re always so sweet to me, jungkook,” you kiss his cheek. readjusting yourself in his lap, straddling him once more. “took me on this amazing dinner, always treating me like a princess.” your lips travel down from his cheeks to his jawline, then to his neck. he shudders at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. your hands move from around his neck to travel further down, to the latch of his belt. his breath hitches. “let me return the favor, kookie.”

“i—“ he laughs, the embarrassment evident in the pink tint on his face. “i won’t last very long.”

you didn’t mind, just assuring him with a sweet kiss on the cheek before you start removing his belt. jungkook leans his head back on the headrest, his neck exposed for you to kiss and suck. you unbutton and unzip, pulling his pants and his boxers down at the same time. his size makes your eyes bulge. he was huge. your mouth waters at the sight.

“you’re so big, kook.” you egg him on, fueling his ego because he just looked so hot. your hand moves to hold him at the base, he lets out a shaky breath when your soft skin meets his. jungkook’s head is in the clouds, he could cum right now if he let go, but he’s holds himself back, not wanting to look like a fool in front of you. your hand moves up his dick, your thumb collecting the precum dripping from his hole, your thumb running over his slit as he groans.

his hips buck up, “shit, baby.” he just sounds so good. you could just lick him up. you collect some saliva in your mouth, letting it drip from your mouth onto his dick to lube your hand. he groans at the sight, “you’re so filthy, baby, holy shit.”

you smirk at the admission, the spit making it so easy for your hand to glide against his cock. the feeling makes him throw his head back again. his chest rising and falling. the picture of him with his eyes screwed shut in pleasure and his mouth agape makes your lower belly light up once more, you clench around nothing. leaning in as you pump his cock to whisper in his ear, “wanna fuck me so bad? have me crying on your cock? you want that, don’t you, kookie?”

jungkook twitches at your words. that’s exactly what he wants. was he that easy to read? was that what you wanted too? the thought of it makes him want to explode, “oh— god, ffuck— fuck,” he sputters. his hand coming up to hover above his head, your hand still pumping as the spurts of his cum shoot out. you smile at the action, knowing he didn’t wanna fuck up your dress. instead just making a mess of him and his hand. he takes deep breaths before speaking, “there’s a little box of tissues in the center console, could you hand it to me, baby?”

you lean back, opening the console and reaching for the small box that sits in the center. before you give it to him, your eyes flicker to the sticky mess all over jungkook’s hand and groin. a sudden urge to lick takes you over, holding jungkook’s hand and bringing it up to your mouth. you lick the dripping cum from the palm of his hand as he watches, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

jungkook shivers, a smile creeping on his face, “you— you’re evil.” the remark makes you laugh.

“sorry, just wanted to help clean up.” you smile, swallowing the cum you collected on your tongue.

“yeah, yeah, you’re not the sweet girl i thought you were,” jungkook quirks a brow.

you roll your eyes playfully, “you don’t like it?”

“nope, i love it, you’re perfect.” jungkook wipes off the remaining mess from his lap and his hand. you help him clean up tissues and he picks up your panties that were discarded on the floor. the two of you fix yourselves before stepping out of the back seat, jungkook opens the passenger door for you before he goes to a trashcan and throws away the soiled tissues.

he joins you back in the car, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. you were rambling about how happy you were that no one was around and how there were no security cameras in the parking garage. jungkook blabbers too, telling you about how embarrassed he is that he barely lasted a few minutes. before the two of you knew it, his car parked in front of your apartment complex.

he stands outside of your front door, leaning against the doorframe. all dreamy and not like he just made you cum in the backseat of his car. “text me before you sleep?” he smiles.

you nod, “of course,” reflecting the same smile. you wave before closing your door. the date being more than you ever expected. there was no way jungkook was real. he had to be a figment of your imagination, he was the absolute dream guy.

you lay in bed, staring at the stars on your ceiling. a blush creeping up to your cheeks once more when you think about the events that took place tonight.

[11:02 pm] you: thank you for tonight, jungkook

[11:02 pm] you: it was magical <3

[11:03 pm] jungkook: no problem cutie, i had an amazing time with you

[11:04 pm] jungkook: feeling okay?

[11:06 pm] you: i’m great!!! more than okay

[11:07 pm] jungkook: 😂

[11:07 pm] jungkook: i’m glad cutie

[11:08 pm] you: lunch on me next time? now that you’ve taken me for dinner :)

[11:08 pm] jungkook: sure, i’m down :)

[11:09 pm] you: i’m rlly tired kookie

[11:10 pm] you: gonna head to sleep now

[11:10 pm] jungkook: alright cutie

[11:11 pm] jungkook: sweet dreams!

｡ﾟ(ﾟ^Ｏ^ﾟ)ﾟ｡ tag list: @giadalin @ggukkieland

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suganovakawa · 5 years ago

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Hello I wanna say that I love ur work 🥺 I’m new to the haikyuu fandom and ur work gives me life! Can I request a HC with Tanaka, Daichi, Suga & asahi and how they would react when they see other teams at a tournament flirt with you and how they act when they’re jealous? Thank you !

absolutely omg i love my karasuno babies and them being jEALOUS??? this is my calling goodBYE

btw btw welcome to the hq fandom bby !! enjoy your stay here 🥺💞💘💓

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅 !

karasuno boys fend off other teams as they try to flirt with you !

— check out my masterlist !!

these boys don’t take too kindly to other teams trying to flirt with you . . . and they’re not gonna deal with it for much longer ! >:)

a / n : jealous anything >>>> and you cannot change my mind because it’s my weakness k thx bye 🥰

— ask to be added to my taglist !!

taglist : @yams046 @janellion

ryuunosuke tanaka

lmao flirting w you is like asking for a death sentence i do not make the rules

tanaka is not afraid to show you off , nor is he afraid to show off your guys’ relationship at tournaments either

he has full trust in you dw , but that doesn’t mean he trusts the men that get a little too close for comfort

if his death glare alone doesn’t scare them off i feel so sorry for them

ryu will 100% call someone out if they’re obviously flirting with you

“ hey , punk ??? you’re trying to flirt with them , huh ??? gotta tell ya , you’re out of luck , go find someone else . this hot stuff right here is mine , thank you very much . ”

he gets so confused when you get embarrassed because what ??? he’s just telling them the truth

“ ryu ! you can’t just call me ‘ hot stuff ’ in the middle of the gym !! ”

“ why not , baby ? you are hot stuff ! they’re just bummed out you’re not theirs . ”

not to mention , 8 times out of 10 noya will probably be right there with tanaka scaring off the suitors

those two are literally your bodyguards , and once they know that someone else has their sights set on you , do not expect them to leave your side

also , he holds a FULL GRUDGE against ladies men type people

cough cough tooru i’m talking bout u bby

you are to stay a mile away from oikawa and all of aoba johsai at all times , ryu will not accept otherwise

oh , and terushima ??? YEAH HES NOT EVEN GONNA LAY EYES ON YOU ONCE LMAO

at least , not without tanaka’s arm wrapped around your waist

gotta make sure they understand you ain’t on the market

all in all a very protective baby crow , can and will fight anyone who tries flirting with you so pls don’t test him

daichi sawamura

daichi is definitely the silent but deadly type let me assure you

i don’t care where that man is , he’ll always have an eye on you regardless

oh and he’ll probably have the rest of his team have their eyes on you too ; just in case there is a small instance where he can’t keep his eyes on you

yuu , ryu , and shoyo will be paying the most attention to you when the captain is not able to watch over you at the tournaments

lord have mercy to those who somehow actually get past daichi’s security

my best guess is that you’re probably on like , a water bottle run in between games , so that everyone can have fresh cold water during timeouts n whatnot

yeah you’ll probably get hit on by another guy in the halls ( let’s pretend it’s yuuji because i love him so much LMAO pls hit on me teru )

anyway he’ll def be at your neck like how he was tryna get kiyoko’s number

sadly you can’t do much because you have a bunch of water bottles in your hands so you’re just tryna shimmy away but terushima is not having it

out of nowhere his face blanks

literally pales

you’re about to ask him what that’s about until you feel an arm snake around your waist

like i said , the silent but deadly type

you can’t see daichi’s face as he’s staring down yuuji , but you can hear the annoyance in his voice

“ oh there you are , y/n . you need help carrying these water bottles , baby ? ”

you turn to yuuji , who has his hands up — clearly getting the message daichi was giving to him

“ alright alright , my bad ~ ! didn’t know they were yours , man . i’ll take my leave . ”

but he did add a “ see you later cutie ” before leaving the two of you alone

you couldn’t help but laugh as the captain latched onto you protectively as the two of you went back to the gym

“ daichi , it’s okay , he’s gone now ! you’ve done your job in saving me ”

“ nonsense . i can sense their eyes on you from everywhere . you’re not leaving my sight again , y/n . ”

koushi sugawara

koushi is definitely also a silent jealous type

but he’s more mellow when showing it subtly

but don’t get me wrong , the effect it leaves on others is just as menacing

he’s the type to leave that shiver of fear when he shows up

basically he’s a sweetie until people mess with you and that’s just on periodt

suga is not too protective over you , since he does trust you and has full confidence you won’t do anything to hurt him

cough cough he still wants the other nasty boogers keeping their hands off you though

i literally just imagine him going up to people like “ :))))) ??? ” when people try flirting with you LMAO

like ?? no ??? they’re ??? mine ????

not ???????? yours ??????

he’ll have that chilling ring in his voice that’s deadpan but menacing at the same time — sometimes he even scares you with it

you had a run in with tooru at the preliminaries , RIP bless his soul

you went to go watch a match while karasuno was resting ; seijoh was resting at the same time

he got a little too close for comfort in the audience stand

flashed you a famous smile of his , “ what’s a cutie like you doing here alone ? ”

“ she’s not alone , actually . ”

KFKKDKFKFKD both of your heads went a whole 180 at the sound of koushi’s voice

oh no he had that creepy smile again

“ baby , we were just looking for you . is oikawa bothering you ? ”

he turned his :) to tooru , who had already stepped a decent distance away from you

“ heaven forbid you’d be bothering y/n , oikawa , when you have a whole fanbase of girls you could be bothering instead . ”

the great king had never been so scared of a karasuno player in his life

he left in a hurry without saying much — though he was grumbling something you two couldn’t understand

switch from scary suga to soft suga uwu

he wrapped his arms around you and grinned pleasantly this time as he hugged you

“ sweetheart , don’t hesitate to tell me if anyone else is like that to you , okay ? i’ll make them go away . ”

“ koushi , you’re so scary when you’re angry ”

“ i am ? i didn’t think i was ”

“ look at how oikawa backed away when you came up ! hardly anyone can phase him ”

“ oh . maybe i am scary , but only when it comes to you . ”

he laughed and took you by the hand , and you two walked back to the rest of the team

scary suga never fails to keep the nasty boogers away

asahi azumane

he won’t even realize he’s jealous until someone points it out to him

i think nishi would be the one to point it out to him , because woah asahi looks mad

“ yo , asahi ? you good ? your knuckles are turning white ! ”

he’s been looking your direction ever since the date tech players started surrounding you , striking up conversation

he didn’t even realize yuu was talking to him until he literally had to jump up and wave in his face

asahi snapped out of it once noya caught his attention — his fists were still clenched tho

“ oh — noya . i’m fine , why ? ”

the libero didn’t buy it one bit because he didn’t know the ace even had it in him to be angry

he looked to where asahi had his eyes on the whole time before turning back to the third year with a smirk

“ you’re gonna let them just flirt with y/n like that ? what kind of boyfriend are you ? go go go ! ”

oh no yuu what did you do

“ they’re flirting with y/n ? ”

he was f u r i o u s at the thought of it

oh no no no they were not going to be flirting with you , not while asahi was your boyfriend no sir

he stormed over towards you — your back was towards karasuno so the date tech players noticed him first

asahi + scary dark death glare = run

and the date tech players — besides aone — did just that , scampering off in a hurry

you were confused until you turned around , smiling when you saw your giant teddy bear of a boyfriend

you were utterly oblivious to the stare down between him and aone

“ asahi ! shouldn’t you be practicing now ? ”

he placed a gentle but firm arm around your waist , pulling you closer to him without taking his eyes off date tech’s ace

“ yeah , but we were looking for you . i’ve come to bring you back , y/n . ”

oh heck yeah there was tension as he brought you back to your guys’ court

“ those players weren’t flirting with you , were they y/n ? ”

“ huh ? oh no ! i was just catching up with a couple of them , since i went to middle school with some of them . why ? ”

“ oh , nothing ”

you couldn’t even ask him anything else as he walked away without another word , which was very not like him

you had to get the answer from nishinoya later on , who was laughing hysterically at your description of the way your boyfriend was acting

“ OMG Y/N HE REALLY WAS JEALOUS , I TOLD HIM THAT DATE TECH WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU I CANT BELIEVE HE BELIEVED ME ”

after the tournament both of you were blubbering apologies to each other

you apologizing for making asahi jealous

and asahi apologizing for acting like a brat about it

in summary , asahi + jealousy = pls save yourself from that man he is terrifying

he’ll make it up to you with tons n tons of cuddles later so he’s still your big teddy bear <3

806 notes · View notes

djmarinizelablog · 4 years ago

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hi! read your last ask and you said that you took up creative writing classes so you might have a wider knowledge about this but i was wondering when u mentioned different writing styles (like minimalistic, hightened imagery, linear vilennete and all of that) could you maybe explain the difference and what they really mean and maybe examples in our own levihan nation and writers? this might be asking for too much but i was pretty lost and i'd like to know more about all that. however you are def free to ignore this too!

Did you just ask me to write a comprehensive poetics essay, Anon? (I love writing about writing lmao)

Super long post ahead, and I’ll be citing certain fanfics that I’ve read so far and those that I think somehow exemplifies all the different writing styles I mentioned in the previous post.

First off, the ones I listed beforehand (minimalistic prose, heightened imagery, poetic language, linear narrative, non-linear vignettes) aren’t the only types of writing styles. There are more if you consider the variations of tone (humor/comedy, sentimental, macabre, noir etc), narration/perspective (first person, second person, third person omniscient/limited), and language (dialogue-heavy or action/scene-driven). And the nice thing is that you can actually use of one or two of them in your work---or all of them, if you’re feeling bold.

As Hange always loves to do: “Let’s experiment!”

--------

I’ll start with minimalistic prose. It is what it is: short, clear, and concise. Think less is more. You have an economy with words where you disregard most adverbs and focus more on the context to make way for meaning, thus allowing the readers to create their own interpretations of your writing. I think the method here is to write your intended draft first, and then cut the unnecessary words to flesh out the scene even more.

Notice how @stereobone wrote this paragraph of Black Dog (an Eruri fic):

Isabel's voice wakes him, brother, brother, has him sitting upright in bed and grabbing for the knife under his mattress. He braces himself for the attack before he realizes there isn't one. There is nothing in the darkness but him and his heavy, panicked breathing. Levi's heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of his chest. He drops the knife on the mattress and shuts his eyes and tries not to think about Farlan's bloody resigned face before he was eaten. He tries not to think about how he left them. How it's his fault.

It’s very simplistic in language; the paragraph lets you focus on Levi’s innermost thoughts while he deals with an external action (ie, having nightmares). The author hasn’t unraveled the rest of the plot yet, but you already know where the tension is coming from.

Next is heightened imagery. If you’re familiar with the different figures of speech (metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, etc), then this is where they all come into play. I think the challenge here is being able to balance it well with the text itself and make sure that the imagery actually clarifies the context of the paragraph instead of convoluting the intended meaning.

Here’s an excerpt from A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me:

Hanji watched Levi, standing there, head bent and bloodied handkerchief pressed against his arm, and was reminded, irrationally, of a night years ago. When her parents had taken her to the circus. [. . . .] Holding her parent’s hands, she’d gaped, head craned back as she watched the spectacle, a cacophonous mixture of sound and color. At the center of it all, she’d spied a boy. Among the twisting colors and tricks, he alone, was still. [. . . .] The boy was high above, balancing on a platform atop a long pole. In front of him, stretched an audaciously thin rope. Below, no net waited to catch him.

[. . . .]

When Levi looked up, his expression was set - like the boy before the tightrope. And she knew, with sinking certainty, he was going to take the step. Into thin air.

Gray eyes met her gaze and held it.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

At the door, Kenny smiled.

See how the powerful imagery of the boy on the tightrope was able to fuel the tension in that moment among Levi, Hange, and Kenny?

I think poetic language is akin to heightened imagery, except that the former is more focused on the actual language. It’s very lyrical, wherein you can actually hear the lulling song of the sentences in a rhythm. One of my favorite works that does this is Deep sea baby by @smallblip. Here she makes use of various setting and scenery to create this entire atmosphere of Levi and Hange’s relationship:

Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.

The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.

The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.

One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.

"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.

He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

It’s hauntingly poetic, the way the author is able to connect the metaphor in “a river of words” to the actual body of water right in front of Levi and Hange. Good poetic language is able to tighten up the texts together while keeping the sentence structure flowing with apt figures of speech.

When it comes to narratives, it only comes down to linear or non-linear. See how @lostcauses-noregrets does her opening statement in Trains (also an Eruri fic):

Levi hates trains. To be fair, Levi hates all forms of public transport, but he reserves a particular loathing for trains. They’re dirty, noisy, smelly and worse, filled with people. People who, heaven forbid, might attempt to speak to Levi, engage him in conversation. Levi’s worst nightmare is being stuck on a train with some friendly fuck who wants to pass the time making small talk. Admittedly it’s not a problem he has to deal with too often, his general fuck off demeanour deters all but the most aggressively friendly and hopelessly inebriated. But that doesn’t stop Levi from hating trains.

It’s a short fic and it’s very dependent on the linearity of events happening. But with that banger of a first sentence, the beginning already gives you enough of an idea of Levi’s pet peeve in the story, which in this case, is trains.

Here’s another hot and steamy fic called keep him waiting by keobuns that shows a linear narrative:

He’s sitting with them in the back of the lab, nursing a cup of tea — it’s still pretty full, and even cold now, for he was far too distracted listening to Hanji talk to properly drink — when he sees it. Hanji’s too preoccupied with overexplaining the same Titan experiment they’ve gone over a hundred times to notice his stare. They just continue on and on and on, gesturing with their hands, pointing with their fingers, flexing their wrists…

Ah. Levi has to bring his teacup to his lips to hide the way his lips tremble. Hanji has incredibly nice hands.

The entire story just revolves around Levi simping for Hange’s hands and how it all goes down from there. But you as a reader are kept wanting more with every paragraph and every sentence that the author constructs (and trust me, it’s not just the sexual tension between Levi and Hange that keeps us going).

Now, as much as I love the straightforwardness of linear prose, non-linear writing brings a different round of ideas onto the table. It can create recollections from flashbacks, heighten the perspective or interior turmoil of a character due to trauma or grief, or even just re-invent what-if scenes that the characters have imagined themselves.

Gnossiene by @thatalmondgirl is one of my all-time favorite Rivetra fics. In this excerpt, you will see how she switches between the past and the present, and how it affects Petra’s POV as a conflicted character:

Contrary to popular belief (fuck Auruo) Petra actually didn’t cry easily.

Alright, she could admit that at some times, she was...emotional. It was far from a weakness, but even she could admit that they sometimes got in the way and walled off all rational thought. Anger, frustration, sadness, hell, even happiness. The only one she could easily compartmentalise away was fear, which probably stemmed from her military career. Even so. It was never easy to separate all the others from her actions, think from a clean slate like the Commander could do, like the captain. [. . . ] Petra groaned, splayed out across her bed. She drew her arm across her eyes, willing the tears to go away. She’d already blown through her tissue box.

“Petra, a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” Mama sat on the end of her bed, with Petra on the floor between her legs. Even though Petra argued firmly that she was old enough to brush her own hair, Mama had insisted. Unfortunately, Petra wasn’t old enough - and probably never would be - to disagree with her mother.

“I know, Mama.” Petra grumbled.

“I don’t think you do. Else you wouldn’t be crying, would you?”

[. . . .]

“But a man shouldn’t complete you when you complete yourself. Maybe he’s an extension to your house. So you’ll be sad if the extension is compromised or burns down. But you still have the main house. And if it’s strong, the main house can still be standing even after the worst storm.”

Aside from Mama’s crazy metaphors that sometimes didn’t make sense, her message hit home. Even if it hit home years later.

See how it switched in between the before and after?

An off-shoot of non-linear writing are vignettes (a layering of scenes separated by section breaks) wherein this writing style allows writers to curate scenes in terms of fragments, creating some kind of mosaic for the readers once they finally see the big picture. Nakimochiku’s I’m leaving, are you coming with me? stacks up scenes of interactions between Levi and Hange, enough to depict the kind of relationship that they have as young lovers in a school setting. You can string these fragments together, rearrange them in a different order, but in the end, you will still get the author's clear goal of highlighting how Levi and Hange’s relationship develops over time.

Those are the styles that I mentioned in my previous posts, but as I’ve told you, there’s more to writing than those, so I’ll give a short run-through of other methods in writing.

Whether it’s dialogue-heavy works such as from my window to yours, or action-driven scenes like Carnivores (a Levi x Reader fic by CaptainDegenerate) that propel the story forward, we as readers should be able to follow through the actual storyline that the authors intend to take us.

A third-person limited (we listen to Hange’s thoughts in Clockwork by @tundrainafrica) vis-à-vis an all-knowing/omniscient narration (the moon is dark by @sayonarasanity alternates the perspective of Levi and Hange) should be able to make us understand why the author chose this particular kind of point-of-view in order to tell the story.

And lastly, having a solid and consistent tone throughout the work (the macabre of Even Humanity’s Strongest could make mistakes by Rimeko versus the sweet sentimentality of Flowers for You by @fanmoose12) should be able to set the atmosphere that the authors want us to imbibe as we read through their works.

So there’s your crash course on writing and reading. Enjoy? :)

#levihan #writing #fanfic #fanfictions #fanfiction #ao3 #djmarinizela #mine

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tyonfs · 3 years ago

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seriously fuck this app for not letting me reblog in peace 🤬 god knows how many times i tried i lost everything i typed 🧍anyways sending this here instead ^^

i may have alr forgotten a huge chunk of what i wanted to say but this i haven’t— i love loooove love their friend group so much. esp how loving and caring and protective renjun is over mc!! :( also, mc and jaemin’s dynamic? whew loved that sm. how they could just naturally transition to lovers (horny ones at that — but that’s more jaemin rlly that bastard) and their closeness as friends is still there yk what i mean ;-;; tho i found all the chaos so much fun hhhh. yeonjun just mentioning he’s interested in her but haven’t rlly acted much (or at all even lmao) on it since yet suddenly became the source of chaotic misunderstandings(?) NSHSHSHS

THE SEXY SCENES 🧍 despite how annoyingly horny jm can be love how he unknowingly(?) just put her needs first without expecting her to reciprocate it right away (hope i remembered this correctly i know he like,,, realized it a bit late after that, god i hate my mind) of course he cares about her more than he realized this idiot. there’s the awkwardness but damn oh damn the intimacy it’s all so fucking hot but u could feel there’s alr more to it than just lust :( love these stupid babies.

and oh my god when he was streaming!!!!! but the way i pictured it like the times he’s on their huya lives?? ykno when he just runs his mouth nonstop while playing GODDDDD very annoying yet endearing yes jaemin annoys me so much but i l word ok ok ok

they’re so stupid but understandable everyone is vvv likeable here btw :( will never stop thinking about how they just have such great chemistry. as much as yeonjun was slandered here haha let’s not forget how when it’s bad experiences it’s compared to hyucksNSHSHSHSHSHS i enjoyed reading this a lot it’s so much thank you :(( one of the great ways to start this year. (…..being whipped for njm ig)

love his character development here btw hands down. i cannot move on about his fucking twitch tshirt tho NDHDHDH m gonna throw that away myself if i could. ALSO oh my god i just remembered it’s so funny how someone always walked in on them HAHA the confession — as cringey and awkward(??) as it was, that’s just so them yk and to top it all off jaemin forgetting to end his stream 💀💀💀 ok again. this is so enjoyable to read thank you so much i hope you have a great day and a great year ahead u deserve the best ;;;;

tumblr’s bugs strike again 😞😞 i’m so sorry it crashed on your reblog love D; but ??? omg you rlly typed it out again for the ask THATS SO NICE OF YOU :(( and pls this is such a long ask i’m like sobbing over the fact that you took the time to write all of this and you have so many thoughts about my fic ☹️💗 i had to bring out my notes app to make sure i typed out everything i was feeling while referencing back to this ask !!!!! 😳 thank you sm for reading and sending this like !!! IM SO HAPPY 😭😭

i’m so glad you liked the friend group together !! i’ve always wanted to write a fic where the friend group was well fleshed out and had important roles (and this actually wasn’t the fic i was going to try it out on) but it served as a good stepping stone and your words make me feel more hyped to improve :’)) although they didn’t have many scenes together, i loved them too 🥰🥰 i get emotionally attached to my own characters sobsob and YES RENJUN !!!! he’s my ult too :’) actually i ult half of dream so i cant defend myself but !! he made their arrangement soooo romeo and juliet for a little 😭 and i love writing protective (but sorta chill??) best friends ♡ AAAA PLS IT WARMS MY HEART TO HEAR THAT YOU LIKED MC AND JAEMINS DYNAMIC that’s like everything for me 🤧💘 i rlly wanted to preserve their friendship even while they were treading the line between fwb to lovers, but there were those little moments like jaemin calling mc creepy for staring at him and mc telling him to shut up when he made a dirty joke :’))

HAHAHAH poor yeonjun 😭 the whole situation is a fictional representation of friends exaggerating a memory of a guy saying he’s interested in you, and then proceeding to hype it up without realizing they’ve looked to deeply into it 😵‍💫 but man yeonjun’s officially branded as The Infamous Litterer™️ in jaemin’s eyes

AHHH IM GLAD YOU LIKED THOSE MOMENTS :’)) <33 yesyesyes!! mc didn’t exactly realize she had feelings at first but i like to think ab it like “she fell first, he fell harder” bc jaemin completely lost his confidence when he realized he liked her a lot and didn’t want to push her too far. he didn’t go all the way with her bc he realized right before but yes he didn’t expect her to reciprocate what she wasn’t ready for :’) little did he know that mc is like the biggest virgin but extra horny 😭

PLEASE I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT UR TALKING ABOUT hes so cute when he games i’m sobbing but yes that mouth RUNS i lov when he talks fast HAHAH like in the mafia games he spits bars to his advantage to make everyone else give up trying to understand 😭😭 also i’m so glad you liked all the characters :’)) my goal was to make them all have their charms even with little screentime(??) LOLL and 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ hyuck having girl trouble And the awkward first-time story 😞 free him from the slander i bestowed upon him

GLAD I COULD START UR YEAR OFF WITH SELF INDULGENT NA JAEMIN CONTENT THO 😎😎 it’s what the nanadoongies deserve 🧘‍♀️ AND AHAHA YES they were always walked in 😭💔 first by renjun, then by jaemin’s twitch stream audience, and then by mark (but at least they were mostly safe for mc’s first-time !! until jeno walked in during the aftermath 💀)

but thank you sm for leaving me such a sweet and heartfelt message angel !! i’m so touched that you put in all this effort to type this out for me 😭😭💖 i hope you have a wonderful day/night and a great 2022 ahead !! ♡ sending my love and support your way :]

#tyonfs asks #njmtography #fic: cherry girl!#💘💞💗💖💘💝💕💖💗

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irwinkitten · 5 years ago

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a bet’s a bet | poly!cashton

notes: so, been apart of the collab writers event for this and it was so much fun! it was also the most difficult damn thing to write lmao. but i had fun and this is the tiresome result! (it would’ve been a meagre 133 words however, with the help of @softbabiestan, @spicycal and @sexgodashton, the fic really pulled together. thank u babies for helping me.) warnings: none word count: 3.6k

prompt line: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing, I almost never do.”

find every piece of the writers collab event here

donate to my ko-fi

It was only years of friendship with Luke that stopped you from walking back out of the room, a scowl set upon your features.

“You want me to... what?” The last word was hissed dangerously and you felt a slim tug of satisfaction as the baby blue eyes widened, fear prominent as he backtracked over his words, trying to appease the anger he’d clearly ignited.

“Just, let me get you out on a date!” The words were hasty and Luke froze before groaning, his fingers running through his blonde curls before he turned his pleading eyes to you.

“What, go out on a date with you? Luke, I’m confused.” Your words made him pause for a second before rolling his eyes with a huff.

“You know I don’t share. Neither does Sierra. No, what I meant to say was let me set you up on a date. Just one, and then I’ll let it go.” The plea gave you a moment to think, eyeing him carefully as you thought over his words.

“Why?”

“Because you’re shutting everyone out.” Luke snapped, taking in a steadying breath. “Wait—it’s not that you’re shutting everyone out, but you’re not giving yourself a chance. Every person you’ve gone on a date with has burned you ruthlessly and if you keep this up, you’ll give up entirely. I know you. I know that giving up on something like the chance to be loved would hurt you. Badly. I can’t see you break your own heart like that.” His words were quieter as his hand had reached out to take yours.

You couldn’t fault Luke for his worry. You’d pulled away, unwilling to go out on nights out to see everyone coupled up, leaving you the odd person out. It stung and Luke truly knew you far too well.

“You promise that you won’t hurt me?” A small part in your mind hated how small, unsure you sounded. But after being hurt so many times, you were wary. And Luke knew that.

“After the last disastrous attempt at a relationship, I know better now. I have an idea that might work but you need to keep an open mind for me.” His arms had pulled you in for a hug and you allowed your head to rest on his collarbone, taking in a slow deep breath before pulling away.

“Alright.”

The smile that Luke gave you in return made you sigh exasperatedly before leaning up to kiss his cheek, a fond smile on your lips.

Luke used his advantage of you being wrapped up by him to push you towards the conservatory where you knew that Sierra had been waiting for the games night the three of you shared. Sometimes with other people but more often than not it was the three of you.

“He managed to convince you, then?” At her question, you groaned once he let you go so that you could sit down, taking his own spot next to his girlfriend and kissing her cheek in greeting.

“I take it this is a plan concocted between the two of you?” Came your reply in way of answering.

Sierra just laughed and dealt out the cards. It seemed that it was going to be poker tonight.

After two games, Luke had brought out the wine to be shared between the three of you. Just before the fifth game, he paused Sierra in her shuffling of the cards. This earned curious looks from the two of you, both of you sharing a look before turning to Luke.

“Blind date. Let me set you up on a blind date.” You eyed him carefully at his words.

“Does this include the date you want to set me up on or is it separate?” Your words made him roll his eyes at you. You held back from outright grinning at his reaction.

“Fucking Slytherin.” He muttered. “It would be included in the date I want to set you up on. One date.”

It took you a few moments, weighing up his words before realising that there was hardly any harm in letting him do this.

“Fine.” You bit out and his grin turned almost predatory, a look you’d never associated with Luke before.

“How about we make a bet? It’ll be a literal blind date, blindfolds and everything. However, you can’t take the blindfold off at all. Neither can they.”

“How about we play a game of poker to decide if this bet goes ahead or not?” And the grin turned into a smirk, the dawning realisation that this had been his goal. You glared at him.

“If I win, then the bet is in play. If I lose, we don’t and I won’t try anything like this for six months.” You could feel yourself rising to his challenge, to his bait. But you were stubborn and proud. And with the victory of the last two games in your corner, you felt confident.

“Deal. Sierra is the dealer, so you don’t get any ideas to cheat a win.” That made Luke laugh as he stuck out his hand and you sighed before shaking it. “And you call me a Slytherin. Asshole.”

Luke only grinned at your words as he settled back smugly, allowing Sierra to deal the deck without getting in her way.

“Where would this date be? Public?” You asked after taking a sip of your drink and Luke hesitated for only a moment, but you saw it.

“No. It’ll be dinner here. The less publicity, the better.” This made you raise an eyebrow at him. He grinned back.

“So I take it that having sex on the dinner table would be off the cards?” You’d timed it deliberately as he took a sip of his drink, clearly not expecting that response from you as he spluttered wine over himself in an attempt to stop it from spraying further. He scowled at you as you smirked.

“Fucking menace. It’ll be here so that you’re all comfortable and a rumour mill won’t start.” He grumbled as he stood up to head back towards the kitchen. You glanced at Sierra who shrugged as she held the cards, waiting for Luke to return.

“Don’t look at me like that, he’s doing it to protect your reputation. You’re close enough to him without actually dating him and so people are gonna be interested in how to get close. You know what he’s like.” And this made you relax a little about it.

You’d known Luke since you were kids. When he made it big in the music industry with his solo career, you’d followed him to LA barely a year later. You’d never been seen away from him and people had immediately assumed.

The assumptions had long since died, although the rumours still existed, there wasn’t any truth to them. But he’d been almost ruthlessly protective of you and your reputation from then on, so you never argued when he told you about a decision for something like this. It made you more determined to beat him, so you wouldn’t have to subject yourself to the date.

When he returned with a napkin, blotting away the excess wine and cleaning up, he took his seat and Sierra dealt out the cards. He held your gaze for a moment before picking up his cards and you did the same.

“Ready to lose, Hemmings?” You took a steadying breath to stop the smirk from spreading.

He had no such trouble in hiding his smirk as he replied.

“Bring it on.”

—

“Okay are you really going this far?” You complained good naturedly as you stepped out of the car once you’d arrived at Luke’s, to find the man himself stood there, a smirk in place with a black satin tie in his hand.

“You agreed to it. You’re the last one to arrive.” You sighed before turning so that your back was facing Luke and he chuckled as the satin tie covered your eyes.

For a solid second you felt a sliver of fear run down your spine but you knew that was down to the Criminal Minds marathon you were currently in the middle of. The second that Luke’s hands were on your shoulders, turning you slowly, your body relaxed.

“Start putting one front in front of the other, I’ll keep you on course.” His voice was soft, gentle, reassuring. Your stomach was twisting knots now and you stopped for a second to quell the panic that was threatening to overcome you.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy now. You trust me right?” It felt disorientating, knowing he was behind you but he was moving as well without lifting his hands from your shoulders.

“Yes. I’m just—nervous. And maybe a little bit scared.” You admitted to your friend. You heard Luke sigh before his arms came around you and pulled you into a strong hug, one that reminded you that he wouldn’t put you in any kind of danger and that he was there, for both reassurance and comfort.

“I made Mike force a promise out of them to be on best behaviour.” You felt your stomach do another turn, but you weren’t too sure if it was from excitement or nerves. Them. There were at least two of them.

“Okay.” You let out a deep breath before pulling away. This time, Luke took your hands and his footsteps were slow as he guided you the last bit into the house.

“Right. I’ve got my two step porch and then it’s flat till the front door. First step. Good, there we go. And now the second step. Nearly there.”

By the time you were in the house, your nerves had vanished, replaced with annoyance to Luke and his bet. But you kept quiet. You'd promised not to complain too much, which meant only complaining to your date. Or dates. You tried to hold back the noise of frustration as you were guided into the house.

Curiosity overrode your annoyance once you were seated. You could hear breathing to your left and right so you tried to steady the bundle of nerves that had settled.

“Right, have fun and both Michael and I promise that the food will be easy for you guys to eat, no need to for cutlery. Much.”

“Luke.” You snapped but he simply laughed, the laughter getting quieter before a door shut and it vanished. You held back a sigh.

“The fact that Luke blindfolded us before we even got to the door is frustrating. And I’m gonna get Mike back for this.” The person on your right muttered, his voice almost smooth like honey. There was a nagging feeling in your mind which was telling you that you’d heard the voice before.

“Well, they might know what’s going on but I have no idea what I’m doing or letting myself in for.” You murmured gently and there was a laugh to your left this time whilst the one on your right snorted.

“Feeling is absolutely mutual. How about you give us a name?” The smooth honeyed voice asked quietly and you felt your eyes roll back before remembering they couldn’t see the motion.

“You two give me yours and I’ll give you mine.” There was a choked laugh from the hallway and you sighed. “Names, nothing more... yet.”

The one to your left chuckled.

“Feisty. Nice to meet ya’. I’m Calum.” You had your head turned in his direction, his words slow and quiet.

You turned your head to the right, if only to tamper down your own embarrassment at the feeling of just talking to two strangers without looking—well, turning—in their direction.

“And you are?” You drew out the third word, making Calum snicker. You could hear muffled laughter in the hallway too.

“I’m Ashton. What about you? All is fair in love and war, and we deserve your name at least, don’t we?” You smirked.

“Ah, so you both know each other already?” At this, Calum groaned before Ashton snorted.

“Quick on that one were you?” You kept quiet at Ashton’s question before he sighed. “Yeah, we know each other.”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” It was a playful taunt, but you couldn’t help yourself. Eventually you murmured your name, both men testing it on their lips. You were almost grateful for the blindfolds being able to hide the delight in your face from their eyes.

It fell into an awkward silence, and you could hear something crash in the kitchen, despite the muffled sound and finally you broke the silence with a giggle. It didn’t take Ashton or Calum long to chuckle.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing, I almost never do.” You finally murmured. “So I’m just gonna ask the most basic question, how do you both know Luke?”

There was a pause and Ashton finally responded.

“We first met him when he released the single that shot him straight into the charts. He was very different back then, but we stayed in touch and as we got older, we became friends. Calum introduced him to Michael, the one who’s helping him apparently, and they’ve worked on a couple of tracks together.” The names were familiar and you kept trying to place them before it struck you.

“Wait, Ashton Irwin and Calum Hood, right? Radio show hosts? So that means Mike is the DJ, Michael Clifford?” Calum laughed.

“I told you that they’d know who we are, Ash.” You tried not to let the grin overtake your lips as you relaxed into the chair. You’d heard enough about them that you weren’t so nervous about this.

“Yeah, yeah. And what about our mysterious blind date, huh? We don’t know much about you.” You shrugged before mentally smacking yourself as you remembered that they weren’t going to see a shrug.

“Luke is my best friend. We grew up together and he’s kind of stuck with me for life.” Despite knowing who these people were, it didn't lessen your suspicions.

Before either of them could reply, a noise broke the silence as the door into the dining room opened.

“And for the first food item of the night, we have a very huge pizza that we totally did not order from the local pizza place.” Luke’s voice seemed to hold his accent a bit more as he put on the airs. You could hear someone behind him laughing.

“For drinks, it’s water because since you all drove and Luke is a dumbass, there’s no other non alcoholic beverage apart from coffee and tea and that’s not something you’re supposed to drink on a first date.” You’d not heard this voice before, but you could only assume that it was Michael.

“The dish is in front of you and there are napkins to the left of your plate. Enjoy!” And just as quickly as they’d arrived they were gone again with the slam of the door. You laughed along with Calum and Ashton.

You carefully patted around the plate to find the napkin before gently tapping your fingers against the table top, moving further inwards until you hit the hot pizza crust. Just as you found the pizza crust, Ashton made a noise of disgust.

“Should’ve thought that the actual topping of the pizza would feel disgusting.” He muttered, making both you and Calum laugh as you tore your piece away, going back for a second once you’d put it on your plate.

Warm fingers brushed the back of your hand and you pulled it away sharply, wondering if this really was the best idea.

“Sorry.” Calum hummed and you could only make a noise of acknowledgement in return as you settled on just eating the one piece you had, ignoring the goosebumps that had risen at his touch.

It was quiet between the three of you for a few moments, your mind settling on the fact that going on this date with both of them wasn’t half bad. But you knew you were never going to admit that to Luke, otherwise you’d definitely never hear the end of it from him.

It pushed onto questions of your job, seemingly switching between the three of you.

“So have you two, like, dated together before or?” You felt bold asking that question. The last slice of pizza had gone and you were certainly feeling more comfortable with them both.

“I mean, we never really dated. It was just a fling I guess?” Calum answered, the question in his tone clearly for Ashton.

“It was more of something that kind of happened by accident. At a work Christmas party, there was a game of spin the bottle.” Ashton hesitated before continuing, “I knew it was going to happen, but we went with it when the bottle landed on Calum. Hour or so later, we’d fully reverted to teenage years and played seven minutes in heaven.”

This earned a breathless laugh from Calum.

“If I remember correctly, you muttered about finding out if the rumours about my mouth were true or not.” Another laugh followed his statement and Ashton cleared his throat.

“Yeah well, you truly put those rumours to shame. Ever since, we just existed I guess? We weren’t officially a thing, but I wouldn’t say no when Cal turned up with a couple of beers and a smirk on his lips. It’s only recently that we kinda branched out.” Ashton finished with his explanation and you could feel how flustered you felt at his words.

“And what have you found from branching out?” You quietly asked. Calum responded this time.

“That we might have something we really want to try.” And you hummed in appreciation at his honesty.

“Do you two share everything then?” Your words were playful, teasing. Ashton caught his breath as he took a sip if the sputtering was anything to go by.

The dynamic duo that the three of you had dubbed Luke and Michael broke the moment, before they could give you an answer.

“Desserts! That totally isn’t store bought at all. Not us. Never.” Michael cried out and you found yourself rolling your eyes behind the blindfold.

“At least you two are good for one thing.” You fired back cheekily, earning a few laughs from them. Luke one upped you.

“Getting the three of you together, we know. We’ll be back and don’t fuck on my dining room table!” He yelled once the dishes were set on the table and beat a hasty retreat.

“They’re gonna be smug insufferable bastards for the rest of the year.” Calum muttered as they heard the laughter die down once the door had shut once more.

“Just, don’t take your fuckin’ blindfolds off. I am not losing another bet to Luke.” You muttered sharply and Ashton chuckled.

“Oh we already told them that we’d be keeping the silk ties that they’ve used as blindfolds. However, it’s up to you if you’d let us use them.” And you could feel your heart thundering in your chest as you took in a sharp gasp at Ashton’s words.

“Depends on how you plan to use them, since we have three of them.” You fired back after only a moment of hesitation. Calum laughed.

“Oh baby, you got two hands don’t you?” The tease didn’t hide the implication in his voice and you felt your breath catch for a second time in as many minutes.

Part of you wondered if they were goading you to take the blindfold off, to lose the bet if only to get out of the house quicker with them. But your competitive nature held you in place.

“I like the sound of where this is going. So the question would be, who’s place would we go to, since I really doubt that Luke would want us to try anything in his home.”

“Too fucking right!” Was the muffled response behind the door and Ashton snickered before Calum answered.

“How about we book a hotel for the night? It’s neutral ground, and not to mention, no need to really clean up any mess we make. And believe me, there will be a lot of mess eventually.”

Calum’s plan seemed to be easy for you. And you could feel the blood rushing around your body as your mind wandered to thoughts of the night ahead.

“Are we allowed to leave yet Luke?” You called, loud enough to be heard over the muffled laughter. It took a few moments before he came in and groaned.

“Let us get these two knuckleheads out and then I’ll come back for you. Looks like you won that side of the bet.” You laughed at his petulant tone, listening patiently as the chairs scraped against the floor before their footsteps got quieter.

Another set of footsteps returned and you leaned into Luke for a moment once you were up, surprising him with a hug.

“Thanks Lu.” You murmured and he chuckled softly as he guided you back out of his house.

“If you need anything, just give me a call. Are you taking your car or-”

“They can ride with us.” Calum’s voice cut Luke’s question off. You smiled.

“It’s fine Lu. I’ll pick my car up tomorrow.”

The blindfold dropped and you had to take a few minutes to adjust from the sudden light before glancing around. Luke had already retreated indoors, the door slamming just seconds later. Your eyes studied the two men in front of you, and your mind finally connected the dots between them.

Calum stood there with a grin, holding the blindfolds in his hands, his skin glowing in the setting sun. You noticed that both of them had dressed up as you glanced at Ashton, his own attire being dress pants and a white button down, the top few buttons undone.

Pictures that you’d seen of them truly did not do them justice as Calum reached his free hand out to you as he spoke.

“Ready to find out if we really share everything?”

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years ago

Text

I watched Joker tonight and typed out my thoughts as they occurred to me. Unedited; typos are guaranteed. I did this a few months ago and really enjoyed looking back at my thought process and I wanted to do it again so that I can look back and know that what I feel is real and true in my darkest times.

You're welcome to skip this; it's under a cut for ease of doing so. Warnings for occasional sexual comment lmao. There’s no self shipping in this, I don’t think.

word count: 2, 575.

I’M SOBBING and I’ve only just pressed play.

Heart squeeze Chest much ow

THERE HE IS

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nooooo baby omg don’t pretend - let yourself hurt if it hurts. Don’t pretend.

Carnival Carnival Carnivalllllllll 😍😍😍😍😍

I am a Simp for one clown and his name is Carnival

Someone help him, I????

That sign hit Arthur as hard as my love for him did ksksksk

MY EYES BE LEAKIN💔💔💔💔💔

bb nooooo

Oh honey let me kiss those bruises and replace the marks of violence with love, hm? You’re safe with me.

Breathe, my love. Don’t fight the laughter. Let it out, let yourself go.

Screams into a pillow because????? much sad must kiss

“have you been keeping up with your journal?” LIKE HE HAS TIME

oHHHHH boi’s close to losing his shit

Do it, Artie. Give ‘em hell.

“I think I did” YOU TELL HER!!💖💖💖

I want to be his cigarette. Where’s Satan??? I got a new deal for my blackened soul which he took at half price😂😂😂😂

I’d have my hand between the door and his head so fuckin fast I swear

“I just don’t wanna feel so bad anymore” yep SAME

ohhhh peekaboo🥺🥺🥺

this makes me giggle ksksksk i watch this scene when i feel sad bc it always makes me happy for the time it’s on

he’s so good with kids; he doesn’t have to try and think about what’s funny, he just does it, he’s himself and it works

FUCK OFF LADY CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S STRUGGLING????

give

him

back

his

card

casually wrinkling my nose against tears lmao

ohhh the way he looks up at those stairs from the bottom

i can feel his exhaustion

me too, my love

step step step step

god i wanna get him the fuck outta gotham

and into my arms and a soft, warm blanket

“eat. you need to eat” LITERALLY WHAT I TELL MYSELF EVERY DAY IN HIS VOICE BC OTHERWISE I JUST WOULDNT EAT???? I’m losing so much weight asdfghjk its not enough tho

SUPAH RATS

Did Arthur come up w that joke or was it actually a Murray joke????

HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IM CRY??🥺🥺🥺🥺

“I WAS PUT HERE TO SPREAD JOY AND LAUGHTER”

YOU DO BABY, YOU DO!!!! EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!

go deepthroat a cactus randall - youre already a bit of a prick so🙃🙃🙃

“THE GUYS THINNK YOU’RE A FREAK BUT I LIKE YOU”

HOYT. YOU CAN GO SIT ON A CACTUS TOO

FUCK OFF

😡😡😡😡

“WHY WOULD ANYONE STEAL A SIGN”//”WHY DOES ANYONE DO ANYTIHNG?” HOYT YOU’RE SO FUCKING ILLOGICAL HERE IM????? ERIKA DOES NOT (ALSO WILL NOT LMAO IM A STUBBORN BIITCH) COMPUTE

Can arthur fuck me like he pounds the trash/????🥵🥵👀

those dark curls.... that crooked tooth... must kiss.🥺🥺🥺

pennys casual cruelty makes me so fucking angry

foreshadowingggggg ~ *JAZZ HANDS*

ugh the way he dances with that gun im👀🥵🥵🥵

he enjoys the power of it and his breathing gets deeper asdfghjk

clumsy baby omggggg i just COOED 🥺🥺🥺🥺

okay maybe im stupid but i genuinely dont understand this “senior who needs to graduate” skit i’m??? how is being an intro to western civ student funny im???? someone explain???

but also dont bc fuck that guy lmao arthur’s hilarious

true millenial humour (and brit humour lmao we’re dark asf)

THE WAY ARTIE TWIRLS HIS FINGERS AROUND HIS HAIR AND DANCES IN HIS SEAT IM???🥺🥺🥺

wanna curl up on his lap at night when hes writing and go to sleep with a

blanket around our bodies🥺🥺🥺🥺

when arthur wears a shirt at home you KNOW it’s a daydream

THAT CROOKED TOOTH IM WANT KISS.

WAIT IS IT CALLED STAND UP COMEDY BC YOU STAND UP... AND ITS COMEDY???

23 FUCKING YEARS, PEOPLE... TO REALISE THAT🙄

WHEN CARNIVAL CAME ON SCREEN I NTHE HOSPITAL I MADE A PORNOGRAPHIC NOISE LMAO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

IF YOURE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT, SHOOT MURRAY

WOOPS WRONG LYRICS

😂

“doctor of laughter”🥺🥺🥺🥺

doctor i have a case of the Big Sad can you... do an exam? 😉😏

NO BB DONT BEAT YOUR HEAD UP THERES PRECIOUS CARGO IN THERE

in what world does chucking cold greasy chips in a girls hair being “nice”???

lmao fuck these guys

ohhh honey breathe. dont fight it, my love, just breathe.

my heart’s breaking for you, you sweet thing🥺🥺🥺

i love you so so so so so so so much ugh you’re an actual fucking angel

just breathe darling

i need to get you a cup of tea with honey in it, your throat must be so sore

ohhhh baby im so sorry

i’d take every single punch if i could

i’d die for you

i wish i could protect you

i wish i could look after you

and take all those hits

and kill those guys for you

im so sorry

sobbingggg

YES GOOD MAN THANK YOUUU

KILL THOSE ASSHOLES LMAO DESERVED IT

yeah i have a grey morality... im similar to deadpool in that way tbh

carnival comin’ to kill your insecurities

8 bullets in a 6 chamber???? mm-hm

DONT FORGET YOUR BAG THATS EVIDENCE

AND THE WIG

RUN BABY RUNNNNNNN

GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOOOOO

RUN LIKE THE WIND BULLSEYE

THE SOUND OF HIS FEET SLAPPING THE PAVEMENT IM👀

OOOOOH JOKER’S WAKIN’ UUUUUUP

fuck he’s so hypnotic

the way he runs his hand down his lower stomach asdfghj🥵

must kiss the inner tendons on his wrists and lick the blood off his face

must kiss

he moves like water

fuck hes so fluid

bathroom scene = the scene in which my heart and vagina clench at the same time

im WANT

T POSEEEEEEEE

“i still owe you for that, dont i?”

PUNCH OUT IS MY FAVOURITE THING E V E R

D O N T S M I LE

UGH I FUCKING HATE being told to smile if i don’t fucking want to so BIG mood

PLEASE SHUSH ME THE WAY YOU JUST SHUSHED PENNY IM???

but also dont lmao bc i’ll think you’re mad at me and i’ll hide in the bedroom for the rest of the day lmao i’m sensitive✨✨✨

i wanna sit on his lap and still his bouncing knees

“thats not funny”

fuck off penny yes it is

I JUST CHOKED ON MY COFFEE IM???

“but i do” god the P O W E R

ugh that fucking sexist piece of shit comedian can choke “women look at sex like buying a car” 🤢🤮🤢🤢🤮

chauvinistic pigs can die thanks

his lil trip upstage im cry🥺🥺🥺

ohhh baby. just breathe, darling. it’s okay to be scared. dont fight it. just breathe.

he and i both cover our mouths when we laugh/smile in the exact same way and it makes me feel closer to him

how can they think hes laughing at himself when hes literally gagging????

people only see what they wanna

the Penny imitation is👌👌👌

s m i l e

i remember when i came home from seeing this for the first time, i got home and dropped to my knees to cry in the bathroom. it was such an emotional release and so much love and i played smile to try to make myself smile but i only made myself cry harder lmaooooo ~

smile and thats life are my go-to songs if i gotta cheer tf up

danger sign = neither works

he looks so soft after his “date”🥺🥺🥺

“thats life” yeah but murray you dont even leave the studio so how do you know????

ngl arthur’s anger scares me.

anyone so much as raise their voice at me and i’ll cry really bad and i will shut myself away for the rest of the day and quiet anger terrifies me so his banging abt in the kitchen would freak me tf out😲

angry bb😭

he controls his anger so fast though omgggg ~

that soft please sends me

idk where it sends me lmao

down below probably

BARE FACED CARNIVAL OMG THIS SCENE IS SO CUTE

I LOVE THE MATCHING COLOURS ON ARTHUR AND BRUCE TOO ???

okay but the implication that arthur always carries a clown nose on him is🥺🥺🥺

hes such a good clown im?????

lmao im enjoying the show more than bruce is skskskk

arthur’s lil chuckle makes me🥺

his HUMMING im??? soft?????

his brows are so strong and dark omggg ~ he’s so beautiful

OKAY i’ll be honest i’ve seen this alfred/bruce scene and the thomas bathroom scene later on and the penny flashback scene a 100 times and i still dont fucking understand what did or didnt happen regarding arthur’s parentage im????

ive seen interpretations to say he is thomas’ son and some to say he isnt and i still cant decide so? im stupid i guess 🙃

“a clown thing?” the s a s s

“it’s exit only” yeah so’s my ass🙃

if i was there in the hospital room i woulda turned that tv off as soon as i realised what clip was gonna play

murray’s cruelty is d i s g u s t i n g

lmao hes an asshole

arthurs lil clap from joyyyyy ~ 🥺🥺🥺

did i say murray???

i meant m u r r a t

🙃🙃🙃

sneaky baby

wayne hall either has super bad security or arthurs v quick on his feet

🤔🤔🤔🤔

he looks so good in red omggg ~

f o r e s h a d o w i n g

arthurs smile when hes watching chaplin is how he smiles when we all gush to each other abt him and ourselves!!!

hes so cuuuuuute🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

“told me what”

ohhhh honey🥺🥺 im so sorry. “crazy” is a trigger word for arthur; it made him start laughing in the bathroom with thomas

“touch my son again ill fucking kill you” yeah?? touch my arthur again and i’ll fucking kill you🙃🙃🙃🙃

^^^ that ones a joke do not come at me

the clerk in arkham was nice to arthur - he, gary and sophie are the good gothamites.

none of it was enough to stop his descent into joker, though, and i’d even say it was too late right at the beginning of the film, too...

his sock puppet thingy “they cut all those” is such a Joker thing to doooo ~

the way arthur’s laughing in the hall at arkham turns into sobbing is gut-wrenching omg the poor thing😭

i wanna hug him and protect him and help him to process this in a healthy way

sweetheart, if i could take all of your pain and put it onto me... i so would. i’d do it in a heartbeat.

i wanna get you into a hot shower, make you some food and sit and listen to you. we can either sit in silence or you can talk to me, my love, and you will be heard and understood and loved.

“i had a bad day”

IT’S OKAY I DIDNT NEED MY HEART ANYWAY OMG YOU POOR SWEET INNOCENT THING IM LOVE YOU🥺💔

THAT ENTIRE LATE NIGHT SCENE LAUGH/SOBBING GOT ME -

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i just wanna hold you and protect you and help you and love you

I’m so fucking sorry, darling. i wish i could take it all away from you

“i havent been happy one minute of my entire fucking life”

NO ONE SHOULD LOOK THAT ANGELIC AFTER COMMITING MATRICIDE IM????

get

that

fucking

gun

away

from

your

face

boi dont test me ill fucking go feral or - no, tell you what, i’ll point the gun at me and see how you like it

im looking respectfully at the green speckled undies scene....👀👀👀

“coming” 😏😏😏

“my mum died im celebrating” and “i stopped taking my medication” and you STILL stayed in the apartment with Arthur????? dudes those are 🚨🚨🚨 signs

woe betide anyone who underestimates arthur fleck lmaoooo

randalls death scene makes me laugh every time omg i feel so vindictive

get WRECKED

i wanna lick the blood off his face. i really want to

ngl i think i have a blood kink...

“dont look just go” ME WITH MY ACNE WHEN I SEE IT IN THE MIRROR 😂😂😂😂

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

ASDFGHJKL

ERIKA.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERRRRRR

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 MY BABY MY MAN OMG THERE HE IS IM CRY???????😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺

my mind is literally blank rn im just staring and crying and smiling so hard my face hurts????? im love him so so so so much

sweet thing’s so used to pain he gets HIT BY A CAR AND KEEPS GOING????

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

hghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

euirrrrrrgkjbgkfbirsghigrbugr

*incoherent keyboardsmash to portray utter love*

ohhh baby no dont cry. oh honey😭 i wanna sit on your lap and kiss your tears away

“i love dr sally”

you have a WIFE at home

“DO YOU REMEMBER?” THAT WAS YOUR CUE TO APOLOGISE LMAO GET FUCKED MURRAT

he’s so CUTE

omgggg ~

my hearts gonna give out its SQUEEZING SO HARD IT HURTS

YOU MOCK THEM, BABY!!! THEY GOT IT COMING

“i wanna get it right” hes so passionate

my comments have deceased in number bc im just too starstruck and in love to even think clearly lmao

jokers all i know rn and this is the most peaceful ive felt in WEEKS

im sobbing

ugh fuck this hurts so BAD

youre speaking the truth, darling. im so so proud of you and i love you so much

“THEY COULDNT CARRY A TUNE TO SAVE THEIR LIVES” LMAO INSIDE JOKESSS

literally sobbing right now ugh what the fuck youre in so much pain and in the middle of a breakdown and no one saw you

ugh baby im so sorry, you deserve so much better

you tried so hard and you were gonna fall no matter what

IN THE WHITE ROOM

“hi” baby they cant hear you but im COOING 🥺🥺🥺🥺

you’re so fucking cute

say the word and ill burn gotham to the fucking ground for you

i wanna sit atop that car and cradle your head in my lap and wipe the blood off your face and help you stand up and be there for you and and and😭😭😭😭😭😭 i love you so so so much.

i’d be so much worse off without you in my life. you brought a splash of colour which has never dimmed or faded. it never will.

b l o o d s m i l e

im wearing my inside on the outside now and it still hurts

angel💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i see you and your pain. i love you.

i see you, angel.

his genuine laughter is🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

that cute lil “ksksks” he does im🥺🥺🥺

i always laugh with him omg the two of us are laughing together ugh its the closest i will ever get to sharing in his joy

t h a t ‘s l i f e

i love the hallway daaaaaaaaaaaaaance ~

them hips dont lie😉😉😉

i love you i love you i love you i love you omg the sun’s like a halo ugh i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you im singing along to thats life while i type out how much i love you at 220am lmaooooo ~

i l o v e y o u

#erileck #<- ref tag #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #erika talks

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progressivestupidity · 5 years ago

Text

IZ week 2020

so i wasn’t gonna do this because I didn’t think the prompts were very good for writing to, but I remembered the last day’s prompt was “role swap” so I decided to do something small and quick for it. this is all 7 days in one post. the first and last ones are drabbles and one of them is an au idea

@invader-zim-week here u go!!!

Day 1. Angst or Fluff

Zim’s denial skills are god tier, but even they have their limits.

Drabble. I think this is the turning point for my eventual found family au

“When are you going to get it through your thick head that the Tallests aren’t coming?” Dib flings his arms out wide in his exasperation

“They’re just…!” Zim fumbles a bit, clenching and unclenching his fists. “The Armada is a million light years away! It takes time to travel that far, obviously. It took me six of your months to get here from Conventia and the Massive is further away from here now than that. They’ll come! You’ll see! And then you’ll be sorry!” Zim’s face is drawn tight. He’s tense all over, shoulders drawn up to his jaw, antennae pressed flat to his head, and normally Dib prides himself on reading Zim like an open book, but he’s too far gone in his own annoyance to see the warning signs.

It’s because he doesn’t see these red flags that Dib proceeds to stick his own foot in his mouth with his next words. “Maybe if you weren’t such an idiot and opened your eyes, you’d see the truth—that they dumped you here to get rid of you.”

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” Zim explodes, planting his tiny hands in Dib’s chest and shoving. The boy lands painfully on his ass. “I’m not stupid, Dib.” His name is spat like an insult. “I know they don’t care about me! Why do you think I try so hard?”

Dib gapes at Zim, looking up at him for once, stunned into silence. “I.” He swallows. “You know?”

“Of course, I know.” Zim’s voice is a low hiss and his eyes are narrowed to slits. “You don’t get banished and then just get over it. You don’t get put on trial to defend your life, forced to relive your worse mistakes, and get sentenced to death, only to be saved by freak miracle, and never acknowledge it happened.” Zim takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest. Dib supposes he means for it to look intimidating, but it looks more like he’s holding himself together. “I’ve always known.”

“Why do you try so hard then? If you’ve always known there was no point?” Dib has to ask, has to know, has to hear the words from Zim’s own mouth.

Zim purses his lips and turns away. “There was always a point.” He falls silent for a moment, one antenna twitching up a bit in thought. “I just… I thought if I was just a little better, if I accomplished something important for once, that… I don’t know, that maybe I’d.” He pauses and grits his teeth. “Maybe if I actually managed to take over this filthy planet I’d be worth something for once.”

Day 2. Be Gay Do Crime (LGBTQA+ headcannons)

Dib is bi/pan/demi-ro, Gaz is lesbian, Zim is ace/demi-ro

Headcanons.

Dib seems like the kind of guy that would both take whatever kind of relationship he could get, but also appreciate it. Dib isn’t afraid to work for what he wants and isn’t afraid of things that are “not normal” so I see him being the type to not care about the gender of whoever he eventually decides to date. However, because Dib’s been burned in the past, he would need a deep and sincere emotional relationship to see someone as a potential romantic partner.

Gaz is just a big lesbian. Girls, man.

Zim is ace all the way baby!!! He’s just not interested, and sure, part of that is me projecting, but it just feels right for Zim to just… not care. He has no interest and doesn’t care for sexual attraction regardless of whether or not Irkens do/can/will have sex or not. On the other hand, Zim has expressed a softer side before and I can see him being able to maybe eventually develop romantic feelings for someone if he actually manages to get close enough to them for those kinds of feelings to even emerge. It would take a lot of time and a deep, meaningful friendship, but Zim has shown he’s capable of love. He just has to let himself feel it.

Day 3. Fandom Appreciation

Found family fuck yeah

Headcanons.

I’m still in the process of thinking about how I wanna go about my found family au so here’s just some initial ideas

After ETF, Zim self isolates for a bit. The florpus hole was his Last Ditch Effort plan and had it succeeded, he knew he would have been destroyed too. He was okay with it. He had made peace with it. However, it failed, and now he’s forced to reflect on said failure

The Massive doesn’t escape the florpus. They’re gone, completely. If they the ship does manage to get out, it’s not in one piece

I initially couldn’t decide if The Trial should come Before ETF or After but I think im gonna say before so the Massive doesn’t have to come back lmao

Before too long, Zim jumps back into the planning/scheming swing of things, but his ideas are never more than petty crimes and being a huge annoyance

Dib gets really annoyed with him and they have a big argument

Zim finally admits to knowing of his own Defectiveness

Dib reluctantly feels bad for him and backs off a bit to let Zim have his space

Zim, however, sees this as a betrayal and redoubles his efforts to get his attention

Somewhere along the way, Skoodge comes back and Zim backs off of Dib a bit, having someone else to focus attention on

Dib eventually begins to offer Zim his hand in friendship (phrased as a truce at first) and they finally make steps towards getting along

They realize they actually really like being friends

Zim eventually realizes that he’s made a life for himself, outside of the Empire

Eventually Zim, Skoodge, GIR, Minimoose, Dib, and Gaz form their own little family and explore space and hunt cryptids

(I love cryptid hunter and space exploration aus holy shit)

Day 4. If IZ had a different setting/time period

Cyberpunk??? Sure

Potential idea maybe.

Cyberpunk dystopian future

Aliens and humans intermingle, both on and off Earth

The Irken Empire has gotten bigger

Technology is advanced and cybernetics are widely known/produced

Idk man I don’t know a lot about cyberpunk, maybe this should be more for the aesthetic

Day 5. Aesthetic

Big shrug man idk

Headcanons, thoughts.

I’m a big fan of fashion Zim, and whenever I get the chance I give him clothes that are both cute and comfortable

Galaxy print leggings are a personal favorite of mine to give him

One time I wrote a little ficlet/oneshot where he wore a skirt. I should publish that some day

Uhhhhhh okay so. Dib has veeeeeery big early 2000s emo/punk vibes tbh

Scene kid GIR always makes me laugh

Gaz could pull off pastel goth like no one’s business

I’ve been here long enough to witness emo/scene hair wig Zim and his eventual fall lmfao

Pretty much everyone that redesigned them back in the day gave Zim emo kid hair that fall perfectly over one eye it was WILD

Day 6. What if IZ was a different Genre?

Uhhhh does “fantasy instead of scifi” count?

Potential idea maybe. (oops it ended up being a fantasy/modern magic au haha ooooops)

Instead of being an alien, I had the idea of, maybeeeeee Irkens are like. Elves maybe, or perhaps some kind of fae. (I don’t know much about fae, oops)

Okay bear with me here, this is all coming together in real time.

The Irkens (which is what I’m gonna call their clan or faction or subrace or whatever) still want to be the rulers or something over the humans/other mystical beings. This world of magic is hidden from humans and they live blissfully unaware. There are invaders all over the place, using magic and glamors to trick humans into thinking they’re also humans. Zim is one such invader and just to happens to end up in Dib’s town, whereupon he enrolls in Dib’s school, pretending to be a transfer student.

I have no idea why or how the Irkens invade or what methods they use, but since my biggest experience with elves is through DND, I’m going to say they’re functionally similar to certain DND elf races.

So anyway, Zim ends up in Dib’s class and Zim’s glamor just Doesn’t Work on Dib for whatever reason (maybe Dib passed his Wisdom saving throw while literally everyone else failed, idk) and so Dib can immediately see Zim for what he is.

Dib is still into paranormal type stuff, though in his world, he’s less about cryptids and aliens and more about the magical species/world(s) that he KNOWS exists. His big goal in his au is similar to canon in that he wants to expose it all for recognition and love from his father.

Zim, meanwhile, he just wants to prove himself, just like canon. I can’t decide how I want the Irken hierarchy to go in this au—that’s something to think about later, when I have more time—but whatever it is, Zim is either a) not very good at it, b) not suited for it, c) ridiculed for not fitting in to it, or d) a combination of any or all of these things. (or secret option e) he rejects it but has no where else to go. On the other hand, it maybe be none of these things.)

GIR is here too though he’s probably not a robot. Maybe he’s another kind of magical being, or, hell, maybe he’s just Zim’s little brother. I’d be okay with that.

Gaz can also see through glamors but she just doesn’t care. Tak shows up at some point to get revenge, and Skoodge also shows up at some point to stay with Zim and be his friend.

Zim is bad at blending in at first, but he eventually Does get better, since he’s not totally isolated from other Irkens here and he also doesn’t Look like an alien.

(I’m thinkin’ elves in this au look Mostly human but with a few differences. Since I’m biased and this is MY fantasy world, damnit, elves are just. Really Pretty. Ethereal and elegant and graceful (for the most part—there are always exceptions) and they’re also great at magic. Maybe Zim isn’t all that great at magic, I dunno. I’ll figure something out.)

This ended up being less of a genre change and more of a whole ass au, lol oops

Day 7. Role swap

Chanting: human zim au human zim au human zim au human zi

Drabble. This is for an ongoing species swap au that i’ve had in development for the last few years. i haven’t posted anything for it yet, but I’ve thought about it a lot

Dib freezes as Zim points the plastic water gun at his head. Zim’s eyes are narrowed, lips pursed, and he adjusts his grip almost nervously. Behind him, Gir is holding a bucket full of water balloons and a pair of neon green star shaped sunglasses. It’d be cute if Dib wasn’t aware of how painful Earth water is to his Irken skin.

Zim finally lowers his gun slightly. “I want some answers, alien.” He looks Dib over with critical eyes. “Who are you really, and why are you here?” He reaches back and Gir hands him a water balloon with a big smile. “And you better tell the truth or I’ll bust this over your big head.”

Dib grimaces and watches the balloon. “My name Dib, and I’m a scientist. I’m an Irken, from Irk, and I’m here to learn more about life on this planet.” He holds his hands up, hoping to placate the human gesture for surrender. “I’m not here to harm you or anyone else, promise.”

Zim huffs. “Yeah right. I bet you just came here to laugh at the locals.” He puts on a mocking voice and waves the gun and balloon as he speaks. “‘Stupid, stinking humans. They can’t even travel beyond their own moon, yet. What morons. I bet they descended from pigs with how horrible and stupid they are.’” He jams the gun against Dib’s chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Dib bites his lower lip and looks away. He can’t deny he hasn’t thought something similar since arriving on Earth, but Zim didn’t have to be so crude and blunt about it.

The two are at a standoff for almost a minute before Zim blows out a long sigh and steps back. He turns to put the balloon back in the bucket, gives Gir a pat on the head, and shoots Dib one last glare. “Stay away from me, Dib. I have enough problems to deal with without having to worry about whether or not it’s safe for my brother to go to school or if I need to watch my back while walking my dog.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Dib says, a little put out.

Zim scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I know better than to believe it.” He turns and tries to smile at Gir but it comes out a little twisted and sad. “C’mon Gir. Let’s go home and get Minimoose and take him to that dog park you like so much.”

Gir gasps and lets out a cheer. “Can we go get ice cream afterwards?”

Zim gives a little laugh, smile turning a bit more genuine. “Yeah, sounds good.”

As they walk away Dib can’t help but wonder why he ever thought Zim was an Irken himself.

#izweek2020 #invader zim #invader zim week #zim #dib #role swap #species swap #iz fantasy au #to be named later #i had nooooo idea how to write about the aesthetics prompt #it really isnt a good writing prompt #tho it's given some FANTASTIC art #i wasnt gonna do this at all bc the prompts arent very writer friendly #but i wrote the angst thing and then i wanted to write some stuff for the role swap #and now here we are #enjoy!!!#mine #kiera writes fics

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theoutcastedartist · 5 years ago

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No new art really, if you've seen my original post on the MHA amino then you know where this is fucking going. Right down to Angstville because for some reason I'm obsessed with hurting my favorite Goth Jesus. You'd think I'd talk about my "Stain's Redemption" AU first since I've mentioned it but hahahaha

Y o u w e r e w r o n g ;´)

I straight up just copied and pasted my original post because I'm lazy but I REALLY wanted to share this with Tumblr lmao

Warning for (potential) manga spoilersss

Alrighty sinners, Let's get to the post itself then. Shall we?

·············

So let me just address something real quick about how I feel about the latest chapters of the MHA manga:

Seeing Aizawa cry has to be the most heart breaking thing I've seen in MHA (outside of the whole deal with Eri, sweet baby child ;-;)

And I completely FLIPPED when it was revealed that Shirakumo was BASICALLY turned into Kurogiri and just I'M CRYING--Cloud Angel Baby NOOOOOO!!!

They all deserved better than this T-T

Anywho enough about my grieving over fictional characters, let's talk about my AU, inspired by these recent chapters. Note that I'm a terrible writer. I guess this also includes a snippet of what I plan to write for this AU since it transitions from explanation to literature at some point just because I was kinda bored. Imma let you know right now that I'm a shit writer so uuuuh bear with me.

---------

The Reticent AU takes place in an Alternate Universe where Shirakumo is ALIVE and separate from Kurogiri. Instead of Loud Cloud being turned into a Nomu, Eraserhead is turned into one. His appearance for the most part remains the same, minus the scars all over his body, including around the neck, from experimentation.

He barely speaks due to pain he feels when he does talk and has no recollection of his life before being a Nomu, not even his own name. He manages to escape the League of Villains at some point and "befriends" the Hero Killer: Stain, or well more like the other way around (only because I find Stain befriending an emotionless mute to be funny). He finds Stain's views of false hero-hood and admiration for All Might quite contradictory yet amusing and lets him live during their first encounter.

It is rather hard to say whether he is a villain or a vigilante. He'll kill only if necessary but his intentions and motivations are unknown. He despises All Might as the Symbol of Peace. It gives false hope to the people as well as a false sense of security. He found it completely revolting. Aizawa did believe in good people, but All Might isn't one of them in his books. Pretty much considered one only because he's hanging around with Stain.

He never gave himself a name, nor did he care all that much for it, it was Stain who dubbed him with the alias "Reticent", meaning not revealing one's thoughts or feelings readily. He was never one for being open for as long as he could remember.

It's rather fitting, so Reticent keeps the given name.

·············

* I didn't know Shirakumo was tan, not white before I made the art (forgive me)

Oboro Shirakumo A.K.A Loud Cloud is currently the homeroom teacher of our beloved Class 1-A and best friend of our resident screaming banana, Present Mic. They have given up on their dream to start an agency due to the loss of their closest friend from high school. Fifteen years ago when they were still students at UA, Shota Aizawa had gone missing and authorities concluded that he was dead. It was such a heartbreak to Shirakumo and Yamada, that hurt never fully healed.

Shirakumo is still a friendly and nurturing spirit at heart, but not as open with his feelings anymore. He's more reserved with his thoughts and feelings. He's a reticent person.

He takes an instant liking to Ejirou Kirishima and Hitoshi Shinso. Kirishima's friendship with the explosive Katsuki Bakugou reminds him of his friendship with Shota. Their personalities seemed so different, yet their bond had remained solid and strong. As for Shinso, the purple haired teen reminded him of his old friend. He could see the growing potential in these two and takes them both under his wing. The three of them train together outside of school and the Kirishima and Shinso form a close friendship with each other along with their sensei. Both children are like sons to Shirakumo, he thinks that Shota would like them too if he were still here.

·············

So... Izuku Midoriya, the "villain magnet" of class 1-A, ended up finding himself standing face-to-face with the Hero Killer: Stain and... his partner? The news never reported anything on him having a partner. How strange. Either Stain's partner is a very recent addition or this guy was really good at covering his own tracks.

"Stain, leave them be. They are just mere children. Killing them would serve no purpose to your cause. I wouldn't waste your time with Native either. "

Midoriya grimaced at the sore and raspy voice. It sounded painful, but he could hear the underlying threat. The Hero Killer sighed and backed off from Iida's paralyzed body.

The two villains left before Todoroki had arrived.

"I think that's the first time I've ever seen you smile."

Agakuro sat down next to Reticent, who was currently petting a stray cat, and offered him some fruit. The smaller man hummed quietly and took a few slices of apple. Both men sat quietly with the soft purring of the stray.

"I've been meaning to ask, what is your quirk exactly? You can erase quirks, but you can also manipulate basic elements and the blood in people's bodies."

Reticent signed, 'I have more than one.'

"More than one quirk?" Stain cocked an eyebrow.

Reticent nodded and quietly spoke, "Nomu."

"I've heard about their appearances here in Hosu. They are these large looking creatures with their brains exposed. You sure as hell don't look like one of 'em." Agakuro mused as he chewed on some cantaloupe. His friend was making his signals again.

I was suppose to be a more perfected Nomu. All for One took care of my progress himself.'

"Is that why you have so many..."

'Yes.'

·············

"Principal Nezu?" Shirakumo and Yamada stood in the white creature's office. Both men wondering why they were called to see him.

"Ah Loud Cloud and Present Mic! I apologize for pulling you out of your classes, but it seems you both are being called to assist Gran Torino with something he found." Nezu explained. The two men in the room looked at each other confused.

"What does he need us for?"

"Well it seems that they have another one of those Nomus in custody. I think you may remember the name Shota Aizawa?"

·············

Shirakumo was BEYOND annoyed about the situation. It must be a mistake. Their old friend was not some gruesome quirk experiment accompanying the Hero Killer. Shota Aizawa wanted to be a hero, despite feeling that he was inadequate for such due to the nature of his quirk. It has to be a mistake.

"How much longer-"

"Calm down will you! I'm frustrated about this too. There's no way it could be him, but... who knows."

They arrived at the police station withing a few minutes and walk inside. They see Gran Torino standing there waiting for them. They follow him to where Tsukauchi is finishing up with questioning the person inside. Looking through the window, Shirakumo and Yamada's eyes widen with disbelief. The other person looked just like...

"Ah Present Mic, Loud Cloud. Thank you for arriving on such short notice. I know you are both very busy men."

The two Pro-Heros turn to the detective as he stepped out of the interrogation room. Present Mic appeared alarmed and Shirakumo just looked... mad.

"Well it appears that he doesn't remember anything before being experimented on. We have a case of amnesia on our hands."

Shirakumo practically growled,"Experimented on? What the hell are you going on about detective!?" Why was Tsukauchi being so damn vague?

"That man in there is indeed Shota Aizawa. His base quirk of Erasure is still there and DNA results confirm this. From what I'm gathering, fifteen years ago he was kidnapped and had been subjected to illegal drug testing as well as having multiple quirks forced into his body. He's a more sophisticated Nomu it seems."

"More 'sophisticated'? What stopped him from having brains popping out of his skull like all the others we've seen?" The voice hero questioned. Something wasn't adding up here.

"All for One..."

The other three men became tense.

"Isn't... Isn't that the villain All Might fought at Kamino Ward?"

"According to him, it seems that All for One was the one who did this to him personally, there was extra care in your friend's 'recreation'. As to what his added quirks are, we're not sure yet of what they are or even of how many."

Gran Torino turned to the younger men,"We were hoping that you two would talk to him. Maybe to help trigger any memories from before his disappearance."

"So what? You think the 'power of friendship' is going to magically bring back his memories?" Shirakumo scoffed at how ridiculous that would actually be.

"No, but miracles do happen. I've seen many things during my time. They are rare, but they happen."

"Shirakumo," Present Mic started, "if there is even a slim possibility of getting Sho's memories back, shouldn't we at least try? For him?"

Shirakumo sighed at his words, "Fine. For Shota's sake."

The two younger men walk inside.

--------

"Shota?"

'Who were they talking about? Is that his name?'

After the detective had left the room, two other men had walked in. He assumed they were Pros based on the costumes. No normal person dressed in THAT much leather (referring to Present Mic).

"Do you... remember us, Shota? Hizashi and I?"

It looks like they ARE talking to him. He shook his head no. This was the first time he has seen these two men. The way they were looking at him made him uncomfortable.

"Sho...ta? Is... that my name?"

The two men standing winced at his croaking voice. In all honesty, he would sign, but he had no clue if these two even knew sign language. So he just resorted to talking.

"Do you remember your own name?"

"No."

"Do you... remember us?"

The raven haired man shook his head, 'No.'

"Is... Shota my name? Do you know me? I'm sorry I- I'm just... so confused."

His voice was so raspy and weak. Black hair covered the scar under his eye. Hizashi and Oboro wore sad looks on their faces at the sound. The taller of the two, Oboro, knelt down by the man's knees.

"Yes. We do know you. Your name is Shota Aizawa. You were once a member of UA's class 2-A about fifteen years ago." Oboro started as he gently pried one of Shota's hands from the yellow blanket the officers gave him. His arm was covered in scars... like his legs. God only knows what they did to him all those years. Hizashi just observed their movements, unsure of what to do he added on to what Shirakumo said.

"You love cats and taking naps, you were the most rational one out of the three of us. All three of us had dreams of starting an agency together..."

The two pro-heros continued talking for what felt like hours. Shota listened to every word as they recounted their old adventures from highschool. Maybe with enough luck, they could help Shota get him memory back. Shirakumo was starting to think that the raven wasn't ever getting his old memories back until...

"Sushi... I- We had a cat named Sushi?"

Hizashi had flung himself so fast to Shota as he held onto him tightly and cried. Shirakumo also had a tear-streaked face, but he held a blinding smile as he watched Shota awkwardly pat the blond's back.

Miracles do happen.

More of this angst shit coming soon ;)

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #298

“i don’t like what i am becoming / wish i could just feel something”

Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Do you wear necklaces or earrings more? Just my tragus piercing, really. I only ever wear a necklace sometimes if I'm taking a "nice" picture. Rings or bracelets? I currently don't wear any bracelets, but I do always have one ring on. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Is your current crush younger than you? By just a couple years. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? Yes; he's very tan, especially his arms from being a mailman. Ranch or barbeque sunflower seeds? I don't like sunflower seeds. Do you know the first five books of the Bible in order? No. Do you have a pet fish? Nah, they're not my thing. Do you believe being gay is a choice or a "disorder"? Neither; I believe it's a genetic mutation. It defies biology and the very motive for life, but I always say that a mutation does not, in any way, equate to "wrong." I am extremely adamantly pro-gay rights and bisexual myself, so I can't shit-talk it. What are some of your favourite sounds? Crunching leaves, rain gently tapping on windows, windchimes, birdsong... mainly nature sounds. There are others, I'm just blanking right now. Are you a warm weather or cold weather person? Cold, 100%. What time do you wake up? What for? This spans over a massive gap, honestly... I can wake up as early as 5 or as late as 9:30. Most often, it's pretty early, and I call that my "trial" of being awake, lol... because I will almost without fail go back to sleep for a couple more hours. Hell, that happens even if I sleep on the later side. Do you ever listen to music to fall asleep to? I used to do that in middle and maybe some of high school, I think; I'd fall asleep with my iPod on and earbuds in. I haven't done that in a very long time, though. Could you spend the rest of your life with someone who had bad taste in music? ... Yes? Their taste in music has nothing to do with them as a person???? Do you still talk to the person you fell hardest for? No, and it's best I don't. Have you ever wanted to get drunk and get your mind off everything? Yes, and that's how I found out I'm far from a lightweight. I wasn't going to drink more than I actually wanted to drink just to get wasted. Did you love playing hide and seek as a kid? Yeah. Who is the last child you held? My youngest niece. Have you ever woken up not knowing where you were? Maybe for a few moments after my surgery? I don't really recall. When is the last time you made the wrong choice in anything? Every fucking day when I decide what to do with my time. What is the most interesting thing in the room you are in? My snake, I guess. She's a champagne morph ball python. When washing your hands, do you wet your hands or put soap on first? I put on soap first. When was the hardest you ever cried? What was the circumstance? Probably when Mom literally dragged me home after I tried to walk to Jason's to talk the night of the breakup. I lost my fucking mind. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet? I don't think I have any. Coke or Pepsi? Coke. I hate Pepsi. What is better: cute smile, or amazing eyes? A cute smile. What song are you listening to? "Drilled a Wire Through My Cheek" by Blue October is on currently. Name your best friend(s): Sara. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nope. Last night you felt? I wasn't suicidal, but still kinda wanted to die lmao. Do you still watch Disney channel? No. How do you like your eggs? I only enjoy them scrambled, and preferably with cheese. What’s your all-time favorite song? "False Flags" by Massive Attack. If you could be any TV character, who would you be and why? Idk, I don't watch TV enough. Maybe Donna from That '70s Show. Very strong and independent, outspoken, and not to mention she has great taste. I find her to be a good female character to look up to. Do you ever come up with really good ideas for stories or movies? Do you do anything with them? Yeah; I'll try to integrate them into RP characters and plots. What sort of things do you post on your Tumblr? Vintage photos, screen caps, girly things? It's a Markiplier cesspit lmao. Sometimes I'll reblog shit I find funny. I've been very inactive on it, though. Have you ever had a dream that you couldn’t shake, even for days after you woke up? Oh yes. When was the last time you felt like a nuisance, or unwanted? Recently, I'm sure. When was the last time your dreams were crushed, or at least hindered? I dunno. How’s school going? I'm not in school. Are you angry at anyone right now? Myself. The last person to say they loved you? Mom. When is the last time you laughed hard? Hard? I'm really not sure. Are there any words on your shirt? No, it's just a blank black tank. Does it take a lot to make you cry? NOPE. Do you tell your parents everything? No. Do you get bored easily? I'm bored to the point of thinking being dead would be more fun at some point almost every day. I have anhedonia badly. I'm honestly starting to think I've over-medicated to a numbing degree so am trying to wean off some things. Have you ever burned someone's picture? No. How long was your last nap? Maybe three hours? I was really, really tired, though. Can you name the last time you felt happy? Probably when Sara and I talk-talked for the first time in a while. When was the last time you played with sidewalk chalk? Oh, I have zero clue. Probably not since I was a kid. Do you have friends obsessed with World of Warcraft? Bro wtf don't @ me. Have you ever punched a hole in the wall? No. Have you ever told someone you hated them? The only time I've seriously said that was to my dad before we reconciled after the divorce. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to? I actually don't remember... Favorite thing to do on Facebook? See The Memes. Do you wear flip flops, regardless of weather, all the time? I SAID don't @ me. What is in store for your future? I both do and don't want to know. Have you ever seen a live bat? Yeah. I adore bats. Do you chew on straws? No. Do you have any trophies? Yeah. Who’s the last person that creeped you out? Some guy who walked into the store I was at with Mom, continuously looking back and forth. Would you believe an ex if she/he said they love you? Well, that would depend on the person. Have you ever been kissed in the rain? Yeah. Anything exciting happening soon? My half-sister and her kids are visiting tomorrow and staying for a few days. It's a surprise for Mom. Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? You could say these surveys kinda are. I don't have a designated "diary," though. When was the last time you took a painkiller? What was it for and did it work? I had womanly issues a few days back, and yeah, it helped. Have you ever had to go and rescue someone because their car broke down? When was the last time that happened? I mean, I've driven /with/ Mom to do so. I myself don't drive. What’s one sweet/candy you miss from your childhood? Is this item something you can still buy or has it been discontinued? Y'all remember Baby Bottle Pops??? 'Cuz I do, and I love those fuckin things. I still see them sometimes in gas stations. When was the last time you used some kind of moisturiser? A few days back for my hands. They were painfully dry. If you’re under lockdown/stay at home orders at the moment, are you struggling or managing okay? A bitch is s t r u g g l i n g. Has anything positive come out of the pandemic for you? Fuck no. Do you wear a watch? Is it analogue/digital? Does it it have things like a step-counter in it? No. Do you have any gifts from Christmas that you still haven’t opened or used? Not used, yes. Well, then some things are still in their boxes, but they're unwrapped. Do you know how to tie a tie? If so, who taught you? No. Who was your last missed call from? Did you ring that person back? Some number I didn't recognize, so no. When was the last time you had some kind of problem with your internet connection? Is this something that happens often? A few days back. It has occasional instances where it'll go out but come back on shortly. Do you have a favourite celebrity chef? No. Do you prefer pizza or pasta? Pizza. Have you ever volunteered anywhere before? What was the reason behind doing so? Once at PetSmart when they had dogs to adopt out, which was for school volunteer hours. I spent time with them, giving them attention and taking them outside. I also had two other animal-related volunteer days, but each was only a few hours because my fucking weak-ass body couldn't handle them. Have you ever been truly obsessed with something? What was it and how did you come to feel that way? I have an incredibly obsessive personality; I could probably name near on a dozen or so things I've been genuinely obsessed with. I don't know what it means to love in moderation. Some are/were pleasant obsessions, some aren't/weren't. Does it bother you when people turn up at your house without asking or waiting to be invited? Yes. Are you taller or shorter than average height? I'm the average for an American woman. Do you have any family members whose beliefs or ways of life completely embarrass you? YUP YUP YUP YUP. Are you scared of heights? Yes. When was the last time you lost something of great sentimental value? Did you ever end up finding it again? I don't know. Have you ever injured anyone in self-defense? No. What food do you find to be the most filling? Is this something you eat a lot of? In relation to its portion sizes, oatmeal or eggs. I can't have a whole lot of either. I wouldn't say I eat either a lot, but oatmeal is more common. Have you ever heard people talking badly about you behind your back? Did you confront them about it? Yes, and in at least two instances. Do you consider “home” to be the place you were born, or is it somewhere you create for yourself? I consider it to be my childhood home; not the one I was actually born in, but only because I was way too young to remember and we only lived there like, maybe two years into my life. Have you ever experienced having to leave your home due to a fire, or due to the threat of fire? No, thankfully. When was the last time you felt you were in a dangerous situation? When we had a serious tornado warning Christmas Eve. Yes. In winter. Are there any superstitions that you believe in? Which ones and what are your reasons for doing so? No. Are there any series of books/films that you never finished - either because you got bored of waiting or just lost interest? Oh, I'm sure. I Wouldn't say I lost interest in a lot though, I just wasn't interested enough, like for The Hunger Games. Which theme park is your favorite? I haven't been to nearly enough to know. Like, just one. Do you eat healthy? I try to be, at least. Though I've been doing very poorly about it lately because I'm a emotional goddamn eater and am having a very hard time. Do/did your parents fight often? They're divorced for a reason. Do YOU fight with them often? No. Would you say that you're respectful? I hope so. Are you a fan of Green Day? Yeah, I love them. Would you rather have 4 kids at one time or never have a kid? Jesus Christ, never. I don't want any anyway. Do you think 'friends with benefits' relationships really ever work? No. Do you or have you ever known a drug addict? Yes. Do you turn off the water while brushing your teeth or leave it on? I always turn it off. No reason to waste it. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Lots, if you include my half-siblings. Are caterpillars more cute or disgusting? I tend to find them cute. What's your homepage when you bring up the internet? Google. Was the last book you read for fun or was it for some type of assignment? It was for fun. Have you ever dated someone you met online? Yes. Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? Depends on who's asking. Do you own any band tees? Oh, I have lots. Off the top of my head, some that I frequently wear are Metallica, Otep, and Korn. Do you know someone who wears a wig? No. Have you ever kissed someone under fireworks? I don't think so. What kind of dressing do you eat on your salad, if any? I strongly prefer the Olive Garden kind, but I also enjoy ranch. What genre of music do you listen to the most? Metal of some sort. Have you ever dated someone who was way overprotective of you? No. Do you personally know any cops? No. How many different colleges have you gone to? Three. How much stress can you handle? Not much at all. How confident are you in achieving your dreams? I ain't got the slightest clue by this point in my life. What is one thing you thought you’d never do but have done or are doing? There's a lot of things, most bad, some good. Do you have to take medication for any mental illness? A lot. Do you like looking at pictures? It depends on what's in them. Specifically pictures from my past, that's usually a big no. Do you believe the dead can have connections with the living? I guess in very vague ways. Which family member do you get along with the most? Well, define "get along with." I by far have the strongest relationship with my mom, but we fight sometimes. As for who I stay on the most stable ground with, that's probably my dad. Would you ever be able to become a vegan? I know I couldn't, but I'd love to. How did you meet your newest friend? Who even IS my newest friend... Have you ever watched the show Teen Mom? What did you think about it? No, and I think it's an awful fucking idea for a television show. Put a spotlight on and money into teen pregnancy, yeah, that's a genius plan. Are you old enough to remember MySpace? Yeah. Do you think you’ll be a good mother/father? I wouldn't be. Do you have trouble deleting your text messages? I don't need to. Is there something that you haven’t told anyone that you actually would like to tell someone? No. Have you ever been called a tease? Yeah. Do people ever make fun of your religion or lack thereof? No. Do you say/do things a lot for shock effect? No? What was the last compliment you gave a guy? I probably told my nephew Ryder he was a good brother. Was one of your grandpas in a war? Maybe? Idk. I never knew either well at all. Have you screamed in a pillow before? Yes. What do you like more, acoustic or electric? Electric. Have you ever ordered something off a commercial on television? No. What's worse, having someone mad or disappointed in you? Disappointed. Do you still consider Pluto a planet? Yes. Didn't they reinstate it as one, anyway? Right now, are you at a high, leveled, or low point? What's lower than "low?"

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''i am machine'' by three days grace

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stevesharrlngtons · 6 years ago

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120 steve

he’s pampering me, let him be

not a shot for shot scene (bc u know im not a fan), but may hold slight spoilers for those who haven’t finished st3 yet. but it’s kinda an au? idk, but i hope you enjoy lmao

you were getting sick and fucking tired of coming so close to your death. you were far too young to have seen what you had, experience the trauma that had been dished your way, and have to live forever with the knowledge of interdimensional creatures out for blood.

and as you sat now in the starcount food court, with blood caked skin, a throbbing headache and the knowledge of possessions, russian spies and more upside down bullshit, you longed deeply for a time when wondering if steve would like your new lip color was your biggest problem. that’s what mattered, not hoping that you would evade monsters and live to see the next day.

everything just kept happening so fast. in ‘83 it felt like days. in ‘84, weeks. now, you swore you, robin, steve, dustin and erica had been fighting for months, years even. you had to remind yourself continually that it was only friday, and not months in the future. two days ago steve had planned a date for the two of you. nothing fancy, just a movie and burgers at the drive in, but you had been looking forward to it. you had been looking forward to a night off. you were supposed to be swapping spit with your boyfriend in the back of a movie theater, not listening to chief hopper and dustin play rapid catch up on the newest threats.

you gnawed at your thumb nail, letting your mind go blank and take a rest. you weren’t sure when you’d be privy to another calm moment like this. it needed all the time it could get.

you stayed in your blissfully unaware bubble until you felt a tap on your shoulder. thumb still resting on your lips, you glanced up to see one of the men who had come in with hopper looming over you.

when he saw he caught your attention, he shook his hand at you gently. he held a damp handkerchief and was montioning to your blood covered knees.

“oh, um thank you.” you offered a sweet smile as you gingerly took the handkerchief from the man, who grinned when you took it.

he then turned to the other tag along, muttered in words you could now recognized as russian and looked back to you, smile still intact.

“he says to tell him if you need anything else.” the man informed you.

“uh, alright. tell him thank you?” you breathed an uncomfortable laugh as your eyes darted between the two strange men.

“она говорит спасибо.”

she says thank you.

his grin only widened.

“i don’t think i caught your name, either of you.” you looked between both of them again.

“murray bauman,” he extended his hand which you took, “and this is alexei.”

“(y/n) (y/l/n), it’s a pleasure. though, i wish it weren’t under less threatening circumstances.” you said with a charismatic lit to your voice.

murray relied your words in russian as you shook alexei’s hand, who placed his free hand on the back of your hand clasped in his.

“удовольствие все мое.”

the pleasure is mine.

with him still holding you hand, you glanced over to murray, your smile staying put as to not tip alexei off on your slight discomfort.

“he says the pleasure is all his.”

“quite the charmer.” you demurely dipped your head.

“она сказала, что ты очаровательный.”

she says you’re charming.

“она очаровательная.” alexei replied almost instantly, a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

murray chuckled, “he says you’re the charming one.”

“did he flirt with joyce this much?” you prompted, turning back to rid the blood from your knees.

“that was jim’s prerogative.” murray scoffed, and you laughed.

“well, it is nice to know that i am the least bit alluring in this state. i feel like i’ve been hit by a truck.”

alexei’s eyes were ping ponging between you and murray as you spoke out of his native tongue.

“так?“

so?

“она польщена твоим флиртом.”

she is flattered by your flirting.

alexei didn’t reply, but his bashful look said it all.

while you cleaned, alexei flirted and murray translated, steve stood watching it all from a far. his eyes narrowed as he watched you laugh and reply back to whatever murray had just said. the russian asshole he was with was giving you some looks steve didn’t approve of. this green feeling wasn’t unfamiliar territory for steve, but he didn’t think he’d be experiencing it here and now, of all times.

you were naturally appealing and attractive to others, you exuded it. people were drawn to you, adored and worshipped you when your orbit caught them. you couldn’t turn it off, couldn’t push people away, no matter the situation. but right now, steve wished you could.

“aye, what do you think they’re talkin’ about?” steve elbowed robin and tipped his chin over to where you sat.

robin observed the scene for a moment before speaking.

“if i had to guess? russian doctor dude is trying to butter up your girl. i can tell from here he’s flirting hard core.”

steve didn’t need any more encouragement than that to stalk across the food court toward to three of you. when he arrived, steve joined in on the laughter, his obviously forced and angry.

“wow, what’s so funny over here? didn’t think the end of the world would be a laughing matter.” steve practically berated.

“well, we were actually just making light of this situation. we’ve done this before, baby. y’know if we get to in our heads, we crumble.” you reached up to take steve’s hand in yours hoping it would calm him, but his resolve only hardened.

“yeah, yeah, yeah, cool, cool, cool. so, shitbag soviet over here ain’t bothering you?” steve glared daggers into a very confused alexei.

“oh, goodey. another man in this group incapable of expressing their insecurities in a constructive way.” murray chimed in sarcastically.

“the fuck you just say?” steve took a step forward and puffed out his chest at murray’s comment. sadly, only proving murray’s point further.

you quickly turned around to the two men behind you and kept a death grip on your boyfriend’s hand.

“murray, darling. alexei,” he perked up at the mention of his name, “can you both go grab me a cup of ice and something to eat? i’m starved.”

“она попросила лед и еду.” murray relayed.

she asked for ice and food.

“женский мальчик ее разозлил?” alexei asked, worried.

did the feminine boy make her angry?

“нет, что-то говорит мне, что она много занимается этим.” murray snorted a laugh before leading alexei off to find what you requested.

no, i have a feeling she deals with this a lot.

“what? what did they say about me?” steve craned his neck to watch them leave.

“sorry, i didn’t become fluent in russian since the last time i saw you.” you replied.

“well, i know it was about me. commie assholes.” he cursed.

you slapped his leg, “hey! what the hell?”

“those commie assholes are helping us figure this shit out. don’t be an a dick.”

“you’re only saying that because he’s kissing your ass.” steve muttered as he flexed his jaw.

“can’t get mad at him for something you love to do too, harrington.” you shot him a smile.

he looked at you and rolled his eyes, why did your smile have to be so cute? could you stop being so cute for five fucking seconds?

“whatever, it’s still annoying. even robin could tell how thick he was laying it on with you.” steve grimaced, coming to sit next to you.

“he’s pamering me, let him be.” you sighed and rested your temple against his shoulder. as you did, steve slung his arm around you.

“i should be pampering you. not that fuckin’ babushka.” steve brought you closer to him, reveling in your closeness and satiating his protective instinct.

somehow after a day of running from russians, being tortured and sweating from pure fear, you still smelled amazing. god, he hated how perfect you were sometimes.

“let him. let’s me conserve my energy for when i pamper you after this is all over.” you lifted your head briefly to press a kiss to his cheek.

“if we get out of this.”

“we will. this is all gonna work out.”

steve wasn’t so sure. there was still so much that could go wrong. the obstacles were rising and viable plans were dwindling. billy was out there with his army of flayed, ready and waiting to kill them all, and their one weapon was weak and acting faulty. but, steve wasn’t going to let himself be cynical. like you said, you had done this before, side by side and won. so what was a third time? what was the saying? third time’s the charm? he could only hope that applied now.

but in case it didn’t, steve memorized this moment with you. curled to his chest, smelling like fresh air and wild flowers.

feedback is greatly appreciated!!

requests are closed

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington drabble #stranger things imagine

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juhihuji · 5 years ago

Text

my big cringy text post full of useless info about Juhi Zo (oc)

Uhhh this is in response to the anon from curious cat who asked ‘bout my oc...it was too much text.......

Hey. HEY? r u tryna make me cry cuz that's how you do it I'm so happy ppl like her when I was so ashamed and embarrassed to show her lmao Ah...there's so so so much about her and I've tried typing it out over n over but it's hard to tell her story without going off on long tangents trying to explain other details. Like, it wouldn't make sense without them...and I didn't wanna make this post super long and I'm still embarrassed about talking about it ...I hope u r cool with just hearing random facts and snippets of story about her ah I'm sorry ;_;

I created her with the intention of using her for self inserting/shipping lmao but that's probably obvious...and idk if she breaks any rules of the universe and I feel weird talkin' about her cuz I'm only in the middle of Shippuden so I don't know what the whole world is like lol but uuh

She's left handed

One of her hobbies is jewelry making. She mainly uses wire and ceramic beads and gives them as gifts to her friends. They might wear it to be polite but nobody really likes it lmao

Her team consists of herself, her lil brother Zitien, her big sister Agneya, and is lead by her mom or dad. They switch out cuz they care about spending time with their kids lol

Some of my art depicts her skin tone as richly saturated for aesthetic reasons, but she's meant to be quite grey because of a mineral in her body! It's part of her kekkei genkai™

She has a seal on her back and it's got two parts! One seals her entire weight, the other seals her entire temperature???? Kinda like how Tsunade's holdin' in her old, like suckin' in a gut. It's like that with Juhi's body temperature and weight and she can partially open each seal individually. Full grown at 5'4", she weighs 3.4 tonnes unsealed and her body is a hot hot 2100°C when unsealed. She's just super dense and hot and heavy! Like she's made of metal or something. When fully unsealed the weight and heat can warp her body structure as if she's melting, and when she seals that shit back up and her body cools back down she could remain permanently deformed! There are doctors on her home island who specialize in fixing some of that through corrective surgery, like parts of her skeleton fusing into one big mass, but not everything can be fixed! So she's gotta watch it!

She has nightmares about her face melting and people being scared of her or not being able to recognize her cuz you can't bring the face back to normal after it melts. Everyday she wakes up and checks her face obsessively to make sure all her features are the same distance apart and the same shape and whatnot

Even when fully sealed, full grown she weighs 300 pounds with an internal body temp of 40°C and for that reason she sinks like a rock and is terrified of large bodies of water! Learning to walk on water was the first thing ppl of her clan with the same kekkei genkai learn.

When her temperature is higher, she can (for the most part, aside from the melting at the highest temps) withstand and survive temperatures the same as hers or slightly higher, but for example at an internal temp of 400°C she will burn at 450°C

I love drawin' sweat and I even draw Juhi with sweat on her body cuz I can't help it but she doesn't sweat! She's always dehydrated and most of her body's moisture evaporates through exhalation as a complication caused by her kekkei genkai.

People from her island are trained to use a different type of chakra and her kekkei genkai also makes her body extremely efficient in using that chakra, so a little goes a long way. One of the things that comes from that is she doesn't typically get uncomfortably hot or cold. She can sense changes in temperatures, but her body is really efficient at maintaining homeostasis and she just don't get too bothered by it! To a point, anyway.

wow i talked lots about her KG but just the boring useless facts about it and not what it actually is but i did say random hahee :•)

For her Naruto AU she exists on a branching timeline, one branch where she falls in love with Shino and one where she falls in love with Kankuro! ew!

In the Shino timeline she takes on a more taijutsu focused fighting style thus we have taiJuhi!

Because of her weight/density she moves pretty slow for a ninja, but her mental reaction speed is typical of any decent shinobi. So don't let her catch you cuz her punches swing like a cannon and she will grapple her opponents and cook them alive. Her weight also makes it hard to knock her off balance.

Not great at long distance fighting. Sometimes uses a metal two-handed weapon.

Bein' a ninja's really tough for her since she's slow, but she wants it badly and works hard to keep up

Later in life she moves to and works in Konoha at a nuclear power plant owned and run by her clan wtf

Shino has been to Juhi's home island a couple times and he has to wear a lead suit to survive the harsh and nearly uninhabitable environment. The people from the island evolved to withstand it.

The first time he went, they took a ship to the island then went by train for a few hundred miles into the centre where the village is. The first time was for a mission, another Aburame came too. Some time during their friendship, Juhi gifted Shino beetles from her island that can survive the environment. Shino selectively bred them to be usable as an extra layer of protection beneath his and his clansman's skin to protect their internal organs while on the mission! How goofy

In the Kankuro timeline she takes on a more ninjutsu focused fighting style thus we have ninJuhi!

Later in life she works a job 6 months out of the year on her home island as a sentinel for the family who governs the island??

In this timeline she dies some time during the events in Boruto ig (still haven't gotten to Boruto yet tho). Her seal malfunctions and everything she touches burns or melts and everywhere she stands she sinks into the ground. She's far from home and all she can think to do to save everyone from herself is to run into the ocean. Her footfalls sound like thunder and the ground shakes deeply as she pounds the ground running towards the shore. The sand turns into a hard crust beneath every foot step that hits the beach. Suddenly, her sprinting figure turns into noise and white haze as she reaches the tides and nobody can see her anymore. It's the water, hissing deafeningly loud as it evaporates into thick clouds instantly upon contact with her body. Her body's efficient energy usage takes her far into the ocean before she begins to run out of chakra. Her body starts to cool down from the ocean water and she's getting too tired to hold up the weight of her 3.4 tonne body. Eventually she crumples on the ocean floor and dies, melting and embedding into the earth's crust.

She loves spicy food

uhhh that was a lot of boring information sorry about that! wanted this post to be short but got carried away :•( her life's supposed to be kind of a crooked painful mess but she's pretty cheery cuz to her it's all normal and she's got the love and support of her friends and family baby! ain't that how it always goes in Naruto also sorry for sloppy writing im dum

#text post #Juhi #Juhi Zo #naruto oc

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moonraccoon-exe · 5 years ago

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Hello! I was going through your supportive Regis to Iggy stuff and I’M MELTING!! I love it so much! Do you have anymore Regis-Ignis stuff or even other characters who support gladnis? I really wanna know!

*SMACKS WITH LOVE*

HELLO MUFFIN U THOUGHT I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU? HAH. U ABSOLUTE FOOL. I AM HERE TO SERRRRRRRRRVE

I’m very excited to answer this because even though I still have 60+ asks (WAY over a year old now, god damn it), it made me so happy to get a new one with such old vibe? Idk how to explain it, it just felt like the first times I’d get asks anD IT MADE ME SO HAPPY OMG THANK YOU ;w;

But not gonna make the intro too long, you here for the nice stuff, so here we go!

The supportive Regis to Iggy stuff is old, some of my first, AND I FREAKING LOVE IT. Here you have supportive Regis being a good papa, and supportive Regis multiple headcanons if you missed it/don’t remember! :3

NOW LET’S SEE WHAT WE CAN GET FROM THIS

AU where Regis is Ignis’ supportive dad figure:

Quick summary following the previous posts’ canon: Iggy’s parents love him but aren’t very good parents. He’s just Noct’s adviser and a kingdom’s servant for them, and don’t care about Iggy’s relationships, not even his romantic one, so they never make any space to talk about it or interact or even care. Not kingdom issues? Then I don’t have time, sweetie, focus on your job and don’t make me waste my time.

So Regis has taken up on the role of Papa Regis for Ignis because a parent isn’t just feeding your child, WHERE IS THE GODDAMN SUPPORT, HE JUST WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE TIME HE ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED HALF HIS ICE-CREAM ON SATURDAY’S DATE NIGHT, CAN YOU JUST. FUCKING LOVE HIM GODDAMMIT HOW HARD IS IT

Regis always gets some time to listen to Iggy about Gladio. Even if it’s a few shared whispers while crossing the door to Council meeting, he’ll always ask. Ignis has gotten a grip of that, and they’ve managed to get away with it, be it a long conversation, or two sentences, all so long Iggy gets to express a bit of what he feels :’)

You know what Regis does most? He disguises lots of forms of support in formalities so that Ignis can get away with his things.

Like the one post shared above where Regis made up the lame excuse of “oh, uh, you: drive the Regalia to the Amicitia house and then you’re free lmao” (it’s sO CUTE OMG HOW DARE PAST-ME WRITE SOMETHING SO CUTE).

Ignis’ parents and council in general are always overwhelming and overloading Ignis of so much work, it’s sometimes a real struggle to find the time to dedicate to his relationship. Gladio understands, but it’s still not fair for Iggy.

So Regis is going to do the Thing: POWER ABUSE. FOR THE BABY.

Not rly power abuse lmao but he’s the king, he has the ultimate word and orders, right? So if he wants Ignis to have some time to himself, HE’S GOING TO FUCKING HAVE IT. But, so that his parents don’t notice or don’t have an excuse to complain, Regis will disguise some Ignis Free Time as orders.

Ignis wants to write a love letter for Gladio, but is stashed to the very last pore of politics paperwork.

“Excuse me, lord, ladies, can you be so kind as to get this paperwork done? I require of this young lad’s presence to be my personal scribe for a very, very important speech. *Closes door* Yes, right, where do we start? The…importance of…the crown, symbol of the city, emblem of…you write your thing, Ignis, I’ll just babble things, ok? the light and…stuff and things and I’ll just start reciting the whole of Kupo Wars intro speech and no one will notice if I speak regal and kingly like this are you good? you need anything you tell me, alright? LONG AGO IN A FAR AWAY GALAXY-”

It’s a special date and Ignis wants to bake something for Gladio because GladiO LOVES EATING SO MUCH, YOUR MAJESTY, HE’S SO HAPPY WHEN HE EATS AND I WANT TO MAKE HIM HAPPY

“Yes, hello, it seems like Ignis won’t be able to attend this interview because I want to impress the Tenebrae diplomats and I need the best chef of Eos aiding me, come here on royal duty, Ignis.”

((after Ignis finished baking the cake and people expected Regis to try it he just went “AAAH, GOODNESS, I FORGOT I’M ALLERGIC TO CAKE, WHAT A DUMBASS I AM, WELP, WE DON’T WANT IT TO GO TO WASTE SO WHY DON’T YOU TAKE IT TO SOMEONE ELSE YOU KNOW WILL LOVE IT, IGNIS? ( ´ ▽ ` )))

((regis how is anyone allergic to cake as a whole lmao))

Ignis is just sad because he wants to spend a bit of time with Gladio.

“HELLO IGNIS, GUESS WHICH ABSOLUTELY IDIOTIC KING RIPPED HIS CLOTHES, WHAT A MYSTERY, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN, I THINK YOU’LL HAVE TO GO BUY ME A NEW SUIT BUT DON’T YOU DARE GO ALONE, YOU’RE A FAMOUS FACE OF THE ROYAL WORLD, YOU OBVIOUSLY NEED A GUARD, AM I RITE, WHO IS AVAILABLE RIGHT NOW-”

“well, Cor is-”

“GLADIOLUS, DEAR, WHAT A COINCIDENCE, I HAVE A JOB FOR YOU RIGHT NOW, BOY.”

Soft and gentle and loving as he is, Regis can also be shady af with people that deserve it.

Scientia father is talking about some stupid thing and he mentions his son.

Regis is giving him the most deeply confused frown of the world, and ultra genuinely asks “You have a son???????”

He does this. EVERY. TIME. Scientia parents talk about Ignis LMAO, EVERY FUCKING TIME

(just wants to make it clear he doesn’t see them as parents to Ignis but that’s just his opinion, right, what does it matter, fuck him)

Regis isn’t only a supportive dad for Iggy when it comes to Gladnis. He’s also a supportive papa in general.

Kiddo Ignis can’t. STOP STARING. At the aerial rope acts and acrobatics on TV. THEY ARE JUST. SO FUCKING ARTISTIC. SO ELEGANT. SO BEAUTIFUL. KIDDO IGNIS LOVES THE ACROBATS HELOVESTHEMSOMU- ok Iggy TV time is over, you have to go make your ridiculously advanced homework that sucks the childhood out of you ok baby boy?

40 year old Regis Papa Sense tingles.

40 y.o. Regis is taking Ignis from his parents at a hallway while they were leading him to his first Crownsguard training lesson “Yes, I take it from here, I want to give him a little encouraging speech, you know how this can be a little disheartening from how hard it is? Haha yeah, children these days am I rite”

Ignis walks into the training hall expecting Cor or Clarus or some Crownsguard with a pole ready to fucking SMACK HIM.

Ignis walks into the training hall being received by Insomnia’s fifth best circus arts coreographer.

“Hello, you must be Ignis. The king said you’re very excited about aerial ropes and acrobatics? That’s so cool. Are you excited to be learning it yourself, now?”

Little twelve years old Ignis is GASP .A. *looks up at Regis like ¿¿¿¡¡¡¡???!!!*

“It’s OBVIOUSLY just to have an expert acrobat fighter, the only one of your kind, flexible, agile fighter that can jump, am I rite, enemies won’t expect that. So this is NOT arts class, it’s…OBVIOUSLY your Crownsguard training as we told your parents. OBVIOUSLY. Right, boy? Now, we don’t want to spoil the surprise. No telling mom and dad, ok? You tell them it’s Cor teaching you to punch things. Have fun. I mean. TRAIN HARD, HUFFFFFFFF”

IGNIS WAS HYSTERICALLY HAPPY YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE SO MUCH JOY FITS IN THAT CHILD

Nineteen year old Ignis figured out his first real strategy at war table and it was an utter success.

Papa be like, not even looking away of his papers, “It’s your responsibility.”

REAL PAPA Regis rushed to hug him, grinning, and goes “Wow, Ignis, that’s fantastic!! Congratulations!! You worked very hard on it, and you helped save so many lives. Imagine all the families that will reunite thanks to you. You, fantastic boy, you’re so young and so skilled already, I’m so proud of you.”

Ignis had a literal nervous breadown out of stress overload.

Mama be like “take these pills, rest five minutes, now go back to your office, you can’t stay behind, you have all these paperworks DUE TOMORROW, YOU CAN’T JUST CALL IN SICK??? LIKE IT’S AN EXCUSE¿¿¿”

Ignis arrived to his office to find two sofas placed there together like a bed, comfy, cozy, with a blankie and cushions, and a therapist waiting at the desk.

“Hello. You must be Ignis. The king scheduled an appointment for you today. He also said you don’t need to worry about the paperwork, and said, I quote *reads paper* “…fuck paperwork”. Oh my. Anyway, come here, please lie down and let’s see what we can do for you, ok, sweetie?”

Seventeen year old Ignis is NERVOUS about his first date with Gladio. Like. HIS CRUSH. ASKED HIM OUT?? HIS CRUSH. NOT ANYONE, HIS ACTUAL CRUSH SINCE HE WAS TEN??????? THE GUY HE HAD BEEN PINING OVER FOR YEARS. THE GUY THAT HE FELT SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WAY OUT OF HIS LEAGUE. HE. ASKED. HIM. OUT. WTF, HOW CAN IGNIS NOT BE NERVOUS, HE’S BEEN CRUSHING ON HIM SINCE EVEN BEFORE HE KNEW WHAT A CRUSH WAS

Papa be like “But?? I thought you were staying in today for training????? What about the prince’s interviews you have to cover for the day after tomorrow?? The paperwork for monday?? Your HOMEWORK¿¿ Ignis, you’re way better than this, leave the teenage drama alone. Free time? That you’re a teen and just want to go out and I just think about work??? Yes, no, I understand that, of COURSE I do, I just…nervous? IT’S JUST A DATE IGNIS OHMYGOD, don’t be so immature, just wear anything, go to your date, and be back as soon as possible, I won’t tolerate you being out after eight.”

Papa Regis is stopping a deep breathing absent-looking Ignis in the middle of the hallway to ask if he’s fine. It took like fifteen minutes of an embarrassed Ignis melting and becoming a puddle of shyness making excuses before he spilled the truth, blushing in embarrassment, whispering, feeling absolutely fucking stupid and like a dork.

“…I just…don’t know…what to wear…”

Regis be (・_・ )

An hour later locked away in Ignis’ office after having had an ACTUAL KINGSGLAIVE FUCKING SNEAK INTO IGNIS’ HOUSE AND BRING ALL HIS CLOTHES IN A HURRY (under royal command lmao), Regis is adjusting Ignis’ hair and glasses over and over, stepping back, staring with a >:| look, then going back in, re-arrange, step back, stare like >:|, step in to re-arrange, and so over and over, all while both discuss over it like it’s a death or life issue.

Regis becomes expert fashion critique

“HOW. Are you going to put those shoes on with THAT shirt.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT, I JUST. I’M SO NERVOUS.”

But being serious, Regis made sure to spend so very long in there with Ignis not because he didn’t know what to have him wear; that was the excuse to spend a while with Ignis to help him calm down. Boy was absolutely GONE, he needed to put his feet back on earth before his date or he was going to combust lmao

AND IT WORKED

Ignis’ shift is over and he goes “I wasted my last hour doing NOTHING ;A;”

“HOW DARE YOU SAY IT’S NOTHING WHEN WE USED IT SO WELL TO GET YOU READY”

Ignis is more honored by having had the king help him pick his clothes than working so it doesn’t feel as bad. Plus, Regis knows his way through the mess of his head to make him not feel guilty

Before going out of the office, Regis is taking his time to smile a lot and stare at Ignis, before he drops the whole king attitude or fashion expert and goes with this tender, warm, and genuinely happy voice “So he finally asked you out.”

Ignis absolutely changes then. He just…glOWS HAPPY AND LOVING. And of course he starts sharing the whole thing with Regis, from asking out to how long he had been liking him to how he feels about it and stuff. Regis listens patiently, and then he gets up from his place and goes to grab Ignis’ face and helps a bit with his hair, and he can’t help but stare and stare with these…these IMMENSELY WARM EYES AND THIS HUGE SWEET, TENDER SMILE

“I’m so happy for you two. You two have always looked good together, and I think you’re meant to be. You’ll be fine, son.”

Ignis may have teared up a little and looked down. He feels…sO ENCOURAGED, SO SUPPORTED, HE FEELS LIKE SOMEONE CARES, IT’S SO NICE AKLSDJFDG

of fucking COURSE it was the best first date EVER

Ignis sometimes wants to get Gladio presents, but he doesn’t know where to put them (as in, if he gets Gladio a gift, it may be a few days earlier, so where does he store it during those few days?). No way to put them in his room because his parents check his room (never looking for anything in particular but it’s to ‘’keep him in check’’ or some bullshit), and they have key to his office too.

Regis motherfucking Lucis Caelum is going to store that unicorn plushie in armiger and you better not question him.

You know how Regis and Noctis have royal portraits taken each certain years?

Yes, there is an official royal photograph or Regis with a twenty year old Ignis because what the fuck do you mean it’s just for the Lucis Caelum last name he’s my son regardless of last names fuck you give me that stupid camera

Of course it didn’t count to the ‘official’ archives of the heir and monarch portraits but goddammit is Regis going to make sure it’s hung somewhere in the fucking Citadel.

You thought Regis was just taking the role at times? HELL NO, HE’S GOING FULL PAPA BEAR MODE, HE LOVES IGGY AS MUCH AS HE LOVES NOCT, OF COURSE HE’S GOING THIS FAR

He keeps making that little adorable slip of thinking of Noct and Iggy as literal brothers because he’s just so into supporting Ignis he keeps forgetting he’s not his son neither legally or genetically.

“You can’t just get rid of your brother-in-law, that’s ridiculous.”

“…who?”

“Gladi- ooh, yes, lmao, I forgot. I meant Gladio”

“DO NOT TALK LIKE THAT TO YOUR BROTHER.”

“But I don’t have a brother.”

“right”

“You should follow Ignis’ example, that’s what big brothers are for.”

“Dad you’re doing it again.”

“Hello, Ignis? I wanted to talk to your brother. Ah, fuck, I meant, Noctis.”

Regis gets really moody every time Scientia parents are around. He knows they’re not necessarily evil, but that doesn’t mean they’re not abusive. He’s been reflecting long about it and he sees them as abusive even if incidentally so of course he gets moody. HOW DARE THEY MISTREAT MY CHILD LIKE THAT.

Regis had Clarus review a literal petition to change Insomnia’s adult age from 21 to 19 so Ignis could move the fuck out of his house sooner.

council said no those pieces of shIT

Regis insisted

“Your Majesty, we can’t just change that law so easily and fast, and think of-”

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY CHILDREN WANT TO GET OUT OF THEIR GODDAMN HOUSE TO ESCAPE AN ABUSIVE ENVIRONMENT BUT FUCKING CAN’T BECAUSE THEY’RE “TOO YOUNG”

Regis mopped about it for a month

When Noct moved to his flat near school, Regis did it so he could grow a bit of independency…and to give Ignis the spare key.

“My son may need some watch every now and then. Leave the house duties to him, that’s fine, son, just…uh…keep an eye on him some nights. Any night you want. I happened to find only a flat with two separate rooms haha what a coINCIDENCE AIN’T IT so it’s fine if you want to spend the night with Noct :)”

He was basically gifting Ignis his own shared apartment WHAT THE HECK YOUR MAJESTY YOU’RE GIVING ME A WHOLE ASS APARTMENT?????? OMG NO STOP

((Ignis used that apartment very frequently the poor bby ;A;))

When Noct graduates and goes back to living at the Citadel, Ignis at first is sort of upset of having to go back to his house every day. He normally can’t get to spend the nights at Gladio’s or anyone else’s because his parents thing it’s inappropriate. But Ignis just looks…so upset. He doesn’t say anything, and he keeps talking about being happy of Noct’s growth and independency and graduation and his grades and him getting to be back with his dad and stuff, but when he’s alone he looks so upset. He looks like he’s sleeping less, and worse than before; he looks like…like carrying a heavier weight, that kept growing and growing. He looked less healthy, less happy, less bright.

And as soon as he notices, there we have him, king motherfucking Regis signing the official return of the prince’s gentlemen job, and signing Ignis in the goddamn title without even asking him first.

Regis’ excuse is that Ignis is his first assistant, personal adviser, closest companion, so it only makes sense to have Ignis attend him personally at any time the prince so needs it, SO YOU BETTER NOT HAVE ANY EXCUSES YOU PIECES OF SHIT TO LET YOUR SON LIVE IN THE ROOM NEXT TO NOCT’S, OKAY, FUCK YOU.

It was a smart move because Scientia parents were delighted with the promotion and progress, yes yes, we told you working this hard would get you really far, son, of course it was due to the pressure we put on you that you get to be the prince’s personal assistant to a new level.

Regis really just wanted Ignis to get out of that goddamn place for most nights.

And not like Noctis asks for anything. Wakes up WAY later than Ignis, cleans his own room as best as he can (he’s trying, ok? LEAVE HIM ALONE), and it’s not like it’s the 1st century to be asking Ignis to dress him or anything, ew, get away of my room, you dork, this is my stuff!!

IGNIS HAS NEVER SLEPT SO GODDAMN WEL IN HIS GODDAMN LIFE, and it’s not like his parents don’t let him sleep or anything, it’s just…the air. It’s different. The environment is WAY comfier and more cozy, HE LOVES SLEEPING THERE.

Regis is also there when Iggy is having bad times.

As much as he’s eventually learned that his parents just Don’t Care, it’s not like it’s an easy thing to digest, you know? Because they’re this horrible mix between genuinely loving and still abusive and toxic. They want the best for him, but they’ve broken him to the point of literal physical breakdowns. They love him, but don’t know his favorite meal or color. They want him to go far but forget he’s a human, and just see his grades and work, and don’t know how he has fun and have never once listened to him about his YEARS LONG RELATIONSHIP WITH A MAN HE GENUINELY LOVES AND WHO HE HAS LIVED WITH THE MOST ADVENTURES. Ignis is often very troubled about his parents, because as much distance as he’s put in between and as much as he doesn’t acknowledge them as his parents because of all the bad they’ve done to him and how absent they’ve been, he just can’t help but…still be hurt about it, you know?

So even though he has Regis’ full awesome support, and Clarus’, and other parental figures, it’s just not the people he grew up with all his life calling “parents”. They may be abusive and absent but goddammit, the child in him used to think they were his parents, and good ones. It’s not like he can just not care.

So it’s not rare that Ignis gets emotional over it, or has cried a few times, especially when he has something significative going on in his life and his parents just aren’t there, even when he reaches out to them and they’re just “too busy”.

SO ONE DAY

Nothing particular had happened. It was the constant storing of that kinda events, thoughts and feelings that kept building up until they were too many and made Ignis sort of break.

His parents just wouldn’t speak about his relationship with Gladio. The most they have gotten to was telling him to not be explicit about it to save scandals about someone as important as an Amicitia, to always be perfectly sharp and as best looking as he could because an Amicitia just couldn’t be seen with someone less than Perfect, and would often tell him to not get hopes too high because Gladiolus looked like a man to constantly switch partners so you better be careful. But they never cared about knowing him, having him for dinner, talking about their dates, not even how or WHEN it started, they didn’t even know how long it had been going on, or the places they’ve been or the things they’d done together, NOTHING.

Ignis is so very often at the Amicitias’; has dinner, sleeps over when he can, has gone out with Iris alone SO MANY times, has been with Clarus alone SO MANY TIMES, has LITERALLY GONE ON VACATIONS WITH THEM, and his parents can’t even shake Gladio’s hand even when they all work in the same goddamn place? Were they for real?

Ignis once tried talking with them about the possibility of marriage. He had been with Gladio for a good couple years, and he was sure about it, and had even spoken a bit with Gladio about it, and it seemed like a bright plan.

It took Ignis MONTHS. Literal months of mental preparation. He wrote the little speech and corrected it over and over and over and over for weeks to know what to tell his parents and how. He practiced in his head, with the mirror, with Noctis, he rehearsed aloud to an empty room. He had his routine of breathing before it to get ready, during it to not lose it, he had been gathering courage for all those MONTHS

“I’m sorry, Ignis, I know it’s important but I have to hand these papers in three days from now. Could you tell me some other day?”

He didn’t even get to the first word of his speech because he wasn’t even given the chance.

He dropped the bomb in the first sentence he said, on purpose, so his parents would know how big of a thing it was and wouldn’t discard it; “I’ve spoken with Gladiolus about marriage.” And he got this. I’m busy. Paperwork. Good that you’re marrying but can you please not interrupt me?

Ignis didn’t even get angry. He just stood there, in front of his parents, staring a little with a blank face. He still waited a bit, and his mom did look up from her papers as if asking if he needed anything. Willing to listen, and Ignis knew and saw it.

But decided it wasn’t worth it, and he just turned around and left.

He didn’t feel bad that night, or the next, and he worked just fine during the week…but he kept…to say it some way, withering.

Like back when he had to go back to sleeping at his parents’ every night, Ignis started slowly looking restless and upset with each day. With the heavy air and shoulders, the tired look, and that exhausted aura that felt like he struggled at getting out of bed every day.

And of course, Regis noticed.

One day, he visited Ignis to see what was going on. He had Ignis sit on a chair and he sat across him, and had him talk about it. By that point Ignis has grown so much personal trust with Regis that he doesn’t struggle anymore at opening up with him.

Ignis spoke long, much longer than he knew he had to speak, about all the things his parents don’t do and do, and went on and on, and it was past the shift end hour, it got dark and late and they didn’t even bother turning the lights on and just kept going.

And then Ignis got to the point where one sentence alone had him break.

“I don’t understand, I’m their son, and they love me, so why don’t they care?”

Ignis stopped there because, as he said that last bit, he started crying. Fast, out of nowhere, not even noticing, he just…broke down right there. At first he stayed still while crying, as if only after saying it aloud had he noticed the weight it held.

Little by little he started putting the head down, until he seemed to finally understand what he said, and so he started properly crying. Ignis tried cleaning his eyes, took his glasses off, and sobbed and cried.

It wasn’t long before Regis had stood from his chair and had reached for him. Got close, and took Ignis in a hug.

Ignis didn’t even care if this was the king or someone else’s dad. He didn’t. He just buried his face in his hands, and his hands and face in Regis’ chest, and started sobbing.

Regis hugged him and kept him to his chest for as long as he needed. He pet his hair, rubbed his back, squeezed his arms, and didn’t let go while letting Iggy cry all that he wanted to sob out.

After a bit, Ignis tried cleaning his nose and eyes, and let go of his face to hug Regis back. It was a bit timid, and a little weak, but he held to Regis’ jacket like a scared, upset kid, and shyly sniffled while calming down.

“Why don’t they care?” he whispered again mid-tears, genuinely lost…but not alone.

Later, when Ignis let go and Regis sat next to him, Ignis apologized because he “should” be grateful for what he has, and he has Regis and that’s way better than any parent he could have asked for and way better than the bad his real parents have done to him, and, surprisingly, Regis didn’t agree this time.

“It’s not something that can be replaced. A joy in your life doesn’t nulify the bad. When it hurts, it hurts. I can be your dad all that we want, but it won’t take away the hurt you feel for the real one. And that’s ok. You are grateful for what you have, but it’s also ok to be hurting on this. I would be hurting, too.”

someone give this man a prize already please

A week later Clarus walked into a very upset Regis giving a paper his Tantrum Frown.

“Regis?”

“Clarus how do I adopt an adult that has legal living parents?”

Regis, no.

REGIS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

Now Regis doesn’t ask the Scientia “you have a son?” whenever they mention Ignis, he just goes “Ah, you know his name?”

savage

One day, a 24 year old Iggy went to Regis’ chambers during a sunday hence day off. Regis was ? :3

Ignis asked Regis if he would please help him choose the engagement ring he was going to get for Gladio.

Regis was out of the room screaming and swinging the Regalia’s keys before Ignis had finished the sentence.

SHOPPING TIME

There we have him a PROUD PAPA going with his BEAUTIFUL SON to get an engagement ring because BOY IS GONNA ASK HIS BF FOR MARRIAGE AND JESUS CHRIST IS THIS EXCITING

Honestly I’m saving how excited Regis was because it’s just too much excitement to be described lmao

Just imagine him screeching the whole way to the mall

and the dy after

and all over the week

Regis was so excited he slightly fainted at least twice across the week lmao thank the gods a chuckling Clarus was there to help but anyway back to RING SHOPPING

Just like that time Regis was his FASHION EXPERT on the first date Iggy had with Gladio, Regis is now becoming RING EXPERT for him

“HOW. Are you going to wear that ring with those SHOES”

“why are the shoes always the problem”

They didn’t spend as long in the store as they did with the clothes that once, but they did spend a good while looking at the prettiest rings and comparing and thinking about what Gladio would personally like, and etc etc.

Basically Regis helping Iggy pick the engagement ring plEASE I BEG FOR THIS SCENARIO AKSLJDFDG *cries*

When Ignis got decided for one, he was just pulling out his credit card when RegIS. FUCKING. SLAMMED HIS DEBIT CARD ON THE COUNTER.

I PAY FOR THIS ONE.

omg but king Regis I’ve been saving up for a whole yea-

IT GOES ON MY BEHALF GOD FUCKING DAMMIT THIS IS MORE A GIFT TO ME THAN IT IS TO EITHER OF YOU SHUT UP

Regis = Gladnis shipper #1

Fun side story, an hour after Ignis and Regis left, CLARUS AND GLADIO ARRIVED. TO THE SAME STORE. LOOKING FOR THE EXACT SAME RING THAT IGNIS JUST BOUGHT. BECAUSE GLADIO HAD HAD IT IN HIS WATCH FOR OVER A MONTH NOW, BUT HE FREAKING…DIDN’T RESERVE IT, HE’S AN IDIOT, SOME STUPID ASSHOLE BOUGHT IT BEFORE HIM, IT WAS THE PERFECT RING, P E R F E C T, THERE WAS NO RING BETTER ON THIS PLANET OR THIS UNIVERSE THAT COULD COMPARE, AND WHAT WERE THE ODDS HE COULD FIND THE BUYER TO BUY IT BACK!?? WHAT WERE THE GODDAMN ODDS FUCKTHISSHIT GLADIO WAS SO A N G R Y.

fun side story #2 can we have Gladnis proposing to each other the same day because that’s disgustingly freaking adorable and I die with cuteness overload at the thought thank you. Like u know, those cute videos, I think there are two where partner 1 proposes to partner 2, and partner 2 just LAUGHS and partner 1 is ;A; ??? and partner 2 suddenly pulls out a little box too and it makes sense and the two just freaking lose it. Yes, Gladnis vibes, thank you

Let’s make it an Eos tradition that the father or parent or parental figure of the groom (or bride or person in suit) gets them the tie and only show them on the wedding day and they put it on their kid. (that’s actually a nice tradition, nice thinking Brain, I’ll steal this from myself later)

On the wedding day, in a room, Clarus is tying Gladio’s tie.

In the other, Ignis is tying his own.

He did tell dad, but didn’t tell him about the tradition and dad assumed it wasn’t happening. It was fine, Ignis kept it a secret because he didn’t want his dad to do it, and he was fine getting his own tie.

(Scientia parents are present, just Ignis asked them to be sat and away, he was fine on his own, and because Scientia parents don’t care they were just like okie)

And of course, there was then a knock at the door.

“Ignis?”

“…ki…KING REGIS!?”

Regis is smiling and going in and closing the door. Ignis stands up and he seemed to have been about to run towards him, but he freezes in his spot, and suddenly stands there like a lost shy kid, and his eyes immediately water. They say nothing for a while and just stare at each other, until Ignis, at the edge of crying, just whispers in a broken voice “You came.”

“Of course I did. What sort of horrible thing would I be if I missed your wedding? I’m sorry I’m late, I just didn’t know in which room you were. You should’ve told me!”

It takes a while as Ignis controls his tears and feelings and gets over the shyness before he says it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d come and I didn’t want to pressure you by asking for this…extra thing, just consumes time, and I could do it alone, it was fine, really…”

“An extra thing?”

Regis starts limping his way towards him. Then, when he gets to Ignis, he pulls out a little large box. Ignis finally starts crying when Regis opens it and there’s a tie inside.

While Iggy cries a bit, Regis undoes his tie, throws it away, and gently and very softly starts tying the new one. He does his best and prettiest tie, and pats it.

“It’s no extra thing. It’s my responsibility.”

Ignis immediately went in for a tight hug, crying into Regis’ shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you for this, I’m so sorry…I…know you’re genuinely busy, and that’s ok, you run the biggest country of the world and a whole magic core alone, I know it’s genuine and I’ve never been upset for that, I just…know you’re genuinely busy…”

Regis returned the hug as lovingly and tight as only a father does, and kissed his head.

“Yes, a king is always busy. But never for my son.”

And that’s how Ignis was walked down the aisle by REGIS FUCKING LUCIS CAELUM CXIII OF HIS NAME THE MAN HIMSELF.

*cries*

HOW DARE YOU ASK ME FOR SUPPORTIVE REGIS, ANON, NOW I’M A MESS OF FEELINGS AND A CHAOS OF EMOTIONS ASKDJFKG GODS BLESS THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’m an absolute disaster for supportive papa Regis. U see supportive Regis u show me, ok? OK? THANK YOU ;____;

But anyways, dear anon, HERE YOU GO WITH THIS BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL ASK THAT WAS SUCH A DELIGHT TO RECEIVE, AND SUCH A WONDER TO ANSWER. ( ˙꒳˙ )

I hope you enjoyed these at least half as I did!

Thank you, and have a WONDAHFUL day!

#gladnis #regis #gladio/ignis #ffxv headcanons #*PUTS PAWS IN THE AIR*#AAAAAAAAAAAH YES. THE MOST MAGNIFICENT THE MOST SPLENDID THE MOST DELIGHTFUL PAPA REGIS KICKS IN AGAIN #GOOD HEAVENS THE SKIES KNOW I LOVE SUPPORTIVE REGIS WITH A /PASSION/#*Cries*#coonanswers #coonheadcanons #coonwrites #yay gladnis!

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