#why the hell would it be the norm across the universe

[drdemonprince]

I always used to think about like sending authors I liked letters but somehow that felt too personal and weird but I guess messaging you on tumblr from my torture fetish blog is fine yeah. Anyway I just wanted to say I’ve been a fan of your writing for a while and I’ve always found that even if I disagreed with your ideas, they were thought provoking and made me consider new perspectives, which is something I appreciate. I’m also trans and autistic and I finally got my hands on unmasking autism in my local library and really enjoyed it.

I know I’m not exactly the target audience, as I was diagnosed as a child and don’t mask as much as some autistics, but I actually found I resonated a lot with it and it also helped me empathise more with other autistics I know who do have more of these experiences that I don’t share. I wanted to reflect on the fact that despite knowing I was autistic from an early age, I still feel that I have been pressured into hiding and compensating for my autistic and adhd traits (which I was diagnosed with as an adult, you know, because the previous version of the dsm didn’t let you have both), both intentionally through special education and being penalised for these traits and passively through absorbing societal ableism and prejudice.

Masking is definitely something more intentional for me, and I appreciated that you did touch on how for some of us it is necessary to our survival in certain contexts. I’m a nursing student and while I think I still come off as obviously neurodivergent to a lot of people, I do have a work persona that I find I have to put on, and even in the organising space, I feel that I also have to be more considerate of how I’m socialising and how I come across to others.

I helped found and run the disabled and neurodivergent students society at my university and in doing so I’ve come across a lot of autistics, the majority of whom were diagnosed or self realised as adults and have had to go through a process of unmasking. I have unfortunately found that even among these groups, I still feel the need to mask and I am often judged for my authentic autistic self. I do worry that if I totally unmasked I would actually just not be a pleasant person to be around. I’ve lost friends who have seen me have meltdowns, which can be destructive and distressing for people around me, and I think by nature I am quite blunt, stubborn and maybe don’t have a very agreeable personality, which to me is part of my autism, but other autistics around me still see this as a personal flaw of mine.

I’ve even had to leave a local autism organisation as their policies were very exclusionary and they did not want to listen to feedback or make any changes, and this was mostly attended and run by later realised or diagnosed autistics who seemed to have a lot of internalised and lateral ableism. They intentionally excluded people with learning disabilities from the group and would not let people attend with carers as this made others ‘feel less comfortable sharing their thoughts openly in that space’. I guess I just wanted to highlight this because we still have a long way to go as a community to truly accept our unmasked selves and peers and we need a hell of a lot of societal and structural change for people to truly be able to live authentic lives.

I also just wanted to quickly ask, why do you choose to use neurodiverse as opposed to neurodivergent when talking about people who do not fit societal norms? I always thought that neurodiverse included both neurodivergent and neurotypical people and was more about the diversity of populations, whereas neurodivergent specifically refers to people whose minds diverge from the neurotypical standards. Either way, it was a great read and I will for sure be recommending it to others in my community! Thank you for all your work! -S

Hey thanks for the message!

Oh god yeah, newly realized and newly unmasking Autistics can truly be such nightmares to be around in terms of projecting their internalized ableism at every fuckin body, speaking over nonverbal and intellectually disabled people, prioritizing their own concerns, and insisting upon a singular community point of view. I have some complicated feelings about writing The Book that encourages them and speaks directly to them, because I don't think centering the more privileged and therefore dangerous within a heavily marginalized group necessarily benefits anyone else in said group, and can worsen existing power imbalances... but still, I wrote the book that I desperately had needed when I was still figuring this stuff out, and I'm grateful to hear that some of it still resonated with you and was helpful in conveying how others feel.

I also have determined that in a lot of public spaces I pretty much do have to mask, at least by inhibiting myself heavily, and it's really sad and draining, but it is also the experience of the majority of my Autistic siblings in the world. I have unusual ways of moving, emotions do not come easily or consistently to me, I lack empathy, I find most social exchanges pointless or annoying but still want people to care about me, I am impatient and easily flustered and defensive, I have a somewhat controlling codependent bent and a deep fear of abandonment that can turn manipulative and BPD-y, there is a lot of shit about me that I often feel I need to keep on lock. It is alienating especially when I bump against more respectable and emotionally highly sensitive Autistics who wish to connect in a particular way and are disappointed that I can't give them the glimmering positivity that they like. This is worsened by so many of the aforementioned high masking Autistics being white Midwestern woman socialized and incapable of contending with any negativity or even just neutral even handedness. I know how exhausting that shit is to deal with, is what I'm saying, and honestly sometimes it makes me feel some type of way to see my book being so heralded by people of a kind highly likely to socially aggress against someone like me. But ultimately this is all just pattern recognition and I can't really tell.

As for the neurodiverse/vergent usage it's a long story but basically comes down to some editorial feedback I got at a crucial point in the process. For the sequel, Unmasking for Life, I have gone back to occasionally using neurodivergent, though I prefer neuroconformity / nonconformity as a framework for describing things instead these days. It's not a one to one replacement of the term ND, it's more contextual and flexible and I think a hell of a lot more precise

thanks for writing

[bluemoonsunrise]

Demons and Savages

pairing: tsu’tey and human!avatar driver (fem presenting)

content warnings: graphic language, alien vs human differences, unconventional grief, the RDA sucks, fuck u miles quaritch, tension you could cut with a knife, nsfw themes: grinding, biting, scent marking???. enemies to lovers. (also, i don’t like to capitalize sentences on tumbler :3)

word count: o_0 long… <3 ur welcome

pov: 2nd person so you can add yourself in. for writing/plot purposes, your character is named eris ramsey. i’ll use the name sparingly but i can’t take myself seriously writing y/n— so please just work with me here. i promise it’ll be worth it. (i hope)

< previous chapter

———🌌———

SUMMARY: earth was dying and your sister was, too, but cancer killed her faster than humans were killing earth. when she passed, she not only left behind an empty apartment full of memories but a billion dollar avatar without a driver. in a desperate attempt to not waste that money, the program she had spent the last five years preparing to join recruited you— her twin. of course, you agreed. there was nothing left on earth for you. there was nothing left on earth for anyone— that’s why people like your sister were sent off to pandora.

when your sister had spoken of pandora, it seemed like a dream.

the RDA promised it would be like a safari adventure.

truth was that pandora is beautiful. beautiful and unlike anything else across the whole of the universe. it is breathtaking— and that’s because what chases you through the forest hunts with the intent to kill; so you best run like hell even if your lungs are on fire. beasts and monsters of all kinds lurk out of sight waiting for the right moment to kill you dead— but none are as dangerous as him.

the blue shadow with the bow.

chapter five

— i know you —

the chopper was louder than you remembered. it made it hard to sleep even with the protective headphone over your ears. leaving before the sun was up, you were utterly exhausted. if your head was pounding bad enough to make you scowl with your eyes closed, you couldn’t imagine the headache jake had from his link being broken. with your head rested on his shoulder, the two of you tired your best to sleep.

you wished you hadn’t.

she came to you in your dreams.

“hey,” grace’s voice was gravelly over the headset. you felt her nudge your leg. “twin one and twin two, wake up before you miss it.”

you let out a soft whine as you stretched. beside you, jake yawned. he turned his head away from the glaring morning sun and tucked it down into your shoulder despite the mask. the cool breeze of oxygen was vital— but you really wished you could’ve taken it off to rub the sleep from your eyes. blinking hard, you tried to focus.

“oh, holy shit…”

emerging from the clouds, the hallelujah mountains came into view. the massive, floating rocks were covered in green. waterfalls fell into sprays of cool mist that wafted into the helicopter that helped wake up jake. he, too, stared dumbfounded outside.

“ain’t it something?” grace asked.

you turned your head to look at her and all you could do was nod. your eyes welled with tears you didn’t let fall. it was gorgeous. too gorgeous. earth — even as pretty as it was in its prime — could’ve never ever compared to the majesty and the glory that was pandora.

“aaaand that’s another job well done, folks. thanks for traveling air pandora. tips are appreciated.” trudy said in a perfect public service voice as she began to shut down the chopper.

“best damn pilot this side of the universe.” jake said.

trudy smirked. “you know it, baby.”

blue base: hidden was where you would be spending the next handful of months with grace, norm, trudy, and jake. setting up the field lab was no easy task. there was much to do. air filters had to be cleaned. link-pods and tech needed to be recalibrated to deal with the flux vortex. a new radio channel had to be set up in all the walkie-talkies. food needed to be stored away. bunks needed to be prepared.

you had so much to do— too much to do.

and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about tsu’tey.

“hey, where are you going?” grace asked as you rose from the table. you had all eaten dinner as a group once all the work had finally gotten done.

“i have to link.” you said as you tossed away your trash and took a last sip of water.

“it’s late. you should wait until tomorrow.” grace said with a small shake of her head.

“i can’t. i’m sorry.” you frowned at her and whispered, “it’s important. he needs to know.”

while the other three at the table exchanged confused glances, grace only sighed. she got up without another protest and fired up the link-pod. you climbed inside and laid back.

fuck was it going to be hard not to fall asleep.

as soon as your head hit the spongy blue foam, you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there. as soon as the hatch shut and your eyes closed, your vision tunneled into white.

the warm night air and smell of pandoran dinner were a comfort you didn’t know you needed. you laid by yourself for a moment. you were tired. incredibly so. it had been nearly two days since you’d been in your avatar at this point. traveling to the hallelujah mountains and setting up blue base: hidden had taken more time than you thought it would.

the center of home tree was alive with music and dancing. a massive bonfire in the middle of the gathering burned like a second sun. shadows danced across the walls as voices echoed in song. you couldn’t help but smile. you couldn’t help, either, as you scanned face to face looking for him.

“dream-walker, you’re awake.” the tsahik said.

your turned. sitting with her daughter, mo’at ran her fingers over a beaded chord. neytiri did not look at you as you crouched down to be level. instead, she focused on her own beaded chord.

“what’s all this?” you asked with a glance around at the festivities.

“a celebration of life.”

neytiri’s voice was like snow. cold and beautiful. it almost hurt your ears how pretty it was— and you realized it was the first time you’d ever heard her speak.

she met your eyes and said, “there has been a death since you were last here. we mourned and now we celebrate.”

your heart sank.

for a split moment— a moment you never wanted to live again, you thought it was him.

where was tsu’tey?

“an elder passed in her sleep.” the tsahik said. she watched your expression. she seemed to know exactly what you feared. “she lived a long, full life. now she will live forever in eywa.”

“i’m sorry for your loss…” you whispered, saying the only thing you could offer.

“there is no loss,” neytiri said without looking at you. instead, she was focused on something behind you. “you cannot lose what was not really yours.”

“eris.”

you looked up at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue. you shot up, your pupils blown wide. tsu’tey took ahold of your arm and squeezed you. his ears perked and the look in his eyes was one that you’d never thought you’d see.

relief.

“come.” tsu’tey said.

without another word, he whisked you away. he was always doing that. grabbing and pulling you. you wondered as you hurried to keep up with him, when that had become your favorite part of your day.

to your surprise, you left home tree.

where better to talk privately than where no one was at this hour?

“you were gone a long time.” tsu’tey said as he walked beside you through the sunset painted forest. soon, it would be dark and the forest would glow all on its own.

“i know…i’m sorry.” you said softly. you glanced up at him and heat rushed to your face. he was looking at you. “things— uh…things got real crazy real fast. i’m happy to report that jake is not a spy for the RDA.”

“you are sure of this?” tsu’tey asked, his brows drawing together.

“yes.” you said. you cracked a small smile and laughed. “grace is intent on making sure those who would wish to plant spies here never get the chance. she pulled my whole team out of the RDA facility. we are— well…maybe i shouldn’t tell you where we are.”

tsu’tey’s eyes widened and he asked, “are you not at your colony?”

“no. not anymore. we’ve gone wild. we are far from hell’s gate. far from here, too. at least, i think? i’m not really sure where those floating mountains are.”

you slapped your hand over your mouth.

tsu’tey smiled down at you and chuckled. “what? afraid i’ll come and kill you?”

“maybe…” you whispered, letting your hands drop.

“you have proven yourself to be useful, eris, so there is little to gain by killing you.” tsu’tey said. his arm brushed against yours and he met your eyes. “better yet, you’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy.”

your throat tightened and your chest caved but your forced yourself to smile.

silence settled over the two of you as you walked and you were thankful for it. your voice would’ve cracked and you would’ve cried if you had to say anything more. walking with him now, you realized how scared you had been the last 37 hours.

with him, you felt safe.

and it made you cry.

you stopped dead in your tracks and covered your face with your hands. big, wet tears rolled down your cheeks. the stress of the move and the exhaustion due to it made for an awful, potent mix of a complete and utter overwhelm.

“eris?” tsu’tey whispered your name too gently.

“i’m just tired,” you said. you wiped your eyes hard and tried to calm your breath. you looked up at him and shook your head. “i’m fine.”

“let us go back. we will get you back to your body so that you can sleep.” tsu’tey said.

“no.” you shook your head as tears dripped from your eyes. “i don’t want to go back yet. please. i want to stay here. i want to stay with y—”

you caught yourself.

not we’ll enough.

tsu’tey ears perked and his pupils rounded. carefully, he flicked his head. without a word, you followed behind him. you had no idea where you were going. you didn’t care. when you came upon a massive tangle of gigantic tree roots, the forest was beginning to glow in the shadows.

“this way,” tsu’tey said as he crouched down.

you raised your hand up to protect your face as you followed him into the dark. a tunnel. the smell of pandoran soil was strong. lights began to twinkle the deeper into the dark tunnel you walked until blue and purple were the only colors you could see.

underground was a small burrow-like cave. the grass shined as you walked. the tree roots were speckled with colorful dots. the gems in the walls of the burrow twinkled and reflected the light. in the center, an unlit firepit. woven mats lined the floor. baskets were placed against the walls.

“what is this place?” you asked softly.

“it is where hunters come to rest if they tire greatly before reaching home tree. there are many places like this in the forest.” tsu’tey said.

you watched as he lit a fire. slowly, you sat down on one of the mats. it took skill to make a fire that fast. you wondered if you’d master something like that one day. would he teach you?

“where is jake’s avatar?” you asked. the thought came to your mind like fire catching onto dry grass. you watched the flames swirl as he added kindle.

“the tsahik’s hut.” tsu’tey said without looking at you.

you looked at him though.

you watched the way his muscles rippled as he moved. you watched the way he shifted his weight as he reached around. when he finally sat down beside you, you stared at his face. his frustratingly handsome face.

was it wrong that you found him handsome?

he was a ten-foot-tall blue alien and all you wanted to do was let your head drop into his lap and fall asleep.

“why do you look at me like that?” tsu’tey asked. his voice was low. low and curious. he turned his head and met your eyes.

you pursed your lips. “like what?”

“like…” tsu’tey hesitated. perhaps he didn’t have the words in english. he cracked an awkward smile. “like you want to…eat me.”

your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh. as heat filled your face, you looked away. “i don’t look at you like that…”

“not— not like you want to chew me and swallow.” tsu’tey was quick to say, worried he confused you. he tried to catch a glimpse of your face as he sat forward. “but like you want to…i don’t know. forget it. i can’t express it well.”

“it’s because i think you’re hot.”

when he didn’t say anything, you forced yourself to look at him. his ears were perked. he was waiting for you to explain. to say more. you found it hard to.

“hot…” tsu’tey repeated. “like i burn you?”

“kinda.” you said with a small laugh. you played with one of the braids in your hair as you stared at the fire. “it just means i…i think you’re attractive. you’re good looking. i think you’re hot.”

“is that why you try to put your mouth on mine?” tsu’tey asked.

you wanted to curl into a ball and die.

“yeah…” you said softly, nodding your head. you exhaled the air in your lungs awkwardly.

“i feel like that about you.”

you nearly broke your neck looking up at him so fast. your eyes widened and your lips parted in a soft expression of shock. you don’t know why it surprised you so much. he had literally tried to fuck you in the hot springs.

still, it was different hearing it so outright.

“you…think i’m hot?” you asked under your breath.

tsu’tey nodded once. “yes.”

“and you want to…kiss me?”

“all the time.”

you could’ve fainted.

your heart was racing and so much blood was rushing to your face that you felt light headed— but you had to keep your wits about you.

you laid back on your elbows and nodded, trying to seem as nonchalant as you could. “epic.”

“epic?” tsu’tey asked as he, too, laid back on his elbows. he looked at you. “what is epic?”

“forget it.” you said with a small shake of your head.

so embarrassing…

silence fell over the both of you. the burrow was full only with the sounds of crackling sticks. soft, even breaths. a small hum of some tune he whispered under his breath. you looked up at him but he kept his eyes on the fire.

it became warm in the safe haven below the ground. perfectly warm. it made your eyes heavy. his humming did, too. slowly, you slipped down to lay on your side. when you did, he did the same. on the mat beside you, he rested his head on his palm and watched you as he hummed.

“i don’t want to fall asleep…” you murmured, rubbing your eyes. you smiled faintly. “you’re making me sleepy.”

“what is it you want then?” tsu’tey asked in a low voice.

you shook your head.

he sighed the smallest bit. “just say it and i will do it.”

you hesitated for a moment.

tsu’tey tensed as you wiggled closer and curled up against his chest. he looked down at you. with your eyes closed, you tried to play it cool— but your heart was pounding in your chest.

the tension in you died away as he brushed his fingers down your arm. you relaxed as he laid down with you. his arm slid underneath your head. a perfect pillow. his legs tangled with yours. his lips rested against the top of your head.

he placed the faintest kiss on your hairline.

you were no longer tired.

all you could hear was the pound of your heart. it was like thunder. you breathed as deeply and as evenly as you could to keep yourself from squirming. you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart raced.

he could.

“mawey,” tsu’tey murmured, reaching between you to place his hand on your chest.

it only made you less calm.

slowly, you lifted your head to be eye-to-eye with him. with his hand still on your chest, he could feel the beat your heart had skipped. his pupils widened as you stared into his eyes. his tail was swaying, audibly swishing against the mat.

“what?” you asked softly.

“you smell good,” tsu’tey whispered, a small smile curling on his lip.

you bit the inside of your cheek. you knew what he was getting at. pheromones. you inhaled through your nose. the smell of the fire was all that you could really pick out. that and a sweet, faint aroma you figured was the grass.

you shook your head. “i only smell the fire.”

tsu’tey let out a low sigh but smiled anyways. “you are frustrating…do you know that?”

“i don’t mean to be.” you said softly.

“i know,” he dragged his fingers up your arm and pressed his palm against your face. “which is even more frustrating...”

tsu’tey kissed you.

and it took everything in you not to moan.

worse, it was harder not to devour him completely.

he kissed you slowly and softly, as if he were testing out the waters. maybe he expected you to feel different on his lips than real na’vi women did. or perhaps kissing was entirely different on pandora than it was on earth.

you let him lead.

you liked it best when he told you what to do.

your fingers laced through his braids as you kissed him back. his lips were like velvet. his mouth was hot. you wanted to taste him but you didn’t know if you could. you were too afraid to ruin this by doing something too human.

but you couldn’t help it.

you parted your lips in the hopes that he would give you more.

his tongue was wet and coarse as it dipped into your mouth. you sighed against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck. guiding you to the ground, he leaned the top half of himself over you as your tongues slow danced together.

he tasted so fucking good.

he smelled so fucking good.

his pheromones hit you like an anvil to the head like in those old cartoons. salvia filled your mouth and a tingle began to vibrate in your belly. between your legs, your pussy began to weep. your tail curled itself tight around your leg. you felt breathless. you felt hot all over.

you felt so bad for not realizing what you did to him without even knowing it.

tsu’tey pulled his lips away from yours but he did not remove them from you. he glided them along your jaw. he nipped at your throat as you tilted your head back. you were squirming below him, panting and huffing as he kissed the sweetest spots you had. soon enough, you were grinding against each other.

a sharp yelp escaped you as he bit into the crook of your neck. fangs threatened to puncture through your skin— but they didn’t. he didn’t. he just wanted to bite. and bite you he did. over and over again, across your throat and shoulders, tsu’tey bit you hard enough to draw gasps from your lips but not enough to bruise.

your eyes shot open as he rolled you onto your side. the fire warmed your face but that was nothing compared to the flush that burned in your cheeks as he pressed himself against your backside. he pushed his hips forward into your ass. you could feel his erection. it throbbed against you from below his loincloth

“i will not mate with you face to face,” tsu’tey murmured against your ear. he dragged his lips along the pointed cartilage. “but we may do it like this and i will hold you just as close.”

“why can’t we face each other?” you asked softly, squirming back to be closer to him.

you tried to look over your shoulder and meet his eyes but he tucked his face down into the nape of your neck and bit down. you winced softly and closed your eyes, grinding back against him subconsciously.

“because if we look at each other, we grow attached.” tsu’tey said, his breath hot against your neck. it made you shiver. “na’vi can only mate for life by forming tsaheylu but there is still a deep connection that comes with staring into the eyes of someone you mount.”

“i may not be a virgin, eris, but i have never faced anyone while i coupled with them.” tsu’tey said as he reached down between you both and pushed your leg up to your belly. he was making room for himself. “that honor shall belong only to my mate.”

your heart sank at once. “to neytiri…”

“to whomever i chose.” tsu’tey said gruffly.

he didn’t have much of a choice.

you both knew that.

“this is wrong.” you said softly. you turned onto your tummy and looked at him. well, you tried your best to. it was hard to look him in the eye.

“what is?” tsu’tey asked with a small shake of his head.

“if you’re…if you’re supposed to mate with neytiri for life, what are we doing? it doesn’t feel right. it feels like you’re cheating on her.” you said through the tightness in your throat.

tsu’tey frowned and leaned into you. he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “na’vi cannot cheat. until na’vi form tsaheylu, they are not bonded to anyone or anything besides their ikran. once na’vi mate, there cannot be another.”

“we are doing nothing wrong.” tsu’tey murmured against your ear. he nipped at it softly. “but if you do not wish to, i will not make you.”

“i do wish to but it doesn’t seem right. i’m not…i don’t even know what i’m doing here. i’m not like you. not up here.” you pointed to your head. “and not here either.” you placed your hand on your chest.

tsu’tey pushed himself up onto his knees as you sat up. you were almost entirely turned away from him. slowly, he came up behind you. he ran his hands down your arms and peeked his head over your shoulder. you tried your best to ignore him.

“no matter what you are, eywa has chosen you for something.” tsu’tey whispered into your ear. he wrapped his arm around you and placed his palm against your thumping heart. “no matter what you are, this heart is strong.”

“no matter what you are, i see you.”

you turned your head and met his striking yellow gaze. your lips were ajar in soft shock. your ears pinned and perked. your tail curled itself into knots as butterflies ate at your insides.

he saw you.

he could see you.

at least, he thought he could.

he had no idea who the real you was.

you frowned at him as you studied the details of his face. “i wish that were true.”

his brows drew together and he tilted his head.

“you don’t even know me.” you said under your breath. you looked away and closed your eyes tight. “you said it yourself, my kind are a disease on this land. we don’t belong here. i…i shouldn’t be doing this with you.”

“i speak in anger. it is my curse. for that i am sorry.” tsu’tey said in a low, gentle voice. he slid his hands around your hips and down your thighs, keeping you close. “i will stop being cruel.”

“it’s not like i make it very easy for you to be nice sometimes,” you whispered as you watched his fingers trace the stripes on your thighs.

“we both need to improve.” tsu’tey said as he brushed his nose along your ear. “it is something we shall work on.”

he was being too affectionate. it was wearing your resolve thin— but was he being affection because he liked you or just to get laid?

your chest started to hurt all over again.

“we can’t,” you whispered.

tsu’tey sighed and hugged you closer. “we can.”

“no we can’t.” you turned. facing him was harder. you wished you stayed looking the other way. “there is no we. you are promised to another and in human culture, i’d be considered a homewrecker.”

“eris,” he breathed your name as if it pained him. “i don’t want neytiri. and nor does she want me.”

“i thought you said it was duty.” you said with a small shake of your head.

he scowled at you and squished your cheeks between his fingers. “you never stop talking…”

“wllwhatdyowan.” you tried to say through your squished lips. tsu’tey rolled his eyes and removed his hand from your face. rubbing your cheek, you asked again.

“what do you want?”

“what i want is for you to turn over and let me inside you, woman. i want that very much. to hold and bite and kiss you.” tsu’tey said almost impatiently.

you annoyed him so greatly.

and yet he wanted you anyways.

“will you at least let me earn it first?” you asked. your voice was hardly loud enough. your face was hot and your tail was swaying wildly behind you.

he tipped his head. “what?”

you sighed and looked down into your lap. you picked at the skin around your nails and rolled your eyes as embarrassment weighed on your chest. so stupid. this was so stupid. you were so, so stupid…

“i want that, too, but i can’t even shoot an arrow. i feel…unworthy.” you cringed as you said the word. you should’ve just shut up and let him fuck you.

“eris,” he tried to interject but you wouldn’t let him.

“once i learn how to be more like you and less like…like me…then…okay.” you looked up at him and bit your lip. you couldn’t read his expression. “we can…we can do whatever this is.” you gestured between you both to whatever tension was tangled around you.

tsu’tey only stared at you. you felt like a slide under a microscope. he took in every detail of you. every facet. every stripe and dot. every fine hair on your almost na’vi face.

he only nodded once. “it is decided then.”

— 🌌 —

strength was something you never thought you could have.

on earth, the pollution had made you feel sick. it kept you indoors. it made your mind hazy. on pandora, there was no mist in your mind. there was no laying around— not on the path the you had chosen to walk.

you wanted to be a warrior.

you would become one.

rain or shine, you were out in the forest with tsu’tey learning how to be strong. strong in your body, in your head, and in your heart. every day you would run. along the forest floor, over the towering tree roots, in the muddy riverbed. you ran and ran and ran and built up your stamina. every day you would climb. you climbed trees, rocks, and vines. you learned how to pull yourself, push yourself, and most importantly— catch yourself.

archery was the hardest for you.

the first time you shot an arrow, it ricocheted off a rock and nearly flew back at you. tsu’tey hadn’t even known that level of bad luck was possible. you hadn’t done much wrong, either. it was not your posture. it was not your technique.

it was simply poor luck.

“here…” he said under his breath, eyes still wide. he came up behind you and adjusted your elbow. the adjustment would change nothing. it was too small— but he didn’t want you to feel terrible. “try like that instead.”

“sure…” you muttered, keeping your elbow straight.

archery was far harder than riding a direhorse. while you sustained more injuries riding mitsia, at least there was pay off. there was visible progress. the art archery took you hours to get comfortable with.

and then it took you days to master.

“can you see?” tsu’tey asked as he grabbed your face. he looked into your eyes. “you can see, yes?”

“yeah, i can fuckin’ see.” you huffed as you turned your face away. you ignored him as you tried again. it was pouring. the rain was cold and the wind was harsh. “it’s the wind. the wind is fucking me up.”

“it was not windy yesterday when you did not hit anything.” tsu’tey said.

you hissed at him and he was quick to look away.

days were spent in the archery clearing. while jake was learning how to ride a direhorse with neytiri — who got stuck with training a demon of her own under orders from her father — you were stuck every day in that clearing with tsu’tey. he resorted to drawing in the dirt to pass the time as you missed target after target.

there was only so much bad luck someone could have, right? surely, you were just getting it all out now. one big awful week of it.

tsu’tey paced behind you as you drew your arm back. all day you had spent out in the glaring sun. not one time did you hit the target. instead, you hit everything around it.

seriously, you had to have been mentally deficient.

“breathe.” tsu’tey said.

you took a breath and held it. you focused. you closed one eye and honed in one the wooden board with a big yellow dot on it. you exhaled slowly. in the stillness between breaths, you shot the arrow.

patuk!

dead in the center of the yellow dot, your arrow pierced the board. the yellow and green calling card waved as the arrow rattled.

“ah!” you gasped, your eyes wide. “oh, my god!”

“yes!” tsu’tey exclaimed.

you turned to him and threw your arms up. you nearly screeched with joy as he hooked his arms around your waist and lifted you up. you hugged him tight as he yipped with excitement. he placed you back on the ground and cupped your face.

“you did it!” he said with a wide smile.

“i did it!” you giggled.

“do it again.” he encouraged, nudging your waist.

your smile dropped. “uh…”

“come on,” tsu’tey turned you around and urged you to raise the bow. “you can do it. breathe and shoot.”

you pulled an arrow out from behind your back and loaded the bow. you breathed deep and focused on the target. you let the arrow fly free and it narrowly missed.

you frowned.

“no, no. don’t get discouraged. again. come on.” tsu’tey said, giving your back a soft pat. “you can do it.”

you ignored how hot your face felt. you cleared your throat and shook out the nervous tension in your body. once more, you loaded an arrow into your bow. you kept your core tight. you kept your arm straight. you took a breath— and you let it fly.

patuk!

the arrow landed just a little ways above the first.

you turned your head to meet his eyes and you couldn’t help but smile. he smiled, too, and ran a gentle hand over your hair.

“well done, tsamsiyu.” tsu’tey said.

you dipped your head.

since that day in the hunters burrow, tsu’tey had made an effort to be kinder. in the same regard, so had you. while you still bickered and he still called you a moron every chance he got, there was less turmoil between the two of you.

replacing it was tension.

heavy, painful tension that made every moment harder than it should’ve been. no time was harder than when you would sit across from him and try you best to learn his language. you weren’t hopeless— but you weren’t fluent.

you watched as he gestured to the space around you. you scrunched your nose and clenched as if you were pushing the word forward in your mind.

“fuck, i know this.” you muttered.

“yes. you do. i’ve told you it fifty times.” tsu’tey said, continuing the gesture. he looked above. he looked below. he looked around.

“fra’u!” you gasped, pointing a finger at him. “fra’u! everything!”

tsu’tey grinned and nodded. he was quick to move onto the next word. he pursed his lips and whistled.

“fwefwi,” you said with a small laugh. “whistle.”

tsu’tey whistled again and swayed his hand from side to side. your brows drew together and your shook your head at him. he repeated the action once more, whistling and he swayed his hand.

“wind?” you asked. when he rolled his eyes at you, you corrected yourself. “hufwe.”

“mn,” he nodded. “and if you were to say that it was a light wind?”

“hufwetsyìp.” you said.

“good.” he smiled. he beckoned your forward and you scooted closer to him. he dragged his finger across your lower lid. “what are these?”

“nari.” you answered. “eyes.”

he smacked you with his tail. “this?”

you smacked him with yours. “kxetse. tail.”

he brushed his thumb across your lips. “and these?”

your mind went blank. staring at him, all you could do was blink. slowly, your lips curled into a smile as his did, too. he seemed to enjoy your sudden speechlessness.

“i— i don’t remember.” you said with a soft, bashful laugh.

he titled his head and cocked an eyebrow. “you don’t remember?”

you giggled and shook your head. “no, i don’t.”

“c’mon,” tsu’tey purred. “you know. you must know.”

your ears perked. hearing human slang come out of him was still so awe-striking. while his antics and habits rubbed off on you, yours rubbed off on him, too. you spent so much time together. little things like that were a reminder of just how much time you spent together.

“i don’t remember. seriously, i don’t. i think i have to touch your lips to remember.” you said with a small, devious little smile.

“oh…” tsu’tey’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated. he leaned forward and tried to suppress his smirk. “go on then, skxawng.”

slowly, you traced the shape of his lips. your breath caught in your throat as you remembered how it felt to kiss him. meeting his eyes, you could almost see his thoughts.

he was thinking the same thing.

“lips.” you said. you shook your head. “i don’t remember.”

“meseyri,” tsu’tey said softly. his breath was warm against your fingers. “awstengyem meseyri. two lips.”

“meseyri.” you repeated, gliding your fingers across the soft pinkish-purple skin of his lips.

tsu’tey pressed a soft kiss to the tips of your fingers.

you dropped your hand and pushed yourself forward, not being able to bare it another second. denying the pull between you the last few weeks had been torture. he grabbed your throat eagerly and tugged you into a kiss. a husky huff escaped him as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. he tugged at your waist, hoarding you closer.

your lips only got to meet for a moment before you heard the thundering of hooves.

tsu’tey pulled back and looked over the side of the towering root you were sat on. with the sun beginning to set, warriors and hunters began to return home. among them, jake and neytiri.

“come,” tsu’tey said. he had begun speak small words and phrases in na’vi to help familiarize you with the language. “it is time to eat.”

reluctantly, you got up.

“hey!” jake waved as you entered the dining circle. he was sat by himself waiting for you. unlike tsu’tey who would sit with you at dinners, neytiri had never once sat with jake.

although, tsu’tey had stopped sitting with you now that jake was around.

he gave your arm a soft squeeze before parting ways with you. sitting down in front of jake, you smiled. there was always relief in seeing him. especially since he looked pretty beat up, too, after a day of trying to ride a direhorse. it made you feel better to know that even a marine got bucked off.

“rough day?” you asked with a teasing smile.

“nah. not too bad.” jake said as he picked up a skewer of roasted meat. he took a bite and was quick to chew. “your day?”

“lots of na’vi practice. my heads all jumbled with it.” you said as you picked up a fig-like fruit and took a bite of it. it tasted so sweet that it made your tail curl in delight. no fruit had ever been that sweet and delicious on earth.

when sat together, earth was something you and jake talked about often. comparing foods, flora, animals, and customs, you and jake could talk for hours about how different pandora was. how wonderful it was. how scary it was.

“you know; in the end, i think coming in blind to all this may have been a good thing.” jake said as he chewed on the skewer like a toothpick. “i think if i had known half the stuff i know about this place, i would’ve stayed home.”

“really?” you asked, your brows raising. “i figured this was just your kinda place, marine.”

“well, it is now that i’m here. especially now that im here in this place.” jake glanced around at the clan and smiled. “but if i had been told there were actual fucking monsters and plants that could shock you and spray poison…i definitely would’ve passed on it.”

“maybe i would’ve, too, honestly. i got to study up on the language and the forest. conveniently, the RDA left out the palulukan and the nantang from my guide.” you sighed just a bit and you looked around, your eyes falling on someone sitting just close enough for you to see every detail of. “i think it more so boils down for me to missing things on earth rather than not wanting to be here.”

“what do you miss most?” jake asked.

“tv.” you sighed. the corner of your lip pulled into a smile. “not so much the movies. grace has movies if we really wanted to watch them. i’m talking about television. shitty reality shows. documentaries of what earth used to be like when it was green. cooking shows. stuff like that.”

“i think i miss the sounds of the city the most. i miss the noise. here, it’s too quite. in hell’s gate, it’s too mechanical. up in the mountains, it’s all wind and nothing else.” jake said as he leaned back on his arms. he shrugged a bit. “i miss the sound of people. humans like us. cars beeping. distant laughter. high heels on concrete. tires on a rainy street. hell, even hearing people swear at each other.”

“i haven’t thought about things like that being here.” you said. you glanced around. the chatter of the clan was filling to the ears— but not in the way the bustle and hustle of earth was. in some way, you did miss it. especially the tires on a rainy street. that had soothed you to sleep your whole life.

“that’s a good one.” you said as you met jake’s eyes. you nodded. “i definitely miss things like that.”

“sometimes, i even miss the stink.” jake laughed lowly. he shook his head and tilted it back, smiling to himself. “it’s stupid but i brace myself for the smell of smog and gas every time i go outside here. i feel stupid, of course, but i almost miss the way the air would wreak.”

you laughed, too, and felt silly for understanding exactly what he meant. it was awful. it was disgusting. but it was home.

it had been home.

this was home now.

firelight and bioluminescence. blue skin and yellow eyes. fangs. monsters in the forest. floating mountains.

you’d always miss earth — some part of you would — but this was home.

jake was still new to the forests and the clan and home tree like you had once been. to him, it was foreign. to you, it was only more and more familiar as the days passed. you were beginning to make friends with the other hunters who had yet to pass iknimaya. saeyla was the kindest to you. she always said hi when she saw you. mo’at was always happy to see you. eytukan dipped his head and was polite enough.

and then there was tsu’tey.

sometimes, it felt like he was the only thing that made the world go round.

“did you eat enough?” tsu’tey asked as he walked you to your hammock.

“oh, yeah. i’m stuffed.” you said with a smile, patting your belly. you turned to say goodnight but the expression on his face stopped you. “what?”

“i overheard you and jake’suli,” tsu’tey said with a bit of reluctance. he wouldn’t meet your gaze. “you miss earth?”

your brows drew together and you felt hot with guilt.

oh, jesus…did he think you wanted to leave?

you could’ve up-chucked your whole dinner.

“sometimes i do but…but i don’t want to go back.” you said as quickly as you could but the words nearly alluded you.

“but you miss the sounds of your people.” tsu’tey looked into your eyes and his ears dropped. “and that is different from my people, yes? a city is not like this.”

“no…no a city isn’t like this. it’s loud. really loud. always loud.” you said with a small sigh. your shoulders dropped and you couldn’t help but look around. “it’s always glowing. not like the forest glows but bright lights. so many lights. in order to sleep, i would have to close my blinds and sometimes even cover my face with my hoodie.”

“i prefer this.” you said as you placed your hand on his chest. he met your eyes and seemed to soften under your gaze. “this is peace. earth so rarely knew peace. even though you hunt and craft by hand here, it was so much harder to survive on earth.”

“you are happy, yes?” tsu’tey asked.

the question surprised you.

is that what he was worried about? your happiness?

“yes,” you whispered. your ears dropped but your tail swayed back and forth. the question touched you. deeply and wholly. “yes, of course. of course, i’m happy. truly.”

“that is good. i was afraid that…that i made you feel like you did not belong.” tsu’tey said with shame lacing his voice.

you were speechless. all you could do was shake your head. he didn’t make you feel that way…

“you are different and that is true…but you do belong here.” tsu’tey placed his hand on your chest. “strong heart. and it belongs right here.”

you laid awake that night in your bunk.

staring at the stars through the glass in the ceiling, your chest felt warm and fuzzy. in the dark, you smiled to yourself. his words had touched you. sometimes, it was hard to understand where you stood with tsu’tey. one day he couldn’t stand you, the next he was all over you and drowning you in affection. he was strict and then he was easy going. he was mean and then he was kind.

sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

other times, it made you want to smack him and then kiss him before he could feel the pain.

tomorrow you may very well fall asleep wanting to smack him upside the head but tonight you wanted nothing more than a single kiss from him.

— 🌌 —

“eris,” norm said, shaking you awake. “eris, get up.”

“huh?” you picked your head up and tried to open your eyes. “what’s wrong?”

“eris, he’s outside.”

your heart dropped.

miles quaritch was outside.

you scrambled out of your bunk and hurried to throw on a decent pair of clothes. you slipped into jeans and pulled on an RDA issued shirt. you fixed your hair as best you could and stepped into your boots. as you hurried through the small tactical base, you nearly tripped over your own feet.

fuck.

were your video logs about archery training insufficient? of course, they were but you had no idea what you were doing. you had no idea how to gather the kind of intel that the head of security wanted.

you almost forgot to grab an oxygen mask before going into the airlock. thank god for trudy.

pushing open the heavy metal door, the morning breeze was cold so high up in the atmosphere. your breath was ragged and nearly fogged your mask. the helicopter outside was…trudy’s.

and grace was not standing with the colonel.

she was standing with him.

tsu’tey was unbelievably gigantic.

your heart could’ve stopped. your knees nearly gave out as his ikran screeched at you. he raised a gentle hand and stroked the creatures long face. yellow eyes flicked towards you— and his pupils blew wide.

“i’ll leave you two to talk.” grace said as she passed by you.

‘no!’ you wanted to beg, ‘don’t leave me alone with him!’

the door sealed shut and so had your fate.

slowly, you turned and his shadow swallowed you whole. with a yip, he sent his ikran away. the blue, white, and yellow patterned creature dove off the cliff and soared through the skies. tsu’tey tilted his head at you, his tail flicking behind him as you approached.

“what— what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your voice tight in your throat. “how…how the hell did you…how did you find us?”

“there is only one rock amongst the many that float with these on it.” tsu’tey said, flicking his head towards the field lab behind you.

“you are small.” tsu’tey said as he crouched down. he smirked as you recoiled. “are you scared of me?”

“no,” you lied. you steeled your spine, trying to seem taller than you actually were. “you’re just…big.”

big was an understatement. he was over ten feet tall and you were lucky to be the height you were.

tsu’tey’s tail swayed through the grass. if it hit you, it probably would’ve bruised you. it may have been able to break a rib. he seemed mindful of that fact as you stared at it.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you looked back up into his eyes. even when he was crouched you had to tilt your head back.

“i have come to learn about you.” tsu’tey said. he crawled forward to be closer and sat down in front of you. finally, you were somewhat level. “you spend all day and all night with me…it is only fair i come to you.”

“i…” you didn’t even know what to say. your head was spinning. it was hard to breathe even with oxygen being pumped right into your face. “there isn’t much to do here…you won’t fit inside the field lab easily. you wouldn’t be able to breathe well, either. it’s all oxygen in there. besides, it’s crowded.”

“can we not sit here?” tsu’tey asked with a small tilt of his head.

“we can…but it’s just— it’s cold.” you whispered, drawing your arms in close around you. you should’ve grabbed a sweater or a hoodie.

“come,” tsu’tey motioned for you to sit in his lap. “you will be warm here.”

“oh— oh, my god, no.” you said. you looked away as red filled your cheeks. “the whole crew is no doubt watching us through the window. i can’t just sit…there.”

tsu’tey looked passed you. sure enough, they were all watching. they were quick to scramble but they couldn’t go far. there was little privacy. jake would link soon. so would norm and grace— if grace decided not to study her samples and log her findings. and trudy would just…do whatever trudy did to pass the time.

“can i take you somewhere?” tsu’tey asked with an edge of caution to his voice.

“nope.” you refused. shaking your head and wiggling a finger at him, you said, “absolutely not. my fragile human ass stays put.”

tsu’tey huffed under his breath and pursed his lips. “always so difficult.”

“if you really wanted…we could use the west wing. it’s for bunking and it’s not going to be full at this hour now that everyone is up. i can see if grace can find a way for you to breathe.” you said with a small shrug.

tsu’tey seemed apprehensive to be stuck inside a small metal box but he flicked his head.

you were quick to hurry inside. within a few minutes, grace had made a reversed oxygen mask for tsu’tey. it was janky and if it didn’t work well he’d have to go back outside, but she had filled a larger oxygen canister with pandoran air and found a spare mouth-and-nose mask she connected to it.

tsu’tey clearly regretted his choices as he crawled through the front door. you were quick to guid him straight to the west wing. the ceiling was a bit taller there because of the bunks, so he didn’t have to keep his head hunched over so much.

“hey, watch the tail.” trudy said.

tsu’tey tucked his tail. he was quick to slide himself into the bunk room. you closed the door behind him and rested your forehead against it. you sighed. your heart was racing. slowly, you turned. when you did, you found him staring at the wall decorated with pictures of your life on earth. posters of your favorite animals. cities. pictures of you and your parents. pictures of your sister.

“i’m the one on the left,” you said as you pulled you mask off. carefully, you brushed your hair out of your face.

“i know.” tsu’tey said, gently touching the photo. he looked at you and his pupils dilated. “i know you, eris.”

you let out a soft breath. he reached down and lifted the mask to his face, inhaling slowly. unlike you, he could breathe oxygen for a while. not forever but longer than you could breathe his air.

“i did not think you would look so much like you.” tsu’tey said as you approached. while he sat on the floor, you sat on the bed. jake’s bunk.

you shrugged and shook your head. “ta-da?”

tsu’tey grinned at you even though he did not quite understand what it was that you meant. “ta-da, yes.”

“so…” you smacked your hands on your thighs and exhaled softly. “what do you wanna do?”

“i want to know what tivee is.” tsu’tey said. he looked around the room and tried to pin point what may have been tv. “i heard you tell jake’suli you missed it and i want to see why.”

you shook your head. “i don’t think i should.”

“why not?” tsu’tey asked, his invisible brows drawing together.

“because you may like it too much and start an industrial revolution like the RDA is trying to do.” you said with a soft laugh.

“i do not know what you just said but i want to see tv.” tsu’tey insisted.

you sighed. there was little point in saying no. getting up off of the bed, you walked around him. he turned, being mindful not to knock into anything. he watched as you crouched down to plug in the chord. you pressed the button on the bottom and the screen filled with static.

“it may not even work.” you said over your shoulder.

you flicked through the tapes grace had in box and pulled out the most fitting one. star wars: return of the sith. tsu’tey scooted closer as the movie began. you took a seat beside him and used the remote to turn up the volume. as the opening credits rolled, the music made his ears perk.

“what does it say?” tsu’tey asked, watching the yellow letters roll across the screen. he brought the mask to his mouth and took a deep breath.

you read the preface of the movie to him and did your best to explain what it all meant. you knew it was lost to him but he was fixated anyways— especially when humans appeared on the screen. he was transfixed.

“did you have that?” tsu’tey asked, pointing to the flying car on the screen.

you laughed and shook your head. “at the time this movie came out, flying cars didn’t exist. in my time, i didn’t have enough money.”

he looked down at you.

none of it made sense.

“no,” you said with a small smile. “i didn’t have a flying car.”

he nodded and turned his attention back to the screen. you sat in silence as you watched the movie. every now and again he lifted the mask to his mouth to take a breath. he would ask a question here and there. it amazed him— but he did not understand much of what was said. soon enough, he wasn’t quite seeing the point of a movie.

“why do you watch stuff like this?” he asked.

“for fun.” you said with a small shrug. “humans really value entertainment. star wars is one of the biggest movie series ever. very well loved.”

“do you like this movie?” he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

you gave him your honest answer.

once more, it fell silent between you. you watched the movie with a sense of nostalgia weighing heavy on your heart. this was the first time you’d actually sat and watched anything since you’d arrived on pandora. it was comforting yet so foreign at the same time.

“can i touch your hair?”

you looked up at him, your eyes wide and your cheeks red. you had not expected that question. all you could do was blink.

“sure…” you whispered.

so carefully you weren’t sure if he even touched you, tsu’tey ran his hand over the top of your head. his ears perked and his tail swished against the metal floor.

“soft…” he murmured, purely infatuated. “different than mine. so…thin. like very fine twine strings.”

“well, you are like twelve feet tall.” you said with a small laugh. he could’ve easily crushed you in the palm of his hand if he wanted to. “everything about you is bigger than me.”

“your chest is big.” tsu’tey said, looking down at your breasts.

you couldn’t help but laugh. nodding, you said, “yeah. i told you, human women have bigger chests than na’vi women.”

“can i touch?” he asked, extending a hand towards you.

you were quick to cover your breasts and gawked at him. “no! are you crazy?”

“why not?” tsu’tey asked. he moved closer to you and tilted his head. now more so than ever, he was entirely cat-like. it took looking at him through human eyes to see it. “is it because you are in this body and not your na’vi one?”

“yeah,” you breathed, looking away from him.

he pursed his lips the smallest bit. “can i kiss you?”

“jesus christ, are you in heat or something?” you asked.

“no, not now.” he said. he shrugged and flicked his head towards you. “i am just…curious. i want to kiss you as you and see if it is the same.”

“just a kiss?” you glanced at him.

“just one.” he nodded, sitting on his hands as if to promise you he wouldn’t do anything more than that.

slowly, you pushed yourself up. standing in front of him, you were level enough. your heart raced in your chest as he stared at you. he took in every movement you made. he tensed as you neared and that made you even more nervous.

“this is weird…” you said, pulling back the smallest bit.

“no,” he insisted. he reached out a hand that ghosted along the small curve of your back. “it’s not.”

you swallowed your embarrassment alongside your pride as you leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto his lips.

sparks shot through you from your head to your toes.

when you pulled back, his pupils were so large you could hardly see the yellow of his eyes. his tail smacked into the metal frame of the bunk bed and thumped wildly against the floor. as your cheeks reddened and reddened and reddened his ears perked up and up and up.

“why are you red?” he asked softly.

“i’m flustered…” you whispered.

tsu’tey smiled. “it was good.”

“it was good,” you said with a small, quick nod.

“again?” he asked, leaning forward. “to make sure.”

you couldn’t help but laugh.

he smiled as you reached up and placed your hands on his face. he dipped his head down and kissed you again, softly and sweetly. kisses like these were much different from how he kissed you when you were the same size and same blue shade.

“good,” he purred. his lips curled into a smile as he reached down to pull the mask to his face. he took a few deep breaths. “very good.”

you could only watch him in awe. you sat down in front of him and tried to wipe the blush from your cheeks. of course, it didn’t work. not even a little bit. he hunched over to be more level with you and it made you giggle.

he was just too big.

too large.

too handsome.

he was even more striking to the human eye.

you sat quietly as he picked up your hand and examined your five little fingers. he was intrigued by your pinky. to him, it was an extra pinky. with his four thick fingers, your hand seemed so frail and dainty. he touched the lines of your palm and smiled to himself as you shivered at the sensation.

“it is strange,“ tsu’tey said lowly. “how you are so different and still so the same…i thought it would be hard to recognize you. hard to see you with this face and not that face…but it is not hard.”

you curled your whole hand around his index finger and pulled it close. you placed his hand on your chest. your heart beat below his palm. he met your eyes and his ears perked. it made you smile.

“i see you.” you whispered.

tsu’tey leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours. he smiled to himself, enjoying the way your little heart beat so strong under the tips of his fingers as he neared.

“i see you,” he said like a promise.

this chapter was so much fun to write :P i love soft tsu’tey!!!! hope you guys enjoyed. lmk your thoughts <3 as always, thanks for reading!! — moony

tag list — @plantgirliewholovespandora

[inkbeanjo]

Sorry for being annoying but i have more questions about your OCs. So i am still kinda rotating my overly cybered up shadowrun oc idea in my head and i am wondering, How would Moni, Retro and the others react to someone who is seemingly an outsider but has abilities similar to a technomancer? My diea for my oc was that due to all her cybernetics it has kinda fused her soul with tech and gives her the ability to do stuff like remotely control technology, access the net without a deck, that kind of s tuff, but its also in a very uncontrolled way so she has to deal with like the equvlent of being bombarded with info and ads 24/7 which does not do her mental health any favors and has to rely on software to try and filter all of that out. So how would they react if say during one of their private chat room sessions, my oc unconciously just popped in unannounced, and there is a outsider who by appearance shouldnt be able to do what she is doing, doing what appears to be technomancy, to talk to them?

This splits two ways tbh- like between what shadowrun's setting sets up, and between how neo-a's setting divorces from that if that tracks In shadowrun, while the resonance is something more or less exclusive to technomancers to wield, it's not a space void of non-technomancer influence; the big ten more or less built the matrix on the backs of technos, to the point that host foundations are believed to dip into the resonance's upper layers- moreover a lot of normal people get swept up in resonance/techno bullshit pretty frequently, whether through errant sprites or clinging dissonance/having a slight spark of resonance by being tangled in it so much, or the weirder circumstances of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for a resonance well to form in digital space, sucking you off to god knows where. For the normal person separate from all this, with a wireless-enabled datajack/smartlink/synthetic eyes/really any number of augmentations, one can experience the wonders and hells of controlling the matrix and always-online connections whether they want to or not- so in your character's case and in the shadowrun setting by raw, any of these might be the case. A normal person seeing/interacting with resonance shit is usually the sign of a burgeoning technomancer to-be, but that's just my two cents it's less straightforward in the comic setting Neo-a's based on the games I got to play and co-write with a handful of close friends, but I've put a lot of work into beginning to divorce it from shadowrun- mostly in settling on to-be revealed isms and logical consistencies for how, thematically, a dystopia and universe operate when there's reality-altering magic and weirdass computer-magic that extends beyond the screen (also to be revealed, this's directly after chapter 4 in some ways) The center pillar of neo-a as a setting is that it's Weird- that the universe does not operate in logical or sensical ways, and is quite frankly glaringly flawed to the point that it stutters, breaks, or bleeds out in dysfunctional overlap. It's a reality of unreality layered in intersectional/existential bullshit (we'll get there), and where one or several (or many) people might be convinced that things operate with rhyme and reason in predictable fashion the truth is that those are snippets of understanding at best. There are exceptions across the board and oddities all around that don't fit into the norm of how things should be; "why can this person see/interact with the reverb without being a techno" is a question born out of surprise as likely to get answered as "why does this number keep showing up everywhere in my life"- or on the same train of thought, "why doesn't this person notice that number constantly showing up?" I can't really play my hand too much because I do very much want to show rather than tell in the comic's case (and I will), but the gist is "they're surprised and very cagey" in response to both xwxb

[megamindsecretlair]

It's a Little Warm, Part 2

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some kissing, unresolved tension! Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Mild hurt/comfort. FLUFF. Part 2 of 5. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. You enjoy a round of three-legged racing and football, trying to beat the heat.

Word Count: 3,365k

A/N: Ack, this was cute to write. Not beta'd or barely proof-read. Any mistakes are mine. If you enjoyed it, please let me know! While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to support writers!

Read Part 1 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

“Okay, I think we’re going to start with the three-legged race,” Uncle Sam said. He squatted with a hat on the ground that had little scraps of paper that he wrote different games on. He held two pieces in his hand and studied each one as if he were deciding the fate of the universe.

“Any day now,” Bucky said and smirked. 

Your stomach flipped. So far, you two remained cordial. No one would have suspected that you kissed him just that morning. You twisted your lips. The hell were you thinking? You knew better. He was a friggin’ Avenger. What did you think was going to happen? 

“Man, shut up,” Uncle Sam but his smirk matched Bucky’s. 

Aunt Sarah’s sons, AJ and Cass, ran around the small group chasing each other. You absently watched as they accidentally bumped into Bucky and murmured their apologies. Bucky smiled and waved them off. 

He was sinfully dressed in another pair of jeans and boots and a black T-shirt. The oppressive heat of the early day had nothing on the heat that suffused you looking at the man. His stubble was growing even more and thanks to your wandering hands, you knew exactly how prickly he was.

Bucky licked his lips as he caught you staring. You offered him a soft smile and looked away. You wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t hot. But you got his message loud and clear. Paws off. 

“Okay, three-legged race it is followed by some old-fashioned football. First to six wins so we beat some of the sun,” Uncle Sam said.

Aunt Sarah threw up her hands. “About time,” she said and shook her head. 

“And he calls me old and slow,” Bucky said. 

“Okay, enough of all that. So, to make it even, kinfolk, you’re with Bucky ‘cause you’re short as hell and it’ll put him at a disadvantage. Sarah, you take the baby, ya’ll are the same height. I’ll take Cass because he’s my roadie,” Uncle Sam said, pointing at everyone as he spoke their name.

Immediately, you and Aunt Sarah objected to his short jokes and his reasoning. “Why don’t you take the baby, Captain Birdman?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. Perhaps your romper was the wrong choice today.

You thought you were being cute by wearing an olive green romper. You weren’t trying to rub your goodies in Bucky’s face, it was just that fucking hot. If you so happened to look irresistible, well, that was the Lord blessing you. 

But you thought about crashing and burning all over the neat grass and pinched your lips. You would either get a bad burn, or grass stains all over your outfit. 

“Because pipsqueaks gotta stick together,” Uncle Sam said and laughed at his own joke. 

“I’m not a pipsqueak!” AJ yelled and pushed Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam pretended to fall over and held up his hands as if AJ was the stronger one. “Okay, okay, mercy!” 

“Why don’t the girls stick together, you take the baby, and Bucky gets Cass?” You asked.

“Now kinfolk, I know you’re not suggesting that we play by arbitrary gender norms and stereotypes,” Uncle Sam said. 

“Oh please. What, did you look up those words today?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a word-of-the-day calendar. It’s neat,” Uncle Sam countered.

“I don’t see why I don’t get Bucky, ya’ll team together, and the boys team up together,” Aunt Sarah said with a wink in your direction. Uncle Sam missed it as he frowned. 

“Absolutely not!” He said.

Aunt Sarah smirked and crossed her arms. “It’s either me or her,” Aunt Sarah said.

“Why can’t we team with Mr. Bucky?” AJ asked.

“It’s just Bucky,” Bucky said.

Uncle Sam got on his knee to look AJ in the eyes. “The name of the game is winning at all costs. We gotta play to our strengths. Teaming with Bucky would make you uneven and he’d have to carry you, and that’s cheating. But, pairing you with your mom is perfect,” he explained.

“Do not teach him that!” Aunt Sarah said and laughed. 

“How about you team with AJ, Sarah and Cass, and me and Y/N?” Bucky offered.

Before Uncle Sam could say something, you shook your head. “I still say my configuration was better. Or Aunt Sarah’s,” you said.

Bucky frowned at you but you refused to look at him. Aunt Sarah tilted her head at you as if you were crazy. You smiled at her, pretending not to notice her expression. 

Uncle Sam laughed, ever the clueless idiot. “The sun is only getting hotter, so how about this: I’m going to write some numbers on paper and we all pick. Whoever you get is whoever you get,” he said.

“Even if I’m matched with Bucky?” Aunt Sarah asked.

Uncle Sam scowled but ultimately nodded. “You better not, is all I’m sayin’,” he mumbled. He jogged to the patio table where he plucked the journal and pen off of it. He wrote quickly and tore up the pieces. He returned and dumped the hat that had the games on it. He placed the new pieces of paper in it and mixed them up.

He motioned for everyone to pick and you prayed and prayed. Each person revealed their numbers. Aunt Sarah and Cass matched, Sam got AJ, which left you with…Bucky. You frowned as you stared at your number.

“That’s what I said!” Bucky said. Uncle Sam mumbled about a waste of time and being hot as hell as he put away the slips of paper, hat, and journal. 

Bucky bumped his shoulder against yours. “Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.

You felt your lips move but you weren’t convinced you were smiling. Bucky frowned but you were spared from any questions as Uncle Sam came around with ribbons.

“And don’t your old ass cheat neither!” Uncle Sam said.

“Thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Bucky said innocently. He snatched the ribbon out of Uncle Sam’s hands before you could.

He knelt down and wrapped the ribbon around his leg and then around yours. He tugged a little too hard and you were forced to lean against him, using his shoulders to catch your fall. He looked up at you and your heart beat so fast, you knew he had to hear it.

His eyes were so clear and blue, it was like looking into the ocean. He smirked and as he tied the ribbon, he slowly massaged your calf. You bit your lip to keep from moaning. All he was doing was rubbing it and he already had you ready to make embarrassing noises.

He placed a kiss on your thigh, not breaking eye contact. You gasped as he slowly stood up. He was too tall, way too tall for you. For a brief moment, you panicked. What the hell kind of game was he playing? He kisses you one minute, throws you out the next, and then plays these games? 

“Put your arm around me,” he commanded softly. You already had your hand moving up to circle his waist before your mind caught up to you. You scowled at him. 

He slid his fingers across your shoulders and lightly played with your nape as Uncle Sam explained the rules. You didn’t hear a fucking word. Bucky’s fingers were like magic, easing a mild headache. 

You sighed as he worked his fingers and your mind drifted, imagining he was doing that in bed. 

You worked in perfect sync, stepping together. You giggled as you watched Aunt Sarah in the lead, ahead of Uncle Sam. You didn’t care if you won, you just wanted Captain Superman to lose. No, that’s not it. Captain Planet. You snickered as you raced to the finish line. 

“Go!” Uncle Sam called out. The three pairs took off half stumbling, half wiggling as you tried to get to the treeline. Bucky, being superhuman, did most of the work for you even with holding back. His grip was tight around you and you clung to his shirt trying to keep up.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky asked.

You shook your head as you laughed harder. You imagined Uncle Sam in blue paint, green hair, and spandex. 

Aunt Sarah got to the tree first, followed by you, and then Uncle Sam. Aunt Sarah gloated and rubbed it in Uncle Sam’s face. He took the jokes in stride, sweat gathering on his head.

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see how tough you are when we get into this game. Pipsqueak, come help me set up the goals,” he said. He untied him and AJ, the latter playfully hitting his side for calling him pipsqueak. 

“Come on, let’s get water for everyone,” Aunt Sarah said to Cass. She freed them as Bucky bent down to untie you.

“I’ll help!” You shouted. You winced at your tone. Aunt Sarah widened her eyes and nodded to Bucky. You mouthed “no”. Aunt Sarah mouthed, “why not?” 

Bucky nipped your leg under pretense of having trouble with the knot he tied. You yelped and looked down at him. The smug bastard.

“Me and Cass, got it,” Aunt Sarah announced and scurried away before you could object more.

Bucky finally stood up and pulled you by your romper until you were closer to the tree. “I’m not a child,” you said and slapped his hand away.

“You’re acting like one,” he said.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

Bucky rubbed his chin and stretched out his neck. “What’s going on with you? You barely said anything to me today. And what was that thing earlier?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. You took a few deep breaths. “I’m just following your lead.”

Bucky scrunched up his face in the most adorable way. He tilted his head like a puppy and you fought the urge to scratch his head like one. You crossed your arms. Stupid, traitorous thoughts.

He licked his lips and looked down his nose at you. You silently sighed. You were so feral for this man, it wasn’t fair. In a minute, you’d have to go inside to change your panties. 

“What lead, Y/N?” He asked.

“You…this morning,” you waved your hands. Did you really have to spell it out? He crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

“I threw myself at you and you told me to go upstairs. I thought…I mean, we’ve only known each other a day. I get it,” you said.

“You didn’t throw yourself at me. I kissed you back, remember?” He asked.

“Then why’d you make me go upstairs?” You asked.

“Did you really want to start screaming where everyone could hear you? Had we kept going, I would’ve bent you over the table,” he said.

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. The image flashed through your mind. You pictured him sliding up your shirt, shoving your panties aside, whipping out his dick over the waistband of his pants before sliding into you. With his strength, he would’ve gripped your thighs with the pressure you like. As if he were holding on for dear life.

You shook your head and cleared your throat. “Don’t…” you started, but don’t what?

Say things like that? Give you hope? You had tossed and turned all night reliving the kiss, the feel of his hands on you, and his stubble against your face. You imagined that he was sleeping like a baby across the hall, not concerned that he put you in knots.

“I ran through every single excuse not to run upstairs after you,” he said.

“Okay, let’s hear them then,” you said.

Bucky smirked. “Now?” He asked.

You looked to the side to watch Uncle Sam setting up posts with AJ. He had two set up and was working on the third. Aunt Sarah was by the cooler, picking out two water bottles and making Cass drink one.

“Uncle Sam’s gonna be done any minute now,” you said.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. He stepped closer to you. “You’re Sam’s niece,” he said.

“Play-niece. We’re not blood related,” you corrected.

“He’ll kill me,” he said.

“Captain Save-a-Ho wouldn’t hurt a fly,” you said.

“You’re younger than me,” he said. He sighed and he looked so weary.

“By a couple of years, big deal. We’re adults.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“No, I’m really older than you,” he said.

You stepped closer to him. “You were frozen for some of that. And I don’t see any wrinkles or…too much gray hair,” you said. You got on your tip-toes, pretending to look for gray hairs. 

“Smart ass. I’m old fashioned,” he said.

“I’ve got an old soul,” you countered.

He shook his head and squinted at you. “You’re not making this easy,” he said.

“You’re the one who started kissing my thigh!” 

You moved to push him away but he captured your hand and held it against his chest. “I don’t like when you ignore me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t ignore you,” you said. “I gave you an out. We can just stay friends.” 

“We could. But I’m pretty sure the thoughts I have with you in that outfit are not friendly,” he said.

You blinked up at him. This was so far from what you imagined today to be like. You swore he would ignore you, treat you like glass, or worse…start treating you like Sam’s kid sister. Completely untouchable and unfuckable. Your heart raced as he stared you down. You could almost see those unholy thoughts.

He had you at a loss. Because you were mirroring those same nasty thoughts. 

“Who’s ready to get spanked at football!” Uncle Sam called.

You bit your lip as you looked at Bucky. You leaned up and kissed him before licking his nose. “Come get spanked,” you said before moving out from under the tree.

Got damn, how was it so hot this early? You fanned yourself as you crossed the backyard. “You’re the one who’s gonna get a cherry red ass if you keep playing with me,” he said. He kept walking as you stopped and gaped at him.

Your pussy throbbed imagining bending over his knee as he spanked you. The heat seemed to double as you stood there.

“Come on, kinfolk!” Uncle Sam called to you.

You joined everyone else and Aunt Sarah hip bumped you. As Uncle Sam passed out the slips of paper, Cass passed you a water bottle. You held it to your head. You snuck a glance at Bucky. He smirked as he lifted the bottle and nearly drained it in one gulp. His Adam's apple bobbed as he did so and you pictured licking his neck.

“Saw that,” Aunt Sarah sang. You cleared your throat and looked at her. “You’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said.

Aunt Sarah laughed. “I’m just helping you both out. You’re both so clueless, it’s actually painful to watch,” she said.

“Shut up,” you said and laughed, drinking your own bottle. You could do something obscene with it, but there were children present.

You picked your numbers again. You were on a team with Aunt Sarah and Cass. Uncle Sam, Bucky, and AJ were on a team. 

As the sun started to bare down, you all agreed to keep teasing to a minimum as you set up for playing. Without fail, Bucky ended up guarding you whenever you had the ball. His competitive ass wouldn’t let you get around him. 

Cass snuck up behind him and grabbed him, telling you to go. You ran and ran to the goal line and scored. Your team celebrated as Bucky pretended to fuss.

You set up against each other again. Uncle Sam hiked the ball to AJ and Bucky picked him up and ran with him to the goal post. “That’s cheating!” You and Aunt Sarah called out.

“Is it? He got the ball across, looks fair to me,” Uncle Sam shrugged.

You had the ball on the next play. You faked Bucky out, making him stumble. You ran for the goal line. You saw it in front of you and started to get giddy. You actually did it!

Until, you were plucked off the ground, spun, and then knocked gently to the ground with Bucky cushioning your fall. 

“Oh, that’s so not fair,” you laughed. 

Bucky held your hips and smiled at you. “Oh, you have no idea how unfair I can get,” he said.

You slapped his shoulder before standing up too fast. The world tilted as your eyes rolled and your head grew fuzzy.

“Y/N?” Bucky caught you in his arms. You held just enough strength to keep from slipping on your ass in front of everyone.

Soon, everyone crowded around you asking questions. “I’m fine,” you panted.

You waved them away and tried to get out of Bucky’s arms. But he tightened his hold. 

“It’s low iron. I promise, I’m fine,” you said. Bucky cupped your cheek and moved your head side to side gently. “Are you sure?” 

“This is so embarrassing. I promise I’m fine,” you said. 

“Where’s your pills? When did you last take one?” Uncle Sam demanded.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you said. You apologized to the kids for ruining their day.

“Get in the shade and cool off. You’re in the lead anyway,” he said and waved his hand.

You were about to protest when Bucky scooped you into his arms and started walking towards the house.

“Put me down!” You shrieked. You held on to his neck and he walked you into the house, without so much as a grunt. You were too far off the ground. What if you fell? What if he fell? What if he decided you were too heavy and let you fall?

Once inside, he kicked out the nearest chair with his boot and placed you on it.

“You can’t carry me like that!” You yelled.

“Where’s your pills?” He asked.

You twisted your lips. You opened it to claim that you were a big girl and therefore too heavy for him. But then remembered the serum and nearly laughed. But Bucky wasn’t in the mood for laughing.

“Stubborn doesn’t work on me, doll,” he said. 

You sighed and deflated. “On my dresser,” you relented.

Bucky disappeared upstairs and came back down in record time. He handed you your iron supplement and then a bottle of water. 

“Did you skip this today?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Might’ve been…a week?” You asked.

“A week!” Bucky yelled.

“If I eat meals with iron in it, I’m usually fine. We had so much damn red meat yesterday, I’m pretty sure I had meat sweats,” you said and shivered, attempting to lighten up the mood.

“Let me get this straight. You don’t like people doing things for you and you don’t like taking care of yourself? Pick a struggle,” he said.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. You knew he didn’t mean it as a joke but he had been hanging around Black folk for way too long.

Bucky knelt beside you and grabbed your hands. “Hey, this is serious. Iron deficiency is serious,” he said.

You sobered up and looked at him, really looked at him. He was…scared for you? You immediately wanted to shut that thought down, but how else could you explain his behavior?

“I promise I’ll do better. Sometimes I can’t always tell when my iron is low,” you said.

Bucky nodded and blew out a breath. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked.

He smirked. “Oh, doll,” he said. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek. You tilted your head into his hand, loving it. 

“You need to keep your strength up for things I’m going to do to you,” he said.

You made a strangled noise and Bucky laughed. He leaned up and pressed his lips against yours. He was so warm, it was a stark contrast from the ice cold water you drank. He licked the seam of your lips before slowly pushing inside.

He kissed you slowly, reverently. When he pulled back, he winked. “Come on. The fun is just getting started.”

Read Part 1 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

[megamindslair]

It's a Little Warm, Part 2

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some kissing, unresolved tension! Bucky x Blackfem!reader. Plus Size Reader. Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Mild hurt/comfort. FLUFF. Part 2 of ?, I don't know how long this will take to wrap up. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. You enjoy a round of three-legged racing and football, trying to beat the heat.

Word Count: 3,365k

Read Part 1

A/N: Ack, this was cute to write. Not beta'd or barely proof-read. Any mistakes are mine. If you enjoyed it, please let me know! While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging to support writers!

“Okay, I think we’re going to start with the three-legged race,” Uncle Sam said. He squatted with a hat on the ground that had little scraps of paper that he wrote different games on. He held two pieces in his hand and studied each one as if he were deciding the fate of the universe.

“Any day now,” Bucky said and smirked. 

Your stomach flipped. So far, you two remained cordial. No one would have suspected that you kissed him just that morning. You twisted your lips. The hell were you thinking? You knew better. He was a friggin’ Avenger. What did you think was going to happen? 

“Man, shut up,” Uncle Sam but his smirk matched Bucky’s. 

Aunt Sarah’s sons, AJ and Cass, ran around the small group chasing each other. You absently watched as they accidentally bumped into Bucky and murmured their apologies. Bucky smiled and waved them off. 

He was sinfully dressed in another pair of jeans and boots and a black T-shirt. The oppressive heat of the early day had nothing on the heat that suffused you looking at the man. His stubble was growing even more and thanks to your wandering hands, you knew exactly how prickly he was.

Bucky licked his lips as he caught you staring. You offered him a soft smile and looked away. You wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t hot. But you got his message loud and clear. Paws off. 

“Okay, three-legged race it is followed by some old-fashioned football. First to six wins so we beat some of the sun,” Uncle Sam said.

Aunt Sarah threw up her hands. “About time,” she said and shook her head. 

“And he calls me old and slow,” Bucky said. 

“Okay, enough of all that. So, to make it even, kinfolk, you’re with Bucky ‘cause you’re short as hell and it’ll put him at a disadvantage. Sarah, you take the baby, ya’ll are the same height. I’ll take Cass because he’s my roadie,” Uncle Sam said, pointing at everyone as he spoke their name.

Immediately, you and Aunt Sarah objected to his short jokes and his reasoning. “Why don’t you take the baby, Captain Birdman?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. Perhaps your romper was the wrong choice today.

You thought you were being cute by wearing an olive green romper. You weren’t trying to rub your goodies in Bucky’s face, it was just that fucking hot. If you so happened to look irresistible, well, that was the Lord blessing you. 

But you thought about crashing and burning all over the neat grass and pinched your lips. You would either get a bad burn, or grass stains all over your outfit. 

“Because pipsqueaks gotta stick together,” Uncle Sam said and laughed at his own joke. 

“I’m not a pipsqueak!” AJ yelled and pushed Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam pretended to fall over and held up his hands as if AJ was the stronger one. “Okay, okay, mercy!” 

“Why don’t the girls stick together, you take the baby, and Bucky gets Cass?” You asked.

“Now kinfolk, I know you’re not suggesting that we play by arbitrary gender norms and stereotypes,” Uncle Sam said. 

“Oh please. What, did you look up those words today?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a word-of-the-day calendar. It’s neat,” Uncle Sam countered.

“I don’t see why I don’t get Bucky, ya’ll team together, and the boys team up together,” Aunt Sarah said with a wink in your direction. Uncle Sam missed it as he frowned. 

“Absolutely not!” He said.

Aunt Sarah smirked and crossed her arms. “It’s either me or her,” Aunt Sarah said.

“Why can’t we team with Mr. Bucky?” AJ asked.

“It’s just Bucky,” Bucky said.

Uncle Sam got on his knee to look AJ in the eyes. “The name of the game is winning at all costs. We gotta play to our strengths. Teaming with Bucky would make you uneven and he’d have to carry you, and that’s cheating. But, pairing you with your mom is perfect,” he explained.

“Do not teach him that!” Aunt Sarah said and laughed. 

“How about you team with AJ, Sarah and Cass, and me and Y/N?” Bucky offered.

Before Uncle Sam could say something, you shook your head. “I still say my configuration was better. Or Aunt Sarah’s,” you said.

Bucky frowned at you but you refused to look at him. Aunt Sarah tilted her head at you as if you were crazy. You smiled at her, pretending not to notice her expression. 

Uncle Sam laughed, ever the clueless idiot. “The sun is only getting hotter, so how about this: I’m going to write some numbers on paper and we all pick. Whoever you get is whoever you get,” he said.

“Even if I’m matched with Bucky?” Aunt Sarah asked.

Uncle Sam scowled but ultimately nodded. “You better not, is all I’m sayin’,” he mumbled. He jogged to the patio table where he plucked the journal and pen off of it. He wrote quickly and tore up the pieces. He returned and dumped the hat that had the games on it. He placed the new pieces of paper in it and mixed them up.

He motioned for everyone to pick and you prayed and prayed. Each person revealed their numbers. Aunt Sarah and Cass matched, Sam got AJ, which left you with…Bucky. You frowned as you stared at your number.

“That’s what I said!” Bucky said. Uncle Sam mumbled about a waste of time and being hot as hell as he put away the slips of paper, hat, and journal. 

Bucky bumped his shoulder against yours. “Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.

You felt your lips move but you weren’t convinced you were smiling. Bucky frowned but you were spared from any questions as Uncle Sam came around with ribbons.

“And don’t your old ass cheat neither!” Uncle Sam said.

“Thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Bucky said innocently. He snatched the ribbon out of Uncle Sam’s hands before you could.

He knelt down and wrapped the ribbon around his leg and then around yours. He tugged a little too hard and you were forced to lean against him, using his shoulders to catch your fall. He looked up at you and your heart beat so fast, you knew he had to hear it.

His eyes were so clear and blue, it was like looking into the ocean. He smirked and as he tied the ribbon, he slowly massaged your calf. You bit your lip to keep from moaning. All he was doing was rubbing it and he already had you ready to make embarrassing noises.

He placed a kiss on your thigh, not breaking eye contact. You gasped as he slowly stood up. He was too tall, way too tall for you. For a brief moment, you panicked. What the hell kind of game was he playing? He kisses you one minute, throws you out the next, and then plays these games? 

“Put your arm around me,” he commanded softly. You already had your hand moving up to circle his waist before your mind caught up to you. You scowled at him. 

He slid his fingers across your shoulders and lightly played with your nape as Uncle Sam explained the rules. You didn’t hear a fucking word. Bucky’s fingers were like magic, easing a mild headache. 

You sighed as he worked his fingers and your mind drifted, imagining he was doing that in bed. 

You worked in perfect sync, stepping together. You giggled as you watched Aunt Sarah in the lead, ahead of Uncle Sam. You didn’t care if you won, you just wanted Captain Superman to lose. No, that’s not it. Captain Planet. You snickered as you raced to the finish line. 

“Go!” Uncle Sam called out. The three pairs took off half stumbling, half wiggling as you tried to get to the treeline. Bucky, being superhuman, did most of the work for you even with holding back. His grip was tight around you and you clung to his shirt trying to keep up.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky asked.

You shook your head as you laughed harder. You imagined Uncle Sam in blue paint, green hair, and spandex. 

Aunt Sarah got to the tree first, followed by you, and then Uncle Sam. Aunt Sarah gloated and rubbed it in Uncle Sam’s face. He took the jokes in stride, sweat gathering on his head.

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see how tough you are when we get into this game. Pipsqueak, come help me set up the goals,” he said. He untied him and AJ, the latter playfully hitting his side for calling him pipsqueak. 

“Come on, let’s get water for everyone,” Aunt Sarah said to Cass. She freed them as Bucky bent down to untie you.

“I’ll help!” You shouted. You winced at your tone. Aunt Sarah widened her eyes and nodded to Bucky. You mouthed “no”. Aunt Sarah mouthed, “why not?” 

Bucky nipped your leg under pretense of having trouble with the knot he tied. You yelped and looked down at him. The smug bastard.

“Me and Cass, got it,” Aunt Sarah announced and scurried away before you could object more.

Bucky finally stood up and pulled you by your romper until you were closer to the tree. “I’m not a child,” you said and slapped his hand away.

“You’re acting like one,” he said.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

Bucky rubbed his chin and stretched out his neck. “What’s going on with you? You barely said anything to me today. And what was that thing earlier?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. You took a few deep breaths. “I’m just following your lead.”

Bucky scrunched up his face in the most adorable way. He tilted his head like a puppy and you fought the urge to scratch his head like one. You crossed your arms. Stupid, traitorous thoughts.

He licked his lips and looked down his nose at you. You silently sighed. You were so feral for this man, it wasn’t fair. In a minute, you’d have to go inside to change your panties. 

“What lead, Y/N?” He asked.

“You…this morning,” you waved your hands. Did you really have to spell it out? He crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

“I threw myself at you and you told me to go upstairs. I thought…I mean, we’ve only known each other a day. I get it,” you said.

“You didn’t throw yourself at me. I kissed you back, remember?” He asked.

“Then why’d you make me go upstairs?” You asked.

“Did you really want to start screaming where everyone could hear you? Had we kept going, I would’ve bent you over the table,” he said.

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. The image flashed through your mind. You pictured him sliding up your shirt, shoving your panties aside, whipping out his dick over the waistband of his pants before sliding into you. With his strength, he would’ve gripped your thighs with the pressure you like. As if he were holding on for dear life.

You shook your head and cleared your throat. “Don’t…” you started, but don’t what?

Say things like that? Give you hope? You had tossed and turned all night reliving the kiss, the feel of his hands on you, and his stubble against your face. You imagined that he was sleeping like a baby across the hall, not concerned that he put you in knots.

“I ran through every single excuse not to run upstairs after you,” he said.

“Okay, let’s hear them then,” you said.

Bucky smirked. “Now?” He asked.

You looked to the side to watch Uncle Sam setting up posts with AJ. He had two set up and was working on the third. Aunt Sarah was by the cooler, picking out two water bottles and making Cass drink one.

“Uncle Sam’s gonna be done any minute now,” you said.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. He stepped closer to you. “You’re Sam’s niece,” he said.

“Play-niece. We’re not blood related,” you corrected.

“He’ll kill me,” he said.

“Captain Save-a-Ho wouldn’t hurt a fly,” you said.

“You’re younger than me,” he said. He sighed and he looked so weary.

“By a couple of years, big deal. We’re adults.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“No, I’m really older than you,” he said.

You stepped closer to him. “You were frozen for some of that. And I don’t see any wrinkles or…too much gray hair,” you said. You got on your tip-toes, pretending to look for gray hairs. 

“Smart ass. I’m old fashioned,” he said.

“I’ve got an old soul,” you countered.

He shook his head and squinted at you. “You’re not making this easy,” he said.

“You’re the one who started kissing my thigh!” 

You moved to push him away but he captured your hand and held it against his chest. “I don’t like when you ignore me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t ignore you,” you said. “I gave you an out. We can just stay friends.” 

“We could. But I’m pretty sure the thoughts I have with you in that outfit are not friendly,” he said.

You blinked up at him. This was so far from what you imagined today to be like. You swore he would ignore you, treat you like glass, or worse…start treating you like Sam’s kid sister. Completely untouchable and unfuckable. Your heart raced as he stared you down. You could almost see those unholy thoughts.

He had you at a loss. Because you were mirroring those same nasty thoughts. 

“Who’s ready to get spanked at football!” Uncle Sam called.

You bit your lip as you looked at Bucky. You leaned up and kissed him before licking his nose. “Come get spanked,” you said before moving out from under the tree.

Got damn, how was it so hot this early? You fanned yourself as you crossed the backyard. “You’re the one who’s gonna get a cherry red ass if you keep playing with me,” he said. He kept walking as you stopped and gaped at him.

Your pussy throbbed imagining bending over his knee as he spanked you. The heat seemed to double as you stood there.

“Come on, kinfolk!” Uncle Sam called to you.

You joined everyone else and Aunt Sarah hip bumped you. As Uncle Sam passed out the slips of paper, Cass passed you a water bottle. You held it to your head. You snuck a glance at Bucky. He smirked as he lifted the bottle and nearly drained it in one gulp. His Adam's apple bobbed as he did so and you pictured licking his neck.

“Saw that,” Aunt Sarah sang. You cleared your throat and looked at her. “You’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said.

Aunt Sarah laughed. “I’m just helping you both out. You’re both so clueless, it’s actually painful to watch,” she said.

“Shut up,” you said and laughed, drinking your own bottle. You could do something obscene with it, but there were children present.

You picked your numbers again. You were on a team with Aunt Sarah and Cass. Uncle Sam, Bucky, and AJ were on a team. 

As the sun started to bare down, you all agreed to keep teasing to a minimum as you set up for playing. Without fail, Bucky ended up guarding you whenever you had the ball. His competitive ass wouldn’t let you get around him. 

Cass snuck up behind him and grabbed him, telling you to go. You ran and ran to the goal line and scored. Your team celebrated as Bucky pretended to fuss.

You set up against each other again. Uncle Sam hiked the ball to AJ and Bucky picked him up and ran with him to the goal post. “That’s cheating!” You and Aunt Sarah called out.

“Is it? He got the ball across, looks fair to me,” Uncle Sam shrugged.

You had the ball on the next play. You faked Bucky out, making him stumble. You ran for the goal line. You saw it in front of you and started to get giddy. You actually did it!

Until, you were plucked off the ground, spun, and then knocked gently to the ground with Bucky cushioning your fall. 

“Oh, that’s so not fair,” you laughed. 

Bucky held your hips and smiled at you. “Oh, you have no idea how unfair I can get,” he said.

You slapped his shoulder before standing up too fast. The world tilted as your eyes rolled and your head grew fuzzy.

“Y/N?” Bucky caught you in his arms. You held just enough strength to keep from slipping on your ass in front of everyone.

Soon, everyone crowded around you asking questions. “I’m fine,” you panted.

You waved them away and tried to get out of Bucky’s arms. But he tightened his hold. 

“It’s low iron. I promise, I’m fine,” you said. Bucky cupped your cheek and moved your head side to side gently. “Are you sure?” 

“This is so embarrassing. I promise I’m fine,” you said. 

“Where’s your pills? When did you last take one?” Uncle Sam demanded.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you said. You apologized to the kids for ruining their day.

“Get in the shade and cool off. You’re in the lead anyway,” he said and waved his hand.

You were about to protest when Bucky scooped you into his arms and started walking towards the house.

“Put me down!” You shrieked. You held on to his neck and he walked you into the house, without so much as a grunt. You were too far off the ground. What if you fell? What if he fell? What if he decided you were too heavy and let you fall?

Once inside, he kicked out the nearest chair with his boot and placed you on it.

“You can’t carry me like that!” You yelled.

“Where’s your pills?” He asked.

You twisted your lips. You opened it to claim that you were a big girl and therefore too heavy for him. But then remembered the serum and nearly laughed. But Bucky wasn’t in the mood for laughing.

“Stubborn doesn’t work on me, doll,” he said. 

You sighed and deflated. “On my dresser,” you relented.

Bucky disappeared upstairs and came back down in record time. He handed you your iron supplement and then a bottle of water. 

“Did you skip this today?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Might’ve been…a week?” You asked.

“A week!” Bucky yelled.

“If I eat meals with iron in it, I’m usually fine. We had so much damn red meat yesterday, I’m pretty sure I had meat sweats,” you said and shivered, attempting to lighten up the mood.

“Let me get this straight. You don’t like people doing things for you and you don’t like taking care of yourself? Pick a struggle,” he said.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. You knew he didn’t mean it as a joke but he had been hanging around Black folk for way too long.

Bucky knelt beside you and grabbed your hands. “Hey, this is serious. Iron deficiency is serious,” he said.

You sobered up and looked at him, really looked at him. He was…scared for you? You immediately wanted to shut that thought down, but how else could you explain his behavior?

“I promise I’ll do better. Sometimes I can’t always tell when my iron is low,” you said.

Bucky nodded and blew out a breath. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked.

He smirked. “Oh, doll,” he said. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek. You tilted your head into his hand, loving it. 

“You need to keep your strength up for things I’m going to do to you,” he said.

You made a strangled noise and Bucky laughed. He leaned up and pressed his lips against yours. He was so warm, it was a stark contrast from the ice cold water you drank. He licked the seam of your lips before slowly pushing inside.

He kissed you slowly, reverently. When he pulled back, he winked. “Come on. The fun is just getting started.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Julian Adorney and Mark Johnson

Published: Jun 10, 2024

There’s a sense that the liberal order is eroding.

What do we mean by that? By “liberal order” we mean three things: political liberalism, economic liberalism, and epistemic liberalism.

Politically, it’s tough to shake the sense that we’re drifting away from our liberal roots. Fringes on both sides are rejecting the liberal principle that all human beings are created equal and that our differences are dwarfed by our shared humanity. On the left, prominent activists are endorsing the idea that people with different immutable characteristics (race, gender, etc.) have different intrinsic worth. For instance, in 2021, Yale University’s Child Study Center hosted a psychiatrist who gave a speech titled, “The Psychopathic Problem of the White Mind,” where she compared white people to “a demented violent predator who thinks they are a saint or a superhero.” In response to Hamas’ brutal attack on Israeli civilians on October 7, Yale professor Zareena Grewal tweeted, “Settlers are not civilians. This is not hard.” Across the political aisle, Dilbert comic creator Scott Adams called black Americans a “hate group” whom white Americans should “get the hell away from.”

If a core component of political liberalism is that all human beings are created equal, then many prominent voices are pushing us rapidly toward an illiberal worldview where one’s worth is determined by immutable characteristics. 

Increasingly, members of both parties seek to change liberal institutions to lock the opposition out of power. Their apparent goal is to undermine a key outcome of political liberalism: a peaceful and regular transfer of power between large and well-represented factions. On the right, prominent Republicans have refused to concede Trump’s loss in 2020, and many are refusing to commit to certifying the 2024 election should Trump lose again. “At the end of the day, the 47th president of the United States will be President Donald Trump,” Senator Tim Scott (R-SC) said in response to repeated questions about whether or not he would accept the election results. On the left, prominent Democrats advocate for abolishing the Electoral College, partly on the grounds that it favors Republicans; and for splitting California into multiple states to gain more blue Senate seats. Senators Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) and Tina Smith (D-MN), among others, have called for expanding the Supreme Court explicitly so they can pack it with Democrats.

This disdain for democratic norms isn’t limited to political elites on right or left; it is permeating the general populace. According to a 2023 poll, only 54 percent of young Americans (aged 18-29) agree with the statement, “Democracy is the greatest form of government.”

Economic liberalism is also under attack. In 2022, Pew found that only 57 percent of the public had a favorable view of capitalism. Those numbers are even worse among young Americans; only 40 percent among those aged 18-29 had a positive view of capitalism. By contrast, 44 percent of the same age group reported having a positive view of socialism. Faced with the choice of which system we should live under, it’s unclear whether young Americans would prefer economic liberalism over the command-and-control systems of socialism or communism. And while young people typically hold more left-of-center views and often become more conservative as they age, the intensity of young peoples’ opposition to capitalism should not be discounted. From 2010 to 2018, a separate Gallup poll found that the number of young Americans (aged 18-29) with a positive view of capitalism dropped by 23 percent. 

Epistemic liberalism is on the ropes too. As the Harper’s Letter warned, “The free exchange of information and ideas, the lifeblood of a liberal society, is daily becoming more constricted.” In recent years, even prominent intellectuals have been terrified of being canceled for daring to write outside of the lines set by a new and predominantly left-wing orthodoxy, adversely affecting out discourse. Again, this disdain for liberalism is more acute among young people: a 2019 survey found that 41 percent of young Americans didn’t believe that the First Amendment should protect hate speech. Furthermore, a full majority (51 percent) of college students considered it “sometimes” or “always acceptable” to “shout down speakers or try to prevent them from talking.”

As Jonathan Rauch argues in The Constitution of Knowledge, a necessary precondition of epistemic liberalism is that everyone should be allowed to speak freely, a precondition increasingly unmet in recent years.

In their book Is Everyone Really Equal?, Robin DiAngelo (of White Fragility fame) and Özlem Sensoy even challenge the foundation of epistemic liberalism itself: the scientific method. This method mandates that hypotheses be tested against reality before acceptance. “Critical Theory developed in part as a response to this presumed infallibility of scientific method,” they write “and raised questions about whose rationality and whose presumed objectivity underlies scientific methods.” Of course, once we jettison the principle that ideas should be tested by holding them up to reality, all we have left are mythologies and accusations. One of the great triumphs of the Enlightenment was giving us the scientific tools to more accurately understand the world, but those tools—like other facets of liberalism—are increasingly under attack.

So, what went wrong? Why do so many Americans, particularly young Americans, harbor such disdain for our liberal order? Why have we seen the rise of widespread social censorship, and why do books telling us that not all humans are created equal become mega-bestsellers? We believe a key reason is that too many proponents of the liberal order (ourselves included) have failed to defend our ideals vigorously. In the face of our complacency, a small but impassioned minority intent on dismantling the pillars of liberalism has been gaining ground, both within institutions and within the hearts and minds of the younger generation.

Why haven’t many of us stood up for our ideas? We posit two reasons. First, there is a sense of complacency: a lot of us look at illiberalism and think, “It can't happen here.” The United States was founded as an essentially liberal country. We were the first country to really seek to embody Enlightenment ideals (however imperfectly) from our birth. Throughout our 250-year history, despite fluctuating levels of government intervention in Americans' social and economic lives, we have never lost our political, economic, or epistemological liberal foundations. This long track record of resilience has led many of us to overlook the rising threat of illiberal ideals, assuming our liberal system is too robust to be torn down.

Adding to this complacency is the fact that many threats to our liberal social contract are largely invisible to those outside educational or academic circles. Cloaked in the guise of combating racism, Critical Race Theory takes aim at the liberal order; however, most people who haven’t been inside the halls of a university in the last 10 or so years may not be aware of this aspect. Critical Theory—including Critical Race Theory, Queer Theory, Post-Colonial Theory, and others—generally opposes Enlightenment thinking, but its arguments are wrapped in jargon and mostly live in academic papers. For example, the book Is Everyone Really Equal? criticizes political, economic, and epistemic liberalism, but it’s not a mainstream bestseller; instead, it’s a widely-used textbook for prospective teachers. What begins in the academy often seeps out into schools and eventually permeates the broader society, and many teachers and professors of these ideologies explicitly describe themselves as activists or as scholar-activists whose goal is to turn the next generation onto these ideas. The threat is real, but the more anti-liberal facets of these ideologies aren’t exactly being shouted by CNN, which makes it easy to miss.

Second, as humans, we often abandon our ideals in the face of social pressure. Consider an organization consisting of ten people: one progressive and nine moderates. In 2020, each member starts to hear about Black Lives Matter (BLM). The progressive enthusiastically supports BLM, and loudly encourages his colleagues to do the same. What happens next illustrates how prone we are to jettison our ideals if doing so brings social rewards.

The first moderate faces a choice. He could thoroughly research BLM by investigating police violence nationwide, examining the evidence of systemic racism or system-wide equality, exploring BLM’s proposed program and what they actually advocate for, and making an informed decision about whether or not he supports the organization. But that’s a lot of work for not a lot of return. After all, his job doesn’t require that he understand BLM; the only immediate consequence is his colleague’s opinion of him. Consequently, he engages in what Nobel Prize winning economist Daniel Kahneman calls “substitution.” As Kahneman explains in Thinking, Fast and Slow, “when faced with a difficult question, we often answer an easier one instead, usually without noticing the substitution.” For example, when participants were asked how much money Exxon should pay for nets to prevent birds from drowning in oil ponds, they did not perform an economic calculation. Instead, what drove their decision-making process was emotion: “the awful image of a helpless bird drowning, its feathers soaked in thick oil.”

Thus, the moderate engages in substitution. Instead of tackling the complex and difficult question “What do I think of BLM?” he asks himself an easier but more emotional question: “How much do I care about black people?” For any decent person, the answer is “quite a lot”—and so he signs on with his progressive colleague. The fact that he’s now supporting an illiberal ideology—one of BLM’s co-founders said in 2019 that “I believe we all have work to do to keep dismantling the organizing principle of this society"—never occurs to him.

When the next moderate is asked the same question about whether he supports BLM, he has the same incentive as his colleague to engage in substitution, but with added social pressure: now two of his nine coworkers support BLM, and he risks losing social capital if he does not. As humans, we are social animals. Sociologist Brooke Harrington explains that we often value others’ perception of us more than our own survival, as social ostracism in our distant past often meant death anyway. As she puts it, “social death is more frightening than physical death.” And so, motivated by the social rewards for supporting BLM and the fear of social punishment if he does not, one coworker after another agrees to support BLM.

Adding to our social calculus is the fact that we all want to be seen as (and, even more importantly, see ourselves as) empathetic. In the example of BLM, we don’t want to be perceived as racists. If this means going along with an organization that says that police “cannot [be] reform[ed]” because they were “born out of slave patrols,” then that’s a small price to pay. This same desire to be seen as empathetic (again, especially by ourselves) holds when we are called to cancel a professor for saying something insensitive, or to condemn cultural appropriation, or to read and praise books and articles claiming that liberalism has failed marginalized people and that a new, totalitarian system is necessary for their salvation.

But why shouldn’t we be complacent? Why shouldn’t we go along to get along, and let our values bend here and there so we can fit in with the new illiberal crowd? One reason is that the stakes are no longer trivial. There is nothing magical about the liberal order that guarantees it will always triumph. History shows us that liberalism can give way to totalitarianism, as it did in Nazi Germany; or to empire, as in ancient Rome. In England, new rules regulate what people are allowed to say, with citizens facing fines or imprisonment for saying something the political establishment does not like. In Canada, a new bill supported by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau would criminalize speech that those in power consider hateful. The United States is not immune to these dangers. Our Constitution alone is not a sufficient defense, because laws are downstream from culture. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights can be interpreted by illiberal justices (and have been in the 20th century); and when this happens, our rights can erode very rapidly indeed. Our freedom is sustained not by our geography or even our founding documents, but by our willingness to fight for liberalism—to defend it in the court of public opinion.

If we’re going to preserve the freedoms we cherish, that is what it will take. We must find the courage to stand up for our ideals—to speak and act based on principle alone. We must be open to new evidence that might change our views, but at the same time resist having our minds changed for us. We must prioritize truth over popular opinion.

In essence, we must think and act more like August Landmesser.

[ Source: The Lone German Man Who Refused to Give Hitler the Nazi Salute (businessinsider.com) ]

--

About the Authors

Julian Adorney is the founder of Heal the West, a Substack movement dedicated to preserving our liberal social contract. He’s also a writer for the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism (FAIR). Find him on X: @Julian_Liberty.

Mark Johnson is a trusted advisor and executive coach at Pioneering Leadership and a facilitator and coach at The Undaunted Man. He has over 25 years of experience optimizing people and companies—he writes at The Undaunted Man’s Substack and Universal Principles.

==

Whatever its flaws, every alternative to liberalism is a nightmare.

[sungbeam]

HII DUCKIEE !! OMG CONGRATS ON 300 >< may i request lee donghyuck + "many have tried to date me, and have failed" + "they know we've been dating for years right?" + "excuse me, i have to go make a scene" + fluff / crack <3

[𝟑:𝟎𝟐𝐏𝐌] — nonidol!lee donghyuck x reader

0.8k words, like two swear words, reader has fem pronouns, fluff, haechan type of crack, haechan's friends think they're smart, but r truly dummies (affectionate)

a/n: tysm for submitting a request, mai!! hope u enjoy ^_^

The café was filled with the sweet aroma of cinnamon buns and the chatter of its patrons. The Sugar Claws café and bakery was located just a little ways off campus, and just happened to be the hotspot hangout for the university's hockey team. If there was one way to attract a bunch of sweaty, tired college boys, it was through hot cinnamon buns fresh from the oven and some dark, bitter brews. 

Lee Donghyuck sat down back in his seat at the table, where a few of his other teammates were seated—Lee Jeno, Jung Sungchan, and Liu Yangyang. He had a receipt in his hand with a large cinnamon roll ordered. "What're we talking about?"

Jeno nodded to the receipt. "Dude, you ordered another one? You're gonna completely ruin dinner for yourself."

"Oh nah," Donghyuck replied with a flippant wave of his hand. "It's not for me. Yn's swinging by in a few."

Yangyang's eyebrow shot up. "Yn, huh?" He wagged them playfully across the table at his friend. "Why? Is she keeping you company while we're gone?"

Donghyuck pouted in his seat. "Uh, yeah! You guys are ditching me to go where? The stupid library!"

Sungchan coughed into his fist, leaning over to Yangyang to murmur not-so-quietly, "I bet he'd go to the library if Yn was there."

"I can hear you!" 

The three of them, Jeno, Yangyang, and Sungchan, all began packing their things up. It was about time for them to head over to the library to meet up with their two other project group mates. It was some kind of research paper or project or whatever—wasn't like he paid attention when it came to that stuff. 

After wishing his friends luck (and another curse or two for leaving him), they were on their way out of the café. Just as they were, you stumbled in through the door, nearly whacking Sungchan in the face with it. 

"Oh my god! Sorry, Channie!" 

Sungchan's face had drained to a ghostly white, but it quickly turned to a blush pink. "Ah, it's no problem, Ynie."

"Have fun on your date," Yangyang snickered as he passed by you and out the door. 

You wrinkled your nose at him, but Jeno pretty much had the same cheeky expression on his face as he passed. Sungchan was the last to duck out, leaving you to stand in the doorway with no clue what was happening. 

You made your way over to Donghyuck, who raised his arms toward you, making grabby hands. "Hi Hyuck-ah," you greeted. 

His hands reached up and pulled you into his lap, peppering the side of your face with kisses. "Thank you for coming to my rescue."

You returned his affection with a peck to the corner of his mouth. "You're welcome. Anything for you."

"I think you mean anything for cinnamon buns."

"You know me so well." You slipped into the seat beside him and began digging your fork into the warm dough and sticky sugar glaze. "What was up with the three of them, anyway? Your weird friends."

Donghyuck snorted, lifting his arm to rest it along the back of your chair. "The hell would I know? I never know what they're thinking."

"They know we've been dating for months, right?" The thought suddenly occurred to you that Yangyang, Jeno, and Sungchan had acted that way because they didn't know the two of you were actually on a date. Even so, they were acting kind of strange (which wasn't so far from the norm, to be honest). 

"Well," he drawled, giving you a cheeky wink, "maybe they just think I'm undatable. Many have tried to date me, but failed."

"And? That could just be because you're a loner."

Donghyuck made another face. "Rude. Then you're a loner, too!"

"Loners stick together," you replied smoothly with a shrug of your shoulders. 

You lifted a chunk of cinnamon bun up to his lips, not even registering that the café door had opened again with a familiar face. "Here, have some."

"Don't mind if I—"

"The fuck?!" 

Your heads whipped around to see Yangyang standing in the doorway, eyes as wide as a giant cinnamon roll. He gaped at the both of you, and it would have been hilarious to you if…

Wait, no. It was hilarious. 

"Y-you—and you?" He stammered, finger flicking between you and your boyfriend. 

Donghyuck laughed, mouth closing around your fork. He swallowed the bite. "And you guys say I'm blind."

Yangyang choked on his next words, unable to say anything. Then he cleared his throat, lifting a finger, "Excuse me, I have to go make a scene now." When he turned on his heel and left the establishment, you and Donghyuck watched out the window as Yangyang ran around screeching like a banshee. 

"You think we broke him?" You asked Hyuck, who was chasing after your next forkful of pastry with his mouth. 

He snapped his mouth closed. "Beats me. Now feed me!"

You rolled your eyes, holding your other hand under the fork and feeding the next bite to him. "Okay, you big baby."

"Your big baby."

nct m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @johlee @justanotherkpopstanlol @frickyratz @liamsholygrail @staysstrays @w3bqrl @y3jiishot

join my permanent nct taglist here

[langernameohnebedeutung]

I was reading my textbook and came across this story about a ceremony, is this a real thing that actually happens?

ohh wow. I mean, there is a part of me that says 'absolutely never, what the fuck, what are they talking about', another that says '...never say never, you don't know what some weirdos get up to out there, especially university-life weirdos'

What is true is that you use 'Sie' with your lecturers and professors and 'du' with your peers. Usually, your teachers start using 'Sie' for their students in the last year or two of school when students are or turn of age, though that's usually very casual and many students opt out, especially if they knew the teacher for a long time (in that case, they continue to use 'Sie' for the teacher, and the teacher continues to use 'du'). If you enter university, you definitely get 'siez'-ed all around by your lecturers

Now, the 'getting invited for dinner'-thing - I know a lot of professors (especially in smaller seminars) that take the course or class to the pub or a Biergarten at the end of the semester, usually pay for a few rounds and there is some more causal conversation about all kinds of things and topics like politics or personal experiences or the news or good books - not just the course material. In all instances of this I've ever partaken in, the lecturer/professor stuck with the 'Sie' though there are some lecturers I'm on 'du' with personally, for example bc I started working for or with them. Personally, I'd think it would be weird to take 1 particular group for dinner without context, but if she had a close relationship with these specific American students and had a lot to do with them over the semester, it would be perfectly okay to go to dinner with them on a friendly basis, that's no one's business. In which case, it would also make sense to offer that group the 'du'.

So far, yeah, I can see all that happen, why not.

Where it really went 'what the hell-' for me is the...champagne, arm-locking, reintroducing bit.

Using 'Sie' or 'du' is usually the same difference as going from last name to first name, nothing more. There are some rules around it - for example, traditionally, the older person or the more high-ranking person is the one to offer the 'du', though it also makes a difference whether you enter a space where first name basis is normal or where last name basis is normal. For example, at my mother's place of work, they once had a bit of a problem bc everyone calls each other by the first name and they had an oder woman start there who worked in a relatively low position and she was 'siez'-ing everyone despite everyone clearly using first names. It was a bit awkward to invite her to use the 'du' because she was older but she couldn't ask because technically, most people were higher-ranking. So what happened was that eventually someone just said 'By the way, we're all on first name basis around here.' (it should also be said, that people are loosening up about this a little in many parts.).

I've also worked in places where 'Sie' was the norm - in which case, there were colleagues who offered you the 'du' in private or there were little 'du' bubbles in some departments, but there were some extra-rules in front of whom you stuck with 'du' (e.g. when they were in a position where it was clear that they would be using du, like people who were married or in a relationship or people who has been friends since the bronze age, they'd also use 'du' in a big meeting, but then there were others who used 'Sie/Frau Sowieso' in a big/official meeting and 'du' ina small/informal group bc it might look weird without explanation). Or, for example, if Person A and Person B use 'du' and A wants to introduce B to C, they might say "This is Herr/Frau B" to subtly clarify that this is a 'Sie-situation' for C and not a 'everyone is using 'du' here, pls do the same' even if A continues to use 'Du' with B for the rest of the day, C now knows that A and B are close and friends without making a fool of themselves and accidentally using 'Du' for A or B themselves. Now, this sounds weird laid out like this but again, if it's not all that different from first name/last name rules.

There are also more extreme environments, where you refer to each other with title all the time. For example, (Herr/Frau) Doktor Soandso or (Herr/Frau) Professor Soandso" - that's still the norm to say, even in non-medical/non-university settings, though it varies from place to place and age group to age group. This norm used to include a lot more jobs like 'teacher' or 'factory owner' or even 'head of department' and military rankings. E.g. in Kafka's Metamorphosis there is a character that is always only called 'the/Mr Prokurist' and never actually has a name as far as I remember. There is a lot of symbolism tied into this, but also - that would have been the normal form of address then.

There are still places where there are more jobs who get that treatment (Austria is kind if infamous for this) and jobs that are on the brink of losing that special mention. Interestingly, btw, President and Chancellor wavered before Doktor did. Which creates the funny scenario where it would be rude to call your GP 'Herr Soandso' instead of 'Doctor Soandso' if you meet him at the supermarket, but you could call the former Chancellor 'Frau Kanzlerin' or 'Frau Merkel' and neither would really be rude - and you could call her 'Frau Doktor Merkel', but it is not obligatory bc the 'Chancellor' thing is more important than her doctorate in physics at that moment, but also 'Chancellor' is not as important a mention for some reason. In fact, if you did it and asked her a science-related question about her policies, it might seem like a subtle dig/specific bootlicking depending on context.

But...it's really not a ritual. Not more or less than inviting someone to use your first name is, by any means.

What usually happens is: "Ach, und ich bin übrigens der Jürgen." (Hey, I'm Jürgen by the way) or: "...ich denke wir können uns auch duzen, oder?" (I think we can use 'du' don't you?) ...and than, that's that. (and then it's extremely awkward bc if they're really old or higher in rank you don't want to call them 'Bob' or you slip up because you're so used to it but that's part of it.)

The whole 'locking arms and drinking chamagne' thing made me almost consider whether they accidentally joined a fraternity or something? Because it almost sounds like a Verbindung/Burschenschafts ritual. But usually, German fraternities (can of worms but that would digress too far) are a very exclusive affair and I'd think it impossible to join one by accident or get involved in their rituals without noticing and I think the students would notice if they were in a weird house with 19th century memorabilia and suddenly swords and funny uniforms involved. (Plus, they're usually not exactly a champagne crowd I think. More beer, wine, and schnapps.) But this is part of the reason why I said 'I don't know, I guess there is always one weirdo club in some state/town out there that does really weird things, especially when it comes to university culture. I was wiling to entertain the idea that it could also be a historic thing, bc I don't know when this is supposed to have happened - but considering that the teacher is a woman, that narrows it down to a little more than the last century and the fact that she's a lecturer even more so AND if it's some fraternity thing, it's probably even more limited than that bc apart from sororities, it took a really long time for the first fraternities to become 'mixed'. Most of them are still a man-only affair. (and for all the girlies out there who consider joining a Frauenverbindung: Don't expect to be on eye-level. I've talked to guys from Verbindungen, and they said some very misogynistic things about women in Verbindungen right to my face as if it was the most normal thing in the world.)

Even going around for each person would be weird. I could see it if it was some big social event and the teacher wasn't the host specifically - then it would make sense to do it indivudally/for each group while you go around and socialise. Which would also explain why there was champagne involved? But at a dinner party? I'd think the normal scenario would be just the host sitting at the head of the table, saying 'ah, I'm Sabine by the way' and then continuing the conversation as quickly as possible.

I also think the whole 'calling the teacher 'du' afterwards but still 'Frau Doktor' is a bit weird bc usually I think you'd drop the title before the 'Sie'? As I said, I had lecturers who I was 'per du' with and that extended to the classes, I'd still call them by their first name then because it would have been very 'hey we're friends in private but don't you dare associate with me in front of others!' if I went back to 'siez'-ing them in a mainly 'du' environment and it would still be pretty clear to the students that this student and this lecturer happen to be friends or something and that it's not an open-to-all du. But that is a small thing and yeah, could happen.

But overall? I think for most German-speaking people, hooking arms and drinking with someone to celebrate duzen, would be less of an 'honoured ritual' and more of a 'text my mother my last location' type of thing. (Which, again, opens the door for anyone who wants to tell me that 'in our town, we always do it like this and have been doing it like since the days of Charlemagne.')

This actually reminds me - I once read an account by a young missionary from a...uh specific American church (I can tell you in private which one it is but I don't want to invite discourse by naming it - though maybe you can guess) that only taught their missionaries how to use 'Sie' in German. Mind you, it's important to know in that context that you cannot just replace 'du' and 'Sie' - it affects work conjugation, possessive pronouns etc. And the reason (presumably) was to effectively prevent their missionaries from making actual friends/bonding with people because they simply didn't have the language...to make friends.

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls | k.th.

pairing: art-student!taehyung x creative-writing-student!reader 

rating: m (18+)

genre: angst | smut | fluff | humor | college!au | established relationship!au

summary: One drink too many at Hoseok’s Halloween party, and you’ve blanked out on the entire night that followed. Now, who’s gonna fill you in when Taehyung looks one second away from breaking into tears when you bring it up with him? From running across the university campus in remnants of your vampire outfit, to dealing with your downtrodden boyfriend’s disappointed stares - you’re left with one hell of a day, and zero recollections.

warnings: swearing + talks of alcohol (literally the whole tHEME of the story) + casual use of the word “amnesia” by careless college students + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts, really explicit makeout sessions, dry-humping, lil bit breast play, lil dirty talking, fingering) + love bites galore.

word count: 19.2 k

note: so. issa a humongous beast, i know. i literally cannot fathom how i wrote these many words without posting anything in between. also, believe it or not, i fleshed out the plot for this fic all the way back in June, 2019. it's taken me nearly two years and a HELL LOTTA editing to the basic storyline to finally be able to finish this off. also, i extended this AU to include all the boys, so...kinda had to rope in their stories, too, lol. hope you enjoy this while i go slave off on the rest of the six fics~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

A knock sounded, seemingly coming from the end of a miles long tunnel. You groaned, pursing your lips against the pounding that echoed in your head in response.

Gosh, what was this? Why was your mind so freaking foggy? What did you do last n—

"Angel? Are you in there with hyung?"

You wrinkled your nose, always hating how your boyfriend's entire group of friends had taken to address you by the pet name he gave you—to the limit where you legitimately didn't always remember that "angel" wasn't your name. They said it was somewhat of a "norm" in their group that came into practice when Jin forbade them all from saying his girl's name. Or getting too friendly by calling her “noona” in a really creepy way.

You'd had eight months' experience of this idiocy now, but that didn't make you cringe any less whenever you heard the address.

You tried swallowing past the sand in your mouth, eyebrows wrinkling as you willed your brain to interpret what the voice said beyond your "name."

And then it registered.

In there? With hyung? 

What the hell?

"What? No, hyung, I can’t just rattle the knob to check—what? I might have heard some... wait. Why? What? No! Noona is—no, she's an adult, I'm sure she can make her own decisions! I’m not going to—I'm disconnecting the call, Namjoon-ssi, this is so uncomfortable!"

Your eyes fluttered open in pitch black darkness. 

Namjoon-ssi? Who was referring to your dumbheaded best friend with such respect?

Wait, wait, wait.

…noona?

Only one person called you…

"Jungkook?" you muttered, wincing at how horrible you sounded.

Releasing a deep breath, you came to the conclusion that you were dealing with a hangover. A really, really bad hangover, because your recollection of how you got to this point was nil.

Blinking, you opened your eyes wider, looking around in an attempt to catch bearings of where you were, because the overwhelming heat wrapped around your body definitely didn't remind you of your cold ass dorm room.

You squirmed, attempting to stick your feet out of the warm covers that seemed to be stifling you whole, specifically your legs and your midsection.

"Nuuuu~nghhh…"

You froze.

What the—?

The voice—well, more of a groan that you couldn't really comprehend—had come from somewhere near your rib cage. 

You pulled your arms down from where they were rested under your pillow, wincing at the soreness that'd taken residence in them. With slight shaky fingers, you reached over to where you hoped the nightstand would be. To your luck, your fingers brushed over a smooth table top before bumping into what felt like a button that could belong to a bedside lamp.

Swallowing the cotton wool lodged in your throat, you pressed down with your index and middle fingers, immediately hissing in discomfort when blinding light burned your corneas.

"Whaaa~nuuuuu…"

Something soft brushed against the underside of your boobs. Your eyes immediately snapped open wide, disregarding the killer headache that ensued. Your heart was pounding hard, fear climbing up your windpipe as you looked down.

Your naked boobs greeted your line of vision, followed by a mop of black hair.

You heaved in a huge gulp of air.

No. 

No, no, no, no, this couldn't—

Was this—

Did you—

Were you naked?

You didn't realise when your eyes had squeezed shut, but they fluttered open when a contented hum echoed around you, a small gust of warm breath brushing against your stomach.

"Uh…" You wanted to say something to the fluffy, dark hair moving around over your abdomen, but you were at a loss. 

Why was he lying over your naked body? God, was he naked, too?

What the heck had happened last night?

"Whoa." The fluffball on your abdomen moved completely, and a pair of round, pretty eyes connected with yours past your bared breasts. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to. Good morning, baby."

You involuntarily shivered at your boyfriend's gravelly morning voice. The damn pitch that was deeper than the ocean on the regular, tended to penetrate the layers of the earth itself when he woke up.

But…

Oh, God. You had only ever seen him topless. And only seen, not even touched. Or more. So, waking up to being topless and under him was making your heart beat out of your chest, and your body burn with sparks, all over.

"Um, Tae…"

"Hmm?" Plump lips connected to your skin, dragging over the sides of your breasts.

Your breathing was immediately unsteady even when your eyes widened in alarm. "T—Tae, wait…" You swallowed thickly when he climbed up your body and set his hands on the bed next to your pillow, his face hovering inches above yours.

You breathed in, preparing to speak past the bundle of nerves in your throat, and—froze. 

A corner of your lips twitched.

His eyes were surrounded by huge pools of black, that you could now recall was eyeliner that you'd meticulously applied on him, last evening. The bright red lipstick he'd gone for in order to finish off his vampire look, was now smudged all the way down to his chin. 

Despite the killer throbbing in your head and your panic at your state of undress, you couldn't hold back a fit of laughter at the sight. "Tae, baby—your makeup…" You managed to mumble between bouts of uncontrollable giggles.

Taehyung just grinned at you, shaking his head in silent humor. "As if you're any better. Ooh, look at this!" His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on your neck. "Your neck looks like you got attacked by a vampire, baby."

You smacked his chest with a harrumph, ignoring the warm, firm feel of it, rolling your eyes when he broke into laughter. "Pretty sure you were the one that did it, smartass."

"Well. I don't see a problem with it. We were supposed to be vampire mates, after all." Flashing you a smirk that would've been a lot more irresistible to you if it weren't for all the smudged lipstick on his face, Taehyung rolled off your body to sit at the edge of the bed. "This headache, though… ugh…" He groaned, massaging his forehead with a hand. "How much did we have to drink, Angel?

You slowly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets to cover yourself all the way up to your neck. Your brows furrowed in concern. How much did you have to drink, for real? The way you couldn't seem to recall literally anything from the party last night was kind of a sign that it had gone beyond your limits.

Clearing your throat in nervousness, you lifted the edge of the sheet to take a peek at yourself, breathing a tiny sigh of relief on finding your panties still wrapped around your hips. So at least you hadn't gone all the way, right?

Right?

"Hey, Tae," you called out, stopping your boyfriend on his way to the bathroom. He was clad only in a pair of boxers that accentuated his plump butt, which was also a first time experience for you, but you figured that it was better than nothing. "We, uh, what did we do last night?"

Taehyung looked at you over his shoulder, brows slightly creased in confusion. "What? We went to Hobi hyung's Halloween party, baby, dressed as vampires. Hence the makeup…?"

You shook your head, gulping down your nerves. Taehyung had completely turned around to look at you, now, arms crossed against his bare chest. In spite of the ridiculously smudged makeup on his face, he made a damn appealing sight. You willed your gaze to not stray down to his sculpted thighs for the sake of your own sanity.

"Angel?"

"I—I mean...after," you mumbled with flaming cheeks. 

Your asshole of a boyfriend grinned wickedly at that, moving his hands to place them on his hips. "Uh huh. After, baby? What do you think?" He gave you an exaggerated wink.

You looked down at your fingernails, your entire body almost shivering out of nervousness and each one of your nerve endings inducing sparks all across your body. You were pretty sure you were blushing all the way from your ears, down to your chest.

Soft thumps of feet padding across the floor echoed around the room. You felt his warmth near you before his fingers tapped beneath your chin, prompting you to look up.

You did, eyes widened and breathing halted.

Taehyung's brows were lowered and lips pursed together as he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes. "Do you…do you not remember anything?"

The hesitation in his voice almost caused your heart to stop beating. Why was he being like this? Had the two of you actually done it, last night?

And…you didn't even remember anything?

"Angel?"

"Oh, God, Taehyung! Why do I not remember?" you suddenly cried out. 

"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay!"

What? No, it wasn't.

You'd had sex with your boyfriend for the first ever time after eight months of dating, four out of which you'd spent dreaming extremely lewd and inappropriate dreams about him, and now―and now you didn't remember it!

"I'll go take a shower, and then we can talk about last night. Okay, baby? Hey, look at me," Taehyung softly spoke to you, carding long, elegant fingers of one of his hands through your hair. He cupped your cheek with the other. "Don't worry, Angel, you're just hungover right now. I'm sure it'll all come back once your head's feeling better."

You swallowed thickly, kinda pissed at yourself for feeling so emotional about this, but kinda more pissed at your drunk self for doing the do with the love of your life when she knew she was too far gone to retain the memories.

"I love you, baby," said love of your life murmured to you, leaning in to peck your forehead softly.

"Love you too, baby," you mumbled back, watching, from the corner of your eye, as his shapely ass made its way down the room and into the bathroom.

You exhaled, loudly. Even though you loved him beyond measure and trusted him completely, you didn't wanna talk to Taehyung, right now. He remembered everything from last night, and the torn, hesitant, kinda hurt look in his eyes made you feel insecure and disadvantaged.

You knew you had to cure your hangover first, vent out about how dumb you felt, and have someone reassure you that forgetting about your first time with your boyfriend wasn't the end of the world, before having that conversation with Taehyung.

And you also knew how you were gonna accomplish that.

You needed your best friend.

You’d already pounded on the door like crazy twice by the time you first heard movement from inside. What the hell was Namjoon busy with now? Hadn't he called Jungkook up just a while earlier, causing the boy to wake you up?

It was one o'clock on a Sunday morning, anyway. There was no way someone like Namjoon was busy.

Wait. Hadn’t he been at the party last night, too? You couldn’t really recall, to be honest.

God, what was Hobi serving last night? 

Tapping your feet impatiently, you scratched at your cheek. The water base, super dry moisturiser you’d stolen from your boyfriend’s roommate was definitely not meant to suit your skin type. But you had no choice. You were in a crisis. You had needed to escape the dorm before Taehyung came out of the bathroom, and you couldn’t have exactly walked out with the remnants of last night’s vampire makeup all over your face.

You looked down at your ridiculous attire consisting of the leather shorts you wore last night, topped with a huge, off white sweatshirt you'd found lying over the living room couches. You guessed it was Taehyung's, but you were, embarrassingly, not completely certain and it very well could have been Jungkook's. Either way, it didn't really matter, ’cause, as mentioned before, you were in a freaking crisis. Your feet were wrapped up in the spare pair of bathroom slippers you kept at Tae's.

Exhaling loudly, you pulled up your arm to bang heavily against the damn door, again. "Where the fuck are you, Namjoon? Open up!"

Mere seconds later, grumbles seeped through the door to you, and then it was slowly unbolted.

You were gonna straight up fall into Namjoon and legit beg him to comfort you until your body melted—

"Well, hello there, sexy cheeks! What a pleasant surprise!"

You groaned aloud. Just what you needed to make this morning a bigger headache—your best friend's roadside romeo, can-never-keep-it-in-his-pants, creep of a roommate. "Jackson. Get the fuck out of my w—"

"And, FYI, I was referring to your ass cheeks."

You gritted your teeth. "Where's Joon?"

The cocky guy in front of you shifted to set his hips against the doorjamb. "Sleeping. He came in late, last night. That damned loser was at the party till two am on a Saturday night, and didn’t even bring a girl back home. What a fucking waste."

You squinted at him. "Bullshit. He called Jungkook earlier."

"Yeah, well, he went back to sleep after that. It's Sunday, sexy cheeks, even a nerd like Joon is allowed to sleep in today. He's been working his ass off at the library for a couple nights, anyway."

"Stop stereotyping him." You rolled your eyes. "Will you move?"

Jackson's silver blonde hair moved across his forehead as he tilted his head to look at you with a sly grin. "What if I refuse?"

"I'll stab you and walk over your body."

His eyes momentarily widened, but then he gave a nervous giggle. "O–oh? We won't want that to happen now, would we? Come on in, sexy cheeks!"

"Stop calling me that!" you snapped, walking into the dorm and heading straight towards Namjoon's bedroom.

"What? But that's my pet name for you! I don't wanna call you Angel like the rest of the fucking college!"

"It's just seven guys, Wang, jeez. Also, I actually have a name?" you yelled over your shoulder, fiddling with the awful door knob on Namjoon's bedroom door that was almost always jammed. Like it was right now. Good God!

"Your name? That's so mainstream, babe, have some respect for my vibe, at the very least."

"I'm not your babe!"

"But you could be!"

"I'll slap you, Jackson, shut the—" you broke off with a grunt as the doorknob finally twisted free. But your relief had a super short life, because then you had to nearly cause your shoulder to rupture when you tried to get the door to budge. "Why does this idiot not complain about getting this shitty fucking door changed? He'll get stuck in there someday and die, I'm telling you."

"Whoa. You're contemplating way too many murders for a Sunday morning, sexy cheeks. All okay?"

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "You want me to actually commit one of them?"

Jackson's eyes widened and he slowly retracted his steps to the kitchen, where he presumably was before he came to open the door, given the apron he'd tied over his muscle tee and the random patches of white powder that covered his exposed upper arms. You rolled your eyes once again, and gave a particularly hard push to the door, making yourself stumble in as the door suddenly opened.

Namjoon stood on the other side, though, eyes barely open and silver blonde hair mussed. 

He was shirtless, in the process of trying to unwind a twisted up t-shirt. "Whoa, whoa—hol' up—when did I say you could come in?"

You paused. Your eyebrows lowered. Your eyes narrowed. The audacity?!

"I've seen you pantless, Namjoon," you deadpanned. 

"Wha—is that even a word—"

"Dude, I've seen your penis when it wasn't as big as my pinky toe!"

"Okay, hang on now, it's got to be at least the pinky finger—"

"We were four. It was the pinky toe." You exhaled when Namjoon gave up and went back to getting into a t-shirt over his plaid shorts. "Are you not looking at me, right now? Do you not see what kind of a wreck I am? What sort of a best friend are you?"

"Uh, a sleep deprived one? And, for the record, I actually am not looking at you, 'cause my eyes aren't exactly open and functioning at the moment, anyway."

You shot him a glare, but then exhaled and slumped down on his bed with your shoulders drooped. "I fucked up, Joonie."

Namjoon stopped in the process of blindly hunting for his glasses in the top drawer of his nightstand. He looked at you, complete with his swollen ass eyes and bee stung lips. You would have laughed if your own tragedy wasn't laughable in itself.

"Stop gawking!"

Namjoon shut his mouth and straightened up. "I, uh… You fucked up? Kinda hard to swallow. You're an inspiration to everyone, babe. Angel never fucks up."

You groaned a little upon hearing the wretched "pet name" tumble so smoothly from your best friend's lips. "Angel? Really, Joon?"

Namjoon shrugged, standing on his toes and extending his arms above his head in a full body stretch before he settled on the twin bed next to you. "I've got to, hun. You know how Jin hyung gets when he hears any of us call you anything but Angel."

"He's not here right now, though, is he?"

"Well, I'm trying to practice." He shrugged a shoulder. "So, are you here to pointlessly argue with me, or are you here to discuss how, exactly, did you fuck up? You were with Tae last night from what I gathered out of Jungkook's flustered half-sentences. Did something happen between you guys?"

"Yes?" You grimaced. And then you thickly swallowed. "I… I had sex with Taehyung.”

You looked at him when Namjoon had been silent for too long. He was blinking at you. "I don't see any fucking up happening, Angel, only fucking Tae."

Oh, how you'd slap him into the next galaxy if you had the energy at the moment. "Kim Namjoon, I swear to God—"

"Okay, okay, sorry. So. How does having sex with your boyfriend equate to fucking up? What'd I miss?"

You sighed. "I was completely hammered, and don't remember a single thing."

Namjoon's eyebrows rose very slowly. "Wait…what?"

You frowned. "Don't make me repeat it, Joon."

"I'm not, girl, but. Just. I—I don't seem to comprehend."

"I had sex with him for the first fucking time, Namjoon, and I don't remember a single detail! You know, I wanted to know how it all went down, how intense, sexy and gorgeous he looked on top of me. I wanted to save it to my memory. If he was on top. Otherwise, what he looked like when desperate and begging below me."

"Wait—"

"But I remember nothing! I'm so embarrassed, Joon! Maybe he put those gorgeous ass fingers of his to good use. I bet he did!"

"Hey—"

"I don't even know if he ate me out or if I sucked him off, because I would have loved to, before we—"

"Holy fuck, stop! I don’t wanna hear that, gross!" Namjoon pressed both his palms against his ears, his face pulled into an expression of utter disgust. His mouth opened, probably to give you a piece of scolding, but then his gaze dropped to your exposed collarbones and his eyebrows raised. He removed his hands with wide eyes. "Now, I don’t know about those dirty freaking details, and I don’t want to—but I can guess that your night was definitely passionate. Maybe a bit rough."

You frowned, following his line of sight—

And then sprung to your feet with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit! What the hell—"

"Whoa—"

You gripped the neckline of the hoodie and tugged it away from your chest. "He left bruises, Joon, these aren't just bites!"

"Wait, wait—"

"God damn—" You struggled to wrestle the hoodie off your body.

"No—"

"I need to fucking see, Joon—"

"But I don't!" Namjoon squeaked. 

You managed to remove the hoodie completely, your hands busy patting around your boobs to feel for bruises. You looked up at your best friend to find him turned away with both his palms pressed up against his eyes.

It took you a moment to realise that he was throwing a fit about you being topless in front of him. You exhaled. "Must I remind you that you've seen me pantless, too, Joon?"

"We were kids! And now we're not! I don't wanna pop a boner for my childhood best friend that I've shared poops with!"

You grimaced. "You won't, Joon. It's as you said—we've shared poops. It's physically impossible for us to get turned on by each other."

"I'm still a straight guy, though, and boobs are boobs."

You clicked your tongue, choosing to walk into his bathroom to, partially, save him from dying out of panic, but mostly analyse your upper body in the mirror. 

You hummed to yourself when you found a blossoming patch of pink right under your left boob, and an almost navy spot above your right nipple.

You fought a whimper of despair. Sex with Taehyung seemed like something that’d get you wet by memories alone. But you'd already missed your first chance to make them.

You grumpily stomped back to Namjoon's bed and collected the hoodie you'd tossed on it. Pulling it over, you smacked a turned away Namjoon upside his head. "I'm dressed, loser."

"Not wanting to see your boobs makes me a loser?"

"Making a big fucking deal out of it while I'm stuck in a very embarrassing and kind of an impossible situation does!"

“Oh my God, fine! Let’s just talk about that stupid, overthinking brain of yours.”

Your mouth falls open. “The fuck? I’m not overthinking, Joon, for the love of—”

“Okay! Just—stop with all the cursing, you sound like Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get the basics down, then. Observe, analyse and calculate. You’ll tell me about how you feel in certain...areas of your body, and then we’ll conclude if any sex even actually happened or if you’re fussing over nothing. ’Kay?”

You dumbly blinked. If any sex even actually happened? You didn’t need any testing for that, Taehyung’s face had been more than enough to tell you. “No?” you sneered at Namjoon. “I know it happened. I need to know how to recall the details. Do you know, like, some brain exercise or something? Like, running a mental disk defragmenter of sorts?”

Namjoon sighed. “Listen—”

“Also, can you please dye your hair and stop twinning with the asshole next door? I feel like I’m talking to him and it makes me wanna puke.”

Namjoon sighed again. “He’s gonna dye his hair to match mine like he always does, it’s pointless.”

“Then shave it off.”

“Ouch, woman.”

“What?” You scowled at him, rummaging through his wardrobe to try and make yourself slightly more presentable. “And get ready. We’re gonna go get some breakfast. Greasy and cheesy. And you’re gonna tell me what to do. And I’m calling Munchkin to join us.”

As you carried a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom, you heard your best friend murmur something like, “this is gonna be a long day.”

Taehyung sat sprawled all over the living room couch, barely looking up when Jungkook's room's door opened. His eyes kept digging holes into your phone that you'd left behind when you made your—very obviously hurried—exit while he was in the shower. Why, though?

Taehyung was fucking confuddled.

"Oh, finally!" Jungkook's surprised voice floated over to him moments before the boy himself rounded the couch to look down at him, entering his peripheral vision with a water bottle in hands. "Where's noona? Tell her to call Namjoon hyung, he rang me up…worrying…about her…um. Hyung? You okay?"

Taehyung blinked, raising his brows as he hummed in question, refocusing his gaze on the younger boy. "What?"

"Did you, uh, hear anything I said?" Jungkook looked at him cautiously, taking wary sips of water.

"Yeah, I heard." Taehyung looked down at his hands. "She's not here, she left."

"Left? On her own? You didn’t drop her off?" Jungkook sounded innocently curious. He chuckled. "You still hungover, or what?"

Taehyung sighed. "Well, no. But she didn't ask me to drop her. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Also left her phone behind, for some reason."

"Maybe she was in a hurry to get away from you after last night?" Jungkook's eyes were wide in alarm even before Taehyung shot him a glare. "Sorry, I didn't… Um. That was a stupid joke, I don’t even know why I said that when I don't even know anything. Um. Sorry."

"No, you're probably right," Taehyung regretfully mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "She was gone within five minutes."

"And is that why she stole my hoodie, too?"

Taehyung's head snapped up, again. What did he mean by that? He found Jungkook frowning at one of the armrests of the couch. "The fuck did you say?"

Jungkook's big, innocent eyes looked at him in panic. "I—I mean, I left it here after I spilt ketchup on it! Remember yesterday's lunch burgers? And now it's…well. Not here."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, secretly exhaling in relief, while at the same time annoyed at himself for thinking stupid shit. And also at Jungkook for making him think it. "The hell, Kook? How does that mean she took it?"

Jungkook squinted at him. "Okay, so then did you take it? Because I sure as heck didn't touch it, hyung."

Taehyung stilled, realising that the boy was probably right, because the top you'd worn last night was still lying on his bedroom floor. He bit his lip. Had you actually been in such a hurry to get away? Get away from him?

Did you…hate him for last night? But you'd very clearly reassured him that you wanted it and were ready and you looked actually excited about it. 

You’d looked really excited about it.

But maybe you were too sloshed to think then, but were trying to avoid him with your mind sober. Maybe you regretted agreeing.

Oh no. Oh no.

"We were drunk off our asses, last night," he tried to fruitlessly dissuade Jungkook, his voice coming out tight. Because what did it even matter if you'd already changed your mind? "Maybe your drunk ass used it to clean up your whizz and then threw it out your window and forgot?"

Jungkook's gaze turned even more speculative. 

Taehyung looked away, eyes landing back on your phone. Distress gripped him.

"Um."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Say it."

Jungkook cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Taehyung looked up to meet his shifty eyes. "Did you, uh. Did you and noona have a fight?"

Taehyung slunk lower in his place. "No, but we would now."

Jungkook cleared his throat in response before soundly gulping down water.

Taehyung almost laughed at his discomfort. The younger probably felt Taehyung needed some sort of counseling or suggestions, but he really didn't. And it wasn't just because he and Jungkook were not the best of friends despite being roommates for nearly a year now and part of the same group of friends for nearly six. No, he actually did not want it because that would make him worry that much more. He'd rather talk to you—apologize to you and try to make you understand as much as he'd be able to—whenever you decided to contact him.

Not that Jungkook would be good at consoling him, either way—the boy was horrible with words and had zero tact. His world revolved around gaming and studying music and minimal human interaction, a complete contrast to everything Taehyung was. Which was somewhat of a reason why they worked out so well as roommates.

"Uh…we…um. Nevermind." Jungkook turned to leave.

Taehyung mustered a chuckle. "Say it, Kook." 

"Do you wanna go to Jin hyung's?" he spoke in a single breath.

Jin—the oldest in their group of friends and also the one Taehyung was the closest to—lived in a four bedroom apartment shared by Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin, and often, Jin's girlfriend, too, which was owned by a family member of Hoseok's. Namjoon, your best friend and the final member of the group, lived in a dorm on the other side of the campus, similar to Taehyung's own, with a school friend of his.

Now. Jungkook, being the youngest of the entire lot, was extremely insecure and conscious of himself around Jin. And so, despite nearly licking the very ground Yoongi walked on due to the guy's musical prowess that Jungkook was a fan of, the younger boy always tried to avoid visiting the house if not for extreme case scenarios when the entire group gathered there for activities that he was not allowed to skip. He usually just called Yoongi over.

And he was suggesting they visit? This had to have taken some guts.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna go to that house?"

"Well, not really." Jungkook's cheeks tinged pink. "But you look like you could use Jin hyung's advice and stuff. He also, um, makes yummy hot chocolate. Jimin hyung and Hobi hyung could cheer you up, and. Um. Yoongi hyung could help me with my…semester project?"

"And here I thought you were being thoughtful!" Taehyung let out a laugh. “You just want Yoongi hyung’s help, you selfish brat.”

Jungkook ducked his head. “A little bit of both?” He clicked his tongue, whining. "Come on, hyung, I'm trying here!"

"I know, I know." Taehyung rolled his eyes but nodded, ending Jungkook's misery.

He eyed your phone and released a shaking, nervous breath. 

“Well, I'm sort of driving myself nuts by sitting here. Let’s just go.”

“This is a disaster.”

You thumped your head against the table, groaning. “Gee, thanks, babe. Makes me feel so much better. I should’ve just gone back to the dorm. Wendy would’ve given me ice cream, at least.”

Your other only-best-friend-in-this-world—other than Namjoon, that is—rolled her mascara laden eyes. “It’s not my duty to make you feel better. I’m here to show you the mirror and be honest, not give you ice cream and kiss your boo-boos like your pussy roommate. That’s not helping. That’s ignoring the problem.”

“Fair point.” You sat up and looked down in your lap. “So. Do you honestly think I’m doomed?”

“I honestly think you’re stupid.”

You shot a glare at her.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! You yourself said you both had your lower regions covered, right?” At your nod, she clicked her tongue. “So you’re not even sure if you had sex, in the first place. And even if you did, so what? He’s your freaking boyfriend, bitch! Grab him and do the do whenever!”

“Will you tone it down?” 

You jumped. And then scoffed when Namjoon settled on the empty chair on your other side, putting the tray of your frothing, steaming beverages down between you three.

"Tell me why you nicknamed this one munchkin and not guerrilla, again?" Namjoon grumbled, scowling at your girl best friend. "She's got their lung capacity."

"Because she's got munchkin legs," you mumbled, hurriedly bringing the styrofoam cup to your mouth to taste nirvana. “Ah, this is so good! And she walks super slow, like a freakin’ munchkin.”

"Oh, so that's also an insult?" Namjoon looked at your best friend with gleaming eyes. "I thought it was a pet name!"

Her eyes narrowed at Namjoon for a second, before her expressions dropped into a lascivious smile. "You thought it was cute, didn't you?" she dramatically batted her lashes, leaning closer to Namjoon, pushing her voluminous chest out. “You think I’m cute too, dontcha, Joon bug?”

Namjoon, immune to her dramatic, completely unnecessary seduction, blew a raspberry in her face. 

“Ew, you animal!” she shrieked, flinching away as droplets of spit rained on her face. “Gross!”

“You asked for it,” Namjoon deadpanned, sipping from his cup. 

“Guys,” you began. “Can we please talk about what I should do?”

“Uh, can I please also mention what you should not have done?” Munchkin squinted at you. At your noncommittal shrug, her expressions morphed into a sharp glare. “Sneak out. I mean, he’s your damn boyfriend of nearly quarter of a year, babe! Why the hell would you want to confide in Captain Dumbass, over here, and not him?”

“My IQ’s greater than you, but other than that—valid point, dude.” Namjoon turned to stare you down. “When it all winds down, and you end up sorting it out, he’s still gonna be hurt that you ran away, man.”

You bit your lip. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I forgot my phone at his place, too, so I couldn’t even text him.”

This time Munchkin turned her horrified gaze at Namjoon, and Namjoon at you. “What?” he squeaked. “You haven’t even texted him this entire time? Why didn’t you ask for my phone?”

“It’s almost three,” Munchkin mumbled. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” Her eyes suddenly turned wicked. “Imagine the angry sex.”

You snorted, bitterly. “How? I got fucking amnesia after our first time together, remember? I don’t even know what to imagine.”

Your best friends groaned in unison.

The second Hoseok invited them in, Jungkook went off like an arrow towards the direction of Yoongi's room.

Taehyung gave a dry chuckle, raising his eyebrows at Hoseok’s puffy eyes as he waved his hand before the guy’s face in greeting. “Good morning, hyung!” he said with fake cheeriness to grate on the elder’s nerves. 

Hoseok gave him the most venomous scowl Taehyung had ever seen on the guy’s face and walked away.

“He was cleaning up till six am and then Jin hyung woke him up at nine to go grocery shopping!” Jimin called from his slump on the couch, past the entry hall. “Poor guy didn’t even get to get his dick wet in his own party.”

“Of course you’d mention that,” Taheyung snorted, moving to join Jimin in what seemed like a Netflix marathon. “What’s this?” He nodded towards the 50-inch.

“Pretty Little Liars,” Jimin mumbled, lifting his feet enough to make room for Taehyung and then rested them back in his lap. “It’s a story of some girls. Who lie. Because that is all that girls fucking do, apparently.”

Taehyung, despite his mental disposition, found himself snorting in amusement for the second time. “Where’s Jin hyung?”

“Dropping noona off at Jackson’s. They’re in a fight, so don’t ask him about her.” Jimin raised a brow. “All okay?”

“They're fighting? How're you handling it?" Taehyung teased, well aware of Jimin's fear of conflicts between the group's oldest couple, and got a glare back. "And, not all's okay. Kinda had a shitty night.”

“Could not have been shittier than mine. You came in with your babe, made out in every corner of the house, held her when she did a keg stand, leftmaking out—what could go wrong?”

Taehyung grimaced but didn’t protest. “When did Jin hyung leave? I didn’t see him on my way over. Why’s Honey noona even friends with that pretentious jackass Jackson, nobody likes him,” he chose to comment on Jin’s girlfriend’s questionable life choices, instead.

“Nobody but Namjoon. Don’t forget they live together. And he and noona are family friends, you know that.” Jimin frowned. “Why’re you so eager to see Jin hyung? He didn’t really say when he’d get back. Maybe he and Honey noona are…making-up. If you know what I mean. I sincerely hope they are,” he added with a despaired stare skywards as if tossing a prayer up to God.

“Shut up, pervert. I'll just text him.” Taehyung waved a dismissive hand, pulling out his phone.

Jimin cleared his throat. “At least ask me why my night was shittier, you ass.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, shooting Jimin a flat look. “You didn’t get laid, I already know it.”

“Well, that, yes. But also, the circumstances leading up to me not getting laid? Ugh.” Jimin scrunched his nose. “So there’s this cute, little, busty babe, okay? Shaking her boobs up in my face, and I know she wants to fuck, but. I can see how sloshed she is, so I, you know? Hold back.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, still typing away on his phone. “Doubt that.”

“I did, okay? Wait till you hear the rest of it.” Jimin’s head dangled off the armrest, upside down and Taehyung could only see his neck as he spoke. “She comes on too strong, and at one point—I can’t resist. But when she’s on her knees, she’s so confused that I… man, I felt so bad. She was wasted, dude!” Jimin pulled himself back up, nestling his head against the armrest as he frowned at Taehyung. “So I tell her no. She cries. I try to comfort her, but she just keeps sobbing. And then she fucking throws up all over my carpet and—I still fucking try to take care of her. And, you know, after I’ve given her hugs and a water bottle and so much pep talk—her phone rings and she says she has to go. Now, get this.” Jimin sits up, now scowling at Taehyung. “She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Taehyung couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst out of him, his head rolling back against the back of the couch as he held his stomach. Just the one time in his life Jimin tried to be a gentleman, it backfired. But it served Jimin right for trying to get into everyone’s pants. He told the guy as much.

Jimin scoffed. “I don’t try to get into everyone’s pants, dude. I’ve never tried to turn the charm on you, have I?”

“’Cause you know you’d fail.”

“I would not and you better believe that, Kim Taehyung.” Jimin suddenly licked his lips and sat up to get into Taehyung's personal space. “You see these lips? They—”

“Yah, Park Jimin! Get your paws off my dongsaeng!” Jin entered the house with a booming yell.

Taehyung sighed in relief, grateful for more reasons than one. “Morning, hyung!”

“It’s afternoon, brat!”

“I thought he was your dongsaeng?” Jimin mocked. “And for the record, he’s mine, too.”

“I’m barely three months younger, Jimin, fuck off.”

“Tae! Leave this idiot be and go wait in my room. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Taehyung stood up to locate Jin to find the older one heating something up in the microwave, aggressively pushing things around. It was a strange sight. Jin’s temperament was always cooler than a cucumber. And he especially tended to his kitchen appliances and utensils with an impossibly tender hand. He was clearly agitated, completely unlike how he normally was. Was his fight with his girlfriend that bad? 

As if sensing his gaze, Jin looked up, concern shining in his eyes when they met Taehyung’s. Taehyung imagined his own must have reflected it back. “You okay, hyung?”

Jin sighed. “Been better,” he tiredly mumbled, running a hand down his face. “I saw your texts. I gather you haven’t eaten?”

Taehyung nodded, silently, walking around the couch to join the older in the kitchen. Settling on a stool, he observed Jin's furrowed eyebrows and set jaw. Something had to have happened recently, or he'd have noticed something in Jin's behaviour earlier.

“I haven’t eaten either, hyung,” Jimin yelled from the living room, sounding offended instead of whiny or seductive, for once. “This sort of favoritism is too much, even for you.”

Jin narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “You know, every time Honey ignores me, I'm immediately reminded of how you could have taken that blonde to your own room, Park Jimin. So no, the favouritism isn't too much. And for the record, you’re more than capable of feeding yourself. This one? Not so much, right now.”

Taehyung hung his head, curious about what all Jin just said to Jimin, but also immensely floored by Jin’s concern for his own well being. Despite clearly not being in the right state of mind himself, he was still caring for Taehyung. He mentally thanked Jungkook for bringing him here.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung placed his hands on the kitchen counter. “When I didn't see Honey-noona at the party last night, I thought it was work related. You two often skip parties to catch up on your beauty sleep and all that. Is something the matter, hyung?"

Jin extracted some sort of noodles from the microwave and shut his eyes. "She's mad at me."

Taehyung's eyebrows rose. Jin and his girl had been together for over five years, now. They were past the stages of fighting over petty things. It had to be serious. "Oh?"

"And it was triggered by something that idiot did!" Jin finished, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin.

The latter clicked his tongue. "For the last time, hyung," Jimin called out, sounding exasperated, "she’s mad over something else. The sooner you figure that out instead of blaming me every time you meet her, the faster your fight would be resolved.” He peeked at Jin over the couch's back. "And can you please make a quick work of it? I hate this phase…"

Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted up. Escaping the blame—classic Jimin. “What, exactly, did you do, Jimin? What blonde didn’t you take to your own room?” he asked, repeating Jin’s words from earlier.

“Irrelevant. He’s actually correct,” Jin interrupted, walking out of the kitchen. “You'll understand when I tell you. But right now, let’s talk about your problem. Come on.”

Although Taehyung was both curious and worried about Jin’s fight, he was more downtrodden due to his own situation at the moment, so he decided to follow the older boy upstairs, to Jin's room.

On entering the room, Taehyung slumped into Jin’s armchair while the man himself turned on the lights and made his way towards Taehyung with a water bottle and a huge bowl of reheated chicken noodles in hands.

Taehyung uncapped the bottle as soon as it was handed to him, not realising how badly parched all the worrying had gotten him. 

“I, uh, went to the shop you texted me. Have you guys really talked it through?”

Taehyung’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, swallowing a huge gulp of water.

Jin cracked a smile for the first time. “One of the thirteen texts you sent me was about this shop, remember? It was on the way, so I dropped by to look around, but I couldn't really choose—”

Taehyung’s phone rang, interrupting Jin. It was Namjoon. They both frowned.

What if the guy was still calling to ask about you, like he did this morning? Taehyung had assumed that you’d have talked to Namjoon, at least. His eyes widened when it hit him — you’d left your phone behind, how would you contact anybody?

He looked at Jin. Jin crossed his arms in front of his chest, gesturing to the phone with his eyes. “Pick it up.”

With sweaty hands, Taehyung picked up. “Hey, Joon hyung.”

Silence. He frowned.

“Hello?”

More silence. And then a hushed, indecipherable whisper sounded in the background which was followed by what sounded like a slap. Taehyung’s breath hitched.

“Angel?”

A sharp intake of breath filtered through the speakers to him. But then nothing else.

“Whe—” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Tae.” Your voice was light, airy, almost like a whisper, but it managed to weigh down on his heart. “I’m okay.”

Of course, you were. You’d chosen to see Namjoon, apparently. Why wouldn’t you be okay?

“I—I’m sorry for leaving like…that. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way.”

Taehyung was at a loss. “Wrong way? Angel, I…” He exhaled, shutting his eyes. In what way had he taken it? In what way was he supposed to take it? “Why did you leave, baby?”

No response. Taehyung’s heart seemed to keep on sinking.

“When can I see you again? We need to talk about last night. You know that, right?” He licked his lips and looked up at Jin. At the elder’s nod, he continued, “we need to finalize what we discussed. You get me?”

“I’ll see you tonight, Tae.” Your voice sounded tightly wound with emotions.

Taehyung took that as a good sign. “That’s great. I’ll be…I, uh. Just text me when you get to the dorm. Your phone’s on the coffee table. I’m at Jin hyung’s, I’ll come immediately.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Um. Tae? I love you.”

Taehyung could breathe again. “I love you, too, Angel. I love you so much.”

He’d barely disconnected the call when Jin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get some food in you and come with me. I went to the shop, but couldn’t really make the right purchase. You’ll have to do that yourself.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But I already told her to come see me! You nodded!”

Jin rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of noodles and stuffing them into Taehyung’s mouth that was hung open in surprise. “Because we have plenty of time, genius! It’s three in the afternoon. We’d be able to make it back before six, at any cost. Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung took the bowl of food from him, his appetite announcing itself as soon as a bite of savoury deliciousness touched his tongue. Stuffing his face, he nodded at his phone. “Could you please put that to charge? It’s almost dead.”

And then he smiled to himself. He was gonna make everything right, tonight.

“I’m pretty sure five o’clock doesn’t count as ‘night’ in any culture across the globe.”

You ignored Munchkin’s sarcastic remark as you stepped out of the car, and gave Namjoon a grateful peck on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here, Joon.”

“Great. Ignore me and then cry when there’re consequences.”

Waving a butterfly wave at a fuming Munchkin and a chuckling Namjoon, you stepped into Taehyung’s dorm building. You knew you were early, but your nerves didn’t allow you to sit still at Namjoon’s place. You didn’t dare go back to your own dorm, knowing how chaotic Wendy tended to get and not able to muster the energy you usually needed to deal with her.

Taehyung lived in the larger, spacier and definitely pricier North Dorms. They were more like mini-apartments, with individual rooms and a living room area along with a whole kitchen instead of the tiny kitchenette you had with your own South Dorms. Namjoon lived in the East Dorms, similar in design to these, but in a wackier condition and slightly less pricey.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You would take your phone, text Taehyung to inform him of your arrival, have a glass of water, and patiently wait. Jungkook wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, so you’d have some time to yourself before Taehyung for here, which you planned to utilise by giving yourself mental pep talks. 

You were gonna come clean to your boyfriend and tell him that you remembered none of last night, profusely apologise for panicking and running out on him, and then, if the mood allowed for it, request him to give you a refresher that you’d be sure to memorise properly, this time.

The door was opened. Jungkook immediately jumped, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw you. “Oh, my God!”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Hey, Jungkook. May I come in?”

He gaped at you for a few more seconds before shaking his head as if to break his shock induced trance. “Ye—uh. I mean, yes, you could, but hyung’s not home.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Just as you’d made to move ahead, Jungkook stopped you. His eyebrows were arched. “Unless, you don’t wanna see him and are here to grab your things—in which case, I really won’t let you in.”

You frowned. “What? No, I need to get my phone so that—”

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook blocked the door with an arm. “You’ve got to talk to hyung once before making any rash decisions, and I won’t—”

“Wait, what? Rash decisions?”

“—might be a bit young and inexperienced, but I will not be an accomplice in the ploy to get Tae hyung’s heart broken—”

“Heart broken?” You balked at him while Jungkook kept on spewing stuff that made absolutely no sense to you. “Jungkook?”

“—no clue what actually happened, but because you really should’ve stayed to talk instead of running away from hyung—”

“Jungkook!”

“—not been emotional, but this really kind of hurt me, too, and you have no idea how much hyung was—”

“For fucks sake, Jungkook!” You held the guy with both his shoulders, making him immediately shut up. “Are you even listening to me? Stop speaking!” 

He blinked. “Um—”

“Stop!” You held a finger in front of his face. “Zip it up. Zero noise. Absolute silence.”

At his nod, you retracted your hands and pushed past him to enter the dorm. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up your phone which was kept on the coffee table—just as Tae had told you it would be—and opened your chat box with him.

Tae❤ hey babe, im here ik im a bit early but dw, take your time i will wait i love u 🥺

SENT at 17:03

“I have come to talk to Tae and apologize, Jungkook,” you finally said, turning to face the guy who was still awkwardly standing at the open door. “Now please shut the door and go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna be here, waiting till he comes. I’ve texted him.”

Jungkook closed the door, very slowly, still looking at you warily. “You aren’t going to break up with him?”

“What? Of course not! I love him!”

He visibly relaxed, even letting a hint of a smile swim onto his face. “That’s good to hear. I thought I’d messed up.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose up in confusion. “Wait a second, you had messed up? How?”

Releasing an immensely loud sigh, Jungkook walked up to sit next to you on the couch. “Uh…” He bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Well, you all know how horrible I am with words, right? It’s half the reason why I don’t talk much. I get too upfront, accidentally, and it gets horribly worse if I’ve deduced a situation wrongly and spoken about it.”

You gave a small chuckle. Jungkook was adorable, at times, looking way younger than his age. Not that you knew his exact age. You were certain he called you noona just because Taehyung was his hyung, and not because he knew your exact age. You could turn out to be younger than him, and he’d give you the same amount of respect and formality. “You just did that to me, a few minutes back.”

Jungkook shut his eyes with a wince. “Exactly. I did something similar this morning, and said stuff that I had no way of knowing facts about. And…” he trailed off again, this time squinting at your...well, boobs.

You immediately straightened. “Yah! What are you looking at?”

Jungkook looked up with rounded eyes. “That’s my hoodie.”

You looked down at yourself and physically cringed. You were the worst girlfriend in the world to not be able to tell the difference between your boyfriend's hoodies and his roommate’s. “Oh, God. Oh no, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Jungkook gave a small, awkward nod. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”

You shook your head at yourself. “It’s been a horrible day, Kook.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with that."

You both sat in silence for a while, and you recalled how you’d imagined you’d get peace and quiet because Jungkook didn’t talk much. You mentally snorted. The guy hadn’t exchanged as many words with you in eight months, as he did today. 

Your eyes fell onto the TV in front of you. You squinted at the animated, white-ish balloon-ish things.

"Is that Soul?" you speculated.

Jungkook's cheeks and ears pinked. "Um, yes."

You lifted the remote and wordlessly unpaused the movie.

Settling on the carpet on the ground next to the coffee table, Jungkook munched on some nuts as you both watched. 

The movie was good – really good and engaging, so much so that you didn't check your phone for over an hour. When it pinged with a message, you suddenly recalled that Taehyung hadn't responded to your text. Sitting up, you grabbed the device to check.

18:23 Munchkin😾 (1 new message) 

You sighed in disappointment. 

Scrolling past your best friend's inquisitive message, you got to your chat with Taehyung. You frowned. The message hadn't been delivered, yet.

"Want some?"

You looked up with a start to find Jungkook's hand holding the bowl of nuts to you, his head still facing the TV. You cleared your throat. "Um, no, I'm good."

He retracted his hand without a word. "You okay, noona?"

You bit your lip. "Taehyung hasn't received my text, yet."

This time Jungkook twisted his neck to look up at you. The odd angle made it difficult to discern what expressions he held, but knowing him, it was probably surprise—his resident facial expressions, next to only occasional grimaces.

"He said he was at Jin oppa's and would come here as soon as I texted him, but…"

Jungkook hummed, turning back. "He is there, yes. We went together, but I left early because Yoongi hyung had to go to his studio. And I don't like to hangout with anybody else in that house."

You snorted at that, sobering the next second. You exhaled. "I think I should call him."

Jungkook gave a simple nod. You stood up with your phone to your ear. But then you stopped, mid-step. Taehyung's phone was switched off.

This was very unlike Taehyung. 

You pursed your lips in concern. He'd sounded fine—if not more than a little low—when you talked on the phone. He didn't sound angry, that is to say. Did something happen in the meanwhile? You wondered what it could be, because as far as you knew, you hadn't done anything wrong other than running off to Namjoon for help. But it had been nearly three hours since your talk, so you couldn't really be certain about Taehyung’s mood anymore.

You were at a loss. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just stay here and wait? 

But what if Taehyung was really mad for some reason and didn't come at all, and you had to stay the night? You were certain he wouldn't appreciate you staying in his dorm with his male roommate alone, overnight. Taehyung was far from an insecure or controlling boyfriend, but put in his shoes, even you would be irked if he were staying over at your dorm with just Wendy around.

You groaned at your chain of thoughts. What were you even thinking? This was so stupid. He would be here any minute, and this would all come to an end. You really wanted to slap your drunk self for putting you into this mess. Or, you realised, you could slap Hoseok for throwing the stupid party with memory wiping liquor, in the first place.

You sat back down on the couch with a thump. You were being unreasonably paranoid.

You took a few deep breaths, looking from your phone to the TV screen, and then at the back of Jungkook's head. "Jungkook?"

He hummed in response.

"I need some advice."

Jungkook turned to look at you, eyes wide in evident alarm. "No. Please no. I'm horrifyingly bad at that."

You clicked your tongue. "Tae's phone is switched off. He never turns his phone off, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked taken aback as well. He probably knew the fact. "Maybe it got discharged?"

You sighed. "Jin oppa's house has plenty of chargers and charging points."

Jungkook looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with his hands as he trained his gaze at your feet. "Um. I… I am not sure what…" he trailed off, biting down on his lip, looking beyond lost. "I don't even know what happened."

You shut your eyes and massaged your forehead with both hands. "What happened is that I got extremely embarrassed about…well, yesterday. Something—something happened which made me too nervous to face Tae. Coming here after so many hours, I thought I was ready to apologise and talk it through, but the longer it's taking him to get there, the more uncertain I'm getting."

You took a breath after you'd poured it all out. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to understand your situation and give advice. But he prompted you to tell him – and it flowed out.

You shut your eyes tighter.

"If—if you think you're not ready," Jungkook suddenly began after a heavy silence of a few extended seconds, "you can step back and take a breather. Take some time to yourself, analyse and then build up the courage. In my experience, saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum." 

His words gave you a pause. Namjoon and Munchkin's words came back to you. Taehyung was your boyfriend—you could talk to him, whenever. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Well maybe because you didn't want the situation to deteriorate further. Jungkook was right. You should rethink your decision of coming clean to Taehyung, lest you create more problems between the two of you by upsetting him.

"Does… does any of that help?" Jungkook hesitantly asked you.

You gave him a big smile "I think it does."

As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the door reached you. Jungkook's head whipped around to look at it.

You breathed in, preparing yourself.

“Why’s your phone turned off, hyung?” Jungkook accosted him at the door.

You saw your boyfriend over Jungkook’s shoulder. He was frowning, and was seemingly yet to notice you. “My phone?” He brushed a hand over his trousers’ pockets, dark, curly bangs brushing his eyelids as his head bent. You bit your lip. He was irresistibly handsome without even trying. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung enunciated, looking up at Jungkook very slowly. “I left it at Jin hyung’s. Did you say it was off?”

Taehyung stepped into the dorm, wide eyes immediately colliding with yours. “Um. Hey,” you squeaked, standing up.

“H—hi,” Taehyung stumbled on his words, eyes roving first on your face and then the rest of you. He momentarily frowned, probably recognizing Jungkook’s hoodie on you, and then met your eyes with a hesitant expression on his face. “How—how long were you waiting?”

You bit your lip. He seemed to be feeling guilty already. You reckoned it would be better to not add onto it. “Not long,” you simply responded.

Taehyung took baby steps towards you, while Jungkook glided around the place, shutting the door, turning the TV off, and then exited to his own room. You looked down at your feet, only looking back up when Taehyung’s own entered your vision. “Angel,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His deep brown eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate. “What happened?”

The simple question made tears prickle the back of your eyes. 

It was always so simple with Taehyung. He was never pretentious, never impatient, never expected the world out of you—and yet you did not share things with him like he deserved. Why did you always have to be so self conscious?

Something must have shown on your face, because the next second had Taehyung frowning and stepping forth to cup your face in both his palms.

“Hey, hey, what is it?” he murmured very softly, swiping his thumbs at your cheeks to wipe off the wetness trickling down your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay, come on,” he soothingly whispered before collecting you in his arms.

You rested your forehead on his collarbones, pulling your lower lip in to grab a hold of your emotions as you wound both your arms around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tae,” you mumbled into his skin.

He inhaled and then exhaled, almost as if in relief. “I love you too, baby. I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head.

Pulling away, Taehyung held you by your upper arms and bent to peer into your eyes. His olive green Cuban collar shirt swayed with his movement, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned chest. Realising how highly inappropriate it was to be thinking lascivious thoughts with tears in your eyes—when your boyfriend was trying to comfort you—you swallowed and focussed back on his eyes. 

“Now, tell me. What happened this morning?” Taehyung questioned you with a boundless softness in his gaze.

You cleared your throat. "Can we – can we move this to your room?"

Taehyung nodded, readily, wrapping his elegant fingers around your elbows to lead the two of you into his room. 

As you settled on the edge of his bed, your eyes caught your top from last night's outfit placed neatly folded at the top of Taehyung's dresser. You pursed your lips.

“So.” Taehyung sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulders into yours.

You licked your lips, gathering courage. “I…this is gonna sound bad, babe, and, um, insulting even, but…” You turned to meet his eyes, desperately searching for any recognition. But you were met with cluelessness, and a subtle hint of apprehension. You sighed. “I — I had too much to drink last night, Tae.”

You felt him stiffen. His eyes gave away nothing. You waited for a couple heartbeats, expecting some indication that he was catching onto what you were trying to imply. Taehyung said nothing, though, and his face remained unmoving.

You looked down at your lap, wringing your fingers together. “I don’t know if I had too much, or if the combination made it so, but… I don’t—” You cleared your throat when your voice broke, chancing a glance at your boyfriend who was still as a statue. “I don’t remember a thing from last night. It’s all…a blur.”

Taehyung seemed to have stopped breathing, too, he’d gone so still. Very anxiously, you lifted your gaze to look at him.

You almost wished you hadn't, though. He looked shattered. Crushing disappointment was all over his face, hitting you like a lead arrow, and he wasn’t even looking at you. 

You felt like running away, your cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. You tried to put yourself in Taehyung’s spot, employing your trusted tactic to discern how someone else must be feeling, but your head was too fuzzy with the unease you felt. You were mortified.

Taking a staggered breath in, you stood up on shaky legs. “I’m — I’m sorry, Tae,” you uttered, unsure if you were heard. “I really wish—”

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I understand,” Taehyung cut you off, suddenly, obviously trying to save face given the tight smile he had pulled up to flash at you beneath his saddened eyes. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, shaking your head very slowly. “No,” you said. “It’s not okay, Tae. I — I wanted to make it memorable, too. Cherish the memories for life, however cliché might that sound. But I… I really blanked out, Tae.”

Taehyung’s brows got a slight crease in them by the time you were finished. But his eyes—those damned pools of love that you’d gotten so used to seeing boundless love in—looked strangely defeated. It almost felt like you’d done more than not remember a night of sex. 

But then you reprimanded yourself by underlining how it wasn’t just any night of sex—it had been the first time you and the love of your life became one. Knowing how sentimental Taehyung was, it had to have hurt him tremendously. This time you were very easily able to put yourself in his place and realise that you’d be pretty pissed if he had no recollection of something precious to you. You took a step away, suddenly overwhelmed by immense guilt. 

“Did nothing come back to you?” Taehyung asked, lips pouted and eyes rounded. “After so many hours, too?”

You shook your head, slowly. “I really tried, baby.”

Taehyung looked unconvinced, taking you by surprise. 

He didn’t, by any means, think that you were lying about it, did he? You wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend’s overthinking brain.

“I think I — I need a break,” you blurted out, watching in horror how any remainder of color left Taehyung’s face. Jungkook’s words came back to you: saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum.

“A break?” Taehyung gawked at you.

You quickly shook your head. “A breather. Space. Some — some time to get over my embarrassment.”

Taehyung looked confused, but you couldn’t bear to wait and extend this conversation. Twisting in place, you rushed out of there, on your way to your own dorm, this time. 

Taehyung sipped on Hoseok’s cheap beer, unseeing gaze stuck on the TV as some football match played on the screen. Next to him, Seokjin and Hoseok sat with their own bottles in hand. They were, decidedly, much more aware of the game than he was. 

“Gah! That was a red card, come on!” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed at the referee.

Seokjin snorted. “This referee is blind.”

“Or sold,” Hoseok grumbled.

Taehyung blinked, unable to focus on the game however hard he stared. Shaking his head, he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.

His soul had almost left his body when you'd said you needed a break. You wanting to be away from him after last night would have been his biggest nightmare come true.

But then you asked for space. To get over your embarrassment.

Why were you embarrassed? He couldn't, for the life of him, decipher that one. Did you really regret last night that bad? Had you changed your mind? Or was it something else altogether?

But what the hell could it even be, then?

Hoseok cleared his throat, drawing Taehyung's attention to the redhead. "You could try out a new painting, Tae. It'd be a nice outlet, and, y'know? They say you create your finest art when you got a heavy heart."

"Pretty sure that's not what they say, Hobi," Seokjin deadpanned.

"Something along those lines, hyung, catch my drift." Hoseok scowled at Seokjin. “Art’s supposed to take your mind off stuff, right?”

Taehyung exhaled, proceeding to chug down the rest of the drink in his bottle. "I can't," he murmured. "Angel is…" He stopped, shut his eyes and exhaled. "She's been my biggest muse ever since I met her, hyung. I can't paint when we're fighting."

Seokjin noisily exhaled, puffing his nostrils up. "Then maybe you could—ah, I don't know, invest in a different sort of art?"

Taehyung frowned at the guy in confusion. Hoseok, though, seemed to have gotten onto something. His head of flaming red hair bobbed erratically. "Yes, yes! Great idea, hyung! You should come with me to the rehearsal hall for some time, Tae. It's been ages since you've been there. It'd be a good distraction, take your mind off all this disappointment and hurt."

Taehyung clicked his tongue. "I'm not disappointed. I'm—I'm just… just hurt."

Seokjin sighed. "You mean you aren't even the slightest bit irked that she used the excuse of missing memory to evade your…well. You know." He gesticulated with a hand around the other. "You are, aren't you?"

"Not really." Taehyung frowned and shook his head. "I mean, well. yes. Of course, I would've preferred if she didn't try to evade it and just talked to me. But maybe she really can't recall anything, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, what's the difference, either way? It all boils down to the fact that she has backed off. And that is what's…" He broke off, taking in a shaky inhale. "What's hurting," he finished on an exhale.

They all went silent for a while. Seokjn hummed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You love dance and you love Hobi’s routines, so… it could be therapeutic to you. But don’t force yourself, we’ll think of something else.” 

Taehyung exhaled, swiping a hand down his face. He really did love Hobi’s routines and it really had been ages since he’d been to the rehearsal hall. “No. No, I want to. I’ll join you tomorrow, Hobi hyung.” He passed the man a half smile, and got a full back. He huffed out a breath. “You guys wanna crack open something stronger than this?” he asked the two older guys, gesturing to his empty beer bottle.

Seokjin raised his hands in surrender. "I've got work, tomorrow."

But Hobi, the resident booze-man, grinned like a cheshire cat.

Your day had been hell, and your night was going to be, too.

After ignoring your calls for an hour, your best friends had texted you back telling you they were too busy to take your calls. They would have known, of course, what you’d talk about and prioritized their personal businesses above it.

You weren’t bitter about it, or anything…

Okay, you were. You were really really bitter.

Because Munchkin was at a party, trying to rope in some guy she’d had her sights on for a while. Needless to say, she was gonna be busy for the night. And Namjoon was working on some project for extra credits for his class tomorrow.

Your relationship being at the verge of splintering was, apparently, less important than a coveted hookup and extra fucking credits.

Your mother had sent you her customary checking in texts asking about your well being, and you'd made a whole hypothetical situation to ask her if temporary amnesia could be cured with some brain exercise.

Did you drink too much at that party you were going to? Are you okay?

You huffed a breath out, irritated but at the same time feeling really loved at your mother's accurate deduction of the situation. You texted her you were okay, she asked about Taehyung's well being, you said he was okay, too, and at the end she suggested you see a doctor if this felt too uneasy.

You thought about it for a while, but then realised a doctor wouldn't take you seriously. 

yeah right, mom! if docs started treating everyone with temporary amnesia on campus, he'd be dealing with nearly the entire student population

The conversation with your mother certainly failed to help in any way. You had no solution at your hands and your mind wasn't taken off it, too.

You stress-ate a pint of choco-chip icecream for dinner and watched reruns of Victorious on your laptop. You cried when Beck and Jade broke up. And then you slept with your laptop still running the show in the background.

You had a fitful night’s sleep, riddled with horrible nightmares switching between you begging Taehyung to tell you what you’d forgotten but him just crying because he was so hurt that you forgot in the first place, and Taehyung never wanting to talk to you again because he thought you were lying about forgetting your special night.

You finally sat up in your bed at close to six am. Having had enough with the mess in your head, you decided to beg your best friends to help you out, one more time.

Seventeen minutes past six of the morning saw you on a conference call with Namjoon and Munchkin.

“I went to bed at four, bitch, have some mercy—”

“And I didn’t sleep at all, I’ve been working on the project the whole night, and—”

“Guys!” you wailed. “Please help me out here! I am at my wit’s end, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I don’t know who else to talk to! I swear if I did, I would not be bothering you two like this!” You exhaled when they’d both quieted down. “Not that you’ve been much help, so far,” you added under your breath.

“I did not sign up for being insulted first thing in the morning!” Munchkin protested. “And Joon, what the hell is up with all your late night working sessions, lately? Don’t you get enough time during the day?”

The comment had you momentarily distracted from your own issue as you furrowed your brows. “Good point. He’s been spending more odd hours than usual at the library, too,” you said, recalling how Jackson had told you about Namjoon’s frequent nightly visits to the library.

“What? I—I do work during the day, guys,” Namjoon jumped to his defense, “but… the work’s a lot, okay? Also, almost the entirety of my Sunday went into comforting Angel. Being an economics major just eats up your time, okay? And—and I really need a couple extra credits—”

“Stop, you’re rambling,” Munchkin interrupted, sounding bored.

“And obviously lying,” you added with a shrug, even though they couldn’t see it.

“What? What? I’m not—”

“Honestly, Joon, nobody has time for your theatrics, okay? If you’re sneaking around with a girl—although I’m willing to bet my nail extensions you’re not—it’s cool. Do whatever,” Munchkin sounded half asleep, but what she said rang true with you, too.

“Absolutely. We won’t pry, and won’t judge.”

“It’s not a girl, guys, come on—”

“Already bet on it.”

“You mean it is something, then?” You squinted.

“Wait, how did this conversation go from Angel’s crisis call to a semi-intervention on me?” Namjoon protested, bringing you back to the ground.

You groaned. “Oh, yes. No, sorry, we don’t have time for diversions, right now. Help me resolve my crisis first.”

Munchkin clicked her tongue. “I still really fail to see what the big deal is? So drinking gave you amnesia like a total weirdo. Yeah, okay, it kinda sucks, but it’s not the end of the world! You two love each other! Move past this! Make new freaking memories, and get over it!”

You bit down on your lip. “I… I would have done that, eventually, but… you guys don’t know what happened last night.”

“Yeah, we do. Sort of. You left thirty seven messages in the groupchat, so we get the gist,” Namjoon reminded you.

“Okay, so you do know. So. Guys, it’s become a big deal because Taehyung has made it into one. His behaviour last night…” and you launched into a retelling of your whole encounter with Taehyung at his dorm.

For the better part of an hour, your dear best friends listened to you go on about how Taehyung seemed heartbroken because of your missing memory, and how you felt he didn’t even fully believe you when you said you didn’t remember anything. You also brought up, time and again, how this one incident was gonna end your relationship. 

“Okay, okay, hold on!” Namjoon finally interrupted your rampage. “This is all rubbish!”

You stuck your bottom lip out, turning to your side in your bed. Wendy had been out the entire night, last night. You wondered what she was up to because she wasn't the type to sleep around or go to parties. Maybe she had a sleepover with some of her girlfriends. You honestly couldn’t strain your mind over this on top of everything else, so you shut your eyes. 

“Firstly, Taehyung isn’t gonna break up with you because he suspects you’re lying about the memory loss. That’s just stupid and unlike him, and I’ve known him longer than you,” Namjoon continued. “Also, I still think the key to this whole issue is communicating. You need to open your mouth and ask the guy what happened last night. Don’t be demotivated by his saddened face, push through.”

“But… you know, Jungkook said to me that sometimes saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum. And I literally said the absolutely worst combination of words I could to Tae, last night! Almost made him think I was trying to break up with him. How shitty—”

“I bet he’s not even thinking about it right now. I bet my hair extensions on it,” Munchkin interrupted with a snort. “He’s probably sleeping off another hangover. Boys always end up drowning the conflicts in their lives in alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes. “As opposed to what you do? And stop betting your extensions on things.”

“But, she’s kinda not wrong, Angel,” Namjoon intervened, “you’re definitely overreacting a bit. Jungkook has hardly ever known what he’s talking about, all through his life. You’re letting his words affect you? All you can do, right now, is have a decent conversation with Tae where you hold his hand, look into his eyes and ask him to tell you what exactly happened last night.” He paused. “The night before, now, I guess, ’cause it’s morning…”

You sighed, opening your eyes to blink at Wendy’s empty bed. “I don’t know, guys… He looks so freaking shattered and disappointed every time I try to talk to him, it just feels like a slap to the face.”

“Ugh, stop thinking so much about everything,” Munchkin groaned. “And if talking to him seems like such a humongous challenge, then talk to someone you know he would have confided in.”

You sat up at that, eyes open wide. “Jin! Jin oppa! Tae shares everything with him, and he even went straight to his place after I left his dorm, too! He would know everything.”

“Now, now,” Namjoon began with a nervous lilt, “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to ask around when you could ask—”

“Shut up, Namjoon, it’s a fantastic fucking idea,” Munchkin cut him off.

“Yes. Yes, it’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, checking the time. “It’s past eight, he would’ve left for the restaurant. I can make it after my Scriptwriting class and catch him during his lunch hour! Thank you, guys, thank you, so much!”

“Great to be of service. Now let me go back to sleep, I’m skipping all my classes today,” Munchkin muttered into the phone.

“For the record, I still don’t think it’s such a great idea—”

“Nobody cares, Namjoon, go back to sleep. You have a boring-as-fuck class in less than two hours.” With that, Munchkin disconnected your three-way call.

You tossed your phone to the side and laid back on your bed. This could actually work out. You could ask Jin to fill you in on what’s been going on in Taehyung’s head, and then go talk to your boyfriend with full preparation.

Noon couldn’t come sooner.

Jin’s face was pretty expressionless when he got into his usual lunch booth and met your eyes instead of his girlfriend’s. He didn’t look surprised, at all. He literally didn’t even blink, just gave you a once over and reached for his bag to fetch his lunch out. That should have been your warning sign, but blinded by your own selfish goal, you missed it.

“Oppa, hello,” you respectfully greeted him, wringing your hands in your lap. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced, but I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming if I told you beforehand. You know why.” You looked down at the table, at Jin’s lunch of some salad and a smoothie. “I—I think you do, at least.”

You waited for Jin to say something, but he simply kept chewing. His eyes looked at you so blankly, he almost seemed to be looking through you. This was nothing like the Jin you knew. Either he was in a really disturbed state of mind, or he was really mad at you for what happened between you and Taehyung. 

You suspected it was the latter.

“Um,” you couldn’t find the right words to say. “I—I tried talking to Tae about this, but he gets really upset and unbelieving and I… I lose courage.” You swallowed. You were losing courage now, too. “So—so, oppa, did he… Taehyung, he… what did he say about last night?” You bit your tongue. “I mean the night before. Hobi—Hobi oppa’s party’s night.” You focussed your gaze at your sweaty hands resting in your lap. “I drank God knows what combination of alcohol, and…and can’t seem to recall the events that followed us leaving the party. Taehyung is really worked up about it all, so…” You looked up to meet Jin’s flat stare. “Will you tell me what happened that night? What—what Taehyung’s been so worried about?”

Jin sipped at his smoothie, smacked his lips, and had just opened his mouth to say something, when a familiar voice rained down on the two of you from the side. “Well, this is fabulous!” 

You jumped, snapping your head to the side to see Jin’s girlfriend standing close to your booth in her waitress outfit, lunchbox in hand and rage on her face.

“So, now you have engagements during lunch, too. Great. Just great.”

“Unnie, I…” You trailed off as the woman silenced you with a sharp glare. Tossing another one at her boyfriend, she twisted on her heels and left the break room. “I… what did I do wrong? She—she did recognize me, right?” you nervously asked the stoic wall sitting before you.

“Taehyung is upset because you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of this fictitious memory loss—that doesn’t happen in real life, mind you—to get out of the promise you made to him while drunk,” Jin told you in a slightly high pitched, obviously enraged, and nearly unrecognisable voce. 

You gaped at him. “I really do not remember, oppa! Why would I want to forget about my first…” You slowly came to a halt as it hit you. “Wait, what did you say? The promise I made to him? What promise?” you rasped, bewildered.

Jin scowled at you. "What first time were you going to speak of? I don’t know about the intimate details of your relationship, and I don't want to, because that isn’t material here.” You ducked your head as your cheeks pinked. “You two drunkards were getting all emotional about loving each other a lot and wanting to stay together forever, so Tae proposed the idea of sealing it with a ring.”

You gasped. “I—a promise ring?”

“Mm hmm,” Jin hummed with pursed lips. “And then, when you got sober and realised you shouldn't have made that commitment in a haste, you ran out on him, instead of telling him straight up. And since then you’ve been confusing him with mixed clues instead of properly talking to him about what you want.” Jin’s jaw was set. “Why can’t you just have a proper talk, huh? Why do you women have to be so mysterious and expectant about things? Use your freaking words, for one damn time in your life! Men can’t get into your head to guess shit! Say it, and maybe we’ll be able to resolve it! Use words to describe what you actually want, and maybe I'd be able to get it done!”

Jin was breathing hard, his eyes were blown wide and a few veins in his forehead looked close to popping. You swallowed, feeling nervous, confused, dumbstruck and a tad bit scared for your life, at the same time. “Uh… you?”

Jin blinked, and the hazy, mad look lifted from his gaze. His lips parted and he sighed very noisily. “No, not I. It’s just… I started to project my personal issues onto you. Sorry about that, kid.” He forwarded a hand to pat your shoulder in apology. “You got what you came here for, though, right?”

“I… yeah, I guess. Although…” I cannot believe that that is what I forgot. No wonder Taehyung looked so downtrodden.

Gosh, you were a fool!

“Thank you so much, oppa!” you announced to Jin, getting up with a new spring to your steps. “I’ll get going, now.”

You bounded out of the restaurant. You literally could not believe what you’d just learned. Smacking a palm against your face, you shook your head at yourself. 

You concentrated, again, this time to recall conversations from last night instead of actions. And surprisingly enough, some of the fog cleared away as you started recalling things…

…you are beyond toasted in this shimmery polyester top and leather shorts you’d worn as your costume. The minute you step into Taehyung’s room, you are scrambling to get out of them.

Your boyfriend chuckles as he locks the door after himself. “You’re more than welcome to take it off, and more, babe.”

Your mind has gotten kind of hazier than you’re used to. But knowing how Tae always makes fun of you for being a lightweight — which you’re really really not, Tae just holds his liquor better than you do — you avoid bringing up your state of mind. You laugh at his teasing remark.

Within seconds, you have thrown off your top and shorts, and are snuggled between Taehyung’s covers. He himself has stripped down to his boxers. You give a lazy smile as your eyes rove his torso. “What happened to wearing pajamas when we cuddled?” you tease, sleepily.

Taehyung gets in bed next to you, rolling over to pull you to his chest. He smirks down at you, complete with his vampire makeup. “Too balmy tonight. And too tired to find pajamas.”

You giggle, burrowing yourself into the warm, soft skin of his chest. You poke a finger into his pectoral muscle.

“Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re muscly, babe. Those oversized clothes hide you well,” you observe, licking your lips as your hands smooth over his chest and stomach.

“And you’re sexy,” he responds in a rasp, eyes stuck on the cleavage exposed by your bra. “Do you usually sleep with this on?” he asks, snapping the strap against your shoulder.

You wince, shaking your head. “It’s too hot to wear a shirt, so…”

Taehyung pulls you in closer, staring deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Despite all the ridiculous makeup, your heart skips a beat at his intense stare. You nod.

His hands slide behind you to unhook your bra. You gasp when the clasp is released. “Relax, baby. It’s just me,” Taehyung whispers to you in a soothing voice. “I won’t even look if you ask me to. You know that, right?”

You do. But you also do. Want him to look, and more. As the garment is pulled away from your body, slowly, Taehyung’s eyes remain stuck to yours. Your own water at the love, admiration and respect you feel for him in the moment. Actually, not just in the moment. Always.

A sob escapes your lips. You rush to wrap yourself in his arms, again. “Baby?” he sounds worried. “What—what happened, sweetheart?”

“I just love you a lot, Tae,” you speak into his skin in a nasally, snot-filled voice. “A lot. You’re my most precious gemstone in the whole world. Never leave me, baby. Never ever.”

Taehyung presses a multitude of kisses to the crown of your head, and you feel wetness seep into your shoulder when he nuzzles your nape. “I love you too, my babylove. And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

“Promise?” you mumble. “This is forever?”

You feel him nod against you. “Forever, baby. I promise.” He pulls away from you, eyes still on your face as he wipes away your tears and the obviously ruined makeup if his own is anything to go by. “Do you want to seal it? With a promise ring?”

You gasp. This is the stuff from teenage romance novels that you’ve always dreamed of. “I… Yes! Yes, Tae, oh my God, yes, yes, please yes!” you happily chant, grabbing both his hands and wringing them around as you roll in the bed.

Taehyung chuckles, calming you down by pulling you in for a kiss. The familiar heavenly feel of his pillowy lips has you quieting down and kissing him back. His palm slowly travels up the curve of your waist to curl around the side of your breast. Your breath hitches.

Taehyung brushes his tongue against your lower lip, and pulls back. “Is this okay?” he asks, giving a slight squeeze.

You almost squeak at the sensation, rapidly nodding your head like a dummy. Smiling, he captures your lips again and massages his palm over the peak of your breast, squeezing when you moan into his mouth. You lose yourself in his taste and touch.

His lips travel lower to your jaw, peppering kisses on their way. You release a sigh of bliss, hands carding through his hair. His teeth scrape over your collarbone, quickly latching onto the skin of your neck. You cannot hold back the whine that leaves you, sensations travelling down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Mine,” he breathes into your skin, sponging kisses over the bite he has just left. “Only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you breathe out, rolling on your back as he presses his face against your sternum.

“You’ve made me the happiest man, bub,” he breathes onto your chest, a finger drawing patterns around your navel as he cuddles into you. “I’ll get you that ring and prove myself to be the best boyfriend, in the world. I’ll love you more than you ever thought was possible.”

Tears trickle down your eyes at his words. “And I’m gonna be the best girlfriend in the world to you, baby. You’re my dream come true. My real life prince charming.”

He doesn't say anything for a while, just hugs you tighter. His lips feathers soft kisses to the tops of your breasts, and a hand plays with imaginary patterns on your stomach. And then you feel his head getting heavier. You want to ask him if he’s sleepy, but you cannot even open your eyes with how heavy they’ve gotten. You breathe out as he holds you closer, and slowly drift into sleep...

Your eyes watered as the scenes played out in your head, everything you’d been unable to recall gradually coming back. You realised you’d been going about it the wrong way, trying to recall your passionate moments, when it had all been an extremely emotional affair.

You bit your lip as you called Taheyung’s cellphone. You were gonna beg for his forgiveness and then kiss him silly. You loved this boy so much, oh God.

The phone was picked up after three rings. “Hi, kiddo!”

You blinked at the unexpected voice and greeting, but then recognised it to be Hobi’s. Oh how you wished you could yell at the guy for making your life miserable by mixing drinks at his damn party. You exhaled, though, and tried to clear your head. “Hobi oppa, hey. Where’s Tae?”

“At the Kappa rehearsal hall with me!” Hobi cheerfully told you. “We’re doing a k-pop routine today. You know how he gets with those, right? He’s been practising this one move that he can’t get right for so long, ugh. Do you need a message conveyed?”

You frowned to yourself. It had been a while since Taehyung visited the rehearsal halls. Was he trying to distract himself from the disaster you’d brewed up for him? Very likely. “No, no, I’m gonna…” You stopped yourself. Maybe an element of surprise would work better. “I’ll call later, when he’s done,” you said, instead, already mapping a way down to the university campus and the rehearsal hall as you hailed a cab.

You received Hobi’s text on your way, stating that they were all leaving for the ice cream parlor opposite the building and that you may contact Taehyung now if you wanted to. You were kind of grateful they’d all left the rehearsal hall. You weren’t sure how you’d call Taehyung aside in an echoing hall with mirrors and Hobi’s dance team. And what would you do if he refused you? You weren’t prepared for that kind of humiliation. An ice cream shop, you could do.

On reaching your destination, you exited the cab, determined. You looked up at the striking capital K embossed in gold atop the Kappa rehearsal hall. Then you turned to look across the street and spotted a quaint, cosy looking ice cream parlour painted in beautiful pastels. You crossed the road with hurried steps.

You took a deep breath in. You were gonna apologise your butt off, and then kiss him in the middle of this very place if you had to. God, you felt so guilty! You were gonna make this right.

As you pushed the door open, the entry bell tolled, alerting the girl behind the cash counter of your presence. As she flashed you a bright smile, you realised she looked familiar. She had a really kind face. Maybe you’d seen her around the campus, maybe she was one of Wendy’s friends. 

You stepped in and returned her greeting with a small smile of your own. Then you looked around to spot Taehyung and Hobi’s group. Hobi caught your eye first, standing out with his fiery red hair.

You walked over. “Hey… everyone,” you greeted the table, awaiting Hobi’s reaction and hoping he’d be kinder than Jin. Although half of Jin’s ire seemed to have come from his personal troubles which you really had known nothing about beforehand. You smiled when Hobi’s surprised eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Oh! Hey, kid!” Hobi greeted you with a huge grin, easing your worries. “You, uh, you came here, whoa!”

You gave a bashful shrug, awkward because you didn’t recognise anyone other than Hobi on the table.

And then you did a double take at the table. You didn’t recognise anyone, indeed! Where was Taehyung?

Hobi noticed your searching eyes. “Oh, Tae went back to the hall, he’d left his phone. He’ll be back in five.”

You exhaled. That wouldn’t do. “I’ll catch him back there, no problem.”

Hobi shrugged his shoulders, without question. “He’d be in hall G.”

Nodding him a quick thanks, you took off, leaving the ice cream shop, and crossed the road back to the rehearsal hall. As you stepped foot onto the linoleum floor of your university's most coveted rehearsal hall, you realized you’d never been here before. Past the revolving gates, you encountered a small reception area where you had to show your college ID to get yourself checked in.

When the man passed your ID back to you over the counter, you made your way down the corridor which was lined by various gates that were numbered alphabetically. These were probably the individual halls. The corridor, you noticed, ran quite long. God, how huge was this place?

On reaching the door marked with a G, you stopped. The door wasn’t fully shut like all the others you’d walked past, right now.

You gave it a slight push, peeking in. Taehyung’s shapely butt greeted you as the guy leant over on the floor, rummaging around for something. Probably his phone. You gaped at the sight for a few extended seconds, before realising how you were being a creep.

You cleared your throat and gave the door a firmer push, opening it wide enough for you to step through. Taehyung’s wide eyes met yours in the mirrored wall he was sat before. You sucked in a sharp breath as his attractiveness smacked you in the face, yet again. Dressed in plain black joggers and a loose fitted t-shirt, he should have had nothing on your white colored high waisted shorts and pale blue button up, and yet he looked like a freaking Greek God, while you...well. You really just looked like a potato trying to play dress-up in front of this guy, swear to God.

He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his eyes following your movements through the mirror as you stepped in. His gaze seemed apprehensive and he really didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak, anytime soon. “Hi,” you whispered through a scratchy throat.

Taehyung’s eyes travelled down your body, making you blush from the inside out as they lingered on your legs. “Hey,” he finally said, audibly exhaling as he sat down, this time, to rummage through some towels and water bottles lying on the floor next to the wall length mirror. “You done with your breather, overnight, then? Can you give me a ring? I can’t find my phone.”

You bit your lip at his caustic tone and taunt. And also at the lack of an address. No babe, no angel? You’d really hurt him. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you quickly said, holding back the flood that was filling up your heart as you fished your phone out from your pocket.

The buzz of a cellphone’s vibration filled up around you. Taehyung bounced back to his feet, attentively kicking off a soaked towel, and there, on the floor, you saw his phone. You disconnected the call as he picked the device up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, breaking your heart with the formality and the repetitive lack of address.

He walked up to you on careful steps, eyes scanning your face as if accessing something. You breathed in. “Tae, can we talk?”

His eyebrows did a thing where one of them rose and the other lowered, very slightly. You nearly creamed your panties. “Depends,” he gruffly said, looking away to inspect his phone. “Are you gonna run off in the middle of it, again?”

You winced, ducking your head in shame. “No. No, absolutely not. Never again, I promise,” you mumbled. You looked up and caught a brief glimpse of his shattered expressions before he pulled on his mask of indifference mingled with slight bother. You felt like shit. “I’m so so so sorry, baby,” you said without any ado. “I acted like a complete idiot and—and really hurt you.”

Taehyug’s whole body seemed to deflate. With his lips pursed and eyes shut, he shook his head. “That you did, babe. That you did.”

You clamped your lower lip between your teeth. “Forgive me? Please?” you breathed out in a really desperate voice, ready to beg on your knees if you had to.

Taehyung opened his eyes with a tired sounding, noisy exhale. “It’s… well, of course, I’ll forgive you, Angel. You’re the love of my life,” he said with a small smile while his eyes still emanated immense sadness. He looked so heartbroken and lost that you just wanted to give him a tight hug. “But, baby. Why? Why did you go through all this trouble of faking memory loss? You ran out on me twice within twelve hours, you know. It hurt like a bitch that you couldn’t just talk to me about wanting to back out. I would’ve understood, baby. You were drunk and emotional, and I—”

You gasped when it hit you. Faking memory loss? Wanting to back out? Oh no. “Tae!” you interrupted him, stepping forth to put both your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to splay them and push them into his toned flesh. “You’ve still got it wrong. I didn’t fake any memory loss, baby. I genuinely did not remember. I promise. I didn’t lie.”

Taehyung frowned, looking confused. “What? But…why did you leave like that in the morning, then?” he asked in a soft voice, looking vulnerable as his hands came up to loop around your wrists.

Your skin as well as your heart warmed at his familiar touch, and this time you did splay your fingers out a bit on his pectorals. “I…” You felt your cheeks and ears heating up when you realized you’d have to actually tell him what you’d assumed you’d forgotten. “Um, Tae, we—uh, we were nearly naked when we woke up, you remember?”

Despite the situation, a corner of his lips ticked up and his hands left your wrists to wrap around your waist. “Uh huh, vividly. What of it?”

You felt the heat climb down your ears, to your neck. You looked down at his beautiful collarbones to avoid the intensity his eyes suddenly shone with. “Well, it — it made me think that maybe, you know… stuff might have happened between us. Um, you know…?”

When you felt his hold slacken, you looked up to find Taehyung gaping at you with his jaw dropped really far down and eyes as round as golf balls. “You thought we had sex?” he squeaked, face contorting in horror. “No…you thought you forgot that we had sex,” he corrected himself, horror growing on his face as you pursed your lips in silent acquiescence.

“I felt horribly embarrassed,” you quietly confessed, making his grip on you tighten again. “Our first sexual encounter was — well, is going to be something I remember and cherish for the rest of my life. I hated myself for blanking out on it.”

“But you could’ve asked me!” he desperately said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Yeah, about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I kinda did, but somebody just gave me suggestive glances and confuddling freaking words that concreted my doubt of us having had sex!”

Taehyung grimaced. “Yeah, I was tryna tease, but it came back to bite me in the butt.”

You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle, sliding your palms past his shoulders to grip his neck.

“As it stands, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at you with parted lips and big, innocent eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that.”

You looked in his now regretful eyes with love bubbling in your chest. “How could you ever think I would wanna back out, baby?” you whispered, leaning in close enough to taste his favorite strawberry milkshake on his breath. “You really are my most precious gemstone in the whole world, Tae,” you relayed your words from that night, making his eyes widen. “My dream come true. My real life prince charm—”

With a growl Taehyung captured your lips in his. You melted in his embrace, nails digging into the back of his neck as you drank your fill of him. Your lips moved in sync, the most natural rhythm in the world to you. You had missed this, missed him so much, in just a day. You really couldn’t live without this boy. He was your whole world.

His tongue swiped past the seams of your lips to delve deeper, and you allowed him entry with a deep moan, going lax in his arms as he plundered your mouth. You felt him move you around, and then a cold surface was pressing into your back. Taehyung sidled up to you, his planes molding smoothly into your curves. You sighed into his mouth, tasting him to the fullest as you ran your own tongue over the ridge of his upper teeth. His chest vibrated with a groan, making you shiver.

You closed your teeth around his lower lip and sucked, making him gasp and push against you harder. His own teeth scraped against your upper lip. Goosebumps spread all over your body.

His arms left your waist to pull at your own, slowly travelling down your shoulders, to encircle your wrists and pin them next to your head. He pulled away with a heaving chest, and you gasped in a large breath. Your eyes fluttered open.

He looked good enough to eat with his eyes shuttered, dark hair brushing his miles long lashes, and lips cherry red with your kisses. “I love you so so much, my babylove,” he whispered, strawberry scented breath washing over your face.

You inhaled his essence. Your eyes watered at the love reflected in his own. “I love you, too, Tae. I love you forever.”

Pinned between him and, you could now tell, the mirror, your heartbeat quickened when he licked his lips. Without another word, he leant down to sponge open mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Tae,” you breathed out, “we’re in...publi—ah!” you broke on a gasp when he licked a strip up to your jaw.

Your eyelashes fluttered as he came back up to look into your eyes with his own darkened in lust. “You didn’t cover the marks, did you?”

Your breathing almost stopped at his deep octave. Nearly trembling in his grasp, you shook your head. “I w—w—wore a shirt to… hide ’em,” you managed to breath out, going insane under his heated stare.

He let go of your arms to unbutton the collar of your shirt. You looped your fingers through the waistband of his joggers, chewing on your lower lip when he undid another button. And another. And then another. “You look really fucking sexy today, by the way,” he grumbled into your neck, leaning in to lave his tongue over the deep purple marks he’d left there. “Love the shorts.”

You bit back a whimper when his teeth scraped against the flesh just beneath your collarbone. 

“I happen to remember another mark,” he spoke into your skin, nose dragging down your sternum and sinking into your cleavage. One of his fingers came up to drag against the top seam of your bra. In a swift motion, he scooped the cup down to free your right boob. One of his fingers came up to encircle your nipple, making it peak immediately. Humming in satisfaction, he moved the shapely digit up to rub against the mark you remembered he’d left there. “Would you look at that.” His voice was now a growl, hot breath warming the skin of your breast as he spoke. “My baby looks so pretty.”

That was your last warning before Taehyung was engulfing your peak into his mouth. You stopped breathing. Frozen in place, your thighs tingling at the sensation and your core clenching in anticipation, a breathless heave left you when his tongue flicked against the pebbled nipple. You desperately clutched onto him for dear life, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt at the waist and the other coming up to grip a tuft of his hair. “Tae...hyung,” you whined, eyes screwed shut as he sucked hard.

He let go of your boob with a pop, only to tease his mark with kitten licks. You were gonna die. 

One of his hands glided over one of your thighs, hooking under your knee to lift your leg up and slot himself further into you. Your eyes flew open when you felt the stiffness between his legs. He felt hard. And he felt huge. Gulping, you tugged at his hair to pull him away. He separated from you with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly as if to focus on your face as he breathed through his wet, rosy, parted lips.

Sexy fucking beast.

As you looked into his crazed eyes, he pressed harder against you, pushing his length against the crotch of your shorts. You whimpered, your fists tightening on him when the zipper of your shorts bumped into your clit. Taehyung’s eyes lit up with interest. He repeated the motion. You threw your head back, giving up when he picked up pace, rubbing against you with his own breathing laboured.

Sweat beaded your forehead, and his hand came up to support the back of your neck, palm of the other still holding up your leg to provide him with the required leverage. You let out a guttural moan when he leant in to lick at your nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Tae…” you sighed, attempting to collect some semblance of your sanity, but failing.

Taehyung sped up, almost rutting against you, and you rolled your hips against his to match the pace. His mouth latched onto your neck, shooting off sparks down to your core and fueling the fire bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to combust. “My baby,” he grumbled into your ear, scraping his teeth against the flesh behind it. Your entire body shuddered. “Only mine,” he growled again.

You nodded blindly, gasping when he bit down on your flesh. His hand suddenly left your neck to brush down your front, tweaking your nipple, and settled onto the waistband of your shorts. His eyes met yours through the haze of lust you two were choking on, and you gave him a nod of consent. He deftly unbuttoned the garment, hips not ceasing for a moment as his fingers glided down your abdomen. 

The first contact his fingers made with your clit was explosive. Your back arched off the wall, mouth falling open on a silent scream. He nudged against your bundle of nerves twice, before moving down your wetness to sink two of his gorgeously slender fingers into you. You had been flooding your panties since the moment your eyes met. Both his fingers slid right in. His hips stuttered to a halt, lips falling open on a gasp. Your hand left his head to clutch at his shoulder, pulling him in further when he let go of your knee.

“You are soaking, baby,” he breathed, awe and surprise spilling off his throaty timbre. His fingers curved in you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that had taken you months to locate properly. He did it in under five seconds, and now he was playing you like a violin. You were gonna die!!! Your eyes fell shut again. His fingers were merciless, massaging your insides and pushing against your warmth. “Yes, you like that? Do you like that baby, hm?”

You managed a broken nod, gasps layering on one on top of the other. “T—Tae…Tae…”

“Come on, my love. Let go,” he whispered, swiping his tongue over your trembling lips before latching onto them.

A stroke of thumb against your clit, and you fell apart with a vibrating groan into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach suddenly expanded into a tsunami of sensations that travelled down to every single nerve ending in your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as waves over waves of blinding, white pleasure crashed into you. Your legs jittered beneath you, spasming beyond your control.

It took you longer than a few seconds to come back to the land of living. You were not used to this.

You opened your eyes excruciatingly slow, as if waking up from unconsciousness. But when you did, Taehyung had already extracted his hand back from you, righted your bra, buttoned up both of your garments, and was now licking your wetness off his fingers with his eyes shut. The sight made you thump back against the wall, jolting his hand that was holding onto your waist and making him open his eyes in surprise.

You looked at him from under your lashes, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “What…” you panted, “the hell…”

Taehyung had a starved look in his eyes when he met yours that, despite just having had the best orgasm of your entire life, made you wanna throw him on his back and ride him to the high heavens. “I take it you liked that,” he murmured, cradling your waist in his arms.

“Liked it? Are you insane?” you scoffed. “Taehyung, I…” you heaved a breath out, picking up your leaden arms to rest against his shoulders. “I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable and at the same time protected.

Taehyung, contrary to your expectations, gave you a sincere smile instead of the smirk you’d envisioned. “Makes me the happiest man. I love you so much, you know?”

You giggled, pulling your lips in. “I love you, too, you insanely insanely sexy man,” you teased, making him scrunch up his nose in embarrassment. Something poked your thigh when you shuffled closer to him, and you gasped. “Babe, what about you… your… um.” Your wide eyes pointed down at his nearly fully erect member. 

Taehyung gave a laugh. “Well, we can always go back to the dorms and take care of it together,” he suggested, making your cheeks flame up and your battered pussy reignite in excitement. “I was dry humping you like a thirteen-year-old. Couldn’t let our first sexual encounter be about that.”

“You were lucid enough to think about all that?” you asked him, genuinely curious.

“No, that was a lie.” Taehyung gave you a bashful shake of head. “I was a goner, babe. I just…” His tongue came out to lick at his lower lip. “I just had this sudden urge to feel you. Couldn’t control it.”

You shakily exhaled. “Your fingers are amazing. No, you are amazing,” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. You suddenly pulled back with your eyes wide. You looked around the hall, frenetically. “Wait, this place doesn’t have cameras, does it?”

Taehyung laughed with his lips pursed. “Of course not, darling. Who do you think I am?”

“A really sexy guy who missed his girlfriend?” you teased again, and this time, he kissed you in retaliation.

Pulling away, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Wait,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for something.

You had a guess what it could be. 

Pulling out a plastic case that obviously housed a ring, Taehyung sucked in his lower lip as he looked at you. Pinning you against the mirror, he popped the box open between your faces. Your eyes left his to look at the ring — a simple, silver band with a dainty knot embossed on it. Your eyes watered.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled through a clogged throat.

“My angel, my other half, the love of my life,” Taehyung whispered, paying no heed to the tear that travelled down his cheek, “do you promise to be mine forever?”

You sobbed. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you nodded, frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I promise to be yours forever.”

He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Sobs wracked the two of you as you hopped into his arms, tucking your legs around his waist when he lifted you off the floor. “I love you so much, oh baby,” he sobbed into your neck.

“I love you, too, my love, I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, after crying for a while, admiring how cute the ring looked on your hand, ensuring that Taehyung wasn’t even the slightest bit hard, and nearly leaving his phone behind again, the two of you exited rehearsal hall with your entwined hands swinging between you. 

“So,” Taehyung suddenly commented, a sly smirk on his face. “Bet you can’t get amnesia about coming for me in Hobi hyung’s rehearsal hall, huh? Even if you tried? Mission accomplished!” 

You gasped, raining down smacks on him right there, on the side of the road. He was gonna tease you about your wrong interpretation of that night, forever, it seemed.

“Hey, I was kidding!” Taehyung exclaimed, sheltering himself with his arms. “Let’s go ask hyung what he mixed with the vodka that gave you amnesia in the first place!” 

You stopped with your attack. That seemed like a great idea. You were dying to ask the man that, yourself. “Let’s.”

As you two walked back to the ice cream shop, your ring glinted, reflecting sunlight. You looked at Taehyung who was grinning to himself. 

You were the happiest, today, that you had ever been in your life.

note: angst by the virtue of miscommunication is my fav sort of angst to write. in the original draft, this story was to end when OC got back to Tae's dorm to sort things out, but then my mind said naAAHHH. mORE ANGST!!! lmao, anyways. thank you for reading! jin's story should be up next, if all goes according to plan. wait around~ 😘💕

© bangtae-sohotddaeng | 2021

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at���

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback 

[bluemoonsunrise]

Demons and Savages

pairing: tsu’tey and human!avatar driver (fem presenting)

content warnings: slight nsfw?, graphic language, alien vs human differences, unconventional grief, the RDA sucks, fuck u miles quaritch, tension you could cut with a knife, enemies to lovers. (also, i don’t like to capitalize sentences on tumbler :3)

word count: …idk >_<

pov: 2nd person so you can add yourself in. for writing/plot purposes, your character is named eris ramsey. i’ll use the name sparingly but i can’t take myself seriously writing y/n— so please just work with me here. i promise it’ll be worth it. (i hope)

< previous chapter

———🌌———

SUMMARY: earth was dying and your sister was, too, but cancer killed her faster than humans were killing earth. when she passed, she not only left behind an empty apartment full of memories but a billion dollar avatar without a driver. in a desperate attempt to not waste that money, the program she had spent the last five years preparing to join recruited you— her twin. of course, you agreed. there was nothing left on earth for you. there was nothing left on earth for anyone— that’s why people like your sister were sent off to pandora.

when your sister had spoken of pandora, it seemed like a dream.

the RDA promised it would be like a safari adventure.

truth was that pandora is beautiful. beautiful and unlike anything else across the whole of the universe. it is breathtaking— and that’s because what chases you through the forest hunts with the intent to kill; so you best run like hell even if your lungs are on fire. beasts and monsters of all kinds lurk out of sight waiting for the right moment to kill you dead— but none are as dangerous as him.

the blue shadow with the bow.

chapter three

— twilight river —

the floor was cold on your bare feet. as you climbed down from the bunk that you shared with jake, you were quiet as to not wake him— and norm who slept just across the room. you slipped on a pair of socks and pushed your hair out of your face. grabbing a sweater from off the coatrack and your keycard, you snuck out of your room.

you couldn’t sleep.

at this hour, the avatar labs were empty. four in the morning was no time for anyone to be up, but you could not settle. you could not rest. all you wanted to do was be where things were simpler.

the glass doors to the link-room slid open as you pressed your keycard to the sensor. gathering your sweater closer to you, you made your way inside. it smelled of soil and the sting of sterile alcohol. you had grown to like the smell.

it smelled, too, of cigarettes.

your stomach dropped as you saw her. she was sat at her desk with a smoking cigarette clinging to her lip. her glasses were low on her nose and she leaned over to steal glances at what lay magnified under her microscope as she typed away on her tablet.

“what the hell are you doing up? aren’t you tired from all the running around you do out there?” grace asked.

she knew it was you.

who else would break protocol?

link-pods were only in use from the hours of 8am sharp until — with the acceptation of you seeing as your body stayed in home tree — 9pm. no one was allowed to start earlier or end later unless having been approved by grace. with how late you usually returned, there was no way in hell grace would let you start early.

but you wanted to try anyways.

“i was curious,” you said as you made your way through the rows of desks and shelves. you kept your distance but stood on your tippy toes to see what she was documenting at this hour. “when i spoke to the tsahik, she said that she knew you. does that mean you could come to home tree?”

“no.” grace said. she took a long drag of her cigarette. you thought she would have said more but she only leaned back over the microscope.

“do you know tsu’tey?” you dared to ask.

“the hardass in line to become olo’eyktan after eytukan? yes. i’m familiar with him. he’s the one who saved you, isn’t he? what a lucky duck you are.” grace said with a shake of her head.

“he— he’s going to become the next olo’eyktan?” you asked softly. you hadn’t known that.

“yep,” grace said, popping the p. “i’m not sure if you’ve met neytiri, but she is to become tsahik after her mother. it’s tradition that the two become a mated pair. but last i heard, the whole situation is a bit complicated considering the history between them.”

your brows furrowed and you sat down in the chair beside grace. “can you tell me what happened?”

grace glanced at you.

you softened, frowning just a bit. “it has to do with why you’re not allowed at home tree, doesn’t it?”

“that’s…part of it, yes.” grace said with some reluctance. her brows drew together and she put out her cigarette with a sigh.

“i used to run a school near the village. i taught english to the younglings and the teenagers. i know tsu’tey and neytiri well because i was the one who taught them english.” grace said.

you couldn’t suppress the surprise on your face. why it shocked you so much you didn’t know. it made sense. who else would’ve been the one to teach the clan english? it wasn’t like parker selfridge or miles quaritch were sending out english books. still, to picture a younger tsu’tey learning from grace made your head spin.

“the school was open for many years. so many memories were made. so many laughs were had. so much trust was built— but nothing we touch will last.” grace said as she turned in her chair to face you. the artificial lights highlighted the grimness of her expression and it made your heart sink. “the RDA attacked the school in retaliation for a group of hunters destroying one of their bulldozers.”

“many people died. many children died. the old school house has been abandoned since. i — nor any of the omatikaya — will never step foot back there. not tsu’tey. not ninat or saela. not mo’at. not neytiri. not after sylwanin’s death.”

“sylwanin? who is that?” you asked.

“she was mo’at and eytukan’s eldest daughter. neytiri’s sister. she was to be the next tsahik after her mother. she and tsu’tey were fated to be a pair because of their roles, but they loved each other dearly.”

“it is a bit taboo for navi to engage in any kind of romance before they pass their iknimaya— the claiming of their ikran. ikran shall only ever have one rider. navi will only ever have one mate. it is in passing their iknimaya that they begin to understand the severity and the importance of life-lasting bonds.”

“tsu’tey and sylwanin walked the line very carefully after they passed their iknimaya. especially seeing as tsu’tey walked a different path than most.”

“in line to become olo’eyktan, he had to go through much more training. he had his iknimaya later than most males do. but like all males, tsu’tey was not allowed to pick a mate until after he completed his uniltaron.” grace said.

“what is that? uniltaron?” you asked.

“to some, it is considered the final stage of becoming a man or a woman. it is called the dream hunt and it…well, it just proves there is so much more to this world than we can even begin to believe.” grace said with a small shake of her head. “in order to be a man or a woman of the people, you have to be reborn. from what i know, the man or woman will ingest poison and if they survive, they return from their delirium with a message from eywa that is just for them. wisdom of some sort.”

“did you see tsu’tey go through his uniltaron?” you asked with a curious raise of your brow.

grace’s lips thinned and she shook her head. “no. tsu’tey had yet to complete it before the attack on the school. i know that he did months later after grieving the loss of sylwanin— and he’s been a different man since. colder. harsher. whatever visions he saw during his uniltaron and whatever wisdom eywa bestowed upon him, it hardened him.”

your heart sank. to imagine the pain he had suffered not only surviving his uniltaron but losing the woman he loved just before he could have her— it was unimaginable.

you had crushes on earth that ended badly. partners that made you cry and broke your heart in two.

but that was nothing like the loss tsu’tey suffered.

if navi mated for life and he was firm on his choice of sylwanin— it was no wonder there was difficultly between him and neytiri. not just for the fact that she was sylwanin’s sister but because tsu’tey had already made his choice.

he had chosen her but she was gone.

“what was he like before?” you asked. you shouldn’t have but you did— and you don’t know why you did.

“tsu’tey?” grace — as sad as she was — couldn’t help but smile the smallest bit. “a troublemaker. and a loudmouth. he was a shit-stirrer, that’s for sure.”

“but he was curious. so curious and eager. he was passionate about learning and he strived to understand all that he could. he was creative. he made wonderful paintings that i hung up on the walls of the school house. he was funny. he was selfless. he made sure that no one got left behind in their studies.” grace said. her voice was far too soft. she wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, digging into her pocket for her cigarettes.

“grace…i…i can always raise the idea of you being allowed back at home tree.” you said as gently as you could.

grace laughed. it was a soft, sweet laugh. as she met your eyes, you could see how much your offer had struck her. her appreciation was palpable— but she shook her head.

“that is very sweet of you but the trust the people placed in me was broken. i told them it was safe and that nothing bad could come of a school— and the worst thing imaginable happened.” grace said.

“we cannot change the past. it happened. we must move forward regardless. that is what i have tried to do and that is what the clan has done. tsu’tey is still in line to become olo’eyktan. he has become a lethal warrior and a fearless leader. i hear a lot of chatter about him from the soldiers. he and his group give the RDA soldiers a lot of trouble.” grace said with a slight smile as she lit up a cigarette.

“be careful what you do out there with him.” grace ashed her cigarette and glanced at you. “if the RDA catch you on any of the stunts he pulls with the bulldozers, they’ll lock you in a holding cell and decide a fate worse for you than death. you’ll either be sent to the mines or be brought back to earth.”

you throat went dry.

on the day you arrived, you remembered seeing the bulldozers with the arrows stuck into the tires. the broken windshields. the destroyed cameras.

that had been him.

“the RDA don’t like him…” it wasn’t a question.

“hell, no they don’t.” grace said with a gruff laugh. she took a drag of her cigarette and shook her head. “he’s got a big ol’ price on his head. the RDA can’t actively hunt for him because that would start a war, but the soldiers know to pop one through his skull if they ever see him in action on one of his ambushes.”

the RDA wanted tsu’tey dead.

you felt the color drain from your face. your stomach churched and you could ringing in your ears.

the RDA wanted tsu’tey dead— and you had just been appointed their number one asset on figuring out the best possible way to dispose of him without making too much of a mess.

that is why quaritch sought you out.

he heard your fateful survival story through the grapevine and stuck his nose into your file. he found your logs. he knew the name you said in all nine of your logs. he knew who you spent the last nine days with.

you were the pupil of the navi he wanted dead.

“but tsu’tey is smart. too smart. he keeps his distance from anything that involves the RDA when he’s not actively trying to blowup the dozers and snipe soldiers from the trees. at least, he’s tried hard to.” grace glanced at you and said, “you really must be something special to fall on his radar and have him tuck you under his wing.”

seems you had that charm with too many dangerous people on pandora— and it scared you.

sitting across from grace, you wanted to tell her everything. you wanted to tell her about the atokirina. you wanted to tell her that tsu’tey would be training you to be a warrior. you wanted to tell her about quaritch and the deal you had no other choice but to make with him.

but you couldn’t.

if you did, you risked everything that was already on the line. your life. tsu’tey’s life. perhaps the life of every avatar driver in the RDA.

you had to be smart.

you needed a plan in order to keep everyone safe.

“is it alright if i link?” you asked. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. if you did, you feared you would’ve burst into tears.

grace took a long, long, long drag of her cigarette. she breathed out the smoke through her nose. “it’s not even five in the morning yet.”

“i know…but i want to be there. it’s my day off. a rest day, as tsu’tey said. i won’t be anywhere dangerous today. that much i swear to you. if i get tired, i’ll come back. i promise.” you said, lifting your gaze up just enough to catch the smallest glimpse of her eyes.

you were surprised to see such a soft expression.

“go on,” grace said with a wave of her hand. “i’ll fire up all the machines.”

your heart lightened and you couldn’t help but smile. “thank you, grace…”

the soft blue cushion in your link-pod was never under you for long. the black of your eyelids tunneled into white and you felt yourself make the shift. the warm open air was comfortable. even though you couldn’t feel the cold of the lab any longer, you could recall the way it made your real fingers feel numb.

you opened your eyes and took a much needed deep breath. finally, you felt like you could breathe. you focused on the rise and fall of your chest for a long time. under your palm and laid upon your chest was the small carving of mitsia. you lifted your hand up and admired the woodwork.

whether he knew it or not, this little gift meant a lot to you.

you crawled out of your hammock as quietly as you could. most inhabitants of home tree were still sleeping. the sun had not yet risen. there was no reason to be up this early— not back at the RDA and not here in home tree now.

but you couldn’t sleep even if you wanted to.

if you were going to venture anywhere outside of home tree by yourself, you’d need your gear. you didn’t have much of it. all you had was a small knife, some twine, a small pouch for food, and a waterskin.

and all of that was in his hut.

if there was one thing you’d picked up on your own over the last — now — ten days, it was how to be silent.

you crept your way inside tsu’tey’s hut. guiding the flap closed, you stayed still. absolutely silent. it was dark except for the freckles on you that glowed.

and the freckles on him.

in his bed of furs, tsu’tey slept on his back. with one hand behind his head, his breath came out even and deep. he scowled even in his sleep. the pout of his lips and deep line between his brow was not hard to miss even in the dark.

did he dream?

if he did, was he not having a good one?

you frowned.

while you worried for him, you weren’t going to stick around and wait for him to see you in his hanging hut. you’d seen the inside of his home twice before. once the first time you arrived. the second time when he needed to find you a new loincloth because you had been a klutz at dinner and bumped into someone who spilled purple juice all over you.

you knew where he kept all the gear.

plucking your stuff from the mounts on the wall, you were in and out with a silence he would’ve been impressed with had he been awake.

you kept your silent streak as you climbed down the center column of home tree and left. a few navi awake at this hour saw you and you exchanged polite glances, but no one stopped you from leaving. you weren’t forbidden from going off by yourself.

well, you’d never been told you couldn’t and you never asked if you could.

perhaps there was a lesson to be learnt today…

you strapped your stuff around your waist and kept your promise to grace. you didn’t go far from home tree. even if you hadn’t made that promise, you weren’t dumb enough to get yourself lost.

at this hour, the riverbank was illuminated by the forest surrounding it. algae in the water glowed all different shades of blue, green, and yellow. fish swam by displaying the same colored dots. bugs buzzed by, twinkling soft white lights.

peace.

your heart knew peace here.

with your feet in the water and your eyes as wide opened as they could be, you took in the majesty that was pandora at night. in the sky above, you were reminded that pandora was a moon. a moon that orbited a much larger planet alongside a smaller moon. you knew little of the planet you orbited. only that it was massive and made of gas.

as you continued looking up, you admired the stars. there were so many. while the constellations you had known about as a child were always hidden by smog and light pollution, you couldn’t see them even here. no gemini twins. no virgo. no orion’s belt. only new stars to fall in love with. new constellations that you imaged had tongue-twister names in navi.

“can you see your home from here?”

you nearly jumped out of your skin hearing his voice. you placed your hand on your chest and laughed as he sat down beside you. “fuck sake…yknow breaking a stick back there would’ve been a nice indicator that you were coming.”

“sorry,” tsu’tey smirked. “didn’t mean to scare you, skxawng.”

you rolled your eyes at him. looking back up at the sky, you shook your head. “i don’t think earth is visible. even if it was, i wouldn’t know where it is.”

tsu’tey leaned towards you and pointed upward. tilting your head back further, you tried to see what exactly he was pointing at. heat rushed to your face as he guided your chin with his other hand. you saw it. the tiny, tiny, tiny twinkling dot on the endless night sky.

“that’s earth?” you asked softly, your eyes widening.

“no. that is your sun.” tsu’tey said. he stared up at it too and shook his head. “your home is somewhere around it. too small to see.”

“huh…” you whispered.

“what are you doing here at this hour?” tsu’tey asked.

“i couldn’t sleep.” you said. it was the truth. “grace made an exception for me to link. i wanted to be out here instead of in there.”

“why are you here?” you asked, glancing at him.

“i could smell you.” tsu’tey said with a small grimace. “you were in my hut. sneaky little thing you are. stinky, too.”

you laughed and nudged him in the ribs. “asshole.”

his eyes widened and he touched his side. for a moment, you almost wondered if you’d hurt him. worse, if you offended him.

he nudged you back.

gently.

when you were alone with him— really, truly alone with him — he was not as unapproachable as he usually was. how he acted now was how he acted when you raced through the forest together. it was how he acted when he carried you on his back to safety.

it was moments like these that made you feel seen.

more than as an avatar. more than as a student. more than an alien. more than a project or a burden. more than a replacement.

you felt like a person when he looked at you.

“how did you know that was my sun?” you asked, tilting your head back once more to see it. you had to find it first— and you did so with his help.

“grace.” tsu’tey said, short and simple. not sweet. not sour. not anything besides simple.

you met his eyes. for a moment, you were absolutely captivated by the glowing freckles on his face. it was one of your most favorite things about the navi. you wanted to count each one and see how many there were. his freckles were like constellations of their own.

“i think grace misses you.” you whispered. you shouldn’t have brought up grace at all. it treaded on things he may not want you to know— but you owed it to grace to wiggle her name back into conversation.

she cared about the omaticaya.

and once, they cared about her, too.

tsu’tey scoffed under his breath and looked away. “grace can miss me all she wants. it changes nothing…”

“maybe not,” you agreed. you shrugged and shook your head. “but that doesn’t mean it can’t change anything.”

tsu’tey looked at you. slowly, he shook his head. he didn’t understand.

“the past won’t change. that much you’re right about. but just because you can’t change the past doesn’t mean you can’t make change to better the future.” you said softly.

“we have this saying on earth. time heals all wounds. sometimes, certain kinds of wounds take longer to heal. especially ones in here.” you placed your hand on your chest and looked up at the stars. “it does no one any good to dwell in the pain that has run its course long enough.”

“i cannot let go of the pain.” tsu’tey said as he pulled his knees up to his chest. he rested his chin on them and stared at the rippling water of the twilight river. “it is the only thing that reminds me that the happiness i felt had been real.”

as he met your eyes, your heart sank.

he knew that you knew.

you knew about him. about the school. about what had happened there. about sylwanin. whether he knew you had found out tonight was not important. in his mind, you had known. of course, you had known. you and your group of aliens studied and studied and studied away at him and his people.

he figured you knew everything about him.

and yet you had rejected the one question he’d asked about you.

“i was sent here because my sister died,” you said. it was harder to say than you wanted it to be because it was the first time you said it out loud.

everyone around you always said it for you.

oh, you’re here because she died.

oh, sorry your sister died.

“her name was evelyn. she was a scientist like grace. this body was meant to be hers.” you looked down at your hands. you showed them to him and cracked a small smile. “i’m a twin so i was able to take the job. i don’t offer much to the program grace runs. i’m really just an attempt at trying not to lose the RDA any more money.”

“a twin…” tsu’tey shook his head. “that is like…you resemble each other? born together, yes?”

“yeah,” you said with a small nod. “she always said i looked like her because she was older by a couple minutes. guess im the older one now, huh?”

tsu’tey smiled faintly. “sylwanin was older than me…but not anymore though.”

you shared in his downturned smile. carefully, you leaned over and rested your head on his arm. he tensed— but he did not push you off. he looked down at you. his invisible brow furrowed and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“i am sorry about your sister, eris.”

heat bled through you like a furnace as he said you name. the air froze in your lungs. your heart nearly began galloping. it was beating against the inside of your ribs like a drum. you could ear it in your ears.

“i’m sorry about your mate.” you whispered as you tilted you head back to look up at him.

tsu’tey looked down at you and shook his head. “she was not my mate.”

“yes, she was.” you said. you smiled and gave him a soft nudge. “you chose her. just because you had no time to treat her as such doesn’t make it any less true. you loved her. im sure you still do. you would have married her. that means something.”

tsu’tey’s face pinched with soft agony. soft, sweet agony. he looked away and blinked hard. he cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers.

you’d struck something deep within him.

something that no one had been able to reach.

“why is it that you see such a thing and others do not?” tsu’tey asked through a tightness in his throat. he kept rubbing at his eyes. “if a demon can understand it then why can’t the tsahik?”

your chest caved in as you realized what he was referring to.

he was expected to become a pair with neytiri.

“i think it’s a matter of duty and no so much…feeling.” you said as gently as you could.

tsu’tey grunted and nudged you off him. “i know that, skxawng. all anything ever is for me is duty.”

“i— i’m sorry.” you whispered.

he looked down at you. the anger in his expression subsided and he shook his head. his ears pinned back and he hooked an arm around you. he held you against him and gave your arm a soft squeeze.

“no, i’m sorry. you are being so kind and i…i’m just…i’m angry. not at you, taronyutsyìp. at everything else. it all feels so…i don’t have the word for it.” tsu’tey said softly.

“overwhelming?” you offered.

“overwhelming…i do not know what the means but it sounds like it fits. yes. yes, i am overwhelming.” tsu’tey said with a small shake of his head.

you laughed. you couldn’t help it.

“what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“don’t say it like that. when you say ‘i’m overwhelming’ it basically means that you think you are being too much.” you said with a small giggle, “instead, you want to say, ‘this fuck-ass shit is overwhelming.”

tsu’tey’s brows drew together and he shook his head. “this fuck-what? fukess sheet?”

“fuck-ass.” you said again. “fuck-ass. fuck-ass shit. it means like…it means this shit is like skxawng. this skxawng shit. fuck-ass shit.”

“this…this fuck-ass shit.” tsu’tey said, glancing at you. he raised an invisible brow.

“yeah!” you giggled. “this is some fuck-ass overwhelming shit!”

“this is shit overwhelming! fuck-ass!” tsu’tey exclaimed.

you raised your fist in the air. “hell yeah!”

“hell yeah!” tsu’tey said as he mimicked you.

your eyes met and the both of you laughed. it was the first time in a long time that you laughed hard enough to feel it in the core of your belly. it brought tears to your eyes to laugh so much. it was the first time, too, that you ever heard him laugh. really laugh. it was such a rich, sweet sound. he could hardly seem to catch his breath.

you had to crawl away from him. you felt like you would pass out if you laughed anymore. as you leaned away and tried to drag yourself to a place far enough that you could calm down, tsu’tey grabbed you by the waist.

“where are you going, demon?” he purred against your ear as he tugged you back toward him. “too overwhelming for you?”

“my stomach hurts— agh!” you giggled, trying to pushing him away as he turned you to face him. “please— i’m going to die.”

tsu’tey grinned down at you. “you can’t die on me, skxawng. it’s my job to protect you, remember?”

you looked up at him with the stars in yours eyes as you nudged and pushed at him. he did the same back.

this kind of touch was familiar to the both of you.

you’d grown accustom to his touch— and he’d grown accustomed to touching you. you spent most of the time you bickered swatting at each other. you’d hit him with your tail. he pinch your arm. you’d bump him with you shoulder. he’d tug your tail.

his tail be betrayed him now. you could hear it swooshing through the grass. you felt it. every now and again it would bump against your thigh. your own tail was just as erratic. thumping against the ground like a racing heart. his ears perked as yours did. you were watching each other closely. too closely. every little move you made, he made.

you wanted to run.

it came up instinctively.

for the first time, you felt a sixth sense rise within your belly. an instinctual overwhelming urge to run because you knew he would chase you. it was an unspoken promise between the two of you with your tails flicking.

and so you ran.

scrambling to your feet, you ran along the edge of the water. with the sun beginning to rise, the pandoran sky began to bleed pink. across the surface of the water, the light began to reflect. reflecting, too, were the running images of the both of you.

you spun around as he tried to grab you by the tail. jumping back, your eyes were wide. your ears stood at attention. tsu’tey was low. crouched to be level with you, his pupils were blown as wide as a full moon. you could see yourself in his eyes.

you could see him.

the shit-stirring, funny, jackass.

tsu’tey lunged at you and you scrambled back. he watched your every move. for a split second, you could imagine that this was a test. how fast were you? how agile? how strong? how would you fare in the training he would put you through?

“you are not very good at this game, taronyutsyìp.” tsu’tey said with a small shake of his head.

“what does that mean?” you asked. you were slightly breathless. “that’s— that’s now the second time you’ve called me that.”

“hunter,” tsu’tey smiled. “little hunter.”

you had no time to smile.

you narrowly escaped his grasp as he lunged for you again. he laughed. “you really are not good at this game, skxawng!”

“what game are we even playing!” you exclaimed in a fit of laughter as you dodged and dodged and dodged.

“if i touch you, you must then catch me.” tsu’tey said. he smacked you on the ass. “but you’re not good at avoiding me.”

blood rushed to your face as your eyes widened. you gawked at him and he only laughed.

“tag?” you shook your head at him and couldn’t fight the urge to smile. “we’re playing fucking tag? im lightyears away from earth and i’m playing tag with a navi?”

“what?” tsu’tey asked with an all too charming smile. “you don’t want to play with me, demon?”

you sprinted for him.

his laughter echoed across the riverbed like thunder. he was so damn fast. your lungs burned as you chased him all the way into the forest. your eyes widened as he ran his way up massive tree roots that resembled arches. you followed behind him. you moved as fast as you could but he only went higher and higher.

was now a good time to mention to him that you weren’t too sure how you felt about heights?

no.

there was no way you were letting an alien beat you in tag. you were determined to catch him.

you leapt from massive branch to massive branch in pursuit of him. he stayed just out of reach. when you got close, he would pick up his pace. teasing you. he was teasing you— and he was testing you.

“woah!” you gasped, losing your footing.

tsu’tey spun around and grabbed you by the waist. he tugged you towards the center of the branch, his eyes wide. “are you okay?”

“yeah, i— i…i got you!” you poked him in the center of his chest.

the shock on his expression was delicious.

“what! that is— this is cheating!” tsu’tey laughed in utter disbelief. his eyes were wide and his ears were all the way up.

“it’s not cheating. a smart opponent uses all their skills. my wit and my tactics are just as valuable as your speed and strength.”

“but, hey, it’s okay.” you said. you reached up and flicked his forehead. “it just means you are slow in here.”

“oh, you are…you are so…” he wanted to reach out and grab you. his fingers curled in front of your face as if he were squeezing you with his mind— but you could see the delight in his eyes. “you are an evil woman.”

you tipped your head and gave a small bow. “anything i am, i am because i learned from you, my dearest teacher.”

“mm,” he purred. the sound shocked you and you looked up just in time to see his pupils dilate. “you are mine. anyone who sees you can tell that much on first glance. you have begun to curl your lip as i do. have you noticed?”

you touched your mouth. your eyes widened. you did. how long had you been doing that for? you tried to rub the habit out of the muscle as you tried your best to ignore the way his words made you feel.

you are mine.

it touched upon that instinctual place in your belly. the unfamiliar part of you that couldn’t be denied. something that you’d only ever felt in your avatar. even though your mind was human, this body was not.

and your slow human mind couldn’t comprehend why you wanted him to bite you.

what your dumb, stupid, idiot human mind wanted to do was ask him, ‘am i?’ but you had more class.

you’d ignore the tension between you both because tonight you had found out that he’d once been the navi-version of engaged and lost his lover— and there was a gray line of him possibly being engaged to said lovers sister.

you weren’t going to try and unpack that box.

you were already on pandora.

besides, according to grace, navi could only begin courting when they passed their iknimaya. you had yet to do that. he was off the table and so were you.

yet why was he looking at you like that?

to sway the tension you felt in your belly, you walked with him across the towering tree roots. he followed you without missing a beat. the bioluminescent moss glowed as you stepped on it. as you walked, you wondered if he ever felt awkward. right now you felt awkward. did he ever feel awkward around you?

did he ever think similar thoughts to you?

you didn’t think so— but there was a part of you that couldn’t help but imagine it. he touched you so often. for humans, he touched you in places that were considered more personal. your hips. your thighs. your ass.

you still couldn’t believe he slapped you on the ass.

surely, it didn’t matter?

it wasn’t provocative for him the way it was for you.

unless it was…

“i’m curious,” you said without lifting your gaze up from the path you walked. you were afraid you’d fall off the tree root if you didn’t pay attention. “on earth, humans — more often than not — date around before they settle with ‘the one’. for your people, it’s different, isn’t it? grace said that involving yourself romantically with anyone is not usually accepted, right? because you mate for life?”

“it is a complicated matter. the expectation for those who have not passed their uniltaron is often disregarded.” tsu’tey said. he spoke with ease. a conversation between two friends. “there are some who follow the expectation. they do not engage in any kind of relations. others, like myself, will make some advances on a potential mate. flirting. kissing. others go as far as to lie with each other.”

your brows raised and you asked, “really? is sex not how you mate for life then?”

“no,” tsu’tey said with a shake of his head. he met your eyes as you looked over your shoulder at him. “to become mates, navi must form tsaheylu with each other. like ikran only taking one rider, navi can only ever take one mate.”

“so are you not a virgin then?” you asked as you turned.

he stopped and tilted his head at you. “virgin?”

“virgin. you know, like, you’ve never had sex with anyone.” you said.

tsu’tey pursed his lips and his tail swayed behind him. “you are an invasive little creature, demon.”

you asked something too personal and you could see it all over his face. there was irony in it though. of course, the guy who touched your ass would be a clam when asked anything remotely sexual.

“sorry.” you said, turning around.

“i’m not.”

you looked back. tsu’tey’s ears pinned and perked as you looked up at him. your brows drew together and you shook your head. he wasn’t what? he wasn’t sorry? he wasn’t a virgin?

“i wouldn’t be what you call a virgin.” he said.

your stomach hurt hearing him say that.

“did you and sylwanin…” you couldn’t ask outright. you threaded a thin, thin line.

tsu’tey shook his head. “no, not with her. much to my regret. i was too much of a rule follower then. so was she.”

“and you’re not a rule follower anymore.” it wasn’t a question.

“not in this regard.”

your heart skipped a beat as he stepped closer. you felt it again. something deep in your belly that seemed to weep as he neared. you wanted him to bite you. you wanted his hands all over you. he was so hot that it made you hot.

“are you a virgin?” tsu’tey asked. his voice was low. a purr that tickled your ears.

“yes and no.” you said. when he tilted his head, you kept your mouth moving. “in this body, yeah. of course. but me actually? no. i’ve had sex before.”

“and on earth sex is…similar?” tsu’tey asked, his eyes flicking across the whole of you.

your face burned. you shrugged your shoulders and couldn’t seem to find your voice. “i— i don’t know. how do navi…yknow…”

“i would turn you over and mount you.”

your mouth popped open and your eyes blew wide. your tail was smacking you in the legs and your ears hurt from standing up so straight.

weeping.

your core was weeping.

“and what then? you must have some kind of cock. navi women have similar parts between their legs to what i have in my body.” you said.

“something like that.” tsu’tey said with a nod.

“well endowed?” you asked before you could stop yourself. thankfully, a question like that would go over his head.

but it didn’t.

“i’m very tall.” he said.

tall.

did he mean that he towered over most other males so, of course, it was big? or did he mean that it actually was tall? maybe both.

you looked down at his loincloth.

it was easier than it should’ve been to imagine an erect blue pillar between his legs.

“what is your real body like?”

the question snapped you out of whatever daze had overcome you. you let out a soft breath and shook your head, “i’m not blue, for starters. i’m much smaller. my head would probably reach your hip if i’m lucky.”

tsu’tey seemed to imagine it. he looked down at his hip. trailing the length of you in front of him, his brow raised. to you, you were tall in this body. to him, you were small. he was a head and a half taller than you. in your real body, you would’ve been so, so small in front of him.

“human women have different chests,” tsu’tey said before you could ask him something more. “even now you have…” — he gestured to his chest. — “bigger. why?”

you looked down at your breasts. “i don’t know really. on earth, women have larger breasts for reproductive purposes. mothers produce milk for their babies. that makes them bigger.”

“if you think these are big, you should see me real body.” you said with an awkward laugh.

tsu’tey smirked. “big?”

“squishy.” you said.

“squishy…” he repeated the word. you knew he didn’t quite understand.

“soft.” you said. you smiled faintly. “human women are soft and squishy. navi women are tall and thin and agile.”

“do you look like this?” tsu’tey asked, flicking his head toward you. “if i saw you as you were, would i be able to recognize you?”

“it looks close enough like me.” you nodded. “this avatar looks more like my sister. even though we look the same, i still have trouble seeing me and not her.”

“but maybe,” you said. “if you ever saw me as i am you’d know because i’d probably be staring at you with my mouth wide open.”

“why open?” he asked.

“because…i can only imagine how tall you really are from all the way down there.” you said softly.

tsu’tey looked down, too. the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “and if you kneeled now it would not be the same?”

your face ran hot and your heart thumped in your chest. “huh?”

“if you kneel down, is that not the same?” tsu’tey asked.

“no,” you breathed. shaking your head, you swatted your tail as it smacked your hips. “it wouldn’t be the same.”

“do you realize how you’re being?” you asked without thinking. well, you were thinking. you were thinking about how badly you wanted to touch his arms. how would his skin feel on your lips…

“hm?” tsu’tey titled his head at you.

the smirk he wore was all too devilish.

he was flirting with you.

you shook your head at him. “and you say i’m the demon?”

“you are.” tsu’tey said as he walked passed you. he glanced over his shoulder. “but you’re pretty for one.”

you watched as he descended the root. you hurried to keep up. hopping down after him, you followed him through the waking forest. the sun was beginning to shine. warm rays illuminated the forest in gold. the bioluminescent colors faded away.

“where are you going?” you asked. you were leaving home tree further and further behind. your promise to grace felt like a collar around your neck— but he was the one who held your leash out here.

“today is a rest day for you, demon. i will show you the best place to seek comfort for bruises.” tsu’tey said.

you wouldn’t argue with that.

while you weren’t in bad shape, you had sore spots still. mitsia had learned not to buck and throw you off, but the many times that she did sure left their mark. you walked and walked to a ridge of stone. it towered a hundred feet upward.

“this way.” tsu’tey called, trying to keep your ever-fluttering attention. new places always had you gawking. “come on, skxawng. the rocks aren’t going anywhere any time soon.”

you laughed under your breath.

shit-stirring jackass…

you followed him down into a tunnel in the rock. the darkness swallowed you both whole— until the familiar blue, white, and purple bioluminescent colors greeted you the further into the tunnel you walked. you reached out to touch the hanging flowers as you passed. they swayed as your fingers brushed against them. further ahead, you could hear the sound of bubbling, swirling and whooshing.

“wow…” you whispered.

the tunnel opened into a cavern. glowing purple crystals and vibrant blue moss filled the hollow space with light. in the center, a bubbling pool. colored algae looked like glitter in the steaming water.

“you call this a hot spring, yes?” tsu’tey asked as he made his way towards the edge of the water.

“yeah,” you said. you followed too. you dipped your foot in and smiled at the warm, bubbly sensation. “oh, this is going to be awesome.”

tsu’tey grinned. “enjoy it demon. if you do not remember your way back, head straight back down the trail. home tree’s leafs will come into view soon enough. just look up.”

you turned and shook you head. “where are you going?”

“i have things i must do today.” tsu’tey said.

“what things?” you asked.

he hesitated for a moment, looking at you too carefully. “hunting.”

a lie.

he just lied to you.

“hunting…” you said the word slowly, as if you were assessing it between your fingers. you took a step into the water and looked up at him. “for what?”

“how do you think the clan eats, demon? for food.” tsu’tey said. his voice was gruff. his annoyed scowl made a return.

another lie.

he wasn’t going to be hunting animals.

he was going to be raising the price on his head.

“can you go later?” you asked. you frowned at him and traced the surface of the bubbling water with your finger tips. “you deserve time to rest, too. putting up with me is no easy task.”

tsu’tey said nothing but he did not leave.

you knew your suspicion was right. he had a plan today. he knew where RDA would be and he knew his window of opportunity was small.

“aren’t there other hunters?” you asked.

he sighed, “yes but—”

“perfect.” you said, reaching for his hand. you gave it a small tug. “then come. sit. relax.”

tsu’tey pulled his hand from yours and wore a sour face. he glanced at the exit. after a beat of silence, he seemed to give in.

your heart lightened and the fear of him getting tangled in anything RDA related dissipated.

tsu’tey undid his loincloth and tossed it aside. your eyes widened and you turned your head away. you were staring at the moss but all you could see was a massive blue cock in your mind. your face burned hotter than the water as he stepped passed you into the hot spring. it wasn’t until you heard him sit that you dared to look at him.

“don’t get your clothes wet, demon. we have no spare because i have not gotten the chance to clean.” tsu’tey said with a flick of his head.

“you— you expect me to sit in here with you naked?” you asked with your voice all caught up in your throat.

“do humans wear clothes in water?” tsu’tey asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“for something like this, yeah. a bathing suit. we don’t swim with each other naked. well, some people like to skinny dip but that’s beside the point.” you said, swatting away those thoughts.

“just take your clothes off and sit down, eris.”

your breath froze in your lungs but your blood rushed like fire through your veins. hot. you were so hot all over as he said your name. fuck. if he said your name, you’d do anything he asked.

you undid the tie of your loincloth and let it fall free. you tossed it near his along with your gear. carefully, you took off the beaded chest piece around your breasts and placed that down, too. you looked anywhere else as you sank down into the water. it was like a hot hug. your muscles sighed as you found yourself a comfortable seat on the natural ledge.

“stop staring.” you said under your breath.

you could feel his gaze. it was hotter than the water. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. you didn’t want to know what kind of face he made. you didn’t want him to see how hard it was for you not to bite your lip.

“if i’m giving up a day of hunting to sit here with you, then i will look as i please.” tsu’tey said.

you met his eyes. to your surprise, he was looking at your face and not your breasts. only a few feet apart, you could see every glowing freckle on his face. you swallowed around the lump in your throat. your skin nearly melted off the bone as his eyes cut across you. they landed on your breasts.

“squishy?” he asked with no shame.

“yeah,” you whispered.

tsu’tey grinned to himself as he leaned back. he let his head rest against the ledge and his eyes fell closed. apart from the bubbling water, it grew entirely silent. he took full advantage of the time he had to relax and soak in the water.

you debated drowning yourself.

“you are so loud.” tsu’tey sighed.

“what?” you asked. your voice was hardly audible. “loud? i didn’t even say anything.”

“your heart.” tsu’tey said, flicking his head toward your chest. “your heart is loud. it is pounding.”

“well, it’s not like i can control that.” you muttered.

“great mother, grant me patience…”

before you could say anything, tsu’tey stood. water rippled down his toned blue body. the base of his cock was peeking at you from the bubbles. you could only stare at him in all his glory as he stood in front of you. the look in his eyes was far too difficult for you to read.

“turn.” he said.

“what?” you shook your head.

“if you want to be mounted so badly then turn.” tsu’tey said reaching down to lift you up by your arms.

your eyes shot open and your jaw dropped. “what? woah— woah, hold on.” you pushed your hand against his chest and stopped him. “what are you doing?”

“me? what are you doing, demon? you ask me questions about mating. you tell me to stay here with you instead of go on my hunt. i can smell your pheromones. you are not being discreet. is this not what you want?” tsu’tey asked.

you head was spinning.

you could hardly breathe.

“i— i didn’t mean to cause offense with those questions.” you said first and more most. “pheromones? i don’t—”

he cut you off. “do i look offended?”

being so close to him, you couldn’t tell what he looked like apart from sweaty and tense. his hands were curled tight at his side. his brow was glossed with sweat from the steam in the air.

offended?

no.

frustrated?

yes.

“aren’t you engaged?” you asked with more bitterness than you should’ve.

now he was offended.

he splashed you with water and bared his teeth in a frustrated growl. you gasped, wiping off your face.

“ugh! asshole!” you exclaimed with your ears pinned back.

you splashed him back. and then again. and again until he grabbed you by your arms and shook you. you grunted as your teeth clacked together. you reached a hand up to swipe at him with your nails but he caught you by the wrist.

staring up at him, you had hate in your eyes.

he had it, too.

it burned between you.

and it melted away at the both of you.

tsu’tey pushed you back against the edge of the hot spring. you made no attempt to stop him. your eyes stayed glued on his face. he stared at you, too, in a way that should’ve been far too invasive. you liked it. you like the edge to his expression. you like the power behind every moment. the dominance.

it was intoxicating.

or maybe it was the steam making your head swirl…

“no,” you said softly as he tried to turn you around. he tried again to turn you by your waist by you hooked your arms around his shoulders. “no.” you said again. firmly this time.

“navi don’t mate face to face unless they are bonded. you either turn or we stop.” tsu’tey said under his breath. it came out like a grumble.

“then we stop.” you said, dropping your arms from around his shoulders.

tsu’tey’s scowl was an old friend but you were not happy to see it. it meant that you were done. to both your dismay, it seemed. he stepped away from you and you couldn’t help but look down. he was erect. that much was nice to know.

he felt it, too. an attraction towards you like the one you felt for him.

maybe you weren’t losing it out here in the forest.

“the RDA doesn’t get along with you, do they?” you asked. you had the confidence to. rejecting his advances and watching him sit back down instead of leave gave you something to step up onto. not quite his level, but not as low.

tsu’tey scoffed and rested his head back against the ledge as he sat. “why ask questions you already know the answer to, demon?”

“because i want to know what it’ll take to make peace.” you said. the words were hard coming up your throat. you could hear the colonels voice in your head.

but you weren’t doing it just for him.

“truthfully, i want to know what it will take for grace to be allowed back at home tree.” you whispered.

“that decisions lies with the olo’eyktan and the tsahik.” tsu’tey said without opening his eyes.

“yes, but they listen to you. they listen to you and they keep their eyes on me. surely, there must be something that i could do.” you said.

it was silent for a long moment. tsu’tey stayed still. his chest rose and fell evenly. his eyes stayed shut. his expressed stayed blanket.

“there is, isn’t there?” you asked, moving towards him. the water sloshed against you as you sat beside him. “tell me what it is i have to do.”

“the olo’eyktan doubts you can form tsaheylu.” tsu’tey said lowly. he cracked a large yellow eye open to glance at you. he did not attempt to move even when you were near.

“what? how? i bonded with mitsia.” you said with a shake of your head.

tsu’tey laughed. he turned his head and looked up at you. fuck, did he look kissable right now. you could’ve just leaned down and done it. maybe he would’ve kissed you back.

“forming tsaheylu with pali is temporary. mitsia has grown fond of you because you have ridden her every day that we have trained with them. she is not yours. not really. not in the way an ikran would be.” he said.

“so…so if i form tsaheylu with an ikran, will grace be allowed to come back to the village?” you asked.

again, he laughed. “demon, if you can form tsaheylu with an ikran, you can pass iknimaya. if you pass iknimaya, you can pass uniltaron. if you pass uniltaron, you will become one of the people.”

“and that means…” your ignorance was pathetic.

you watched him fight the urge to smack you upside the head. his hand flex on the rock beside you. he had to grit his teeth. with a deep breath, he seemed to find his temper.

“that means, skxawng, that you may make your bow from the wood of home tree. you shall be welcomed by our ancestors. you shall take a mate. you shall mother many children. you shall be buried with our clan when you die.” tsu’tey said softly.

a flood of emotions ran through you in a matter of seconds. tears pricked at your eyes and you had not a clue why. looking away, you wiped at your lashes furiously.

“you cry?” tsu’tey sat forward and tried to look at you.

“shut up. no i’m not.” you sniffled, turning away fully.

“why do you cry?” he asked, placing his hand on the back of your neck. a shiver ran through you as he brushed your kuru.

why were you crying? truthfully, there were too many reasons. wiping you eyes, you turned to face him. it mattered no longer that you were stark naked in front of him. it mattered not that he was just as bare. when you looked at him, you did your best to look into him.

you looked at him.

tsu’tey recoiled the smallest bit.

“pandora has given me job after job. avatar driver. laboratory help. bunk-room maid. but you’re saying that if i past two tests…i get to live here?”

“i can have a life here?” you asked in a voice too soft.

tsu’tey seemed to soften at your words. he could see you just as you saw him. carefully, he swiped his thumb across your cheek. with a small nod, he awoke something vital inside your chest.

“yes,” he murmured. you’d never heard him speak so low. so soft. so sweet. “but they are no easy tests. you may die during each one. at the end, you will be one of the people. reborn as one of us.”

“if you claim an ikran and prove that you are navi and not just something that wears our skin, i will ask for grace’s return to home tree.”

you wanted to kiss him.

you wanted to kiss him until your lips bruised— and you had to fight tooth and nail not to.

“when can i claim an ikran?” you asked.

tsu’tey chuckled as he looked you up and down. “once i think you are ready.”

hope you all enjoyed <3 sorry for slow updates btw. i only get the chance to write before bed and i usually fall asleep, so it takes a couple days. thanks for reading! xxx

next chapter >

[cloveroctobers]

SHEA BUTTER BABY | S. James

Requested by: @theshyprincess “Can I get a spencer James getting married and smut biracial if I’m not bothering you I really like your writing”

A/N: decided to do this in hc form, hope that’s cool? And it’s been my thing lately anyways lol. Hope you like this one! I also hope I channeled Spencer well 🙃

WARNINGS: light smut + some curse words ofc!

We all know Spencer takes the world on his shoulders; when his finds you, you become his world

You meet freshman year in university, specifically on the football field and decided to invite him to a sorority party because what’s the best way to start off your freshman year? A little party never hurt nobody

Except it did, things got rowdy resulting with a huge ass knot on your forehead and losing consciousness for a few minutes

You expected Spencer to dip like any other asshole dude would have but you were shocked that he actually came to your aid and walked you back to your dorm even tho you had a “big ass egg” growing from your forehead

You could laugh about it a little then, but more so now

He actually asked for your number before you departed, even tho you thought you majorly screwed whatever this was up but he wanted to see you again and you were more than happy to oblige

It was instant friendship with a touch of flirtations but you knew that he recently got out of some heartbreak from his senior year of high school and you had no choice but to respect that he wasn’t looking for a relationship right now

Day by day you became the best of friends spending majority of your time together while also getting to know each other’s outside friends and family, you became each other’s family

It was end of sophomore year where Spencer decided he wanted to give it a go but it was your turn to be leery since you watched him go through some girls but he never flaunted that in front of you, yet you always knew

You didn’t want to be his last option

“You could never be that, y/n. You’re so much more than what you think I think of you.”

Words of affirmation is definitely Spencer’s love language and he had no problem saying how he felt about you

He openly admitted that he was confused at first, trying to fight with his inner self on taking your friendship into the love zone. He’s always gone the friendship route first before it turned into romance—well maybe not with Kia but his past two relationships he did

He was not only confused but nervous and you made him work a little bit to get a date from you but you didn’t hold out for too long since you felt Spencer was your person

You took things slow but you still felt like friends except now you held onto each other a little longer and touches seem to burn now but you liked it, really liked it

Senior year is when he proposes, he’s actually the second out of his group of friends back home to get engaged...JJ was the first and actually went through with the marriage after one drunken night in vegas with some girl who was studying physical therapy

Sure it’s only been two years but like your grandmother always says, “when you feel a pull in your heart whenever they’re not around, they’re the one baby.” And your grandparents got married only after knowing each other for four months. Every love is different

You were a sappy mess and Spencer found it humorous while slipping the ring on and embracing you, “we not doing that. Save it until the wedding, huh?”

And he gets a few nice whacks to the chest but he can take it ofc as he’s kissing you so gently

It’s a private moment and you wouldn’t have it any other way

A year and a few months after you graduate, Spencer gets drafted into the NFL and you’re still searching for a job you majored in

You’re both living apart with you going back to your hometown in Arizona and Spencer in Cali. Things aren’t easy but you’ve been planning your wedding and it feels like Spencer is just saying he’s okay with everything which is frustrating. You don’t want to do this alone and you need to find a place to live together, you didn’t want to live with Spencer’s mom and brother as much as you loved them. You were both adults and needed to take the wheel

Yet it always felt like Spencer was busy planning on putting further distance between you since he was secure in his career and you just felt stuck

That caused a riff between you two but Spencer didn’t like that silent treatment bs. You were gonna talk to him one way or another

Once you get through it, which you definitely do!! it’s pure heaven and you couldn’t be happier

You get married at a banquet hall

You both have a lot friends and family that’ve invited

Your best friends + sibs are your best men, bridesmaids, maid of honor

Spencer leaves a chair open for his dad up front with his mom and brother 🥲

Initially you were going to have your guests pick whatever seat they wanted and just have your immediate family have the front areas but you knew that would probably end up hectic with the strong personalities you had within your friend and family group so you kept it traditional. Your family/friends on one side and spence’s family/friends on the other

Memorable wedding, you were gorgeous and he was so handsome. You loved when Spencer got dressed up, it did something to you and you couldn’t wait for your honeymoon

It wouldn’t be anything over the top like The Bakers tried to gift you with, you just wanted something simple but nice with the man you loved

You were going to Palm Springs the next morning!!! Spending the night in the hotel

You were going to hold out even longer until the night you reached your honeymoon destination 😌

Spencer wanted the both of you to write your own vows and you sure didn’t know how you would compete with this guy. Spencer James always had a way with words!!!

He ofc had you a sobbing mess again but you knew it was never about out-showing the other

when you seal your marriage with a kiss, his hands rest securely on your hips with your hand cradling his jaw and you’re all smiles as the hall fills with cheers

“I love you, Mrs. James.” He’s got that smirk of a smile on his lips and love in his eyes

“As do I, Mr. James.” And you can’t wipe the smile from your own lips even if you tried

One thing you both know how to do is party so the reception goes on for awhile, until about 3 am even tho you both have to be on the road by 10 or a little later since check in isn’t until early afternoon

You’re both so giddy you can hardly sleep but you eventually do, you in your dress + Spencer in his dress shirt but he’s lost the tie and loosened his pants

Since Palm Springs is a 2 hr drive you’re reminiscing on how you basically taught Spencer how to drive and look at how far he’s come now with the rental you’re both using for 4 days and 3 nights

“so it’s my fault you don’t know how to instruct?” Which leads to harmless bickering over spencer’s road trip playlist

it’s been agreed that you each had an hour to play your playlists then for the left over minutes you’d listen to the radio once you got to your destination

your airbnb is REAL colorful and modern, not exactly your tastes but nonetheless it was your getaway from home. You were used to the desert while spencer? Not so much

“the hell was that?” Spencer is dodging and weaving especially if they fly

“looks like fire ants.” keep your distance.” “Why do you know what that is?” “I get stuck watching discovery channel with my dad when I can’t sleep and he’s always up. I saw one episode about them and we don’t want to mess with those bastards.”

you don’t do much with the rest of your day there, just enjoying each other’s company in the air bnb

You decide to shower while Spencer is ordering y’all your dinner from grubhub and deciding what you’re going to watch on firestick that you bought with you

you tend to take long showers so you’re just about done rubbing shea butter into your skin when Spencer announces that the food is here through the door

when you step out you’re on a mission with your silk robe, bustier, and garter

although you kept your own values of saving yourself until marriage—while Spencer was way more experienced you didn’t feel as nervous to get intimate with the man of your dreams

but that changed the moment his set his eyes on you

“what’s this?” He smirks, popping a fry into his mouth

You’re playing coy as your skin shines, leaning over to steal one of his fries. “My pajamas.”

He’s amused but definitely turned on, “oh aight, so that’s just the norm for you now?”

“I could change.” You pointed back to the where the bathroom sat

“I ain’t say all that, Mrs. James.” Spencer blinks then lifts his head upwards, “c’mere.”

And you move to sit on his lap with excitement even tho you think you hide it pretty well. You’ve always pictured how this would be and you knew from stories from your cousins and friends that half of them didn’t have the most romantic experience...

You didn’t need the rose petals and candles but you knew Spencer was a romantic at heart, plus you had plenty of time to see what was up his sleeve and knew this wouldn’t be the only time as of tonight. You were hoping!!!

“Are we starting dinner?” You ask, wrapping an arm across his shoulders but his eyes are set only on you

“I’m hungry for somethin’ else right now,” his nose presses against your beating throat, “and it just walked in here, looking good enough for this appetite.”

Now he’s kissing on your neck and when he gets to that sweet spot behind your ear he’s got the confirmation he needs but he needs to hear you say it. And he asks with his eyes which you reply with a dip of your head

Now he’s got his hands underneath your thighs, locking your legs around his waist for you and he’s off to your temporary bedroom

He’s always so gentle with you, even when he’s laying you down on this bed

“I promise the next time we do this, I’ll make the place look special for you.” He says into your neck and your nod as you feel the weight of him against you

You’re gasping for breath before he’s been fully touched you yet, “we still have the tub and a couple of days.”

He breathes out a laugh, “that we do. That we do.” Before your lips are brought back together

You know you are loved with the way Spencer touches you and speaks to you even in your most intimate moment

He builds you up before he gives himself all to you. It’s something you heard about, SEEN and knew it was crucial but you didn’t want to put too much logic in this moment. You don’t think you can even think straignt with the way you’re on fire for Spencer rn

And he’s know that but he needs you to be patient, he knows how to take his time. And he should know what he’s doing...he does

He’s seeing what your body likes, he’s watching his face even when you begin to whine for him

He knows when you’re truly ready even when you’re begging

He gives you your first climax with his mouth and you know you need more because you knew how much you loved his lips but you loved them even more now

“even better than I imagined,” he says with a lick of his lips from below before pressing a kiss on your abdomen and you’re still seeing stars

“you okay up there?” He asks. He’s always seeking reassurance from you. That’s too important to him, you’re too important to him

You have to say it as your vision slowly starts to splat back to normal, “I need you i-in— but there’s heat pooling in your cheeks. You’re a bit shy now as you’re getting in your head wondering how you must have sounded or looked in that moment of your first climax but it didn’t seem as if Spencer was disappointed. He seemed just as happy to please

He knows what you need. He worked with your body up to this moment

So he’s kissing up your body, slow and soft. He looks into your eyes before he glances over to grab his wallet from the night stand to grab protection

you didn’t think this far ahead but part of you wanted to know if there was a difference without, ofc you knew the risks without and you had forever to try so you made no comment about the choice to use protection

You wanted to do the honors, and so you did

You were surely in awe to be this close and personal with something you get to have for a lifetime

“Careful, something might fly in there.”

You can’t help but you roll your eyes and snort as Spencer places a kiss to your cheek before he reaches up to lock your hands together and up over your head, your wedding bands contrasting against the bright orange walls and your shea butter skin

“I’m ready.” You whisper, your eyes shifting from Spencer’s deep brown eyes to where your bodies would connect

Spencer hums as he keeps his eyes on yours before lining up, he has to free one of his hands to guide

and your mouth falls open with a slight arch in your back

He doesn’t move right away, he needs to be sure

when you lock both legs around his hips, tugging him closer than close to you, fully allowing him in your space, you then squeeze your hands tighter together, never wanting to let go

Spencer James was all you ever needed and you were more than thrilled to continue this journey of life with him

[whereisten]

Heal

A Kun fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Doctor Qian Kun is a young and successful doctor who works miracles. And you are no exception when you become his patient.

Pairing: Doctor! Kun x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, fantasy, horror

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: blood, manipulation

(A/N: Thank you guys so much for your support with our Halloween fics! Hope you enjoy the adventures of y/n and Doctor Kun!)

___

You were no stranger to visits to the Neo Hospital in your hometown. When you were a baby, you basically lived at the hospital. You were prone to colds and fevers. You always experienced body aches and fatigue. You were born with a chronic autoimmune disorder that left many doctors baffled. They were only able to provide you with medications to alleviate your pains temporarily. You were confined to stay at home, to be homeschooled by your parents, and make friends online. Your childhood was far from normal.

You were a college junior now and you’ve been strictly online. If it wasn’t for the Internet, you probably would’ve lost your mind by now.

You had contact with the outside world but not physical contact. It’s what you longed for the most.

You resented your family. Your older and younger siblings could go out whenever they pleased. How did they get so lucky? Why were you the only sibling that got the short end of the stick?

Everyone in your family always interacted with you carefully, using hand sanitizer and always washing their hands prior to helping you with something. They treated you like a fine, porcelain doll that had to be preserved. It was irritating on your best days and unbearable on your worst. You felt like an abomination sometimes.

However, throughout the years, you would rebel. You would run away from home when your parents eyes wandered for a moment. The farthest you’d get before getting caught was the park. You were lucky that you didn’t develop any harsh symptoms from those times you ran away. However, you would be punished for taking such risks. You’d get your phone and internet privileges taken away for a month every time.

Last week, you succeeded in your most ambitious escape yet: you made it to Target to buy the new Ariana Grande CD. You thought that the one trip to Target couldn’t hurt you. By no means was it crowded and no one got into your space.

Well, you were wrong to think that you’d be fine.

Now you came down with a fever and you’d been placed on bed rest at your all-too familiar Room 1196 on the eleventh floor of the hospital.

You resented your body. A lot of people could recover from a fever and carry on with their day-to-day lives but you? Not so much.

Your parents made a whole spectacle of getting you to be seen by the best doctors but these doctors couldn’t help you the way you’d hoped.

However, this time, you awoke the next morning after your intake and felt...nothing.

Like you never had a fever in the first place.

You spent the morning checking your social media. Your crush/online classmate Sicheng was on a weekend hiking trip with his friends. He was with a bunch of beautiful, healthy people in North Carolina. You were even more bummed to be in the hospital now.

You wondered what life would be like if you didn’t have your condition. Where could you have gone? Who would you be now?

You’ve always wanted to go to the beach by yourself. To the supermarket. Hell, across the street. You wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. Without anyone coddling you and watching your every move.

You wished for freedom from the body you were born with. To find a new one, somehow.

Because you had no hope for your current body to change.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” A male voice was heard from the door.

“Sure.” You sat upright on the bed.

The person at the door entered and he was the prettiest healthcare provider you’d ever laid your eyes on. He had warm, brown eyes and a radiant smile. His dark blue hair was wavy.

Suddenly, you regretted not brushing your hair that morning.

He donned a lab coat with the hospital’s name on it. His name tag was in a lanyard: Dr. Qian Kun, MD, DOM, PharmD.

He looked very young...And to have all of those titles? Your head was spinning.

He frowned as he saw how confused you looked. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “I am.”

He sat on the chair beside your bed. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Dr. Qian Kun but you can call me Kun.”

You blinked a few times. “Are you really a doctor?”

He laughed, confused. “What?”

“You don’t seem that much older than me…”

He sighed. “I get that a lot. I’m twenty-four. I graduated early from university...Earned my titles...Now here I am.”

“That’s amazing. You are probably the youngest doctor ever.”

Kun shook his head. “Afraid not. Bala Ambati became a doctor at seventeen.”

You shook your head. “Still...You have three doctorates. That means triple the sleep deprivation. Hats off to you.”

Kun chuckled as he looked at your information in his clipboard. “Your vitals have improved a lot since yesterday.”

You looked down at your hands. “Yeah...That’s impossible…”

Kun shook his head, noting how down you looked. “It is possible, y/n.”

You met his gaze. “How?”

He smiled. “Are you familiar with oriental medicine?”

He sure was charming, you thought. You reminded yourself to answer his question. “No, I’m not.”

Kun got up from his seat. “Well, there are many different practices that a doctor of oriental medicine can utilize, like acupuncture, meditation, and herbal therapy...To restore harmony to the human body. I specialize in herbal therapy.”

“I see…”

“I have created an herbal mixture that has worked efficiently to get my patients back up on their feet.”

Incredulous still, you managed to say, “That’s great, Doctor.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“I mean, Kun.”

Kun resumed, “And I‘ve provided you with the herbal mixture and from the looks of it, the results have quickly taken effect.”

You were speechless. “That’s…”

“I know it’s hard to believe, y/n. But sometimes doctors fail to find other alternatives to help their patients. Which is why I’m glad I’m your primary physician now.”

“Wait, what about Doctor Morris?” Doctor Morris had been your primary physician since you were five years old.

“She’s retired. I’ve been taking on a couple of her patients now.”

“I see…”

Kun looked out your room’s window and smiled to himself. “You don’t trust me.”

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust any medical professional. No one has been able to understand my condition yet so…”

Kun replied, “You’ve been let down too many times.”

“Exactly. Doctors just can’t figure me out.”

He turned to you and grinned. “Allow me to prove you wrong, then.”

___

At the recommendation of Doctor Kun, you were assigned to stay in the hospital for the next few weeks to see how the herbal mixture would affect your body if you took it for a longer period of time.

Every passing day, you felt more alive. It was weird to say this but you felt more alive at the hospital than you did before. You were beginning to suspect that Kun’s herbal mixture was actually working.

The herbal mixture was made of feverfew among other medicinal herbs. It had certainly done the trick to reduce your fever overnight. You wondered just what this mixture was made of.

You just finished your online linguistics lecture and closed your laptop. You found Kun waiting at the door. “You free?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He sat down next to you and pulled some of your favorite candy out of his pocket.

He put the candy bar in your hand. His fingers lightly touched your palm. Your face warmed up at his proximity. “Happy Halloween, y/n.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out. How did he know you loved Twix? You took the candy bar into your hand and almost cried.

“Y/n?” He asked, worried.

You wiped a tear away. “Sorry...It’s just that this time of the year is hard because...I want to celebrate it. Go out and trick or treat...I know that time has gone for me but I hate that I missed out, you know…”

“Y/n…”

You sniffled and took a bite of the chocolate bar. “My parents never wanted me to feel like I was missing out so they would bring the holiday home to me. I was never in need of M&Ms, Skittles, Twix, or Sour Patch Kids…They even helped me make the best Halloween costumes. We would watch a bunch of horror movies all month long...But I wanted to be a kid. I wanted to go out with my friends and go door to door…”

Kun’s heart went out to you. He hated seeing you so down and so deprived of a life that everyone should have. “Y/n, you will be able to do all of the things you want to do in life.”

You looked at Kun and he had a determined look on his face. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve worked with people with conditions like yours...They thought they would be attached to the hospital forever one way or another. But with my methods, I was able to help them turn their life around. And now they’re living normally and fully.”

You sighed. “I’m happy to hear that...I just don’t think I’ll be one of them.”

Kun placed his hand over yours. “Trust me, y/n. I won’t let you down.”

You met his eyes, then, and you smiled. “Thanks, Kun. I’ve gotta hand it to you. You’re my favorite doctor.”

He beamed. “Is that so?”

You nodded. “Yeah...None of the other doctors ever gave me so much as a lollipop Even though that seems to be the norm on TV…”

Kun chuckled. “There’s more where that came from, y/n.”

___

It has been a month since you’ve entered the hospital. The medical bills were covered by an anonymous benefactor. Your family didn’t have to worry about the financial strain of your hospital stay.

Your family came to visit you and they were stunned at how radiant you looked. They were surprised at how much more ALIVE you looked when they expected you to be weak and miserable because you were at the hospital. Something about you was different.

“Doctor Kun is a miracle worker, isn’t he?” Your dad asked.

“I heard he’s a sight for sore eyes, too...Don’t you think so, y/n?” Your older sister Sydney teased.

You mom shook her head and helped fluff your pillows. “How are you, sweetheart?”

You smiled. “I’m better, actually. I think Kun’s methods are working.”

“Oh, are you two on a first name basis?” Your sister joked.

You rolled your eyes. “He told me to call him Kun. If you saw him, you’d feel weird calling him Doctor, actually.”

“He’s quite young, y/n. He graduated from a top university in Beijing at age 10. Then, he went to medical school right after. He’s been a practicing doctor for a couple of years now. He’s unbelievable,” you dad said.

Kun entered the room, then. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Doctor Qian Kun. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your mom was in love with him. Your dad was in shock at how young he was. Your sister wanted his number. You broke their stunned silence. “Kun, these are my parents Donna and Andrew. And this is my sister, Sydney.”

Kun greeted them. “I’m glad you are all here so I can tell you the good news.”

Everyone was shocked at the phrase “good news”. What good news could he possibly have to share?

Kun continued, “Y/n, your vitals are working at optimum level and we want to see how well you can fare by discharging you.”

You asked, “What?”

Kun smiled. “You can start having a normal life...In which you can attend in-person classes, go to the supermarket, take up a sport…”

You weren’t sure about the last thing he offered but everything else he suggested made you jump out of your bed. “Serious?”

Kun’s smile grew. “Yes.”

Your parents gave each other looks.

Your dad started. “Doctor, are you sure about this...y/n has lived all of her life in our home. The only outside world she’s ever known is our backyard and this hospital.”

Kun nodded. “I am sure. I’ve worked with several patients with similar cases as y/n’s and I would like to put the effect of the herbal mixture to the test. If there is any risk, she will immediately be brought back to the hospital and I will up the dosage for the herbs.”

After a few more minutes of discussion, your parents reluctantly agreed to take you home. To alleviate their concerns, you promised to consult with Kun once a week so he could monitor your progress.

You would be going home tomorrow and you had been given the green light to live a normal life. Outside. Go to classes. See your friends. Go to the beach. Buy fruits at the grocery store.

You packed up your belongings and Kun visited you one last time before you left. “Hey.”

You smiled brightly at him. “Hi!”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I ever have, honestly. And I have you to thank for that. Look, I’m not sure if this will work out in the end but the fact that I can take the chance and go out there...Thank you.”

Kun ruffled your hair. “I’m here for you, y/n.”

You did admit to yourself that you’d had a little crush on Dr. Kun but who were you kidding? He was so out of your league. You’d had a friend in him and you would always be thankful to him. “I have something for you.”

Kun’s eyes widened. “For me?”

“I wasn’t sure it’d get to my house in time but my mom got the package today. I told her to bring it today when everyone visited so…”

You pulled out a small gift bag with Kun’s present inside.

Kun smiled. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” “You’ve done a lot for me, Kun. I may have my doubts but I don’t doubt your intentions. And they're nothing but good. You’ve been doing so much for me. You’re setting me free...In a way.”

You handed the bag to Kun. He pulled out a little wrapped box from inside. He looked at you as he mocked suspicion.

He removed the wrapping to find a pair of AirPods. He gaped. “Y/n…”

You smiled. “For whenever you need to escape the noise…”

Kun had told you that sometimes he would get overwhelmed with his duties at the hospital and you’d asked him what gave him comfort. He told you it was music. So you figured something as light and portable as AirPods could help Kun calm down whenever he needed it throughout the day.

He smiled brightly at you and surprised you by wrapping his arms around you. “Y/n, thank you...You shouldn’t have…”

You froze. Kun’s toned body was against yours and you could feel the racing of his heart. Your heart probably beat twice as fast. You felt yourself get warmer and warmer. You pulled away from him, his hands on your arms.

He blushed. “Sorry…”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t worry about it…”

Your dad returned to the hospital room. “Y/n, you ready?”

Perfect timing, dad, you thought.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

___

It may have been the second semester of your junior year but you felt as nervous as an incoming college freshman as you entered Neo University’s grounds for the first time. You were meeting some of your friends for the first time ever.

It was one thing to see them on the screen but your heart accelerated thinking of what it would be like to see them in the flesh.

You’ve been doing well so far with the herbs Kun had sent you home with. You were able to go grocery shopping with your mom. She was still considering whether or not you could go to the beach yet. You hoped that your progress would continue so she would say yes.

You felt healthier than ever. You could breathe well through your nose. You felt no body aches. You were ready to cartwheel across the quadrangle.

First, you had to learn how to cartwheel, though.

“Y/n!!!!!” Jungeun called out to you.

Your blonde best friend ran up to you and jumped you from behind. “Ah!”

“Jungeun!” You gasped.

She laughed. “You said I could touch you so I wasn’t about to hold back.”

You hugged each other tightly.

“Y/n, it’s so good to see you!”

You and Jungeun have been friends since middle school so you were already a sobbing mess on your first day.

“Stop crying, y/n or else I’m gonna…” She started crying, too.

“Enough with the tears, already,” Dejun added.

You and Jungeun hugged Dejun to bother him, then.

He laughed. “Y/n, welcome to Neo U.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling.

You three went to your seminar together and you were just so in awe of being in a classroom, you had trouble focusing on the lecture. You were even more distracted when you saw that Sicheng was in the same class.

He recognized you and waved. You were yelling so loudly on the inside.

Before this semester, you had the occasional online class that you shared. You saw Sicheng for the first time a year ago and your crush on him grew from there. He was one of the most popular guys on campus, according to Jungeun. You had a group project with him last semester and he was so...Perfect.

He was intelligent and down-to-earth. His smile was so sweet and his eyes pierced into your soul. He was talking poetry. It felt like you were seeing your favorite celebrity in person.

When class ended, you went to lunch with your friends and Sicheng joined you.

“How are you, y/n?” He asked.

“I’m great. Never been better,” you replied.

He smiled. “I’m glad. If you ever need anything, please let me know. You have my number.”

You nodded. “Of course. Same here. If you ever need anything. I’m here for you, too.”

Sicheng chuckled. “Great.”

When you finished lunch, Jungeun couldn’t stop poking fun at you. Sicheng left early for a club meeting. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask you out, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask who out?”

Dejun added. “Me, of course.”

Jungeun continued. “The ‘you have my number’ couldn’t have been more obvious. He wants you in his dorm yesterday.”

You frowned. “And what would we do? Fix his bed?”

Jungeun and Dejun laughed. Jungeun added, “The opposite, y/n.”

Your face heated up then. “Oh.”

Since you have basically spent most of your life either at home or at the hospital, you never even considered the possibility of a love life. You tried to convince yourself that dating sims would’ve been enough.

“Don’t worry, y/n...You and Sicheng can take it slow...He’s no incubus who is trying to take your soul,” Dejun offered.

“True,” you said.

That was if Sicheng saw you that way in the first place.

___

A few weeks had passed. You’d been seeing Kun regularly to check in and everything had gone as expected. You were fine. You weren’t exhibiting any flare-ups. So long as you kept taking the prescribed herbs, you would be fine.

“How is everything, y/n?” He asked.

“Pretty good, actually. School is still school, even if it’s in person. But I got to go to a skating rink for the first time.”

He laughed. “How was it?”

“I am terrible.” You showed your legs. “It explains these bruises.”

Kun shook his head and chuckled. “I’m glad you’re getting out more, y/n. Try and take it one step at a time.”

“Oh, geez. I wish you said that sooner. I already joined a blood cult and I’m getting married next week.”

Kun rolled his eyes as he finished taking notes from your consultation.

“How is everything with you, doc?”

Kun’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Surely, you’re not always at the hospital.”

Kun sighed. “Well, y/n...it just so happens that I’ve taken residence up on the top floor. The whole floor is my apartment. Don’t really get to spend much time there because I’m almost always on call.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? Kun, that’s abuse. You shouldn’t be working so many hours. It’s against the-“

Kun couldn’t help his smile appearing.

“You sneaky bastard,” you said.

You both laughed, then.

Sometimes you forgot Kun was a successful doctor. Sometimes he felt like your infinitely smarter senior at college.

He was a million worlds away from yours.

Kun answered, “Well, I’m doing fine, y/n. I meet up with friends once in a while and go white-water rafting.”

“That sounds like fun!”

Kun shook his head. “It’s challenging but exciting. I get a rush every time I go.”

You thought out loud. “I’d love to try it sometime…”

Kun pat you in the back. “When you are at one hundred perfect, I’ll give you the green light. Sounds good?”

You nod.

___

You’d wrapped up your midterm and you were ready to head home and take a nap. You walked through the student quad.

“Y/n!” Sicheng called out to you.

You turned around and found Sicheng running towards you.

You smiled, already warm in the face. “Hi.”

“I was wondering if you were free right now…”

“Really? Me?”

He smiled, confused at your question. “Yeah, you. Want to go to the movies with me?”

You nodded. “Absolutely.”

Sicheng drove you guys to the movies. He bought the tickets and the snacks. He let you pick the movie. You picked The Blair Witch Project. It came out over twenty years ago but the theater was doing a limited time screening of it.

You and Sicheng couldn’t shut up throughout the whole movie as you whispered to each and made each other laugh. You’d almost gotten kicked out of the theater.

You left the theater together and he asked you to dinner. You said yes. You were starting to think that this was a date.

“Y/n, this is a date, right?” He asked you at dinner.

You stopped eating your chicken parmigiana and looked at him with big eyes. “I think...Is it?”

Sicheng sighed. “I wanted it to be…”

You laughed. “Oh, thank God. I thought it was all in my head for a second. Maybe you were this nice to all of your friends.”

He pointed out, “I am not this nice to my friends, I can promise you that.”

Sicheng drove you home and kissed you goodnight before you entered your house. You felt like you were floating on a cloud now.

___

Two days later, there was a campus alert that Sicheng had gone missing. His face was all over the news. The last time he was heard from was when he told his best friend Jaehyun that he was going to ask you out to the movies. The last time he was seen was when he took you home.

Sicheng’s car was found a mile away from the dorms. The key was still in the ignition and his wallet and phone were left behind.

You were brought into the police station for questioning and you told them everything that happened the night Sicheng disappeared.

You were worried. What could have happened to him? Would he be alright? Would he be able to come back home? You missed him so much.

You took an evening stroll around your neighborhood to try and calm down. You reached the park where there was no other soul in sight.

Suddenly, you felt a tingly sensation in the back of your neck. You felt that someone was following you.  

You began to walk faster. Suddenly, you were pinned to the ground and everything turned black.

___

You woke up in Room 1196, then. Wait...It wasn’t 1196...It was a different room in Neo Hospital. The room was dark and you could only hear the sound of your breathing. It grew more hysterical with each second.

You felt a burning sensation in your neck. You cried out in pain. You cried out, “Help me, please.”

“Y/n…” You recognized Kun’s voice.

You nearly yelled out in pain but restrained yourself. “What...happened?”

“An animal attack,” he started.

You frowned. “What?”

Kun sighed. “It was good that I was there to help you in time, y/n…”

“What?”

Kun moved your hair out of your face. “I was in the neighborhood when I saw the beast attack your neck.”

“A beast?” You frowned.

“Sicheng, was it?”

Your eyes widened. “How do you-“

“You can’t hide anything from me, y/n...You know that’s not how our relationship works.”

“What are you talking about? Ahhhhh.” The pain was getting to be too much for you.

“Can you put two and two together, y/n? Sicheng bit you.”

You shook your head furiously. “No, he wouldn’t-“

Kun snapped his fingers and Sicheng entered the hospital room. His bright expression nowhere to be found. His eyes were a bright red and his lips had traces of blood on them.

“Sicheng?!” You asked.

Sicheng smiled, showing fangs in his teeth. “Hi, y/n…”

“Oh, my God!” You started.

Kun grew annoyed. “Alright, that’s enough pleasantries for my taste. Go.”

Sicheng walked away at his command.

You began, “What the-“

Kun smiled brightly at you then. This time, his straight white teeth displayed his own fangs. “Y/n...Sicheng has put you in a bit of a bind, hasn’t he?”

You tried backing away from Kun and getting off of the bed but it was almost as if the pain kept you from moving.

Kun ran the back of his hand down your cheek. “When a newborn vampire bites you, the bite is lethal...You could die anywhere between minutes and hours...It depends on the bitten, really…”

You flinched at his touch. “What...did you do to me?”

Kun inched closer to you and you winced. He lathered up the blood that leaked from your neck down to your collarbone.

“What had to be done, y/n. From the moment I first saw you, I knew that I had to have you.”

You cried out in pain. “Somebody help me, please! Sicheng, please!”

Kun, annoyed over you mentioning Sicheng, shut the door to the hospital room. “It’s useless, y/n. Sicheng wouldn’t be in this mess if he hadn’t infiltrated what is mine. Now Sicheng must endure the consequences and be at my mercy. I turned him so now he looks to me for instructions. Until I release him...Perhaps in the next millennium...”

You sobbed. “Kun, please make this pain stop! I can’t take it!”

He cooed. “I know, baby. I want to help you. Just say the word and I’ll make the pain go away.”

The pain dominated your senses so you couldn’t process how exactly he would make it go away. “Okay! Just do it!”

Kun got up onto the bed and straddled you. He leaned down towards your neck and bit into you.

You cried out again but this time the excruciating pain turned into a euphoria so glorious, you never wanted it to end. You wrapped your arms around Kun as he continued to drink your blood.

___

It was morning when you had woken up. You were in Room 1196 now. You shot up from your bed and found Kun seated right beside you.

“Good morning, darling,” he started.

You glared at him. “Bite me. Oh, wait, you already did.”

He smiled. “I see your energy is up. That’s good to see.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going home…”

Suddenly, you stopped right at the door and your throat started to burn. Your senses heightened and you could sense that one of the nurses was walking right past your room’s door. You wondered what she would taste like if you caught her by surprise right then and there and…

What the holy hell were you thinking?

Kun sighed. “Don’t kill Joyce. She’s the most competent nurse on the staff.”

You ran into your bathroom door and looked at yourself in the mirror.

But you couldn’t.

You put a hand over your mouth and sobbed. “Kun!!!!!”

Kun joined you in the bathroom. “Ah, yes. You won’t be able to gain access to your reflection for another twenty years.”

“Twenty years...What is going on?”

“But what else, y/n? I turned you. To save your life.”

“Turned me into what, Kun?! Say it!”

Kun smiled. “Darling, you already know. Just admit it to yourself.”

You cried. “No…”

“You’ve always wanted a new body. A new life, y/n. And I’ve given it to you. I’ve made you the most powerful creature on this damned planet: a vampire.”

You fell to the ground. You could feel your fangs against your tongue.“Kun! Why did you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?”

Kun sat with you on the ground. “Because I love you, y/n. I never want to be apart from you again.”

You spat in his face. “You made me into a monster.”

Kun, unbothered, wiped your spit away with the sleeve of his coat. “I did not. I made you the best version of yourself you can be. Time for you has become infinite. Your body is immune to all illnesses now. You can see clearly. Your metabolism is in top shape. You are a goddess now.”

You shook your head. “Kun, take it back.”

He chuckled. “You’ve seen enough movies to know that that’s not how it works, y/n...You are mine now. Forever. Just like Sicheng. Just like a lot of the staff in this hospital.”

You shook your head rapidly. “Like hell I’m yours.”

“Y/n, I have been very generous up until this point. Using my blood to help you overcome your chronic condition. Funding your hospital bills...The least you can do is submit to me....”

It was hard to process all of the truths he just delivered. “Your blood?”

He laughed. “You mean you couldn’t taste my blood in the herbal mixture?”

You were about to throw up.

He chuckled darkly. “Admit it, y/n. You loved it.”

“Fuck you, Kun!”

He smiled. “We’ll get to that…”

You sneered. “You are despicable.”

His smile faded. “And you are testing my patience…”  He snapped his fingers at you. “On your knees…”

You stayed on the floor with your arms crossed across your chest.

He frowned as he snapped again. “On your knees, y/n.”

“I don’t think so,” you said.

Kun looked taken aback. “What? How?”

You got up from the ground and looked at him. “I will never submit to you for as long as I live..” If vampires were even considered living.

You ran quickly out of the hospital room, realizing you had superhuman speed now. You were able to leave the historial without facing any temptation to bite someone.

But your thirst had to be satisfied somehow and you had to find a way to quench it without hurting anyone.

___

[2 years later]

You’d skipped town not long after you turned. You sent letters to your family without a return address so as not to risk their safety.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m so sorry I ran away. I had no choice. If I didn’t leave, you all would’ve been in danger. One day, I hope to explain it all to you but in the meantime, live your lives fully and love each other. Don’t take anything for granted. I love you so much and will see you again.

Love,

y/n

You had become an infamous blood bag bandit as you moved across the country, running away from Kun. He would occasionally try and track you. Or he would send his henchman like Sicheng to do it for him.

You were lucky so far. You had never attacked a human being and sustained yourself on some blood bags you were able to nab from donating trucks.

The reason why you didn’t submit yourself to Kun that day was indeed because of his blood. Consumption of his blood made you immune to his influence. He couldn’t have you like he had wanted all along.

Kun had been obsessed with you from the very beginning. When you were discharged from the hospital the time you met him, he continuously stalked you. At college, at the grocery store, at your home...It would explain why he was able to send Sicheng to attack you.

He always knew where you were back then.

Kun commanded Sicheng to bite you then and put you at risk of dying. Kun’s plan was to save you, make you his vampire queen, and control you.

It was a shame he failed to see that his creation of medicinal herbs was the one thing that would lead to his plan’s failure.

You were immune to his commands and you weren’t going to stick around and see how else he would try and “win you over”.

According to your research, in all public records, Kun was now twenty-six. A blatant lie since he couldn’t age. So you wondered how long he would remain in your hometown. You kept a careful eye on your family every now and then. You’ve made some contacts to track your family occasionally, as well.

Kun had stooped low and you prayed he wouldn’t stoop even lower to get you.

You worked hard every day to work on your rapidly growing vampiric abilities. You couldn’t stick around anywhere for too long without arousing suspicion.

Now you weren’t confined to one space anymore.

You were confined to running.

You hoped to one day bring it this madness to an end and take Kun down. Save Sicheng and Kun’s other minions.

And for you to truly be free.

[Fin]

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Prologue

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @btssmutgalore​ for everything you’ve done to help me! You’re amazing!

•••> Word Count: 2.3k

•••> Rating: 18+ • Please do not read if you are below the age of 18. I do not condone minors reading my work. Of course, I cannot stop you.

•••> Tags: angst | ceo!au | rockstar!au | CEO!Reader | Rockstar!Jungkook | AU!BTS | Exes to Lovers

•••> Warnings: a boatload of angst, heartbreak, cursing, pining, kissing, depression. Warnings are written specifically to chapter. Refer to the DHYB Main Page for the full rundown.

Note: I don’t have a beta reader so please forgive any mistakes I may have missed. Also, if you are confused by the italics, refer to the DHYB Main Page for info on that.

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Taglist: @apurpledheart​

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, add a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page!

NAVIGATION: | > Chapter One (M) –> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

~#~

NOW.

The bed was cold around you.

You felt yourself breathe. You felt your heart beating in your chest. You felt the evidence of physical life within your body.

But you couldn’t help the withdrawn and frigid feeling of death laced into your mind.

You felt alone. You felt longing. You felt numb yet riddled with too many emotions to comprehend all at once.

Overwhelmed with confusion, you went to the moment that brought you calm. It brought you peace and happiness despite the things lost.

The beautiful dream-like vision of butterflies and a certain meadow filled your memory as you laid in the darkness. Sighing with content, you let yourself remember.

“Fuck Jimin and his girlfriend. We can have all the fun on our own.” He sneered in his Satoori accent. After years of knowing you, Jungkook slipped from his proper accent whenever the two of you were alone. All you could do was chuckle at his harsh words.

The blanket laid out before you was a pristine sky blue. Jungkook had gathered small stones to hold it down at the corners.

“What have you been up to today?” You asked with a hint of breathlessness due to the trek the two of you had made to get to the peak of the large hill. Turning your head to look at him while you spoke, you noticed that his head was craned upwards, gaze locked on the sky.

In response to your query, he collapsed back onto the blanket, allowing his white t-shirt to slightly ride up, revealing a small sliver of the skin on his stomach in the process. The white reflected the sun in your eyes almost painfully, but not enough to take away from the angel-like glow that it gave him.

“Nothing much. Played video games for an hour or so. Cooked and made breakfast.” He angled his head slightly to look at you. "Finished up my essay for my philosophy class. You?”

“Oh, just the usual. Didn’t finish my calc assignment by noon so I’m only going to get partial credit for that.”

Your reply reminded you of how different the two of you were when it came to school. His alone time spent in his dorms went one of two ways; he either played video games with Taehyung or studied- there was no other. His scoff broke you out of your brief thoughts.

“You know, you’re going to end up falling behind this semester, and then we won’t have the same class for our last semester as college students.” His pout that accompanied his statement had your eyes flicking to his bottom lip which shined with a slight sheen of saliva, accentuating the plumpness of it.

It was no secret that you found Jungkook attractive. Hell, even Yoongi found him attractive and Yoongi was quite impassive. Even now, with his eyes squinting under the light of the sun, his hair messy, and a thin layer of sweat covering his skin, you found him absolutely breathtaking.

You remembered how the two of you met.

Shared classes brought you closer together. Ever since you had first met him during your sophomore year when you became part of a foreign exchange program in South Korea, the two of you clicked. Realizing that he spoke English- rough English- had you giddy and eager to teach him to perfect his language skills in return for helping you with your Korean. Needless to say, you learned Korean a bit quicker than he learned English seeing as one of your majors was dedicated to the language learning.

After you decided to stay in Korea and finish the requirements for one of your degrees at your other university online, the two of you grew close in the process of mutual education. When you decided to stay was when you actually got to know him.

He was pursuing a degree in music, specializing in vocal performance, while you were working towards a double major in political science and language studies with a minor in business. Although you were packed full of classes, your work ethic was definitely capable of improvement despite having helped you survive to senior year.

“I know, Kook, but I honestly don’t know why math is required for my major anyway. I just want to be done with it.” You grumbled and adjusted your clothes before laying beside him.

He sighed wistfully, signifying his state of relaxation and calm, which you found yourself fighting a smile for. Of all of the time you had been around Jungkook, he was always emotionally charged or stressed. There was never a time you knew him to be absolutely at peace or silent in the way he acted. To hear him decompress was still a relatively new concept to you and had you giddy to relax with him in hopes that he would open up to you.

A few moments of silence rested between you both, effectively ending the previous conversation.

“Do you think about him anymore?” He voiced, distracting you from eyeing a cloud as it covered the sun. The break from sunlight was welcome on your straining brows.

It took you a moment to respond, caught off guard by the loaded question. He knew of your situation because you were open with him. But why did he care? “Sometimes. I know that he wasn’t good for me. I know that I gave him too much slack and that’s why he lied to me.” You sighed.

“Yeah,” He chuckled dryly. “That dude was an asshole.”

“I still don’t get it. I told him that everything he did was okay. I told him all he had to be was honest and that I wouldn’t be mad at him.” The frustration of your breakup with your ex-boyfriend was nowhere close to being gone. Eleven months of lies and deceit despite the good memories was difficult to remove from your conscience.

He had used drugs, something you weren’t a fan of. Despite this, on top of the fact that it was illegal, you knew that it helped his depression and you loved him throughout his questionable choices on how to treat himself. All you had asked for was his honesty; all you wanted was for him to tell you when he used.

Jungkook sat up to look at you. He frowned and then reached towards you to brush away some of the hair that fell over your forehead.

“I get that he did you wrong. Believe me. I get it. But the fact that you still think about it is irritating. It’s been a year, right?” His scowl made him look adorable.

“Something like that.” You sighed.

“And you haven’t moved on?” He asked, concerned. You were about to reply in defense before he cut in again. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know you don’t have those types of feelings for him anymore, but you haven’t moved on from the situation?”

Your reply was curt. “I’ve moved on. I’m just annoyed.”

He sighed and looked down at his hand that he wasn’t leaning on, toying with the fabric of the blanket, before laying back down with an elongated exhale. He knew this conversation was over.

After a while of laying down in the sun in comfortable silence, you noticed that the clouds were starting to roll in more frequently, accompanied by a cooler breeze. When you craned your head back to look upwind, you saw the darkness of a storm system crawling across the sky.

“Hey Jungkook. I think we-“ Snore.

You cut yourself off at the sound, quickly snapping your head to survey the sleeping boy beside you. Eyebrows completely relaxed and lips slightly parted, he was a sight to behold. His hair had fallen over his eyes slightly, urging you to return the favor in brushing it out of the way. He stirred slightly before settling back down and sighing. What a sight to behold indeed.

The deep rumbling of thunder is what caused you both to jump and look at the sky. “Jesus.” He croaked while abruptly sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure. I only realized you were sleeping a few seconds ago.” You began picking up your things whilst he picked up the blanket, draping it over his arm.

The first few raindrops of the storm had only just begun; a light pitter-patter at random places in the grass began slowly at first, gradually picking up pace as you and Jungkook were packing up the last of your things.

You giggled as the rain started hitting your face. It reminded you of tiny, cold kisses. Jungkook, on the other hand, used the blanket to shield his head after slinging his backpack onto one shoulder. His face was scrunched up in an unconscious attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” He huffed tiredly.

“Good idea.” You laughed.

The trek down the hill and back to Jungkook’s old truck accelerated to a jog following the increased pattern of raindrops hitting the ground. Before long, even you were seeking shelter under the blanket he was holding over his head. After a few minutes of laughing breathlessly and bumping into each other on the path back to the truck, you had decided to hold the other end of the blanket since he wasn’t really holding it over your head effectively. His free arm consequently ended up slung over your shoulders while your free arm draped over his.

The tan truck came into view after your twenty-minute journey back. By this point, the blanket had soaked through and both of you were drenched. Making quick work of the passenger side door, he slid in first to cross the seat while you followed suit with a huff.

“Well…” Jungkook trailed off, placing his bag and the wet blanket between you before running his fingers through his long and very wet hair in order to push it away from his eyes. “Shit.” He looked at you with finality and a small grin gracing his face.

You gazed at his beauty, glancing at his lips as he spoke, before meeting his chocolate brown gaze. Want filled your body as the adrenaline from the past few minutes surged through your veins, rendering you mute. Heartbeat running absolutely erratic and breath suddenly short, you became acutely aware of how tight of a space the two of you were in and how quiet the cabin of the truck became.

Oh, how you wanted to kiss him.

The seconds seemed to pass like hours. The mood in the truck morphed from playful and light to something else. Something thicker. Headier. Heavier.

The pressure of the moments passing by bristled you with tremors as your previous levels of adrenaline spiked almost uncontrollably. You didn’t miss the way his bottom lip twitched in the slightest of movement.

His eyes glanced at your lips for a split second, giving you no time to adjust to the quick movement, before his hand was on the back of your neck to usher you to him in a messy kiss. Heat flooded your body as the taste of his breath caressed your tongue.

“Y/N.” He breathed after momentarily pulling away. His dark eyes were filled with passionate fire, pupils dilated almost scarily. “You-” His lips reattached to yours before he could finish speaking, illuminating just how shocked and pleased he was with your kiss.

His lips were as soft as silk as they glid against your own, slotting perfectly in shape. His warm breath tasted mildly of morning breath- not that you minded- but mostly blueberry as you came to discover that he had slipped a jolly rancher into his mouth sometime during your journey back to the truck. You giggled at the thought of how much he loved candy, earning a smile from him as he continued to press his lips to your own.

There was no way you’d be able to pull away just to speak. Speaking was so unnecessary. Words were irrelevant in that moment. 

Why speak when you could kiss him? When you could feel the way his lips moved against yours in ways they could never move when speaking? When they conveyed more emotions than any word could ever express? Why would you even bother ever speaking anymore when you could spend the rest of your life kissing Jeon Jungkook?

You answered your own questions as his arm lopped around your waist to pull your body closer to his: you wouldn’t.

Of course, those were thoughts in the heat of the moment. Simpler times called for simpler feelings. The pure and innocent ardor of love and adoration paired with the excitement of new attraction was a welcome sensation in contrast to the empty and cold feeling of your everyday life. You were sick of feeling numb.

Too many years were spent in emotional solitary confinement. Keeping your emotions at bay began affecting your health, causing your hair to thin and your skin to wither like paper. It took looking at yourself in the mirror after mulling over a photo of you and Jungkook before you noticed the difference. You hadn’t even noticed that you lost a considerable amount of weight.

Therapy had helped for a little while, but it didn’t assist you when you began seeing his face on news articles and TV once your sessions ended.

Even after the things that he had done, you were no stranger to the feeling of longing that you had for him- for the echoes of what used to be.

In your cold, companionless room, tears ran down your cheeks in mourning.

Of course, it was too good to last.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I'm a sucker for Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, so You have Headcannons about it?

I'll Start saying that One of My First Playthroughs Treecko was my partner, so When Grovyle shows up I Made The Crazy HC that he was my partner from The future ajdbdj

Oh my good friend, it depends on which game you’re asking about! 

But in general, I do love the wild implications and questions raised by having a Treecko on your team in Explorers. I suppose a similar idea presents itself in Rescue Team, though not involving time travel. Imagine if your partner was a Charmander, and the Charizard on Team A.C.T. was actually their biological dad? Just something to think about. Speaking of fathers, can we just take a moment to give a shoutout for how Dugtrio is depicted? (In Explorers, I can’t remember if they did the same thing in Rescue) I know it’s because they have three heads, and I know referring to oneself as multiple people isn’t really something that we see in the same context in real life...but Dugtrio being the way they are and everyone just accepting it, despite how it’s different than the norm...that’s such a great example to set? Like, I didn’t get it as a kid, but I so appreciate it now. It’s an unorthodox form of representation, but the writing of Dugtrio’s character has its heart in the right place. 

Most headcanons I have will probably be for Explorers, since while I love all of these games, that is the one that I’ve played backwards and forwards. Here’s one: The Multiverse Theory. I believe there are several timelines that have occurred and overlap each other. The Dark Future, as well as the Restored Future that the heroes create, are just two examples. I feel like Darkrai would have tried several times, creating new portals for each failure. 

Here’s a tricky question: If the Time Gears are supposed to be in Temporal Tower, and even have slots fitted for them...why weren’t they there in the first place? Why were they placed in different locations around the world? If Darkrai moved them, why did they have Guardians who seemed to have been there for generations, assuming that that was where the Gears were supposed to be? Here’s another question: The Time Gear depicted on the loading screen for Explorers of Darkness...what was that about? As of Sky, we’ve seen every Time Gear location, and there were only five...this is what I mean. Multiverse. That location looked a hell of a lot like the Dark Crater. I bet there was a timeline where Darkrai kept one of the Time Gears to ensure Temporal Tower could never be fully restored. We only know that he “sabotaged it” after all. 

Here’s another question about Darkrai’s powers: How the heck does he have the ability to transfigure a human into a pokemon? How was he able to do that? I’m pretty sure the amnesia was just a naturally occurring side-effect, that the MC bumped their head or something. So that would answer that question. Here’s another point - Darkrai was aiming for Grovyle. MC shielded him. Which of course raises the question - what the heck would that attack have done to Grovyle? I’m not sure, part of me wonders if it wouldn’t have reduced him to being a Treecko, perhaps? That could be the connection. Or maybe it was just a run of the mill nightmare attack that he’s known for, but since it was meant for a Pokemon’s mind, it responded different to a human’s? What if the MC being a pokemon is, itself, a kind of dream, come to life? 

The Dimensional Scream. This ability is so weird. In the past, it can work on anything. In the future, it’s only Time Gears. Why is that? I feel like maybe it has some connection to how the Time Gears being in different places across different timelines. How in some, they’re in Temporal Tower, yet in others, they’re around the world. I wonder where an ability like this would come from, and why only humans can have it. Why couldn’t say, a psychic type pokemon have this power? We see from the MC’s transformation that they retain the ability even in a Pokemon’s body. So again, why is it only humans who can have this power? That’s not even getting into the unanswered questions about how humans fit into this universe. It’s not like Gates to Infinity where humans are directly established to be seen as fairy tales to the Pokemon. In this game, they know what humans are, but the player is the only one they ever meet. 

Here’s a fun theory. Those Time Gears fit into Temporal Tower, into a shape that looks like one big Time Gear. Suppose in the original, true timeline....it was all  one Gear? That Darkrai’s sabotage was what broke it into pieces? Suppose the fracture of time is what caused all the divergent timelines to become possible, to overlap? Suppose the MC is psychically attuned to the fracture in time, and that connection is what creates the Dimensional Scream? It would tie in with how it’s animated, that’s for sure. It could go a ways to explaining why the ability is so random. Why it sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t, and how it even seems to be affected by the presence of Time Gears or lack thereof. What if The Dark Future is a kind of chasm where all of the timelines are leading to unless changed, and within the Dark Future, time itself is dying? After all, everything has frozen, and Dialga has lost all sense of reason.  So the connection to other timelines is actually weaker in the Dark Future, hence only being able to use The Scream in connection to the Time Gears?

I’d imagine the MC was a coveted asset in the war. That Dusknoir would have, at one time, badly wanted to recruit them to work for Primal Dialga, because they would be the greatest weapon the Resistance could possibly have. But both the MC and Grovyle were willing to let themselves die to bring a better tomorrow (or well, “today) for the pokemon (and humans?) of their world. You know how Grovyle talks about seeing the sunrise for the first time? The morning after Darkrai’s attack? How much it blew him away and strengthened his resolve? Yeah, I think about that moment a lot. Man, the plot twists and characters in these games are so good. Even if you predicted the Grovyle/Dusknoir switcharoo, did anyone see the “My best friend...” twist coming? I know I didn’t, but it was so well foreshadowed! Speaking of that scene, the place we meet up with Celebi is absolutely the future version of Fogbound Lake. I don’t know if that was supposed to be obviously true, or if it’s just a head-canon on my part, but it seemed pretty clear. Hell if we assume that the portals can only travel through time, not space...then that means Dusknoir just brought us to the future of Treasure Town. What if...what if the Stockade was what’s left of the Guild? Oh my god. 

Let’s talk about the Partner. How they had the Relic Fragment with them, the key to powering the Rainbow Stoneship, the beacon to signal Lapras...and the Partner just “happened to pick it up somewhere.” Seriously, that’s all we get. They handwave the question of where the hell the partner got this, and I think it’s an important one to think about. The way I see it, there are two possibilities. One, that the Relic Fragment itself chose the Partner, and thus presented itself to them. Think of like, the Sword of Gryffindor presenting itself to someone from that House who is worthy. If the Relic Fragment could somehow sense within the Partner’s soul that they were worthy, a good person. The other possibility is that the Relic Fragment was somehow stolen from where it was meant to be kept, and ended up getting passed around, stolen or moved by unsuspecting pokemon until it fell into the partner’s lap by pure chance. But if I had to guess a resting place for the Relic Fragment...hmm. I don’t know why Waterfall Cave is my first guess, since it doesn’t suit the aesthetic of the gem room at all. But it does have a built in trap. What if the gems were just a decoy to distract any visitors from the seemingly less fancy Fragment? Would make sense, especially since you can’t pick them up. Hell the cave itself is supposed to be a secret in general.