#which they clearly say they would in the order confirmation email :(

[theflyingfeeling]

I still haven't received the shipping confirmation for the BC sweatpants :(

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google makes millions on paid abortion disinformation

Google’s search quality has been in steady decline for years, and Google assures us that they’re working on it, though the most visible effort is replacing links to webpages with lengthy, florid paragraphs written by a confident habitual liar chatbot:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

The internet is increasingly full of garbage, much of it written by other confident habitual liar chatbots, which are now extruding plausible sentences at enormous scale. Future confident habitual liar chatbots will be trained on the output of these confident liar chatbots, producing Jathan Sadowski’s “Habsburg AI”:

https://twitter.com/jathansadowski/status/1625245803211272194

But the declining quality of Google Search isn’t merely a function of chatbot overload. For many years, Google’s local business listings have been terrible. Anyone who’s tried to find a handyman, a locksmith, an emergency tow, or other small businessperson has discovered that Google is worse than useless for this. Try to search for that locksmith on the corner that you pass every day? You won’t find them — but you will find a fake locksmith service that will dispatch an unqualified, fumble-fingered guy with a drill and a knockoff lock, who will drill out your lock, replace it with one made of bubblegum and spit, and charge you 400% the going rate (and then maybe come back to rob you):

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/31/business/fake-online-locksmiths-may-be-out-to-pick-your-pocket-too.html

Google is clearly losing the fraud/spam wars, which is pretty awful, given that they have spent billions to put every other search engine out of business. They spend $45b every year to secure exclusivity deals that prevent people from discovering or using rivals — that’s like buying a whole Twitter every year, just so they don’t have to compete:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/how-a-google-antitrust-case-could/

But there’s an even worse form of fraudulent listing on Google, one they could do something about, but choose not to: ad-fraud. For all the money and energy thrown into “dark SEO” to trick Google into putting your shitty, scammy website at the top of the listings, there’s a much simpler method. All you need to do is pay Google — buy an ad, and your obviously fraudulent site will be right there, at the top of the search results.

There are so many top searches that go to fraud or malware sites. Tech support is a favorite. It’s not uncommon to search for tech support for Google products and be served a fake tech-support website where a scammer will try to trick you into installing a remote-access trojan and then steal everything you have, and/or take blackmail photos of you with your webcam:

https://www.bleepingcomputer.com/news/security/google-search-ads-infiltrated-again-by-tech-support-scams/

This is true even when Google has a trivial means of reliably detecting fraud. Take the restaurant monster-in-the-middle scam: a scammer clones the menu of a restaurant, marking up their prices by 15%, and then buys the top ad slot for searches for that restaurant. Search for the restaurant, click the top link, and land on a lookalike site. The scammer collects your order, bills your card, then places the same order, in your name, with the restaurant.

The thing is, Google runs these ads even for restaurants that are verified merchants — Google mails the restaurant a postcard with a unique number on it, and the restaurant owner keys that number in to verify that they are who they say they are. It would not be hard for Google to check whether an ad for a business matches one of its verified merchants, and, if so, whether the email address is a different one from the verified one on file. If so, Google could just email the verified address with a “Please confirm that you’re trying to buy an ad for a website other than the one we have on file” message:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Google doesn’t do this. Instead, they accept — and make a fortune from — paid disinformation, across every category.

But not all categories of paid disinformation are equally bad: it’s one thing to pay a 15% surcharge on a takeout meal, but there’s a whole universe of paid medical disinformation that Google knows about and has an official policy of tolerating.

This paid medical disinformation comes from “crisis pregnancy centers”: these are fake abortion clinics that raise huge sums from religious fanatics to buy ads that show up for people seeking information about procuring an abortion. If they are duped by one of these ads, they are directed to a Big Con-style storefront staffed by people who pretend that they perform abortions, but who bombard their marks with falsehoods about health complications.

These con artists try to trick their marks into consenting to sexual assault — a transvaginal ultrasound. This is a prelude to another fraud, in which the “sporadic electrical impulses” generated by an early fetal structure is a “heartbeat” (early fetuses do not have hearts, so they cannot produce heartbeats):

https://www.nbcnews.com/health/womens-health/heartbeat-bills-called-fetal-heartbeat-six-weeks-pregnancy-rcna24435

If the victim still insists on getting an abortion, the fraudsters will use deceptive tactics to draw out the process until they run out the clock for a legal abortion, procuring a forced birth through deceit.

It is hard to imagine a less ethical course of conduct. Google’s policy of accepting “crisis pregnancy center” ads is the moral equivalent of taking money from fake oncologists who counsel people with cancer to forego chemotherapy in favor of juice-cleanses.

There is no ambiguity here: the purpose of a “crisis prengancy center” is to deceive people seeking abortions into thinking they are dealing with an abortion clinic, and then further deceive them into foregoing the abortion, by means of lies, sexually invasive and unnecessary medical procedures, and delaying tactics.

Now, a new report from the Center for Countering Digital Hate finds that Google made $10m last year on ads from “crisis pregnancy centers”:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-made-millions-from-ads-for-fake-abortion-clinics/

Many of these “crisis pregnancy centers” are also registered 501(c)3 charities, which makes them eligible for Google’s ad grants, which provide free ads to nonprofits. Marketers who cater to “crisis pregnancy center” advertise that they can help their clients qualify for these grants. In 2019, Google was caught giving tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of free ads to “crisis pregnancy centers”:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2019/may/12/google-advertising-abortion-obria

The keywords that “crisis pregnancy centers” bid up include “Planned Parenthood” — meaning that if actual Planned Parenthood clinics want to appear at the top of the search for “planned parenthood,” they have to outbid the fraudsters seeking to deceive Planned Parenthood patients.

Google has an official policy of requiring customers that pay for ads matching abortion-related search terms to label their ads to state whether or not they provide abortions, but the report documents failures to enforce this policy. The labels themselves are confusing: for example, abortion travel funds have to be labeled as “not providing abortions.”

Google isn’t afraid to ban whole categories of advertising: for example, Google has banned Plan C, a nonprofit that provides information about medication abortions. The company erroneously classes Plan C as an “unauthorized pharmacy.” But Google continues to offer paid disinformation on behalf of forced birth groups that claim there is such a thing as “abortion reversal” (there isn’t — but the “abortion reversal” drug cocktail is potentially lethal).

This is inexcusable, but it’s not unique — and it’s not even that profitable. $10m is a drop in the bucket for a company like Google. When you’re lighting $45b/year on fire just to prevent competition, $10m is chump change. A better way to understand Google’s relationship to paid disinformation can be found by studying Facebook’s own paid disinformation problem.

Facebook has a well-documented problem with paid political disinformation — unambiguous, illegal materials, like paid notices advising people to remember to vote on November 6th (when election day falls on November 5th). The company eventually promised to put political ads in a repository where they could be inspected by all parties to track its progress in blocking paid disinformation.

Facebook did a terrible job at this, with huge slices of its political ads never landing in its transparency portal. We know this because independent researchers at NYU’s engineering school built an independent, crowdsourced tracker called Ad Observer, which scraped all the ads volunteers saw and uploaded them to a portal called Ad Observatory.

Facebook viciously attacked the NYU project, falsely smearing it as a privacy risk (the plugin was open source and was independently audited by Mozilla researchers, who confirmed that it didn’t collect any personal information). When that didn’t work, they sent a stream of legal threats, claiming that NYU was trafficking in a “circumvention device” as defined by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, a felony carrying a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine — for a first offense.

Eventually, NYU folded the project. Facebook, meanwhile, has fired or reassigned most of the staff who work on political ad transparency:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/06/get-you-coming-and-going/#potemkin-research-program

What are we to make of this? Facebook claims that it doesn’t need or want political ad revenue, which are a drop in the bucket and cause all kinds of headaches. That’s likely true — but Facebook’s aversion to blocking political ads doesn’t extend to spending a lot of money to keep paid political disinfo off the platform.

The company could turn up the sensitivity on its blocking algorithm, which would generate more false positives, in which nonpolitical ads are misidentified and have to be reviewed by humans. This is expensive, and it’s an expense Facebook can avoid if it can suppress information about its failures to block paid political disinformation. It’s cheaper to silence critics than it is to address their criticism.

I don’t think Google gives a shit about the $10m it gets from predatory fake abortion clinics. But I think the company believes that the PR trouble it would get into for blocking them — and the expense it would incur in trying to catch and block fake abortion clinic ads — are real liabilities. In other words, it’s not about the $10m it would lose by blocking the ads — Google wants to avoid the political heat it would take from forced birth fanatics and cost of the human reviewers who would have to double-check rejected ads.

In other words, Google doesn’t abet fraudulent abortion clinics because they share the depraved sadism of the people who run these clinics. Rather, Google teams up with these sadists out of cowardice and greed.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/15/paid-medical-disinformation/#crisis-pregnancy-centers

[Image ID: A ruined streetscene. Atop a pile of rubble sits a dilapidated shack. In front of the shack is a letterboard with the word ABORTIONS set off-center and crooked. In the foreground is a carny barker at a podium, gesturing at the sign and the shack. The barker's head and face have been replaced with the Google logo. Within the barker's podium is a heap of US$100 bills.]

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[electronic-apocalypse-ask]

How you two meet :0

And here I brought some donuts!! *Throw a box full of donuts at u*

He was pretty sure he had explored every single way there was to say “this is a deal you don’t want to miss!” In Common. And he must’ve utilized each and every way at least three or four times each.

CS rotated through them, kept everything sounding new and exciting. But he was a broken record, playing the same rehearsed lines of dialogue over and over again like an NPC in a video game, or a character in an animated film who was forever set to repeat the same lines of dialogue no matter how many times you played it.

And that’s what he was doing right now, about to deliver the deal that would hook this client and send thousands of dollars NME’s way.

But just as the words got ready to leave his mouth, a loud POP came from somewhere behind him, the lights in the room flickering a few times. Instinctively, albeit where he got said instinct to begin with wasn’t something he could tell you, his hands and arms flew over his head as if he anticipated something sharp hitting him.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” He gritted through his customer service smile, and not giving the client a chance to distract him any further with anymore questions, the call ended and the screen went black.

CS pulled away from his desk, fanning a hand to clear the smoke and muffling a cough. He was no technician, but one look at the oxygen filtration ducts spilling some unpleasant scented smog told him all he needed to know. A quick check of the room’s interface confirmed that the life support systems were not functioning as intended.

Regrettably, he’d have to put in a maintenance request to Phi.

A groan escaped him, he raised his glasses just enough to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Just his luck. Wasn’t this supposed to be the newer of the two headquarters bases?Whoever made that mistake, he was going to have a word, or two, or a demonbeast with.

He followed the protocols, having the system send over a data report to be sent over when he made the call, which, as to be expected with Phi (what did they even DO over there all day? Because with how often he seemed to be the one stuck with system security and dealing with network bugs, it was clearly not their jobs) it took several long moments of being on hold and only somewhat nervously checking the status of the life support systems (oh the joys of being reminded that he was in the middle of outer space with only light years of the soundless filled hard vacuum surrounding him) for CS to finally get an answer.

“Hey what’s up?” The voice that answered had no video feed, sounded distracted, and there he sat in his suit and tie with that smile on his face and a silent desire to choke someone out if he had the strength and wasn’t behind a screen.

“What’s up is that I need to place an immediate emergency service order to have my station’s life support systems repaired.” CS often fit in jabs into his wording, but it wasn’t normally so pointed. Then again, perhaps some part of him knew that this fellow employee would not dare complain about him.

“Oh it’s Customer Service- uh- listen we’re having some problems of our own over here, short staffing and all that-“

He wanted to point out that he alone ran the entirety of customer service, he WAS the ONLY customer service, and he never used that as justification to slack off.

He bit his tongue.

“I assure you, it cannot wait. Send someone, anyone, over.” He replied.

“Ehh.. okay we have one guy, but you can’t complain when we send him okay? Given you did say ‘anyone’.”

He raised a brow behind his shades, wondering what in the name of Nightmare that meant. But whatever, it wasn’t like he could argue when the system that made the air breathable was down.

“I’m sure I’ll make do.” He went and sat back down, opting to answer emails and inquiries as the silence of the surrounding station, devoid of all but him, was occasionally broken by the system announcing ever so often how much oxygen was left in the station.

What was the worst that could happen?

Actually, he took that back. Because his mind immediately responded with ‘well, they don’t actually send anyone’ or ‘they send someone but he’s an absolute idiot who connects the wrong wire and blows this entire station up’.

Granted, what would actually occur, and the events that would follow, was never something that could ever possibly cross his mind.

-

CS: *grabbing Flare by the back of his jacket as he attempts to unhinge his jaw to eat all of them at once* You don’t even LIKE sweet things Flare, and you do NOT need sugar.

[lemonthepotato]

Generic Gatekeeping Rant About The Enneagram Community

I really wanted that to alliterate. Anyway, this is a rant about the overtyping of 6 and 9 in the community. Yes, overtyping. I’ll present some arguments on why I believe 6 and 9 are overtyped. Whether you agree or not is a different story. I think civil discourse is more important than ‘winning’ an argument, so to speak. So, I’ll hear anyone out who disagrees with any of my points. But, yes, I do believe that 6 and 9 are overtyped.

First of all, how did this 6/9 dilemma begin? Well, a lot of people mistype as 4/5/8 due to shallow descriptions. People read that 4’s are the artistic, deep, emotional type, and settle on that. People read that 5’s are knowledgable, isolated and logical, and settle on that. People read that 8’s are confident, assertive and strong-willed, and settle on that. These, of course, are shallow understandings of the types. However, an issue I’ve noticed in this community is overcompensating for one extreme with another. What do I believe this overcompensating to be? I believe that people are trying to ‘balance out’ the overtyping of 4/5/8 by typing people as 6 or 9, when they clearly are not, to maintain the rarity status of those. But where did this idea that 6 and 9 are ‘the most common type’ begin?

Apparently this idea began from a survey from the website enneagram-personality. Here is the description of the survey. “Here is our first table representing the distribution of the enneagram types from 189957 results, which displays an idea of the distribution within the population. Note that type 4 is potentially the type that tends to be most naturally interested in introspection. 4s would therefore be more likely to take this kind of test. So, their population might be slightly fewer in terms of percentage on a real scale.”

The first thing that popped out to me was the specific wording, that these are TEST results. So, I took the test myself to check its accuracy. They made me put my email in (thanks :) oh, that was sarcasm.)

I’m actually really shocked. I got 86% for 4w5 and 14% for enneagram 8, along with a small amount for 6/5/7. “Results analysis : The test seems to have correctly found your type.” For the record, I didn’t go out of my way to skew the questions that way. If anything, I thought it would be balanced for 4 and 6. I didn’t expect EIGHT to be that high up. Plus, while I don’t believe in wings, I would’ve expected the wing to be 3 over 4. Oh, and I got 1% for enneagram 2. Something about that result feels wrong. Not the fact I scored 4, but the fact that I scored 14% on 8. Methinks this test may be a bit shallow, considering I’ve been torn between 4 and 6. I’ve never considered 8. The only type I relate to less than 8 is 5. I think aside from 4 and 6 (the types I have been torn between historically) my ‘relation’ order would be: 9317285. Am I taking this test as confirmation that I’m a 4? Absolutely not.

I don’t believe a test can type people completely accurately, including me. Even if the stat that 9 and 6 are the most common types, the fact it’s followed by 4 is strange, because people claim 4 is one of the rarer types. If 3rd place is rare, then sure. 5 was also the lowest scored, which confirms my theory that this is the study people reference, as people also make that claim a lot. And, of course, 8 is right above 5 in rarity.

The test also claims “Note that type 4 is potentially the type that tends to be most naturally interested in introspection. 4s would therefore be more likely to take this kind of test. So, their population might be slightly fewer in terms of percentage on a real scale” which actually makes sense. Still, the way people treat 4 would make you think they’re the rarest thing ever.

So, let’s say that the 4 scores are off by 2%. That would make four just as common as 7’s are. I do find these test results interesting. But still, 4 was only 2000 results lower than 6 or 9. Again, even if that number was closer to 4000, that would make 4 as common as 7 is. I don’t see a lot of people gatekeeping 7, though.

I don’t trust statistics. There are too many variables that can skew it, and this one feels like selection bias. (People predisposed to liking the enneagram so not represent the general population) A test cannot accurately type everyone. I do not find it impossible that 9 and 6 are very common types. However, the enneagram community isn’t the world. The general population might not be interested in the enneagram, and certain types might be more interested than others. I’m just saying, a so4 or sp5 has a higher chance of being interested in the enneagram than a so6 or sp9. And I’m not saying that 6’s or 9’s are shallow, I’m just saying that being self-introspective is heavily tied to 4/5, just for different reasons.

So, this study isn’t proof of anything. How is a test with like, 30 questions, more reliable than reading shallow RHETI descriptions? It won’t be more or less reliable. Self-introspection should be more important. Actually studying how the types work. But I’ve noticed an interesting trend in the enneagram community… changing how types operate to gatekeep them more.

Let’s go a specific claim. “4’s know who they are strongly. If you don’t know who you are, you’re a 9.” (False) (Commonly said)

Let’s look at what Naranjo actually wrote about 4’s.

Naranjo describes the E4 as someone who takes on the identity of a chronic sufferer, with a bad self-image who obtain love through suffering. “also, they convey the attempt on the part of the person to be something different from what he or she is, perhaps connected to class envy. The lack of originality entailed by such imitativeness in turn; perpetuates an envy of originality—just as the attempt to imitate original individuals and the wish to emulate spontaneity are doomed to fail.” Wow, what a strong self-identity we have there!

The E4 is described as someone who was only validated through their suffering in childhood. Being happy wasn’t allowed, crying, attention-seeking and pain got them love and affection.

The E4 is described as someone who uses their suffering to get love, who has a negative self image and identifies as a victim/sufferer. No where does that description mention strong sense of self. Read it for yourself; here. https://www.personalitycafe.com/threads/naranjos-character-and-neurosis-ennea-type-4.148114/

It’s directly from character and neurosis. I also noticed a staunch lack of the word “individuality.” It’s not about presenting authenticity or individually, but presenting the image of brokenness, mystique and uniqueness for the sake of attracting others. So, I find the idea that 4’s can’t struggle to know who they are very strange. Heart types are about presenting a certain image, after all. 2’s present the image of being helpful and selfless (except sp2’s. I love sp2’s they’re so based and kinda relatable. Just a little.) 3’s present the image of success and 4’s present the image of unique suffering.

Why would a heart type struggling to know who they are be such an unusual thing? Yes, 4’s overidentify with their negative traits, but that actually indicates a skewing of the true self.

What about type 9? Naranjo describes the type 9 as grounded, empathetic, and self-numbing. They numb themselves to avoid chaos. They identify with others to avoid exploring uncomfortable inner turmoil. They over-simplify, follow routines and immerse themselves in physical activities to remain in a comfortable state of mind. The 9 lives vicariously through things or people instead of through themselves.

So, here’s my hypothesis. Wouldn’t a type 9 be less interested in delving deep into typology, because they might have to deal with uncomfortable levels of self-reflection? I’m not saying 9’s are stupid NPC’s incapable of self-reflection, I’m saying that 9’s coping mechanism is literally avoiding themselves. For the record, I could be misinterpreting things. I have a hard time understanding complex words and shit, so this is just my interpretation.

This actually sounds like the polar opposite of a 4, so saying a lot of 4’s are mistyped 9’s is… strange. Don’t get me wrong, going by shallow descriptions, it’s possible. But now I’m wondering how many 6’s and 9’s actually ARE 4’s or another type.

Another thing about 4’s is that people will type obvious sx4’s as sx6’s or even sx8’s. I don’t even understand why people mistake sx6 for sx8. They’re not even remotely similar types. Yes, 8’s are described as cynical and distrusting, but they’re also reckless. Sx6’s LARP as reckless, bur fear consequences. Sx6’s go against fear by confronting it. 8’s tend to do what they want with little regard for consequences. And if you think THAT’S mean, write what Naranjo actually wrote about 8’s. The dude really didn’t like certain types lol. Though it’s more understandable why sx4 and sx8 would be mixed up.

Anyway, I know I’ve been focusing on 4 gatekeeping a lot. That’s because it’s the type I see gatekept the most. And to rip the band aid off, I am biased, because I’m 80% sure I’m a core 4, but I’ve only been typed as a four (sx4) by one person on the internet. 50% said sx6, the other 50% said sx9, and someone said 1. Now, here’s the funny part, the strange part, the weird part… how the fuck do you get sx6 and sx9 typings in the same post? Unless… mayhaps… people are predisposed to slap the label onto people who show any level of nuance beyond an easily identifiable type. Then we’re suddenly 6’s or 9’s, and ‘unhealthy’ at that.

Granted, the post I made was a mess, because I wrote it while extremely anxious and caffeinated. I’ll probably write a new one soon. Then we can judge if I’m a “real 4.” As if I have any fucking emotional attachment to a number in a system. Who WANTS to be a 4? I was in denial in 2019 because I was repulsed by the idea of being a 4. I’m not repulsed by the idea of being a sx6. Sx6’s seem cool. I’m not repulsed by the idea of being a 9. I just don’t feel like either. Also, my other typology? EII INFP ELVF RLUEN NPBV SEFA. Yeah, that really screams 9.

You know, another reason I didn’t want to identify as 4 was because of how overtyped it was and still is. Not only that, but the amount of gatekeeping makes it exhausting. Sure, if saying I’m a sx9 will make you happy, biggest nine ever. Y’all get way too defensive over a set of numbers. I’m actually tempted to make my own website with enneagram descriptions that don’t suck. Don’t test me. I might do it, because I no longer trust anyone in this community to have accurate information.

Another problem I have with this community is watering down what 6 and 9 means. “9’s can look like any type.” That is ridiculous, I’m sorry, but that kind of logic leads to the Barnum Effect. Sure, 9’s can technically look like “any” type, maybe on the surface, but if you dig even slightly into the structure of a 9, there are specific patterns of behaviour that make a 9 a 9. I’m just saying that if the 9 in question is a person who represses their anger, has strong moral values that they are forceful about, is perfectionistic, has an inner critic, constantly self denying… maybe that’s not a 9, maybe that’s a 1. If the 6 in question struggles with envy, is concerned with the self and withdraw from others on a frequent basis, maybe that’s not a 6, maybe that’s a four. Get it? This logic of over complicating and adding specific barriers of entry for hexad types while downplaying what it means to be a 6 or 9 only serves to validate the elitist gatekeeping of certain types and is barely based on logic. Sorry if that’s mean, but it’s what I believe to be correct here, so.

Also, I think there’s a lot of a domino effect of one person making a claim about a type, another person thinking “that’s believable,” and parroting it, and then it just becomes seen as fact; mob mentality, kind of.

[facelessxchurch]

Oh no I know they already dropped him but I meant why they dropped him. The style of the comic book was very fnaf or maybe a better term would be “kiddie horror” it’s a style obviously meant for children (and possibly also to be done quickly) which despite having a primary audience of literal children I don’t think is what derek wants for the series.

Specially when compared to what appears in the grimoir.

Haha, ok so here is the thing. I put on my conspiracy theory tin foil head in a private chat and was like "imagine if Landy kicked PJ Holden bc he didn't like sharing the the spot light" bc Holden did get to be at some signings alongside Landy and sign stuff too.

But then I watched the Forbidden Planet TV interview and omg I think that theory is actually correct??? I even feel like this interview is what was the biggest reason for Holden to get gone. The interviewer was clearly far more interested in Holden than Landy and you could see how bitter Landy was about it, like, he wasn't hiding it at all.

Here is the link to the interview.

So here are my notes from that interview below the cut bc it got kinda long:

These were written before I got the ask, so I just wrote down stuff that got my attention in the order they showed up instead of just stuff relating to this ask.

Landy's cat is named Groomer. [Fitting]

The interviewer is more focused on Holden than Landy in the beginning.

Holden and Landy were following each other on Twitter but had barely spoken. It just happened that about the time Holden was open for more work, Landy got the OK for an SP comic. So Holden getting hired was a coincidence.

We have it confirmed that the SP comic only got the OK from HarperCollins bc the "Heartstopper" comic was successful and now every publisher wants a comics department. SP/Landy were chosen as their first graphic novel bc Landy already had comic experience writing for Marvel.

"Bad Magic" takes place in the middle of the gap between book 15 and 16. It's a 6-year gap, so that's 3 years after UtE.

Originally the plot of the comics was going to be intertwined with the books. He MIGHT still do that. But for now comic readers should be able to follow the plot of the comics without having to read the books.

Landy is certain the book readrs will read the comic bc "they are hooked".

The interviewer doesn't ask follow-up questions about what Landy just said. Instead moves to Holden and compliments his creature design then asked him how it was to handle pre-establed characters like Skul and Val.

Holden: everybody sees a different version of Skul in their heads since he hasn't really been physically represented apart from covers and tie in merch [aka contradicts himself]. The challenge was making him emote since visually that's harder than just writing it [unfortunately the video did not show Landy's face at that part]. Valkyrie is a harder character to get right apparently.

Holden got little notes for all the monster designs. Apparently, there were histories to each monster but they didn't really get into that. [surprising, I thought the designs were random tbh]

[this segment starts at 23:31] Landy was unprepared for the comic thus Holden didn't get the whole script at once. It's implied Landy was still writing chapters while Holden had already started drawing the pages. So on Landy's request he had to go back and edit previous pages to make "tiny alterations". At some point "they" told Holdens they needed an extra page in every chapter bc they needed the page turn to be on a certain page since they hadn't taken into account that every chapter break would be a page. Landy sent a panicked Email to HarperCollins to suggest putting in an extra page. At that point they were already halfway through. Fortunately they could use a 'moment' from each chapter and expand it over the corresponding chapter break page.

=> AKA the comic was badly planned.

Landy says he doesn't know how well his books sell (in this particular case BD) bc he will be disappointed if it doesn't meet his expectations. He doesn't even follow sport, named the example on refusing to watch a rugby match with Ireland's team bc he doesn't "do disappointment". He "hasn't got a clue how they are doing". [a lie so he doesn't have to disclose the sales are bad? or is he really that immature?]

He thinks the readers have embraced "Bad Magic".

Interviews says their (Holden and Landy) creative chemistry was good and the artworks and designs were brilliant, once again praising Holden more than Landy.

Holden seemed more excited about the comic. It was well visible behind him the entire time and in the end, he showed it off excitingly. Landy did not display such enthusiasm.

Landy was giving death glares every time Holden got attention instead of him. He seemed really unhappy here when Holden tried to include him in the conversation.

I guess Landy hopes rotating artists will prevent the artist(s) from outshining him. But I do worry it will cause him to choose an bad artist on purpose. I could see him tanking his own series for petty ego reasons, believing his writing alone is good enough to save the comics. Not how comics work. Also his writing is shit and gets worse with each new book, so there is that.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 4: In Which I Embroil Myself In A Bus Station Mosh-Pit

My bus to Faro was due to depart from Lisbon at 9am, this morning. That may sound like a fairly relaxed time to make it to a bus station for, though given the slightly-north-of-half-an-hour travel time and my resolution to be places I needed to be in a decent enough time not to have to run-walk anywhere on this trip, saw me, the previous night, tearfully setting my alarm for 7:30am.

Fortunately, though, some very thoughtful drivers outside my hostel had opted to start beeping their horns at around quarter to seven and simply refused to stop, no matter what I or anyone else did or said, so that was cool. It was like I beat my alarm. 1-0 to me alarm. I win. I also felt like my brain had been hollowed out with an ice cream scoop, but a win is a win.

So there I was, up in reasonably okay time, my belongings pre-packed and my sandwiches for the trip pre-made, the night before. All I had to do was put my bag on my shoulders and leave, after putting my pants on, also.

My carefully laid plans, however, hadn't taken into account waking up and feeling like I had been rolled down the side of a hill made entirely of night-sweat. I really wanted a shower. I looked at the clock. I just about had time, if I rushed. And so I did. Or I tried. I wasn't quite functional enough to rush and so “rushing” very quickly became “disassociating while staring at the shower nozzle for a full ten minutes”, which I'll be honest, did put me rather behind schedule, but at least I no longer had swamp-ass.

I left the apartment a little late, squeaking, both with cleanliness and because that's the noise my bones make when crushed under the weight of my big bag and headed to the bus station. My journey there was of no note whatsoever, other than it being very straightforward and, mostly, fairly comfortable. As I say, Lisbon's infrastructure is really quite good and I don't care how much like Alan Partridge with all the humour removed that makes me sound.

Even the best thought out infrastructure, however, is of little match for the whirling maelstrom of absolute fucking chaos that is Flixbus – who you may remember from last year, just dumped me in the wrong fucking country, in the middle of the night on a journey I undertook with them, last year.

The Flixbus buses arrived at the station with literally zero rhyme and even less reason. They would pull in over three – or occasionally – four fairly disparate columns of stances, with each column having space for three – or occasionally – four different buses to stop. The buses were incredibly frequent and clearly were pulling up without order or schedule or, to be honest, particularly clear signage as to their destinations. What this meant, practically, was that each time a bus pulled in, which, again, was all the time, the entire throng of Flix-Punters, which must have tallied, at points, in the region of 200 people, would lurch, as one, from lane to lane, from stance to stance, in order to check and – usually – be disappointed that the freshly arrived bus wasn't theirs. It was chaotic and claustrophobic and stressful and – worst of all - had been made a necessity by Flixbus' ramshackle scheduling. It was also very smelly.

My particular bus hadn't pulled in by the time the confirmation email had told me to be at the station.

“It's probably fine...” I reasoned, a modicum of anxiety just beginning to creep into the peripheries of my mind. “...I might just check the tracking info, to be sure.”

I did. It was broken. Brilliant. What it did say, however, was “on schedule”, which is why, at 9am – the point at which I was supposed to be departing – with no sign whatsoever of the bus I was supposed to be departing on, I began to worry.

“This is so chaotic, I've probably missed it pulling in on some other, esoteric stance and it's gone without me and I have genuinely no opportunity to check if that's true and I should buy another ticket or just wait here in case it's running late, or – oh, never mind, there it is.”

It turned out I had bested the disorder of Flixbus by simply bumbling around in vaguely the right place and keeping my eyes open. That's two for two on victories. God, I'm strong.

The bus journey itself was reasonably pleasant, if I'm honest. I wouldn't describe it as comfortable, but no one ate any oranges on it and when the person in front of me did recline their seat directly into my knees, they turned around, apologised and returned their seat to the upright position, so that was nice. The only thing that marred the experience, to be honest, was the presence of a full-on Portugese Karen, who kept bumping my seat as she walked past it on the way to complain to the driver about something or nothing, no fooling, five times in the first hour. Also her husband was playing videos on his phone and wouldn't wear headphones. Pricks.

Soon though, I was Algarving it up and found myself spat out into some arid patch of industrial waste ground which Flix somehow imagined constituted a bus-stop, which it didn't.

It was just after 12:30pm when I arrived into Faro. My airbnb host, Nelson had set the – frankly ludicrous – check in time for his apartment at 4. I found myself, then, with multiple hours to kill, though, sadly, not enough energy or constitution in my back and shoulder muscles to do anything with it. My bag had somehow gotten heavier than it had been this morning. I didn't fancy lugging it around in the head for three and a half hours, and so, I just sorta...sat.

First, I sat in a nice park, which smelled a bit of piss and ate my lunch

Yummy...

Then, I dawdled off to the nearby Faro Pier, which was basically just a rope bridge and which smelled a bit of raw sewage, and listened to my podcast for an hour

Pictured: The untameable majesty of the ocean

Then I ambled up to the approximate location of the apartment in the misguided hope that I would be able to kill the rest of the time in a nearby cafe. As it turned out, all the listed cafes in the area were either closed, permanently shut down or seemingly had never existed, and so I found myself in the local Burger King with an hour and a half to spare. I ordered a portion of Chilli Cheese Bites and a milkshake and, after waiting – standing – for genuinely twenty minutes to get these two incredibly simple and quick to make items, I was allowed to slope off to a quiet table, at which I sat, nursing my quote-unquote food incredibly slowly,

Pictured: The Untameable majesty of late-stage capitalism.

listening to the remainder of my podcast, the world worryingly swaying to-and-fro each and every time I closed my eyes (fatigue? Or something more sinister? I genuinely still don't know! Stay tuned to find out!) for an hour and a bit, before making the five or so minute walk to the apartment.

Gaining entry to the apartment was all automated; the door to the flat itself being opened remotely by some special remote-door-opening gadget of Nelson's whom, to this very day, I still haven't met – although to be honest I am fine with that. This gave the whole experience a bit of an impersonal, sterile feel, not aided in the slightest by Nelson having left out a selection of teas and coffees for my please, but still expecting me to pay fifty cents for each one I used. Your house is literally next door to a supermarket - what possible incentive do I have to use your teabags at an overinflated price? You haven't thought this through, Nelson. Regardless, I was now staying in a genuinely comfortable four room guest house, which I had entirely to myself, so it was fine. I wasn't even that annoyed. It was fine.

After a brief trip to the next-door supermarket which I genuinely do not remember, though seemingly resulted in my purchasing what had to be the least palatable crisps I have ever eaten – yes, worse than the feta ones from Montenegro; these smelled like blue cheese and tasted like sick – I returned home, for a very big sleep. I did not leave the apartment for the rest of the night and to be honest, no force on this earth, not even a house-fire could have persuaded me to do otherwise.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Matthieu Ricard is an ordained Buddhist monk and an internationally best-selling author of books about altruism, animal rights, happiness and wisdom. His humanitarian efforts led to his homeland’s awarding him the French National Order of Merit. (Ricard’s primary residence is a Nepalese monastery.) He was the Dalai Lama’s French interpreter and holds a Ph.D in cellular genetics. In the early 2000s, researchers at the University of Wisconsin found that Ricard’s brain produced gamma waves — which have been linked to learning, attention and memory — at such pronounced levels that the media named him “the world’s happiest man.” He was also late for our Zoom, and it was driving me nuts. Didn’t he get my confirmation email? Why hadn’t he emailed to say he was running late? I had deadlines! Tight deadlines! My carefully planned schedule was being shot to hell! Alas, everything turned out fine, as it was always going to. Clearly, I had much to learn about taming the mind. “You should not get quickly discouraged,” said Ricard, whose memoir, “Notebooks of a Wandering Monk,” is forthcoming. “You cannot master playing the piano now. These skills take time.”

OK, so I’ve been meditating twice a day for probably 15 years, and I feel as if it has improved my ability to control my thoughts and emotions instead of letting them control me. But still sometimes I’ll walk by a mirror and have an extreme flash of self-loathing. Or I’ll get all agitated over something stupid, like finding a parking spot. Will that stuff ever go away? Well, they can. Absolutely. You know, once I was on the India Today Conclave.1 They said, “Can you give us the three secrets of happiness?” I said: “First, there’s no secret. Second, there’s not just three points. Third, it takes a whole life, but it is the most worthy thing you can do.” I’m happy to feel I am on the right track. I cannot imagine feeling hate or wanting someone to suffer.

It’s not the best thing to say, but I can easily imagine wanting certain people to suffer. How are we supposed to deal gracefully with our polar opposites in a world that feels increasingly about polarities? I mean, the Dalai Lama could talk to Vladimir Putin all he wants, but Putin’s not going to say, “Your compassion has changed me.” Once, a long time ago, someone said to me, who is the person you would like to spend 24 hours alone with? I said Saddam Hussein. I said, “Maybe, maybe, some small change in him might be possible.” When we speak of compassion, you want everybody to find happiness. No exception. You cannot just do that for those who are good to you or close to you. It has to be universal. You may say that Putin and Bashar al-Assad are the scum of humanity, and rightly so. But compassion is about remedying the suffering and its cause. How would that look? You can wish that the system that allowed someone like that to emerge is changed. I sometimes visualize Donald Trump going to hospitals, taking care of people, taking migrants to his home. You can wish that the cruelty, the indifference, the greed may disappear from these people’s minds. That’s compassion; that’s being impartial.

But why does compassion have to be universal? Because this is different from moral judgment. It doesn’t prevent you from saying that those are walking psychopaths, that they have no heart. But compassion is to remedy suffering wherever it is, whatever form it takes and whoever causes it. So what is the object of compassion here? It is the hatred and the person under its power. If someone beats you with a stick, you don’t get angry with the stick — you get angry with the person. These people we are talking about are like sticks in the hands of ignorance and hatred. We can judge the acts of a person at a particular time, but compassion is wishing that the present aspect of suffering and the causes of suffering may be remedied.

What are the limits of compassion? Could blowing up a pipeline be a compassionate act? Well, we discussed a lot in those meetings with the Dalai Lama at the time of Kosovo what we call “surgical” violence.2 But the problem is if it triggers a chain reaction, leading to escalation from both sides. Also, if the barrel is bad, all the apples get rotten, so the system has to change. You can see that with this deep divide now in the United States based on ignorance. Delusion is a cause of suffering. If you could get rid of that, that will alleviate suffering in many forms.

For a while now, people have been calling you the world’s happiest man. Do you feel that happy? It’s a big joke. We cannot know the level of happiness through neuroscience. It’s a good title for journalists to use, but I cannot get rid of it. Maybe on my tomb, it will say, “Here lies the happiest person in the world.” Anyway, I enjoy every moment of life, but of course there are moments of extreme sadness — especially when you see so much suffering. But this should kindle your compassion, and if it kindles your compassion, you go to a stronger, healthier, more meaningful way of being. That’s what I call happiness. It’s not as if all the time you jump for joy. Happiness is more like your baseline. It’s where you come to after the ups and downs, the joy and sorrows. We perceive even more intensely — bad taste, seeing someone suffer — but we keep this sense of the depth. That’s what meditation brings.

Do you ever feel despair? There’s no point. We can feel sad if we see suffering, but sadness is not against a deep sense of eudaemonia,3 of fulfillment, because sadness goes with compassion, sadness goes with determination to remedy the cause. Despair: You’re at the bottom of the hole, there’s no way out. That’s fatalism. But suffering comes from causes and conditions. Those are impermanent, and impermanence is what allows for change.

Your response to my question about despair was, “There’s no point,” which suggests that you’re making conscious choices about your feelings — whether to follow them or not — based on their perceived value. That’s not something everyone is able to do. Short of also becoming a Buddhist monk, how might other people start developing the ability to control their emotions like you can? Emotions are just like any characteristic of our mental landscape: They can change. We can become more familiar with their process; we can catch them early. It’s like when you see a pickpocket in a room: Aha, be careful. Twenty-five hundred years of contemplative science4 and 40 years of neuroplasticity — everything tells you we can change. You were not born knowing how to write your columns. You know it’s the fruit of your efforts. So why would major human qualities be engraved in stone from the start? That would be a total exception to every other skill we have. That’s why I like the idea of Richard Davidson’s5 that happiness is a skill. It can be deeper, more present in your mental landscape. We deal with our mind from morning to evening, but we spend very little attention on improving the way we translate outer conditions, good or bad, into happiness or misery. And it’s crucial, because that’s what determines our day-to-day experience of the world!

But if I were explaining that to someone, they still might say, OK, how do I change? Is the answer as simple as “Just start thinking about compassion”? When you are in that moment of unconditional love — say, for a child — this fills our mind for 30 seconds, maybe a minute, then suddenly it’s gone. We all have experienced that. The only difference now is to cultivate that in some way. Make it stay a little longer. Try to be quiet with it for 10 minutes, 20 minutes. If it goes away, try to bring it back. Give it vibrancy and presence. That’s exactly what meditation is about. If you do that for 20 minutes a day, even for three weeks, this will trigger a change.

Who gets on your nerves at the monastery? My nerves? Once in New York, when I was promoting one of my books, a very nice journalist lady said, “What really upsets your nerves when you arrive in New York?” I said, “Why do you presuppose anything is upsetting me?” It’s not about something being on your nerves. It’s about trying to see the best way to proceed. Paul Ekman6 once asked me to remember when I got really angry. I had to go back 20 years: I had a brand-new laptop, my first one, in Bhutan, and the monk who didn’t know what it was, he was passing by with a bowl filled with roasted barley flour and spilled some on it. So I got mad, and then he looked at me, and he said, “Ha-ha, you’re getting angry!” That was about it. I get indignation all the time about things that should be remedied. Indignation is related to compassion. Anger can be out of malevolence.

Not to reduce 2,500 years of contemplative science to a single sentence, but is there a thought that you can suggest to people that they can carry in their minds that might be helpful to them as they go through life’s challenges? If you can, as much as possible, cultivate that quality of human warmth, wanting genuinely for other people to be happy; that’s the best way to fulfill your own happiness. This is also the most gratifying state of mind. Those guys who believe in selfishness and say, “You do that because you feel good about it” — this is so stupid. Because if you help others but you don’t care a damn, then you won’t feel anything! Wanting to separate doing something for others from feeling good yourself is like trying to make a flame that burns with light but no warmth. If we try humbly, with some happiness, to enhance our benevolence, that will be the best way to have a good life. That’s the best modest advice I could give.

What’s the wisest thing the Dalai Lama ever said to you? I remember I came out of this one-year retreat to take care of my father.7 At the same time I was interpreting for the Dalai Lama in Brussels. So I told him: “I’m going back to the retreat. What is your advice?” He said, “In the beginning, meditate on compassion; in the middle, meditate on compassion; in the end, meditate on compassion.”

Sorry, are you wearing an Apple Watch? Yes.

Why does a Buddhist monk need an Apple Watch? I walk in the forest. I try to count 10,000 steps to be healthy at 77 years old. I don’t do many interviews anymore, but when I do, I usually don’t put this on, because the first thing the guys say is “Why do you have an Apple Watch?”

I realize this is a question that no one on the path to enlightenment would ask, but broadly speaking, am I on the right path?

You? Yes. [Laughs.] I mean, I cannot make a clinical examination, but I feel that you resonate with ideas which are dear to me. So that’s a good sign.

I’ll take it! If you had said, “Oh, that’s all rubbish” — you know, once there was a French journalist, very cynical, and he said to me, “This thing about becoming a better person and all that, this is the politics of the hash trade.” I don’t know what he meant. But what I said was, “My dear friend, if genuinely trying to become a better person and do a little good — if that’s the politics of the hash trade, I’m happy to spend my whole life in the hash trade.”

[wenevergotusedtoegypt]

Incident 1:

Supervisee is in charge of proofreading something my boss writes, setting it up in an email, sending my boss a test to approve, and then sending it out post-approval.

One week it doesn’t go out.

Supervisee claims she absolutely sent my boss a test, got back an approval, and sent it out. But my boss says she never received a test and certainly never approved a test she didn’t get. And both supervisee and I are on the list of people who would have received the final email. Neither of us did. I look in the email system and there is no record of either a test being sent or the actual email being sent. Clearly, like very clearly, she just screwed up and forgot to do it. But she maintains that she did it and that it must have been a glitch. (Which, best case scenario it really somehow was a glitch...but then she just didn’t notice that she herself didn’t receive the email? And didn’t follow up? Not good either.)

Incidents 2 and 3:

Supervisee was tasked with a project that involved copying an old project and then altering it in a specified way. This alteration needed to be made in 6 separate places. It was only made in 5 of them. Thankfully, in this specific context it wasn’t that big a deal, but the same mistake in another context could potentially be an ENORMOUS deal. I explained this to her and asked her to make sure to double check next time that the alteration was made in all required places.

Incident 2

Supervisee says ok and asks, since this general topic has come up a bunch recently, if we can “work in a basic training.” I am super confused, because I sent her a comprehensive training on the topic on her 3rd day of work, and she told me she completed it. She claims that the training she watched had barely anything to say on the details of the topic. She claims it was a live training, but I didn’t send her to a live training, I sent her to a recording, and I can’t find any evidence that a live training on this topic was done any time in proximity to the time in question. The best case scenario here is that there really was a live training, the presenter inexplicably ended it without finishing the stated subject matter, and supervisee was just like “ok I guess I don’t need to know the rest” and never followed up or let me know. She also threw in something about how “well I guess I didn’t follow up because the way we were discussing this program at the time, it didn’t seem like you were going to have me be the one to do this thing” which like...why on earth would I ask you to take a training on something irrelevant to your job. Why would I do that.

Incident 3

Supervisee claims that she knows what this topic IS, but had no idea how to actually make the change in all the places or that it needed to be made separately in all the places. She says that she only made the change in one place, and that she has no idea how it was made in the other 4 in which it was made. Except...that’s not how the program works. If you only make the change in one place, it will only be made in that place. Period. In order for it to have been made in 5/6 places, someone had to manually make the change 5 times and neglect to make it in the 6th place. She claims it must be a glitch, and compares it to an ACTUAL glitch that happened to me recently. Except that glitch was “this thing is supposed to automatically save and it didn’t,” which is a very simple, probable glitch, vs “this thing should’ve only updated in the 1 place you changed it but somehow it also mysteriously got updated in 4 other places but not the final place,” which seems...y’know. Improbable.

Incident 2.5

I asked supervisee to try to locate the registration confirmation from the “live” training she supposedly took. She prevously claimed it had the same name as the recorded training I actually wanted her to take, so unless she deleted the email, it should be very easy to located. You just search the name of the training in Outlook. My own confirmation popped up right away from doing that. She’s now claiming that no matter what she searches, she can’t find basically almost any emails even tangentially related to this, including one she sent me a screenshot of yesterday? Like, in isolation, somewhat believable. With the rest? Eh.

ETA: She says nothing in her trash has been deleted since she started. She ran a search for emails from the email that this confirmation would have come from. The only ones that came up - she sent me a screenshot - are welcome emails and a confirmation for a different training I'd sent her from that platform. Just ~mysteriously~ she totally took the other 2, but the emails aren't anywhere in her inbox or her trash, even though her trash hasn't been emptied!

Please can you just admit you did not take the courses. This is ridiculous.

Think I’m gonna end up having to fire my supervisee at this point. 🙃 I have a bunch of things I need to do for official HR purposes before that’s a possibility, but I’m pretty sure she’s straight-up lying to me about multiple things rather than just owning certain not-that-major mistakes, cuz her stories are not adding up.

[ijustliketoreadstuff]

Adrien’s popularity crisis

     Throughout season 5, we see that Adrien’s avatar had left him just as conflicted about his modeling career and just as frustrated over his popularity among the Parisians as when he was still working as a model himself. Although people like Alya and Marinette’s parents know now that Adrien had decided to quit modeling, other people, specifically his fans, may not be aware that he hated being a model, let alone why he hated it . 

     Adrien took Marinette's advise to take a chance and tell Gabriel exactly how he feels in order to break free of his modeling career, and although he is no longer a model, he is now struggling in trying to be rid of his avatar as he feels uncomfortable knowing his image is still everywhere carrying out his old work and is now even easily accessible for people to use to make him say and do whatever they want through the alliance rings.

      Adrien’s solution to all of this is of course a simple one, Adrien must be willing to be more open about his frustrations and not feel afraid to speak his mind on the matter to others more often, however, this is something Adrien is not able to do so easily. When he is Cat Noir, Adrien’s civilian limitations are gone, as a result, he has no problem expressing his feelings as he feels more free to do and say whatever he wants, but when he is just Adrien, its different. Adrien is known for being a kind and generous person who always tries to love everyone who loves him back, he often tries to do whatever he can to please everyone but because of this, he is more hesitant to speak his mind about his frustrations towards others and put his foot down regardless of what others may think.

      Back in “Risk”, Adrien was able to speak out about his feelings more clearly as a result of Risks power, but now that Risk is gone, Adrien has once again become timid about speaking out, especially in regards to the swarming friends and fans who are constantly expressing their love and admiration for him. As much as Adrien may want to tell all his fans of the boundaries he wants set, he cant, not only because he always tries to love everyone who love him back, but because he likely believes they will not easily understand him just like how he believed everyone would not easily understand his dilemma about not wanting to go on the modeling tour back in “Risk”, everyone except Marinette of course.

     If Adrien has any chance to deal with his avatar and limit the overly excited fans, then he may need to talk to the one person he does know in the fan crowd, Wayhem.  Back in “Gorizilla”, Wayhem had originally promised Adrien to limit his overly excited fan behavior,  however, the release of the alliance rings appears to have caused him to revert to his old habit.

(Adrien giving Wayhem his email back in “Gorizilla”)

     Wayhem is ordinarily the one in the fan crowd who is either quick to be wherever all the other fans find Adrien from a picture, with his location already specified, on social media, which is what Lila did back in “Illusion”, or lead the fans himself as he is able to locate and find someone like Adrien from minimal details, such as a single photo with minimal details in the background of the bakery Adrien was in, which is what happened in ”Elation/ Exaltation”.

      Wayhem is Adrien number one fan, but we don’t really know if he is the head of Adrien’s fan club.  We know Adrien and Wayhem became friends back in “Gorizilla”, but as of now, we have no real confirmation if anyone else in the fan club is aware of Wayhem’s connection to Adrien. Regardless, if Wayhem decides to take Adrien’s side and help him deal with the problem surrounding his avatar, then it will not be an easy feat to not only get the word out that Adrien disliked being a model, but convince everyone that they need to stop fawning over him and instead dedicate themselves to renouncing their alliance rings in order to benefit Adrien’s hopes of finally being freed from the burdens of his modeling career.

       Adrien’s avatar and fans needs to be dealt with, and if Wayhem has as much of a connection to the fans as hinted, then Wayhem might be able to help Adrien do the one thing he was unable to do alone, which is gather support to stop his father from using his image as an avatar to the alliance rings. Marinette would of course be in support of such a movement, but it will not be easy to go against Gabriel who is at the center of it, if they don’t have enough support from the public.

[kyuuppi]

help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (3)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; thigh highs; semi-clothed sex; unprotected sex; oral sex (f receiving); fingering; cum eating; creampie; virginity kink; established relationship; forgotten homework ):

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

“Fuck, it’s cold!” 

You curse under your breath as you rub your legs together underneath the blanket, desperate for any semblance of warmth in your freezing apartment. With the arrival of winter, Tokyo has steadily gotten colder and colder each day. Despite wearing your thickest pair of fleece pajamas and cocooning yourself in a bundle of thick blankets on the couch, you feel gooseflesh lining your trembling legs. Each time you accidentally brush your feet against your shins underneath the blankets you recoil from the frostiness of your own toes. 

At your limit, you snatch your cell phone off the coffee table to open the Amazon app, intending to buy a pair of thermal tights to be express shipped. 

Instead, your eyes land on a conveniently placed advertisement on the home page. 

Extra Warm Fuzzy Thigh High Stockings 3 Pack for Women

Immediately enticed by the words “extra warm” you click on the image. The page loads to reveal a variety of colors to choose from along with some product information about the material and a satisfaction guarantee. You scroll down to read a few reviews, almost all citing positive experiences and expressing surprise to find how “cozy and warm” the stockings are despite their low price.

Thoroughly persuaded, you quickly select a set of versatile colors before using the one-click “Buy Now” feature. 

Just as you receive the notification of an order confirmation email, you hear the front door of the apartment open before your boyfriend tiredly shuffles inside. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Kenma murmurs, struggling to shrug off his thick puffer coat. “Yoshida-san wanted to talk again…”

You laugh at that, recalling just how talkative the elderly lady from two doors down tends to be. Once the woman finds someone willing to listen to her rambling, she can go on for hours about topics ranging from romantic conquests of her youth to what types of seasonal fruit her grandchildren like. You can very clearly picture your awkward boyfriend, feeling too guilty to interrupt as Yoshida-san complains about the local markets increasing the price of eggs for thirty minutes. 

“You need to be more selfish, KenKen,” you chastise playfully as you hop up off the couch to help him remove the complicated layers of winter outerwear. 

“Tell people what you want to and don’t want to do. Yoshida-san would understand; you’re a full-time student and eboy , you’re busy.”

Kenma shoots you a disgusted look at your favorite way to refer to his streaming career to which you only cackle. With a few calculated tugs, you manage to remove his coat and hang it on the rack beside the door.

“Anyway, I’ll go ahead and call for dinner—I was thinking we could get sukiyaki and watch a movie for tonight,” you suggest, already making a beeline for your phone.

“Okay.”

The rest of the night is spent comfortably, cuddled up on the couch while you both eat warm soup and watch a fantasy movie Kenma picked out. You hardly have any interest in the contents on the screen but you relish in the warmth provided by both the food and your boyfriend. 

You all but forget about your Amazon order until two days later when Kenma comes home with a plastic package in his hands.

“It says it's for you,” Kenma says simply, handing the package over to where you sit on the couch. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before the realization hits and you tear the plastic to pieces in your excitement to open it. Kenma lingers to the side, seeming curious about what could garner such a reaction from you.

With your university student budget, it is rare that you buy anything outside of necessities and an unhealthy amount of take-out, so you are unperturbed by Kenma’s apparent curiosity. 

You grin as you pull the neatly folded pile of multi-colored soft material from the package, holding them in the air for him to see.

“It's my new thigh highs! I was tired of feeling like I was in danger of getting frostbite in our own apartment.”

You drop all but a pair of striped pink socks on the couch and quickly shift to try them on, oblivious to how Kenma’s curious gaze has morphed into something akin to mild horror. The material glides easily up your bare legs, stopping just below mid-thigh. 

“ Ooh— they’re so soft,” you cheer, standing up to test their slipperiness on the wooden floors. Kenma swallows thickly, eyes lingering on where your plush thighs slightly spill over the tops of the stockings. 

He nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you lift your right leg in his direction, toes unintentionally mere centimeters from his crotch. 

“Feel them, they’re super fuzzy!” 

Kenma shies from the innocent brightness in your eyes and shuffles backward, nearly running into the wall in his haste to leave.

“I actually have to film something right now—sorry.”

With the firm shut of his office door, you find yourself standing alone, leg still raised dumbly before your balance falters and you quickly set it down. You can only blink for a few seconds, thoroughly thrown off by the rapid series of events you just experienced. Eventually, you just shrug, writing the exchange off as Kenma being his weird, gamer-boy self, and set to work on your own homework. 

You don’t suspect anything until the next day. 

As usual, you wake up before your boyfriend. You spend a few extra minutes in bed, enjoying the comfortable warmth and silently cooing over Kenma’s cute sleeping face while he’s curled up to your side. Eventually, though, the desire for breakfast wins out and you quietly slip out of bed.

The cold floor nips at your feet as you tip-toe out of the room. You make a detour to the living room where you left the package overnight, pink and white striped socks strewn haphazardly over the back of the couch where you removed them before bed. Deciding to switch it up, you pick a pair of solid black thigh highs and slip them on before hopping to the kitchen, legs sufficiently warm beneath your oversized sleep shirt.

You lose yourself to the familiar motions of making breakfast, cracking eggs, and mixing batter while your hips sway to a rhythm you make up in your head. Halfway through flying your second egg, you hear the bedroom door behind you open, signaling Kenma’s emergence. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song, well aware Kenma is far from a morning person.

“Do you want your pancakes plain or chocolate chip? We’re out of blueberries.” 

You bend down to retrieve clean plates from the bottom of the dishwasher, rummaging for a few moments before finding two decently sized ones. You return to your full height and plate the eggs before realizing the pancake batter is still sitting in its bowl, waiting, and Kenma has still not responded to your question. You twist your torso around to look over your shoulder, briefly considering maybe he hadn’t heard you properly. 

Surprisingly, Kenma is still awkwardly standing right in front of the bedroom door, seeming to not have moved a muscle since opening it. However, his gaze seems locked on something, eyes wide and pupils dilated not unlike a cat staring at a laser. 

You follow his line of sight only to land on your own thighs, clad in the pair of black thigh-highs. The gears shift and it clicks all at once.

A grin sinister enough to rival the Grinch spreads across your face. 

“Enjoying the view, KenKen~?” You taunt, coyly pointing your toe so the muscles of your calves and thighs flex under the material. 

Kenma finally tears his eyes from your legs to meet your eyes, seeming conflicted between annoyance and embarrassment. With red ears, Kenma turns on his heels and walks unusually quickly towards the bathroom, mumbling something about taking a shower. 

“Wait—you never told me what type of pancakes you want!”

The only answer you receive is the slam of a door. 

For the rest of the morning, you take full advantage of Kenma’s newfound interest in your thigh-high stockings. You brush against him at any opportunity: claiming you need something from the cabinet right behind him when he’s in the kitchen, conveniently dropping pens and pencils right in front of him when he sits on the couch so that you have to bend over to pick them up.

With each action, Kenma gets more and more flustered and vocal with his complaints, well aware of what exactly you are doing. Regardless of his harsh words, the pink on his cheeks is too cute to resist so you keep doing it until you’re forced to leave for class. 

By the time you come back from campus, the sun is long gone and the apartment is silent save for Kenma’s mumbled voice in the back room where he speaks to the viewers of his stream. 

Kicking off the jeans you had hastily slid on over your black stockings and settling into bed you have only one thing on your mind: the essay your professor had so graciously surprised your class with. He claimed the topic was “easy” and therefore could be finished and submitted “before midnight.” 

“Easy my ass,” you mutter bitterly, pulling open your prehistoric laptop. 

The hours melt away with the inconsistent click-clacking on your keyboard as you set to researching and writing your assignment. While actually spitting out a 500-word essay had been easier than expected, many of your arguments felt weak and you found conflicting information in a few of your sources, forcing you to spend extra time editing your work.

You are so lost in your reading that you hardly notice the uncharacteristic silence from the other room until the bedroom door opens. You spare Kenma a momentary glance and mumbled greeting before your eyes are immediately back on the lengthy Wikipedia page. The small text blurs together under your tired eyes and the overheating laptop on your thighs is bordering on unbearable.

Unbeknownst to you, Kenma stands idly at the door for several minutes while you read, eyes roving over your disheveled, stressed form before landing on your thighs where you rest your laptop. Somehow, it is when you are least put together that you look the most alluring. Wordlessly, he moves forward. 

You startle when you feel the mattress shift beneath you, looking up at Kenma in mild alarm as he crawls into bed with a strange expression on his face. You try to focus on your work again, half-heartedly announcing that you’re busy. 

But Kenma doesn’t listen. 

A soft pair of lips connect with your cheek, sending shivers down your body at the unexpected sensation. Your cheeks flush, unused to Kenma initiating physical contact so directly. As much as you would love to take full advantage of this moment, your word essay stares back at you threateningly.

“Kenma—I can’t, I have an essay—”

Your complaint falls on deaf ears as he continues leaving soft pecks along your cheeks, becoming less innocent and more frenzied as he moves lower. One of his hands finds purchase on your breast, gently fondling the clothed flesh.

Your pulse flutters as his lips press under your ear, hot tongue swiping at your skin. He moves feverishly as he kisses down the column of your neck, only pausing when he reaches the collar of your sweater. 

“You look so pretty right now,” he whispers airily, voice lower than usual. 

You want to disagree. You’re unshowered and bare-faced after a full day of classes with your hair thrown in a messy style—no part of that is conventionally “pretty.” 

But the way Kenma is looking at you, pupils dilated, and a soft flush on his face as if mesmerized has you unable to utter a word of dissent.

All previous inhibitions are forgotten as you set your laptop to the side, not even bothering to save your draft.

His grip on your chest falls away and you take the hint, grasping the hem of your sweater and pulling it over your head. Having left in a rush not to be late earlier, you had forgone a bra—but Kenma hardly minds.

His gaze immediately zones into your exposed breasts. Briefly, his eyes flicker up to meet your own as if silently asking permission, to which you nod, before he returns his attention to your chest, brushing his pale hands up your waist to finally cup your breasts without a barrier. 

He marvels at their softness for a few minutes, alternating between gently cupping and firmly pressing into the supple flesh. Some distant part of his mind suggests the feeling is similar to mochi but he thinks better of sharing the childish thought aloud. Instead, he puts his mouth to better use. 

You sharply inhale when Kenma ducks down without warning, hot tongue swiping over your right nipple while he flicks the other with his thumb like it's a joystick. He envelops the bud in his wet mouth, lightly sucking while his fingers begin pinching.

The sensations shoot down your spine straight to your core and your squirm at his ministrations, gently fisting his silky hair when he switches sides.

Eventually, he releases your nipples with an audible pop to press kisses on the underside of your breast instead. His lips brush against your flesh and he slowly makes his way down, pausing to edge his wet tongue around your belly button in an unexpectedly naughty way that makes you squirm.

His hands abandon your chest in favor of your hips where his fingers slip under the sides of your cotton panties.

He glances up, lips just barely ghosting your skin as he murmurs, “can I take them off?” 

Your throat feels much too dry to produce any comprehensible sound so you simply nod. He wastes no time rolling the thin material down your thighs as you assist in eagerly kicking them off. You make a move to remove your last remaining clothing, your soft black thigh-high stockings, but Kenma quickly grabs your hands to stop you.

Confused, you look up to meet his eyes only to find his cheeks dusted pink as he avoids your gaze. 

“I…want you to keep them on.”

You can’t contain the giggles that bubble up at his admission, only increasing when he visibly pouts. Your amusement dies down as Kenma’s hands move to your shoulders, gently pushing. Obediently, you let your back fall onto the soft bed while Kenma settles directly between your spread thighs, hands supporting his weight on either side of your waist. 

You watch as he looks over you, golden eyes flitting across your body almost methodically as if he is assessing a challenging puzzle in a game. The comparison makes your body feel warm and you resist the urge to squirm under his stare. 

It is far from your first time—you shouldn’t be the nervous one here , you scold. 

At last, Kenma nods to himself, as if silently making a final decision before he lowers himself again. A pair of soft lips brush against the hood of your clit in a peck that has your muscles tensing and a mewl getting caught in your throat. Kenma presses a few more light, soft kisses around your vulva before he uses the thumbs of both hands to properly spread your lips open.

You’re almost embarrassed by how much wetness you can feel beginning to leak out but all thoughts are rendered obsolete the moment Kenma pushes his tongue into you, earnestly and without hesitation. His increase in confidence since the night he had “returned the favor” is clear in his every movement.

His tongue twists in ways he remembers you had particularly liked with the occasional new experimentation as well, alternating between firmly massaging your walls with the tip and thrusting in and out in a mimicry of what he intends to do with his cock later. 

Just the thought of his dick experiencing the heat currently engulfing his tongue has him groaning into you, making your own voice keen at the vibrations. 

He releases his tongue from inside of you to wrap his lips around your clit instead, sucking while the middle finger of his right hand pushes into you. The insertion has you nearly breathless as he manages to reach a place deep inside of you—much deeper than your own fingers could. As a former volleyball player and current gamer, it is no surprise that Kenma has long, dexterous fingers but to feel them in action leaves your heart pounding in your chest as you greedily rock your hips against him. 

He eventually adds his ring finger, the resistance minimal with how wet you have become. His other hand moves to grip your meaty thigh, fingertips just barely slipping beneath the fabric of your stockings. 

You can quickly feel your release building. Kenma seems set on having you cum on his fingers as quickly as possible as well, flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue while he pushes in a third finger, never once faltering in his pace. It is when he unexpectedly curls his fingers inside of you, hooking into a squishy spot that your vision blurs, and every muscle in your body tenses with your orgasm. 

Kenma diligently helps you ride it out, continuing to finger you and suckle at your clit until your legs draw up, attempting to push him off. Kindly, he pulls away.

You take a moment to collect yourself but it seems all for naught when you catch the way Kenma brings his sticky fingers, utterly drenched in your release, to his own mouth and licks them clean without a second thought. Despite the fact he had just eaten you out, something about watching him suck your essence off his own fingers feels decidedly filthy and leaves you more turned on than you were before your orgasm.

Kenma removes his fingers from his mouth once he deems them “clean” though they now shine with the remnants of his own saliva. He moves his hands to rest on your raised knees and carefully searches your face for any negative response. 

“Do you want to keep going?”

He asks softly but purposefully, fully prepared to stop if you suddenly aren’t up for it anymore. The consideration makes your chest swell and you grin. 

“Yeah,” you answer, sitting up slightly only to hook your fingers in the waistline of his track pants, “take these off.”

His cheeks flame but he obediently hooks his own thumbs into the pants and slides them down, carelessly kicking them off to some corner of the room.

Unsurprisingly, Kenma didn’t bother wearing underwear but you hardly mind and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his pretty dick, bobbling slightly with his movements and dripping a copious amount of pre-cum, just like on that first night you sucked him off. 

He settles between your hips and you lay back on the pillows to form a textbook-perfect missionary position. One of his hands slides up your leg before finding a good place under your thigh to grab and hold your leg open while his other grabs his cock to position himself.

The first brush of his head against your sticky folds sends a shiver through both of you and his grip on you tightens almost painfully. 

“Can I...put it inside?”

“Yes, Kenma, please,” you respond breathlessly. 

You’re far too impatient to bother being embarrassed by your apparently eagerness though Kenma flusters at your plea. He lines himself up carefully before finally pressing forward. 

You gasp at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he slowly forces his way inside. You can hardly remember the last time you had someone inside of you—it must have been a while before you had even met Kenma.

Just as you had suspected that night you first saw him, his girth feels thicker than average and the stretch has your toes curling. He keeps pressing until he bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and he has to physically pause to catch his breath as he adjusts to the brand-new sensation of being inside of someone.

His brain feels foggy and slow, like your pussy holds the power to make him go dumb. His length feels like it’s burning in your hot insides, soaked and massaged by your pulsating walls. 

He is positive this is one of the greatest experiences of his life.

It only gets better when you impatiently rock your hips against him, creating friction he didn’t realize he so desperately craved. You mewl needily, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and forcing him to press against you, sweaty chests smushed together.

Kenma steels himself, adjusting on hand to grip at your hip while the other supports his weight on the bed, trying not to lay his full weight on you. Torturously slowly, he pulls his hips back until his length nearly slips out only to sink back into the hilt. 

Your walls suck him harshly, threatening not to let him leave every time he partially withdraws and he’s pretty sure it's causing him to make some extremely embarrassing sounds he’ll regret later.

In contrast, you revel in the soft ‘ah’ s and sharp gasps he releases against your neck every time he thrusts inside of you. You experimentally clench around him just to hear the whine he makes in response, his hips involuntarily stuttering. 

“Ngh... feels good,” he whines into your ear. 

You moan your agreement, pressing soft kisses into his sweaty neck in encouragement. His speed steadily increases, your wetness producing a distinct squelch with each thrust. It is quickly devolving into something messy and imperfect but filled with love nonetheless. Every nerve in your body feels as if inflamed, burning you until you are no longer yourself but something new—something that is both you and Kenma. 

It is as your second orgasm is rapidly approaching and your limbs are seizing up, forcing Kenma to reach even deeper inside of you that you realize why it feels so different from the other times, why you felt so nervous before.

It’s the first time you’ve been fucked by someone you truly love. 

With a stammer of Kenma’s name, you cum. 

Your spasming walls prove too much for him and he follows quickly, thrusts losing all semblance of rhythm as he releases inside of you. You feel him deep inside, the head of his twitching cock near the entrance of your womb when he cums, filling you with warmth. Idly, you realize there’s a lot of it—likely the result of Kenma’s first time cumming inside of someone. It fills you to a brim, some of it escaping and sliding down his own spent length until it drips onto the sheets in a sticky mess. 

All strength seems to leave his body and Kenma fully collapses on top of you, head buried into your neck and chests sticking together like glue. The room is silent for several minutes aside from panting as the two of you catch your breaths. 

Kenma is surprisingly the first to speak. 

His voice sounds nervous, slightly hesitant and he refuses to make eye contact as he asks, “Was that okay?”

Every inch of his appearance screams insecure and the sight tugs at your heartstrings. You know he is worried he won’t compare to your previous boyfriends, feeling inadequate due to his own lack of experience. You quickly work to amend that. 

“It was great,” you answer honestly, offering a bright smile. 

“You’re amazing, Kenma.” 

The redness of his cheeks is almost comical but a wide smile stretches across his lips and when he meets your gaze his eyes seem to be nearly sparkling in happiness.

Your heart stutters in your chest. 

“I love you,” he whispers, voice full of adoration.

“I love you too,” you respond, curling into his side.

You nearly purr when his arms immediately snake around your waist, rolling you both onto your sides as he slips from your warmth. You’re overcome with a sense of calm, everything suddenly feeling right in the world if only for this single moment. You have never experienced this with any of your past partners; yet another piece of evidence to validate what you already know: Kenma is it for you. He’s the one. 

A thought comes to mind that has your features twisting into a sinister smirk. 

“Hey, KenKen...you really like my thigh highs, right?”

He stiffens beside you, instinctively knowing he’s in danger. 

“...I guess so,” he cautions, flinching when you coyly brush a clothed toe against one of his shins.

“Maybe for Christmas,” you continue, “I should get you a pair.”

[queenshelby]

Roommates – Part Fourteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,580

Warning: Fluff

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

It has been a week since Cillian found out about Laura’s lie and, as expected, it took him some time to come to terms with it. Whilst, on one hand, he was relieved that she wasn’t pregnant after all he had been through with her, he was also somewhat disappointed by it. After all, he had been looking forward to finally becoming a father after him and his ex-wife Lindsay went through IVF for many years unsuccessfully.  

Luckily for him, you knew that he was struggling and you were there to pick up the pieces and support him through this horrible initial week after he had found out.

Unfortunately for you, Laura had also since found out that you were involved with Cillian and ceased the opportunity to seek revenge which, for some reason, she still thought she was entitled to. Her friendship with most of your mutual friends had been destroyed after it was found out what she did. But this wasn’t your fault you thought. It was hers alone.

After sending you at least ten text messages, telling you how you were the most horrible person who had ever walked this earth, she informed James and most of your other friends and Cillian’s family about your relationship with Cillian in order to get them to turn on you instead of her.

As a result, James kept calling, messaging and emailing you constantly and you ran out of options on how to block him after he obtained several new phone numbers and email addresses so that he could harass you, thinking that you had been involved with Cillian for years.

As for your family and friends, you found it difficult to explain to them that there was only some truth to what Laura was saying. You tried hard to make clear to them that you were not in a relationship with Cillian and it was Cillian’s mother herself who didn’t take your and her son’s explanations serious.

‘I think my mother is set on the idea that we are together’ Cillian chuckled as he handed you the invitation to her 70th birthday which specifically mentioned you as his plus one.

‘She told me about it already. She also enquires about your wellbeing on a daily basis, darling. Apparently, you aren’t very forthcoming to her about your feelings. Luckily, her birthday not until after Christmas’ you laughed.

You had always gotten along well with Cillian’s mother since you met her almost ten years ago.

‘I am not sure if I should be more amused by the fact that my mother talks to you more often than to me or that she thinks that we will be out of lockdown by January next year’ Cillian then said, smiling before offering you a cup of tea.

‘Well, you know your mum and I get on like a house on fire, sweetheart’ you then joked before approaching Cillian and kissing him gently.

You didn’t usually kiss. Kissing was only to initiate sex which you have had plenty off over the past week even while Cillian was feeling rather depressed about what happened.

You knew that sex would get his mind of the pain Laura had caused him and you were more than willing to distract him from all the madness in his life.

In turn, sex led to you sharing a bed and, since you had sex every night and sometimes even during the day, you pretty much slept in the same room continuously for weeks on end. Sometimes you would stay in Cillian’s room while, on other nights, he would come to yours. It was almost like musical chairs.

But tonight, this was all about to change as, in the morning, you had just gotten your first period since you started being intimate with each other.

As such, you quickly apologised for the kiss you had just given him to ensure that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about your intentions.

‘Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to initiate anything. I was just sneaking in a cheeky little kiss’ you said somewhat embarrassed as you quickly pulled away from the kiss.

‘No period sex then I suppose?’ Cillian joked, knowing very well that this was off the table for you even though he had explained to you that it wouldn’t bother him.

‘Absolutely not Cillian’ you giggled before reaching for some more of the pain killers on the kitchen counter.

‘Well, if you change your mind tonight, you know where my bedroom is’ Cillian winked and you couldn’t help but shake your head in disgust.

‘Trust me Cilly, I won’t’ you chuckled.

‘Alright then. No sex tonight. Got it’ Cillian chuckled before offering you to fill up your hot water bottle. ‘How about I fill this up for you, we have some wine, order some pizza and watch a movie?’ Cillian suggested as he took the hot water bottle from you.

‘That would be nice’ you said, smiling and wanting to kiss him again, but refraining from doing so for obvious reasons. You reminded yourself that you weren’t more than friends with benefits, regardless of the rumours out there which Laura had spread.

***

Half an hour later, you finally settled in the living room with your hot water bottle and two glasses of red wine.

Being so close to Cillian and unable to be intimate with him bothered you and you could see that it bothered him too as he tried hard to keep his hands to himself.

Occasionally, you felt his hand brush over the top of your cotton pants and then move away quickly as if he was a shy little school boy who was doing something naughty and who thought you wouldn’t notice.

It was strange, the fact that you both only ever showed affection towards each other while, before or after you were having sex. But then again, of course, it was normal considering your arrangement. You were friends and, if kissing wouldn’t turn you both on so incredibly much, you probably wouldn’t even be doing that in the bedroom.

But even just in that moment, where he was sitting next to you and was watching a movie with you, you wanted to kiss him desperately and a kiss was all you wanted.

You felt the urge to snuggle up against him and rest your head against his chest but you thought that this also would be inappropriate you restrained yourself from it for the remainder of the evening.

***

At around 10 o’clock, you finally called it a night. You were tired and exhausted and needed a good nights’ sleep.

Unfortunately for you, sleep was something you struggled with and it was when you lay in your bed for an hour, tossing and turning with your eyes wide open, that you realised what was missing.

It was the warmth which would normally radiate from Cillian’s body when you cuddled up against him and it was the scent of his skin you breathed in when laying in his arms.

Even if you couldn’t be intimate with him, you wanted to be near him, kiss him and cuddle him and feeling this way about him wasn’t something you were prepared for.

***

Little did you know that you weren’t the only one craving this kind of closeness and non-sexual intimacy. Cillian also was laying on his bed, restless and unable to sleep, realising that something was missing.

He adored the smell of your hair and the softness of your skin pressed against his. He loved spooning against you while you held his arms tight as he wrapped them around you.

He also loved the little sounds you were making in your dreams when there was clearly something pleasurable on your mind.

He soon realised that his efforts to simply fall asleep like this on his own were going to be futile and he decided to get himself another glass of water from the kitchen and settle with a book until he would be tired enough to go back to bed and try again.

***

‘Still up?’ Cillian asked as he walked into the kitchen and saw you filling up your hot water bottle again.

‘I can’t sleep’ you pouted while moving aside and allowing Cillian to fill up his glass.

‘Me neither’ Cillian then said before making a suggestion which could possibly change that.

‘Do you…uhm…want company…in bed?’ Cillian then shuddered somewhat reluctantly.

‘Cillian, I am not going to have sex with you, I told you that’ you said somewhat amused by the fact that he was still trying to convince you otherwise.

‘I didn’t mean for us to have sex Y/N’ Cillian then explained and your eyes widened immediately.

‘So, you mean just us sharing a bed to sleep?’ you asked confused, causing Cillian to nod.

‘Just to sleep and maybe kiss…if you want to’ Cillian said almost shyly.

‘Just kissing?’ you asked again, unsure about his motives.

‘Just kissing’ Cillian confirmed.

 Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian​

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[jungblue]

aphrodite in war | 01

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, eventual smut / greek life, fake dating, roommates, lovers to enemies and back to lovers au

word count: 11,022

description: Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle... Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

note: here is an audio post of a beautiful song with lyrics inspired by AiW, which was written by one of my lovely readers!

→ part 02

Hostility bleeds deep. The rivers of resentment collide violently as they carve a divide so saturated in disdain between the parties involved that you don’t even need to be told that there is something more to the story. It doesn’t need to be said out loud, but is just instinctively felt.

You didn’t need to be told that the ominous house at the end of street was sketchy and should be avoided at all cost; you just knew it. You didn’t need to be told that there was bad blood between the guy and girl whose jaws suddenly stiffened as their lips transformed into a firm, straight line when they caught sight of each other at a party; you just knew it — And you most certainly didn’t need to be told that there was an absolute war brewing at the end of Greek Drive between the Tri Delts and Lambdas; you just fucking knew it.

In the beginning, their rivalry was small. It was simple antics such as egging each other’s houses or fucking around with the letters that they so proudly displayed on their lawns. But then it turned a bit more intense. Egging the houses turned into spray-painting them and fucking with the letters on their lawns turned into completely trashing each other’s lawns. It was because of this that the once harmless pranks turned infamous. Everything that happened between their houses had constantly been circulated around campus for the past two years, or at the very least among their Greek counterparts… Which was probably how the two newly inducted presidents of Delta Delta Delta and Lambda Phi Epsilon, on the very first week of their final year in college, found themselves sitting in the office of a much higher power than their own titles — The president of their university; a single word spilling past his lips that had their stomachs twisting.

“Suspension!?” They both yelled in disbelief.

It was a word no organization wanted to hear. It branded your chapters with a shame that would be painted across the local news stations and even across the country. The lines would blur, only to lump them in with those terrible hazing stories that constantly flooded the media.

“P-president Kwon,” Jungkook finally stuttered out after a moment of coming to terms with the seriousness of the situation they were being faced with. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise the very... minor pranks that go on between our houses are probably much less problematic than what you’re thinking.”

“Mr. Jeon, do you think that we would threaten something of such dramatic action without several instances of confirmed proof?” President Kwon asked in a clipped tone as he leaned forward in his chair.

You could see the way that Jungkook blanched next to you, clearly not expecting this harsh treatment from President Kwon. Lambda Phi Epsilon happened to be President Kwon’s former fraternity, so it was well known that there was a good relationship there. However, in this moment you could make out nothing except for a glaring, red warning shining off the president’s ice-cold eyes.  

“I — no, sir,” Jungkook whispered, dropping his head slightly to hide the sudden flush of red that was rushing to his face.

“It is more embarrassing than I can possibly describe to the two of you, receiving dozens upon dozens of phone calls and emails over the incidents involving your organizations. Garbage littering every inch of your front yards, obscene images drawn onto your houses, several instances of animal control having to be called due to rodents being set free in the house as a… as a prank? All of this is happening while visits from prospective students and their parents are being conducted. Donors who help this school are wandering the campus and seeing it. Tell me, did the incidents I just mentioned not actually transpire, Mr. Jeon? Ms. Y/L/N?”

The air was so stiff that you barely managed a shaky inhale in order to respond to the juvenile antics being laid out before you. “No, th-they did transpire, sir. And I don’t know what to say besides that I’m so, so sorry that we’ve embarrassed the university this way.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, President Kwon’s relentless glare of disappointment cutting you through and through.

“Yes, so completely sorry,” Jungkook added.

Nothing was said for a few moments after that. It seemed President Kwon wanted to make the two of you squirm for everything that you had done, and it was definitely working. Every movement made you feel self-conscious, the judgement permeating the office air felt as if it were sticking to your skin.

“I know that what we’ve done is completely unacceptable, President Kwon,” You began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “But I promise if you give us just one more chance, we’ll clean up our acts. No more pranks, just cordial neighbors. As the new presidents of our chapters this year, we’ll make sure the members understand that this behavior isn’t something that will be tolerated anymore.”

Jungkook was nodding his head next to you in agreeance. But once again the room was plunged into silence. It was honestly torture, sitting there under such scrutiny as someone held something so dear to you in the palm of their hand. It would break your heart if the suspension actually went through… Considering it was yours and Jungkook’s fault that tensions had gotten to where they were in the first place. The bad blood between the two of you had seeped into the minds of your members as well, which was ultimately how it got so ugly. But it had gotten especially bad this year now that you were the respective presidents of each of your houses and had allowed things to escalate further. Harsh feelings between two people couldn’t do much damage, but when it was dozens versus dozens, well that was when things got messy.

Eventually though you found yourself being pulled back to reality. President Kwon cleared his throat, the sound making your heart stutter in your chest as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“You’re exactly right. It won’t be tolerated any longer.” He paused for a moment, probably for the added effect of letting anxiety seize its way around your lungs. “Probation for the next three months. One more incident and it’s over. Do you understand?”

At that there was a simultaneous sigh of relief from you and Jungkook as the looming consequence faded… At least for now.

“Thank you so much, President Kwon.” Jungkook stood from his chair, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “I promise we won’t mess this up.”

You lifted yourself up from your chair as well, following his lead. “Yes, we promise.”

“I hope that’s true,” Is all President Kwon responded with as he led the two of you towards the door of his office. “Take care.”

With rather mumbled and rushed goodbyes you exited his office, the two of you shuffling quickly down the hallway until you were sure you were out of earshot. Both of you stopped as you turned the corner, insults already resting on the tips of your tongues.

“This is all your fucking fault!” You yelled in a hushed whisper.

“My fault!?” He whispered back, equally as intense. “You’re the one who started this shit, Y/N. No one would even be fighting if you hadn’t opened your mouth to your friends.”

“I was just venting to them! I had no idea that they would go and actually do something about it. And it was a harmless prank. They planted fucking flowers in front of your house for god’s sake, and your loser friends retaliated by digging holes in our yard. You guys are the ones who escalated it, and now it’s this out of control thing that’s going to get our chapters suspended!” Your chest was rising and falling, anger boiling inside of your blood. You had never even partaken in any of the antics that had gone on between the two houses nor had you baited any of your members into participating.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, tongue pressing at the inside of his cheek. “You know what? It’s whatever. We’ve been arguing about this for two years now, so I’m not expecting you to be reasonable any time soon.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the painful reminder of how long this had been going on searing a deep cut across your chest. But it was like Jungkook had said, this had been going on for a long time and there was no point in arguing about who was right, because it wasn’t as if it actually mattered. So instead, you just didn’t respond. You stared at him for a moment, sneer fading into this sad downward turn of your lips. And surprisingly you watched the way his expression softened as well. His brows were furrowing a little less, his jaw not as hard and brooding.

You gave him a tiny nod before you turned away and headed towards the exit. It was a few seconds before you heard his footsteps start to follow you. Every time his sneakers would squeak against the linoleum floor behind you, it felt like this tiny pressure was beginning to build at the base of your throat. You weren’t sure why you still got these feelings of… longing, even after all of this passed time. It was pathetic. Jungkook apparently didn’t long for anything from back then, so why did you?

Eventually you were able to breathe a little clearer once you pushed your way through the exit and away from the tight and tense space of faculty meetings and suspension threats. The fresh air filled your rattled lungs — too bad it was murky and humid beneath the gray storm clouds that were currently drowning the campus in a depressing drizzle.

“Goddammit,” You muttered beneath your breath.

You didn’t drive here since this building had been so close to your last class of the day. The Tri Delt house was about a ten minute walk from here, so it looked like you needed to get going before the light sprinkle of rain turned into a thunderstorm. You were about to step out from underneath the overhead of the roof and down the steps when you felt a light tug of someone pulling at the back of the belt loop on your jeans. 

“Do you need a ride?” Jungkook asked before you had even turned around to fully face him. His expression was neutral. It didn’t seem annoyed or concerned, but he had always been good at hiding his emotions like that.  

Of course you didn’t want to walk home in the rain, but sitting in a confined space with Jungkook after you’d both just gotten done yelling at one another didn’t seem like the greatest time either. But in the end, you decided that a few minutes wouldn’t kill you. “Yeah, I guess,” You whispered, motioning for him to go ahead so you could follow. His car was parked in one of the first spots at the bottom of the steps. You were both silent as you opened the doors and climbed inside.

It was weird. You hadn’t been in Jungkook’s car in years. You watched him pull out of the parking space, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the center console. It felt all too familiar. You blew a heady sigh past your lips, hands wringing in your lap. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, the tension between you and him never seemed to lessen. It was a constant, palpable stiffness in the air.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get them to stop fighting?” Jungkook finally asked once they turned onto Greek Drive, giving some mild relief to the strain that the two of you were so highly aware of.

“If suspension doesn’t do it, then I honestly don’t know what would.”

He nodded, seeming to agree. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll cut it out.”

“Yeah, they can’t be that dumb—” However, your words seemed to disintegrate along your tongue as the car approached the Lambda and Tri Delt houses that stood side by side.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered, pulling into the driveway which currently had a Lambda named Jimin running down it towards his truck that was completely covered in saran-wrap and a laughing Tri Delt named Joy who was holding said saran-wrap.

“Get back here and take this shit off my truck right now!” You heard Jimin yell.

“Nope, I’m good.” She smiled, shrugging and taunting him as she jogged away.

“This… This might be harder than we thought,” You said.

Jungkook rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes closed. “Yeah, way fucking harder.”

---------

It was several mass group texts later, demanding that every Lambda and Tri Delt come to their houses immediately, that all forty-two members of the combined organizations who actually lived in-house finally arrived… Yeah, there was no way that this could go terribly wrong or anything… Right?

You and Jungkook stood in front of the members as they gathered on the grassy area that separated your two houses. As expected there were dozens of mumbled conversations transpiring, all speculating on what the hell was going on here. You looked to Jungkook, giving him a nod to tell him that they should start.

He cleared his throat, clapping his hands together, resulting in large boom that got everyone’s attention. “All right, listen up. We have something important we need to discuss.”

“Jungkook, why the hell are the Tri Delts here?” A Lambda named Yuta yelled out.

“Because we can be, asshole.” It was Jennie.

“Who’re you calling an asshole?” Taehyung asked, even though he had nothing to do with it.

“Your dickhead friend,” Sana responded, again even though it had nothing to do with her.

And then Chanyeol chimed in, followed by Momo, which then got escalated by Johnny and continued by Dahyun. After that you lost track of who was arguing because it just became a giant clusterfuck of people yelling and this was the perfect example of how this entire war started — people getting involved in the business of others that didn’t even concern them.

You started rubbing at your temples, fingernails digging into your palms. This was enough. “Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, a loud echo that reverberated through the air and hushed everyone into silence. “This is why you’re all here.” You motioned towards them.

“What do you mean?” Someone asked from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Me and Y/N had a meeting with President Kwon today,” Jungkook paused, releasing a deep sigh before continuing. “He said that if we all keep publicly fighting the way we have been… that our chapters will get suspended.” 

There was a small pause, as if it didn’t immediately click with everyone what had been said — and then the panic set in. 

“What?!”

“No fucking way!”

“He can’t be serious!”

“That’s bullshit!” 

“This is just another prank, right?!” 

Having forty-two people publicly shouting expletives, wasn’t the best start to this image reset that President Kwon wanted, but there was no way either of the chapters would have been okay with the other house coming into their own, so this little outdoor set-up was the best option they had. 

You and Jungkook sort of just stood there for a moment, letting the members get their gut-reactions out. Then he turned to you, motioning towards the mob of angry Greek lifers. “You were always better at yelling than me. You wanna quiet them down?” He smirked, a jab that had you clenching your teeth. 

“Great way to start off this so called peace treaty, but sure, I’ll gladly calm them down and get straight to the point. I wouldn’t want to let them drown in their own heads without knowing what’s going on because someone won’t just be upfront.” You stared him straight in the eyes, making sure he got your double meaning since he wanted to play dirty and bring up the past. He simply clenched his jaw and averted his gaze back to the crowd of hysterics laid out before them. 

“Quiet down and we’ll explain.” You yelled as loud as you could, hoping it would reach everyone so that the chatter would die down quickly. Luckily it seemed they were all on the verge of a mental breakdown and needed answers, so the volume was almost instantly brought down to a hush. All eyes were now on you. “To make things simple, President Kwon thinks that our little prank war or whatever the hell you want to call it, has brought too much negative attention to the school. Visiting students and their parents, donors, and apparently a lot of other people have noticed all of the antics that we pull on each other, and they don’t like it.” You paused, gauging the reactions, but everyone was just frozen in place, waiting for more details. “He put both of our houses on three months of probation and said that if we don’t clean up our acts and stop with all of this petty bullshit that he would suspend our chapters. So, really it’s that easy. We just have to let this feud die down...” You paused, not wanting to say what you were going to say next, but you thought that it would be the best way to diffuse the situation. “And I know that it was the venting of my personal feelings that started this entire thing, so I wanted to say… I’m sorry for causing it.” You didn’t look towards Jungkook, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face. You didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see the smugness or whatever the hell he was feeling towards this forced public apology. You were about to continue, but before you could, a high-pitched voice cut in. 

“No, why are you apologizing?” Sana said, stepping past the front lines of the two groups. “It is not your fault.” She shot a glare towards Jungkook who simply rolled his eyes and kept his stare straight ahead. 

Then it was Jennie pushing to the front to join in on your defense. “She’s right, Y/N. It’s not your fault. We’re the ones who planted the flowers as a joke. Even though it was a harmless joke,” She turned towards the Lambda boys, venom coating her words, “that made their trashy house look a little bit nicer. Yet, they had to escalate it into something else.”

Oh, this was not good.

Jimin broke through the front line for the Lambdas, a scowl etched across his face. “It’s not the issue of what you did. It’s the fact that back then you blindly fucked with the house that all of the guys lived in, not only Jungkook, just because of Y/N being upset over their relationship — which, he did nothing wrong since you wanna start glaring at people for no fucking reason Sana.” 

It was this violent concoction of anger and sadness colliding inside of your stomach that had you simultaneously fighting back the urge to bite off Jimin’s head or crying pathetically in front of everyone. 

Multiple people were stepping to the front of their groups now, various arguments splintering off as people began defending the heads of their respective houses. Y/N this, Jungkook that. You stared at the second story of the Tri Delt house, focusing in on the bedroom window all the way to the right (your bedroom), so that your hearing would blur out. You didn’t want to listen to these arguments any more, but you also didn’t have the energy to both somehow defend yourself while also admitting that Jungkook’s feelings from back then were also valid. So you stood there, eyes glazing over at the sight of the room where this entire feud spawned from. Though, maybe that wasn’t exactly correct. According to Jungkook it had started in no particular place and at no particular time that he could actually pinpoint. That was just the place where it had all finally been verbalized. 

You weren’t sure how long you zoned out for, just reminiscing on the conversation from that night, but it was Jungkook’s voice thundering through the air that halted everyone’s arguments once again, along with your torturous thoughts. 

“All of you just fucking stop!” He yelled. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or how it started. If we keep doing this we’re gonna get our chapters suspended. Do you guys want that?” There was an awkward moment of silence where everyone was just sort of looking around at one another before the members finally grumbled a unanimous ‘no.’ “Okay, so then you guys are just gonna have to get over this bullshit, just like how me and Y/N are,” Jungkook paused, one brow arched as he turned to face you. “Right?”

You felt your face heat up as you clamped your teeth down onto the inside of your cheek. “…Right.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiled, seeming very happy with himself for getting that out of you — smug asshole. He turned back to face all of the members, clapping his hands together before saying something that caused the entire group to erupt into hysterics. “Now, apologize to each other.”

“Fuck that!” Someone screeched from the back. “Baek let the air out of my tires last year. I was late for my final.” 

“Because you put a pair of panties in my car and my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her!” 

“You probably were!”

Everyone was screaming and calling out various incidents, saying there was no way in hell they were ever going to apologize. 

“Fine! Fucking fine!” Jungkook cut in immediately before it could devolve again. “How about if me and Y/N just apologize to each other and it’ll count for the rest of you? And then this war is dead. Sound fair?” 

No one said anything concrete in response, just unintelligible grumbles rippling through the crowd. Jungkook apparently took this as an okay, because he was suddenly turning toward you. “Alright, you go first.” 

You scoffed. “I’m not apologizing first. It wasn’t even my idea. Besides I already apologized to everyone earlier.”

“It wasn’t an apology to me though.” 

“I don’t think I owe you an apology.” You shrugged. “I apologized for my friends fucking with your house. What else do I need to apologize for?” 

He just looked at you, with those eyes that were unreadable. Though you could see a slight shift, as though there truly was something that he wanted you to apologize for from back then, but he could tell that you weren’t going to back down, so he went for something that cut deep as punishment. 

He huffed in annoyance. “Fine, if you wanna be like that. I’m sorry that I broke up with you, Y/N.”

Your entire body flared with anger that had a pool of sweat instantly swelling at your hairline. You stepped closer to him, only a foot of space between you, but he didn’t back down and you weren’t going to either. “And I’m sorry I wasted three years of my life with a lying, cheating piece of shit!” 

His eyes went wide. The word that never failed to strike a nerve whenever this argument was brought back under the light. His response was quiet but firm, everyone, all forty-two members watching in silence. “I never cheated on you, but if you want to think that just so I can be the bad guy in your head, fine.” 

His final word felt like a sharp cut across your chest, but you stood firm, not backing down. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you voiced your final sentiment to the two groups of warring Greeks. “I don’t care whose side you guys fall on when it comes to this overblown drama between me and Jungkook. The fighting, the pranks, all of it, it’s over.” 

“Agreed.” Jungkook bit out before turning and walking towards the Lambda house, a silent command for his Brothers to do the same. 

You didn’t stand there for a single second longer and began walking toward your own house, your fellow Sisters following. Your best friends, Sana and Jennie, instantly threw their arms around your shoulders. “Vodka?” The universal distraction from all things awful in life. 

You shook your head. “Tequila.” The universal eraser to all things awful in life. “Lots of tequila.”

 ——-

“He’s lucky that we’re in a truce now or I would’ve thought up something diabolical for his arrogant ass,” Jennie said as she dusted some blush on her cheeks. 

“I know right, ugh!” Sana made a disgusted sound as she handed you the necklace she was letting you borrow for the night. “Telling you to apologize first. Like fuck you. You haven’t even done anything.”

You simply sighed, jumping to get your jeans past your thighs. “It’s fine guys. As long as no more issues pop up we can just ignore them and act like none of this ever happened.” 

“I know, I know, but it just pisses me off that they always bring your name into the argument. Like you didn’t tell us to go and mess with them. We did it ourselves, and sure, looking back on it now we shouldn’t have done it — even though they were some nice fucking flowers — but regardless, they pushed it to another level.” Sana let out a final huff as she hopefully released the last of her ranting for the night. 

“The point of the tequila,” You said as you filled three shot glasses, several wedges of lime waiting beside them, “Is to forget the problems. Not continue thinking about them.” 

Sana snapped her fingers and pointed at you with a smile as she picked up her shot. “You know what, you’re right. Fuck the Lambdas. They no longer exist. In my head we live next to a vacant patch of grass.” 

“Exactly.” Jennie picked up her glass, leaving the final one for you. “Cheers to no longer having to deal with the house that must not be named.”

The three of you let out a little cheer before clinking your glasses together and forcing your bodies through the post-shot shivers that followed. 

After the front yard meeting fiasco you knew immediately you would be going out. However, it had still been quite early, so you, Sana, and Jennie decided to indulge in several glasses of wine to bide the time before it was late enough to feel like an appropriate time to be downing shots. Tequila at six in the afternoon, even on a Friday, just didn’t feel right, so alcohol juice it had been. Though, the warm feeling that was already radiating through your legs as you walked over to the mirror to do one last once over of your outfit indicated that the so called alcohol juice had done its job as the pre-game to the actual hard liquor pre-game a little too well. 

“Okay, I’m only opting for one more round while we’re here or else we will be having a repeat of St. Patrick’s Day.” Too many green beers that day. Too many. 

“Senior year wisdom.” Jennie placed her hand over her heart. “Our freshman year brains would never.” 

“Our freshman year brains didn’t have an aversion to six different types of alcohol yet.” You laughed as you motioned to take the next round of shots. “And I would like to still be able to look at a bottle of tequila without going into a full-body sweat after tonight, so we’re pacing ourselves.” 

“Oh, Fireball. The days when I could still drink you were so simple.” Sana grabbed her face and grimaced as if Fireball was a long lost god, while you audibly gagged from the name of the cinnamon flavored whiskey alone. 

“Sana, stop. You know Y/N can’t even look at a churro anymore without looking like she’s gonna yak everywhere like a dog.” 

I faked a sniffle. “God, I miss being able to eat churros.” Cinnamon was now inedible to you thanks to your now forever connection between the delectable spice and the previously mentioned unspeakable liquor. A break up that rivaled that of yours and Jungkook’s. 

“Uber’s gonna be here in three minutes,” Jennie said as she returned to your bedside table to grab her shot glass once again. 

The three of you raised your glasses together with a clink. “Let’s fuck it up.” 

——----

The bar right next to your college, simply referred to as “Pub,” was a weird place to be on the first Friday of the new semester. It was a mix of underage freshman trying to slyly sip at their alcohol while attempting to hide the X’s marked on their hands, and of age students that felt a little too old to be at Pub, but who could argue with free drinks for girls until midnight? Definitely not you, Sana, or Jennie. 

The three of you found your temporary home at the tables on the deck right outside of the entrance, the fresh air much preferable to the stuffy atmosphere of the dance floor that you would soon find yourself on given the right song choice to send you flying through the door. 

You watched as Sana shimmied through the crowd of people to return to your table, three tiny plastic cups in hand. “You get a vodka Sprite, you get a vodka Sprite, and I get a vodka Sprite!” She yelled as she set the cups down on the table. 

You laughed. “People may call that basic, but we still get drunk and don’t have to drink Jack and fucking Coke.”

“The Devil’s combo.” Jennie sipped her drink. “You see a guy drinking that: run. He thinks he’s so fucking cool.” 

Sana raised her plastic cup. “Cheers to the truth.” 

“Cheers,” You all agreed collectively. 

“But speaking of guys who don’t drink Jack and Coke, I ran into Namjoon when I went to the bathroom a minute ago.” A blush crept across Jennie’s cheeks. 

“Are you finally gonna see if he’s interested? He’s not your TA anymore, so it’s not sketchy.” 

Jennie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird. He seems so uninterested that it’s intimidating. Like I’ve imagined thirty-seven different scenarios for our first date and he’s only like ‘Hi, Jennie. Bye, Jennie.” 

You and Sana couldn’t help but laugh, however, the amusement was cut short by a decently sized group of familiar males. 

“Fuck me,” You said under your breath, which was enough for Jennie to turn around and see the pack of Lambda boys climbing the wooden steps onto the deck of the bar, Jungkook leading the way. 

“You try to forget your problems and they just walk in on two legs.” Sana groaned. “It’s rude really.” 

The group got caught in the line to get into the bar, which unfortunately left them idling uncomfortably close to your table, and of course something had to be said. 

Jimin glanced down at them sitting, a fake grin plastered to his mouth. “If it isn’t our cordial neighbors.” 

Jennie snapped her head up to look at him, mirroring his forced smile. “Cordial can also mean that we’re pretending you don’t exist. In fact, we no longer acknowledge that we even have neighbors.” 

“That’s fantastic, actually. It means I can forget that awful blowjob you gave me freshman year even happened.” 

Jennie’s jaw clenched for all of a millisecond before responding. “Awful? Say that to my untouched vagina after you came in sixty seconds. Though again, we’re pretending you don’t exist, so I guess I can forget the most underwhelming sexual experience of my life. Thanks, Jimin.” She turned back to you and Sana, not sparing a second glance as if she’d simply given someone directions to the nearest Denny’s. 

But Jimin wasn’t through. “That’s not what happened—”

You could see in your friend’s face she was already squaring up another jab, and as much as you found it entertaining you knew it was setting a bad example. 

“Jennie,” You said at the same time that Jungkook sighed “Jimin.”

You both looked at each other, a silent message of gratefulness passing between the two of you at trying to actually make this work. 

“Guys, neither of us want to get our chapters suspended. If ignoring each other is the best route, do that, or maybe even be friends. Whatever results in no fuckery between our houses, okay?” You reminded them of what was at stake here and everyone nodded, letting any planned animosity fall away as the line to get into the bar began to move. 

You tilted your head, watching as Jungkook’s back disappeared into the building, his eyes crinkling as he smiled brightly at some girl who noticed him the second he made it past the threshold. 

Again, that stupid feeling of longing for something that was clearly dead and gone. But you didn’t want to get too down, so before you could spiral too far you turned back towards your friends. “So did he really last sixty seconds?” 

“No,” Jennie smiled, “But I definitely still have the texts of him telling me the next day it was the best suck of his life. He’s the one that lied first, so I get to bend the truth too.”

“Freshman year is so weird to think about. Everyone was actually friendly. Jennie and Jimin might be dating right now if it wasn’t for our little war.” Sana laughed as she batted the napkin away that Jennie tossed at her. 

“Absolutely not. I want someone like Namjoon, who’s smart and respectful. Not Jimin, who… who…” She trailed off simply finishing her thought with a wordless grimace. 

Jennie said that, but you knew it wasn’t exactly true. You remembered very well when Jennie and Jimin were involved and she actually seemed to enjoy the Lambda’s presence quite a bit. But then things went to shit the summer after your freshman year was over, and well, this was the reality now. Snide comments at every passing instead of mutual invites to beach days. 

You were beginning to let a little slideshow of memories from that first year cloud your head when a song that already had you lifting out of your chair clamored inside the bar. “We dance till dawn!” You pulled your friends by their arms through the entrance, waving your wristbands at the bouncer before pushing your way to the middle of the dance floor. 

“Drinks!” Jennie beamed, remembering that they had finished the others outside. “I’ll be back!” She yelled over the music, pointing towards the bar. 

You and Sana gave her a thumbs up as you began to dance together, singing the lyrics so loud your throats would certainly punish you by night’s end. But you didn’t care. Today had been absolutely disastrous, ripping up old wounds that you wished would just stay permanently beneath their flimsy bandaid, so you were thankful for this music that was blaring so loud that thoughts weren’t even an option, the alcohol that was so potent you could barely remember Jungkook’s smug face from the house meeting today, and your friends that allowed you to be this happy on days this bad. 

A few songs passed and you and Sana were still dancing and getting so hyped up by every new spin that it took you a second to remember that Jennie definitely should’ve been back by now. You looked around, only to find a sight that made you let out a slight scream that was completely concealed by the music. You tapped Sana and began pointing towards the bar. She turned and immediately mirrored your excitement. 

Namjoon was leaning into Jennie at the bar, whispering something into her ear and you could see her smiling, redness once again blooming on her face. In your drunkenness you pulled out your phone and snapped severa blurry pictures, which were sure to be a great topic of discussion in the group chat tomorrow. You watched Jennie nod her head, smiling and pointing to the three drinks in her hand, and then she started back towards where you were. 

“Bitch, the drinks could’ve waited!” You tried to say over the music. “Go back and talk to him.” 

Jennie actually looked giddy as she handed over the drinks to you and Sana. “I am. He’s leaving soon though, but he asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him at the diner down the street.” 

Sana jumped up and down in excitement. “So he basically asked you to marry him? Got it.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s totally gonna propose to me over my omelette.” She joked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Are you guys okay if I go?” 

“Of course, but I will be checking your location in fifteen minutes and if you are not at that diner I will hunt Namjoon’s ass down in two seconds,” You warned. “—Except if you decide you wanna skip the diner and go straight to fucking that’s cool too, just let us know.” 

Jennie threw out another giddy expression at the thought. “I’ll text you guys. Love you!” She said,  kissing her hand and throwing it out to you as she weaved back towards where Namjoon was waiting for her at the bar. 

“Fuck Disney,” You shouted to Sana. “Dreams come true at Pub too.”

She bent over, laughing as she tried to sip her drink. “Ugh, if only we could be that lucky. I’ve never had a TA even close to that hot.”

“Same, but maybe we’ll find something else tonight.” You motioned toward the back where you could see some of the soccer players hanging out. You eyed Jung Hoseok. The two of you had hooked up a few times last year, and getting laid would be a perfect ending to this bad to actually decent day. 

“Oh, I see.” Sana wiggled her brows, giving a knowing look. “Let’s go bump into them.” She grabbed your hand and began leading you through the crowd until you reached the area that the soccer players were idly standing around and sipping their drinks. You started a conversation about something random right behind Hoseok, and it was only a minute or so before he turned around and noticed the two of you. 

“Oh, look who it is.” He smiled, hugging you. “Been a while.” 

“I know your summer must’ve been so dull without me,” You flirted, sipping at your drink. 

“No question.” He leaned back against the wall, pulling you by the waist so you weren’t halfway on the dance floor and constantly being bumped into. Sana noticed the gesture and took that as her cue to let things simmer between you and Hoseok. 

“Y/N, I see Nayeon and Joy over there.” She pointed towards the other corner of the bar, where you saw the two Tri Delts mingling. “I’m gonna go over there, okay?” 

“Sounds good.” 

She leaned into your ear, whispering, “If you wanna go home with him just text me. I’ll catch a ride with them on the way back to the house.” 

“I’m ninety-five percent sure I will, but I’ll text you to make sure,” You whispered back. 

She squeezed your shoulder before pulling back. “Take care of her Jung. I’ve heard you’re very good at that.” Sana smiled like a tiny devil before running through the crowd, leaving you slightly slack-jawed. 

You bit your lip, a small warmth creeping into our face. “Please, ignore that,” You bit through an awkward laugh. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” He smiled, shrugging before leaning next to your ear. “I mean I have taken care of you every single time we’ve been together, right?” 

His breath was hot against the side of your face, leaving you tingling. You lifted your hand, cupping his jaw as you pulled him back to look him in the face. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re in a bar and you can’t do anything about it.” 

He smiled, eyes drifting to your mouth. “I mean we could always leave. It’s almost closing time anyways.” 

You smiled. “One more drink, after I finish this one.” 

“Perfect.” He leaned in, gave you a small peck on the lips before ruffling your hair a little and turning to say something to his friend. Presumably it was something about him getting laid tonight, which was exactly the same conversation you were about to have with your friend. 

You: the hookup is secure 

Sana: quick work. i’m proud 

Sana: joy and nayeon said that lisa is sick in the bathroom and they’re about to take her back to the house, so i was just going to catch a ride with them if you’re going with hoseok. sound good? 

You: oh really? i hope she’s okay. make sure she gets water at home. and yes i’ll be fine. we were gonna have one last drink and then go. i’ll text you when i make it to his place

Sana: sounds good. love you!

You slipped your phone back into your pocket after returning the sentiment. 

“Everything good?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah, one of our friends is sick so Sana was just letting me know she was gonna go home with her.” 

“Damn,” Hoseok tsked, jokingly.  “Does that mean I’m stuck with you for the night?” 

“It would seem so.” You smiled, and then he pulled you beneath his arm and adjusted the backwards cap on his head. 

“You know, I’m all for just fucking or whatever, but you’re really never gonna say yes to a date, are you?” 

You paused before answering, remembering that time last year that he’d asked about actually taking you out to dinner. You had thought about it, but in the end you just decided you had no desire to even slightly pivot in the direction of being any more than friends with benefits with someone. Though, if anyone were able to sway you away from that mindset after Jungkook, it would be Hoseok, but just not yet.

“If I let you take me to Steak n’ Shake after this, will that suffice?” You giggled at the way he rolled his eyes while still smiling. 

“I have leftovers in my fridge better than the food from there, so I’ll let you have that.” He paused, a slight glimmer filling his eyes. “Maybe I’ll light a candle, make it romantic, sort of like a date.” 

Your skin prickled slightly at the mention of the candle, a call back to one of their more… unconventional hook ups from last year.

“Is candle wax being melted onto my naked body and drunkenness really a good mix?” You asked, even though it had been one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. 

“Not that drunk, but it could always wait until the morning.” 

You tapped your finger to your lips as if you were pondering it. “Let me get my last drink and I’ll let you know my answer.” 

“I have a tab open.” He motioned towards the bar. “Just get it on mine.” 

“Thanks,” You said, even though you planned to pay for it yourself. Random guys you didn’t mind hustling a few free drinks from, but not guys you were actually sort of friends with. 

You walked up to the bartender. “Vodka Sprite,” You said over the thumping music. He nodded and then stepped to the left and made your drink. He handed it to you as you slipped him your credit card, motioning to close the tab out. 

You were already halfway done with sipping on the drink when the bartender returned a slight look of awkwardness on his face. “Uh, it declined.” 

Your brows furrowed. Your financial aid refund for school had definitely been deposited into your bank account. You knew this because you had jumped for joy when it hit and you were finally able to return to the sanctuary that is no-ads Hulu. There was enough to cover your dues for staying in the Tri Delt house this semester, so there should certainly have been enough to cover a four dollar drink. You were pondering what to do, maybe just put it on Hoseok’s tab like he said you could. It was probably just your actual bank having issues and it would sort itself out in the morning anyways. You were just about to say to put it on his tab when someone slid their muscled bicep right in front of your face with a credit card in hand. 

You knew that it was pathetic that you knew exactly who that bicep belonged to before he even turned to look at your face, black strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

“I got it,” Jungkook said to the bartender. 

“Why’d you do that?” You asked. 

“Because I was right behind you and heard him, and I know how embarrassed you get about things like that.” He shrugged, grabbing the paper and pen that the bartender slid back towards him. 

He was right. You had terrible secondhand embarrassment, let alone actual first hand embarrassment. “Well… thanks. I don’t know why it did that. I got my refund already.” 

“Just check your bank account. If the money’s in there then the bank system is probably just fucked up right now.” 

“Yeah…” You slid your phone out of your pocket and immediately went to your banking app and pressed your fingerprint down onto the login. You waited a few seconds, and when your balance appeared on the screen, you felt your heart drop. “What in the actual fuck?” You said, staring at your bank account with a whopping dollar and twenty cent in it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed as he rounded to your side to look at your screen to see the low number that was not at all what it was yesterday. “I thought you said you got your refund?” 

You were shaking your head. “I… I did. I don’t know what the hell happened. Oh my god, I’m gonna freak the fuck out. I have to pay my housing cost for Tri-Delt with that money. Like what the fuck is going on—”

You felt Jungkook’s on your back, rubbing light circles. “Just breathe.” You stiffened at the touch, but didn’t try to pull away. “It’s probably just a financial aid fuck up. Call them tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

You knew that he was probably right, but a creeping feeling was telling you otherwise. This was your fourth year in college dealing with the same exact scholarships every single semester and this had never happened before. 

“Fuck.” You brought your hands up to push at either of your temples. “That really just fucked up my whole mood. I’m not even horny anymore—” You cringed, realizing what you just said. “Please, just ignore me I’m drunk.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression he’d made at your admission. 

“What’re you doing now? Where’s Sana and Jennie?” He asked, ignoring your flub and finally lowering his hand from your back. 

“They’re not here. Jennie left earlier and I told Sana I was gonna go home with… Hoseok, but now I just wanna go lay in bed by myself so I can spiral into every negative possibility of why my bank account looks like that.” 

“It’s gonna be fine.” This time he placed his hand on the back of your neck, cupping it slightly. It was a motion that had always for some reason calmed you down when things got overwhelming. It seemed he remembered. But even though you appreciated the comfort, the feeling of his hand there made something in your stomach flutter — that stupid feeling of longing seriously needed it’s wings shredded. You gripped his forearm, pulling it away from you, and you saw something shift in his eyes as you did so. 

“I guess I’m gonna go tell Hoseok that I’m just gonna go home—” But then you suddenly remembered something. “Fuck! I can’t Uber because I don’t have any money on my card.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This day was so bad and then actually pretty good, only to turn out fucking awful.” 

There was a couple of seconds of silence between the two of you, but you kept your eyes closed, trying to clear the fog in your head from all the alcohol to figure out what you were going to do. However, Jungkook finally let out a sigh before speaking. “Come on.”

“What?” You asked.

“All of these people are trying to get out of here at once and they’re ordering Uber’s at the same time.” He flashed his phone screen, showing that it was not only almost closing time, but that the next driver wouldn’t be available for thirty-two minutes with everyone having already ordered their rides. “It’s a twenty minute walk back to your house. I’ll just walk you there.” 

Even though Jungkook was currently the president of the Lambdas, he actually decided not to live in the frat house this year and instead opted for a cheaper apartment that was still near campus. You and Jungkook both relied on scholarships to pay for most of your schooling,  and fraternity and sorority dues on their own were not cheap, and living on Greek Drive only made that burden a million times worse. 

But the point was that Jungkook had no need to go to campus because he lived in a completely different direction now.

“You don’t even live there anymore. How’re you gonna get home?” You asked. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch and get Tae or Jimin to drive me to my place in the morning.” He shrugged. 

You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of having to walk all the way back to campus with Jungkook,  considering just a five minute car ride earlier in the day had been sufficiently awkward all on its own. But you also were unfortunately no longer in the mood for sex, leaving Hoseok’s house out of the picture, and your bank account was for some reason drained, which resulted in you only having one option really. 

“Alright,” You finally said. “Just let me tell Hoseok and then we can go.” 

He nodded as you walked back towards the group of soccer players, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder. It seemed your dismay was painted plainly on your face because he immediately asked what was wrong. 

“I actually can’t hang out tonight. I just found out my bank account is fucked up and I can’t really think about anything else right now, so I was just gonna head home, but I wanted to let you know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine,” He said, shaking his head. “Do you have a way home then?” 

You glanced towards Jungkook, releasing a heavy sigh. “Uhm, yeah, Jungkook was gonna walk me.” 

Hoseok’s eyes darted toward where you pointing, narrowing slightly. Most people knew about the feud between the Lambdas and the Tri Delts, which meant most people also knew the details about why there was a feud in the first place. 

“Are you sure you’re good with that?” Hoseok asked. 

Not really, but a twenty minute walk wasn’t going to kill you. “We’re fine, promise. Actually we’ve been… cordial lately.” You tried to say it like it was actually the truth, but you thought maybe if you spoke it into existence then it would actually come to fruition. 

Hoseok tilted his head, giving you a look that said he didn’t really believe you, but regardless he pulled you in for a hug. “Okay, let me know when you get home.” 

“I will,” You assured him before waving goodbye and making your way back towards Jungkook. 

“Ready,” He huffed, a slight annoyance seeming to coat his words as he pushed himself off of the wall and started towards the entrance. 

“Are you really gonna have an attitude?” You asked as you did a little jog to catch up with him. “I would’ve found another way if I knew you were gonna act like an ass.” 

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just tired.” He placed his hand on one of your shoulders, moving you in front of him so the two of you could move through the mass of people more quickly until you were walking through the entrance and down the wooden ramp that connected to the outside deck. 

“Then why’d you offer? I could’ve called someone to pick me up.” 

“Because,” He paused, motioning towards the crosswalk that already had dozens of drunk college kids filing through it. “I couldn’t just leave you there, and I thought just taking you home would be quicker than you calling people to try and find a ride.” 

Ouch. He was just trying to be nice and you were calling him an ass. Heat flushed beneath your skin from embarrassment. “I’m sorry…” You finally said as you made it to the sidewalk and began the straight shot down the main road towards Greek Drive. “Thank you for making sure I got home alright.” You added, avoiding any eye contact and opting to walk a little bit in front of him. 

After about five entire minutes of silence you thought to yourself, yeah, this was going pretty much as expected. But you were thankful that at least there wasn’t any hostility. You didn’t want any more arguments like the ones from today.  You had seethed at each other after the two of you left President Kwon’s office. Had thrown insults at one another at the meeting between your houses. Like sure, maybe the silence hurt more than it should’ve. The idea that the guy you started dating and fell in love with when you were a junior in high school not even being able to fake a conversation with you for twenty minutes was mildly heartbreaking to say the least. But again, the silence was better than the anger that had fueled most of your interactions since breaking up the summer after starting college. 

You had become somewhat content with the lack of speaking. You were still a few steps ahead of Jungkook as he walked behind you, but he suddenly picked up speed and joined you, shoulder skating against yours before he was curving his hand around your waist and nudging you to go to the side of the sidewalk that wasn’t closest to the main road that was currently buzzing with post-bar traffic. 

“Wouldn’t want you falling face first into a Camero that someone’s Daddy bought them, Drunkie,” He said, offering a playful smile as he dropped his arm back down to his side. 

You were caught so off guard by the positive expression from Jungkook that it took you a second for your head to actually realize what he had even said. You pushed his shoulder. “I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Well, considering I can literally smell the tequila on you, I’d rather not take any chances of you falling into oncoming traffic.” 

“You’re being nice.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Too nice.” 

“What?” He chuckled. “I’m just making an effort to try and fix things between us so that the members don’t see us constantly fighting and think it’s okay to do the same.” 

Ah, that’s what it was. He didn’t care if you guys actually patched this up, just that it looked like you did. 

“Well, we could always pretend to like each other, since the appearance is all that actually matters apparently.” You forced a smile and began walking a little bit faster. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of being alone with him and his stupid presence that overwhelmed you with thoughts that you wished would just disappear. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He said almost immediately, not letting that unbearable plunge into silence return. “I would love it if we could be nice to each other and actually mean it… I just…” He trailed off, seeming to hesitate in whatever he was trying to say. 

“Just spit it out.” 

There was one more second of a brief pause before he spoke quietly. “I just don’t think that’s ever going to happen, because I know you still blame me for everything.” 

You tensed up, still keeping your pace of being slightly ahead of him. You inhaled a deep breath through your mouth before turning to look over your shoulder at him, his eyes already waiting to meet yours. 

“I don’t blame you.” You smiled, but with a sad furrowing of your brows. “I… resent you.” 

Jungkook’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in surprise. “I mean, that’s… that’s even worse than blaming me.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” 

His expression turned more puzzled. “How is you resenting me better than you blaming me?” 

“Because, blame implies that I think it’s your fault… Resentment just means I’m angry and upset, regardless of whether I think you were right or wrong for what happened.” You felt the bridge of your nose begin to tingle with that telltale sign of tears, so you quickly looked forward and urged them to stay hidden until you were at least in the comfort of your own room. “I’m just resentful of the things I now think and feel about myself, but that isn’t your fault. It’s my issue to deal with.” You shrugged. 

“What things do you think and feel about yourself?” He asked, and you could tell that he had hurried his pace and was a little closer behind you now. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want to talk about this. The two of you hadn’t had an in depth conversation like this since you’d first broken up. But things were different now compared to that first conversation. Back then it was raw and fresh, the pain too intense to notice what was growing underneath. Now it was a scar, and you were left with all of the emotions, feelings, and implications of how and why things ended. 

“I… I don’t really wanna talk about it honestly.” You said that, but you also wanted Jungkook to understand that you were perfectly aware of how you had acted the past few years. You may have said and acted in ways that seemed bitchy and ridiculous, but it was because of these disgusting emotions that were now plaguing your mind constantly, and maybe it was time he knew. “I kind of wish we had broken up over this giant fight that was about something unfixable. Something where we both clearly did things wrong and we were both through with each other because there was no way either of us were going to change our minds. I think I could’ve dealt with that so much better than what you actually broke up with me for. Which was just the fact that you thought I was...” You trailed off, the word that bombarded your thoughts mercilessly landing on your tongue. “Boring.”

You heard the way his shoes scratched against the concrete at his screeching halt, and he clearly thought that that was going to stop you as well, but you kept going, not actually wanting to hear any response from him. You said your piece and now maybe he would understand. But of course you knew that he wasn’t just going to let it end like that, which was made apparent when you felt him suddenly gripping your arm, trying to get you to slow down for a second. 

“I never said or even thought that about you, Y/N, ever.” He tried to pull you to look at him, but you twisted your body and threw a hand over your face to cover your eyes that were already glistening. 

“No, stop,” You said firmly, and he ceased with trying to get you to look at him. “I told myself after that night in my room I was never going to let you see me cry over you ever again, and if I look at you right now, I will. I just know I will, so please just stop.” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, leaving just the sound of grasshoppers and the random gust of cars passing by. You thought maybe he would just let it go and you could continue the last few minutes of the walk without speaking, but you had verbalized your thoughts and Jungkook was without a doubt going to respond. 

“I know how it’s easy to think that,” He started, his voice a whisper with his hand still wrapped around your arm, as if he was afraid you would bolt down the street without letting him finish if he let you go. “But that’s not why I ended things. You were the first girl I ever actually dated, and when we got here I just started thinking about—”

“—All of your new exciting options.” You cut in, anger flaring before you could stop it. 

“Y/N…” He trailed off, squeezing your arm. “That’s not what it was—”

“—No,” You said before he could try and dance his way through some explanation of how he just wanted to go crazy in college without actually saying it out loud. “You don’t have to explain it again. I’d rather you didn’t actually. I remember in excruciating detail the way you explained it that night. I understand, I get it… So, p-please,” Your voice cracked, finally being too overwhelmed by this entire situation. “Let’s just keep walking and not talk about it anymore. Please.” 

It turned so quiet I could even hear how hard Jungkook was breathing. It sounded heavy but unnatural, like he was trying to forcibly steady his heartbeat. And after a few seconds you felt him finally drop his hand from your arm and you didn’t wait for him to say a single word before you started down the sidewalk again.

The Tri Delt house was five minutes away, leading to five minutes of complete and utter silence between two people that was so palpable it blocked out the scratching of your shoes as you walked and the rustle of tiny animals running through the trees next to you. It engulfed you in this tunnel of noiselessness. 

Eventually you saw the bend at the end of the street where yours and Jungkook’s houses sat next to one another. It was only a little bit away, yet it felt so far. Twenty minutes. All it had taken was twenty minutes of the two of you not partaking in your back and forth hostility from the last few years for you to break down again. It felt pathetic. It was completely pathetic. 

You were finally approaching the point where the Tri Delt and Lambda house split into opposite directions. All you had to do was keep walking straight while Jungkook veered to the left and— 

You felt the light tug at the belt loop of your jeans, stopping you in place, just like from earlier today after the suspension meeting. You were about to tell him to let you go, when he beat you to the punch. 

“You’re not boring, Y/N. You never have been.” He was so close you could feel his breath hitting the back of your head. “It was one of the millions of reasons that I loved you. I just wanted you to know that.” 

And then he was gone. The pressure of someone tugging you in place disappearing, leaving you to catch your balance as you finally stood alone. You forced yourself to stare straight ahead as you walked towards your front door, not daring to look at him as he walked to the Lambda house. You shoved your keys inside the lock, forcing it open and then taking the stairs by two’s until you were collapsing in your bed, fingers crushing your pillow as you finally let yourself cry. 

——--

A phone was ringing inside of your dreams. It was ringing and ringing and ringing until you realized the sound was coming from some otherworldly place — oh yeah, that would be the current hell that is your life. 

You blinked a couple of times, blindly reaching for the source of the noise that was lost somewhere in your bed. You finally felt your hand slide across the leather of your phone case. You brought it up to read the name and you felt your stomach curl. 

‘Jungkook the Jackass’ was calling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he was calling you at seven in the morning you probably would’ve just sent him straight to voice mail in order to avoid any further conversations about what transpired last night. But alas, it was seven in the morning and just seemed to be too early of a time for him to be calling about something mundane. 

You regretfully lifted the phone to your ear. “Yes?” You grumbled, voice scratchy. 

“We have a problem.” No mention of last night. It was just a clear cut declaration that did not sound good. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up from bed. 

“Come outside your house. Now.” 

Your eyes widened and you instantly jumped from bed. He sounded urgent enough that you decided your flimsy nighttime apparel was going to have to do. You hurried down the stairs and opened the front door, revealing Jungkook in the front yard staring at something. 

“What is it?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to hide your bralessness. 

Jungkook pressed his lips together as he pointed towards the front of the Tri Delt house. “My idiot Lambda Brothers.” 

You followed the direction of his finger, your mouth dropping at the sight before you. 

Dozens and dozens and dozens of boxers covering every inch of the first story of the house. You turned towards Jungkook, so angry and anxiety-riddled that someone from administration had already seen this, that you could hardly speak. 

“I’m going to murder them,” You finally managed to spit through clenched teeth. 

“No,” He started, turning to you, mirroring your own frustration. “I’m going to murder them.” 

→ part 02

[btssaysstudy]

Cheap Sunglasses || jjk

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (BTS) x reader

Note: Inspired by cheap sunglasses by John K || do let me know if you liked it :)

Summary: Being a teaching assistant for college definitely has it monetary perks but who knew it had other perks in meeting a potential significant other.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury (not the reader), angst, jungkook being an annoying player at times, mentions of over-exhaustion from schoolwork

“Thanks y/n!” Mingyu grinned, reaching out for a fist bump. You laughed, returning the gesture. “No problem, just doing my job.” 

“I’ll treat you for a meal soon, you can count on it! I’ll see you around!” He gave you a quick side hug before leaving the lecture hall. You got up from your seat, packing your belongings to head off for lunch. 

“y/n! Could you help me compile the outline for the chapters to read for the semester?” Your professor approached you, handing you the list of chapters that class had to read. “Sure, when do you need it by?”

“Preferably by the end of this week? No rush! As long as it’s before midterms.”

“Okay, sure!” You glanced at the list, it was the same reading list as last semester, you just had to use your own outline for this semester. You smiled, thankful that nothing much changed with the syllabus so you had less work to do as a teaching assistant.

Your professor thanked you and left the hall. “You know, one definite perk of being a TA is tutoring hot students. Mingyu was definitely hitting on you.”

“No he’s not. We’re friends, I already met him for one of my classes last semester.”

“Mm, yea don’t believe you. Anyway, let’s hurry go, I’m starving.” Sooyoung rubbed her stomach and you grabbed your bag, leaving the hall with your friends. 

One definite perk, which was not what Sooyoung said, of being a TA was that you get paid and you definitely needed the money. It was tough to juggle being a TA at first and you weren’t sure if you were cut out for it, but 2 semesters later, you’ve been a TA every semester and it’s become a part of your schedule.

“Chan-mi!” A loud bright voice called out for other friend. The three of you stopped, turning around to find the boy who was dubbed as the “sunshine” of your college.

“Yes?” Chan-mi clearly unfazed by his loudness. Hoseok grinned, saying a brief hello to you and Sooyoung. “Our club manager just texted me that we have an upcoming gig. Just a little insider info for you, you’re on the performing team.”

Chan-mi nodded her head with a short laugh, “He texted me too actually.”

“What?! I thought i’ll be the good news bearer.” Hoseok pouted, his group approached him, patting him on the shoulder to rush him for lunch.

“I’ll see you at next practice then!” Chan-mi waved goodbye as he was being dragged away by his friends.

His friends. That group.

That group was popular and they knew it. They don’t seem to bask in it but they would slip some of the times — easily charming people to get what they need, having girls praying that they’ll become their girlfriends. It was no surprise that they have quite a list of girls they dated.

Despite the list,their reputation wasn’t that bad. They would make it clear to the girls they take out on dates — that they’re not looking to commit. You figured it was the least they could to do the poor girls who were pining for them, laying out the facts immediately.

“So what are we eating? I’m about to die any second.” Sooyoung grumbled once more.

—

“If you’d like to book my TA, I’ve sent you an email with a google sheet for you to find a slot. She’s a popular one so better book a slot asap if you need her help.” Your professor announced to the class, making you feel shy from her comment, your eyes glued to your screen as you felt the stares.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know that you were a popular TA. You did put in the effort to help others since you were being paid after all, so, you did deserve the credit.

Throughout class, you could do your own things since you didn’t need to pay attention to the lesson. Halfway through the class, you clicked on the google sheet link to see that your upcoming week has been almost fully booked.

‘maybe i need a pay raise’ you thought to yourself, opening your own calendar to update your own schedule. Your eyes landed on a particular name, shocked that he even bothered to book a slot. 

Jeon Jungkook.

You stopped yourself from whipping your head around to find him. He was part of that group and known to be the very athletic one. You guessed you stereotyped him to be those athletes that didn’t care about studies. You felt slightly uneasy, knowing his reputation in college and the girls.

‘It’s okay, it’s just one time slot.’

Once you noted the ones who booked a time slot with you the upcoming week, you contacted each of them to settle the venue & confirm the timing.

We can meet at my place :) - Jungkook

Yea, I’m not entirely comfortable going to a stranger’s place - y/n

Relax, it was a joke. How about near your place? So you don’t have to travel so much. - Jungkook

That works fine, there’s a cafe near mine. I’ll text you the address later. - y/n

Once class ended your two friends rushed to your seat. “So how’s your schedule Ms. Popular?”

“Really busy.”

“I saw the sheet, Jeon Jungkook booked a slot with you? Perks of being a TA is definitely helping cute students.” Sooyoung giggled like a little pre-teen girl.

“You don’t even need to be a TA to get cute guys, you have so many admirers.” Chan-mi made a very true remark.

“I’ll admit, you’re not wrong. But y/n’s snagging boys of a different league.”

“Stop idolising them like they’re gods.”

“They’re looks are god-like.” Sooyoung countered.

“You’re unbelievable.”

—

“Hey,” someone tapped your shoulder, taking out your earpiece to greet Jungkook. “Hey.”

He was dressed in a typical tired college student, in grey sweats and a black hoodie. Yet, you had to admit he looked cute in them.

“Sorry, did I make you wait long?”

“Oh no, I just came early to make sure we get a good spot. Not too near the rest of the customers.”

“I see you want a little privacy.” Jungkook grinned cheekily, clearly implying something else. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him, “Sorry, just kidding.” He quickly apologised, taking the seat opposite you.

“Anyway, we can just begin immediately. Do you have any questions?”

Jungkook nodded his head, taking out his laptop. “I do actually. Quite a long list if you don’t mind.”

“Well you have me for an hour. Go ahead.” 

Throughout the 2 hours, you realised you really stereotyped him a great amount. You assumed he barely paid attention in class but he did — he even had a list of questions to ask. You honestly enjoyed helping these type of people the most, those that made their own effort to help themselves. 

“You know,” Jungkook spoke, coming back from ordering his drink. “For the past hour and a half, I gotta admit, I stereotyped you to be a super uptight and socially awkward person. Then again, having to help tutor a lot of people would need social skills as well.” 

With a chuckle, you shrugged your shoulders, “I stereotyped you too, so I guess we’re both guilty.”

Curious, Jungkook rested his weight on his arms as he leaned closer to you, “Oh really? What did you stereotype me as then?” A playful smirk clearly threatening to appear on his lips. 

“A dumb jock.” You mischievously grinned back at him, his smile dropped, clearly not expecting that answer. It felt good to bruise that ego of his, even if it was just a split second. “Since I’m asking you to tutor me, I’m not gonna argue that.” He leaned back, regaining his composure and confidence.

You could feel his entire presence exuding with confidence, though he did have something to be confident about. In fact, he had a few things to be confident about - athletically gifted, popular and handsome. Anyone would call you a liar if you said you didn’t think he was handsome. 

“If you don’t have anymore questions, we can wrap this up now.”

Jungkook nodded his head, “Thanks for helping me. Appreciate it.” He reached out his hand, offering a handshake. “A handshake?”

“Are you afraid of a little physical contact?” He teased.

Rolling your eyes, you reached out to give him a firm shake. “Glad I could help you.” He gave you a cute bunny smile, grabbing his things and leaving you behind in the cafe. You stayed for a few more minutes before heading back to your place to prepare dinner for your guests.

Cooking always seemed to make time pass by quickly because before you even realised, your friends were spamming your doorbell, rushing you to let them in. “How was he?” Sooyoung questioned the moment she entered your house. 

“I had a good day thank you.” You sarcastically replied, grabbing a cup for them. “He was alright, he actually came prepared with questions.”

“That’s surprising. I honestly thought he booked a slot just to flirt with you.” Chan-mi commented as she helped you set up the dining table. “Come on, he wouldn’t waste his time on me.”

“Why not? You’re a great catch.” Sooyoung argued.

“Pretty sure I give off the vibe of “date to settle” and not “date for the fun”. So obviously, he won’t even bother.” 

“Mm, you do have a point for that.”

“Anyway, enough about my tutees, let’s just enjoy girls night.” You raised your shot glass of soju, Sooyoung grinned excitedly, “Cheers to us”

-

As every week’s slot was released in the online sheet, Jungkook was always one of the first few to book. You couldn’t help but be surprised every time you saw his name on the schedule. 

“So you picked up the sport by accident?” You clarified again as you took another sip. Jungkook nodded his head, leaning back into his chair. “Seokjin was the one who wanted to learn it, he dragged me to the trial class and the rest was history. He takes credit for it.” He laughed, a reminiscing look on his face.

“From your stories, you guys seem like brothers.” You watched an endearing smile creep onto his face, “They really do seem like it.”

His phone started vibrating and he checked the caller ID before sighing, silencing the call. You furrowed your eyebrows together, “What’s with that annoyed look?”

Jungkook shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “Nothing much, just someone I went out with a week ago.”

“Trouble in paradise?” You joked.

“There’s no paradise. It was just a date, nothing more to it.” He nonchalantly dismissed it. You felt a bit offended of how casual he was treating their feelings. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to go out with them, you know? You’re just giving them false hope.”

Jungkook sat upright, “That’s not true. I clearly tell them that I don’t mind going out on a date but that’s nothing. Nothing more than a date out. So it’s on them for still going for it.”

You sighed, “But you already know these people are dating you and hoping that they’ll be the one who will change your mind about the idea of commitment.” Jungkook shrugged, “Maybe that’ll happen one day.”

Narrowing your eyes at the boy in front you, you wondered if that was what he had been secretly hoping for whenever he went out with these girls. “Do you want that to happen? Is that why you’re more than glad to go out on dates?”

He didn’t answer immediately, staring at you as if he was thinking of a reply. Clearing his throat he adjusted his sitting position, “I didn’t say that. I just said maybe it’ll happen.”

“Yea but are you hoping for it to happen?”

Jungkook casted a soft glare, “Okay enough about my love life. How about you? Aren’t you single as well?”

You leaned back, nodding your head, “Yea, what about it?”

“Well, why aren’t you attached?”

Pressing your lips into a thin line as you thought carefully of your answer. “Unlike you, I date to settle.” Jungkook jutted out his bottom lip, internalising your reply as he nodded his head in response. “Interesting. You’ll probably click well with Jimin.”

“Your friend Jimin?”

“Yea, he has the same thought as you. Always nagging at me about the same thing you just did.” Jungkook chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he recalled the countless times Jimin was talking about Jungkook’s active love life. 

“He’s right you know… Doesn’t it get lonely always meeting different people?”

There was a short pause in the conversation, Jungkook’s eyes shifting away, his gaze fixed on the table. “To be honest, yea. But at the same time it’s what keeps me from feeling lonely. Doesn’t make sense, I know.”

You smiled, “It’s cool, I kinda get it. But after our numerous study sessions together, I’m certain you deserve to be in a good relationship.”

Jungkook shrugged, “Thanks but I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

Confused, you questioned for an explanation. Jungkook’s eyes wandered around as he thought of a response. The athlete randomly took out his pair of shades. “Are the shades part of your answer or something?”

“It’s cheap.”

“Okay?” Your response sounded for confused, wondering if he was trying to change the topic. If he was, it was a very weird way.

“I buy the cheap ones because I know i’m going to lose them sooner or later. Can’t keep the good ones. That’s how I feel about my love life. Sometimes it feels like I can’t have nice things.”

“Man.” You breathed out, leaning back into your seat. “That’s a great analogy and all but don’t be so bleak. Between the two of us? You’re probably going to be first one who gets into a solid relationship.”

Jungkook chuckled, “Thanks for the faith TA. Do you have the same amount of faith in me for this module?”

You pursed your lips jokingly, “I think you’ll need more consultations for the same level of faith.” Breaking into a chuckle right after and so did Jungkook.

The popular athlete reached out his tattooed hand once again, for a handshake. By then, you were used to this gesture, chuckling as you reached across the table to shake his hands. “Tell you what, let’s take a pause on tutoring. You should meet the rest.”

“The rest as in your group?”

“Yea,” He stood up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and stuffed his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets. You liked his laid-back look, he always wore that similar style whenever he was meeting you and you assumed it was to get comfortable enough to study. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me?” Jungkook smirked. You rolled your eyes, standing up to get your bag. “Come on, don’t be so mean to me.” He playfully pouted and he looked cute. You felt yourself feel shy just from that, “I am not.”

“Yes you are, you always mock me or insult me. Where’s my compliment?”

You pursed your lips, bringing your finger to your lips as you pretended to ponder. “You’re doing well with this class.” 

Unsatisfied, he grumbled, “That’s not a compliment.”

“Of course it is.” You grinned cheekily at him, patting his shoulders. “But alright, you look cute in sweats.” Even though you clearly sounded nonchalant, your heart was racing from admitting that and you hoped that your face wasn’t getting hot. You kept your composure, and made the first move to leave the cafe. 

You realised that you didn’t know where you were going to meet his friends, “Oh yea, where are we going?” You turned around to see Jungkook still standing in place. He cleared his throat and adjust his bag strap. “R-Right, just follow me.”

You didn’t want to tease him further but you clearly saw a pink hue on his cheeks. “Cute.” You muttered to yourself as he led the way.

—

“You want a snack? My treat, for all the tutoring you’ve been giving me.” 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—“

“Okay I’ll get you your usual.” He winked at you before heading off to the counter. You smiled to yourself, watching his figure walk away. You continued on your own work as you waited for him to come back. 

Jungkook happily came back as if he won a prize. “Guess who just got free cake? We did!” Jungkook cheered, pushing his stuff aside to make way for the food. “Free cake? Why?”

“So the lady who we always see here apparently owns this place. She’s at the counter today and she randomly gave me this cake for us to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

Confused, you looked at your calendar. “Oh, it’s Valentine’s Day.” “yea it is, didn’t you know?” “Clearly didn’t.” You shrugged, “But you should’ve told her we’re not together. I feel bad for the free cake.”

“No no, you should feel flattered she called us a cute couple. It means you’re cute.” Jungkook’s body froze for a moment realizing what he had just said. You laughed, “Yea right. Good joke, kook.” 

Jungkook frowned, “I’m not joking. I think you’re cute.”

You pointed your pen in his direction, “You know, when I was young I heard that cute meant adorable but ugly.”

“That’s obviously not what I mean. You’re not ugly, that’s for sure.” Jungkook argued without hesitation. You felt flustered this time, retracting your pen. “T-Thanks, I guess.”

The two of you not only spend weekly 2h sessions together, but also became “study buddies”. Jungkook was unsurprisingly super concentrated whenever he started studying. You realised it was his character to always give it his all even if it was something he wasn’t too fond of — like studying. You also noticed his eyebrows would furrow as he tried to comprehend the materials, or sigh and scold himself whenever he found himself stuck. 

He had a lot of endearing habits while studying, you couldn’t help but smile every time you noticed it. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day, why aren’t you on a date today?”

“Because we arranged a study session today.” Jungkook answered as if it was so obvious. 

“It’s just one day of not studying, you could’ve just told me. Plus, I’m sure many girls were hinting you to ask them out.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” He smugly answered and it made you feel a tinge of jealousy that Jungkook saw these girls as “date potential” while you were just his “study buddy”. “Tone down your ego—“

“But I’d rather study with you than go out on a date.”

You found yourself speechless, not knowing how you should be replying to that. Sensing that you were lost for words, Jungkook smiled, “Did I just take your breath away?”

“Shut up.” You snapped out of it, throwing your pen at him.

—

Hey y/n! Sorry i’ll be a bit late later, at the clinic so it might take a while before I’m let off! - jk

Are you sick? We can just reschedule! - y/n

No no! Just sprained my ankle during practice, that’s all! - jk

that’s all?! you’re not traveling today. what’s ur address? i can go over instead - y/n

You bit your lip, wondering if you were overstepping by insisting that and quickly sent another text.

if you’re alright w that of course - y/n

sure i just didn’t want to suggest it in case you weren’t, i’ll text u my address in a bit! - jk

On your way to his place, you felt nervous but you shrugged it off, blaming it on your usual ‘first house visit jitters’ — just like any other time you visited a place for the first time. Or so you told yourself. You ignored that feeling as you rang the doorbell, waiting for the injured athlete to answer the door.

“Hey.” Jungkook greeted you with a smile. You took a good look at his casted ankle, his weight resting on his crutch. A wince crept on your face, “Ouch, looks bad.” 

“Thank you for asking, I feel fine.” 

You stepped in, eyes taking your time to wander around his place. It was cozy, not cluttered as you had assumed. Jungkook pointed to the table placed by the window, well-lit for a good place to study or to wind down and have a meal. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Didn’t have much time to tidy up the place before you came.”

“It’s alright, looks neat to me.” Your eyes glanced back down to his ankle, “Are you sure you want to have this session today? I feel like you should be resting—“

“You’re already here. I can take a little revision. Don’t underestimate me.” He teased, gently shoving your shoulder. With a light laugh, you nodded and sat down at the table. You watched Jungkook as he tried to find a comfortable position for himself, especially with his injury. Dropping his crutch on the floor, he settled down quickly to begin the session.

“So how do I know which case to use?” 

“It depends on the scenario prof sets for finals. Just a tip, prof loves answers that argues both sides. So, it’s best if you argue with both cases but conclude with which is more relevant or stronger for the scenario.”

Jungkook nodded his head, his bottom lip jutted out once again as he took down your response in his notes. “Thanks, I’m glad I started consultations with you since the beginning of the semester. I would be drowning will all these laws and cases if I didn’t.”

“I’m sure you would’ve managed fine. Your friends are managing well too. Jimin’s pretty good with this module.” You made an off-handed comment about Jimin as you started to pack up your belongings. You failed to catch the slight furrow in his eyebrows and that irritated twitch in the corner of his lip at the mention of Jimin. He knew you two would match well, which he should be happy for Jimin, but instead, he felt annoyed that Jimin was having consultations with you.

He couldn’t help but ask, “He meets you too?”

“Oh yea,” You nodded, your eyes still not meeting his as you scrolled through your schedule, “He meets me lesser than you though, just once a week.”

Just once a week. He repeated your reply. That was enough to get close to you. Hell, he meets you three times a week almost every week. One would question if he really needed that many consultations a week. Jungkook would argue against that, defending that he needed it. But deep down inside, he knew he was lying. 

You thought the same. Chan-mi and Sooyoung would make remarks on why Jungkook needed three sessions a week, hinting that he just wanted to find excuses to meet you. You would deny it every time, saying that he would always come prepared for each session with questions, proving that he really took those sessions seriously. But just like Jungkook, you too had a feeling that it wasn’t true. 

“Anyway, hope your ankle gets better soon. I better give you time to rest.” You checked the time on your phone. Jungkook did the same time, quick to respond, “Do you want to stay for dinner? I’m going to be ordering delivery anyway. You know... With my ankle. You could have dinner before you leave.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to be casual about it. Jungkook wasn’t sure what was making him particularly nervous to suggest that. He normally wasn’t nervous with his dates. Why was he nervous around you when it was not even a date to begin with?

You contemplated, imagining your schedule in your mind. The pause made him grow nervous, “You don’t have to—“

“I’m down for dinner. My schedule’s not too busy tonight.” You smiled, settling your bag down back on the chair. Jungkook returned an eager grin. “My treat. For coming all the way here to tutor me.”

“Enough with the treats—“

“No negotiations on this one. I really owe you for traveling here, especially on such a last minute notice.” Jungkook shook his head, scrolling through the list of possible food options.

“Alright, thanks kook.�� 

That nickname made his lips tug upwards as he tried to fight the smile. “No problem. What do you want to have?”

—

Dinner didn’t take long to arrive, you helped him collect the delivery and set it out on the coffee table. Jungkook had convinced you to watch a movie with him while waiting for dinner. Sinking yourself back onto the couch, the two of you happily enjoyed dinner while watching the movie he had chosen. 

“That’s cute.” You commented as the credits rolled. The movie was a short light one and it helped the both of you de-stress from the upcoming finals season. You really needed that self-care. 

“Thanks for the dinner and movie. I honestly needed it. Haven’t had much time to wind down lately.” 

“Too busy with your consultations?” 

You nodded your head, letting out a long sigh. “Yea, don’t get me wrong. It’s rewarding helping others, especially with the pay. But it’s just during this killer period that makes me regret it.”

Jungkook frowned, sitting upright, “I’m sorry I keep booking you.”

You chuckled, “Don’t be sorry. That is my job anyway. Plus, you’re always prepared for the sessions. I hate sessions when they don’t even know why they booked it. Drives me mad.”

Jungkook hummed, agreeing with you. “That must suck.”

“Yea,” your eyes trailed back down to his ankle once again. “What happened with your ankle anyway?”

“Training today. It’s been tough as well for me. Coach has been increasing the intensity and we don’t really get enough rest with studies as well. I wasn’t in the greatest condition today so I slipped.” 

“Yikes. Hope it heals fast though.” You smiled cheekily, “Do I get to sign it?”

Jungkook laughed, “That’s so childish. No one signs casts anymore.”

“Please? I’ve never done it before!” You pouted, doing your best to convince him to let you vandalize his cast. You didn’t need to do much to convince him, he was willing to give in pretty much from the first time you brought it up. “A-Alright. Just don’t draw a dick or something.”

You hummed, feigning consideration. “I wasn’t planning to but now that you mentioned it...”

He glared, grabbing his throw pillow to toss it at your face. “Don’t you dare.”

“I was kidding.” You laughed, rushing to the table to grab a pen, sitting back down close to him to draw on his cast. 

Don’t flunk my module.

“Done!” You added an “A+” next to it, willing yourself to not draw a heart which you almost did. You pulled away from the cast, looking at your work proudly. Jungkook snorted, “Don’t flunk my module? I won’t. Definitely not after all our sessions together.”

“You better.” You turned to look at him, suddenly aware of how close your faces were next to each other. You watched his gaze drop to your lips before flickering up to meet yours, “May I...?”

You nodded slightly, overcome by the adrenaline and fluttery feeling that was consuming you. You both leaned in, gently kissing each other, making sure you don’t put so much weight against him to avoid hurting his injury. Jungkook’s hand found your waist as he pulled you in, the other cupping your cheek. With your arms snaking around his neck, you both deepened the kiss.

Something in you snapped and made you pull away abruptly. “I-I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.” You quickly got up to take your belongings.

“W-Wait, what do you mean—“ Jungkook called after you, struggling to get up fast with his crutch.

“You’re just going to end whatever we’ll have if we try. We’re looking for different things remember?” You rubbed the nape of your neck, “L-Look, could we just pretend this didn’t happen? I don’t want anything to be awkward between us.”

“W-Wait but...” Jungkook sighed, noting how resolute you were with your suggestion. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks Jungkook... Anyway, I should probably go. Get well soon.” You shifted your bag on your shoulder and sent yourself out the door.

After that incident, your schedule you had planned went down the drain. Your brain was foggy and your focus out the window the entire night as you kept thinking about that kiss. How it felt and how happy you felt. But you also reminded yourself that Jungkook was not looking to settle and you didn’t want to put yourself through that. 

You just hoped things would be the same after that day.

—

I’m guessing the usual cafe? :) - jk

Where else would we go? - y/n

Maybe my place? - jk

Good try - y/n

Worth a shot - jk

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself every time you conversed with him. Your usual 2h slot with him would drag on if you didn’t have anything that day. It wouldn’t drag on because of questions, you two would just be talking and enjoying each other’s presence. Ever since you met his friends, you met him more outside your 2h slot with him. Though, it was always off-campus. 

The incident at his place was as if it didn’t even happen. As if it was just a wet dream of Jungkook. You were thankful he stuck to the agreement and acted as if nothing happened. However, a part of you felt that it was the wrong move. 

You look great today btw - jk

But that doesn’t mean you look bad on other days - jk

Just extra great today - jk

Feeling that familiar fluttery feeling in your heart, you chose to ignore the message, promptly closing your chat. You reminded yourself about their reputation with relationships, they weren’t into a serious commitment. You didn’t want to waste your own time either. For some reason you could feel someone staring at you and you could bet anyone 10 bucks that it was Jungkook. 

After that moment, class went by fast and it was finally time for lunch. “Y/n! Do you want to grab lunch sometime this week? I promised I’ll be treating.” Mingyu flashed a very charming smile that made you smile back automatically. Behind him was Sooyoung and Chan-mi approaching you. 

“You really don’t have to treat me, I’m just doing my job—“

“I insist, yn. I still owe you for carrying me on your back last semester for the other class.” He chuckled. “Come on, you pulled your own weight.” You shook your head with a laugh. You glanced at your two friends who were patiently waiting for you and possibly eagerly eavesdropping. Just as you were about to turn away, Jungkook’s group walked behind them.

You could’ve sworn that you made eye contact when you gave him a smile to which he coldly ignored, looking away and leaving the hall with his friends.

“We can go for lunch but you’re not treating me.”

Mingyu reached out to pat your shoulder, “We’ll see! I’ll get you again soon!” He winked at you and headed off. Your two giddy best friends reached out to pull you along with them. “Is that a date?”

“N-No it’s not!”

“Why are you stuttering?” Chan-mi teased, poking your sides. You took a few steps in front of them, turning around to face them as you walked backwards. “I swear it’s not a date. We’re just friends.”

“Alright, alright, now walk properly before you hurt yourself Miss-I-have-a-date-with-Mingyu.” Sooyoung turned you around by your shoulders. Just as she strongly whipped you around, your eyes met with Jungkook’s.

Your mouth opened to say hi but nothing happened when he once again, looked away, not acknowledging your presence. “Hey y/n!” Jimin happily greeted you, pulling you in for a hug. “Thanks for tutoring me yesterday.”

“No problem, just doing my job.” You grinned at him but your thoughts still on Jungkook ignoring you.

Jimin chuckled, ruffling your hair, “You’re cute when you’re humble. Anyway, see you around!” You said bye to the others, noting that Jungkook didn’t say a single word to you. It was as if you weren’t right in front of you and you felt offended.

“Did something happen between you and Jungkook?” 

“No, nothing happened.” You denied as the memory of the kiss flashed in your mind.

“Are you sure?” Chan-mi questioned and you sighed. “Sorry, can we not talk about him? Let’s just have lunch.”

You didn’t notice your two friends sharing a look before collectively agreeing to drop the topic.

—

“Hey.”

“You’re late.” You commented, staring at your screen as you continued your assignment. “Yea sorry, I was on a date with someone and it kinda over ran.”

Oh. A date with someone. “O-Oh, how did it go?”

“Pretty well.” Jungkook took a sit, taking out his laptop, ready to fire his questions. “That’s good!” you sounded happy for him. You weren’t sure if your eyes were just trying to make you feel better but it was as if Jungkook seemed disappointed with your reply, as if he was hoping for a different reaction. 

“Yea... Anyway, I don’t have much questions today so it should be a fast one. If you want, we could go get an early dinner?”

“I don’t think I can... I have quite a lot of things to do today.” 

“Oh... That’s cool.”

Moving on from the topic, you two went through the questions he had smoothly though there was something nagging at the back of your mind. Why was he so cold towards you that day? Why is he acting as if he wasn’t being such a dick towards you that day? 

“You good?”

“Hmm?” You glanced up to see genuine concerned eyes that made your heart flutter once again. “Y-Yea I’m good.”

“You sure? You seem quite out of it today. Are you unwell? Is something bothering you?”

You shook your head, getting frustrated. “Why were you ignoring me today in school?”

“W-What?” Jungkook pulled away, taken aback by your question. You sighed, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Jungkook shook his head, “I was just having a bad morning.”

“A bad morning.” You scoffed, “Right, so a bad morning would make you ignore my entire presence. I’ll take mental note of that.” Jungkook himself got annoyed, crossing his arms as he countered, “You didn’t seem to care about anyone else either when you were chatting up with Mingyu. Didn’t think my moody morning would even be noticed by you.”

You blinked a couple times, processing what he had just said. “W-What? I was just talking with him. Why are you even bringing this up?”

He didn’t answer this time, sighing as he packed his laptop in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Jungkook got up and so did you. “You can’t do this? Are you jealous or something?”

“What? Of course not.” Jungkook frustratedly ruffled his hair. Not wanting to cause a scene at the cafe, you took your own stuff, chuckling dryly to yourself. “Well, you need to sort out whatever shit’s going on with you. I’m not here to guess how you’re feeling.”

“You’re not here to guess?” Jungkook whisper-yelled. “You were the one who suggested to ignore what happened. I’m here trying to keep my shit together because of that.”

“Jungkook, look. Let’s not talk about it here. Can we just drop it please?” ”Whatever.”

You walked away, not looking back to see Jungkook’s regretful look on his face.

—

Jungkook didn’t contact you after that day and you didn’t want to contact him either. Jimin, on the other hand, was trying to find out what happened between the two of you. 

“He always shuts the conversation down the moment one of us brings you up.” 

You sighed, “Nothing serious happened.”

“If that’s true, you guys wouldn’t be ignoring each other like the plague again. I had to lie to him about where I am today.”

A part of you, admittedly, would want Jungkook to reach out to you to just come clean about snapping at you the other day. You couldn’t understand how he could go on a date and then get pissed that you were talking to Mingyu. 

“You shouldn’t have lied to him.”

“It’s nothing.” Jimin shook his head, “What really happened between you two?”

Defeated, you told Jimin what happened that day at the cafe. “You two are just plain stupid. That poor boy likes you. You like him. Case solved.”

“If that’s true, he wouldn’t have gone on a date right before meeting me.”

“Yes, I agree that part’s fucked up. He just sucks at admitting his feelings to himself. Don’t worry, I’ll sort him out for you.” Jimin draped his arms around your shoulder, “you can count on me to give him a good nagging.”

“Thanks Jimin but you don’t have to do that—“

“Jimin? Y/N?”

The two of you turned around, Jimin immediately retracting his arm when you saw Jungkook standing right behind you. “Oh Kook!”

“I thought you said you’re meeting your Tinder date.”

“R-Right about that—“

“No, forget it, it’s clear who’s your Tinder date. Enjoy.” Jungkook shut him down and walked pass the both of you. Jimin sighed, “Looks like it’s time for me to fix this mess.”

“I think he’ll beat you up if you go after him. I’ll talk to him. You’re right, we need to talk.” Jimin gave you an encouraging smile, patting your shoulders, “Good luck.”

You needed that.

You hurriedly followed after him, calling out to him to stop and wait for you. It wasn’t that hard to catch up to him with his injury as well. 

Jungkook looked hurt and cold, as if he was building up his wall against you. “We weren’t on a date. Jimin didn’t want to tell you that he’s meeting me because apparently you get pissed every time you hear my name. I swear.”

“You don’t need to explain anything—“

“Yea of course I don’t, because I should just leave it to you to make wild assumptions every time some shit happens. I don’t get it. One moment, I think you may like me and the next moment you’re out on a date with someone else. Just tell me what is it and we can stop having this misunderstanding.”

Jungkook ruffled his hair, looking around the campus. “Can we talk somewhere else? And not here in public?”

You gestured with your hands, asking him to lead the way. Jungkook led you to a more secluded area, not too far away from where you bumped into him. You both couldn’t take walking together without clearing things up. 

Jungkook didn’t waste any time, immediately diving straight into it. “I do like you. Hell, there’s nothing to even doubt especially after that night. I wanted to kiss you for so long. I never admitted that to myself until that very moment. But then you said you wanted to drop everything and I thought it was just in the heat of the moment for you so I agreed. I rather be friends than back to strangers.” Jungkook breathed, taking a short pause, “But then I see you with Mingyu, with Jimin, and I know these men are your type. The ones that settle down with the right partner. The ones that don’t go on many dates. But that’s been me. So i figured you regretted it when you said that i didn’t want the same things you wanted. But fuck, i want to settle down with you. Take things slow, see where the future takes us. Three sessions with you was over the top for my studies but I did it because I love our time together. I love studying with you, going off topic and talking about other things. I love teasing you just to see your reaction because it makes me smile. I love it when you tease me back just to annoy me. You annoy me but I love it.” He sighed, looking at the floor before meeting your watery eyes.

“But I know I’m not the type of guy you’re looking for. You made it clear yourself that night when you asked to drop it. So there. That’s why I went on that date before meeting you. Because I was so nervous about seeing your face, I needed to get my mind off of you. I admit, I’m sorry for doing that because that just further proves your point about me.” He trailed off, as the realization sinks in of how he had just fucked up his own chances of being with you.

You didn’t bother interrupting him at all, your heart pounding loudly against your chest as you took in every single word he said. Your brain and heart having a civil war with each other. Not knowing what should your next move be. 

“I’m guessing silence means I’m right.” He spoke after receiving no response from you. “I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself.” He gave a pained smile as he headed off back to his place.

Your knees felt weak as you leaned back against the wall that was hiding the both of you from the others. Your hand brought up to your heart. 

What were you going to do?

With a heavy heart, you made your way back to your place. As you settled your dinner, you aimlessly browsed through the shows on Netflix as Your mind was busy thinking about Jungkook’s confession. 

Why didn’t you go after him? Why didn’t you say anything? Were you scared that it was all words? Were you scared of ruining the friendship you two had established? What was stopping you from doing what you wanted?

You knew you couldn’t leave things there. You had to do something before you regret. You liked Jungkook. A lot. You were willing to take the risk with him. Just as he was as willing to prove to you that he’s serious. 

You reached out for your phone and key, making your way out the door and to where you needed to be.

Once you had arrived, you were knocking on the door profusely, “Jungkook!” You called out.

The door opened, “W-What are you doing here—“

“I like you too. You’re wrong. I don’t regret that night. I regret saying that we should forget about it. Because i couldn’t. I didn’t. I thought about it everyday. I’m willing to take things slow with you if you’re willing. I don’t want to regret this as well.”

The smile on his face grew as you admitted your own feelings to him, Jungkook pulling you in with his free hand as the other still held on to his clutch.

“I mean it as well. I have zero intentions to play around with you. I’m serious and I’ll prove it. I’m not going to lose you, you’re not cheap sunglasses to me.”

“I trust you.” You said with a laugh, recalling his metaphor as his grin only grew wider. “You just made me a really happy man.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell with that wide grin on your face.”

“You’re annoying.” Jungkook said with no malice in his tone as he leaned in for a kiss. Both of you had been wanting to do that again ever since that incident. Your leg kicking the door shut as you pulled yourself closer to him. 

“I could get used to this.” You smiled as you pulled away. 

“Well, you should. I’m going to be kissing you for a long time.”

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

[ohnopoe]

Personal Hero | Marcus Moreno

Ship: Marcus Moreno x Reader Summary: When work is getting you down, you don’t need Marcus Moreno, the superhero, you need Marcus Moreno, your personal hero. Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Some self deprecating thoughts (not many, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry) & food mentions Author’s Note: This is incredibly late, but for @meshlamando​​! I’m so sorry it took so damn long, I hope it has at least a little comfort in there for you! One day I'll learn the right compromise between hurt & comfort... I don't think I got there today...

The shrill ringing of your mobile cut through your office, sending thoughts flying in every which way at the sudden sound. Irritation bubbled away steadily as you put the damn thing on silent without so much as a glance at the caller ID.

Reports had been thrown in your direction from the moment you had arrived, a never ending list of time restraints and deadlines that seemed to be constantly encroaching on your mental stability, and, quite simply, you didn’t have the time for anything else that could be added to your to do list.

So, the call was quickly pushed from your mind in favour of, was that an accounting report? How had that become your responsibility?

Any thoughts of having your lunch break were dismissed, a luxury you just didn’t have time for as the pile seemed to grow before your very eyes. A fresh cup of coffee, that was all you had time for, and even that gained judgemental glances from your boss as you rushed back from the small kitchenette. But it was a break, of sorts. A few minutes to remind yourself that there actually was something outside of black ink on white paper and luminescent screens that were determined to give you a migraine.

But, as you made your way back to your chair, your phone began to vibrate in your pocket, demanding your attention once more. A quick glance, you could get away with that, surely.

A soft smile seemed to find its home on your lips in an instant as the name Marcus Moreno popped up with a ridiculous picture you’d taken of him some months earlier. But, as your gaze quickly met the disapproving  glare of your boss, you knew you couldn’t answer, even if it technically was still your lunch break.

Placing the phone down with a sigh, and more than a smidgen of guilt, you watched as it rang out, fading into a notification. Two missed calls, both from Marcus.

Well, if you hadn’t felt bad moments ago, you certainly did now.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your failings when yet another manilla folder found its way into your inbox; the sticky note on top demanding it be finished before start of day tomorrow.

The hum of vibrations drew your attention from the email you had been writing, dragging over the surprisingly empty office to where your mobile danced across the corner of your desk, each vibration bringing it ever closer to the edge. A quick glance around to confirm you really were alone, another to check the time, realising just why you were so alone, and you were reaching for the device eagerly.

It didn’t matter that you still had hours of work ahead of you, or that your coworkers were all too happy to go home on time and leave you to deal with their messes alone. It didn’t matter that your stomach had been grumbling for hours now, or that your eyes felt so dry that the tears that threatened to break through at the thought of your situation would actually be a welcome relief. It only mattered that, for some miraculous reason, he was calling again, and this time you could finally answer, finally hear his voice and get a few minutes of reprieve from the insanity of your day.

“Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier, works been crazy,” the words came out in a mess, one falling into another as your exhaustion made itself known quite clearly.

“As long as you’re ok,” it would have been impossible to miss the concern in Marcus’ tone, even through your receiver and weary state of being. A small smile played at the corners of your lips, his words a gentle reminder of just how lucky you were, at least, when it came to your personal life.

“I’ll be just fine,” you offered with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a yawn.

“You should come home,” Marcus offered with a soft chuckle, his voice warm and enticing, relaxing you far more than it ought to do.

A chuckle of your own escaped at the suggestion, shaking your head to yourself in the emptiness of your office. “Not likely to happen any time soon, I’m afraid. I’ve got at least a few more hours of stuff left to do.”

“As your boss, I’m telling you, come home, it’s after six, you need rest. I’ll order pizza, Missy’s at a friends, we can have a lazy evening on the couch…”

Damn that sounded enticing, but as you spun around in your chair, the sight of your to do list practically mocked you, silently reminding you of the deadlines you had been given.

It didn’t matter that Marcus was now the head of the whole damn Heroics organisation, your department head would never let you get away with leaving things unfinished, and she’d already made it quite clear what she thought of your relationship with the boss.

A heavy sigh, filled with exhaustion and wariness was the only answer you could give. You didn’t want to disappoint him, of course not. This was Marcus Moreno, for goodness sake, the man deserved nothing but the best, but there wasn’t much you could do. This was your job, and, as much as you loved him, as much as you wanted to be all the things he deserved, you simply couldn’t be that all the time.

“I’m sorry,” there was a weight to your words that went beyond simply coming home late.

It seemed, no matter what you did, you were disappointing someone of late. You weren’t working hard enough, you weren’t home enough, you hadn’t brought coffees for the entire department (when had that even become a thing?). No matter where you looked, it felt as though you were competing with something, something you couldn’t see, something you never had a chance of surpassing. People’s expectations.

There was a pause on the line, a silence that only solidified your guilt. Marcus was too nice to call you out on your absence of late, too sweet to remind you that you hadn’t had a date night in weeks now, but his silence reminded you all on its own.

It weighed heavily on you, as if it had been sitting in the shadows, slowly growing in the dark recesses of your mind without your knowledge, growing until it became the insurmountable mass that sat on your shoulders now.

Late nights, no time to relax, no time to recover, it all came together, wearing at you in a silent tundra of exhaustion.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” It was said softly, but there was a determination behind his words, a tone you heard so rarely, but one that you knew nonetheless. It was the same voice he’d use to reprimand a heroic who went too far or didn’t listen, the same tone he used when Missy had been caught sneaking out one night to go explore an abandoned skatepark with friends. There was no debating this, no need for a discussion. This was simply a fact, one Marcus was determined you would accept.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Just because Marcus believed something wholeheartedly, it didn’t make it so for you. He believed in the best of people, always tried to see the positive in things, and was, quite simply, one of the best people you had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

So, when he said something with such conviction, it was hard to disagree, hard to say no to, no matter how you felt.

A half hearted ‘hmm’ was all you could offer in response, neither agreeing nor fighting him on the matter, and resulting in an inaudible sigh from the other side of the line.

The silence that sat between you lingered on, acting like a vast gap that seemed to stretch on and on, only further dragging you into that endless aching. It hurt to be apart, to deny what you both wanted for what had to be done, but it hurt to disappoint him even more.

There was a reluctance in his tone as he spoke up once more, softly, uncertainly. “I should let you get back to it then,” the words came across forlorn, as if the certainty he had felt when dispelling your apology had faded into something sadder, something deeper, and it twinged at your heart.

You nodded in silent response, your tired mind only reminding you he couldn’t see you moments too late. “Yeah, I should try and get back to this,” you agreed, even if it sounded anything but enthusiastic. “I’ll see you when I get home,” you began, glancing over at just how ridiculous the pile still was… god only knew when you might actually get out of there. “Don’t wait up.”

Time was inching onwards, drawn out and slow moving, almost taunting you. You wanted to be getting through your work, wanted to at least feel productive, but no matter how long you pushed your way forwards, it felt like no headway was really being made. An hour had passed since you had spoken to Marcus, but it felt so much longer, especially with only one file being completed since then.

Worst of all, you truly were focused. It wasn’t as if your mind had been distracted, even if it had tried very hard to fill your thoughts with reminders of failures at every turn. You were working, and working hard, your attention only given to the work at hand, and it still didn’t seem to be enough.

You were so focused, in fact, that you didn’t even hear the doors opening, or the sounds of footsteps coming ever closer. You didn’t hear the half amused, half exasperated huff of laughter that came from the man who was making his way towards you, you didn’t even notice when his shadow danced over the paperwork before you, pulling figures away from the light as he stared down at you with an unreadable expression on his features.

No, it wasn’t until a large box landed on your notes, causing you to jump with a yelp, that you even noticed you were no longer alone.

Laughter came easier now, richer, softer, and actually noticed by you as you spun around in shock to take in the sight of one Marcus Moreno, long since changed into his casual attire, standing beside your desk, watching you with that fond smile you’d often catch from across the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked as you attempted to calm your racing heart. It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, no, but somehow it seemed easier, lighter even.

“I just got here,” he spoke with that same gentleness he always seemed to have when it was just you two.

Guilt played at the edges of your thoughts, trying to tempt you forwards into those haunting thoughts and regrets, reminders that he had to come back to work to see you, to spend time with you, when you’d only just moved in with him about a month beforehand. It shouldn’t have been this hard, you shouldn’t have been forced to be so distant, he deserved better.

But as much as the guilt and anguish tried to take over your mind, it had no real chance, not when that dimple was showing, not when you could breathe in his smell. No, Marcus Moreno was like a warden, keeping the negative thoughts at bay, as if they couldn’t bare to even try to cross him, as if they simply didn’t belong in the same room as him.

He was a hero, everyone knew that, hell, he was the leader of the heroics, but it was this, his very own superpower, far more special than his control over metal, that made him a hero to you. He held a power unlike any other, the power to let you breathe.

Even with exhaustion playing at your mind, even with the insurmountable piles of work still ahead of you, he could calm you with just his presence, and you would never cease to be in awe of that.

“Break time?” he raised his brows in question, pointing towards the box which had both given you such a startle, and been entirely ignored since his arrival.

You hadn’t even bothered to really look at it, so used to things being thrown on your desk throughout the day that seeing whatever offending item could have been added to your pile hadn’t even been a consideration. But now, with the embarrassment beginning to ease, and the delicious smells wafting in your direction, you could finally acknowledge the large pizza box that demanded your attention away from your papers.

“Marcus I-”

“No, you’re taking a break,” he shook his head as he interrupted what was no doubt about to be a slew of sad excuses for why you didn’t have time for this. “You’ve been working your butt off all day, it’s dinner time for goodness sake. We’re going to sit down, have some pizza, talk about something that’s not work related, and then, if you really want to finish whatever you have to do, well, we’ll do that together.”

There it was again, that tone that left no room for argument.

You didn’t want to bring this into your personal life, you wanted to shelter him from the crap your work often brought about, but how could you when he was right there, offering to help you through it?

“This is hardly the kind of work the leader of the Heroics should be bothering with,” you tried to laugh it off, gesturing to the reports and receipts that were littering your table with a wonky smile, but even that faded away as those deep eyes stole your attention as they often did.

It wasn’t sympathy or empathy, wasn’t anger nor irritation, in fact, none of the emotions you expected to see swam in that chocolate gaze. No, it was simply acceptance.

Pulling a chair from the next desk over, he plopped down with none of the finesse your colleagues were used to seeing in the news reports. No, this was a side reserved for you and Missy alone. The side that was clumsy and awkward. The side that had brought you flowers he saw on the side of the road when coming to pick you up for a date, not knowing it was actually a weed. The side that had managed to fall off the couch, not once, but twice during movie night early into your relationship.

This wasn’t Marcus Moreno, leader of the heroics. This was Marcus Moreno, your boyfriend, a term you had grown to increasingly love even with the juvenility of it.

This was your personal hero, the man who turned up at your desk when you had to work late to make sure you ate, took a break, and weren’t overworking yourself.

“Babe, I don’t know what you think I do every day, but I’m more than used to dealing with boring reports,” and somehow his words came far easier than yours, pulling the corners of your lips into something akin to an actual smile.

It was far too easy to smile around him, and he took far too much joy in dragging a smile onto your features as often as possible.

“But, that’s an after dinner problem. As is the fact your boss isn’t the one staying back late to deal with her own issues,” he huffed slightly, before shaking his head as if the action would literally shake the thoughts from his mind. “For now, we eat like- Do you think kings would eat pizza?”

And just like that, being stuck at work for the evening didn’t feel quite so bad. Nothing really could, not when you had that ridiculous man staring at you curiously as he shoved far too much pizza into his mouth at once, pondering a question that would make a toddler proud.

No. This wasn’t bad at all.

[buckys-black-dress]

a fine line, part two

a/n: here she is, our promised part two of afl!!! honestly i love writing this series and it has almost all my fav things in one fic, so yup. anyways, again, thank you for reading/sharing/liking my work !! luv u all, x -ali

wc: 5.8k !!!

-

The tension in the room was palpable.

And although no one knew you two were working together by verbal confirmation, it was clear from the way you were both reacting.

Bucky was rarely this quiet, so it was obvious what was going on.

Also the fact that you seemed frozen in place.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” Wanda’s soft voice filtered in next to you.

You nodded, trying to break away from James’ gaze.

“Mhm, who’re you working with?” You ask, moving away from the topic at hand.

“Oh, you know Professor Vision? He teaches Comp Sci.” Wanda is now visibly blushing, making you curious.

“Ooh, does Wanda have a crush?” Natasha chimes in as she sidles up next to you two. “I got Banner. How about you, Y/N?”

“I uhh, I got... Barnes.” You mumble under your breath.

“Who? I didn’t catch what you said there.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I... I got Dr. Barnes.” You said, not even daring to look up at your friends.

“...Oh. Well, that should be... interesting...” Wanda comments.

“...Yeah. It’ll probably be fine!” Natasha tries to comfort you, but there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach that almost makes you feel sick.

“He said there was no way to change it... right?” You ask feebly, trying to hold out hope.

“No... and I wouldn’t want to go head to head with Fury.” Wanda frowns.

“Great.” You conclude, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I can do this. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” You tell the girls, gathering your things and filing out of the office as people began to leave.

Wanda and Natasha were left watching your retreating form, staring at each other.

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the end of next week.” Natasha says, earning a shove in her arm from Wanda.

Bucky watched you leave the office, and the gears were most definitely turning in his head.

-

You spent the rest of the week keeping mostly to yourself, trying to mentally prepare for what you’d have to face next week.

In the email sent out by Fury, he explained that you and your partner should have a lesson outlined prior to Monday so you could get right into teaching. He also explained that you would have to share all of your classes, and somehow correlate the two subjects that each professor taught.

English and History, seems easy, right?

Wrong.

Every idea you’ve emailed James has been shot down, and your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t like being unprepared, and the week would be coming to a close soon.

So naturally, you did what anyone else would do, and knocked on James’ office door until he answered.

“I’m comin’ jeez, would ya hold on?” You hear his voice, muffled by the door, until he swings it open, coming face to face with you. “What do you need, Y/L/N?”

“Oh, lovely to see you too, Dr. Barnes. I just wanted to know if you were actually interested in making our lesson plan. If we’re going to be spending the next few weeks together, we might as well have a plan. And I thought your input might be better, since you’re clearly not a fan of what I’ve shown you so far.” You rambled, moving to stand in the middle of his office, laptop in hand.

“You know, maybe if you sent anything good, I would’ve worked with ya on it. But I just don’t think your style of teaching fits me. It’s too... too intimate. You’re too far up your students’ asses. You get too close, too personal with them.” James explains to you.

You can only scoff at this.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, James, but my students and I have great relationships. If my students don’t like me, or what I teach, they’ll be more inclined to hand in subpar work. But if I make my expectations clear from the start, they’ll know what they have to do to earn an A in my class. That’s why my first two semesters here have been averaging with A’s all across the board.” You explain as simply as you can, because you felt like James was ridiculing you and the way you teach. You worked hard to get where you are today, and you know that’s why your students love coming to class.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds, trying to process the information you dropped on him.

“So... your students... like you?” He asks, tentatively, almost.

“...Yes? I know you don’t like me, so it might hard to believe that others do, but I don’t think I’m that unappealing.” You scoff, looking at the floor to avoid Bucky’s eyes. “Anyways, do you have any ideas?”

Bucky’s chest tightened with guilt. After the incident at the bar, he was trying to not be as rude to you. He was trying to be more humane, in Steve’s words.

“I... Maybe we can take a look at some of the stuff you sent before. Maybe if you explain it to me face-to-face I’ll understand it better.” Bucky says, and you nod. “Take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while.”

As a few hours passed, you and James actually started a pretty solid outline for lessons. You started working on your first lesson, which would be the origins of literature. You could both talk about it, and you could both bring different aspects to the table.

“On average, how many kids do you have in your classes, Y/N?” James asks you, and your head snaps up at the mention of your first name. You had a moment where you imagine him calling you that way more often, making your throat run dry.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, “my biggest class is about thirty students, maximum.” You tell him.

“Really? My smallest is forty...” He tells you, scratching his chin. “Also very male dominated, I’ve noticed.”

You freeze, trying to process this. It’s only ten more kids... you’ll be fine, right?

“You alright, there, Y/L/N?” James chuckles, to which you let out a weak one. You weren’t used to large crowds, they made you anxious, nervous, like you were losing your footing.

“I-I’m fine. Yeah, all good, let’s get back to work.” You tell him, focusing back on your lesson plan.

“It’s uh, getting a bit late. Thinking we should head home soon.” James looks at you a bit longer, trying to gauge your mood.

“Uh- oh, what time is it?” You ask, squinting and cursing yourself for leaving your glasses in your office.

“It’s almost 7:30...” He tells you.

“Oh, I have to go! Lucy, she’s been all alone, I have to feed her!” In a panic, you begin gathering your belongings.

“Lu- Who’s Lucy?” James asks in clear confusion at your sudden panic.

“My cat! Oh, poor baby, she’s probably wondering where I’ve been...” You trail off, making sure you’ve gathered everything you need.

“W-wait, can I get your number?” James asks, and you both freeze.

“M-my number?” You ask, not bothering to hide your shock.

“Well, we’re gonna need to discuss the lesson plan somehow...” He tells you.

“Oh... well, here...” You pull off a post-it note from the pad on his desk and quickly scribble down your number, handing it to him. “I’m not usually on my phone too much, so if I don’t answer within a few hours, try shooting me an email.” You explain, making your way out the door.

“Have a good night, James.” He hears you say quietly before you turn away from the doorframe, and he hears the resonating shutting of your office door not even five minutes later.

Bucky sits in his chair, not having moved an inch from when you left. He stares at the blue post-it with your number scribbled on it.

He picked it up, inspecting it further.

Your handwriting was neat, but flourishing and borderline cursive because of how quickly you wrote.

Bucky pulls out his phone and inputs the number, saving your contact.

Y/N Y/L/N

He then types out a message:

Just wanted to text you so I wouldn’t lose your number. Hope Lucy is okay.

And he hits send, deciding to pack up his things, trying to understand why he chose to include your cat in his message.

And on your end when you check your phone after parking in your apartment building’s parking, you see a message from an unknown number. You choose to not answer until you’ve made it into your apartment and feed Lucy.

You open your messages, staring at it. Something in your chest fluttered, but you pass it off as your hunger, waiting for your dinner to warm up in the oven.

Hi James. Lucy is fine, thanks for worrying. Have a good night.

You send it off, saving his contact but choosing to not look at your phone until after you’ve finished everything that you needed to do.

After finishing some grading, doing the dishes, and adding to the lesson plan, you decide to settle into bed with a book. You check your phone while brushing your teeth.

James Barnes: Good to hear. Do you think we could work on the lesson plan over lunch tomorrow? Just so we can get ahead of the game.

Y/N Y/L/N: Sounds good. Are we still going to also meet up after classes?

It takes a few minutes before your phone dings again.

James Barnes: Yep. Do you want to just come by my place after? Kind of getting stir-crazy in my office. We could also order food.

You stare at your phone. Are you going crazy? Why is he being so... kind?

Before you could even respond, another ping pulls you back out of your thoughts.

James Barnes: You could also bring Lucy with you, if you don’t want to leave her alone at home for too long.

Okay, now you were sure you were going insane. He was being way too nice. Where was this attitude a year ago, when you’d first met him?

But then again, it wouldn’t hurt, right? You were trying to get out of your comfort zone...

Y/N Y/L/N: Sure, that’s good. Are you sure it would be okay if I brought Lucy? I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal space.

His reply was almost instant.

James Barnes: No, I don’t mind at all. Alpine would love the company.

Before you could even wonder who Alpine was, you remember your previous conversation with Steve once.

‘Bucky also has a cat...’

Y/N Y/L/N: Okay, then I’ll be there. You also have a cat?

James Barnes: Oh, yeah. He’s the sweetest. *1 Attachment.*

Opening the image, you see a fluffy, stark white cat. He had big eyes that anyone would swoon over. You look at the foot of your bed where Lucy is curled up into a ball, fast asleep. You carefully snap a picture, smiling at her.

Y/N Y/L/N: I’ll admit, he’s cute. But can he compete with her? *1 Attachment*

You smile, seeing the typing bubble, waiting for him to respond.

James Barnes: Doll, no one can compete with Al. But I can’t deny, Lucy’s a gem.

Reading over the message at least seven times, your eyes keep lingering over the first word. Doll. It was in a loop in your head, the only thought you were having was that one word.

Why did he call me that? Is he flirting with me? No... he doesn’t even like me! But then why would he be talking to me right now? And why would he send me a picture of his cat...

And now your hands were working faster than your brain, typing out a quick response with your stomach doing backflips.

Y/N Y/L/N: Alright, whatever you say, Bucky. I’m heading to bed, good night.

And you don’t wait for a response before shutting off your phone and plugging it in, putting it on do not disturb and abandoning it on your nightstand, flipping open your book. You were trying to clear your thoughts but miserably failing.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky responded with a wide smile at the sight of you using his nickname.

James Barnes: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

That night, Bucky fell asleep with Alpine on the pillow next to him, but a wide smile on his face and his stomach full of butterflies.

Little did he know, so were you.

-

The next day, you woke up feeling like a brand new woman. You got a decent amount of sleep. You got out of bed and made coffee before you left the house. You arrived to school way earlier than usual.

To be honest, you didn’t know what was going on.

James was being nice. To you. Why the sudden change of heart? Or maybe he was going back to acting like an asshole when he sees you in person. You didn’t really know what to expect.

Honestly, what you expected the least was for a knock to be heard on your door, 15 minutes before your first class of the day.

“Come in!” You say, expecting a student or maybe Natasha or Wanda.

But the door swings open, and there’s James. He’s standing there with two paper bags, undoubtedly from the bakery down the street.

“Hi.” He says. Not offering anything. No explanation, no emotion. No indication of our conversation last night.

“Hi. Did you need something?” You ask, and for once, it wasn’t in a dismissive or cold tone.

“Uh, no. Just wondering if you’ve eaten anything yet today?” James asks, holding up the bags in his hand.

“Uhm... no...” You tell him, not understanding why he was asking.

“Oh, well I have an extra croissant, if you’d like.” He holds up the bags once again.

“Sure, you can sit in here to eat if you’d like...” You offer, not sure of the water you were treading in.

“Oh, thanks.” He sits down and you both pull out the pastries and start eating. “So, how’s Lucy today?” James asks, a slight smirk on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not.

“Uh, she-she’s good. Clingy as usual. How’s Alpine?” You return the question.

“Same for him, also clings to me like a koala when I leave, I always feel bad, but I don’t really have a choice.” You both giggle at the remark, nodding in agreement.

“I understand. Lucy’s still a kitten too, so she’s been getting attached a lot. But I think I need her just as bad as she needs me.” You tell him, and you don’t know why.

“Oh... no boyfriend?” James asks, and now you really can’t tell if he’s pulling your leg.

“Oh-” You giggle, covering your mouth. “That’s funny. No, no boyfriend.” You continue to laugh until you fall back into silence, and James is just watching you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, genuinely perplexed at your reaction.

“James, I don’t think either of us are idiots. I don’t think I come off as girlfriend material to most guys.” You laugh again.

It became quiet, and you look back to your computer, ready to end this awkward conversation. You knew you had your insecurities, but it had always been hard for you to put yourself out there. Especially for guys. Your anxiety and introverted nature really put a pause on your already non-existent dating life.

Besides, you’ve always been alone. And you didn’t think that would be changing any time soon.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head out. I have a class to prepare for. See you tonight?” James asks, getting up from his seat across from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you then. Could you text me your address and what time I should be there?” You ask, also gathering your lecture notes and laptop.

“Sure thing, Y/N. Bye.” He waves, leaving. As soon as he steps out, you hear the clicking of heels against the laminate flooring.

“Why was Bucky in here?” Natasha’s gravelly voice asks, looking confused as ever.

“He just brought me a croissant, we were talking about our lesson plan for next week.” You explain to her. “Walk with me to my lecture?” You ask, pointing out the door.

“Sure,” she agrees, waiting for you to lock the door, “so, have things been... civil between you two?” Natasha asks tentatively.

“Actually, yes. He’s not all that bad. I’m going to his place after classes to work on the lesson plan, he asked me yesterday to even bring Lucy over so she could meet Alpine.” You tell her.

“Oh- wow, really? He’s being so... nice to you...” She responds.

“I-I know... I don’t understand why... He made it clear he doesn’t really enjoy my company.” You respond.

“Yeah... Well, this is new. I hope he keeps up with it.” She pats you on the shoulder as you reach the lecture hall.

“Yeah, me too.” You say, turning to her before going in.

“Hey, can I stop by your office for something at lunch?”

“Sure, see you then!” You tell her, setting up for your class.

-

Lunch time comes around, and Natasha was already waiting for you when you finished your class by lunchtime. You remembered James also asking to come by to eat with you and work, so you tried to make it quick with Natasha.

“So, you and Bruce already finished your lesson plans?” You ask, looking for a booklet she needed.

“Yeah, he’s fun to work with. Kinda a nerd, but he knows his shit.” She says, smiling and leaning against your desk. “Any reason you’re in a rush?” She asks, catching you off guard.

“Oh, uh, James is coming to eat here so we can get ahead on the lesson.” You tell her, looking back through your drawer.

“That’s... interesting.” Natasha’s brows were drawn together. “You two seem to have a lot of time allotted together.”

“Well, we have only a little of our lessons done, and we really don’t want to show up unprepared. You know how much I hate that.” You tell her, finally finding what she needed.

Outside your office, James was just about to walk in when he heard your voices.

“Yeah... Just wondering, did he ever... apologize for what he said that one night?” Nat asks.

“Uhm, n-no. He’s been really kind to be as of late, so I’m assuming we’re turning a new leaf... But he makes me... nervous sometimes. Just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even look at my lesson plan ideas. He looked like he would rather violently bash his skull in than work with me. I’m just- I’m confused. What made him change his mind?” You think out loud, really wondering if James’ behavior was genuine.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I think you should give him a chance. Don’t be so weary. If he’s being nice, don’t question it. I don’t know why he was like that with you from the beginning, but you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over the fact that he’s actually treating you with respect.” Natasha puts her hand over yours, meeting your gaze.

“Y-Yeah. I know. I know I deserve respect, but it’s been hard lately. Ever since my family stopped talking to me, I feel like a failure. They don’t understand that I deserve that respect either. They think teaching is a shit job, they think I won’t get anywhere in life with it. I’m just sick and tired of them acting like I didn’t work hard to get where I am today.”

I talked to my brother the other day, and he said the same thing they’ve been saying since I started my PhD. ‘You’re not gonna get anywhere with this, you should get a boyfriend, we want grandkids.’ Like, okay! I get it! But where the hell am I supposed to find a guy when the cute one doesn’t even like me!? And my last boyfriend was in my undergrad. I feel a like teenager. I have literally no romantic life.” You huff out, absolutely tired of this.

“I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. You deserve a family that’s supportive of you and your passions. I hope Wanda and Carol and I have maybe helped you, kind of like a work family, y’know?” She holds your hand tighter. “We’ll always be here for you.”

You smile, walking around your desk to hug her.

“Thank you, Nat. I appreciate you all so much. I don’t think you’ll ever really know.” You hug her tightly before letting go. “James should be here any minute now, but we’ll talk more after class?”

“You betcha, but don’t think I forgot what you said... Maybe he does like you.” She says, and your face turns beet red.

“Natasha, no. I think he’s made it very clear he’s not into me. Like, at all. I’m surprised we’re even working together. I didn’t think he would cooperate.” You laugh. “Okay, seriously, you gotta go. I don’t want him to walk in on us talking about him.”

“Okay, okay, talk later. Bye, Y/N.” She says, making her way out, and Bucky pushes himself against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t see him.

“Don’t forget what we talked about, yeah?” She says to him, not even looking back. Natasha only stops when she doesn’t hear his response, turning around. “Listen to me, Bucky. We may be friends, but so are Y/N and I. I don’t know if it was me or Steve who finally knocked some sense into the dumb head of yours, but if she comes to me again, crying, telling me she can’t take it from you anymore, I promise; you’ll be off this faculty faster than you can say ‘tenure.’ Now, am I understood, Barnes?” Natasha concludes, completely in Bucky’s personal space.

“I- yes. I understand.” He gulps, looking down at his hands. “I-I’ve been trying. To be nice to her. I know what I did before was wrong, but I’m trying, okay? Steve and I had a... a long talk.”

“Yeah, whatever. This better not just be a one-time-thing. From here on out, I want no complaints from her. She’s been through enough shit, and she doesn’t need any more from you. I have somewhere to be, and so do you.” Natasha says, parting ways and letting Bucky release a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

He composes himself one last time, and walks into your office.

“Hi, James.” You give him a soft smile, “Take a seat, we’ve got work to do.”

-

When your last lecture finished, you made your way home to get what you needed to head to James’ apartment. He’d texted you the address and told you you could come by any time after 6:30.

You were thinking back on your lunch break with him. He was quiet, almost nervous to be sitting in front of you, and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why.

It was uncharacteristic of him to be so demure, and you wonder why he was suddenly so shy. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a remark, or take a jab at you. But now, he was quiet as a mouse.

It was concerning, to say the least.

So, on your way to his apartment, which was a solid 15 minutes drive, you call Natasha for advice.

“Hey. Can I talk to you about something?” You ask while you drive.

“Yeah, everything alright?” Natasha’s voice filters through your car’s speakers.

“Oh, I’m fine, but did something happen with James? He was acting so... odd today... He was so quiet, so nice. His behavior has been so different lately.” Your brows were furrowed, genuinely trying to crack this puzzle.

“Uh... well, isn’t it a good thing?” She asks.

“I mean, yes, but did someone say something to him?” You ask, puzzled.

“Uh, no...” lie, “maybe he’s just turning over a new leaf, Y/N. I think you should stop worrying yourself over it so much. And if you really want answers, just confront him about it.” Natasha concludes.

“...Okay. You’re right. I think I’m just reading too much into this. I need to go, I’m almost there. Thanks, Nat.” You tell her.

“Bye, Y/N. Good luck.” And the line goes dead.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now, Luce.” You look over at her carrier in the seat next to yours, where she’s curled up into a ball inside.

-

Once you park and text James to let him know you’re on your way up, you sling your laptop bag over your shoulder and grab Lucy’s carrier.

As you make your way inside, you stop at the concierge desk, where an older man with grey hair and glasses greets you. His name tag reads Stan.

“Hi, I’m here to see James Barnes?” You tell him, looking at the grandiosity of the lobby.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks, and you nod. “He said he was expecting you. Not that I don’t trust you, but I just need a form of ID before I can let you up.” You nod again, handing over you driver’s license.

He hands it back, giving an approving nod.

“Elevators are to the right, he’s in 12B.” Stan tells him, and you give him appreciative ‘thank you’ before you scurry to the elevator.

When you knock on his door, it takes a second for him to open it, a faint ‘Al, one second!’ resonating through the door, making you snort out a laugh.

“Hey, sorry about that. Come in,” Bucky finally appears, swinging his door wide open.

You walk in, setting down Lucy and taking your shoes off.

“So, is Alpine friendly with other cats?” You ask, weary of unzipping the carrier.

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” He asks, but stops when he sees your expression fall.

“S-Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything, It’s just- Lucy’s a bit shy, but she typically likes other cats.” You say, looking down at her.

“I-I’m sorry- that was rude. I wasn’t trying to sound like an ass, I swear. Alpine’s friendly with other cats, but he needs a little time to warm up to other people. Don’t take it personally if he isn’t too fond of you at first.” He laughs, directing you to his couch where Alpine was perched.

“Oh, hi baby!” You coo, holding out your hand to Alpine. He tentatively inspects you with his eyes, first, and then sniffs you. He then, his head buts against your hand, asking for affection.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, shocked at how friendly Alpine was being. He barely even looked at Steve and Sam when they come by. But here he was, purring and shoving himself against you.

“Well, I think Lucy won’t have a problem with him at all.” You smile, bringing the carrier over to the end of the couch and unzipping it, letting Lucy move at her own pace.

At first, she just wearily looks at Alpine and the unfamiliar setting. She then looks at you, where you encouragingly coo at her, making sure she was comfortable.

Bucky gazes at the whole scene with a soft look, watching as Lucy slowly saunters out of the carrier, sniffing Alpine and the couch. Soon enough, Alpine sniffs back, and they start playing with each other, forgetting their owners completely.

You both laugh at how well they were getting along, and the contrast between the black and white furs making it that much better.

“Well, should we get started?” You ask, finally turning to Bucky with a big smile.

In that moment, his throat goes dry, and all he can think is... She has a beautiful smile.

“James? Everything alright?” You ask, breaking him out of his trance.

“I- Yes! Sorry, got distracted for a minute... Would you prefer Italian or Chinese for dinner?” He asks, shaking his head and trying to change the subject.

“Uhm, I don’t mind, whatever you’d like.” You smile, grabbing your laptop.

“So... Italian, then?” He asks with a light laugh.

“Sure.” You answer. “Where can we sit to work?”

“Oh, the table’s fine, we can eat while we work, too. Let me go order really quick.” He excuses himself after pointing to his dining table, and heading into the kitchen.

When Bucky reaches the kitchen, he takes a second to compose himself. He pinches in between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t know why he was acting like a teenager, he felt himself get flustered around you.

After he pulls himself together, he orders the food and comes back outside, finding you focused on something extremely intently on your screen.

“James, what do you think for something like this for a more interactive activity?” You ask, turning your computer to him, waiting for him to read the plan, biting your lip nervously.

“This- this is awesome, doll. This looks really good, the students would love this.” He tells you, reading over it one more time.

“O-Oh, thanks.” You thank him shyly, stomach fluttering while looking down at your lap again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, breaking the silence.

“Oh, the food-” James moves to grab his wallet, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“James, you’ve already been so hospitable, let me get it-” You say, but he shakes off your hand and shakes his head.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I insist,” he responds, beating you to the door and handing the delivery man his card, letting him ring it up quickly.

You huff, sitting back down in your spot with a pout.

“James, you suck,” you huff, visibly annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did. Now, let’s eat. You good with red wine?” He asks, pulling out two wine glasses.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, unpacking the food as he pours some wine.

As he sets down some plates, he sees your expression still pouty, like a child.

“Y/N, stop pouting.” You look so cute. “You can get it next time.” I wish I could kiss you.

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You ask, your face turning red yet again.

“I mean, we’re going to have to make more lesson plans, depending on how long Fury keeps this up.” He laughs, but you freeze at his words.

It’s true, you think to yourself, we’re probably going back to how it was before when this is all over. That’s probably why he’s being nice to me.

“Hey, you alright? Did I say something?” James asks, a concerned look on his face.

“N-No, you’re good. Sorry. Ready to eat?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah... You sure everything’s okay?” He asks again, trying to make sure.

“James, everything is okay, please. Let’s just eat.” You smile, placing a hand over his in reassurement.

-

Dinner was delicious, and now you and James were sipping on wine while working, occasionally checking on Lucy and Alpine.

“Hey, do you think a group project could work? I usually give some to my students, I have a template I follow, but you could change it to your liking-” James tells you, but you cut him off with your thoughts.

“James, can I ask you a question?” You ask, hovering a hand over his.

“S-Sure. What’s up?” He sounds weary.

“You know, before we started this project, you like... loathed me.” You say. “Why?” Your voice breaks at that last word, barely getting it out of your throat.

“I... I just-” He takes a deep breath and looks down, grabbing your hand, “I thought you were... snobby, stuck up. I thought you came to this school thinking you were better than everyone else, that you were here to one-up us all.”

And before you could cut him to deny it with your shaking head, he continues.

“And I know now that I was wrong. I-I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you, especially at the bar. After you left and Steve took me home, he basically yelled at me and told me how what I thought of you was completely off. I shouldn’t have assumed all those things about you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, one day.” He concludes, holding onto your hand so tightly to convey just how sorry he was.

“I- Oh, James. Y-You know, I never meant to come off that way. I just- I’ve always had trouble making friends and talking to people, and things have been hard recently. I never meant to make you o-or anyone else, for that matter, to feel that way. I’m so sorry.” You say, tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Y/N, doll.” James moves out of his seat, wrapping you in his arms. “I can’t even tell you how much I wish I was more open-minded, more patient. Ever since Steve and Nat have talked to me, I’ve been just-”

“Nat? What has Natasha told you?” You stop him, pulling away.

“She- she just told me to stop. She told me you’ve been going through a lot, and that I wasn’t making it any better for you so-”

“Did she say what? Why would she tell you about my personal life-” You begin to ramble and waving your hands around.

“Doll, no she didn’t-”

“She had no right to say-”

But before you could continue, Bucky cuts you off.

With his lips.

Against yours.

Bucky was kissing you.

Oh my god, he’s kissing me!

You pull away looking at him in utter shock.

“Wh- What did you do that for?”

“I just- You were rambling, but I didn’t know how else to stop you.” James says, a blush creeping up his neck.

“So you kissed me?” You ask incredulously.

“Uh- yes?” He says, more like asks.

“I uh... I have to go.” You say, looking anywhere but his eyes as you gather your items, hunting down Lucy and putting her in her carrier; much to her protest and distaste.

“Y-Y/N, please, don’t go. Let’s just talk!” James pleads, but you’re not listening.

“N-No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you in class next week. Bye, James.” You huff out, running to the nearest stairwell.

A part of you wanted him to run after you, but you needed time to process... whatever that was.

Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or because he wanted to shut you up?

You cut the drive home into half, the first thing you do after getting through your door is calling Natasha.

“Nat, I fucked up...” Your voice was weak through the phone.

And back in Bucky’s apartment, he dialed Steve’s number.

“Steve, I fucked up... real bad.” He meekly provides, his head in his hands.

-

a/n: oh boy. what’s gonna happen ??? hmmm... let me know down below! hope you guys enjoyed ;)

also, did y’all peep my stan lee cameo? :)