#next upload is 'we're back together (in love with the same man?)'

[butch-chastity]

brief primer on their many, many problems

[dailydemonspotlight]

Ianna - Day 187

Race: Lady Alignment: Light-Chaos June 17th, 2025 (Uploaded June 18th, 2025) Happy Pri-demon-th!

Something that's curiously connected quite a bit in many mythologies is war and love. The fact that hate and love are two sides of the same coin is something that has always been seen throughout history, but the associations of battle and love have been a curious connection dating all the way back to some of the most foundational societies we know of, such as the people of Sumer. Whether it be for contrast, such as with Aphrodite being the complete opposite of Athena, or in the case of Inanna, today's Demon of the Day... sometimes, it's both. A warrior goddess who also serves as the mother of the land. Not a mother goddess, though. I'll get into that later.

Inanna could be seen as one of the main deities in the entirety of the Sumerian canon, rising from already having a popular start initially with a rather large cult to becoming the essential head of the entire Mesopotamian pantheon. However, this doesn't begin to explain the fact that she's also one of the most complicated and downright contradictory figures in Mesopotamian canon, if not mythology as a whole. Portrayed in many lights, several of which are completely contrary to several others, she's multi-faceted on the best of days. However, if there's one thing that ties all of these interpretations of Inanna together... it's her very open sexuality.

With that loose thread hanging open, I'll move on to who she actually is. Her origins are commonly contested, with many myths ascribing her different roles; the granddaughter of Enlil is the most common interpretation, with her also sometimes being seen as the daughter of Enki, god of wisdom, or the daughter of Nanna, goddess of the moon (and also wisdom.) Inanna herself serves several roles, each of which were incredibly important, split between several facets: the goddess of war, the goddess of birth, and the goddess of sensuality/sexuality, to name a few. However, Inanna herself didn't seem to bear many, if any, children at all; her role was mostly as an overseer of childbirth and sexuality. And I mean sexuality.

Inanna's identity was highly tied to her sex appeal, and she was less a goddess of fertility and general and more a goddess of... uh, getting it on. Several of her sources are effectively written like Mesopotamian smut, showing her love for being in charge in the bedroom, especially with her husband, Dumuzi, with many passages being warmly written sex scenes. She was meant to be an epitome of sex appeal, and her love for dominance also ties into her other sphere as the goddess of war. Past this, Inanna was also frequently identified with Ishtar, who was more commonly seen as a goddess of war as well.

To add on to all of this, one of Inanna's traits was her ability to effectively change someone's gender. Attested to in some of her own tales, such as a passage in a poem titled Passionate Inanna, she's written as such: ‘To destroy, to create, to tear out, to establish are yours, Inanna. / To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inanna.’ Not only this, there are records showing that several members of her cult stood outside of the gender binary, such as the statue of 'Ur-Nanshe,' who was a member of this cult who had breasts and an effeminate look, but had a very masculine name.

All of this is to say that the contempt for her design in SMT IV:A is very understandable; it represents next to nothing about Inanna herself, and instead plays up her 'mother goddess' role that she didn't even have outside of being a primary member of the pantheon and being promiscuous. I honestly find her original concept art to be a far better representation of her as a whole, though even it is flawed.

Still, this goddess and her cult does show that non-binary and transgender people have always existed, even in our very first ever civilizations. We're not just a new thing. We've always existed.

[the-kr8tor]

16?!! I'VE WRITTEN THAT MUCH SINCE THE LAST BESTIE THOUGHT?! Lol i can just imagine you sighing and adding a fic to the tabs whenever i upload a new one 🤣

Yeah same but the longer it does that i just wanna get out of there and go home lol

Oh i feel that through my bones 🥲 for me I'd have fun for like an hour or two but after my social battery runs out i just wanna go home

HAHAHAHHA i just realized that 😂 they'd be surprised that the footage ends up like a garbled mess

Hmmm definitely both!! Those were really good points

Oh god imagine that 😬

Aww the image of the doggo with earmuffs got me all 🥺

Hell yea treat them like paparazzi!

LMAOOOO IMAGINE THAT 😂

It's definitely flash/eugene! Who's the new guy?

Social anxiety is scared of james fr

I was thinking that he just started college a bit later on! Him and Hobie are def the same age tho

HAHAHHAHA that's so true!! He's always looking for his wifey

I'd like to say that it's both. Like MJ knows that r doesn't like that stuff but under that she doesn't share the same feelings as r in that department 😔 like for r, mj is it, that's her best friend her ride of die and for mj that feeling dwindled through the years and she has gotten used to r and kind of placed her in the back of her mind and r definitely feels it too since they spend a lot of time together at home. As for MJ's band, they see her as just her roommate and friend nothing else

🤣 they will! Maybe

We're r in this situation lol

Same and i only like them if they're softer than a regular corduroy

True same thoughts here!!

I actually deleted a line that described the handkerchiefs! If i remember correctly it was a patterned one with a simple h.b stitched at the hem. I should've added that hmm 🤔 i think it got lost while i was editing it and i just forgot to add it again lol

HAHHAHAHA there she is officer! The one who pushed them! 😂

YESS EXACTLY THAT I LOVE U!!! This will definitely be tackled in the next chapter!!

HELL YEA R DESERVES TO BREAK SOME PLATES!!

Oh harry def goes to those usual hunts wink wink nudge nudge r was suspicious too but it'll be revealed soon hehe

The rolodex killed me 🤣 the only thing I'll say is that--- *gets shot*

Right?! Like they literally went there together! She should notice!!

Yeah :(

Imma say it, r should've hit the camera man

Lmaoooo who are u harry Osborne and what do u want 😂 i need r to say that to his face *writes that down* 😂

I would've chased them with a broom

Their relationship is messyyyy

HAHAHHAHAHAHA BESTIE 😂

R had the same thoughts like "did they date????"

Hehehe thank u!! I was giggling while writing that part

R should have gayatri as her best friend instead of mj

LMAOOO That took me awhile to get 😂

HAHAHHAHAHAHGA Me when Peter b showed up in atsv

Yesss it fits him! Poor miguel ppl don't understand that he doesn't own the company 😂

HELL YEA SOMEONE FINALLY NOTICED!!

LOL he's crushing so hard!! R gives him a bottle of water-- gasp you remembered i like water! 😍

Their relationship is a cup of milk left out in the counter overnight 😂

Do I Wanna Know?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Hobie invites you to a gig and it doesn't end well.

Word count: 14.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), Reader has nicknames, co-worker AU, part 2, mockumentary AU, slow burn, co-worker! Hobie, CW alcohol, CW anxiety, a bit of loser! Hobie.

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Co-worker AU Masterlist

Buy me a ☕?

Part 2 >>> Part 3

The music booms around the bar, bass reverberating against the sticky walls whilst the boom mics had to be toned down unless it'll break from the sheer volume. The glasses on the tables shake from the loud music, it's all felt through your chest. You stand near the bar, draped in black and a clearly borrowed leather jacket that still bears the initials of its owner right on the lapel— MJ.

Spotlights flicker in and out in the darkened room as the cameras hone in on your bobbing head and shining eyes. Your face says you're having fun, but from how you hug yourself and how you make your presence smaller by hiding behind the cheering crowd— you look uncomfortable to say the least. The music is nice while you tap your foot to the rhythm, but the new place and unfamiliar faces meld together in harmony to make you feel as out of place as possible.

Pursing your lips together as your gaze falls on Hobie's bare arms down to his lithe fingers playing the guitar expertly, you feel like a creep at your obvious ogling of your co-worker. Your hand feels frozen around your drink, as you take a sip, expecting the warm concoction to ebb through you, there's nothing left but a drop of it. You frown, eyes roaming around the noisy venue, trying to look for MJ until it stops at the out of place camera crew all huddled around in the corner.

Blinking, you narrow your eyes at them, realization flits across your face and morphs into shock and disgust.

“Fuckers.” You say, muffled and quiet enough to not be picked up by the boom mic as you place your glass on the table with a thud.

The documentary crew dodges the dancing crowd and elbows flying around as they get to you. All the while you try to escape from them by weaving through the crowd.

“Is that a dog?” Your eyes catch a four legged friend. You pause in the thick of it, pointing at an actual dog being carried around on someone's shoulders. It's meant to be a distraction for the camera crew, but it has you stopping by to look at the very happy dog getting pet by everyone.

The crew doesn't believe it at first while they're still a few steps behind you, but as you continue to point at the dog, they wrench the cameras away from you to film the dancing dog in the crowd. When they look back at you, you're already gone.

The numerous sweaty limbs uncomfortably brushing along your arms as you dodge people has your skin crawling. The cameras still follow you around like paparazzi as Hobie's band continues to play, adrenaline flowing through the lunch club as they play and sing their hearts out. You almost make it out towards the bathroom, but you're stopped by the owner of the jacket you're currently wearing.

“Woah, where are you heading out to? I got your refill.” The redhead shows you a half empty glass of your preferred drink as she places a hand on your shoulder. You sigh and look behind you, finding that they're now filming you and hounding you. MJ notices them, and tries to shoo them away with a sharp glare. They take a step back, and only that.

You fully face the camera and get hit straight on by the bright light held by a crew member. Shielding yourself with your hand over your eyes, you look like you're about to hit them.

“Why are you all even here? It's Saturday!” You yell above the loud music, peripheral picking up Hobie looking at you, or behind you as MJ steps in between you and the camera.

“C’mon, guys, leave the girl alone.” Her words are slightly slurred around, clearly tipsy from drinking.

The producer tries to say something, and you only pick up the words, ‘contract’, and ‘obligated’ above the sound of the raging crowd and the guitar riff on stage. You take a glimpse at the show and you almost fall backwards from how Hobie's making his guitar sing with his expert movements.

“Obligated for what?” MJ asks for you, body nudging your own when her balance fails her.

“To film some drama!” This time, the producer yells above the sound.

“Drama? There's no drama here! It's just us hanging around!” The audience's clapping falls in your deaf ears. “Go away, we're not at work!”

Just as you say it, Hobie jumps off the stage, instruments and all. Even the cameraman has a shocked look on his face. Before you could react, ears still ringing from the prolonged loud sound banging around in your eardrums, and the shining light blaring in your eyes, you're overwhelmed by everything. The alcohol in your system doesn't help. Hobie siddles up next to you, an after show musk coupled up with burgundy wafts on your nose. His elbow perches on your shoulder, eyeing the lenses that stare back at him.

“Hobie—”

“Y’know, ‘m not one to complain ‘bout shit like this but,” he pokes the lense, smudging it with his index finger. “Stay the fuck away, yeah? Or I'll get your little show cancelled before it premieres on shitty cable.”

The producer grumbles and glares at Hobie before leading the rest towards the far end of the bar. After a quick wipe on the lense, they continue to film your group from a distance. At least they're not in your space anymore.

“Thank you, Hobie—”

“Hobie, our knight in shining armor!” MJ exclaims, warm breath fanning across your cheek as the cold drink spills all over your front.

“Shit, MJ!” You flinch away, frantically wiping at your blouse that now smells of alcohol and regrets.

“Fuck, I'm sorry!” She grabs a napkin from the nearby table to the dismay of its occupants. Fruitlessly dabbing on your blouse and smudging the wetness even more.

Hobie takes a handkerchief from his pocket and gives it to you. “I think your friend ‘ere has had too much to drink, love.”

“Thank you.” You give him an apologetic look as you desperately try to dry yourself off.

You wince at how you probably look like in front of him and his band right now. Hobie looks handsome in his leather and metal getup complete with mascara running down his cheeks. You never thought that running mascara would look good on anyone, but here's Hobie proving you wrong once again just like the fishnets decorating his arms that are in full display from his sleeveless shirt. A sleeveless shirt is a generous way to call it as it's ripped from his armpit down to his lean stomach. You feel lightheaded.

To add insult to injury, the rest of his band appears from the stage. Sweat clinging on their brows, instruments still in their hands as they look at you with unfamiliarity.

“Yeah, sorry, h–hi.” You laugh nervously, eyes roaming around the familiar faces and new ones that accompany him. “I made it— we made it.” MJ is still trying to wipe at your probably see through blouse right now. But Hobie's eyes are staying right on your face, you can't say the same thing to one of his blond mates though. Grabbing the edges of the leather jacket, you close it around yourself and make your roommate stop fussing around you.

“Hey!” MJ stumbles backwards but Hobie catches her with a firm hand around her wrist. “Thanks, dude.” She clumsily winks, and you regret letting her out of your sight for five minutes when she went to the bathroom.

“Sure,” Hobie smiles just as a pink spotlight illuminates his face. You're sure the camera crew are having a field day, and you're definitely going to complain to O’Hara when you get back to work. Clearing his throat, he sidles up next to you once again, palm placed on your shoulder and nudging you in place. “Meet the band, this ‘ere is Yuri.” He points towards a woman with slicked back hair and dark shadow around her brown eyes.

“Hey,” she nods at you, spiked earrings moving around. “I met your friend in the bathroom before we played, I had to stop her from calling her ex.”

“Thanks?” You eye MJ, and she cowers away from you teasingly as she hides behind Yuri, who only chuckles at her. “I—I mean, nice to meet you Yuri.”

Hobie grins as he continues to introduce you to his friends, including the blond aka James, who's six foot two and looks like he came out of a magazine catalogue. Giving a spare glance at MJ, whose head is lolling back, but with Yuri's help, she's kept upright. “This one's Ned, my roommate, who's leavin’ me for some fancy school.”

Ned rolls his dark eyes at Hobie, keyboard placed next to him as he gives you a hand to shake. “He's overdramatic,” you take it with a smile and let go not a moment longer. “I'm just moving to a dorm.” Hobie dramatically pouts, chin placed on your shoulder that he immediately moves away after what his adrenaline made him do. Ned gives him a knowing smile, one that the camera didn't miss out on. “Still going to be in the same city, I might add.”

“Nice to meet you, Ned. And I'm getting used to his overdramatic self.” You say, and Hobie nudges your side with feigned offense.

“You better get used to it, I think you two will hangout more.” Ned raises his brow at Hobie with a snicker.

“‘course they will.” Gwen clicks her tongue, arm looped over Miles’ shoulder, who doesn't seem like he minds it very much as he holds onto her hand gingerly.

Hobie gives her his middle finger as he leans against you. “You're jus’ jealous that I let her in the mailroom, Gwendy—”

A loud gasp and then a squeal can be heard from MJ, eyes wide as she gazes behind you. The whole group turns towards the bar where a familiar set of faces sits and waves her down.

“Mary Janes!” MJ bolts towards them, arms flailing around excitedly while her band meets her halfway.

You wince, thinking that your friend has ruined her first impression, and in turn yours.

As you turn towards Hobie, there's a smile on his face and eyes twinkling in the light as he watches MJ and her band embrace and jump for joy at the reunion. He notices your eyes on him, and as he meets with yours, his smile turns into a grin, piercings shimmering and hand splayed over your back. You're entranced by him, lips smiling bashfully as you feel your heartbeat quickening the longer he gazes upon you.

“They seem excited.” Yuri's voice smacks you out of your stupor.

Hobie looks away, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows down thickly. He coughs on his fist, hand falling away from your back to your slight disappointment. He still stays in place, elbow to elbow and shoulder to shoulder right next to you.

“Y–Yeah, they're always like that even though they see eachother everyday.” You manage to let out despite your wobbly legs.

“We should introduce ourselves.” James says as he combs his hair with his fingers and fixes his shirt.

Ned raises a brow at James as he saunters over to the all girl group. “I gotta make sure he doesn't get punched this time.” With a sigh, he follows his bandmate.

“I think I know the purple haired one.” Yuri murmurs, and slowly walks over to the bar with her eyes straining to have a look. “Oh shit, I definitely do.” She quickly walks towards them, even overtaking James and Ned.

You see MJ mouth something to her bass player, and the band's eyes collectively move towards the man standing next to you. They smile and beckon him and the rest of the band over.

“Good thing we have to leave before we have to socialise.” Gwen says, looping her arm around Miles’ shoulder. “Study at my place again, Miles?”

Miles visibly stiffens, mouth in a straight line. You swear you can see a bead of sweat dribble off his temple. “S–Sure.”

“You guys are leaving already?” You ask, smiling as Gwen holds out her fist to you. Awkwardly fist bumping her, Miles nods at you. An attempt to make a coherent farewell while Gwen still has her arm around him.

“Yeah, homework. College sucks, man.” She clasps Hobie's shoulder. “Take care of her, wanker.” She chuckles out, copying his accent.

“Sure, knobhead.” Hobie waves them off, watching as the pair walks out of the bar with Gwen's drum sticks sticking out of her back pocket and Miles lugging his guitar case. “Those two better have real homework for bailin’ on us. Did you like the show?” He asks, biting his lip.

“They're driving home?” You ask, worried about them. Your eyes glance over to his lips before flicking back to his brown eyes. “Yeah, I loved it. You were great— and the band too.”

“Don't worry about them, they're sober.” Hobie lingers next to you. “And thanks, love. I thought you wouldn't show up.”

“I couldn't miss it.”

“Too bad Pav ain't ‘ere, he fancies meetin’ other bands.”

“Oh, what happened to him?”

“Got himself sick after takin’ care of Gayatri.” He sighs as he leans against the wall casually with his hands tucked inside his pockets.

“That's too bad.” Glancing at the bar, you see them making introductions and it looks like they're all hitting it off. “Aren't you going to join them?” You nudge his boot with your own.

“Aren't you?” He raises a pierced brow, the corner of his lip tugging into a subtle smile as red lights flicker in and out of his face.

“I have to clean myself up before I make a fool out of myself even more.” You chuckle nervously, the lack of humour from your tone has Hobie standing up straight.

“You didn't do anythin’ foolish, love.”

“I smell like beer, and I'm not in my own clothes. I feel and smell silly.”

He twists in place, head laying against the wall as he turns his full attention on you. “You do smell like a pub right now.”

You groan, eyes closing briefly like you're in pain. “More reason to head to the bathroom and clean myself up.” Turning around to head towards the restrooms, Hobie reaches for your wrist, tugging you back in place.

“I like pubs.” He says a bit sheepishly as his hand remains braceleted around your wrist.

You feel like you're about to choke on your own breath. And the two of you haven't realized that the cameras are now situated right next to you and Hobie, a lot more sneaky this time as they use the darkness of the bar to their advantage.

“But why aren't you in your own clothes?” Hobie asks, genuinely concerned for you.

“I—” the cameras capture your wobbling lips and blown out irises. “I just thought I'd stick out like a sore thumb if I went in wearing my regular clothes.”

Hobie smiles, a softness etched in his smile lines and eyes slowly blinking at you. All the while the documentary crew records the whole thing with bated breath.

“Yeah, but you'll be yourself. That's better than tryin’ to blend in with the rest of the crowd.”

You inhale shakily, insecurity gnawing at the back of your neck. “Who would want that?” It's meant as a joke, a self deprecating one that's only targeted to yourself but a joke nonetheless.

“I would.” Hobie says matter-of-factly. “I might've seen you sooner while I was on stage. If you're uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else. Bail on these arseholes.”

“I'm not uncomfortable— well, not because I don't want to be here. I do want to be here.” You ramble on and he listens wholeheartedly. “It's just…I get nervous around new people, and being at a new place…it's just I don't know.”

“Nah, I do know.” He pats your bicep, palm warm as he lingers there for a second. “If it gets too much, tell me, and I'll drive you home or somewhere quieter.”

Biting your lip, you take a leap and take one step closer to him. You think he's about to move away from you, but he adjusts his position so you're perfectly in place in front of him; so that he can see your eyes illuminated by the spotlights. Your knee brushes along his own, and his hand grows closer to your hand, fingers dangling on the jacket's sleeve, mere inches from the back of your hand. A comfortable silence wafts over the two of you. After a beat, you finally talk.

“The coolest thing I have in my closet is a brown corduroy jacket and these boots.” You gesture by lifting your foot up to show him your high heeled boots with dangling stars on the laces. “And maybe a pair of spiky earrings that I bought when I was in highschool.” Chuckling, you try not to let your shyness ebb out ever since MJ managed to persuade you to get out of your well worn shell.

Hobie smiles with every word you uttered. “That sounds like a bloody good outfit, love. It suits you.”

“Maybe I'll wear that next time— I mean— if there's another show?” Your brave face falters.

He can't help but be endeared by your flusteredness. “We have another one if you're free on December twenty four, only if you can make it. It's a long shot, ‘m sure you have plans with mates and family.”

You nod a bit too enthusiastically, so you try to act more smooth by slowing your nodding. You have no idea if you look as suave as you think you are when you're probably smiling at him like you've won a car. Then it hits you, he's a colleague.

The fact that he's your co-worker at your very new job, a job that's still teetering you on the edge of unemployment whether you do good in the next six months or not. Maybe it's better if you just stay professional with him. Or at least just be friends, and you can't bring yourself to ruin what you currently have with Hobie so you'll keep talking to him. But if it's heading in the direction towards what you think it's going, you have to rein it in before you end up in the streets. Or worse, back in your parents house. It's just a well meaning crush anyway.

The cameras zoomed in on your face has a front row seat to your internal dilemma through your micro expressions that Hobie isn't privy to.

“I’ll see, I–I have to check first, it's the holidays after all.”

“Yeah, ‘course, love. No pressure.” Hobie beams, as if the prospect of your maybe was just as good as a yes.

“Do I have to bring a gift?” You joke, poking his stomach that you immediately regret after feeling the lean muscle underneath. If HR was here, you'd be in trouble.

Chuckling, Hobie shakes his head, trying to ignore the calling of his name from the other side of the bar. “Nah, but I won't say no to a present from you though.”

You snort, nodding awkwardly as your bout of bravery wavers away into the sounds of the bar. “Okay.”

“Hobie! Bruv!” James yells for him so loudly that half of the dancefloor looks towards the source.

Hobie groans, head falling down to his clavicle before turning towards him and flipping the bird. “Right, ‘m comin’” You smile as he cranes his head back to you. “C’mon then, they're an impatient lot.” He tugs you by your sleeve, but you stay in place.

You look between the waiting group then to Hobie. “I need to get cleaned up first, it's starting to get sticky.”

“Right, I forgot, go ahead I'll wait for you outside.” He lets your sleeve go, hands placed back inside his pockets as he gestures towards the bathroom right next to the stage.

“Oh no, it's fine. Go to them, I'll survive being alone for a few minutes.”

“You sure?” You nod as his face flickers with concern. “D’you have the handkerchief I gave you?”

“Yeah,” you take the said hanky out of your pocket. “Here, thanks again.”

“Keep it, love.” He laughs as the backdrop of dancing and wild lights frame around him.

“Shit, right, sorry, I need to wash it first.” Shoving the cloth down, you internally curse yourself.

“Nah, I meant that you should keep it.” Hobie starts walking backwards casually as the yelling of his name gets louder and louder that he's sure that they're gonna kick his band and the Mary Janes out of the pub.

“Wait, are you sure?” You ask him again just to be sure that he truly meant that he's giving it to you, but his figure is already retreating away with a smirk on his lips.

Watching him and the band together with your roommate and mutual friends brings a smile to your face. Even the smell of alcohol clinging to your front and your botched attempt at trying to act cool in front of your handsome co-worker couldn't ruin your night. Now all you have to do is clean yourself up and prepare your social battery for all the talking you're about to do. Going out of your shell might not be so bad after all.

Until you notice the sneaky cameras that is.

—

After much scrubbing and awkwardly drying your blouse under the bathroom’s hand dryer, you come out of it like a new woman who only faintly smells like booze.

The bar is still alive and in full swing just as you left it. An unfamiliar band plays on stage, hyping up the dancers. Spotlights flicker in and out to the beat, multicoloured lights illuminating your way towards the bar.

As you walk by a table, you notice the camera crew still inconspicuously (or trying to be) recording you.

“Really? Do you guys have nothing better to do?” You give up and decide to just ignore them from now on.

Dodging bodies and trays of drinks, you finally make it to the bar where your friends are. The place has gotten rowdier and nosier as more patrons filter through the doors. You smile as the bar is busier than ever, serving more people than when you left it. You look over to where you last saw them, only to find that strangers are now occupying the seats.

“Oh.” Your heart plummets down to your stomach, but you go on, roaming around the whole bar and doing laps to look at every table and every seat to find them. After going around the whole place three times, you end up back at the bar with a worried frown.

With the documentary crew still following you, you refuse to ask them for help when you've decided to ignore them.

“What's your poison?” The bartender asks you above the booming house music.

“Uh,” your hands involuntarily shakes. “Have you seen a red head with the band that played here?”

“That's not a drink order.” He says with a heavy tone.

“Please?”

You ask nicely, and his tough guy persona crumbles with a sigh. “Impossible to not notice them with a whole ass crew following right behind them.” He rolls his eyes, he's even annoyed at the cameras. “They went out for a smoke, but that was a long time ago. Paid their tab though.”

Relief washes over you as your stiff shoulders sag. “Thank you.” Quickly going outside, the cold hits your face like a train. “F–Fuck.”

It wasn't this cold when you got here, the freezing breeze nips at your cheeks, blowing at your lashes harshly and making you squint. The overcast sky greets you as you look up, grey clouds floating above. It looks like it's about to rain.

You hug your jacket tighter around yourself as you step fully outside into the street. Your jeans don't help much in protecting you from the cold, and your borrowed leather jacket feels like a denim jacket in a blizzard. At least it's not raining or worse, snowing. Your heeled boots would make you slip and crack your skull if there's sleet on the concrete.

“O–Okay.” You make your way towards an alleyway next to the bar where you surmise where people smoke. As you go around the building, you see a few people there but none of them have familiar faces. “Shit.” Your teeth start to chatter as you turn back around only to find the camera pointing right at you. You still refuse to even acknowledge them when you return towards the bar doors.

“Sorry, we're full.” The bouncer bars you from entering with a muscular arm stopping you. There's now a line around the building that you just notice through your slight panic.

“What?”

“We're full, sorry.”

“You just interchanged the words.” You huff, brows knitted together in worry. “Please, it's cold out here.”

“Go someplace else, kid.” He says gruffly, shooing you away before shutting the door right on your face. “There's a line, wait like the others.”

“What the fuck?” You've had enough and you grab your phone from your pocket. As you click it open, the screen doesn't wake and you're met with a black screen with your reflection staring back at you. You keep pressing the screen in hopes that it'll open, but to no avail. “F–Fuck.” You shiver in place, remembering that you forgot to charge it this morning.

The producer taps your shoulder and tries to hand you her phone.

“No, thank you.” With a frown, you put your foot down, shove your phone back in your pocket and continue walking towards the direction of the bus stop or what you think is where the nearest bus stop is.

“Other direction—” the man behind the camera says and you huff and turn the other way with your hands shoved in your pockets.

Your heels click against the pavement, body shivering as you feel like a walking popsicle. The sadness hasn't reached you yet, not when your fury keeps you warm. How could they just up and leave you like that? How could they even forget you? A whole ass person, and their friend? Especially MJ, whom you share a half of a locket with.

As you stop your marching, the camera pauses right with you as they stay further back. Your lip wobbles, sniffing and hands feeling numb. They forgot you, just when you finally feel like you're seen. Hobie forgot you.

Chest aching, and with a sob threatening to claw up and escape, you bite your lip that you almost draw blood. The fists hidden inside your pockets shakes, nails digging into your palms harshly and leaving crescent shapes on your skin. The producer pleads with you to ride in their van so you don't have to tread the cold but you insist with a glare and continue to ignore them.

“Y–You should go.” Your teeth clack against each other, while the soles of your feet now feel numb. The October weather isn't agreeing with you right now. “I can go on my o–own.”

“You'll freeze, and it looks like it's going to rain.” The cameraman says with frustration, “we can call you a cab.”

“I’m close to the stop, you don't—” you chase your breath. “You don't have to.” But you're starting to feel that walking to the bus stop might not have been the best idea. Maybe if you just admit defeat to the crew you'll be warm and cozy at home in no time.

You're so cold that you don't notice the car following right behind you.

“Let's at least go someplace—”

“Y/N?” A familiar voice calls out.

You stop, face lighting up with hope, only to find the source of the voice as someone you never thought you'd see outside of work. “Harry?”

He parks his car, leaning over the empty passenger seat to look at your shaking form. “What're you doing out here? You'll freeze to death.” He glances at the crew following right behind you. “Christ, they got you too, huh?” With a roll of the window on the backseat, he shows another set of camera and crew sitting behind him. “O’Hara's new memorandum is bullshit by the way.”

You could only shiver in place, not having enough warmth left to ask what he's talking about.

“Shit, you'll get frostbite. Get in.” Harry opens the door for you, and you shake your head. “I don't want to be responsible for Layla’s favourite dying on my watch. Please.”

“I–I can just go to the bus stop.” Your lips feel like icicles. And it's not even snowing.

“That's miles away from here.” His voice is laced with genuine concern.

“I don't— don't want to intrude.” There's clouds of smoke billowing out of your lips now that the cold has picked up. Maybe it's about to snow. “And I don't know you, you might be a murderer or something.”

Harry laughs, the least you expect from someone as straight faced as him. “There's literally cameras following us.”

“That's— that's still a no on the murderer part t–though.”

“If you don't get in and I let you stay out there then I'll definitely be a murderer.” His nose scrunches up, smiling at you. “And I really don't want to get fired.”

You look straight towards the cameras, before you could refuse again, raindrops drip down from the sky and towards the tip of your nose. That decides it for you. With a few steps, you enter Harry's car. The warm seats immediately make you melt into the leather chair. You put on your seatbelt and close the door to let the warmth stay as you sigh in your seat.

“You get in too.” Harry tells the camera crew that was following you to get in after you. “It'll be a tight squeeze but I'm sure you'll make do.”

You don't even realize that the car is now moving when you feel your tired and cold bones melting into the seat and your heavy lidded eyes overtake you.

“Hey don't fall asleep or you might not wake up.” Harry nudges your shoulder.

That has you immediately opening your eyes. “What?”

“You might have hypothermia.”

You scoff, “I don't have hypothermia.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles. “Show me your fingers, they might be purple.”

“I'm not showing you my fingers, Harry.” You hide your frozen hands inside your coat.

“You weren't saying that when you cut your hand with the stapler.” He says with a lilt, camera lenses moving in on his expression and your embarrassed ones. “Seriously, we should give you safety staplers instead.”

“You had the first aid kit!” You nervously laugh as he mirrors your smile, remembering how gentle he was while dabbing antiseptic to your ‘grievous’ wound. “I had to show you.”

“And thanks to my medical skills you still have your hand.” He jokes, emerald eyes shining in the rearview mirror.

“I already said thank you for the band-aid, Harry.” You roll your eyes, sniffing as you can finally feel your toes. “Are safety staplers even a thing?”

He makes a face, shrugging as he waits for the stoplight to turn green. “I dunno, maybe. So where am I dropping you?”

“So you're not going to ask?” You awkwardly shift in your seat.

“No, it's none of my business. Unless you're in trouble or hurt. Are you either of those?” He says with concern, eyes flicking over to your shivering form.

“No.”

“Then it's not my business to ask. So where to, ice princess?”

You scoff at the nickname, the sound akin to a flustered giggle. “Just the nearest bus stop is fine.”

“We passed that a long time ago, newbie. You're clearly not from around here.” The car idles in place, engine whirring in your ears.

“I'm not. And fine, just don't tell anyone else where I live—” you suddenly remember the cameras behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you narrow your eyes at them. “I want my street to be blurred out.”

The producer sighs but nods in agreement. Harry snickers with amusement.

“If you're not from here, where are you from exactly?”

“I'm not doing the whole…” you gesture around you, “...thing with you.”

“You don't like me very much, do you?” Harry raises a brow, briefly glancing at you. He doesn't sound hurt from your words, just genuine curiosity.

“I like you enough, you're my co-worker and I literally just met you. Would you tell someone you just met your life story?” You can definitely see Harry being a friend and not just a co-worker in the future, but you're still getting used to this life and making friends seems harder now that you're older. He's friendly to you at work and he once walked you to the bus stop and waited for you to get on when you both had to work late. He's kind at least, a good criteria to have as a friend.

“I do actually, that's how first dates usually go.”

“Well, this isn't a date so.” You say, immediately regretting being rude. “I—”

“You never know. Maybe next time it'll be one.” Harry says it so casually that it has you gawping at him for a second before looking back at the road. In the corner of your eye, you see him clenching his teeth, probably cringing and regretting his comment. The car starts again, and the silence hovers above you. “Address then? Unless you want me to keep driving around blindly.”

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat. From embarrassment? Maybe. But definitely not from an uncomfortable feeling. You can't deny that his brown locks and green eyes aren't pretty. Well, not Hobie pretty, but still, handsome enough that has you flicking your eyes at his side profile. Hobie seems to hate the guy, but you still don't know why he could hate him when he's decent and seems to be nice enough to you. Perhaps there's something going on between them. A tiff or even something more? The thought provokes you as you hatch a plan to know the reason why Hobie glares at the man during meetings and when he's doing his rounds. Meanwhile Harry isn't phased by it, not ignoring him per se, indifferent more like.

As the camera crew stops filming due to the lull in conversation, you guide Harry to your place. Would it hurt to give your saviour a cup of tea before he heads in his way?

—

“Shit!” Hobie honks the van’s horn loudly, the camera behind him shakes from the sudden stop. “C’mon pick up the bloody phone!” Your caller ID blinks out as the call drops after a few rings. “Damn it.” He shakes his head at the traffic while the rain is finally rolling to a stop, now a slight drizzle.

Being the designated driver for tonight did not give him any favours. At least he saw you in all your glory without the haze of alcohol in his veins. But with him being the only sober one in the group, he had to drive everyone else to James' lest something unsavoury happens to them.

The scene shifts to back at the bar, the bass hitting him right in the chest as he glances at the bathroom door to check in on you from time to time. Hobie catches the cameras doing the same thing, filming the door and Hobie's face as he waits and sighs in his seat while everyone else were having shots and laughing.

“Fuck off.” He mouths, flipping the bird at the cameras. It's blurred but still recognizable thanks to the crappy blur. The other half of the crew are nowhere to be seen, maybe out for a smoke break.

A shrill gasp can be heard, and the camera hones in on MJ, who's bouncing on her feet.

“We should all go!”

That doesn't bode well in Hobie's ears as he tries to pry Yuri's twelfth shot from her hands. “Go where?”

“To James'!” James himself slurs, raising his glass as everyone else is cheering for him.

The thing with bands drinking together is that within fifteen to twenty minutes the drinking could put a sailor to shame. But with Hobie's band and MJ's band combined together, it only took ten minutes for them to get the bartender's signature disappointed shake of his head.

“Wait—!” Before Hobie could voice out his protest for you, who's still missing out on the fun, the rest are already drunkenly putting on their jackets as James wobbles on his feet and closes the tab. He sees that James definitely overpaid as the rest head out. With the van keys dangling in between Ned’s not-so-sober fingers, he groans and briefly glances at the door in hopes to see you coming out. Still no you though.

“Shit.” He panics, grabbing a napkin on the counter and plucking a pen from the bar that he had to go over the counter in an awkward way to fetch it. He side-eyes the camera on him, grimacing that they captured the scene in 4k. With a hasty scrawl of explanation of where they went, he writes that he'll come back for you. After a quick look, he calls the bartender. “Oi, mate,” the man shifts his gaze at the note with a bored gaze. “Can you give this to someone for me?”

“Depends, what's in it for me?”

“‘m with the group that just tipped you a fifty, bruv.”

He rolls his eyes and opens his palm begrudgingly. “Fine.”

“Thanks, she's wearin’ a leather jacket and is probably followed by a camera crew, yeah?” Hobie hurries, walking backwards until the man nods. The docu crew follows behind him, adding to his annoyance.

He only hopes that the bartender gave you the message, he'd hate it if you thought that they abandoned you. Well, the rest did, even your own roomate did, but not him as he races down the street to get to the same pub.

Finding a parking spot was a horror show, with desperation, he parks the car next to another on the street, turning on the hazard lights. The car door slams, not missing another minute of leaving you alone. The crew had to quickly run after him, camera shaking in place as they sprint after him.

There's a long line outside the bar that wasn't there before, and now he knows why they got the time slot in the hip bar.

Hobie heaves, a dried leaf crunches under his boots as he calls for the bouncer. “Mate, can you let me in, ‘m jus’ gonna pick up a friend.”

“I've heard that before, dude, no chance in hell.” He gets barred by the security guard with a burly hand on his chest.

Hobie curses internally as a car honks for him to get the van off the street. “Listen, ‘m just gonna do a quick run around to see if she's there. C’mon, bruv, she's alone in there.” He gestures towards the door, voice rising an octave as he worries about you.

“Well, shouldn't have left her all alone in there then.”

He can't even argue with that when he did exactly that. The car honks again, looking over his shoulder to see a few more cars lining up to get around the van. “Fuck.” At least this makes compelling TV as the crew doesn't even move to help him.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he races off towards the sides of the place, looking around the building for you, hoping that you're waiting outside. But hopefully not with the freezing cold nipping at his cheeks. To his dismay and increasing worry, he only finds unfamiliar faces.

His hands reach to the back of his neck, anxiety crawling up his spine. Patting his pockets, he feels for his phone until he realizes that he left it inside the van. Leaves crunches underfoot as he makes his way towards it, grumbling, shoulders hunched with a whole film crew following behind.

“Wait!” The bouncer's gruff voice calls him back. “Did your friend have a camera guy with her too?”

Hobie immediately runs to him. “You've seen her?”

“Yeah, she left an hour ago, man. Probably grabbed a cab or walked.”

“Walked?” He says, eyes widening. The first words flying over his head. “Which direction?”

“I don't fucking know, I closed the door behind her.”

“You—” Hobie points accusingly at the man but reins his frustration in, pinching the bridge of his nose. Instead of cursing the guy out after helping him, he returns back to the van with his brows furrowed deeply.

The crew doesn't look worried for you, not even a bit. Hobie knows that you have at least two people with you since the documentary crew split up, but he can't help but be concerned when he's the one who invited you and left you behind. You probably think of him as a bad friend.

“You're welcome!” The bouncer shakes his head, pushing a guy away from him when they try to sneak past him.

He fishes for his phone, dialing MJ’s number. The ringing sound has him clenching his teeth as he drives away.

—

It took a while to get coherent words from MJ as he tries to decipher the address she's giving on the phone. If the loud music booming from his speakers were any indication, the party's just getting started. Hobie doesn't care enough to listen to their drunken chanting of his name when he’s out here looking for you. He's thinking about giving them a wakeup call and telling them that they left you at the bar all alone. Especially to your roommate. But he has to find you safe and sound first.

“What if she's at the hospital?” The cameraman asks him, lenses roaming around the sticker filled van.

“You're not helpin’, Jericho.” Hobie huffs, not an ounce of humour in his tone.

“I'm just saying that she has two people with her, she's probably fine—”

“Shut it, we're ‘ere.” He parks the car right in front of the red bricked flat. The place is a classic house that was turned into an apartment sometime in the early 2000s. He can tell that it has three floors for each tenant and by how there's three mailboxes by the main door.

Hobie doesn't waste time in bracing the cold again to check on you. The camera follows behind, red light blinking as he resists the urge to punch its lights out.

Climbing the steps, he looks for the doorbell with yours or MJ’s name on it. Weirdly enough, he doesn't see either one. Jericho, the camera man taps his shoulder, using the camera to point towards the basement where stairs lead down to the side of the house.

He glances at the man then over to the steps as he grumbles a thanks. Making quick work of the stairs by climbing down two steps at the time, Jericho hurries along to catch up to him.

Hobie pauses in front of the window, chest heaving from the exercise and eyes staring through the glass. The lenses follow his line of sight, seeing his co-worker, Harry, sitting comfortably in the small sofa with you appearing from the side with a smile to hand him a steaming mug.

Hobie sighs in relief when he sees you, but with Harry in your flat, in your living room no less, has him turning around and climbing up the stairs.

The camera tries to follow him, but Hobie stops on the last step, back turned away from the camera. For a moment, he stands there, staying still.

With a clench of his fists, he runs back down to the landing, knocking on your door.

The camera captures Hobie's clenched jaw, and your surprised expression when you heard the sharp knock. You tell Harry to wait, and he smiles softly at you as you leave. Your footsteps hurry towards the door, cracking it open to see Hobie's strained smile.

“Hobie—! How— Hi?” You glance at the cameraman next to him, filming you two and not giving you two some privacy.

“Hi.” Hobie could only say as Harry leans on the armrest to look at who's at the door. He gives Harry an acknowledging nod, curt enough to be polite, not friendly though as his lips are stretched into a line as he stares coldly. “I went back to pick you up.”

“Oh.” You play with the string of your hoodie, “You guys kind of left so I–I just walked home. Harry saw me and drove me home though, so that's…good.”

Hobie winces, face deeply apologetic. “Fuck, ‘m sorry, everyone else were drinkin’ and they wanted to leave and I couldn't just let them drive off.” His eyes drift down to your fluffy indoor shoes, and he realises that it's the first time that he has seen you in comfy clothes, looking more relaxed unlike your office outfits and the borrowed clothing. You looked more relaxed with Harry.

“I understand, Hobie, I—” you glance behind you at Harry, who looks away immediately, sipping casually at his drink. “Can you move away for a bit?” You ask the cameraman. To your surprise, he actually walks up the stairs and gives you space. After a few moments, you gaze at Hobie as he looks like he's about to kneel down for your forgiveness. You go outside completely, shutting the door behind you. With an inhale, you reassure him. “It's really okay, Hobie, I took a long time in the bathroom—”

“It's not,” he curses himself for stopping you mid sentence. “Shit, sorry. It's jus’ it's not alright, we did leave you.”

Your eyes glissens in the moonlight that bounces off the wet pavement. “You did, and it— to be honest, it really hurt, Hobie.” You finally confess, unbeknownst to you, the mic picks up your broken tone, every word of it. “I thought you really wanted me there.” Jericho can practically hear your shattered heart from where he stands.

“I did.” He tries to reach for you but retracts his hand away. “I do, and I left a message to the bartender to tell you that I'll be back for you. I didn't mean to fuckin' leave you out there alone, love.”

You chuckle without humour. “The guy didn't say anything to me when I asked about you.”

“Fuck.” He rubs a hand over his tired face. “He must've forgotten. ‘m really sorry. I called a hundred bloody times. You didn't answer— and I don't blame you.”

“My phone ran out of battery, I'm sorry.” Hobie shakes his head subtly at your unnecessary apology. You give him a tight smile. “Well, apology accepted.”

Hobie sighs, brows knitted together, frown deeply set in place. He says your name softly, hand cupping at your wringing hands. “Are we really alright?”

You nod, staring at your joined hands before meeting with his eyes. “Yeah, don't worry, shit happens and you gotta have your priorities straight.”

You're my priority too. “Alright, good.” Is all he could say. “The next one I invite you to would be more fun, I promise.”

“Yeah,” you smile, exhaling out a cloud of smoke. “Sure, maybe.” Moving away your hand from his own, you clear your throat. “They're probably looking for you. Take care of MJ for me, she gets very kicky when she's drunk.”

Hobie chuckles, a genuine one. “Thanks for the tip. Will you be alright? Where's the camera crew?”

“I'll be fine, don't worry about me.” You nudge his bicep. “And they left a while ago, said something about us being too boring so they went out to go find you.”

“Harry?” He gestures towards the door with his chin.

“He's just about to leave, he saw my broken record player and asked to fix it for me. Don't be jealous.” You joke to help lighten the tension, hugging yourself as the cold goes through your hoodie.

“I'll try not to be.”

Heat rises to your cheeks despite the cold and your lingering sadness. “It's going to be hard, but I know you'll rise above the green monster.”

“That's true, but I can't promise to wait outside just to check if he leaves with a body bag in the shape of you.”

You finally laugh, shaking your head at him. “A charmer *and a stalker, this is why you're my favourite co-worker.” You reach to poke him jokingly, but you put your hand away to his dismay. “Seriously, I'll be fine, I have pepper spray in my pocket to ease your worries.”

“Right.” He sees you grasp the doorknob, a clear sign that you're done with the conversation. “Aim for the eyes, yeah?”

“Taking note of that. Thanks.” With your laughter lingering, he stands there in front of your door a bit too long before he remembers to walk away.

Hobie is greeted by Jericho waiting for him near the top of steps. Great, the disaster of a night you two had are recorded in the annals of history.

—

“Here's mine,” Harry hands you back your phone after he typed his number in your contacts. “If you need any help, work related or not, don't hesitate to call me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say with a shy smile as you hand his own phone back. “Thank you again, Harry. I'll pay you back for the gas—”

“Don't, I'm just glad I ran into you. I would hate for you to turn into an icicle in the downpour.” He glances at his screen and laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sorry, the snowflake emoji right next to your name got me.”

“I have a sense of humour too, y’know.” You hug the coat tighter around you as small raindrops continue to drizzle down on you and Harry, painting him in fallen dew drops while the streetlight above shines down on the two of you. The camera crew in the corner under the tree ruins it though.

“It’s not a competition but mine’s better.” He gestures towards your phone with his chin, green eyes alight.

You take a peek at your contacts, finding that he has named himself ‘free uber’ in it. With a giggle, the sound echoing in the night, you look back at the smiling Harry. “Yeah, you're right, yours is better. I'll change it to your name by the way.”

He groans dramatically as he walks backwards towards his car. “C’mon, that took a lot of time for me to think of.” Unlocking his car, he enters and waves at you after putting on his seatbelt. “I'll see you back at the office, ice princess.”

“Ice princess, really?”

“You survived the cold, so I say it fits you.” Grinning, he starts the car.

You pat your head to wipe away the dew. Skin aflame despite the weather, you tuck the coat tighter around yourself. “Take care, Harry.”

“You too. Stay warm.” With one last smile, he rolls the windows up and drives away.

The smoke from the car's exhaust hasn't fully dispersed when the cameraman is already up in your face, asking for an interview.

You sigh, “fine, I'll do this quick. Today was… complicated. I was uncomfortable, then comfortable. Then left behind and then perfectly fine right after.” The blinking red light still flashes as the man behind the camera isn't satisfied by your answer. “I'm fine.” You say with emphasis. “Don't you have a family to go home to?”

Huffing, smoke puffing out of your cold lips, you walk back towards your apartment while you walk carefully on wet pavement. Leaving the camera and the crew behind as you shut the door closed. And yet, the microphone still picks up the quiet sobs from behind the old door.

—

You stare at the scruff of your work shoes, the scratches glaring right at you. Your leather heels are a direct contrast to the white tiled floors that try to mimic expensive marble. But the indents and subtle square lines around it indicates that it's just regular tiles. The office lobby is quiet this early in the morning, the security guard munches on his breakfast burrito as he watches the news on his tiny TV. And the place hums with electricity, lights too bright against your exhausted eyes.

MJ came home in the early morning of Sunday, you woke up to the smell of sick and the sound of her hurling her entire stomach down the toilet’s drain. You couldn't just leave her be when you're afraid that she'd choke on her own vomit. So you stayed up when you should be sleeping in just to watch over her. When afternoon came, you thought that you finally had time to relax or do some chores, but with a very hangover MJ clinging to you as apologies spilled from her lips— you had to stay to comfort and reassure her. Of course that came with making food, mixing in the regular concoction for a hangover cure, and everything else that she needed. If it was anyone else, you wouldn't do that much, but MJ has been your friend since middle school. And without her you'd literally be homeless, she's a good friend. But sometimes you just wish your only problem with her was pushing her away from her toxic ex like back in highschool.

Your exhaustion can be read on your face, and as the camera crew arrives, and their bright lights hit your tired skin, you feel more fatigued than ever. Sighing, you don't even acknowledge them while you wait for the elevator doors to open. Your index presses the button three more times impatiently. The annoying twinkling elevator music seems a lot better compared to the glare of the camera lenses.

“Hey, morning, ice princess.” Harry comes into view, giving you a brief smile while he holds onto a cup of coffee. “You okay?”

“Morning.” You almost scoffed at his well meaning question. “Yeah, couldn't sleep last night.”

“That sucks,” he says as he sips his drink. You stare heavily at the cup, wishing you should've stopped by the coffee shop near your place before heading to work instead of braving the sleepiness. “I should've gotten you one.” Harry notices, winching at his own actions. “I'll get you a cup next time. A cappuccino with an extra shot, right?”

Your heavy eyes widen briefly, the lights making your expression more prominent. “You don't have to, really— wait, you know my coffee order?”

He chuckles, cheeks a bit flushed. “Of course, we're desk neighbours, and you always order the same thing whenever Miles asks for our coffee order.”

“I'll keep it down next time then.” You chuckle.

“Not what I meant, but you do type a little too loudly.” He nudges you playfully.

“Type louder you say? Sure, Harry.” Your joke earns a laugh from the brunette.

The elevator pings and the doors open to reveal the empty space. The walls are covered in reflective glass, it seems that you can't hide from your exhausted face as you step inside. Not even concealer or a blush could hide it.

You're joined by Harry and the documentary crew. Harry stands beside you, back straight as he glances at you for a second. You miss the look he has, but the cameras don't as they stand in front of the doors, facing you and Harry in a perfect frame.

“Oi, hold the door!” The familiar voice has your sleep fogged mind waking up that no amount of coffee could.

Shit. You look like shit and you're staring a bit too much at Hobie, whose lithe hand is holding onto the door. He's back in his office appropriate attire, still no tie though but at least it's a button up that's perfectly ironed that Miguel himself wouldn't even bat an eye at.

He mirrors your expression as he pants by the doorway. The black coat he has on fits him well, really well as it cinches his waist, and the long length of it seems to make him look taller even though he doesn't need the added height.

The cameras has the full view of you, Hobie and a very curious Harry, who looks at you then over to Hobie.

“Good morning, Hobie.” You say, slightly in a higher pitch than you thought it would be.

“Mornin’, love.” His expression softens, but returns to the nonchalant and unbothered look when he glances at Harry beside you. “Osborne.”

The lenses shift from Hobie's strained greeting to Harry's tight lipped smile.

“Brown.” Harry says with a flat tone. “Your shoes are untied.”

Hobie doesn't even glance down at his feet to check. You do, and it is indeed untied. “It’s called fashion, Osborne.” He replies with the same tone as he pushes through the crew to stand on your other side. The cold still clings to his shoulders, and his lashes flutter as he gazes at you gently. “Have you had breakfast yet, love?”

You shake your head while you feel both of their warmths encapsulate you. Cageing you in between them. “Not yet, but I'll probably just grab something from the vending machine.”

“The sandwiches there are shite.” Hobie nudges you as the doors close. “How about I order us a bagel from the deli across the street?”

“I can get us a coffee.” Harry adds, or interrupts more like. Hobie raises his chin, chest puffing up as they stare at each other while you're acting like their barrier. “How's that sound?”

“Or that tea you fancy.” Hobie tilts his head, eyes boring into Harry's skull.

You stare at Hobie then over to Harry, you feel like a referee. You might not be good at reading cues, or feeling the vibes of the room, but you're not an idiot, there's definitely something going on with the two. Looking into the camera, you see yourself in the lenses as you clutch your work bag tightly, and you see the crew's subtle grins behind their equipment.

You have to answer them or else they'll start offering you more food and drinks.

“Thanks, but I have a lot of work to do today, so maybe next time.” It's best that you decline both, you don't want to start something that you have no idea will end. Especially if your job could be on the line. And yet, they still stare at you, waiting on who's the lucky winner. “For— for both offers. I had a big dinner last night, and coffee makes me jittery this early in the morning.” A big fat lie on both statements.

“Right, next time then.” Harry takes it in stride, smiling softly at you.

“Of course, love, you know where to find me.” Hobie does too as he tugs gently at your coat sleeve. You give them both a friendly smile, tamping down any embers that might be setting fire under them.

The three of you realize that neither of you have pressed a button.

The crew's producer takes initiative, and the three of you give her an apologetic yet embarrassed smile.

The elevator shifts slightly before it starts to move. The whirr of the cables cut through the thick tension in the air.

“So, what did you do this weekend?” Harry asks, seemingly a taunt at Hobie that you can't confirm.

“Nothing much, just did some laundry. Boring stuff.” You answer, staring at the numbers atop the doors as it goes further up. You were supposed to do laundry, but they wouldn't want you to talk about how you had to scrub the bathroom clean of vomit.

“Well, I had a show with my band. Meal prepped for this week and visited a friend.” Hobie glances at you briefly with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry's jaw clenches at Hobie's reply. “I thought you were askin’ me too.”

“Oh, I was.” Harry smiles at Hobie but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. “I also visited a friend, picked her up from walking in the cold.” Your face falls at the memory, you didn't expect to be used as something to taunt and provoke someone, but here you are— shoulders slumped and frowning deeply. “Thanks for the hot chocolate by the way—”

The doors ding open and you don't waste time in leaving the elevator with a downturned head as you look at the scruff of your shoes once again.

“Shit.” They both say, and again, the cameras capture their faces as the door closes on them, not giving the two enough time to get off.

The camera gets a glimpse of them trying to get out before the doors shut.

—

You stare at your computer screen like you want it to spontaneously combust right in front of you. The sounds of keyboards clacking and the whirr of the building’s vents has you more than irked, especially at what transpired this morning. The bullpen is quiet, the air smelling of carpet conditioner and printer ink that someone spilled a few hours ago. Your nose itches, tinnitus acting up as you heavily gaze on the excel and blinking lines.

The muscles in your fingers are stiff against the keyboard, face unreadable while the stress of work and you being caught in the crossfire has your eye twitching against the harsh lights. You have no idea what's going on between the two, but you know what happened in the elevator was unnecessarily uneasy for you. Awkward is an understatement.

Lunch has passed by, and you stayed at your desk throughout it without a single glance at the cafeteria in your peripheral. Opting to eat a pack of biscuit that was just intended for a snack. Your stomach keeps reminding you that you have missed breakfast and lunch. You can't wait for the day to be over.

The sound of the familiar clanking wheels of the mailcart doesn't even have you lifting up your head from your report. To the disappointment of Hobie and to Harry's glaring satisfaction.

You've seen Hobie and Gwen doing their rounds with the mailcart, Hobie gave you his usual smile when he handed you your package for the day. And Gwen came to apologize for what happened last weekend even though it was unnecessary. They were both met with your customer service smile and tone of voice. Partly because you're still frustrated at what happened, and because of the elevator when the two men used you as a way to get back at each other— for whatever they're dealing with. Whatever it is, you've decided to stay away from it. Or until you can't ignore Harry's guilty eyes, Hobie's strained face, and the trio's puppy dog expression whenever they pass by your side of the bullpen.

You really don't mean to be an ass to them, but the ridiculous amount of work you have and your tiredness, coupled up with your grumbling stomach, anyone would be behaving like you.

To you it's literal torture to ignore your friends the whole day, for the documentary crew— it makes good TV.

The sound of crinkling paper and the scent of spice has you looking up from your computer. You see the green wrapping of a sub teetering dangerously on top of the divider. The packaging almost bursting at the seams from the hearty sandwich.

Harry's green eyes peek over the wall, hand inching towards the sandwich as he places a bundle of napkins on it like he's about to steal a diamond from its laser protected case.

“Don't mind me, just delivering you lunch.”

“Harry,” you can't help the smile appearing on your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I hope you like cold cuts and cheese.” His voice is slightly muffled by the divider, eyebrows raised as his eyes smile. You blink at him, head tilted. “I noticed that you haven't had lunch yet, so I bought you a sandwich.”

“Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you.” You reach for the sub, standing up from the chair for the first time in hours. It has the shape of you indented on the plush seat. You meet with Harry's eyes, lighting up as he gazes at you. “How much do I owe you, Harry?”

His head leans back, like he's taken aback by your statement. “One penny.”

“I have to pay you back, y’know.” You glance to your left, finding that the camera has you and Harry in its sights.

“Says who?”

“I do.” You chuckle at his feigned innocence.

“How about you pay it forward next time? Just not to me.” His index taps at the top of the divider as he smiles sweetly at you.

“Fine, but I still owe you for the gas—”

“Sorry, busy busy busy.” He sits back down, hands dramatically typing randomly on his keyboard.

“Harry.”

He picks up the silent phone, “Hello, Harry Osborne here, yes, absolutely.” His eyes look up to you with a subtle smile, placing his index right on his lips, shushing you, and then pointing at the phone's receiver.

With a roll of your eyes, you return to your seat, hands immediately unwrapping the sandwich.

The camera zooms out and moves over to the doorway where Hobie stands there with a brown paper bag while looking in the direction of your desk.

His eyes flick over to the camera, jaw tightening and eyes hardening as he stares right into the lenses. “What of it?” Tossing the paper bag into the trash, he walks away only to immediately double back and fish it out and grumble back towards the mailroom with a huff.

—

The clock finally ticks to five, and you release a sigh of relief the second you send the very last report you needed to finish for today. Without sparing another second wallowing in your seat, you stand up and collect your things.

“Hey, Y/N.” Pavitr’s voice makes you look towards the side, where the trio and an unfamiliar face joins them. His hands are on top of Gwen and Miles’ shoulders, pushing them towards you. “We just want to say sorry about what happened.”

“That's okay, Pav, I already forgave them. And again, it's not really their fault.” You chuckle nervously at the small crowd gathering around you.

“But I haven't.” He says sternly, pushing Gwen and Miles towards you further. “Apologize to Y/N.”

“I already did, Pav—” Gwen squeaks out but Pav nudges her. “Okay, I'm sorry. I feel like shit that the band left you. And since the band isn't here, we're apologizing for them. That was a shitty thing to do.”

“It's really okay—”

“I'm sorry too.” Miles interrupts, frowning deeply, brows knitted together out of guilt. He looks like he's going through it, and probably doesn't need the coaxing from Pavitr. “I heard you had to walk out in the rain.”

“Apology accepted, for both of you— you really don't need to. Hobie and I already talked about it and it's fine.” You hold your hands out to them in a way to calm, and Gwen guiltily takes your hand briefly. “I'm fine, you guys weren't even there.”

“Still, we feel guilty and responsible for it.” Miles mumbles out and Gwen nods along. “If we were there, we would have reminded them.”

“It doesn't seem fine.” The unfamiliar co-worker adds beside Pav. “I'd be livid. I'm Gayatri by the way.” She holds out her hand in greeting, smiling gently at you.

“Hi, it's nice to finally meet you.” You take her hand and shake it, mirroring her smile. “I've heard a lot about you through Pavitr.”

“And I heard a lot about you, through Hobie mostly.” She shrugs with a chuckle. Pav gives her a look, and she takes his hands off of the two and intertwines her fingers with his own. “Anyway, you're cool, because obviously I'd be livid.”

“Oh, I was, for a bit. But it's really alright, alcohol was the real culprit.” It's a half truth, you're still bummed about it, but you'll get over it eventually. For now, you just want to lie down on your bed and sleep.

As you gather your things, the interns still seem to doubt you. You're about to put on your coat but Miguel's voice rings out into the bullpen.

“Meeting now.”

“Now?” Lyla’s head pops out from the doorway, already halfway out of the office.

“Yes, now.” With every footstep from Miguel, the almost hidden groans of your co-workers echo around the office. Including yours.

“I have homework, man.” Miles stomps over to the conference room, while Gwen verbally protests by loudly putting on her backpack with all the charms clinking on it.

“This is why I got a B in advanced chem.” Pavitr grumbles but follows the two, he looks over to his girlfriend when she doesn't follow. With a simple look, he continues to cross the distance and waits by the doorway for Gayatri as she pokes at your bag.

“Are you really okay?” Her eyes are soft, you can feel that her concern for you is genuine. She has that air around you that helps you feel at ease with just a look. “I was going off in our group chat after I learned about it. Ned, Yuri and James have a week until they apologize to you or I'll give them shit during band practice.”

“Yeah, I'm over it.” A half lie. “And they barely know me, it's really okay.” Another lie. It wouldn't hurt for them to apologize. Is it mean for you to want them to apologize?

“Yeah, that's why they need to say sorry because they barely know you.” You open your mouth but she immediately shuts you down. “And don't say that it's fine, or okay. That was horrible, you were alone at a shady bar during happy hour. If the cameras weren't there… I don't know, I think you and your roommate need to talk. I wouldn't forget a friend like that, even if booze was involved.”

You blink at her, nodding in agreement. “I think you're right. I can see why Pav loves you so much. You lay it on thick.”

She pats your arm, chuckling. “I'm always right.”

“I’ll talk to her when I get home.” You sigh, fists tightening as you enter the conference room.

“Well, if you need anything, I'm always in accounting.” She taps your back as Pavitr wraps an arm over her shoulder, letting you inside first as they follow behind.

“She likes to take strays, don't mind her.” Hobie suddenly sidles up to you, hands tucked inside his pockets as he whispers to you. “I blame the saviour complex.”

Gayatri heard his comment as she whacks him over the head. “Shut it, Hobie.”

He holds onto the back of his head, chuckling while Pavitr laughs along. “‘m jus’ sayin'”

“Are you calling me a stray, Hobie?” Your words make him falter, stammering out but no coherent words come out. It was a joke on your end, but you can't hide the amusement from his reaction.

“Now you've done it.” Pav smacks Hobie's chest while Gayatri pulls you away from the punk and towards the seats in the back of the room.

“I didn't mean it that way.” Hobie's voice is a tone higher, wincing at his previous words. “I jus’ meant—”

A loud clearing of throat takes his attention, and Miguel sends him a glare as a warning. Hobie huffs, surprisingly not saying any rhetoric as he sits down wordlessly beside you with the rest of the interns on your right.

“It was a joke by the way.” You whisper to him, side glancing at Miguel, who stands at the helm of the room.

Hobie pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to hide his smile. “You got me there, love.”

“Seriously, we're okay, Hobie. I hate that we're being awkward now.”

“I missed you at lunch today. I thought, y’know...” He shrugs, whispering back to you as more people filter inside the room. The cameras stand by the sidelines, bright lights and lenses roaming around the different faces. You're just glad you're not the only one they're focusing on right now.

“I had a ton of work so I couldn't join the lunch club today. Sorry for making you feel horrid.” You say genuinely, hoping to put a close on what happened last weekend. As much as you disdain what happened, you can't lose a friend because of it.

Hobie turns his head towards you, smiling fondly as his hand pat the back of yours. “You can never make me feel horrid, love.”

Your heart leaps in your chest from the close proximity. “We'll s–see. I mean, we're still new friends.”

“I hope we never get to see it then. You might break my tiny heart.”

“Your heart is far from tiny, Hobie Brown.” You nudge him with your shoulder, smiling as you return your attention towards Miguel, who's looking more tired than ever. “So far I've seen nothing but kindness from you.”

“Fuckin' hell.” He mutters under his breath, eyes refraining from looking into your own. “Go easy on me.” He holds onto his chest, head thumping on the wall.

You chuckle at his dramatics. “What does that mean?”

Before he could answer, Harry slides on the seat in front of you. “Hey, princess.” He says with the same demeanor he sported when he picked you from the curb.

“Hi, Harry.” You smile back at him as he side glances Hobie. He turns his back from you, still smiling.

“Princess?” Hobie says with an irked and disgusted tone. The interns turn to him, all sharing the same look that you're not privy to.

“It’s better than newbie, I guess. It's just a nickname.”

“...Sure.” Hobie eyes the lunch club, then over to the cameras with the same uneasy look.

“So, is everyone finally here?” Miguel gruffly days from the front. “I know you all want to go home, but today has been too busy to sneak this meeting in. So Jess and I will make this quick—”

“Holy shit, you two are dating!” Peter says from his seat, gasping in surprise.

“What, ew, no. I'm married, Parker.” Jessica shows her ring, rolling her eyes at Peter. “You knew that. You were at my wedding, idiot.”

“Right, I forgot.” He chuckles, scratching his head. Meanwhile Miguel is mouthing the word ‘ew’ with a questioning look.

“Anyway, Jess is here to talk to you about the company holiday party.” Miguel side steps and gives Jessica the floor.

“As always, I'm the unfortunate soul who has to organise it.” She sighs, “For the new employees, we always have a little party before the holiday break starts. There's gonna be a secret Santa, we'll pick names tomorrow since it's already late. And it'll be a potluck so I'll be assigning what you need to bring to prevent people from just bringing drinks.” She looks towards Lyla.

“That was one time! And everyone was well hydrated!” Lyla defends herself while Peter shakes his head. Jess calls out names and what they would bring.

Hobie snickers next to you, and you whisper to him. “What did you bring that year?”

“Punch.” He says with a chuckle. “There was a line in the loo the whole bloody time.”

“That's a terrible party.”

“We were all starvin’, in the end Miguel got us a dozen pizzas or else people would riot. Which ‘m not opposed to.”

“I would join in, honestly.” You tap his hand, and he returns the gesture with another tap on your pinky. Jessica calls your name, and you almost jump in your seat. “Y–Yes?”

“Do you mind bringing in some holiday cookies or cupcakes?”

“Oh, I don't mind. Are sugar cookies alright?” You unconsciously play with the frayed edges of your sleeve.

“Fine by me, just no nuts, Miguel's allergic.” Jessica continues to call out names and food while reading her list. “Hobie and Harry— H and H, can you two bring some drinks in?”

The two glance at each other pointedly. “Sure.” They both say with clenched teeth.

“Good,” she nods and closes her notes. “Oh and Y/N,” your heart stops. “Can you help me with the decorations on the day?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod enthusiastically, relieved that it wasn't a reprimand, making Hobie beam at you.

Unbeknownst to you, Gwen looks behind the rest and over to you just to give Hobie a teasing gaze. The cameras capture it all perfectly while Jess gives the floor back to Miguel.

“Right, thanks Jessica.” Everyone begins to stand up even before Miguel could even end his sentence. “We're not done yet,” he points at Hobie, and at first you thought he was pointing at you, making your eyes widen. “You wanted to say something quick, Hobie?”

The room groans in disappointment as they sit back down with a resounding squeak from the chairs.

“Right, the lot of you want to go home, I'll make this quick.” He stays standing up, casually speaking to the whole room with nonchalance that passes off as confidence. “There's a few of you ‘ere who haven't signed yet with the union. As your rep, I have to make sure that you all know that we exist.” His eyes glance over to Lyla, and everyone follows his line of sight.

“Don't look at me! I'm a union girlie but the big man says I can't explicitly say it.” She accusingly points at Miguel, and everyone turns to him.

“Not me, the other big man.” He sighs tiredly.

The scene shifts to him giving an interview near the elevators. “I’m vice president of the union. Everyone keeps forgetting that.” He says with disdain.

The clip comes back to the conference room in the present with everyone listening in on Hobie.

“—the new hires are ‘encouraged’—” he almost rolls his eyes at the company friendly word. “to join the union so you have protection jus’ like the rest of us, yeah?” Hobie clasps your shoulder, smiling at you. “That's it, the lot of you go home.” With Hobie's closing remarks, people leave their seats without another grumble.

“Wait— I haven't said anything yet—!” Miguel tries to say something but everyone leaves the conference room.

Hobie turns to you, hand cupping your elbow as he helps you off your seat. “That includes you, princess.” He says the nickname with a slight scoff.

“I didn't know you're our union rep.” You say as he guides you out of the room. “That's really cool.”

“I did it for the birds.” He walks backwards towards the mailroom to probably grab his things and to quickly rejoin you in the elevator.

“The birds?” You chortle out

Hobie bites his lip, hands placed inside his pockets as his back hits the wall. “The ladies.”

“Ah.” You nod with an amused smile. “Of course, that usually makes us all weak in the knees.”

“Right?” With a smirk, he turns back around to prevent himself from smacking to another wall or worse, a window.

“I thought it'll never end.” Harry appears next to you, already in his coat and messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, thanks for the sandwich again.” You smile as he shrugs.

“Just like I said, no problem. You need to remember to eat sometimes or you'll get sick. We can't afford to lose our best quality assurance agent, hm?” He nudges you, palm lingering on your bicep for a second longer.

“I'll remember next time, don't worry.” You give him a wobbly smile.

“D’you need a ride home?” He glances at the elevators. “I heard it's gonna rain again.”

You shake your head with a polite smile. “No need, I'll be fine. Thank you though.”

“Sure, take care.” With a grin and another pat on your shoulder, he leaves.

“Y–You too!” You call back, and he turns to you, giving you a two finger salute while walking away.

“Boo!”

“Fuck!” You shriek, hand on your chest while Lyla snorts next to you.

“Sorry, I didn't know you were such a scaredy cat.” She tilts her head playfully. “Anyway, how are you doing so far?”

“Uh, good.” You swallow down your thumping heart. “Workload is tough but I'll survive.”

She hums, nodding along. “Yeah, good. Also what do I hear about you and…” she pauses, looking around the near empty office, and you think she's gonna say Hobie as you bite down your anxiety. “Harry.”

“H–Harry?”

“Yeah, I heard from the interns that he gave you a ride home from the bar? Sounds serious and definitely something that the HR should know.” Lyla fist bumps your shoulder awkwardly. “Y’know, just in case there's a conflict with your relationship with him and work.” You try to get a word in but she continues. “I'm not against it, oh no not me, and he's kinda cute so good on you. I'm just warning you that you two need to tell me and sign a little something, something. Nothing major, just a contract telling us that your relationship won't hinder you from doing work and we're not liable for any heartbreak that could occur—” she grabs your elbow like she's already reassuring you for the inevitable. “— not like there would be any heartbreak in your future with him.” She chuckles a bit nervously.

“We're not together.” You say matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” she blows a raspberry. “Right, well, mystery solved!” With a pat on your arm, she leaves you be. “Have a good night!”

You huff, going back to your desk to retrieve your things and go towards the elevators only to find Hobie waiting there for you.

“Thought I lost you to the ghost janitor.” He smiles, leaning against the doors as he smirks at you.

You sigh while your hands grow clammy. “I'm not scared of that anymore— watch out!”

The elevator doors suddenly open and he falls right through it with a groan.

“‘m alright!”

—

A baseball hat is shoved right on top of your keyboard while you work on a spreadsheet. Your watery eyes gawk at the slips of paper all folded inside the hat. The scene reminds you of secret santas and white elephant parties back in school.

“It's not gonna pick itself.” Jessica leans against the table, neat brows raised up in question.

“Right, sorry, you just caught me off guard.” You chuckle nervously, intimidated by your boss as you dip your hand inside the hat. Feeling for a random one, you fish it out of the hat. You don't read it just yet.

“I see you're working hard.” She smiles, nodding at your screen. “Good job on the Metropolis report by the way, keep it up.”

A sigh escapes you as your eyes twinkle at Jessica. “T–Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“‘Course, just don't work too hard, you're making the rest of us look bad.” With a chuckle and a shake of the hat, she leaves. “Oh, wait.” Turning back around, you pause from unfolding the slip of paper. “Don't forget, we have a maximum price for the gift.”

“Okay, thanks for the reminder.” You awkwardly wave her off as her heels clack on the floor.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, eyes peeking over the cubicle dividers as he knocks rhymically, one that you're familiar with but can't quite put your finger on. “Who’d you get?”

“I don't think we're supposed to say.” You whisper back with an amused smile.

“I didn't take you for a rule follower, princess.” He smiles, now standing up to look at you fully. “Please?”

You shake your head with a quiet chuckle. “No.”

He sucks in his teeth, but his smile stays. “You're no fun.”

“I haven't even read it yet.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you unfurl the paper, expression suddenly falling flat as you read the big printed letters— Hobie Brown. “Oh.”

“Is that ‘oh’ good or not? Shit, did you get Miguel?”

His voice falls on deaf ears as you feel your nerves rushing in, blood filling your ears like you're about to skydive. It seems that Hobie has had that effect on you recently. With an exhale, you pocket the slip of paper inside your blazer pocket.

“I think it's the former.” You smile up at Harry, looking curiously at you. “I'm not gonna tell you my secret Santa, Harry.”

He dramatically deflates to show you his disappointment as you grin at him. “Fine, well I'm not going to show you mine.”

“I don't even want to know yours.”

“Ouch, okay, mean.” He holds his chest like he's been shot through the heart. “Oh, yeah, good on you with that report. You even got Jessica's approval.” With a thumbs up, he slowly slinks back to his seat.

“Thanks, Harry.” Your words waver as you take the paper from your pocket and read it again as if you hallucinated the name on it.

The familiar whirr of the camera lenses enter your space, zooming in on the print. You immediately turn towards it, glaring and frowning. “Really? Even that?”

Jericho the cameraman nods, giving you an apologetic tight lipped smile. You're starting to really hate cameras right now. If it didn't cost you your job, you would've yanked the microphone in your shirt already. But you've got a bigger problem— what to give Hobie that he will surely like.

[enhypia]

SN ; bestfriends

bestfriends answers questions with the choice of drinking instead of answering

pairings: kim sunoo x gn!reader

genre: fluff

words: roughly 1.3k

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

~guides and warnings~

italics - reader speaking

bold - sunoo speaking

[enclosed] - interviewer speaking

italicized bold- both reader and sunoo speaking

[enclosed bold or italics] - question (depends on who's speaking)

heavily inspired by: rec.create lie detector games, cut truth or drink

warning: contains and mentions of !!! drinking and swearing

i don't promote underage drinking, save your livers

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

hi i'm sunoo!

and i'm (y/n)

and we're bestfriends~

[okay, you guys were invited here today as bestfriends for a fun little drinking game, you guys aware of that right?]

yup!

we'll probably answer everything honestly

but we're still drinking

*they high-five

[how long have you guys been bestfriends?]

for about 5 years now?

6 years if you include our dead period

*sunoo laughs

[dead period?]

it was a time where our label as 'bestfriends' was basically dead

it was a year where we weren't in the same class and both of us found new friend groups

we still talked but i could count all the times we hang out that year in one hand

honestly we still considered each other bestfriends, we just didn't look and feel like bestfriends

then the 'dead period' joke was born

[did you guys fight during the 'dead period'?]

there was just tension at first but then we talked about it

like the mature adults we are

*sunoo rolls his eyes

it was a period of growth too, so we didn't fight, we just understood each other better

yeah if it happened years earlier, we would probably hate each other right now

[how did you guys become bestfriends?]

*both burst out laughing

i'm not sure if we can say that on video

no we're not cowards, we can say it

*they have the classic bestfriend eye conversation

we shared the same dislike towards a person

*(y/n) laughs

dislike is putting it mildly

shhh *sunoo does the shush gesture

so that was the main reason and then we just got to know each other better and here we are

still hating on the same people

shhh *this time (y/n) shushes sunoo

don't expose us too much

*both laugh

[how about we officially start the q&a between you guys?]

*both nod and played rock paper and scissors to determine who gets to ask first, (y/n) wins

let's see *(y/n) picks up a card and laughs after reading it

[if your significant other and i don't like each other, will you be on my side?]

you better choose carefully kim sunoo

first of all,

*sunoo drinks

okay, friendship over i guess 😒

let me finish, gosh 🙄

first of all, why would i even date them in the first place if you didn't like them?

very true, but still, you know i won't hold you back from a person just because i don't like them

yeah but i'd be on your side if ever that happens

*(y/n) grins

*sunoo picks up a card to read

i already know the answer to this one

[if i got arrested and needed 10M won, would you pay for it?]

HELL NO ?!?

*both burst out laughing

that's like 8,500 dollars? i could buy a car with that

i wouldn't bail you out too honestly

bestfriend who? idk them

*they take a shot for fun

[did you like me when you first met me?]

probably ?

i didn't like you when i first met you

who asked?

*they roll their eyes at each other

[why didn't you like him?]

because he was so bright and sunshine-y ?? and i'm always sus of nice people

they have bad history with fake nice people

but i eventually learned that he wasn't like that

awwww

his halo is held up by thorns

*sunoo's mouth drops in shock while (y/n) laughs at his reaction

*(y/n) pats sunoo's head as he pouts

it's okay i accept you for who you are

yah~ !

[have you ever considered to stop being friends with me?]

nope

*sunoo does a heart to (y/n)

you know too much about me

*sunoo is shocked again

i would never release anything you shared to me even if we stop being friends !!!

*he is pouting your honor, don't tease him

*(y/n) laughs at sunoo's cuteness

i know, i know, i'm just kidding, i'll stop now.

[is there something that i could change to be a better friend?]

*sunoo drinks as revenge

*(y/n) :OO

if you stopped teasing me 24/7 then maybe i'd think you're a better friend

yah! you act like you don't do the same to me

once he-

*sunoo cuts (y/n) off by clamping their mouth with his hand

let's drink to that bestie, cheers!

*he removes his hand from (y/n)'s mouth and basically forces them to drink with him

i told you, halo held up by horns

*sunoo grins widely as if he was innocent.

[would you slap me for 10M won?]

do i even have to answer that?

let's use the 10M won to travel

let's go to paris

and then i'd slap you as well so we both have 10M won

i like the way you think

*they high five and takes a shot together

[regardless of sexual orientation, will you ever date me?]

*awkward silence

aha ha haha

*both reach for a shot, they even clink their glasses together

*after, they just smiled at the camera

[if we're still single by 30, would you agree to marry me?]

man would we even reach 30?

that's what i was thinking

if we're both single, i might think about it

let's get married and enjoy the benefits from various marriage laws

what if we end up like in those crime documentaries where you get life insurance

then you kill the partner for the money

... .. .

no murder in this household please

*they burst out laughing

[question for both: what's something you want to say to each other?]

do i go first or?

yeah, you first

okay but don't look at me

*sunoo rolls his eyes but looks away anyways

we rarely talk about our friendship because once one starts, the other teases

*sunoo laughs while nodding his head in agreement

okay uhm, you know i would never say this on a normal day but i really am thankful that you gave me the chance to get to know you, despite my initial slight hostility towards you. thank you for being by my side no matter what. and even if we constantly clown the word "bestfriend" there's no one i'd really call my bestfriend other than you.

*sunoo smiles softly

your turn. *(y/n) looks away as well, purely because they will combust if sunoo looks at them with that soft loving look

just like you said, there's no one else i'd give the title of bestfriend other than you. thank you for giving me the chance as well and for trusting me. i'm not one to talk much about what's going on with my life but you're always there to make sure i don't pile it all up and explode. thank you for being my rock.

*both eyes are glassy

don't cry, if you cry, you'll pay for my food for a whole week

don't ruin the mood, (y/n)

*they both laugh, instantly lightening up the air around them

oh wait that was the last question

we still have alcohol left

can we take this home? *(y/n) holds up the bottle of alcohol

*the crew laughs

[we'd allow it, if you answer one more question}

okay! let's go~

[was there a time where you felt just the tiniest bit of butterflies because of each other?]

*sunoo and (y/n) look at each other, both holding in laughs

*they reach for their glasses and take a shot

and that's the end!

bye~ thanks for having us!

»————-　♡　————-«

bonus: youtube comments

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

a/n: for this one i wanted to keep the feelings for each other thing kind of open?? like the vagueness in those moments are up to you guys if you want to give it meaning or not. you guys are free to think if you want those feelings to be romantic or platonic.

also!!! this series is about to end omg :(( i can't believe we're down to one post before it ends aaak. thank you so much for all the love so far!! ni-ki's will be uploaded next! please look forward to it~

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XI — masterlist

concept: a collection of happenings. the slowest of slow burns. there will be many more parts. an interview is misinterpreted, leading to some awkwardness.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,8k

warnings: angst

author's note: i used the name "lily" in slight reference to lily james (no hate to her) but if you, as the reader, is named lily, feel free to use any other name as hers.

There was something to be said about LAX. Status was practically inconsequential in airports. Everyone was either jetlagged or trying to make their flight in time, and everyone had to wait in neatly organized lines. Sure, some moved faster than others, but it was nice to see that everyone was built the same when it came to airports.

You stood, patiently waiting in the collection area of the arrivals. As patiently as you could, practically bouncing on your heels in anticipation. You didn't know why you were there, really.

Well, you knew. You were there to surprise him.

They had wrapped filming the day before, and he had shot you a quick be home soon :) text last night. But you had never picked him up before, instead opting to stay in the comfort of the apartment with Dodger curled up beside you and a batch of "welcome home" cupcakes cooling, waiting to be iced. He'd find his way back by himself just fine every time, so why the sudden change?

Maybe it was the interview you had caught the night before.

It wasn't as if you'd actively sought it – your friend had sent you a link to it in the early morning hours, followed by a barrage of messages that had your nightstand practically quaking from the vibrations of your phone. Knowing she wouldn't let you be until you checked it out, you squinted to see the bright screen before lowering the brightness enough to let your eyes adjust. Cursing the persistence of your friend, you huffed out a sigh and tapped on the link she had highlighted in numerous exclamation points and a slew of unintelligible yet highly suggestive emojis.

It was him. Chris. The flutter your heart gave at the sight of him was a natural occurence at this point, so it was easy to ignore.

Dodger, whose head was resting heavily on your feet, immediately perked up at the sound of Chris' voice the second the YouTube clip began to play.

It was a snippet from a Jimmy interview – Fallon or Kimmel, your brain was too sluggish to comprehend – uploaded fairly recently. If two months was recent in the grand scheme of things.

"Great to be here again, Jimmy," you heard Chris say as you rubbed the bleariness from your eyes.

"Always a pleasure." Fallon. It was Fallon.

Dodger came crawling up to you, nose sniffing the air, trying to console the sound of Chris' voice without the scent of Chris himself. His wet nose pressed into your cheek and you whined in slight annoyance, giving him a slight nudge. "Down, Dodge. It's just an interview. See?"

You turned the phone to show him, and his ears deflated in understanding. You hid a chuckle, pulling him to you for a cuddle, and he dejectedly flopped down onto your shoulder, curling up beside you. "Don't worry, Dodge," you mumbled, placing a small kiss to the top of the boxer's head. "He'll be home tomorrow."

Chris had been gone longer and longer in recent months. You had returned from Vegas in silence, before, once again, everything was back to false normality. What Anthony had said to you still stuck: he was in the profession of pretense. So you allowed him his pretense, even if it pained you at the prospect of having hurt him.

He had disappeared for a few weeks after Vegas, doing PR – this clip must've been from that junket. He returned for a day, before he had left to shoot his new film for the longest time yet: two months, and counting. Dodger was inconsolable, misery evident in the droop of his ears.

It was strange... Even while filming, Chris had never left Dodger for so long. But you supposed you'd been hired for a reason, and filming must've taken some form of toll on him. Enough to not visit his bud.

You turned your attention back to the interview that had been playing throughout your interaction with the pup and willed yourself to focus.

"–anybody you've had your eye on? Anyone new in your life?"

Chris chuckled, looking down and shuffling in his seat. The question was centered around any romance happening in his life, and by the blush that threatened to creep from his already reddening ears to across his cheeks, you knew that he had been caught.

Caught for what, exactly... The interview now had your full attention, exhaustion exiting your body to be replaced by butterflies that felt as though they were travelling through your very bloodstream.

"Oh, man," he smiled lopsidedly. "Where do I even begin?"

He was trying to avoid the question really, and honestly, you understood why. The rumours that would be spread, you could already see the tabloid headlines the next day. You had to remind yourself that this was an old interview.

"Well, according to our producers, the female viewership on the show skyrockets by 48% everytime you're on, so you need to give me something here. Before they come at me with pitchforks," Fallon laughed.

"Well, there is one. We're close, practically living together, but... I don't know. I don't want to risk it, in case, you know... It ruins things. And that's what she's scared of, which I understand. I just hope she gives it a chance. Fingers crossed."

There was a collective "awww" from the audience and the interview very quickly moved on to publicity for his most recent film, but the blood that was suddenly rushing in your ears drowned it out.

Your breath stuttered, your heart hammered in your chest. Your cheeks ached from the smile that seemed to be stuck there, the moment he had told Fallon.

Some part of you scolded you for thinking that Chris was speaking of you, but it was just too coincidental. What he had said, it applied, right? It was applicable to your situation. Directly. There was room for error, but that was practically minuscule. Dodger shifted in his sleep, almost to punctuate your point.

All rational thought of your previous fears disintegrated with that near absolute admission of his feelings.

You tapped on the icon for messages, and typed out a quick response to your friend so she'd know you'd checked it out. It was a non-committal response, neither denying nor fully accepting what she was implying.

On a whim, you checked the text chain you had with Chris. It wasn't a particularly thrilling text chain, very short and quick replies from when he had a free moment on set, interlaced with heart meltingly adorable pics you managed to grab of Dodger. But upon a quick scroll back, one message caught your eye, dating back a week. One that you hadn't thought much of when you first received it, but that now held so much more meaning.

We wrap in a week, I have something to tell you when I get back

You had expected it to be another film role he'd been going for, or maybe a new Broadway show.

You'd let yourself dream, but never let yourself hope. There was too much at stake. First and foremost, he was your friend, and you'd do anything to not ruin it. Anything but kiss him.

But that night, you dreamed.

And that morning, you hoped.

Maybe that's what had you finding out his flight details from his agent, promising a non-life threatening surprise (he had heard about the incident with the baseball bat, and was more than relieved to hear that you were taking initiative in actively not breaking his client's face – as he reiterated a thousand times over "his face pays the rent! HIS FACE IS WORTH YOUR HOUSE!"), and maybe that's what had you stood there, stomach twisted in knots as you waited.

And then you saw him.

And you were simultaneously utterly calm yet filled with butterflies – a refreshing change from the dull ache you had come to grow accustomed to when looking at him.

What you did next surprised even you.

Breaking free from the rest of the eagerly waiting crowd, you sprinted to him and flung yourself into his arms. They wrapped around you, almost as if he was expecting it, expecting you. He lifted you up and spun you around, his laughter vibrating through his whole body and working its way into yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you clung to him, and he chuckled breathlessly in surprise.

"Hey, you," he smiled softly down at you when he'd set you on your feet.

"Hey yourself."

And then you noticed her. You had been so happy to see him, that you didn't see her at first. But now you did. You noticed the woman next to him – the one with her own suitcase, the one watching your display of affection with amusement, the one with a beautiful (in every sense of the word) smile etched on her perfect features.

"{Your name}, this is Lily." Chris slung an affectionate arm over Lily's shoulder, pulling her slightly closer to him. He was still smiling from your surprise greeting, but when he looked at her, the smile shifted into something else. Something more. Something that crushed the hope from your lungs. "My girlfriend."

He had said it himself, that night at Vulpecula: you can't compete where you don't compare, and the fact of the matter was, you simply could not begin to compare to a girlfriend. Particularly one such as Lily.

Pretending to be overwhelmingly happy came easy, if not a little forced, and maybe if they weren't so lovesick, they would have have noticed just how pathetic your attempt was. But they didn't notice, and so you threw your arms around Lily in an excited hug. We are in the profession of pretence, after all. "So lovely to meet you!"

You almost kicked yourself. It sounded nothing like you, your voice strained and pitched a little too high. Red flushed your cheeks, but they didn't notice.

"Lily, this is {your name}. My roommate."

Roommate. Ouch. Pretending it didn't hurt when he called you roommate, not even friend, came a little harder. Chris was the actor in your friendship, it was clear enough to see now.

"Welcome to our home," you managed to get out, voice still strangled. You quickly corrected yourself: "His home. His home that I live in when he's not home."

In an effort to busy yourself and extricate yourself from the growing one-sided awkwardness of the situation, you helped Lily with her bags, leading the couple to where the car was parked.

They regaled you along the way with how they met – living together in the same hotel, meeting in the bar downstairs one night, the park dates they took.

When you asked when, the answer had your hands clenching half moons into your palms, a wave of nausea crashing over you like an icy ocean wave. Two months. Two months, and suddenly, that interview made sense.

The entire drive home, you thanked your lucky stars that you hadn't done something stupid.

Something so incredibly stupid, like hoped.

[thewriterowl]

Do you have a standard writing process? Particularly with long fics? I start out plotting everything to some degree and then start writing but then usually what happens is I get too excited to share it so I start posting before I finish and then my mental health just kinda goes "and we're not finishing that"

Hello! Well I try to sort of do the same--that’s how I did it with Stars. But yeah, getting all the details out can burn you out quicker than what’s fair :/

So what I’ve sort of learned to do (especially coming out from What the Stars Let in, since that thing was nearly 500 pages in like three months) was the following:

1) I had major focus points already confirmed in my head: I knew Din and Luke would have an arranged marriage, I knew I wanted Luke to share his story to the Mandalorians, I wanted Luke to fight Dark Troopers, I wanted Din to have a moment or two of jealousy, I wanted there to be a “betrayal’ from Din, I wanted Luke to sacrifice himself by stopping and moving a cruiser, i wanted them to be separated, I wanted Din to have a moment facing darkness, and then I want them together. Besides a bare skeletal structor of a story (din and luke fall in love in an arranged marriage) i focused on story-points I wanted to see happen and made it a goal to get to one....and then get to another and it made me more excited for the plot point coming next rather than trying to rush to that ending.

2) For the scenes I was really excited about I wrote a rough draft instantly. I pretty much had a draft of Luke stopping the cruiser and then “dying” since chapter two because I knew I wanted that to happen. Same with the Dark Trooper chapter. Of course a lot of details were added or changed as the story progressed but i was able to really plan things because not only did I know I wanted those scenes, I had them written out so I could figure out how to foreshadow things in regards to them easier.

3) Although I am influenced by my readers and I try to keep things “Realistic” in the story (aka, why I didn’t turn Din dark though it was a temptation) I write what I want to read. This, of course, can hinder the writing process cause you’re putting a lot of extra love into it because, being honest, i want it to inspire others to write things like it so I can read something next so if it is not well received then it can be a bad sucker-punch...but I was just like, i gotta get these moments out there regardless of the response.

4) This isn’t the best advice...but I wrote when i wanted to...basically I am mostly working from home and in a job I loathe who has drained me of most all my happiness for the past three years and has used me something bad, but I’m shackled to them cause money. Well...I write on their time now (not on my work computer lol) so I sort of had this momentum of MASSIVE writer’s spite. “Oh, you’re gonna call me in to work on my day off AGAIN????? well, ok then...tomorrow from 8 till 5, I’m writing this space-dad fic and only answering some emails”. Maybe not risk your job for a fic...but i would recommend see if you can find some sort of spite to influence you case man, that stuff works maaagiiiic. 

5) Push through the block but not necessarily in a way that burns you out. If you can’t write out the chapter you are currently on, then don’t. Skip five or more scenes ahead and just start there and then go back later and tie things in. You do not have to write your fic in chronological order, so don’t shackle yourself to it. You on a scene with Din and Luke talking about the Force, it’s needed and important, but eh, you’re not feeling it? Go on and write their love confession scene. Or their fight scene. Or something you actually DO wanna write. Go read fics, maybe go and talk to artists and writers about general things and chat. Talking to others about things, not necessarily in detail, can be huge.

6) Bringing in the things I’ve said before; this is not something you need to write chronological--so don’t. The writing can be a fun puzzle. Write the parts you want first (aka the corners as many start with as they do a puzzle) and then start connecting things. I found it a lot easier and a bit more fun to do that way.

7) If possible, and this can be hard, try to be a chapter a head of your updates. With a good chunk of Stars, I was like seven chapters ahead of myself. Not so much with this new one (and for sure not with Little Bird) but it sort of releases some worry and pressure off of you. If you have an idea for a fic, try to see if you can upload it once you have two or there chapters written (not edited, that can come as you get read to upload) and it makes you have a deadline but one that isn’t looming.

8) I also gave myself a deadline. I wanted to update at least once a week. This may not work for everyone, so it’s just about figuring out what works for you...but I think I would recommend you set up a realistic goal on how often you update.

9) Just focus on one chapter at a time as you upload. A multi-chap fic can be so easy to get lost in (I may not update some of my Avengers fic) and that’s fine. It’s disappointing and sad, for yourself, but it happens and it should not be a burden on you. You’re writing these things for fun and if it doesn’t work out, well sucks...but there was no harm or waste to it. Some free content just won’t get finished. Happens every day and it’s all good. You just take up the next wave of inspiration and try to get it finished.

10) Ensure you have fun and keep other fun projects available. That mental stuff loves to take away fun, passionate projects. it’s a miserable monster that just wants to suck you dry from it. Take yourself from the project on occasion and write a one shot (these things are miserably hard for me) and use it as an exercise. It challenges you in a different way, gets you to do something new, and can give you and your mental-monster some whiplash so that it can’t instantly take it away from you.

11) If you lose your hyper fixation/love for a pairing, don’t grip on to it for the sake of a fic. I love DinLuke now and I don’t see that changing anytime soon...but when/if it does, I’ll need to just step back and let it go and wait for it to hit in another wave later. Just enjoy the fandom as a fan and you should have a lot more joy and ease in taking part of projects that way.

Those are my little tidbits that’s helped me with stuff so far at least!

[v-hope]

Someone speaks badly about you on a show

—and they defend you, ofc.

Pairings: OT7 x Reader

Genre: I guess fluff for default, angst

Request by @ally22042000: "Hey, I saw that request for reactions are open. Can I have one with the boys ( just Yoongi and JK if all of them are to much), where they are at an award show or interview or something like that and someone talks disrespectfull about the reader? Thx so much💜 and have a nice day."

A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind, I enjoyed writing these 💕 Also, you're an idol in a couple of them and in the rest you're not. I hope you like it!

Kim Seokjin

Your boyfriend absolutely lived for whenever he got asked to be an MC at award shows.

So, naturally, he was very hyped up once he was handed his lines and had to go up on stage with two other idols – one of them being his good friend of many years, and the other one being a new artist who had debuted last year.

It was simple. Read the cards. Just read the goddamn paper notes you had been given and that was it. But, apparently, the idol by his side was way too new to this whole thing, for instead of reading what he had been handed to, he fixed his eyes on Jin to his side.

"Thank God I got to be with the fun one of your relationship".

Seokjin's eyes went to lock with his out of instinct, having not really processed what had just happened yet.

"The fun one?" his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah" the idol nodded his head. "Y/N would've made this so boring".

Jin glanced for a brief second to his friend, as if to verify he had heard just the same and his mind wasn't making it up – his awkward expression itself doing that for him.

Nonetheless, as much as he wanted to snap at him, he decided to be the better one, maybe just because he knew he was still live and didn't want to make a scene right in front of everyone.

That didn't stop him from putting him in his place though.

"Then you clearly haven't had the pleasure to meet her and witness her high class humour" Jin spoke into the camera, later placing his eyes on his friend. "Don't you think, hyung-nim?"

"I have never laughed harder than with her, Seokjin-ssi" he replied immediately.

And then out of nowhere, Jin dug his hand in his pocket, throwing multiple heart shaped red papers that had everyone screaming in a second. "Love you, baby. Don't let anyone tell you you're not funny".

What's the saying? Kill 'em with kindness? Well, Seokjin had just slayed that poor guy's soul.

Min Yoongi

"Hey, it's BTS!" the MC greeted cheerfully once the seven guys came on the shot.

One by one, they went up to her to give her a quick hug before they took their place standing next to her.

Up until then, everything was fine, and maybe things would've remained that way if she had just said nothing after Yoongi hugged her. Instead, she laughed, catching him off guard.

"At least you are polite" she shook her head in amusement.

Yoongi pouted naturally because of his confusion. "Who of us hasn't been polite?"

"Oh, no. Not you" she shook her head one more time, only to clarify: "Your girlfriend".

"Y/N-ssi?" Hobi was the one to ask on his hyung's behalf, being just as puzzled as everyone else by that statement.

At the nod of confirmation coming from the MC, Yoongi brought the microphone up to his lips. "But you've never even met her, where'd you get that from?"

"The video of her not even looking at the paps taking pictures... when you were at the airport the other day".

Yoongi's hold on the mic tightened, suddenly becoming protective of you. "So just because she's a private person she's impolite?"

"She didn't even acknowledge your fans. Come on, that was just very–"

"She's not an idol" he cut her off. "She doesn't have to put up with all of this, especially when she's not comfortable with all the attention".

"She should've known this would happen when she decided to date you".

"Guys…" Namjoon tried to stop both of them from arguing any further, for they had apparently forgotten they were still live.

But Yoongi was already done, slightly shaking his head before he put an end to it for once and for all: "She's given up enough for me already, I'm not asking her to be all bubbly around paps or our fans when she clearly isn't comfortable with it. If that's impolite to you then go off, I guess, but I'm the one dating her and I know better".

On to the next topic now.

Jung Hoseok

"Hoseok!" the girl interviewing them read effusively on her phone.

They had been interviewed person by person that day, since a few influencers had gotten the chance to record short clips with BTS to upload to their social media. This one, so far, had been one of their favourites, for its dynamics consisted in nothing but the young woman going through her Twitter reading fan questions or just letting them know about cute comments they had made.

However, that was soon to change when she caught Hobi's attention, continuing: "I loved you in the concert last week, I got to meet Y/N and she was the cu– oh, irrelevant much?" she mumbled with a small, breathy laugh, before dismissing the topic and scrolling down in search of another tweet.

Hoseok's eyebrows knitted together. "Wha–"

"Oh, here's a good one" she smiled as if nothing had happened, as if she had not heard him; having the seven men exchange uncomfortable glances. "Jimin, you and your girlfriend are such couple goals, I can't w–"

"Um…" Hoseok cut her off, stealing a quick glance to Jimin, who looked just as out of it, before his eyes fell back on the girl's. "How come Jimin's girlfriend is worth talking of and mine isn't?"

"She's an idol" she answered as if it was evident.

His jaw tightened. "So people are only worthy when they're famous now?"

"Well, no..." she uselessly tried to fix it.

"Then I believe you should respect her enough not to call her irrelevant or skip comments at the mention of her".

"But there's nothing interesting about Y/N anyway, so…"

That was all Hobi needed to turn his head to look at his members before he shook his head in defeat. "We're done here, guys. I'm not listening to any more of this nonsense".

Neither were they, which is why they were all soon to follow your boyfriend out of there.

Kim Namjoon

"So, Namjoon-ah" the entertainer's eyes focused on him, "I watched a few pictures of you at your girlfriend's graduation the other day" he smiled. "You guys looked so cute!"

A big smile spread over Joon's lips, recalling the pride he had felt that day because of you, being the happiest to have been able to be there for you.

"Aw, thank you" he said truthfully, his dimples making their appearance. "I'm really proud of her".

"You are?" the man asked.

Now, there were two ways to say those words. One with a genuinely intrigued tone, and one that was looking to offend. In this case, given not only his tone but also the way his eyebrows had raised in impression, it had been clear to everyone present that his intention had been the latter.

"I am" he stated simply, hoping that would be as much as the host would say about the topic before he moved on to the next one.

It was not.

"Don't you ever wish you were with someone more successful though?"

Namjoon's jaw tightened visibly, his eyes turning colder. "What does that even mean?"

"I'm just saying, you're Kim Namjoon" the man shifted on his seat. "Worldwide known idol, producer, rapper… whereas she's just… ordinary".

The way he had said that last word made it seem like being like that was the worst of things, and Namjoon did not like it one bit.

"Her achievements are just as important as mine" he was fast to talk in your defence. "Just because she isn't a part of the idol industry doesn't mean her dreams and passions are any less worthy of recognition than mine".

That alone had the interviewer apologising in a second, realising then how bad he had messed up. Because, in all honesty, Namjoon couldn't really care any less about you being famous or not – he would always be proud of you and your achievements no matter what.

Park Jimin

"Ah, Park Jimin!" the host exclaimed after a picture of you had popped up on the screen in between them. "You really got lucky with this one, didn't you?"

That sure did bring a bright smile to his lips, for he absolutely lived for these moments, when people acknowledged how beautiful you were.

Nonetheless, that smile of his was soon erased when the same guy added: "You should control her more, though".

With that and a frown adorning your boyfriend's face, the picture previously displaying on the screen was gone and replaced with one of you in a night dress from two days ago instead.

"Control her more?" Jimin asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah" he nodded his head. "She has a boyfriend now, she can't go around looking that hot, it might get the wrong attention".

Now, Jimin himself hadn't really liked it when you went out dressed like that, but he was your boyfriend, so he did have some kind of right to feel a little jealous of other guys thirsting over his girlfriend when she was out alone with her friends, didn't he?

This guy, however? Neither what he said was appropriate on so many levels, nor did he have the right to talk about you and your outfit like that.

"I think you should think before you speak and induce people to have unhealthy relationships" your boyfriend spoke in a low, calm voice.

Controlling you? What kind of bullshit was that?

"Come on now, I was joking" the man brushed it off with a laugh, and a very nervous one at that.

"Were you really?" Jimin raised one of his eyebrows, not believing a word. "Even if you were" he went on before the guy could open his mouth to reply, "you should maybe reflect on yourself and, instead of telling me how to treat my girlfriend because of how provocative she looks, think of why you, a guy who's over his forties, thinks that way of someone who could easily be his daughter".

He had not been rude. He had not raised his voice. Yet he did somehow manage to look so fucking scary to the man in front.

Kim Taehyung

"Y/N?" the interviewer asked in disbelief, only to scoff after receiving a nod of confirmation from Tae. "Of course she'd end up with one of you guys".

Not only did Taehyung's eyebrows furrow in that moment, but so did everyone else's – his members exchanging dumbfounded looks as your boyfriend looked to the guy in front dead in the eye.

"One of us?"

"Mhm" the guy replied simply. "She always seems to be with whoever is the most famous at the moment, so..." he shrugged.

"She's only been with other two people?" Taehyung raised one of his eyebrows.

"Who just so happened to be the moment's sensation" he reminded him. "And now she's with you".

"You can't help who you fall for" your boyfriend's stare became colder by the second.

"She's just going to break things off with you as soon as your moment of fame passes".

That was it.

"Okay, no" his voice came out like pure venom. "If she broke up with them, it's merely because they were both complete assholes to her".

"Taehyung…" Namjoon discreetly squeezed his wrist from his side.

"No, hyung" he shook his head before fixing his enraged eyes back on the interviewer. "She's the sweetest person there is, it's not her fault us guys fall for her. And it's not her fault either to have dated guys who don't deserve her. She did well to dump them, and I know she won't leave me just because of my fame's status".

And then, as everyone in the room remained silent, being absolutely perplexed by such situation, he shook his head in disappointment once again at the sight of the guy's desperate attempt to come up with something else to say.

"You know" he beat him to it, "for such an overrated interviewer, you are so goddamn misinformed".

Good thing this would get bleeped out by the editors later, that if they ever wanted this to air at all.

Jeon Jeongguk

"It's been a while since we last were together, hasn't it?" the host spoke after they had all sat down on the sofa placed in front of her. "A lot has happened since then…" a cheeky grin curved up her lips when her eyes fell on Jeongguk, "like the maknae finally getting himself a girlfriend?"

A shy bunny smile didn't wait to part Guk's lips, meanwhile his six hyungs started being chaotic like they, by this point, always were.

"He did" Namjoon was the one to answer for him, fondly patting his shoulder.

"Well, congratulations! It was about time you got someone" the woman said with a smile. "Though I must admit I never thought I'd see you with someone like her".

Your boyfriend's previous smile was replaced by slightly parted lips. "Someone like her?"

"I mean" the woman tried to get her point across, "you've said multiple times that IU is your ideal type, and Y/N's just…" she scrunched her nose in a displeased manner, "she's not exactly…"

Oh, no. There was no way in hell Jeongguk was letting her finish that sentence; the idea itself making him mad. That was the reason his shy side was long gone, being replaced by his protective one instead, which had quickly taken over him.

"She's stunning" Guk spoke in a low, determined voice. "IU is just a celebrity crush. Y/N's the woman I am in love with" he established without hesitation. "I really don't understand why you're bringing this up".

Although taken aback by Jeongguk's sudden way with his words, not having expected such outburst coming from the quietest member when it came to interviews, the woman went on:

"I'm just sayin–"

"No" Guk cut her off, shaking his head hastily, "you have nothing to say about my preferences, you don't get a say on us".

End of conversation.

[pbandjesse]

And another day of camping is complete. And what a lovely day it was. 

Sleeping last night was interesting to say the least. I was super tired once my post was done and knocked out not long after that. Barely 9pm. I did get woke up by more people setting up their camp sites but i was pretty deeply asleep. But then I was woken up by a cold back. Because the air mattress had deflated a lot and my pressure points, like my hips and knees were touching the ground which the other parts of me were safe. I fussed around for a bit and eventually got my extra sweatshirt under me and was able to sleep until around 3 when i had to pee super bad. But i didn't want to treck in the dark all be way to the bath house. I tossed and turned until 430 when i finally just walked in the dark. Didn't even bring a flash light. 

I was able to fall back asleep and slept pretty well. James got up before me and i slept until about 730. I felt pretty good even if the mattress was mostly flat by then. Tonight i put our car blanket on the mattress to hopefully insulate me a little more if we end up on the ground again. James did not that this problem in his sleeping bag. 

I woke up and got cleaned up and dressed best i could in the tent. My hair looks super dirty. Annoying but whatever. I wore a hat for the morning and clipped it back after that. 

We had a nice breakfast. James made us pancakes and i had veggie sausage. Which had a nice texture but was a little dry. And once we were cleaned up and the fire was out we went for a bike ride. 

We just biked around the camp ground. Saw how it was laid out. I had a nice time. It's mostly flat. We are going to look into more biking tomorrow but the short circles we took today was really nice. 

We stopped by the water and took pictures. It was just really nice to be together. It is really beautiful here. And the weather is so nice. A little worrisome how nice for November. But still very nice. 

We got back to the camp site. Locked up the bikes. And drove into town. Today was a day for Christmas shopping. 

We did two large antique stores. And a few smaller places. The first little town, Snow Hill, had an antique toy store that was basically a museum. It was super cool and me and James both spent to much money but we got a bunch of awesome gifts and other things and i just had a blast seeing everything. I even found a tray dedicated to tall ships with Connie right on it. We might keep that one but ehh if we gift it, it was just a really cool find. Always is when we see the ship we met on. Always will be special. 

After a stop at a store with very special salts and oils and honey, we went to our next town.

Berlin called itself the coolest small town in the country. Which honestly. It was pretty cool. The building had a New Orleans vibe. And everyone seemed really nice. 

We went in an antique market that i could have spent multiple hours in. But I restrained myself. I got a few very cool things for gifts. Me and James tried to give each other space so we could keep some things secret. But it was hard when i wanted to keep pointing at things that thought were cool. Still a very fun time. 

We got take out from a soda counter. We got sandwiches and ate them outside and just enjoyed being quiet together. It was a really nice time. 

It was still early in the day. We did make a stop back at the first antique store so James could grab one more thing he had been debating and then back to camp. 

We did some cleaning up. James put more air in the mattress. And I collected sticks. We have a neighbor now. And they have the most darling camper and I'm very jealous. Aesthetically it just the kind I like. I waved hello but I really want to tell them how cool their camper is.

We spent the afternoon reading. And around 4 James for a fire started. We got to use the new saw i bought and we had some technical difficulties with the one but it was fun cutting up fallen trees and stuff. James did injure his thumb a little but i bandaged him up and we got to work on our Thanksgiving. 

We did a really good job working together. We had stuffing and mashed potatoes. We had a half apple each. Garlic bread. A hotdog. Pumpkin pie. And cranberry juice. Neither of us could finish but man was it fun making it happen. We told each other what we were thankful for. And it was just so nice. 

We did the dishes and made out by the fire. As one does. Had lots of laughs. And once everything was cleaned and packed up we played a true or false trivia game until the fire went down. We had a lot of fun with that one. 

We put the fire out all the way. And decided to take a walk to the docks. I told him a story from history on the way there and he told me one on the way back. We looked at the stars and the moon and had laughs and it was just a really nice time. I'm having a great time and i feel really happy. 

When we got back here i got my pjs on. I may put another layer on. But right now I'm cozy. James just went i brush his teeth and I'll probably get up and do the same now. Wash my face. We're both planning on early morning showers tomorrow. Gotta brave the cold for that one. Well see. 

Thanks for all of you being patient with my lack of upload service. Asap i promise. 

Goodnight everyone. Be safe!!! 

[rogermeddowstaylorr]

New apartment - ... Last for life ? (part 2)

Note: Hey there lovies! here comes the second part! I tried to upload it sooner but tumblr was messing with my text on my phone. Thank for your feedbacks, it means a lot to me! and special thank for @rogerina-is-hotter-than-me ​ , as usual. That girl’s helping me so badly and is my buddy. (i love you uwu) Hope you’ll like this chapter, and ... enjoy!

Warning: fluff? they’re talking about sex?

Tag: @rogermeddowstayl0r ​ @annas-unicorun ​ @incorrcctqueen ​

part 1

“It was in our dressing room, after the show...” he pulled back from you, softly, tears on his cheeks. “And it was with Brian.” you looked at him, breathless. Dizziness took you by surprise and you had to put both hands on your bed to hold on and not fall.

It was so hot inside of your place that all the windows were opened. You and Roger were on the balcony, smoking quietly. His long hair was slowly bouncing because of the fresh wind, and his striped shirt was almost completely opened, looking for air. His aviator glasses were pushed down his nose and he was looking at the view. You were wearing a short flowery dress, and your feet were on the table, facing Roger. A puff of smoke came in the air and you smiled at him.

“Gig tonight?” you asked. His eyes came on you and he returned your smile.

“Yep.” he put slowly his smoke on his mouth and a grin appeared on it. “And our plan would be executed.” You smiled a little bit more, and then, lowered your eyes.

“Maybe that's bad. Maybe we will hurt them...” you said, with a little voice. Roger raised slowly from his chair, and let his hand brush your cheek tenderly.

“Hey, bub. No, they're just… in love. They would probably don't care.” he was looking straight ahead in your eyes, to catch your attention. You seemed a little bit disappointed. They're in love. Yeah. Tears threatened to dive down on your cheeks and you laughed a little, to distract you.

“Sorry, Brian is making me so emo.” you sighed. Roger pulled you softly in a hug, closing his eyes. You spent long minutes in his arms, head resting against in chest, when suddenly he pulled back.

“Let's go, I’ve got to set the instruments with the guys!”

When you arrived, the blonde and you did a quick recap of your plan: make Brian and Cheryl jealous. It was Roger's idea and you followed him because he was a womaniser and, knowing Rog', Brian would believe that. You two were close, Roger putting his hand on your waist and murmuring dirty things at your ear to make you blush. You were wearing an excessively short dress that was mirroring Cheryl's. The girl was on Brian's lap, stopping every action she was doing to look at your abnormal closeness. Roger clenched his jaw and you just avoided looking at them. You kissed the corner of his mouth, tenderly. You two already played this game in your college years, and the rule was the same: everything was superficial, and you never kissed him directly. You heard a muffled groan coming from Cheryl, and smiled to the other.

“Hi guys!” Roger was holding your hand, looking at you tenderly. Everyone in the room was surprised by your acting. Freddie was the first to smile, coming closer.

“Oh my lord, Blondie, you shagged her! It was time, darling!” you punched gently Freddie's shoulder and laughed. “You two would finish together one day, it was bound to happen!” You gave a small look at Brian and Cheryl and you could tell that they were clearly pissed. Cheryl had crossed her arms, biting a bit her lower lips, while staring at Roger. She finally came closer to Brian and whispered something.

“We can hear you Cheryl.” Roger said, in a low voice. You clenched your hand around his and tried to stay calm. “And your dress is clearly not better than hers.” he avoided Brian's stare, letting your hand to grab his drum kit. Freddie was staying in the middle and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. He took suddenly your hand, leading you outside, for a “small talk” as he whispered.

“So hello there, Y/N! What is your game?” he stared at you, holding your hands in his.

“ 'Not my game, it was Roger's idea.” you answered right after. “He wanted to make Brian and Cheryl jealous. It is working, for once! One of his ideas are working.” Freddie sighed, putting a hand dramatically on his forehead.

“He's so stupid, my godness.” His hands came on your cheeks, and he pushed you closer to him. “Listen, you have to stop his game because, if not, the band is going to be CRASHED by Brian's hate.” he was looking so serious it was frightening. You nodded quickly, eyes wide. Freddie pulled back from you and lowered his sight. “Hm… Cigarette?” he smiled genuinely, handing you one.

Coming inside, Roger's eyes were on you, and you tried to be witty as possible. You came closer from him, a hand on his chest, a worried and urgent look on your face.

“Fred just talked to me, we have to stop, Rog'. Brian is not going to like it...” you whispered in his ear. He just looked back at you, and shrug his shoulders, not convinced.

On the other side of the room, Cheryl and Brian were actually making out. It was with disgust that you and the blonde realized that. Gross. Without warning, you felt Roger's hand on your waist, bringing you closer to him. You looked at Freddie, needing him to stop that, but he was not facing you. Roger pulled you suddenly in a true and tender kiss. A whimper escaped your mouth, your hands on his chest, trying to get rid of him at first, but slowly softening. You answered his kiss, without realizing exactly. He was breathtaking? Intoxicating? Bewitching? Thrilling? You wondered how the fuck you could go out of this kiss. You pulled back, needing air, out of puff, looking at his blue eyes. Coming back to you, you frowned.

“The rule, idiot.” you whispered. Roger was just looking at your lips. Brian's footsteps caught your attention.

Freddie let out a soft “Oh no,” and, in the next second, Brian was on Roger, punching him.

This “ridiculous fight” -as Freddie called it- ended with both Roger and Brian bleeding from the nose, and having some bruises on their bodies. They played their gig without any complicity, and Roger rushed to see you after the show. He sighed, massaging a bruise on his arm. The sweat was running over his bare chest, his striped shirt completely opened and soaked. His blonde hair was messy and tangled, he needed a good brush.

“It was hurting me so bad!” he was grumpy and knew that Brian would forgive him soon. At the same time, you were concerned by that fight.

“I've told you, Roger!” you took a sip of your beer. “Fred warned me, and I’ve warned you, so do not cry now.”

“You're rough.” he put his hands on your waist, a grin coming on his face. “I like it.” You looked at him, confused, rising an eyebrow.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you pull him back. “Stop playing now. They know everything, so we're back being best friends, bub.” His smile faded at the moment your words reached his ears.

“I was just… Sorry.” he stepped back, looking at you.

All along the evening, Roger was avoiding you, and you were with Freddie, talking barely after the seventh shot of Tequila you just drank. Roger came back with a gorgeous blonde, smiling.

“I would be home, bub.” he said, looking straight in your eyes. By the smell, you could tell he was high as fuck, though he didn’t even like weed. Another night he would not remember.

Freddie took one of your hand, after Roger was not here anymore. You knew Fred since a little time but you were close, finding in him a big brother.

“Listen, lovely.” he said softly, brushing a hair out of your face. He was drunk too and it was difficult for him to articulate. “Roggie is CLEARLY in love with you, okay?” your mouth opened to stop him but he shut you “I’m drunk, I know but… Love… The way he looks at you… The way he kissed you. He was not acting anymore.” after a moment of serious, Freddie laughed suddenly kissing your forehead. “You're beautiful! Stunning! Glittering! Go and get your man until he fuck that Swedish girl.”

What was he saying? Was it true? You loved Freddie, but he was almost drunker than you. Your friendship with Roger was idyllically platonic. Except when he tried to kiss you, this night, at his home. Or when he wanted you to come a night, in some lost bathrooms, when he was with a girl to “try new things”. You never realized how much your relation was strange since that night and Freddie's talk. You never realized all the little witty spades Roger sent you during all this time. Was he real? Or was it his usual game with girls? He was always here for you, but it was his job, as a best friend. He was even here when you broke up with your boyfriends, comforting you in his bed all the time, saying he could be better than all those guys. Finally, his face earlier when you told him that you were “back being best friends”. Fuck, it has never hit you.

Freddie snapped his fingers in front of your face to help you get out of that infernal labyrinth that were your thoughts, and smiled.

“Go, Love.”

thanks for reading it! please leave a comment or reblog to give me your opinion! tell me also if you want to be tagged!

[agentunwin]

RUNAWAY [SHAWN X READER]

A/N: God this is honestly so bad because I just wrote it really quick just to have something to upload, so I’m sorry in advance jdks

Prompt: It’s your wedding day, but the man you actually want to marry will be sitting in the crowd.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff (why is that a warning?)

Words: 2,381

Masterlist

-

The curls peeking from the side of the door are the first thing you notice. Shawn never was very good at sneaking.

And as he watches you and your bridesmaids getting ready for the big event that was starting in all but 20 minutes, he couldn’t control the stream of different emotions flowing through him. 

You’re wearing a long, flowing, diamond-studded dress like the star you are. This dress was you; the embodiment of class, elegance, beauty. You were gleaming, your makeup absolutely perfect, hair styled pristinely.

The glow emanating from your face was ethereal. You looked happy.

But not happy because of him.

Shawn's mind goes blank for a while, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, and he only comes to when he notices you kindly waving your bridesmaids out of the room.

At this, Shawn stands up straight and clears his throat, pretending to check his time or fix his hair or adjust his tie; anything to not make himself look suspicious as the girls passed him, going to fulfill their duties somewhere else.

The room he had been listening in on was now silent, and the war inside his mind was only growing. Should I go in and say hi?, he'd ask himself, or should I just leave?

The long, strange silence is broken when your voice speaks out, catching him off guard.

"You can come in, Shawn."

Shawn's eyes go wide at the realization that he's been caught, but he stands up from the wall and nervously takes a few steps into the room, feeling blessed to even breathe the same air as you again.

You look different than you did just a minute ago. Your glow has dimmed, eyelids suddenly heavier, and your smile- if that's even what you could call it anymore- has turned timid and shy.

Was this the effect he had on you now, when not so long ago, he was the only source of your happiness?

"H-Hi." Shawn breathes out, nose stinging with warning of his tears that would inevitably fall at some point tonight. "Long time no see."

You only nod at this, lipstick-stained lips pressing together.

"Uh, you look great." Shawn compliments, eyes brightening the slightest bit. "Really great. I see you got the dress you always told me you'd wanna be married in."

"Yep. I love it." You mutter blandly as look down to your lap for a second, your left hand beginning to instinctively play with the engagement ring on your right hand. This has become a nervous habit of yours ever since the ring was given to you 9 months ago.

"That's a big rock," He chuckles, and you can tell at this point he's just trying to keep some conversation going, dancing around what he actually wants to say. "Must've cost a fortune, so I'm guessing this guy is loaded. Who is he, anyway?"

"His name is Michael." You hum, nodding your head. "He's a doctor, so yeah, he's pretty well off. That doesn't matter though."

Shawn bites the inside of his cheek and contemplates his next words. His ex's wedding day surely isn't the best day to confess his feelings, but it's been eating him alive for 2 years now. 2 years of crying himself to sleep, 2 years of writing songs about you, 2 years of misery. And god, he wants her to know how miserable he really is, but that wouldn't be fair to her.

"How's your love life going?" You suddenly ask, eyebrows raised. The question confuses him but he knows you're only trying to make banter as well.

Shawn opens his mouth but nothing comes out as he awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"I've tried speed dating and dating apps and those sorts of things," He finally speaks up, but his next words are barely audible, you're not even sure if you hear him correctly. "It never works, though.. Because it's not you."

You bite your lip and he can see your eyes get even heavier at the shift of mood in the room. Shawn feels awkward and he feels stupid, but he continues talking, probably making things worse for himself.

"I miss you so much, Y/N. I miss coming home to you after long days in the studio and spooning with you. I miss those talks about what our wedding day would be like and what dog we'd get and what our kids would be like. I miss the way your face would light up with excitement every time you see me. Now, we're acting like strangers and it's killing me." Shawn takes a deep, shaky breath when he's finishing his words, trying to keep his tears at bay. He shuts his eyes and licks over his cracked lips, "But I also love seeing you happy. So if this is what makes you happy, you have my full support."

He doesn't open his eyes in fear of what you might do or say. He feels embarrassed that he just laid all of that on you when he told himself it was wrong- that it wouldn't be fair. But he did it anyway, and he could already feel regret seeping into his bones.

"What if I'm not?"

Your voice is shy, just a whimper on the tip of your tongue, but it's enough for him to whip his head up.

His eyes go wide and he furrows his eyebrows, "What if you're not what?"

"Happy." She sniffs, and now he can see the tears in her eyes as well.

His jaw drops and he's gaping at her, mind spinning. "Y/N, no, no, no, what do you mean? You have to be happy, right? You're marrying this guy, you have to be sure!"

"God," You chuckle bitterly, a look of disbelief on your face. "You sound like everyone else in my life. I can't do this."

That's when you start really bawling, and now, Shawn has absolutely no idea what to do with himself. He's standing in front of the bride who's hands are covering her face, completely ruining her makeup, and if someone were to walk by right now, this would not look good.

Shawn runs to shut the door and then he runs back over to you, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your hands in his. This familiar touch is what you'd missed for so long. It was strong and comforting, just like all of him.

"Y/N." Shawn says sternly, forcing your eyes up to his. "Tell me what's going on."

"He's not a good person!" Y/N immediately screams, tears streaming down her face even faster now. "All he cares about is money and his job, all I am to him is a trophy! But I have to marry him, I can't deny him because everyone in my life only wants me to marry a rich man. They don't even care about how I feel, and now I feel like I'm in hell every time I wake up in the morning and you're not next to me. I hate this, I hate him, I hate myself!"

You're pounding at Shawn's chest with every last word as you completely break down, heaving and hiccuping wildly, and Shawn swears he's never seen you so angry before.

Shawn catches your hands in his again to get you to stop and his grip is much stronger this time, making sure you don't escape him. He doesn’t know what to say or do and his mind is just trying to when you add the icing on top, your watered eyes looking straight into his.

“I miss you, Shawn, I miss you so fucking much.”

He’s been waiting to hear those words leave your lips for 2 years now, but now that he’s hearing them, he feels awful. He wanted to hear them, but not like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” He whispers, a single tear straying down his cheek, “I’m not gonna let you go through with this if you don’t actually want it.”

“I only have 10 minutes, Shawn,” You continue to cry, burying your face in his chest, getting makeup all over his suit. “It’s too late.”

Shawn bites his lip and shakes his head, refusing to let you marry a man you despised. He glanced at the clock and got to work, quickly beginning to unzip your dress, being careful not to rip or ruin it. You only stand there and try to stifle your cries, allowing him to execute whatever plan he’d conjured up.

When the dress is off he’s folding it as carefully as he can given the time, and you’re standing there in your bra and underwear, suddenly self-conscious again. He notices your body cowering under his gaze and he wants to tell you how beautiful you are and not to hide from him but there’s no room for that right now. He grabs random clothes from somewhere in the room, probably one of the bridesmaid’s clothes. 

He helps you slip into it and his hands go to your hair, undoing some of the many pins and messing it up a bit. 

He steps back and looks at you, sighing heavily. It was a terrible disguise, but for now, it would have to work. 

Everything is going so fast you can’t even comprehend what’s happening anymore. He finds a bag somewhere in the room and stuffs the wedding dress in and then he’s grabbing your purse and your hand, rushing you out of the room. 

The banquet hall is rowdy, people all around talking and hoping to get a glimpse of the bride and groom before the ceremony begins. 

Shawn’s jaw clenches and he leans down to your ear, whispering, “Keep your head down, we’re gonna go out to my car.”

You do as he says and stare at the ground as he guides you through a sea of people, praying that nobody recognized you. The walk to the back door seems like it takes hours before you’re finally hit with the crisp, fresh air, signaling that you’d made it out.

Shawn’s rushing doesn’t stop there, however. He’s running with you to his car and telling you to get into the passenger seat as he runs around to the other side, throwing the dress in the back seat and handing your purse to you.

“Text someone and tell them what’s going on,” Shawn orders you, wasting no time in backing out of the driveway and hitting the long road back to the apartment. “Then turn off your phone. Please.”

You do as he says, texting one of your bridesmaids, then you’re shutting it off and taking a deep breath, looking over to him. “I can’t believe I actually just did that. Fuck, what did I just do?”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Shawn insists, glancing at you for a second. You look like you could drop at any second now, completely drained of any energy. “Y/N, it’s a long drive home. You can fall asleep if you want, I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

That one fateful word slips off his tongue before he can stop himself, but instead of you wincing at the word, you smile gently at it, taking it in wholly. You nod at his promise and reach your left hand out, putting your trust in him. He gets the hint and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers in his. 

Shawn gives your hand a small squeeze and then you’re drifting off to the sound of his low singing and the hum of the engine.

A when you wake up, you’re eternally grateful that none of it was a dream. 

Shawn’s gently tapping your cheeks, trying to get you to wake up as he whispers, “Y/N, we’re here, wake up, sweetheart.”

You don’t know if you’re surprised or not when you open your eyes and notice you’re back at the apartment that you and Shawn used to own together. He helps you out of the truck and keeps your hands connected as he guides you inside the familiar, cozy building, heading straight for the elevator.

“You still live here?” You mutter, looking up to him. 

He nods, rocking back and forth on his feet. “It has a special place in my heart. Lotta memories here, you know. I couldn’t let you go completely.”

Those memories immediately come flooding back to you when he opens the door and you’re hit with a wave of sadness.

Your pictures are still hung up on the wall, serving as constant reminders of you every time he’d pass one. The apartment was exactly the same as you’d left it 2 years ago when you broke up with him, complaining that he was never home because of his music. Now it seemed like all his time was spent in these rooms, moping around and feeling miserable.

But not anymore- Not as long as he had you by his side.

The rest of that night, Shawn helps you get ready for bed, taking your makeup off, putting your hair up into a bun, giving you a bath, and dressing you in some of his way-too-big clothes to sleep in.

You’re laying on your side in the bed that you used to spend hours in. It feels familiar yet cold without Shawn’s body next to you. You don’t know what to do while you wait for him and you’re staring at your phone on the nightstand, tempted to turn it on- to see all of the slander, all of the angry and concerned messages. However, Shawn walks in, catching you staring at it, and he sighs heavily.

“Babe, please don’t think about it. You need to rest.” He mutters, climbing into the bed beside you. He pulls you into him and your body reacts to him like this is normal, like Shawn never left you. Your back is to his chest and your legs tangle together naturally as he nestles his face into your neck, pressing a light kiss there.

“I’m so glad you came back to me. This bed never felt the same after that night.” He whispers and you swear you feel a tear drop onto your skin, making you frown. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Shawn.” You sniff, a small smile replacing your frown. “I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

-

A/N: god this is so bad sjdksj sorry

[el-dibidibidorado1]

Untamed Pt.7

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x plus size MASTERLIST

A/n: sorry for the late update! I hope you guys had a wonderful Thanksgiving!!!

"Y/N?!"

Noooooo it's my day off! Pulling the blankets over my head and rolled over.

"Y/N?!" Noooooooo.

"Y/N!" Angrily I sit up and bring the blanket down. My eyes open and....... What the fuck? There is a Christmas tree in the middle of my room?! Oh my god there is a real pine tree in the middle of my room!

Slowly, I crawl out of my bed and sit In front of the tree. The smell filled my nose heavenly and the ornaments.......looked familiar. Except for this one, a turtle dove? My fingers softly touch the dove. Who put this here? All of this.

"Y/N" Mom and Ed open my door with scared and angry expressions.

"Someone broke i-" mom looked at the Christmas tree and looked back at me then back at the tree.

"Ta-ta da" I nervously say and extend my arms out.

"I don't know if I should ask how this got here?" Ed pointed at the tree.

"Good. Cause I don't know how either" they both came in and sat next to me looking at the tree. It's beautiful. Whoever placed it here is amazing. Creepy, but amazing.

"It smells amazing" all of us take a deep breath, taking in the wonderful smell. Who knows how long we sat there just looking at the tree.

"Who wants pancakes?" I asked.

"Me" Mom said touching the turtle dove

"This is new" I nod my head and take it down.

"Usually there is two. One for a friend and one to keep, but here we have one."

"Should we freak out about all of this?" Ed questioned. I feel like if I should, but I don't. Why? Why can't I freak out about this?

"Oooh these are nice!" I look at Ed playing with some sunglasses. The sunglasses! I forgot to give them to Bucky! Aw man!

"Take those off! They are a gift to someone!" I get up and take them off his huge head.

"WHO?" He asked childish, putting his hands to the side.

"Someone special" I place them in the desk.

"Well I'm going to make the pancakes, get ready we're going to grandma's" we all got up and went out separate ways. Getting my clothes ready I head to the shower. The marks are gone but now there is a scar left behind, make up will do.

With no care I put my music on and get in the shower. I have gone back to showering once a one or twice times a day and it is fine, still feel dirty, but I can't let it get to me.

I let the music take over me and begin singing while washing my hair.

~send you my love on a wire~

~lift you up every time~

~everyone oooooooooo~

The thought of someone breaking in kinda scared me, and the thought of someone placing it in my room while I was sleeping made it worst. Holy shit! I mean the tree is beautiful, but who could have put it in there it's super heavy, and so quietly too. Rosie and Caroline know that I wanted a really tree for Christmas! Them bitches will give me socks or something they dont want. They are out.

A real Christmas tree is all I wanted! But who did I also mentioned that I wanted one. Then the realization hit me like a bowling ball hitting a pin.

"BUCKY!" I yell and open my eyes making soap get in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck that stings. I hurry and get the soap off and finish my shower in a speedy.

Quickly I dry my body and comb my hair. I should have known from the beginning that it was him. My stomach began to get butterflies as I thought about Bucky bringing a pine tree into my house quietly. He gave me a real Christmas tree for Christmas!

"Mom! I need to go somewhere can I get the car?!" I yelled running down the stairs.

"Is 12:37 we need to be at grandmas at 2" she was still making pancakes.

"I'll be back super duper fast!" She gave me her serious look. Come on, please.

"Please I need to go" I gave her my best puppy eyes. Fall for them, fall for them! She threw me the keys, happily I gave her a kiss and ran out. As i raced to Bucky's place I began trying to wrap the sunglasses. That's it! Is that all I am going to really give him! NO! I need to buy him something else! Should I just wait? Or give him the sunglasses?

"Nope! I'm waiting!" Getting out of the car I slip on ice but manage to get a hold of the car door. Getting myself together I go and knock on his door.

Knock knock knock!

I wait for 10 minutes but he doesn't answer. Ugh he's not home! I hit my head against the door. After a couple of seconds I get in the car and head straight home. What did I expect? he has family, duh. Getting home I literally flop myself on the couch.

"Where were you?" Ed asked me.

"Hukmmmmmm" my face was squished against the pillow.

"Huh?"

"I know who gave meee the tree!!!!" Shouted into the pillow. He sat next to me and put a hand on my back.

"His name is Bucky Barnes." He just hummed.

"Ed say something?"

"What do I say?"

"I dont know?! Something?!"

"Is he different?" I nod

"Is he like the other guys?" I shake my head

"Have you....you know?" I shake my head again. I lift my head and look at the destroyed artificial tree. A little chuckle escaped me thinking about Bucky just trying to get all the ornaments.

"How did you guys meet?"

"Work" I sit up trying to fix my hair. He didn't ask anything else. We ate and went to grandma's. We did the same thing over and over again, eat dinner, sit In front of the t.v. or look at the stupid fake tree, then open presents and asking where my boyfriend is, then we eat more. Same. Shit. Over. And. Over. Again.

--------------

"Hey Bucko" Tony sat next to me while drinking his spiked eggnog.

"Hey" he gave me one and I gladly drank it. Alcohol didn't affect Steve or I. Super solder serum.

"Ready for presents?" I nod my head and look at the tree. Damn, Tony goes all out! The thing is almost touching the ceiling.

"You know I didn't buy anything for you guys......i thought I wasn't going to come."

"Hey. Your presence is better than anything" he puts his head on my shoulder and finishes his eggnog.

"Tony what are you doing?" Nat asked amused.

"Don't ruin the moment!" Tony yelled and began digging into his pocket.

"Here take a picture. And post it on my Twitter account. Saying something nice" he put his head back on my shoulder and his hand on my chest like a couple.

"Smile honey"

"No" i deadpan.

"Come On sweetheart" I try moving away but he pulls me back down.

"COME ON. LOVE MEEEEE" I manage to get up and Tony falls to the floor getting a hold of my leg.

"3......2......1!" Nat takes the picture. She showed us the picture cracking up.

"Ohh Oh this is perfect" Tony let's me go and grabs his phone and process to upload the picture.

"Come and open presents!" Steve yells. Once we where all in the room Sam had a Santa hat while giving out the presents. Everyone got a bunch of presents! I got one but it didn't matter I felt good. Bunch of clothes and video games where scattered across the room it was amazing! It felt like home, I just missed someone.

"I know......Buck" Steve caught my attention from Peter teaching me how to use my new phone.

"Hm?" Both Steve and Tony give me a heavy box.

"This is from all of us." Tony said with a huge smile on his face. I began ripping the paper. Man, I felt so excited! I don't care if i just got two presents they ment something important. A record player!

"Look inside" clint said.

A bunch of old records that I enjoyed from the past. I got up and hugged Steve for the wonderful memory before war.

"Hey Bucko" I felt overwhelmed by the gift that a lump formed in my throat.

"There is something else Buck" I look at them and they had huge smiles.

"We might have gotten Tony to make you a mp3 player and put new music in there. It's the songs we think you might like. Some of our favorites too" Clint said as I open the small box inside the case.

"Thank you" I mumbled. I feel overwhelmed with comfort and care.

" Mr. Bucky sir are you crYING? " slowly I wipe my cheek. I guess I am. I try to hid the little tears but I guess I failed.

"I guess I am kid" I lightly chuckled and Peter gave me a bone crushing hug.

"DoN' t cRY" I...

"Peter..." can't...

"Peter........" breath..

"PeTER!!"

"Yes Mr.Stark?"

"Let him go. He can't breath!" Soon as he let go I felt myself take a large amount of air.

"Damn kid you got a strong hold" my voice came out raspy. Laughter filled the room.

---------

"Here we are Buck" Steve turned on the truck. He wanted to drive to my studio. 3 hour drive just talking and singing like old times.

"Thanks Steve and Sam"

"Yeah whatever. But next time can we hear music from this era! I wanna hear some Kanye West man!" Sam kept on blabbing and blabbing. Ignoring Sam I got out and walked to my door with my stuff.

"Hey" I whip my head to the side and see Y/n.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" I open the door and let her in first.

"Thanks. Umm I wanted to th-thank you for the tree. It's beautiful" her cheeks turned pink. "Welcome" I mumbled and placed my stuff on the bed.

"I got you something.." she gave me a Christmas bag. "It's not like your gift sadly. I wish I could give you something better" I open the bag and see the sunglasses that i wanted and a DVD movie. Dumbo.

"We can finally see the movie. If you want." She was nervous, I can tell. All I need is her presence, she made this Christmas better.

"Y/n, you watching the film with me will make my Christmas perfect"

Tags: @tnupsweetpie

[aacinedinburgh]

Week 2: Glasgow, Portobello Beach, & the First Week of Classes

And we're back! Quick note, in case you didn't know: clicking on the pictures will open them and improve the viewing resolution! Without further ado...

Classes started this week, although it's a pretty light academic week. Two of my classes have asynchronous lectures, and the other two only have one lecture a week. Seminars and tutorials, which are smaller in-person sessions, don't start until next week.

Basically, that means that I have time to take a day trip to Glasgow on the first day of school. As I learned in the museum I went to (more on that later), Glasgow was in a post-WW2 downward spiral essentially from the collapse of the industrial sector, but in the 80s, began to reinvent itself as a center of arts, music, and culture. So now, Glasgow is the big Scottish stop for touring musicians, conventions, etc.

One of my favorite artists, dodie, is currently touring the UK, and when I saw she was performing in Glasgow, I knew I had to go. I only have class until 10am on Mondays, so I decided that I might as well make a day of it and explore the city.

The (doubledecker!) bus ride to Glasgow was only supposed to take about an hour, but there was apparantly a gas leak on the M8, so it ended up taking a little over two hours, and I got there in the early afternoon. The good news is I found a really great Indian restaurant for lunch. The best part? The signs hanging inside:

After lunch, I walked over to Kelvingrove Park, in Glasgow's West End. Despite the gray skies and sprinkling rain, there were still tons of people out having picnics with their kids or walking their dogs. Inside the park is Kelvingrove Art Museum and Gallery. There was a little bit of everything inside: big natural history exhibits, the history of Glasgow, old French paintings, and an Ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. The grandiose halls were probably my favorite part, though:

After the museum, I walked through the University of Glasgow campus. One of the main buildings gave off serious Hogwarts vibes. I also walked through the Glasgow Botanical Gardens. Unfortunately, I got there late enough in the afternoon that the greenhouses were already closed, but it was still a nice walk-through.

After the Gardens, I took the bus over to George Square, in the city centre. The bus was rickety as hell. Like, shaking so badly it made Wile E. Coyote on a jackhammer look stable. Nevertheless, I arrived safely. George Square has a whole bunch of big grand buildings, with pillars and arches and domes and the like. I grabbed some fish and chips while I was there before catching another bus down to the concert venue.

Oh my god, y'all, the concert was so good. Shoutout first to the girls in line who let me borrow their portable phone charger and to the girl from Minnesota who was also alone, so we stuck together through the night. Seeing dodie live was such a dream, and it was a great show: the lights, the string quartet, plus getting to stand, I don't know, 10 yards away from the stage? Amazing.

I was kind of nervous about getting back to the bus station and to Edinburgh by myself at night, but luckily, lots of people were headed to the same places, and since probably 90% of the people in attendance were women under 25 (the guys behind me in the picture are honestly some of the only men I saw all night), it ended up being a gaggle of girls all going to the bus station together. It was so weird seeing Edinburgh at the dead of night - it was completely deserted. Even on the most busy streets downtown, Princes St, the Royal Mile, etc., there was not a soul or car to be found. Eerie. If I hadn't been walking back to campus with other people, I would have been super unnerved.

Thanks also to everyone who was checking in that I had not, in fact, been murdered. Gold medal goes to Schyler "please tell me you are not alone rn" Rowland. I love and appreciate you.

I truly enjoyed my visit to Glasgow, but I'm honestly glad that I'm living in Edinburgh instead. Glasgow felt much more like a big city, with all the positives (cool venues, events, and things to do) and negatives (some slightly spooky, grungy, industrial areas) that come with that. Edinburgh has this cosy village feel, even with the 500k+ population, and I'm so glad I get to experience that!

I also made my way over to Portobello Beach, Edinburgh’s coast looking out over the bay. There were lots of dogs and fun stands set up along the beach - I grabbed some gelato from a cart! It wasn’t sunny, but that’s not unusual for Edinburgh and it was beautiful nonetheless.

It's also been a week full of dance classes! This week I went to tap, contemporary, hip hop, and a pole dance class, and next week I'm headed to jazz, as well as African and swing dance classes. You have to pay for membership and attendance to events at the student organizations here, but these first two weeks of the semester are free trial periods, so I'm trying to cram as many classes in as possible. If I get videos of routines I do throughout the semester, I'll upload them here. :)

Stray observations:

- The Glaswegian (yes, that's what they're actually called) accent is so thick. Like the accents from Brave upped significantly. A man at the subway station spoke directly to me for 30 straight seconds, and I understood exactly zero of the words that came out of his mouth. Thank God none of my professors have thick accents. One of them has an Italian accent, which I definitely did not see coming and is also very fun.

- Favorite thing I saw in Glasgow: a hot pink PSA sign that read "be a tidy weegie." Amazing.

- Apparantly spiral notebooks aren't a thing here? I spent about 2 hours going from store to store, and they're not on the UK Amazon either. I ended up with a huge notepad that I put sticky tabs in to section off my classes.

- My respect for pole dancers has just skyrocketed. It was a half hour class, and my wrists are sore (they were popping in and out the whole time, haha), my shoulders hurt, my knees are bruised, and I've got a friction rash on my forearm. It was so fun to try something new, especially something I've wanted to try for a long time now, but seeing as I have to pay for all the orgs I choose to be a part of, I might stick to a style of dance that's a little less painful.

- Happy Bi Visibility Week! To my many bi friends and family, I love you and am so thankful to have you in my life. <3

See you all next week! I have some fun adventures planned in the meantime. ;)