#AND DESPITE how last minute everything feels im STILL in a better position than many of my classmates

[dykedragons]

ive done an insane amount of stuff in the last week. goodness gracious. all these high-effort tasks that ive been doing all day, in a row!!!!!!!! and i still have 2 days of assignments left but at least theyre just writing and editing and can be done in just one big sitting each...

i textured, added materials, lighted and rendered the room (first 3 images) in ONE DAY. i was up until 6 am. and that was after UV unwrapping every object for like 3 days straight.

the Fatalis drawing was done in 2 days. the Daydream sculpt was done in 4 days. this is a cry for help lmfao

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Pinned under wreckage. Hmm, how about Intruality with Remus a construction worker where something went wrong? Preferably happy ending but any will do. (keep up the good work! You're amazing!!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library

Hold Onto Me

Summary: Patton had just wanted to deliver lunch to his husband when he saw the emergency vehicles at the construction site. All he can hope for is that keeping ahold of his hand will be enough. (Happy Ending)

Warnings: anxiety, major injury, blood, hospitals, emergency situation (if there are more please let me know)

Prompt: Pinned Down By Wreckage

Ships: Romantic Intruality (Patton x Remus)

WC: 4038

Disclaimer: I don't think this is how construction practices work but for the sake of the beginning that’s how it's gonna work because angst. The procedure to get him out is however fairly accurate, I did a bit of research as to how someone is rescued from that kind of situation but other than that please take the accuracy of this situation with a grain of salt.

Remus’ heavy boots thudded loudly on the thin catwalk leading over top of where the scaffolding was set in place for the floor of the third story of the new building, not that he could hear it over the general din of construction work. Everything looked good, he was only here to do a general sweep over before anyone else came up to lay the insulation and then actual flooring to make sure nothing would collapse. Being so high up he had a wonderful view of the fair bit of land whoever was moving into this house would own when it was done: a field with woods surrounding it with a long, winding road leading up to the front entrance. 

It was stupidly extravagant, some dream house Roman would have loved to live in if he was rich enough to afford but Remus had been so excited to work on it, and still was. He got to help with the design work and use his hands for hours and hours and even though he came home tired and sweaty he still loved it with every fiber of his being. Not to mention he got to go home to Patton who would smile and cup his cheek to kiss him before pushing him down the hall to shower while he started on dinner. He’d come out to help and they’d settle down at the table or couch to talk or watch a movie and then either work on their own things or cuddle up in bed depending on how tired they were. It was mundane and domestic most of the time but Remus loved that with Patton. He had him and his job and his stupid brother and he couldn’t be happier; everything in his life made him feel safe and happy and comfortable and he couldn’t imagine asking for anything better.

Of course it could all be ruined in an instant. One wrong step and he could certainly plummet to his death. The scaffolding could crack and he’d be impaled on a jagged piece of wood. He could break every bone in his body or be paralyzed for life and be a burden on everyone who knew him and- Remus shook his head impatiently, willing the thoughts away as he turned carefully and began making the rest of the way across the catwalk. Thoughts like that kept him on his toes at least but it was best not to dwell on them too much. He was always careful and he wasn’t about to jinx himself by thinking of everything that could go wrong on the job.

He almost laughed when he felt it: a shift under his feet that meant something could be loose. Of course he would manage to have the most ironic timing in the world. Carefully stepping back he looked closely to see if he could tell what the problem was but he saw nothing. Biting his lip he looked back up at the last couple of feet he had to walk. He should definitely turn around and tell someone to look and fix whatever might be wrong, but he could also save the time and try to figure out himself what it could be if he could just get a better vantage point. It was only a couple of feet, if he stepped wide enough he might be able to avoid whatever problem there was.

Mind made up he stepped forward again more gingerly than he had ever done anything in his life, faintly hearing the lunch bell ringing and the gradual silence that was left from the various machines being turned off and tools being put down. Good, he thought, that way if anything happens no one’s around to get hurt. He screwed his mouth to the side as he quickly dismissed that thought as well, mentally kicking himself for the possible jinx. It was only a couple of feet, just one step and he could hug the wall and lean over to see what the problem was. Honestly with the way the skeleton of the wall was he could probably squeeze himself between the gaps of the unfinished floor and climb down to safety to avoid even having to hop back to the catwalk and go all the way back around. Leaning forward a bit for stability he brought his arms out and quickly lunged for the one, grabbing a hold of two support beams and digging into them so hard his fingernails began to ache. Despite that his new position seemed to be fine, no more shifting under his feet as the tips of his boots found a bit of purchase on the floor's framework by the wall. Grinning through the adrenaline rush he maneuvered himself around until he was facing back towards the room and carefully surveyed the floor. They had laid the framework out in a hurry- ill advised but for the time crunch they were under it had seemed necessary. The consequence for them rushing it though thankfully just seemed to be a missing support plank, making a couple of the beams bow under the catwalk when they were walked on. An easy enough fix and thankfully one that would be relatively quick.

Remus looked down with a grimace. He could climb down...but he had already gotten in trouble once for using scaffolding as a jungle gym even if he was trying to be careful not to be caught. He’d rather not be labeled as a liability not even halfway through the project and since in reality there wasn’t that much wrong with the floor he really didn’t have an excuse not to walk back the way he’d come. Sighing in disappointment he stepped forward and began to make his way back across, the shifting under his feet only making him slightly nervous as he took a bigger step to avoid the worst of it- only to immediately regret it as the entire catwalk shifted to the right as the board he was using slid away from the framework. The catwalk was mostly just a series of shorter boards placed in a sort of grid pattern so you could walk around without there actually having to be a floor. The board he was standing on and currently trying his hardest to rebalance on had shifted under his weight making the edge fall off the board underneath it, meaning it was now hanging onto a beam less than three inches thick by a couple of inches at its end. So not only was then the floor not laid well but the catwalk hadn’t been properly secured either, and if he squinted even closer there wasn’t much of  the floor that was laid completely securely.

Swearing profusely a selfish part of him wished someone else was in this position besides him, maybe they could have figured out a way out of this mess. As it was it was just Remus alone up here, everyone else gone on lunch break and if they noticed he was missing they probably assumed he was either in the bathroom or fucking around somewhere he probably shouldn’t be...such as on the second story unsecured catwalk watching the floor settle and resettle under his weight with sweat dripping down his face. This was supposed to have been a quick job- ten minutes at most of him poking around to find something and now that he had he was risking practically the entire floor collapsing underneath him. He didn’t want to call out for help in case it actually did fall through and trap someone beneath it so it seemed as if it was simply going to be a waiting game in which either he or the floor would come out on top.

And with another shift underneath him it didn’t seem like it was his lucky day.

-----

Patton sang softly along to the song playing through the radio, tapping his fingers along with the beat on the wheel. He didn’t do this often but he really wanted to surprise Remus at work with a lunch. He had packed a little extra for dinner as well hoping he wasn’t too late to give it to him. Remus had said yesterday he’d have to stay a little later than usual to look over some things and do...whatever it was he had said he had to do to play catch up in the huge project the company had undertaken, an apology heavy on his tongue that Patton had preemptively forgiven him for with a peck on the lips and a smile. Though he wasn’t happy how over worked his husband often was, he more blamed the company and commissioners than Remus himself. He worked hard and it showed, and Patton was always proud of him. So, packed lunch and dinner it was with hopefully a quick visit before he had to leave since he was in no way authorized personnel but the people in charge often simply rolled their eyes and waved him through, vaguely threatening him with promised of forced exit if he stayed too long, which Remus never let him do anyway since an active construction zone wasn’t exactly safe.

The sound of sirens in the distance cut off his thoughts as his blood ran cold. Sirens didn’t have to mean anything of course, there were many reasons you’d hear them- but this was practically out in the middle of nowhere, near a construction zone which was again out in the middle of nowhere. Cursing he sped up just a little bit, desperate to get to the site and hopefully disprove what he already knew he’d see. He nearly started crying right then when he turned into the long drive only to see the house surrounded by emergency vehicles and people in uniform bustling from point to point to do whatever it was they had to do. He could see the part of the collapsed house beyond that, what looked like a cave in from the second story that had taken the supporting wall with it, though how something like that had happened Patton couldn’t fathom.

He hadn’t even clicked the engine all the way off when he was out of the car and running to who he knew was in charge, dodging out of the way and trying not to make a nuisance of himself so they didn’t have a reason to kick him off the property. There was no sign of Remus as far as he was looking, not even the sound of his rather loud voice cutting through the worried din of everyone else’s voices which only served to drop his stomach further as he swallowed hard around the nausea. Please God no, he thought. Please please please-

“Where’s Remus?” Patton didn’t think there was a need to bother with formalities in this kind of situation. He just needed to figure out where his husband was, go to him and make sure he was safe. It was a simple plan, the simplest set of goals he’d ever set in his life, but his heart sank as the supervisor turned to him with a grave look on his face that told Patton everything he needed to know before the other even began shaking his head.

“There was an accident. The floor- the floor must have been loose and nobody thought- I didn’t think to check on him after he went up there. We all know how he is.” He gestured helplessly to where several people were gathered around a section of rubble, the weight of a whole building bearing down on whatever they were puttering around. “We know where he is; it’s just getting him out.”

Patton didn’t need to hear anymore, noticing some of the people leaving the group and leaving a bit of space he could see the mess through. Most of it was just wood beams sticking out in every direction like a crudely placed beaver damn, some insulation from the ground floor poking up at the bottom. If he squinted though he could just barely make out a small space that had been cleared, a small hole that he could only assume was what they could safely clear away to see if Remus was still-

Pushing forward before he could finish the thought he hurried over to where the space had been made and knelt down next to it, laying a shaking hand next t o the rubble and iting his lip tp keep from crying.

“Sir you can’t be here-”

“That’s my husband in there.” Patton cut the woman off sharply, only feeling slightly guilty for his tone.

The woman softened. “I understand but-”

“I’ll leave when I’m in the way but right now no one’s doing anything so I’m staying right here so I can be with him. I’m not going to touch or disrupt anything but I’m not moving.” Patton looked up, defiantly daring her to continue, but after a moment she just nodded and backed away. He turned back to the space as a slight moan alerted him, gasping as long fingers emerged from the cramped darkness and reached out. A high pitched whine left Patton’s mouth at the sight of how bloody it was but he nevertheless reached forward desperately and grasped the fingers in a gentle hold. Faintly he heard a warning not to pull him as assistance was yelled for but he only shook his head as tears streamed down his face. Everything in him was screaming to lift the beams himself and drag Remus to safety but he knew it couldn’t work like that. This was a delicate situation that needed to be handled with care but the frustration only built as the seconds ticked by and nothing seemed to be getting done.

“Remus honey, I’m here okay? I’m right here and so are people that are going to get you out of there. You just hold onto me baby everything  will be okay.” He nearly choked on his own uncertainty but he couldn’t afford to let emus think he was anything other than certain he’d make it out of this. His fingers squeezed weakly and Patton’s breath hitched in relief, continuing to rattle out reassurances that he’d be out soon and they were doing what they could he just had to hold on a little bit longer. His head snapped up as a hand landed on his shoulder, one of the paramedics motioning people forward with equipment.

“Keep holding his hand and talking to him, you’re probably helping keep him awake.” Patton decided he didn’t want to think too hard on what  that might mean, instead simply scooching over slightly to make room for whatever it was they were doing and running his thumb gently over Remus’ knuckles as he took a steadying breath.

“They’re going to get you out Remus. They have equipment they’re setting up to get you out and then everything will be fine.” His fingers were squeezed again gently and the medic must have noticed since they paused and leaned down.

“We’re going to put two sturdy boards on either side of you to help stabilize what’s laying on top of you and then put airbags on the other side of them to lift everything up. That should give us enough room to remove you safely. If at any point your space gets too cramped or you feel things settle down on you more, squeeze your husband’s hand and he’ll let us know okay? We’re working as quickly as we can to get you out.” Remus squeezed his hand again and the medic nodded, signaling for things to begin. “This is called cribbing. It’s just putting a basic framework underneath everything to hopefully stop it from settling down more. And then those long tubes will be put in and inflated to lift it up, at which point you'll have to move out of the way so we can get him out.”

Remus squeezed his hand again and both the action and explanation Patton felt his anxiety ebb the tiniest amount. He nodded to the kind woman and moved to hold Remus with both hands as if doing so would make the process go any faster. As the emergency crew bustled around him and got everything into place he simply sat with cramping legs and blurring vision, reassuring the trapped man through soft touches and softer words as they moved thick, wedged shaped beams in front of the pile of debris. Holding his breath Patton tightened his grip slightly as they began inching the beams underneath, focusing his attention solely on the bloodied hand in his grip, poised to react at even the slightest twitch of discomfort. The boards were halfway in when his hand was squeezed weakly, jolting him out of his tense state to yell out a loud “Stop” to the team. They froze and looked to the woman still holding Patton’s shoulder, who leaned forward to be heard.

“Squeeze once if the pile is shifting, twice if we’re hitting you with the boards.” Two quick squeezes were felt and she nodded slightly. “Is there any way you can move without endangering yourself so we can get them in a bit more?” 

He felt a slight squeeze on his hand before shuffling was heard accompanied by a quiet  whimper that tore straight through Patton’s heart as he fought to simply hold the hand in support and not yank him out himself. He nodded as his hand was squeezed again and kept up his quiet reassurances, speaking just loud enough for Remus to hear him over the directions the medics were constantly throwing back and forth. After what seemed like an eternity the wedges were in place and Remus gave the go ahead to squeeze in the air bags. No one dared breathe as they were squeezed into place, no response from Remus unless they asked for confirmation that everything was still okay. 

Everything was going fine- the bags were filling up and Patton could see the rubble being lifted slowly but surely up and off his husband. They were so close to having him out and okay that it almost didn’t register when Remus’ hand went limp in his own. Patton felt the muscles slacken and the hand become sudden deadweight in between his own. Eyes widening he squeezed his hand gently, then perhaps a bit too hard as panic gripped him.

“Remus honey? Are you okay?” The slick hand remained still, fingers not even twitching to indicate he had been heard. “Remus? Remus!”

He thrashed as he was pulled away, screaming louder than he ever had in his life as Remus’ hand slipped away from him and he was hauled to his feet and backward. The medics crowded to fill the space and he lost sight of his hand completely, screaming louder and scratching madly at the arms around his middle.

“Let me go! Let me go, he needs me!” The logic that Patton more needed him than Remus needed Patton over the medics at the moment was flung out of the window as he bucked backwards attempting to throw off whoever it was but the person just held him tighter as they walked him away, heedless of his ear splitting screams. Vaguely he was aware they were talking to him but Patton couldn’t care less as the phantom sensation of Remus’ hand going slack in his own tore his mind apart.

“P…….Pat…...Patton please!” Virgil’s yell finally cut through the panicked fog and provided the window he needed to haul Patton the rest of the way over bside the parked ambulance and sit him down on the ground. “They’re going to get him, Patton, it's okay. I promise you He’ll be okay. And we’ll ride in the ambulance and go into the hospital with him and they’ll make sure he’ll be back to making idiotic decisions in no time.” 

The words meant to reassure him didn’t make Patton feel any better but all the fight left him, adrenaline running its course as he buried his face in his friend’s chest and wept. 

-----

Remus had Patton and Virgil as his first two people to call in an emergency and since Patton had already gotten there and hadn’t checked his phone someone must have then called Virgil when he hadn’t picked up. As bad as he felt he was grateful the other was there as he all but collapsed while they finally got Remus’ still, limp body out from under the wreckage and onto a stretcher, stabilizing him as much as they could before ushering him into the ambulance and driving away after denying them riding along since they needed the extra room. Patton all but dragged Virgil to his car, the other swiping away his keys and insisting he drive as Patton was in no state to and Patton really just agreed if only to get them going faster.

They didn’t get to go in Remus’ room for hours after that, apparently suffering a broken legs and ribs, a sprained risk and a minor concussion that had taken the rest of the day to fix, nearly sending Patton into hysterics when they were informed with the final comment being that he had gotten off lucky. Thankfully Roman and Logan had arrived at that point and they were able to sit with Patton through the night and morning before Logan suggested he take Virgil to get a change of clothes and other necessities so they’d be able to stay longer, Roman volunteering to come along to get Patton and Remus’ things as well.

The hospital room was quiet save for the soft beeping of the machines lining the bed and the gentle huffing breaths of Remus as he slept, thankfully peacefully, in the hospital bed that Patton had his chair pulled all the way up to to hold his now bandaged hand between his. He yawned loudly  and laid his head on his arm, eyes fighting to stay open as he promised himself he was merely resting his eyes but drifting off rather quickly considering the stress of the past couple of days. Confident he would wake if anything happened and trusting the others to come back soon he allowed himself to drift off.

-----

Patton awoke slowly to the feeling up fingers running through his messy hair, taking the time to gently brush out all the tangles of the previous day. He hummed happily and snuggled further into the tough, only to grunt in pain as his neck protested the action with a rather loud crack. Reality hit him all at once and he picked his head up to see Remus smiling tiredly down at him, Head wrapped neatly and already crooked nose set after what must have been the third or  fourth break he had already suffered. Patton’s eyes filled with tears as he  sat up and slowly reached for his husband, hands coming to rest on each cheek to make sure he was really there and alright. Smile tugging wider Remus brought his own hands up to rest on Patton’s, thumbs slowly running over the knuckles like he had done when Remus had been trapped.

“If I wouldn’t hurt you more and get hauled out by security I would slap you so hard for what you did.” In his tired state Patton honestly couldn’t think of anything better to say, but Remus only chuckled weakly and nodded.

“I love you too.”

Laughing softly with him Patton leaned forward to rest his forehead against Remus’ before pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose and softly whispered “I’m so glad you’re safe.” 

“I always am with you.”

Later a nurse would come in and smile at the two: Patton tucked under Remus’ chin and clutching onto his hands like a lifeline as they both slept. Quietly, he would turn out the light and shut the door, reassuring the people camping on the chairs outside that they were alright and they would sigh and shake their heads with amusement. The scolding could wait, they decided. For they would leave them to hold onto each other for as long as they needed.

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[nosleepuntilvacation]

Hi! I've got another Mettaton×reader request for you, if you don't mind. The setting is that Mettaton gets badly damaged, and of course his crush is worried sick. They insist on helping Alphys with the repairs, even if it's small things like handing her the right tool or something. The repairs take a week or two, and the crush just camps over at Alphys' lab the whole time. But anyway! The scenario I want you to actually write is when Mettaton is finally rebooted and wakes up. (cont.)

(cont.) So when Mettaton comes to, his crush is sitting next to whatever table/bed/thing he’s laying on. They go “Thank god!” and probably tear up a bit, smiling like a fool. Mettaton is like, touched that they’ve waited for him like that. When he asks about it, the crush gets all flustered. Mettaton ofc teases them, and as the conversation/banter goes on they accidentally mention at some point that they helped Alphys with the repairs… Que more flustering and eventually (cont. IM SORRY)

(cont.) eventually they end up telling him how much he means to them. In their nervousness, they get a bit rambly and end up confessing their romantic feelings to him. Then they hang their head and don’t look up again until Mettaton tells that he feels the same. Then they’re both awkward and happy and they smooch and stuff. // Sorry if this long, 3-ask explanation is unclear and sorry this is so dramatic. Thank you for considering this.             

…this has been sitting in my inbox for over a year hasn’t it

dishonor on me, dishonor on my miltank, etc. etc. etc.

But I guess it’s better late than never…?

Below the cut: A Storm Leads to a Rainbow

(TW: Discussions and descriptions of a car accident, and the emotional and physical injuries resulting from it; brief mention of alcohol)

Two synthetic eyes open, and their owner groans, clutching his forehead. “Ugh… what happened?”

He looks in his immediate line of sight. The space-printed sheets on the bed he currently occupies, the posters displaying different franchises he likes (his own included), the star-shaped stickers on the ceiling… yep, this is definitely his guest room in Alphys’ place.

“But why–?” He reaches down and touches his hip. Just as he suspected, his charging cable is plugged securely into there. He barely has enough time to register this before he hears a familiar voice.

“Mettaton? Thank god!”

He sits up and looks over towards the source of the voice…

…and he promptly sees you sitting in one of his pink beanbag chairs, smiling like a weight had just been lifted away. And was he seeing things, or were those tears in your eyes?

“[Y/N]? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart.” He smirks a bit. “Have you appointed yourself the president of my fan club? I’ll have you know that you’re competing with me for that position.”

“Heh…” To you, the sound of his voice is exactly what you need right now. You pull out your phone and open your text message program. “Just gonna let Alphys know you’re awake. She’s off jogging with Papyrus.”

After a few chuckles at his own joke, his smile soon becomes more genuine. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.”

“Of course.” You put your phone away after sending a message, and your smile becomes a little more sad as you try to ward off the rock forming in your throat. “When I heard about what had happened to you, I was so worried, and I couldn’t just…” You take a few deep breaths to keep the dam from bursting.

At this point, he can’t help but frown. “If you don’t mind me asking… what did happen to me, anyway? The last thing I remember was Bryan and I driving home, and before I knew it, our car tipped sideways. My whole body was in pain, I heard Bryan calling Alphys… and then I blacked out.” His hand clenches the mattress. “Is Bryan okay, by the way?”

“Yes. He had to visit the ER, but he wasn’t hurt too badly, and they let him go home after a few days. Anyway…”

After swallowing your nerves, you begin to explain the full story.

A little over a week ago, you had been visiting Alphys and Undyne and watching a movie with them. At one point in the movie, Alphys received a panicked phone call from Bryan, an orange mammal monster who seemed to be Mettaton’s frenemy of sorts. The two had been driving together to their respective homes after a production at the local theater when a drunk driver veered into their lane and crashed into Bryan’s car. When Alphys headed out to help, the scene indeed looked grisly, with roadside assistance having to help put the car upright again - and it was clear that at least half of the car would need repairs. Paramedics were helping Bryan into an ambulance…

“…and when she brought you back, I almost couldn’t look.” You shudder. “You looked like something chewed you up and spit you back out again!”

With a sneer, Mettaton folds his arms. “Oh, come on. I don’t taste that bad! Ask anyone who’s ever had one of my world-famous face steaks!” He taps his chin in thought. “Although, maybe I shouldn’t have made them so expensive at first…”

You chuckle nervously; at the time, you definitely wouldn’t have laughed if someone had made that joke, but now that Mettaton’s awake, the whole thing feels a little easier to put in the past.

“Honestly, though…” His expression softens into concern. “…my body looked that bad when Alphys brought me in?” He holds his hands in front of his face and wiggles his fingers, before peeking under the blankets and presumably checking his feet in a similar way. Next, he grabs a handheld mirror from the nightstand and studies his face, brushing his hair out of one of his eyes.

“Yeah…” You wipe away a few tears forming near your eyes. “If Alphys and I hadn’t fixed you up right away…” A shudder takes over your spine; you’re still not entirely sure how all the intricacies of his body work, and this was one situation where experimenting was not an option.

For a moment, Mettaton is silent…

…only to give you an odd look.

“Wait a minute… you helped Alphys with the repairs?”

“Uh–! Well!” Oh god, does he already know what you think of him? “She did most of the big work! I was just there to help hold you still, or to get her the right tools, or to keep an eye on you to make sure you were still stable while she was out getting more supplies and stuff. Undyne helped, too, when she wasn’t at work. Alphys and I took turns watching over you the first couple of nights, while you were still in somewhat critical condition…”

Mettaton blinks. “You even stayed over?”

“Y-yeah… I haven’t actually been home since I heard about the crash.”

By now, you can feel the floodgates open, tears rolling down your face as you explain yourself.

“I wanted to help Alphys as much as I could… I was so scared. You could have died if we hadn’t done enough in time, and if I hadn’t helped and you ended up dying… I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself if that happened. Especially because you’re my friend, and, well…”

Despite the more reasonable side of your mind not feeling ready to say it, your emotions are in full force right now, and you just blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t know when it started, but I really wanted to tell you I love you.”

And with that, you lower your head and finally allow yourself to let out some quiet sobs as the many emotions of the past several days swamp over you: relief from knowing that Mettaton is most likely okay now, fear and sadness from the fact that he probably wouldn’t have made it if Alphys hadn’t gotten there in time, and that hard-to-describe sensation of knowing that, in the heat of the moment, you just confessed your romantic feelings towards your longtime crush. Your body and mind are just frozen like a slow computer as you try to quell this maelstrom of emotions.

It gets to the point where you can barely register it as Mettaton whispers your name and gently takes hold of your hand.

“Shh… everything’s going to be okay, darling. It was horrifying, and I was scared, too… but I feel so much better now.” A smooth thumb strokes the top of your hand as he continues. “In fact… as of late, I’ve realized that I’m in love with you, too.”

“R-really…?” You finally look up; despite your likely looking like an emotional wreck right now, Mettaton doesn’t seem to judge you for it, instead smiling.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to tell you for a little while; you’ve been such a wonderful friend to me. And knowing that you would go this far to help save my life… honestly, I’d do the same for you.”

A cheerful laugh escapes your throat; you’re not sure what to say, but you still manage a “Thank you…”

“And thank you, beautiful.”

For a few moments, neither of you are sure of what else to say amidst the glow of relief and new love, but eventually, Mettaton has a thought.

“Darling, when all of this has blown over a little more… would you, perhaps, like to go on a date with me? I can show you a few of my favorite places in town, and you can show me your favorites, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” There are still a few tears, but they come from a much happier place now. It’ll probably take a little while for everyone’s fears to disappear completely, but what’s important is that everyone is safe right now, and a potential tragedy has been averted.

Before you know it, you wrap your arms around Mettaton in a big hug, which he soon returns in kind before leaning in close to your face. He stops himself and looks into your eyes as if asking for permission, and when you smile and nod, he presses his lips to yours. It’s not the smoothest of kisses, but most first kisses typically aren’t.

Either way, you’re definitely not complaining.

You’re so lost in the kiss that you don’t hear the sound of the front door opening and closing in the other room, nor do you hear the sound of footsteps. Shortly afterwards, though, a small eep does get your attention.

The two of you break off the kiss and look towards the doorway, where Alphys is standing, still in her jogging outfit, with wide eyes.

“Oh! Uh… am I interrupting something?”

As you wave hello to Alphys, Mettaton gently smiles. “Alphys, darling, I’m so glad to see you. And don’t worry; I think everything’s going to be just fine.”

Alphys returns the smile. “Yeah… I’m so glad you’re awake. I’ll probably want to keep an eye on you for the next day or two, though. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“That’s all right. As long as I have everyone cheering for me, I can absolutely manage this!”

You gently squeeze his hand, and he smiles at you.

After a second or two, Alphys pulls out her phone. “So, uh, want to order some pizza or something? I can shower while we wait for it to get here.”

Mettaton rests a hand on his soul casing. “Darling, I haven’t eaten in days, so that sounds absolutely perfect right now.”

“That sounds good to me too,” you say with a nod.

“Great! Let me open the app…”

As you all begin to figure out what you want, you can already picture the delicious taste of the food in your mind. Not only that, you can also picture some of the exciting, lovely things in your and Mettaton’s future… a future that you helped to secure for him.

Sometimes, even a harsh rainstorm can leave behind a beautiful rainbow.

[mccnyoongi]

knj ⇢ novels.

⇢ word count: 5k+

⇢ warnings: art dealer!namjoon, bougie & rich!namjoon, hints of sugar daddy joon but not really??, established relationship, THEY ARE VERY IN LOVE ITS VERY SOFT >:(, but also, smut/porn, unprotected sex, dom!joonie, lots of praise, degredation, spanking, hair pulling, choking, light exhibitionism, light anal play, a bit of impreg, good old fashioned parisian fucking.

⇢ summary: You might just fill a novel with all the things you love about Kim Namjoon.

⇢ author’s note: happy namjoon week - this went from being an 800 word smutty drabble to a full ass one shot with a whole lotta fluff and exposistion… so i hope you guys are ready for the most lovey dovey bullshit to ever come out of this blog (which is saying a lot im a small soft baby)! but im also a whore so its still filthy… ily 💞

You met Kim Namjoon just over two years ago. Your friend had dragged you to a new opening at a gallery, insisting that the artist was a) crazy talented and b) crazy cute, so there was no way she was about to miss it, but also no way she was about to go alone ‘like a loser.’ Said artist was the young, and, admittedly, quite cute, Kim Taehyung, who Namjoon had just started to represent, and would swear up and down that he was gonna be the next big thing. 

You were inclined to agree with both Namjoon and your friend, but you thought that Namjoon’s eyes were far more captivating than any painting you’d ever seen. And later that night, after everyone but the two of you had left, you found out that no collection of brush strokes or lines in a sketchbook could possibly compare to the beauty of Namjoon and the groans he’d involuntarily let out as he fucked the life out of you against the floor to ceiling windows of the empty gallery.

You figured it would be a one-time thing; that he was far too busy to be chasing after a girl like you. People were writing articles about him, you were scraping your way through your last semester of university as an English major and working a shitty part-time job. But then a week later you had gotten a special delivery- the Taehyung piece you and Namjoon had first crossed paths in front of. The one you had been staring at to avoid his searing gaze, the tension palpable despite knowing each other for only minutes.

He texted you about dinner plans the same day you received the painting. Your sweet, sweet, stupidly romantic boy.

Two years have gone and Namjoon was only proven right- Taehyung was his big break into the art world, and everything Namjoon had ever wanted. He’s not sure if it would all taste as sweet without you, but he does have you, so his life is cotton candy flavoured, rose-tinted and gorgeous. Right now, however, the cotton candy is overpowered by equally sweet red wine, a bottle shared between the two of you in the extravagant hotel room he had insisted upon. Paris suits him, you think. 

He loves the extravagance and being able to laugh at the pretentiousness of some, most, all of the artists here. He glows under the lights of the city as they pour in through the balcony windows, the moon as full as your heart and your glass. His eyes take in the view, something he once told you he’d never get tired of. He loves pretty landscapes, from cityscapes to rolling hills of the countryside, to the curves of your body. You take him in from your spot on the plush couch, a piece of furniture not even Marie Antoinette would turn her nose up at.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” It takes you a second to figure out that he’s referring to the wine- you were too busy thinking about the poems and sonnets you could write about his dimples. 

“Tastes expensive,” You comment, and you only say it because you know it was expensive, otherwise you wouldn’t know the difference. It is smooth though, running down your throat like water, dangerously easy to drink, and you’re suddenly thankful that you only have the one bottle to split between the two of you.

“It is expensive,” He chuckles but throws the rest of the glass back into his mouth like it’s a gin and tonic from a dive bar in your hometown. “But I stole it from Tae’s room- the kid fucking owes me.” The devious grin he throws at you is dazzling. Not that he’s in any kind of position where he needs to steal bottles of wine from his friends; he’s childish and teasing when it comes to them. You think it’s cute and endearing.

You humour him like your teenagers who have to be creative with their drinking habits. “Well then, it’s the best wine I’ve ever tasted.”

“You’ve impeccable taste, darling,” He gives you a nod that asks you to join him by the window without him having to actually ask. He never has to ask.

You stand to join him, the dress he had gifted you with for your first anniversary falling at its place on your thighs, the silk soft and cool on your skin. He wraps a toned arm around your waist when you’re close enough, always revelling in how small you feel in his arms. He noses at the crown of your head and your heart brims with nothing but love for your Kim Namjoon.

“We should get a place here,” He sets his now empty wine glass on the counter beside him, his hands now free as he pulls you to stand in front of him, wrapping both of his toned arms around you from behind, his feel and smell more comforting than the world’s best massage.

“What, in Paris?”

“France. Southern France maybe. Get a villa, or whatever they’re called. A boat too... I want a fucking boat, babe.”

“Then you’ll get a boat,” As far as you’re concerned, what Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. The universe seems to bend around him, whether you like it or not. Thankfully you like it quite a bit, especially ever since Namjoon had decided he wanted you.

“And we’ll need a big backyard,” He’s quieter now, no hint of teasing in his tone and when you look over your shoulder at him, he’s avoiding eye contact, his eyes darting around at the view the window is still offering to him. “For some kids to, you know… Run around and shit.” He always clams up and gets a little awkward when treading unknown territory, even when he has no reason to be.

“Sounds like a plan, big guy.”

His arms tighten around you, and he nestles his nose back into your hair for all the words he’s not saying. Namjoon has many ways to say I love you, and every single one makes you float a bit off the ground. Tonight you’re practically fucking levitating.

His plush lips press against your head, soft kisses littering your skin as he travels the pecks down the side of your face. You lean into them, until he places one on the corner of your own lips and you turn your head, two pairs of lips finally meeting. They move in such tandem and harmony, they can only belong to two people madly in love. His tongue sweeps against your lips, the kiss deepening as he turns you to fully face him, mouths never leaving mouths, the two of you only becoming more entwined with one another.

He mostly tastes like the wine, French and pungent, but that distinctly Namjoon taste is still there- it’s minty and intoxicating. The familiarity makes you relax into his strong arms still curled around you. 

“So sweet,” He mumbles into your lips as if he still can’t believe that you’re real. “Always so sweet for me.” He finally pulls back from the kiss to admire you- your heated cheeks, swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. 

“Joonie-”

“I know, honey, I know. Gonna take such good care of you- my perfect girl.” You almost make a somewhat sarcastic comment at the word perfect, but it dies in your throat when his head dips down so he can suck harsh marks into the soft skin of your neck. He loves leaving marks there, even though you tease him and call him childish and cheesy for it, but he can’t help it. He loves making you into his very own work of art. If he had his way you’d be on display in the Louvre, the most beautiful piece there. Mona Lisa be damned.

“You’d better,” You tease because you don’t have the words to explain how much you love him, not out loud. That’s what writing is for. But for now, you’ll tease and poke and prod until he gives you what you need- which you never have to wait long for. He finds it impossible to say no to you.

“Don’t challenge me, little girl,” A fire has ignited in your lover’s eyes, one that sparks something within yourself, as it always has, and you genuinely believe it always will. 

The hand that tangles in your hair only stokes the flames that have begun deep within you. His hand is all at once rough and caring as it pulls, baring your neck to him as if he were some kind of bloodthirsty nightcrawler. But no, he’s just your Namjoon, the one who can dampen your panties and have your heart racing with just a look.

You grin at the tension and the intensity with which he looks into your own, lust-stricken eyes. “What, Namjoon? Afraid you won’t be able to deliver?” It’s an empty taunt, you both know it. He has delivered time and time again, leaving you with a stinging ass, hoarse voice, and an embarrassing waddle in your step. If there’s one thing Namjoon knows how to do, it’s deliver on his promises. And yet you still find yourself push, push, pushing. 

But Joon’s dominance holds strong, a real and honest, guttural growl tearing through his throat at your bratty behaviour. You don’t flinch, but instead bite your lip at the sound, the rumble of it tearing through you and straight into your core. 

“Gonna remind you who the fuck’s in charge, baby,” He’s whispering but to you, it’s just as loud and just as intense as a jet plane taking off, the rumbling of the syllables reaching every primal nerve in your body and setting them alight. His grip on your hair loosens, the large hand brushing stray hair away from your face, the softness of the action almost surprising you more than the forceful yanks he had subjected you to not moments before. “You want that?” He nudges your nose with your own, the air around the two of you thick with tension.

You almost respond by telling him what a dumb question that is- of course, you want it. You think you might even need it. But you decide to acquiesce, to submit because this night is too perfect to carry on being brat you’d have no problem being anywhere that isn’t this five-star hotel room in the heart of Paris with your near-perfect boyfriend. 

“Please, Joonie. Just want you.” And he’ll give you all of him, that much is clear. His jaw clenches as he looks you over with the same eyes he used to look over the lights of the city not ten minutes ago, but now his gaze is filled with an unbreaking, loving lust. 

He’s drinking you in- starting with your bare feet, freed from the confines of those strappy Louis Vuittons the moment you’d stepped through the door. He travels up the flesh of your legs that he just wants to sink his fucking teeth into; moves up the silk of the dress that accentuates everything he loves about your body to the lavish diamond choker he’d really fucking splurged on for the most recent anniversary; and finally to your eyes, beautiful, blown out and wide as they stare up at him. He could so easily get lost in those eyes, and he has many times before- but right now he’d rather be getting lost in your pussy.

“Turn around and put your hands on the glass, baby.” Your body obeys before your brain even has a chance to process his words, not that you have any complaints. 

You can still see Namjoon when you turn around; his mirror image in the reflection of the panelled windows far more enticing than any city on this planet. You feel bad for the smudges your hands will inevitably leave and Namjoon will inevitably tease you about tomorrow morning, but it’s a fleeting thought, the anticipation of what’s in store for the rest of your night clouding your judgement, in a welcomed break from the concerns of the real world. Now it’s just Namjoon.

The glass is cold against your hands, but Namjoon’s hands are warm as they start palming your silk-covered ass, jutted out slightly because of your position against the window. It’s no secret Namjoon loves this particular body part of yours- known among friends for casually and nonchalantly slipping a hand into your back pocket or up your skirt. 

He inches the skirt of your dress up your thighs and past your hips, not even bothering to stifle the groan that tears through him at the sight of the dampened lace now being the only thing to protect your modesty (hah). 

“So fucking pretty,” The way he says it is so fucking sincere you think you might tear up. Instead, you just let out a slight cry as he runs a single knuckle up and down your covered folds. The chuckle he lets out at your sound isn’t quite sinister but it’s nowhere near innocent; he’ll never get over the effect he has on you. “My girl’s got the prettiest cunt around, nothin’ fucking compares, baby.”

His next movement is so sudden; there’s no stopping the girlish squeal that escapes your soft pink painted lips as he gives a swift spank to your ass, his large hand and the force behind it making your nerve ending blossom in pleasurable pain. He delivers a flurry of quick smacks, too fast for your lust addled mind to possibly count as he alternates between your left and right cheeks. Your sounds are embarrassing, or they would be if you didn’t know how much he loved them. You squeal, whimper and moan as your ass juts out, begging him for more as your legs involuntarily kick from under you and your splayed hands turn into fists against the glass.

He keeps one hand on your now slightly pinkened ass, palming it and massaging it under his warm appendage, the other thumbing at your pussy, making you wish he’d just strip you of your underwear already. His patience is maddening though. His thumb roughly moves up and down your pussy, the cloth becoming wetter by the second.

“C’mon, Joonie,” Your voice is airy, almost breathless, but above all, pleading. “Need more, need you so so bad.”

Normally begging works fairly quickly on Namjoon. Unless he’s in a mood where he wants everything drawn out, wants you drooling, dripping and barely able to think before he gives you what you want. Two guesses as to how he’s feeling tonight.

Your begs don’t get you what you want- although you’re not sure you’re even clear as to what exactly it is that you want- instead, they land you another spank, this time to your still goddamn clothed pussy. You let out a sob of both surprise and pain, your elbows buckling so your forearms and the side of your face are against the window and you’re bent over even further than before.

“Greedy fucking slut…” He gropes at your pussy now, massaging away any lingering pain. “You’ll get what I give you and you’ll fucking take it,” A hand winds into your hair once more, now mussed and tangled from his earlier ministrations, and pulls forcefully so that your head is next to his, most of your weight supported by the fist in you hair and his other arm as it curls around your middle. “Isn’t that right?”

You nod in spite of your limited movement, desperate to please. “Yeah-yes Joonie, I’ll take it all,” Your eyes close in sheer submission. “Take anything you give me.”

“Cause I know what you need, yeah?” You nod again as his hand loosens in your hair to squeeze at your cheeks and pucker your lips. “No one else. Just me. Just me and you.”

“Just us.” He lets out a puff of air at your words- satisfaction maybe, or excitement- but it seems to have been enough when he bends you back against the glass and grips at your hips. 

Excitement buzzes through your bones at the feeling of his talented figures hook into each side of the lace there. He pulls slowly at the fabric, too fucking slowly, so slowly that you think you might lose your mind if it wasn’t for his hands and overall commanding presence tethering you to some lose grip of reality. 

He grins when he sees the mess you’ve made, all thanks to him. Pride blossoms in his chest, like it, always does when he gets to see a physical manifestation of the effect he has on you. 

The panties are gone, but you barely register it. He could have thrown them out the window for all you cared, the only thing you could possibly focus on is his fingers, skilled and devilish on your finally bare pussy. He’s still teasing of course, relentlessly, never giving enough pressure, never focusing on one spot for too long- circling around your clit, dipping into your hole but never more than a single knuckle. Evil bastard. He taunts you with sinful words as he goes.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” A pinch to your clit and you whine pitifully. “Soaking my fucking hand and I barely have to work to get you this wet,” A generous drag of his thumb against your swollen bud and your hips buck in a desperate attempt for something, anything, just more. “That’s how fucking easy you are for me, my perfect slut, made to get fucked by me.”

“Joonie, please, please, I am, ‘m your slut, Joonie-” Your begging is cut off with an abrupt sob when Namjoon plunges two of his deliciously thick and strong fingers into your weeping cunt with little pretense. 

“This? Is this what you were fucking begging for? Just needed something to fill your desperate pussy, hm?”

You don’t answer- you can’t, not with him pistoning his fingers in and out of you with an unforgiving pace and an even better curve and arch. Your mouth is open in silent cries at what he’s giving you, as it’s both so much but not nearly enough to take you over the edge, to bring you the peak you so fucking desperately crave.

“That’s all you ever want, isn’t it though? Your pussy filled and your head empty,” More spanks are landed on your ass as he speaks, punishing you for something he loves about you. “Always so needy for me, just like you should be.”

You whine and buck your hips frantically, knowing you don’t need words to beg him. He knows your body well enough to understand that you’re pleading for more, even if he’s finger fucked the words out of your head. It might even be more delicious this way.

“I know, baby, I know,” He speaks softer now, as if he’s talking you through a nightmare and not knuckle deep inside you as we speak. “Just need to get fucked so fuckin’ bad, don’t you baby? Can’t even fucking help it.” He coos; how can he still find you adorable like this, doubled over and stuffed full of his fingers, breasts spilling out of the top of your dress.

“You gotta cum for me first though before you get what you really want,” His other hand reaches around your front to rub brutish but calculated circles into your swollen clit and your cries become even more wanton and needy. “Gonna stuff you full of my cock, promise, just need your tight, filthy cunt to cum around my fingers first, alright baby?”

You nod frantically- “Yeah, Joon, gonna cum soon, need it,” You wish you can see him as you reciprocate his crude promises to the best of your fucked out abilities. You know he must have the biggest shit-eating- or is it pussy eating- grin on his face as your breath catches on every other syllable. “Need your cock so fucking bad.”

“You’ll fucking get it,” He sighs out, bending over to mouth at your neck to whisper into your ear. “Now fucking cum.”

The command is a trigger for you almost like even your body knows that it belongs to him. You orgasm on shaking, unsteady legs, eyes shut tightly, as if letting any light in would overwhelm you to the point of no return, and fingernails digging into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself. Your moans are a combination of your lover’s name and incoherent babbles while Namjoon gracefully coaxes you through the ordeal, soft mumbles of what’s to come in your ear, and hands still incessant at your core.

His voice, which sent you tumbling over the edge of the earth is also what brings you back, calling you his good girl, perfect girl, my girl. His hand is gently petting at your messy hair, pulling you to an upright position, though most, if not all of your weight is being supported by him. 

He tilts your head up by your chin, getting a good view of you- blown out pupils, heaving chest and sweaty skin. He’s so fucking proud because he did that, it’s all him, you don’t fall apart like this for anyone else, and no one else can cause his cock to strain against his pants the way you do. The perfect match- and the wicked grin you give him when your eyes meet his only confirms the notion. You’re both as beautifully depraved as one another. Soulmates, if you believe in that kind of thing.

Namjoon does believe in that kind of thing. And you’re his person. This notion is only further confirmed when he moves his calloused hand down to your neck and wraps around the soft skin there; and your grin doesn’t falter a bit, but instead, it widens a fraction. The sight makes his heart jumps in his chest in time with his cock jumping in his pants.

“Good fuckin’ girl…” He’s referring to both you cumming on his command and your unwavering submission. It’s beautiful and so are you. “I think you deserve a reward, baby.”

At his words, you suddenly feel as though your orgasm hasn’t quite sated you, but wracked up your neediness several notches. The sound of his zipper being undone is enough for your pussy to slicken even further; you feel like a mess but you’re revelling in it and you know he is too.

Your dress- the fact that you were even still wearing it had slipped your mind somewhere in that mind-blowing orgasm- is pulled over your head, leaving you bare in front of appreciative and loving eyes. He kneads at your tits for fleeting moments, even teasing your already hardened nipples and you keen, every single part of you oversensitive and buzzing.

“Up against the window now, baby,” He steels you by the hips and shuffles you forward, breasts once more pressed against the chilly glass, but you don’t have to bend over so much as arch your back and present yourself for the taking. 

His hands grab at your waist, grip strong and surely going to bruise, the marks leftover for him to trace and press sweet kisses to in the days to come. It is sweet now, but lustfully so, while he rocks his hips, the thing you crave most still two layers away as it grinds against you.

He doesn’t bother actually undressing, he likes the visuals and the power dynamic of your naked form against his completely covered one too much. Instead, he unsheaths himself from the confines of his pants, cock hard and at attention, small beads of white collecting at its angry red tip. He’s so hard, so fucking hard because you make him unbearably hard. 

You’re a minx and a menace, even when you don’t realize it. Right now, however, you're fully aware of it, pushing back on his now bare cock, looking over your shoulder to smirk at him. You just might fucking kill him, he thinks.

“Joonie, come on-” You’re not quite begging anymore. Your voice has taken on a playful lilt with a hefty side of undeniable lust. “Gimme your cock already, just fuck me, need to feel you in me, fucking me, cumming in me-”

He interrupts you again. Not with a spank, or his fingers inside you, but with his hand finding home on your neck once more. He adds pressure, restricts your breathing ever so slightly and your heart skips a beat. “What, you get what you want and you turn into a greedy tease? Ungrateful fucking whore,” He slides the length of his cock along your dripping heat, you’re so fucking tempting and he thinks he might be the strongest man alive for not sliding into you right then and there. “I’ll give you my cock. You know I will. And I’m gonna fuck you so hard, make you cum so hard I’m gonna have to carry you out of the hotel when we check out tomorrow morning, and all those prissy bitches in the lobby are gonna see my cum dripping out of you because you’ll be so stuffed full of it.”

You swallow and he can feel the movement of your throat against his palm. His grip softens for a second and he sighs into your ear as you soak his cock before he even begins to fuck you.

“Fuck me Namjoon. Please.”

The dam breaks- he can’t hold himself back anymore, not for a million dollars, not for the entire damn Louvre. He slides into you, filling you to the brim in mere seconds and your groans harmonize with each other. Two proverbial puzzle pieces locking together, the head brushing against your cervix. The fear that you might split in two over his girth is no longer there, instead, it’s just bliss as you know no one else will ever fit with you like he does.

He throbs within you and you clench around him, wondering if he’ll just fucking move because if he doesn’t you might just have to bite his goddamn head off-

And now he’s cutting off your inner monologues too, as he pulls almost completely out of you only to pound back in with force and heat. Your whines are high pitched and his growls are low and grumbling as he starts to properly fuck you, to batter your needy pussy.

“Shit, Joon, oh my God,” You stutter out none too gracefully and his hand tightens once more around your throat, the goal to restrict your breathing enough to drive up your oversensitivity into overdrive. His own maddening breaths and grunts tickle your ear.

“That fucking good, huh?” He laughs airily. “Love when I can make you like this, my little bitch, keening and begging and praying.” Puffs of air fog up the window, and no doubt there’ll be crude outlines of you by the time you’re done, your own little piece of crude and fleeting art and it will be beautiful, but nowhere near as exquisite as the hand around your neck or his length sliding in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

His hand still at your waist slides to your ass, landing a few more lingering spanks to make sure the pink hue will last well into tomorrow and you groan at each one, all the sensations too much in the best way possible. When it’s the colour he wants he gropes it roughly, fingernails digging in just enough to leave little crescent marks in their wake. As he pulls at the flesh there he notices your untouched hole, tempting him just by being there.

He lets his thumb ghost over your asshole; the idea had always enticed him. Now it’s even more so, so taboo and brilliantly so.

“One day I’ll take this hole too, huh?” He lets his finger rub over the whole, not penetrating, only teasing, only tempting. “You’ll let me have all of you, won’t you.”

“You already have all of me,” You counter, because it’s true, especially now, with the way he has you in his grasp. “You just have to take it.”

 He groans at that- you know how to make him crumble, don’t you? You’ve got him wrapped around your pinky finger, but there’s only one finger of yours he wants. “Gonna put a fucking ring on that finger soon, baby. Then we’ll really belong to each other,” Your whimpers make him grin and his hips stutter at their pace on your cunt. “But for now-” He’s falling apart, you can tell by the way he’s choking through his words. “For now, I’ll just make sure everyone knows your mine by painting your beautiful body with my marks, my bruises, my cum.”

“Are you gonna cum in me, Joonie?” The mere idea of it makes you clench tightly around him, needing to milk him until he does. “Please…”

“You want my cum?” You nod, a hand coming off its place to grab at his head beside yours, at his silken locks, now laden with sweat. “I’ll fill you with it, baby, might even knock you up-” You both gasp at his words, his thrusts becoming even harsher and your pussy gushing even more around him. “Then everyone will really fucking know who you belong to when you’re carrying my fucking baby.”

“Namjoon, I’m gonna-”

“Cum around my cock and milk it dry, my perfect greedy whore? Then do it. Fucking do it.”

And you do- you fall headfirst into yet another mind-boggling orgasm, so full, and as you do, his hand tightens once more, all your breathing cut off. He only does it for a few seconds, before moving his hand up to your face, puckering your lips, but it makes a fucking difference, your eyes rolling back into your head, cries sounding something like Namjoon’s name tumbling out. You might even thank him, you’re not sure.

At the peak of it, he reaches his own release, cum spurting into you and somehow it feels even better and the pleasure might be making you insane. He groans your name, and from his mouth, it sounds like the most beautiful ballad you’ve ever heard. He cums so much, and so hard you almost take it as a compliment, some of his cum spilling out of you and onto your thighs, and probably onto the tiled floor, it’s just so fucking much.

The world is still around, like you and Namjoon are the only things not frozen in time, chests heaving and overheated. The lust fades slowly, at the same rate his cock softens within you though he doesn’t pull out quite yet. As the lust dissipates, you’re left with a love for the man who can fuck you within an inch of your life and hand-feed you a silly, childish sundae not twenty minutes later as you watch your favourite episodes of shitty sitcoms and mumble I love yous into ice cream frosted lips. 

The cum has been cleaned off of both of you, and the floor, because, yes, it did drip down a little, and you’re bare-faced and cozy pyjama laden and he still looks at you the exact way you did when you were decked out in diamonds, luxury brands and makeup.

Yes, you might just write a novel about all the ways you love Kim Namjoon.

[clumsyclifford]

another prompt for mashton if you're interested 👀 the chorus of Favorite Place by atl (I was listening to it earlier after reading your latest post and the lyrics hit me so hard)

me: im gonna go back to writing malum/lashton now! you: nice try adkgjadl;kgjafkgjd anyway FUCK you anon this song is my lifeblood so there was no way i could refuse this prompt oh god sorry this is kinda really emo

-

It’s been three days, and Michael misses Ashton.

He’s been trying not to think about it, because the breaks between touring are supposed to be their time for R&R, and he knows Ashton wants to spend time with his family, his brother and sister, and just be at home, comfortable in the knowledge that there are no shows and he can shower whenever he wants. Michael has been trying to fall into that mindset too. It’s amazing to wake up at noon, stay in bed for two hours, and then play video games all day before going to sleep at 2am. Every time they tour, Michael has to choose between kicking all his unfortunate habits or maintaining them and being fucking worn out at all hours of the day, so it’s nice to just veg out. 

But he misses Ashton so much.

It’s in the little things, Michael supposes, like how Ashton has somehow perfected the ratio of milk to coffee better than Michael ever can, and the way Ashton will run his fingers through Michael’s hair while they’re watching a movie, and the broad smiles Ashton will give him onstage, just before they go into She Looks So Perfect, flushed and sweaty but so, so happy. Michael’s gotten used to Ashton in everything he does, and now Ashton’s not here, and Michael misses him. It hurts how much he misses him.

The worst part is that Ashton doesn’t even live that far. He’s farther than Luke and Calum, who are both walking distance, but Ashton’s only a fifteen minute drive, and Michael could do that so easily. He could go and come back fifty times a day. But he doesn’t want to impose on Ashton. Ashton deserves the chance to spend quality time with his family, and Michael should work on not being so fucking clingy. 

That goes fine until two in the morning, and Michael is sitting in bed, knees drawn to his chest, very very close to a mental breakdown. At least he’s able to recognize the signs in himself; his heart feels like it’s cracking down the center, all the blood spilling out; he’s had a twisting, churning sensation in his gut for hours, like the feeling just before you’re going to cry; with every second that passes Michael feels more and more compelled to curl up under his blanket and never leave. He knows what it feels like to break down.

And he knows the best person to talk him down from it.

The only reason he hasn’t dialed yet is because he’s spent about three hours trying to convince himself not to, but now it’s pitch black outside, the entire house is silent, and Michael’s going to start crying in about three minutes, he can tell.

He dials.

Even as it rings he feels like an asshole, and Ashton probably won’t pick up. It’s two in the fucking morning. Ashton’s the only one with a halfway decent sleep schedule, and Michael is going to worry him for no reason when he wakes up in the morning to a missed call from Michael.

“‘Lo?”

“Ashton?”

“Michael.” Ashton’s voice is groggy. He clears his throat. “Hey,” he says in a whisper. “What’s up?”

Michael shakes his head. “I don’t — I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Ashton says without missing a beat. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Michael says, biting down hard on his lip like it’ll keep him from crying. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he just repeats, “I miss you.”

“Okay,” Ashton says. “I miss you too, Mikey. Do you want to come over?”

Michael doesn’t trust himself to drive in this state. “No.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes. If you —”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Ashton says. “Do you want me to stay on the call?”

It’s tempting, but Michael doesn’t want to distract him. “That’s okay,” he says, aware that his voice sounds unspeakably small. “See you.”

“I love you,” Ashton reminds him.

“I love you,” Michael echoes, and then the call cuts out, and Michael forces his legs to stretch out until they reach the floor, and carries himself as silently as possible to the front door. The last thing he wants is to wake his parents.

By the time Ashton’s car pulls up to the curb, Michael has resumed his previous position on the stoop: knees against his chest, mouth set in a tight line, gut still threatening to make him cry. Ashton gets out, in joggers and what Michael recognizes as his pajama shirt, and is by Michael’s side in an instant.

“Hey, Mike,” he says, and his voice is so soft, and Michael wants to cry. “Do you want a hug?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. His own voice cracks in the middle. Ashton gathers him up in his arms and Michael releases his hold on his knees to wrap his arms instead around Ashton, who’s comforting, and Ashton who’s warm despite the chill in the nighttime air, and Ashton who’s here, who smells like cleanliness and sunshine, who feels like coming home more than actually coming home did to Michael.

Ashton doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything, just holds Michael tight against his chest, and Michael feels that writhing gut feeling start to dissolve. After three hours of trying to determine if he’s going to cry or not, it feels immensely relieving to know he won’t.

Finally, Ashton murmurs, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael does, and he knows Ashton will listen. He nods. “You don’t have to keep hugging me,” he says, even though he doesn’t want to let go. Ashton pulls away but stays sitting next to him, one hand palm up on Michael’s knee. Michael laces their fingers together. It’s grounding, to be with Ashton. Michael feels better already.

“I’m sorry for taking you from your family,” Michael says. “And waking you.”

“Don’t be,” Ashton says. “They’re not up right now anyway. And I’ll always be here for you, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Michael says. Technically he knows it, but it doesn’t hurt to hear Ashton repeat it. “I just missed you.”

“That’s all?” Ashton says, soft. “You just missed me?”

Michael shrugs. “Yeah. You’re warm, and I’m cold, and you make me smile, and I missed you. A lot. I know that’s clingy. I didn’t want to disturb your family time so I didn’t call earlier.”

“God, Mike,” Ashton says. “Did you think I didn’t miss you?”

“You spend so much time with me on tour, though,” Michael says.

“Because I like you.”

“But don’t you want a break?”

“Did you want a break from spending time with me?”

“No.”

“Then why would you think I’d want one from you?”

Because you’re like sunlight and I’m just a grey sky, Michael thinks. “Dunno.”

Ashton leans over and presses a gentle kiss to Michael’s forehead, and Michael sighs and leans heavily against him. “How many times can I tell you I love you before you believe me?” he says quietly.

“I believe you,” Michael says, which is true. There’s no way Ashton couldn’t love him, because Ashton can’t help but love. It’s built into his DNA. “I’m just not the only person in your life. It’s not fair to assume —”

“Michael, listen to me,” Ashton says. He reaches over with his free hand and tilts Michael’s face towards him, feather light on Michael’s chin. “You are the most important to me. I would and will drop anything for you. I mean that now and forever. Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”

Michael gazes at Ashton, dim in the dark, and feels the chest-cracking-open feeling again, but this time it feels better, like fixing instead of breaking. “You’re my favorite,” he tells Ashton.

Ashton smiles. “Good, because you’re mine.”

Michael’s not sure which of them moves first, but suddenly he’s kissing Ashton on his doorstep, and he feels like he’s being knit back together, piece by piece, glued in place by Ashton’s hand in his, Ashton’s lips on his. Ashton feels like the sun on Michael’s face, and Michael feels at ease.

[taexual]

HOLIC - 41 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: mostly angst

words: 4.6k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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With every day following Jaebum’s dinner with his new agency, his mood kept getting better and better. You loved hearing him sing whenever he was too occupied with whatever he was doing to realize that he wasn’t alone in the room and you loved catching him smile to himself when you were hanging out, even if you were watching a depressing movie.

He was happy. Overjoyed and blisful, even – and you loved everything about it.

But you hated that you couldn’t match his mood.

You still hadn’t told him about the contract you’ve signed and all that it implied. Not because you didn’t want to – well, actually, you didn’t, but this was something you felt like you had to do despite your wishes – but mostly because you’ve never seen Jaebum this happy this many days in a row, and breaking that streak felt like a crime you’d have to go on death row for. You weren’t ready for that.

“How is the planning going?” Jaebum asked you one night when the two of you found yourselves in the kitchen, preparing to have dinner together after work. He was the one doing all the cooking, though, while you sat by the kitchen island, your laptop in front of you; both of you in your usual positions. “For the exhibition, I mean.”

“Oh,” you’d been relatively quiet about the upcoming exhibition, blaming the sudden workload at your own gallery, but you knew you couldn’t escape from talking about it. “It’s… going. I actually haven’t heard from them much. And I didn’t call them myself because I’ve been busy and—”

His phone started to ring. It’s been doing that a lot the past few days and it always rang mid-conversation. Almost as if whoever was calling him waited until you and Jaebum had started to talk so they could dial. You didn’t mind it this time, however, because it saved you from a very awkward and clumsy half-lie.

Somehow, you found yourself suddenly living your whole life inbetween ill-timed phone calls and more and more half-lies.

Sighing, as you waited for Jaebum to finish his call in the hallway, you closed your laptop and decided to take over his job of chopping the vegetables while he was busy.

As soon as you finished with the carrots and moved onto the cabbages, he was back in the kitchen, beaming. God, you’d have been jealous he was doing so well if you weren’t so incredibly happy to see him happy.

“Good news, I’m hoping?” you encouraged.

He nodded. “They want to release “Don’t Touch Me” as a single with an actual music video accompanying it.”

“Oh, God, your debut music video!” you exclaimed, putting the knife down before you hurt yourself because you could not bother looking at the vegetables when Jaebum was standing in front of you, all smiles and glittering eyes. “Do they have any ideas for it? Any particular plot-lines? Shit, this could be your debut as an actor, too.”

“I’m sure they’ll come up with something if I don’t think of anything myself,” he answered, laughing and taking your previous seat by the island. You rotated positions around each other so effortlessly, it felt as though you’d cooked dinner together your whole lives. “But I have the honor of living with a photographer, so I’m hoping she will be the one who tells me if my ideas are too awful to even consider.”

“Hmm,” you grinned. “That sounds quite convenient. Lucky you.”

“Lucky me, indeed,” Jaebum replied with a matching smirk and then leaned over the island to press a kiss to your cheek before standing up to turn the stove on. “Listen, uh—”

“Can you hold on for a moment?” you cut him off, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket. Of course, you’d get a call right when he had something to tell you. “Someone’s call—oh.”

Jiho had finally reached out. You dipped out of the room – narrowly avoiding Jaebum’s surprised glance at your phone; he was just alarmed by the sudden crestfallen note in your voice when you noticed the caller’s ID – to take the call. You felt guilty immediately after, though. If you’d answered Jiho’s call in Jaebum’s presence, that would have given you an opening to begin the difficult conversation and explain what you had to do in order to get your exhibition.

Clearly, you were still unprepared for that.

“Yeah?” you answered breathlessly once you were in your room, the racing of your thoughts exhausting you not just mentally but physically, too.

“Hi,” Jiho said on the other end of the call. “Is this a bad time?”

You weren’t sure if there was a right time when it came to him.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied.

“Good. I’ve got an appearance for us,” he said it in a grandiose tone, making it seem as though he was announcing that the two of you were about to headline Coachella. “It’s nothing big. One of my friends – well, alright, acquaintances as of right now, but I’m thinking ahead – is hosting this dinner and I’ve been invited with a plus one. Lots of my colleagues are also attending, and I thought, what’s a better way for you to begin your introductions?”

Dinner was an intimate affair, no matter how many people were in attendance or where it was hosted. It involved a group of people sitting closesly at a table, having hushed conversations over glasses of fancy liquor and plates of food you couldn’t even begin to guess the names of. You hadn’t expected that – you’d only considered photography exhibitions to be the ‘public appearances’ mentioned in your contract.

“Uh,” you stammered, losing your train of thought for a moment. “W-when is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“It’s tomorrow?” you repeated, surprised. “Is it—will I always be notified of the events I have to attend with you one day before they happen? Because a heads-up would be nice, I might have plans—”

“This is your job,” Jiho said, and although his words were meant to chastise you for even considering turning him down, he still managed to sound laid-back. The indifference in his voice made your skin crawl – he had to have been acting and you dreaded to think what he really wanted to say. “Surely, you can cancel plans for it.”

“I—”

“But I understand,” he added before you could cut in. “Admittedly, I wasn’t planning on going at all but, after some consideration, I decided this would be a great way for you to get acquainted with some of the more prominent names in photography. I won’t call you about this at the very last minute again. This was my bad. Then again, this dinner is more for you than it is for me or the gallery, so I’d take this chance if I were you.”

You bit your lip. “So, this is a freebie, then? It’s not an official public outing?”

“Don’t worry,” Jiho sounded amused now. “It’s both.”

Getting through the dinner with Jaebum was suddenly a chore because, in your mind, you were already dining with Jiho and the people he’d called his colleagues. In all of the time that you’ve lived with Jaebum, never once did you find your mind wandering out of the room he was in, so this was as unusual for you as it was for him.

“You seem distracted,” Jaebum pointed out when he’d already cleaned his plate and you were still toying with the arugula leaves on yours. “Is everything alright? What was that call about?”

“Nothing, it’s fine,” you said automatically. “I’m just thinking.”

“Not about me, I suppose?”

You raised your eyes to meet his grin and instantly felt the corners of your lips stretch into a matching smile. You looked down to get yourself together and then dared to speak, “can I ask you something? It's kind of weird.”

“Sure,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“What are the lengths you’re willing to go in order to make it as a singer?”

He hesitated as soon as he heard the question. You did warn him that it was going to be weird but he was still confused and not quite sure what you wanted to hear from him.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

“I mean…" you started and then stopped abruptly. You didn't actually know what you wanted to him to tell you, either. "I mean, how far would you consider stepping out of your comfort zone to advance your career?”

Jaebum looked around the room before answering, “well, as far as I have to, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t think any achievements can be gained inside of the comfort zone," he said. "You always have to step out of what you’re used to in order to do something meaningful, but, I mean, that way your comfort zone stretches, you know? I… I wouldn’t have even considered talking about my music to anyone who wasn’t Jackson, and now I-I’m going on meetings where we do nothing but discuss my music.”

“Right," you nodded, swallowing slowly. Jaebum noticed the awkward expression on your face and was already starting to suspect that you'd expected him to answer your question differently when you changed your approach, "but, I mean, if you were given a chance to reach your goals faster, would you take it?”

He thought the answer was obvious, so he frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Let’s say you’re given the opportunity to succeed with a virtually non-existent risk of failure. Except, in order for that to happen, you have to do something that you are—that you’re not entirely comfortable with,” you explained – albeit so vaguely, Jaebum had trouble following you – while tracing the pattern of the tabletop of the kitchen island.

“If you’re asking me if I’m going to sleep with anyone to get a Grammy," Jaebum said, "then the answer is no.”

“I—okay," you laughed in surprise. "Good to know. I didn’t mean—well, I wasn’t talking about something that extreme.”

“Well, as long as I get to keep my dignity, I’d say I’d do pretty much anything.”

“Dignity,” you repeated.

“Yes. This is—it’s going to sound weird, probably, but I like to think of it as if—I’m standing on stage, accepting an award for my music, right? And I have to give a speech. Well, what do I say – am I confident enough to tell everyone the truth of how I got here, accepting this award, or am I too embarrassed to admit to the things I had to do in order to get here?" Jaebum spoke. "Basically, what I mean is, if whatever I’m considering now is going to embarrass me in the future, I’d rather not do it. Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” you replied, not finding the right words to tell him that he didn’t just answer the question you’d asked. He also answered all the questions you’d never even dare to ask. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he rewarded you with another smile before pointing out, “you still look down, though.”

“I—yeah, sorry,” you shook your head, knowing there was no place for you to hide from him here. “I’m just—”

But Jaebum was reaching conclusions faster than you could explain yourself as he squinted his eyes, interrupting you, “is the gallery asking you to—do you have to do something you don’t want to do for your exhibition?”

You were afraid to keep eye contact with him all of a sudden, so you lowered your eyes and were in the middle of shaking your head when you reconsidered. What was the point of lying again when you’d just been given another perfect opening to come clean about Jiho?

“N-no—not exactly,” you said, your heart rate picking up speed. “I just have to step out of my comfort zone, like you’ve said. That’s surprisingly difficult to do.”

He nodded, understanding. “Do you want to talk about this?”

“I don’t want to bother you with—”

“Hey, no, don’t,” he cut you off again, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re not bothering me. We share a living space, so I’d say it’d be nice if we shared our mind space, too.”

You watched him for a moment, appreciating the gesture even though you’d have rather had him ignore everything you were about to say. “That was deep. Is that a new song lyric?”

“Not yet, it’s not,” Jaebum replied, immediately catching your attempt to change the topic, “but maybe it will be if you tell me what’s making you upset.”

Your entire body was buzzing – shaking – with nervous electricity. You realized you had to talk – you’d never forgive yourself for lying to him – but you still wanted to find a way to tell him the truth without revealing all of the details, even though, by definition, that wasn’t exactly the truth at all.

“I’m going to have to—there are these—I will—oh, fuck,” you shook your head, covering your face with your hands as you inhaled deeply. You appreciated Jaebum’s patience while you gathered yourself. “Okay. I’m going to have to attend these events for a little while. For promotion.”

“Okay,” Jaebum nodded. “After the exhibition?”

“No,” you said. “Before.”

He paused, the next question escaping him. Instead of inquiring further like he’d planned before, now he just waited for you to continue.

Prompted by his confused—and yet curious—face, you sighed and tried to explain, “I’ve been told it’s a prerequisite. Basically, they want my name to be somewhat known among my fellow photographers so they can, I don’t know, guarantee that my exhibition won’t send them into complete bankruptcy or something.”

“That—” Jaebum started to reply and then stopped. “Okay, actually, I don’t know if that makes sense. I don’t know how galleries usually work.”

“Well, my gallery never really provided a similar service,” you said. “But, then again, my gallery doesn’t specify in photography. The only photography exhibitions we’ve hosted were by photographers that were already relatively popular. I don’t know much about this either, to be honest, but, I guess, it does make some sense.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “So, these events you’ll have to attend are making you uneasy?”

“Yes. More or less,” you replied, choosing to walk around the gaping hole with Jiho’s name at the bottom, instead of diving into it head-first. “I’m just not sure if that’s fair.”

“Why not?” Jaebum asked, picking up one of the arugula leaves off your plate since it was clear that you weren’t going to finish eating them. “It’s not like you’re getting any special treatment or anything. It wouldn’t be fair if they took you in and hosted your exhibition immediately.”

“That’s true,” you bit your lip. “I guess I’m just uncomfortable with the fact that I’ll have to make a name for myself as a photographer by doing things that aren’t exactly photography-related, you know?”

“Wait,” he stopped chewing. “What do you mean?”

You didn’t understand which part he was suddenly hung up on. “W-what do you mean, what do I mean?”

“These events,” Jaebum repeated, a frown on his face. “You said they’re for promotion. What do you mean, they’re not photography-related?”

Before long, the room had started to burn, your entire body seemingly catching fire. You couldn’t help glancing at your bedroom as you wished to escape.

“No, they are. They’re completely photography-related. I-I just meant that I would prefer it if I became more well-known by taking pictures,” you said, your throat drying under Jaebum’s confused—suspicious?—gaze. “And now I’m basically trying to become a socialite before I can try to become a photographer.”

“Huh,” he leaned back slightly and you weren’t sure what to make of that because, although he looked like he appreciated your explanation, he also looked like he didn’t like what he’d just heard. “Why did you agree to do this if you’re not—if you don’t want to?”

“Because this is my only shot,” you said simply.

“Oh, come on, do you genuinely believe that?” Jaebum asked, skeptical. “You’re a talented photographer, have some—”

“—confidence, yeah,” you finished for him, nodding your head along to the words you’ve heard several times already. ���I keep hearing that but, the thing is, at the end of the day, it’s not really all about confidence. I could believe in myself like no other and still be none the wiser because confidence doesn’t guarantee success. It’s good to have it, but all it does is just ensures I feel less awful when, eventually, this doesn’t work out and I fall down on my ass.”

“I don’t—that’s a very negative attitude,” he pointed out the obvious because he didn’t really have any counter-arguments. Easing your mind about something you were worried about was, as he’d come to learn, unexpectedly difficult. “If you were more confident, you could become successful all on your own. You wouldn’t need any… prerequisites or whatever you want to call them.”

“I could never do it on my own,” you disagreed right away. “I mean, is that not what I’ve been trying to do this whole time, anyway? Taking pictures—”

“—and then not submitting them anywhere,” Jaebum cut in, “yeah, that’s not really it. If you believed in yourself more, you could absolutely make a name for yourself on your own terms. You could even find a different gallery, maybe one that offered you a deal that was a little more acceptable for you.”

“But no one else got back to me!” you replied, feeling your irritation grow. He’d made it seem so easy as if you’d been beating yourself up about this completely pointlessly. “I emailed, at least, a dozen galleries – and there aren’t even that many photography-oriented galleries in our country to begin with – and only one—this one—contacted me.”

“But they did contact you,” Jaebum insisted, his voice rising as well. “They saw your potential. If you’d tried again, maybe more would respond and—”

“They wouldn’t,” you cut him off, not allowing him to plant any more seeds of false hope in your mind.

“Why not? Why are you so sure that they wouldn’t?” he asked. “It’s moments like this when you need to find more confidence in yourself.”

You wanted to keep on repeating that this wasn’t the case because you firmly believed that, if you hadn’t known Jiho prior to your meeting with him at his gallery, you wouldn’t have heard from them at all. This was about connections. About popularity. About, well, money.

“The galleries don’t need artists with potential,” you said slowly, your hands at your sides now, your fists clenched. “They need artists that can make them profit. And if I’m not known, I can’t bring them money.”

“Yeah, but you can find other ways to make yourself known if you don’t feel like doing it this way.”

“I—do you know how long that’d take?”

Jaebum didn’t think that was a problem. “Well, how bad do you want this?”

“What?” you frowned.

“If you want to succeed bad enough,” he explained, “why does it matter how long it’d take?”

“Did you not just say you’d take the opportunity to jump-start your career if you could?” you asked, realizing that you were only getting so angry because, for the most part, he was right.

You did want to host your own exhibition—very much so—but the fear of never succeeding might have blinded you. Jiho’s opportunity was the only one you’ve gotten in your life and it felt like the only one you’d ever get.

“Well, yeah, but I thought we were talking about doing something that wasn’t conflicting with my morals, or whatever,” Jaebum replied. “It clearly seems like you’re uncomfortable with this, so why put yourself through it?”

Because I don’t want you to leave me behind, you wanted to tell him but held yourself back.

“Because it’s still an opportunity,” you said softly, sounding even less convincing—what were you even trying to convince him of?—than before. “An opportunity that I might not get otherwise. This gallery—it’s great. It’s fantastic, the things they’ve offered me, it’s—wow.”

“And yet, you still have doubts?” he asked.

“I guess.”

“Then maybe this gallery is not right for you.”

That sounded too simple.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But I don’t think I’ll ever find an ideal gallery, all of them are going to include some responsibilities I might be uncomfortable with. I just have to man up and pull through, I guess.”

He sighed before saying, “you guess a lot.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, having noticed this as well. “I’ve never been in a position like this before. Obviously, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, either,” he countered, “but I don’t look like I’m being tortured.”

Somehow, even though he probably didn’t mean it, his words were akin to a painful punch in your stomach. You must have looked like you were getting beaten up by mean bullies on the daily and that was definitely not what a person on the way to success should have looked like.

“That’s right,” you said, the expression of your face suddenly resembling a brick wall. “You don’t.”

“Look—no matter what happens, I’m here for you, okay?” Jaebum continued, more careful this time. He noticed that he must have phrased himself wrong because all light had suddenly gone out of your eyes – and there wasn’t a lot of it there in the first place. “If you decide you don’t want to work with this gallery and would rather wait for a different opportunity—”

“—then what? You’ll hold my hand like I’m a crying child on the first day of kindergarten?”

He was surprised to hear your harsh voice. “I—”

“Shit, sorry, I’m—I didn’t mean to sound so accusing,” you pulled back in your seat, bringing your hands over your face in a desperate attempt to calm yourself down.

“No, it’s okay,” Jaebum said. “I-I don’t really know what to say to help you. You’re better at this than I am. You’re the perfect balance between gentle encouragement and tough love.”

You shook your head, still hiding your face. “No, I’m not.”

“For me, you are. I’m trying to learn how to be the same for you, but, obviously, I’m not doing a very good job,” he spoke and then stopped, waiting for you to look at him. Once you did, however, he looked down. “Whatever you do, I’m here, okay? But tell me if you need me to hold your hand or if you’d rather have me push you towards something you’re not sure about.”

His words were like the quiet shelter in a raging storm that you’d been seeking and yet you didn’t dare to allow them to comfort you just yet. “What if I’m not sure about what I need?”

“Well, then let me just do this,” he stood up and walked over to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder, before finishing, “and now we can stay like this until you’re sure.”

Feeling the way your heart dropped as soon as he was holding you, you allowed him to overcome your senses as you asked quietly, “what if it’s never?”

“Then we’ll stay like this until we die of starvation,” he replied, pulling away slightly, “let me just grab a chair for myself, too, yeah?”

You chuckled lightly, allowing him to break the hug and sit down next to you instead. His hands remained on you all through this.

“Thank you,” you said, then, meaning it from the bottom of your heart.

“No need,” he replied. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you’re here. Thank you for that.”

“I have no choice,” he said. “I live here.”

You groaned with a playful roll of your eyes. “Oh, way to ruin a moment.”

He laughed, pulling you into a hug again. “I’ve told you, I’m learning it all from you.”

Like with most things in your life, your mind tended to focus on the negative instead of sticking with the positive – and the dinner with Jiho was not an exception. You’d survived it, of course, and, if you had to be completely honest, there were even moments when you found yourself enjoying your time there – you couldn’t help but feel starstruck when you realized that you were sitting at the same table with one of the National Geographic photographers – but, at the end of the day, you could not force yourself to say that your night was great. It had its’ moments, but it was not at all great.

You’d had to sit next to Jiho the whole night – and, although that sounded like you were twelve years old and the teacher had forced you to sit next to the boy you’ve disliked more than anyone in maths class, this was not the case at all; Jiho very literally orbited you the entire night, never stepping more than three feet away from you – and, on top of that, you had to endure him cutting up the steak on your plate for you after your shaky hands had accidentally released the knife one time.

Undoubtedly, Jiho acted in an ambiguous way because he wanted the others to get interested – helping a friend out with their meal was nothing short of friendly, of course -- but, at the same time, the close proximity between you two could have easily suggested a more intimate relationship. And his actions towards you were definitely eye-catching because, at the end of the night, when the aforementioned photographer was inviting Jiho to the newest magazine release party in the city – he was, apparently, the author of the cover picture – he asked Jiho to bring you as well.

You were glad to receive an opportunity to attend an event that sounded much more official than this dinner but the fact that you’d only attend it as Jiho’s plus one still clouded your mood. You wanted to go there as a photographer. Not as the girl Jiho had cut her steak up for.

When you got back to your apartment later that night, you took your shoes off in the hall and sighed yet again – somehow, no matter how many times you exhaled, you still couldn’t seem to get rid of the nasty dust that had gathered in your lungs overnight. You were more than ready to head to bed and lose yourself in peaceful slumber where you didn’t have to worry about ruining your reputation before you even developed one, but then you noticed the creak in the door of Jaebum’s bedroom.

It was dark inside but the streelights outside of his bedroom window illuminated his bed enough for you to see his sleeping features through the gap in the door. You’d only approached to close the door so you wouldn’t wake him while you showered and prepared for bed but you stopped short once you saw him.

He was smiling in his sleep.

And just this sight alone was enough to make you smile too, forgetting whatever existential crisis you’d already braced yourself for. For a moment there, it really felt like, even if you’d return to your bedroom later and the previous anxiety and disappointment would return with you, you would make it. You’d pull through because it’d be worth it. 

You’d survive anything because you believed that, one day, you’d get to wake up in the middle of the night to see Jaebum’s smiling face right next to yours – and you’d realize you’d been smiling in your sleep, too.

    chapter directory

[tobiomlk]

those tsukki fluff hcs? i am LIVING. could i get general dating hcs for tobio? 👉👈 good luck with your blog - 🐸

— kageyama as your boyfriend

LISTEN kageyama has a condition where brain is filled by (2) things: volleyball and food. relationships? that doesn’t exists. you’re gonna need either a miracle or a saint’s patience to get anywhere with this nerd, whichever works best for you.

i hope you’re well aware that your luck is on a negative count from the get-go, since 1) his knowlodge about romance is next to none and 2) he’s dense as fuck. even if he’s the one to develop feelings first, he wouldn’t act on those any sooner because he doesn’t even gets what’s going on. he just goes ( ??? ) whenever you smile at him and there’s this funny feeling around his ribcage and he’s 100% sure it’s hunger. so, unless you have the guts to fess up first… get ready to simp over this boy for the longest time.

that or until his teammates ( namely, suga ) do a divine intervention ‘cause damn, he’s so grossly in love, and if kageyama was already in the dark we fucking lost him, because what does it means to be in love??? that’s not a position or a game tactic as far as he’s concerned.

he even goes as far as to seek the textbook definition on dictionaries and spiel to himself like a damned mantra in the hopes he’ll get it but guess what? he doesn’t. if anything, he just further confused with the poor intent of describing such abstract concept with big words.

the whole process of realization is so agonizing and infuriatingly slow, it has gotten to the point where all da fucking team is up to date with the tragedy and they’re even making bets as to how it’s going to end ( tanaka and noya are putting all their money to kageyama not ever knowing about his feelings, ennoshita and the third-graders still have a bit of hope for their son. the first-graders are just enjoying the shitshow. )

but when it finally hits him… that there’s no better place than the one by your side and he couldn’t possibly have it otherwise… then it’s over for both of you.

once tobio is set his way, there’s no stopping him. hell, he might as well blurt it out as soon as he sees you, for all he cares. “it seems like i’ve fallen in love with you”.

but now you returning his feelings??? the most unrealistic and unlikiest scenario. his monkey brain definitively didn’t think out this far and now he’s in shambles. you’ve to spent half of an hour explaining to him that, all of it apparently means that you can be “a couple or something” and you can literally see his braincells combusting through his eyes.

are you going to clown him for his confession for the rest of his life? yes. do you hold the moment close to your heart regardless? Yes You Do.

needless to say, kageyama as a partner is awfully awkward. the boy’s barely familiar with platonic relationships, dating it’s like walking blindfolded onto unknown territory. he’s going to need you to teach him the ropes !!! ( not that you’re complaining, of course you’re not complaining )

being as unapproachable and volleyball-crazy as he’s known to be, i think many people depict kageyama as someone who doesn’t fully invests himself onto his social relations, especially the non-platonic field; because yes, to kageyama, volleyball comes first and foremost, but he’s just as devoted and earnest when it comes to his teammates and friends, and more importantly, you. once there’s something that means a lot to kageyama, he’ll give everything he has to offer, and you aren’t the exception to the rule.

while volleyball still takes most of his time and that won’t change under no circumstances, you can tell he does his best to spend the scarce time he has to spare with you. juggling between his passion and his loved one is not an easy task, but kageyama knew what he was applying himself for and there’s no way he’ll be half-assing, no sir!

at the very least, he always makes sure to walk you home. even if that means he’ll have to return afterwards to the gym, because he always trains ‘til very late and there’s no way he’s gonna keep you waiting that long for him ( you keep telling him it’s fine, that you don’t mind waiting, but he doesn’t relents “no. im taking you home first, then practice. and that’s final. now come here, dumbass.” )

he also calls you every single night before heading to sleep! he can’t stay long on the phone because he needs to go to bed early for morning practice, but just being able to hear your voice… to know about you and your day… is more than enough for him.

honestly it never fails to melt your heart when he begins talking in this raspy, low voice and you can tell he’s sleepy by the way he mumbles his words so you tell him that it’s ok for him to go to sleep now but he just shakes his head in spite of the fact you can’t see him and goes like “i still have a couple of minutes left. i want to hear your voice.” like honestly GET FUCKED !!!!!! HE’S SO LOVELY I’M-

kageyama understands if you have different interests and things you’re passionated about ( in fact, he’ll even try it out just so he can something to share with you! ), but, truly, nothing would make this blueberry as happier than you showing the tiniest bit of interest into volleyball. sometimes, the topic creeps onto your talk and unavoidably, tobio switchs to full nerd mode and starts geeking out about the matches and stuff and he’s just so giddy about it but then he freezes, and realizes he might be info-dumping you about something you probably don’t even care about, so he kinda cuts himself before going on… but the look of sheer happiness he offers you when you encourage him to go on? how his big, doe-eyes lit up once you ask him to explain you more carefully? can you possibly fathom how joyous it makes him to know he can get the best of his favorite things together?

to be honest, you’d expect him to be less considerate and act more fit of the self-centered, entitled king role he has been granted— not saying that he doesn’t slips and has his bossy moments of no filter, because he does, but the thing is: he’s surprisingly open to your opinions, too. over time, he’s been taught that communication is of utmost importance and the only way to understand others and have them understand you, and he’s firmly sure that applies to every aspect of his life. he wants you to know that, just as he speaks his mind, you’re free to do the same.

it’s ok if you argue, it’s ok if your points of view don’t match, because that means you’re talking to each other, and that’s way better than letting things sink without actual closure. kageyama learnt that the rough way. his speech might not be the most articulated or refinated, but he tries his best to get his points accross without unecessarily hurting your feelings. communication is so crucial to him, please, keep it in mind.

with that being said, kageyama’s prone to be unromantic and even insensitive at times with how he voices his opinions, because he’s no concept of sugar-coating and won’t hesitate to tell you if you suck at something, or flawlessly ignore your efforts to put on a lovey-dovey mood. but if you talk him about it and express that you’d like him to have some more tact, he’ll take the note! “tact? ok, ok. i’ll.  try to be as tactful as possible from now on and… read the mood? but i make no promises” ( spoiler alert: he keeps telling you that you suck but now he lets you have a sip of his milk and pets your head to soften the blow. )

and speaking of physical affection… god, kageyama is an utter stranger to pda. i mean, the boy is just a prude, unripe blueberry. he doesn’t know how it works, he’s not used to it, and the last thing he wants is to go and do something that’ll put you on a tough spot. your comfort is one of his main priorities, so you have to let him know what’s ok and whatnot, then he’ll start getting the hang of it. once he does, you’ll find out that kageyama is, as a matter of fact, one of the most touch-starved persons you’ll come accross with.

he just can’t seem to get his hands off of you, in the most literal and non-sensual way possible. be it small gestures like your hands brushing together, shoulders bumping, or your heads resting against each others’, kageyama just craves the feeling of your skin against his. despite how bad he denies it, he’s pretty clingy.

you’ve picked on how much he apparently enjoys holding hands, and petting your head, for that matter. you don’t know why, but his hand would always makes its way atop your head. it has even gotten to the point in where he does it out of habit, and when you ask him what’s wrong he just replies “nothing? why do you ask?”

i think kageyama has two stages while he’s on a relationship. the earlier ones, where he cannot lock eyes with you for more than give seconds before going all blushy and stiff, and the advanced ones, in where physical contact has practically become a must and one of his primary functions as a human being to operate naturally.

kageyama’s hugs are so freaking awkward at first… there’s no guides about this. does he just envelops you with his arms ??? and then stay still like that ??? what if he hurts you by holding you too tight ??? oh my god he’s even holding his breath while he’s at it SOMEONE FREE HIM-

and don’t even get me started on the kisses. LISTEN YOU DEFINITIVELY CLASH YOUR TEETH DURING YOU FIRST KISS AND YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND ON THIS ONE !!!!! knowing him, he needs weeks of mental preparation and advice from his god-send suga-senpai before going for it, and when the moment comes… he goes too hard for literally no reason and right after you’re both on the floor whimpering ‘cause that shit HURTED.

“ow, ow… tobio WHAT the HELL” “oh, PISS OFF”

well, at least he has an excuse for rehearsing!!! don’t worry, he’s a fast-learner ;))))

cuddling is just about the same you guys spend all day squirming in order to find a comfortable position and it’s just a mess™ of limbs and giggles.

“wait… maybe if i put my arm around here…” “wait, tobio, you’re tickling me-” “??? don’t laugh !!! STOP LAUGHING THIS IS NOT FUNNY”

but once you finally manage to settle down, god, it’s so pure… kageyama loves to have you in his beefy, setter arms as much as he loves being hold by you. the crook of your neck? a heavingly place for him to rest his head and which belongs to him and him only !!!

look kageyama is so weak for physical affection i’m not even kidding. all you need to calm him down is to rub his back soothingly and he’ll even forget why he was so mad about to begin with. the amount of power you hold over this boy… it genuinely surprises people to see how tame he’s when it comes to you. everyone can agree that if kageyama has a weakness, that’s you.

tobio is not the one to get particularly cheesy or romantic, everyone knows at least that much. however, he has this thing in where he genuinely voices out how great he considers you to be without batting an eyelash which of course makes you super flustered because “why are you getting so cheeky for?” “??? it’s the truth though” SHUT UP IM SOBBING.

you know how slow and oblivious your boy is, so the last thing you expect is him being able to read you as easily? it takes its sweet time, but within the years, kageyama steadily learns to understand you and how do you operate. your habits, your body language, what makes you happy or upset, he knows all of it. he can tell when something’s off just from a glance, yet he’s so nonchalant about it— like it’s obvious to know what’s on your mind. now, does he know how to act knowing this? not really, but give him props, he tries his best!

with all that has happened to him, it should come as no surprise the fact kageyama can get pretty insecure in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t trusts or you ( god, the boy could trust you with his life ), but you can’t blame him for letting his insecurities get the best of him. he’s just so, so afraid… that one day you’ll notice how unlikeable he truly is and you end up leaving him, like most of the people have done to him in his life…

tobio desesperately needs the reasurrance, the words of affirmation, to bask on the feeling of knowing he’s so deeply loved, and that he’s no such thing as an unlovable person. i hope you let him know that, just as he lets you know how grateful he’s for having you in his life.

all in all, kageyama can be a blunt, awkward and more than a bit dense partner, but he’s striving to become a better version of himself day by day, so, he secretely wishes you’ll put up with him a little longer.

[fairycosmos]

tried to kill myself last week n slept it off for 24+ hrs before telling my mom. she couldnt take me to the hospital bc we don’t have insurance n my case manager ended up calling dcs /: (ill be 17 next month) rn i feel like theyre waiting for me to say myself i dont wanna live here rather than just removing me bc technically i am safe but im not ready to do that even tho i know i should let them find me help. i feel like theyre waiting for me to mess up to decide themselves. i just feel lost man

oh god, i’m sorry for the late response and that you’re in this position at all, man :( i literally cant imagine how difficult everything must feel right now, and i dont blame you at all for being lost. most 16 yo olds are, but add something like this into the mix, and it’s no surprise that you’re feeling so conflicted and hurt all of the time. i know it hurts to process such vitriolically negative emotions, but it’s also a normal human response. imo, what the real focus should be on, is doing what you can to cope in a healthy or safe way. even if some days, that just looks like crying in your room and waiting for it to pass. but anyway, i want to say that i’m genuinely glad you’re still here, and i hope that one day you can feel that way too. it’s wonderful that you’re alive, and the world would be missing something if you were gone. even if you dont know it right now, and even if you can’t see it in this moment, there is so much growth and positive change waiting in your future. it’s actually inevitable, and nobody really tells you that when you’re a teenager, but it’s kinda true from what i’ve observed. the natural progression of things, the natural process of growing up, makes things feel a lot more manageable. that probably doesn’t feel like a real train of thought to the present day you, but honestly even in the 3 yrs since i was 16, the entire basis of my perspective has changed. especially bc as an adult you’re able to control so much more of your life and the mental health resources that are available to you. it’s all waiting for you, and it’s nothing to be scared of. you dont have to know what to do next and you dont have to have a solid concrete plan. i’m not sure that they’re waiting for you to ‘mess up’, because trying to do what’s right for your own health doesn’t count as ‘messing up’, whatever you decide is okay. it’s a really hard decision to make and i totally understand why you don’t know where to begin. but i think it could help to just have an honest conversation with yourself about what you really need in terms of where you live. try to block out judgement and what you ‘think’ you should do.  where do you see yourself thriving, where you do see your needs being met? where do you see improvement, and guidance? are you able to work with your case manager to figure out some sort of middle ground, some sort of compromise? i get that actually taking such a step is way way easier said than done, but you can take it at your own pace over the course of the next two years while you figure out what would be best for you.

i know you said you don’t have healthcare, and i’m not entirely sure how things work where you are. but do you think it’s possible that there could be a support group for young people in your area, or a mental health center/crisis team, literally anything at all that could lend you some support? maybe you could talk to your case worker about this, too? there could also be someone at school available, like a counselor or even just a teacher you trust. another option is to call a mental health hotline to see what they think your options are. and i know these ideas sound vague, and like theyre impossible to take seriously, but i’d really appreciate it if you gave them some real thought. it’s alright to be scared, but the fear of reaching out literally doesn’t compare to the fear of staying silent and letting this get worse on your own. mental health conditions are just as serious as physical ones and sometimes they need genuine medical attention in order to learn to live with them, and that’s absolutely alright. having someone to talk to who is trained to offer you the tools you need can really make a massive difference. they’ll be able to advise you on what the next step should be, in terms of your personal development. initially saying that you need help out loud is the worst part, sometimes you have to force the words out....but it still counts, every small effort does. i just want you to know that a better future is possible and is much more likely than the awful one you’re envisioning, no matter where you go from here. if you’re unable to receive professional help at this time, then i hope you’re able to engage in healthier coping mechanisms anyway even if they don’t work every time. i’ll leave some links that may be helpful to you when you’re in a low moment. not saying they’re supposed to fix everything, but they’re supposed to calm you down and give you some clarity so you dont make an impulsive decision. i promise you’re capable of pulling yourself back from the brink of sadness, and i promise you’re capable of getting through this. every day you survive, you’re learning how to make it all feel lighter someday. i wouldn’t say any of this if i didn’t believe in you. despite my extremely limited perspective of your life, i can see that you’re smart and you’re young and you just want to find some stability.  the more you focus on yourself and your own well being, even when you want to self destruct, the calmer things will seem. so like i said before, take all the time you need to consider the choices available to you, and then try to get through each day as it comes. if that feels like too much, one hour. minute by minute is more than good enough. im proud of you for surviving and for being the person that you are. if you ever need a friend or if you want to talk, i’ll be here. you’re not as alone as you want to believe, and so many people can relate to your circumstances because they’ve gotten through it. you will, too. you dont have to have it all figured out, that’s not your responsibility. you just have to keep trying and working with what you’ve been given. im rooting for you.

https://www.healthyplace.com/blogs/speakingoutaboutselfinjury/2018/11/immediate-coping-mechanisms-for-self-harm

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/depression/teenagers-guide-to-depression.htm

 https://www.healthista.com/15-daily-self-care-tips-help-depression/

https://bebrainfit.com/stress-management-techniques/

[wennjunhui]

seventeen hospital au

im back at it again with another random seventeen post bc nurse!jun is ruining me :)))))

disclaimer: the most i know about hospitals and how they work is from chicago med so dont expect this to be accurate 

seungcheol

attending physician in the ed

kinda intimidating but is really a huge softie

but don’t make him angry bc that is not a good idea at all

always seen with a protein shake

tends to hover over the new med students a lot

partially because it’s important to evaluate them and their knowledge

but most because he thinks its funny when they freak out around him

always asks for a psych consult even when he knows its not necessary

bc its totally in the best interest in the patient and not because hes bored and wants to talk with his bff nahhh

has a long term girlfriend that works as a software developer

everyone in the ed tryna get him to propose bc ITS BEEN 9 YEARS DAMMIT WIFE HER ALREADY

jeonghan

psychiatry fellow

usually works night shifts because hes sleeps schedule is fucked 

functions on coffee and coffee alone

is constantly Tired

catch him napping in the break rooms whenever he has time

originally wanted to go into psychology, but he gets too invested and thought it would be better to maintain short term relationships

bffs with seungcheol, but bffls with joshua

by the off chance he’s not tried, he’ll go around the ed and tease the doctors and nurses

hes in the ed a lot tho bc someone keeps calling him even tho “he literally just sprained his ankle seungcheol why am i here”

joshua

plastics fellow

fucking loaded

pulls up to the ed in a fucking gold ferrari and just shrugs when people ask about

‘yeah i got it as a birthday gift, treat yourself ya know?’

born and raised in the us, but went to south korea to further his studies

bffls with jeonghan

by GOD the chance theyre in the same room, its game over for everyone

his surgery playlist is fucking wild 

did a heartbreaking ballad just finish playing? oh thats sad but move over its britney bitch 

always brings a guitar to work parties

‘if you sing sunday morning one more fucking time-’ proceeds to sing sunday morning ‘GODDAMMIT JOSHUA’

is seeing the cute hotel concierge that works a few blocks away 

junhui

the Hot Nurse

literally all the patients fucking swoon 

kinda makes patients nervous bc of how handsome he is

ok i’ll stop now

occasionally scrubs in as a surgical nurse for minghao

he pretends to be all cool and hot shit in front of patients, but when hes around staff he turns into a giant bright ball of excitable fluff 

will always be asked to be assigned to kid patients bc he loves kids

studied abroad in korea and decided he loved it there so he stayed

may or may not have a crush on someone in the hospital but shh no one knows except jeonghan and minghao

has no problem calculating correct dosages but cant do basic math for the life of him

‘no junhui, 7+8 does not equal 17′

soonyoung

senior resident in the ed

HYPEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!111

works night shifts bc otherwise the ed would be dead without him

probably drinks too much redbull for his own health

his favorite treatment room is treatment room five because “that’s where a patient peed on me on my first day here”

“ok soonyoung good to kno”

“no problem”

not very tech savvy 

always manages to fuck up the tablets somehow every shift

for the love of GOD dont let him near an xray machine

also never assign him and seungkwan on the same patient they will accomplish nothing 

has taken chan under his wing

wonwoo

neurology resident

blind as fuck

harry potter glasses for days

looks really cold on the outside but is really just a huge fucking dork

like actually he laughs and jokes about anything and everything

neurology can be dark sometimes yo and humor is a great way to cope with it

that and gaming

half the reason why he cant see is bc he spent too much time playing video games growing up

still kinda does but he gets away with it

accompanies soonyoung on the night shift bc he knows soonyoung gets lonely sometimes

plays ballads in the surgery rooms because it helps him keep calm

jihoon

pathology resident

‘forget working with humans hAVE YOU SEEN THIS BLOOD CULTURE ITS COOL AS FUCK’

that being said, he hangs around the break rooms a lot because being cooped up in pathology is just tiring sometimes and he needs actual people to talk to

but mostly its so he can draw on jeonghans sleeping face

shares a flat with soonyoung bc rent is expensive yo

usually has the best tunes down in pathology 

originally wanted to go into music, but school kinda killed his enjoyment of it for a long time

is slowly getting back into and finding his joy in it again

he knows too many stories about the ed that hes forced to listen to

“for the last fucking time soonyoung i dont care about how your patient threw up on seungkwan”

“okokok but`”

“no”

seokmin

ed resident wanting to specialize in pediatrics

SUNSHINE AND HAPPINESS AND SMILES EVERYWHERE

wow literally everyone in the ed is in love with him a teeny tiny bit

because he has such a bright and positive aura around him that its hard not to feel happy 

sings to the smol children if they get scared 

everyone always asks him to sing at work parties and he kills it every time despite being initially shy

“wait wait wait you were in a rock band in high school???”

has a crush on the ed secretary out front

its so fucking cute the rest of the ed ships them so much

sometimes he doubts himself and his skills and that makes his day very sad

but everyone in the ed is in love with him and will constantly be there to remind seokmin about how amazing his is and how much he deserves to be here

and thatll make his day better c:

mingyu

ed resident

the Hot Doctor

wow everyone has a crush on him even if you dont you do

pray for the patients that get assigned to both mingyu and jun your in for a visual attack

tho the facade for mingyu usually breaks after a minute of meeting him

clumsy af yo

once knocked over the patients entire tray of food because his limbs were longer than he remembered

sometimes forgets to put on hand sanitizer and seungcheol always yells at him about

from the other side of the ed “MINGYU, HANDS”

“THANKS HYUNG”

always brings his own lunch bc hospital foods shit and he makes better food at home 

sometimes brings in cookies for the staff in the break room

theyre usually gone within an hour

minghao

trauma and emergency medicine fellow

TALENTED

was personally scouted by hospital officials in china

really young to be such an expert in his field

also his hands are really sensitive to abnormalities in the human body so he feels out the situation and catches the situation really early

is kinda intimidating because of his rbf and takes no shit approach

but is really super soft and fluffy once not in a work environment

relied on jun a lot in terms of adjustment here in korea, and he’s probably closest to him in the ed 

has jun scrub in with him for surgeries sometimes

objectively has the best surgery playlists

from pink floyd, to an obscure japanese indie rock

bickers with mingyu a lot of proper treatment of patients

usually theyre both right tho they just cant communicate effectively

is secretly seeing another chinese surgeon from plastics, but they hide it really well except from jun ofc

seungkwan

nurse

a really loud and mouthy one at that

nags everyone in the ed a lot despite not being the charge nurse

tho hes getting there and everyone knows it 

despite that, hes really sweet and caring towards patients 

is also really weak for kids, but he cant ever be assigned to them because he’ll freak out if something happens to them

always earns high marks on nurse feedback forms because he does his job AND is entertaining 

even tho he nags everyone else, sometimes hes too selfless and forgets to take care of himself

“did you forget your lunch? aiii how could you do that? here take mine”

“seungkwan you need to eat to”

“i said take it, now eat and make your mom proud”

cries and often laments how much he loves his staff when hes had a little too much to drink at work parties

hansol

a new nurse

really chill, vibin through life

is really a much appreciated presence to have around the ed, especially when things can become hectic really quickly

often acts as a translator between english and korean 

will laugh at pretty much anything (which wonwoo appreciates alot because at least someone likes his jokes)

one thing that always gets his blood boiling is the blatant ignorance some patients have

like the offhanded racism against him or his coworkers, or comments about lgbtq+ people 

and there have been times when he hasnt been able to control how he responds because wow he Dislikes ignorant people

so whenever he gets a patient like that, he often asks to switch with another nurse because “if i have to listen to karen say something racist about jun or minghao again im gonna lose my fucking mind”

med students usually hang around him bc of how approachable he is

shower thoughts

“do you ever wonder this would taste like”

“hansol dont-”

chan

med student in his final year

is really eager to learn and get started on things!

ed is his first choice for match day

soonyoung has taken him under his wing so he mainly just shadows him

and its always a fun and great time chan has learned so much from him 

the entire ed staff has adopted him and will riot if he doesnt get accepted on match day

“chan, whos baby are you?”

“for the last time hyung IM TWENTY SEVEN”

if hes not shadowing soonyoung, hes probably studying in the break rooms with hansol throwing popcorn at him

“hyung stop im tryna study”

“ok but catch this in your mouth first”

still has a lot to learn, but hes out there conquering the world of medicine yall better watch out

[stereostevie]

A brutal childhood, a traumatic marriage, decades of racism: the singer has overcome it all on her way to the top. She lets rip about the people who have wronged her and the self-belief that sustains her.

It is a rainy Thursday afternoon and Mariah Carey is talking to me from her home in Los Angeles, her voice coming through my laptop. Is this the real life or is this just fantasy? (Sweet, sweet fantasy …) “Hello, good morning, good afternoon, this is a little unusual,” says a gravelly voiced Carey. You’re telling me, Mariah.

We are talking by video chat, but – as specified by Carey – without the video turned on, so it is pure chat. Despite her ability to hit the high notes, Carey has always described herself as an alto. Yet even taking that into account, her voice today sounds pretty husky. Is she feeling OK?

“It’s 6am here, and I’m awake in the bright light and it’s fabulous and I love it,” she says and makes an exaggerated groan.

I’m sorry you had to get up so early for this interview, I say.

“Well, darling, then let’s not book interviews at 6am if you’re worried! But please, it’s not you,” she says, and indeed it isn’t. The time and date of our interview have moved around so many times to accommodate Carey’s ever-shifting schedule that, for a while, it looked as if it wouldn’t happen at all. But at the last minute, it was decided we would talk at 6am her time, which I was promised would be fine because Carey is a self-described “nocturnal person”, so that would be 6pm for her. Alas, for reasons too complicated to get into, for one night only, Carey was a non-nocturnal person, so now 6am is just 6am.

“Typically I would have been working [all night] until now, but we had a situation and I couldn’t. Then I tried to get some sleep, but actually I watched the interview I did with Oprah. But it’s OK, it was just one night [of no sleep] and here I am,” she says. You don’t become one of the most successful singer-songwriters of all time – she has sold more than 200m records, and only the Beatles have had more US No 1 songs – without being a trouper.

Carey, 50, has spent lockdown with her nine-year-old twins, Monroe, named for Carey’s hero, Marilyn Monroe, and Moroccan, named partly for one of her favourite rooms in one of her houses, the Moroccan room, “where so many creative and magical moments have happened, including Nick presenting me with my candy bling”. Nick is Nick Cannon, the twins’ father, and “candy bling” is Carey’s term for her engagement ring, which Cannon hid inside a sweet before proposing. Carey liked Cannon’s proposal so much that she even wrote a song about it, called Candy Bling. The marriage proved less enduring and the couple divorced in 2016.

“Honestly, I don’t miss anyone outside, so I don’t care about lockdown,” she says with a throaty laugh. “But it’s difficult for the kids, because they’re used to three-times-a-year Disney World moments and stuff like that, and that’s just not the current state of affairs.” It is not. So Carey is conducting the promotional tour for her memoir, The Meaning of Mariah Carey, from her kitchen table, and if she has her way – and who would dare to argue? – this will be the last round of interviews she ever does.

“No offence to doing interviews, but what would be the point? I can’t articulate it better than I already have [in the book]. From now on, I’m like, ‘Please refer to page 29,’ you know what I mean?” she says. Carey’s deliciously shady put-downs are legend: her “I don’t know her”, when asked almost two decades ago about Jennifer Lopez is still the internet’s most beloved diss. Speaking of Lopez, her name is notably not in Carey’s memoir. Instead, when recalling the hoo-hah that led to their fallout, when a sample Carey had planned to use on her single, Loverboy, appeared on Lopez’s I’m Real, Carey refers to her as a “female entertainer (whom I don’t know).” So is her official position still that she has never heard of Lopez?

There is a pause, then stifled laughter. “Oh my gosh, can you hear that music in the background? It’s Sam Cooke! It’s fantastic!” she giggles.

Not only has Carey not heard of Lopez, she cannot even hear questions about her, it seems.

Carey’s memoir is about a lot more than score-settling (although she makes time for that, too.) “I don’t think anyone could have known where I was coming from, because I was always very, I don’t know if it was protective, but I was cryptic about the past, let’s say,” she says. No more. The youngest child of an African American father and a white mother, Carey was three when her parents split up. Her childhood was threaded through with neglect and violence, not least from her older siblings. When she was six, she says, her older brother knocked her mother unconscious; when she was 12, her older sister allegedly drugged her and left her with creepy men.

“I think my staying up all night started from having such a dysfunctional family. Oftentimes, whoever was in the house was doing whatever it was that they were doing, and that felt kinda unsafe to me, so I started staying up,” she says. Another legacy of this time is Carey’s obsessive adoration of Christmas, because her childhood Christmases were so miserable. When she wrote the monster hit All I Want for Christmas Is You, she wanted, she says in her book, “to write a song that would make me feel like a carefree young girl at Christmas”.

As a child, her biracial identity made her feel she did not belong anywhere: she was so self-conscious about not being black enough that she wouldn’t even dance, as she associated that with black culture; meanwhile, white girls at school taunted her with the N-word. In one of Carey’s – and my – favourite chapters, she describes how her mother did not know how to look after her young daughter’s textured hair, so it was often matted. Carey would look enviously at the white women in shampoo adverts on TV with their flowing hair. “I am still obsessed with blowing hair, as evidenced by the wind machines employed in every photoshoot of me ever,” she writes.

One of the most painful moments in the book comes in 2001 when Carey is having what the press described as an emotional breakdown. (Carey writes that she did not have a breakdown, but “was broken down by the very people who were supposed to keep me whole.”) During this episode, she rages at her mother, who calls the police. The police take her mother’s side: “Even Mariah Carey couldn’t compete with a nameless white woman in distress,” Carey writes. Is that how she experienced it at the time, or is that how she feels generally, that not even she is safe if a white woman complains?

There is the briefest of pauses. “Those are my words, so please refer to page 29,” Carey says.

Race is very much the running theme in Carey’s memoir. This might come as some surprise to those who know her solely from the mega pop hits such as Hero and We Belong Together, as opposed to the more revealing songs, such as 1997’s Outside, which addressed her feelings of racial ambiguity (sample lyric: “Neither here nor there / Always somewhat out of place everywhere”). “I can’t help that I’m ambiguous-looking,” she says, “and most people would assume that it’s been to my benefit, and maybe it has in some ways. But it’s also been a lifelong quest to feel like I belong to any specific group. It shouldn’t have to be such a freaking thing – and please edit out the fact that I said ‘freaking’. I’m not very eloquent right now.” I ask if she was at all influenced during the writing of her book by the rise of Black Lives Matter. She dismisses the question: “Interestingly, this book predates everything that’s happening now, and the book just happened to be very timely.” In other words, Carey hasn’t caught up to the times, the times have caught up to Carey.

Despite her omnipresence over the past three decades, it is possible that you have not thought about her ethnicity. This, Carey says, has been part of the problem: from the start, she was marketed by “the powerful corporate entities” in a way that played down her racial identity. What made this even more complicated for her was that the most powerful corporate entity in charge of her career at the beginning was her first husband, Tommy Mottola, then the CEO of Sony Music.

Carey’s discovery by Mottola is the stuff of music industry legend. The then unknown aspiring singer gave him a tape of her music at a party in 1988. Mottola tracked her down, signed her and, a few years later, married her. She was 23 and he was 44. Within just a few pages in her memoir, she goes from wearing her mother’s busted shoes to work to living in a $30m mansion with Mottola, which she decorated with enthusiasm: “Though by no stretch do I like a rustic look, I do have a preference for tumbled marble on my kitchen floors,” she writes. Adjusting to the high life was not difficult.

The hits – I’ll Be There, Emotions, One Sweet Day – were unstoppable. The Mottola-Carey marriage did not fare as well, imploding in 1997. Carey expands at some length on her previous allusions to Mottola’s controlling tendencies, claiming he would spy on her and that she was effectively a prisoner in the house. In his 2013 memoir, Mottola admits his relationship with Carey was “absolutely wrong and inappropriate” and adds: “If it seemed like I was controlling, I apologise. Was I obsessive? Yes, but that was also a part of the reason for her success.” Carey points out that she went on to have nine hit albums without Mottola’s controlling obsession. She writes that Mottola tried to “wash the urban” off her, recoiling at Carey’s increasing leaning towards hip-hop and collaborations with African American artists such as ODB. “I believe I said ‘urban, translation black,’ just in case anyone thinks I don’t know,” Carey corrects me. Does she think that was just for commercial purposes, or was something else going on with Mottola? “In my opinion there was a lot of other stuff going on there,” she says.

It must have been pretty upsetting to revisit that period during the writing, I say.

“Yes it was traumatic, but was it harder than some of the other things I’ve gone through? Maybe yeah, actually,” she says with a rueful laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from the damage of that emotional abuse. But in my school of thought, you have to be a forgiving person.”

Carey is extraordinarily honest in her memoir, but the book is almost as striking for what she does not include as what she does. A lot of attention has focused on her confirmation that she did, as long rumoured, have a fling with the former baseball star Derek Jeter (“I’m not being shady, but he had on pointy shoes,” she recalls a little shadily of their first meeting.) But there is no mention of other boyfriends, such as her former fiancé, the Australian billionaire James Packer.

“If it was a relationship that mattered, it’s in the book. If not, it didn’t occur,” she says.

But you were engaged to Packer, I say.

“We didn’t have a physical relationship, to be honest with you,” she says.

And that is that.

Carey’s singing voice made her famous, but her penchant for being thrillingly, hilariously high-maintenance played its own part in shaping her legend. On an episode of MTV Cribs, she explained that she had a chaise longue in her kitchen because “I have a rule against sitting up straight”, and she has talked about bathing only in milk. Does she think she is high-maintenance – and, if so, does she think it is because she came from nothing?

“You know what? I don’t give a shit. I fucking am high-maintenance because I deserve to be at this point. That may sound arrogant, but I hope you frame it within the context of coming from nothing. If I can’t be high-maintenance after working my ass off my entire life, oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t realise we all had to be low-maintenance. Hell, no! I was always high-maintenance, it’s just I didn’t have anyone to do the maintenance when I was growing up!” she says and cackles with delight.

By now it is almost 7am for her and she is wide awake. I tell her I enjoyed all the references in her book to her enjoying “a splash of wine”.

“Oh, do you? Do you love a splash for yourself?” she asks, pleased.

I do, but I was intrigued by her description of a night out with her friends, including Cam’Ron and Juelz Santana, when they were all “high” on “purple treats”. What were these “purple treats”?

“A legal substance in California known as mari-ju-ana. It’s called purple because that’s the particular weed they liked,” she says.

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And did she like it?

“Are you enquiring for yourself or are you asking if I enjoyed it?” she says, mock coy.

I am asking if you enjoyed it, Mariah.

“No, I hated it,” she deadpans, then laughs. “I’m sorry, but it’s obvious!”

I have been interviewing famous people for a long time, but talking with Carey is the closest I have come to how I imagine it would have been to spend time with Bette Davis or Aretha Franklin. There are lots of ridiculous modern celebrities, but Carey is not like that. With her mix of slightly self-parodic ridiculousness undercut with no-messin’, true-to-herself honesty, she is a proper grande dame of the old school. A diva, in other words. It is a term she has laboured under throughout her career, and it is unlikely she will escape it, even if people now finally know where she is coming from. Does she mind the D-word?

“No! Who the fuck cares?” she laughs. “Honestly! ‘Oh my God, they’re calling me a diva – I think I’m going to cry!’ You think in the grand scheme of things in my life that really matters to me, being called a diva? I am, bitches, that’s right!”

The Meaning of Mariah Carey (Macmillan, £20) and The Rarities (Sony Music) are out now.

• This article was amended on 5 October 2020 to clarify that it is in the United States where Mariah Carey is second only to the Beatles in terms of having the most No 1 singles.

[mybiasisexo]

Secret 🤫

anon asks: 31 and 66 with xiumin please, thank you

a/n: okay but Minseok giving you soft nicknames like bunny???? rip me in pieces cause im reckt 💀

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

gif credit

Kim Minseok and you have been officially dating for the past six months.

You met in school and his calm aura and smarts drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Everything about him was so honest and inviting. He seemed to have his shit together, despite being a college student, which was something you envied, because you were over here being stressed from being stressed!

One of his downfalls was how hectic his schedule was, but you found it interesting how he could balance so many things. When it came to work though, he kept a pretty tight lip. You knew that he had a job that he considered a career and questioned him continuously as to why he wanted a doctorate when he was obviously already well established in a field and well off, but he would only reply with a shrug and change the subject.

You admired his hard work and well-balanced life, but something about him, despite how soft he was towards you, was off.

You figured out what it was one day while at a Kpop café with a few friends, and felt rather dumb when your friend ordered a drink that had a picture of your boyfriend on it.

“Who… who is that?” You asked. You didn’t really care for Kpop, having more of a thing for western music, but still, the looks your friends gave you had you feeling as if you lived under a rock.

“It’s Xiumin? He’s only from EXO, the biggest Kpop group in the world?! He’s so hot, huh?”

Yeah, you felt dumb.

Especially after you went home later that day and googled the group up, jaw dropping to the ground from all the music videos and pictures of your boyfriend all over the internet.

It took you a day to digest the news. Kim Minseok—no, Xiumin—was a huge Kpop star and had somehow neglected to let you in on that fact? You weren’t necessarily angry, you had secrets also, but none as big as this. Like, Minseok knew where you worked, had even sent you food while there a few times. It explained a lot of things though, like why his schedule was so busy or why he had a stamped-out passport. But then there was the fact he was hiding an entire persona from you, a major part of his life that he had kept you in the dark from.

He texted you the following night, wondering if he could come over. It was late, as it usually was whenever he had time to be with you, but now it made sense why it was always around this time. You told him it was okay and forty minutes later, he was knocking on your door.

He was dressed in all black with a hat and face mask on and it took everything within you not to scoff.

“Hello, Bunny,” he greeted with a large smile, kissing your cheek. Well, it was meant for your lips, but you turned your head at the last second. What? Just because you weren’t angry didn’t mean you weren’t a little annoyed with him. He frowned, but brushed it off as he followed you in, getting comfortable on your couch. He sighed with content as you hovered over him.

“Busy day?” You questioned. Not really sure how to bring it up.

He nodded with a groan. “Work is getting pretty intense right now, but I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d rather just cuddle with you.”

You gave in enough to crawl into his outstretched arms, basking in the warmth he always held, even while visibly exhausted.

“So,” you started, better now than never. “I went to a Kpop café with my friends yesterday.”

His body stiffened instantly, but when he spoke, you were impressed by how stable his voice was. “Oh? How was that?”

“Interesting, to say the least. I got an Italian soda that was pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was cute. All the cups had pictures of different idols on them.”

“Did they now?”

You hummed in affirmation. “Imagine my surprise when I saw your face on one of them.”

He was sitting up as soon as the last word left your mouth, the action drawing you upright with him. “I can explain!”

“I’m not mad, Minseok. Or should I say, Xiumin. That’s what google has informed me you also go by.”

He grimaced. “Bunny…. Okay, yes, I’m a Kpop idol, but this doesn’t change anything!”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you trusted me,” you pouted.

“I do!” He’s quick to defend. “I trust you so much! It’s just that, I don’t know, it’s been a long time since I met someone who didn’t know who I was! I found your ignorance refreshing! It was nice to not have to worry about that part of who I am. With you, I’m just Minseok, and I love that about you. I guess, I was afraid of what would happen if you found out.”

He dropped his head in guilt and grabbed ahold of your hands. “You have every right to be angry with me. It was a huge secret, something I probably should’ve told you from the beginning. If you want me to leave, I will. If you want to break up with me…I understand.”

You didn’t answer immediately, surprised he jumped to such conclusions, but he misunderstood your silence. He went to stand, but you held tighter to his hands, causing him to plop back onto your cushions with wide eyes.

You smiled. “Minseok, I’m not going to break up with you. I already told you, I’m not mad. I understand completely why you wouldn’t want to tell me. Having a normal life is hard when your job is anything but. So, don’t go. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

He grinned, leaning in to give you a wet kiss. “Does this mean I can vent to you about my day now? Because, I’ll be honest, I have a lot to get off my chest.”

You dragged him back down to a laying position, resting his head on your chest and running your fingers though his ridiculously soft hair. “Vent away, Love. I’m sure you have a lot of tea you could spill on your members.”

“Don’t I!” He grew quiet. “Wait, you’re not going to spread this stuff around, are you?”

“Honey….” You shook your head. “I don’t even know any of your songs, let alone your members. Who am I going to tell? I think I made it obvious I don’t really care enough about that stuff to really do anything about it.”

“True…. Okay, so today Suho, that’s the leader of EXO, my group, trapped us in the practice room for four hours and….”

The rest of the night was spent with him telling you about his life as a Kpop star until you both fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

[goatkingwc]

MASCOT WITH MENACING EYES Episode 2 of CRWC GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB,

GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB, The loosest storytelling Podcast in all the land, were we don’t let Grammar get in the way of a good yarn.

MENACING EYES by SEAN CONWAY

Freshly squeezed orange juice, beans, mushrooms, eggs and a stack of bacon drizzled in maple syrup. This was a regular breakfast for the farmer which is why he is bulging out of his overalls.Despite his size, the farmer is a unassuming man, living alone miles away in the back woods, only making the trip to town to sell his wares.

By the way he dressed you would think he was Amish, he probably could be Amish if it wasn’t for his 1955 Ford Pick Up truck and his love of beer. He wasn’t one for fancy beer, he only had one preference that is must be cold, refreshing, and American made. The Farmer loved nothing more than a few Coors Lite after a hards day work. The farmer does most of his drinking on a Sunday, he does extra work on Saturday so he can sit back and enjoy that afternoons football game reminiscing about his days playing all those years ago.

Devouring the last of his breakfast feast that could easily feed a family of four, he enjoyed his meal oblivious to the fact that menacing eyes were staring at him with murderous intent only a few short steps away. The farmer slurped down the last of his orange juice and set out for a hards day work in the fields, unaware that today will be his last day working in those fields if the onlooker with those menacing eyes has his way.

Ploughing through the fields, the first of many chores for the day, singing along with gusto to the smooth sounds of Billy Joe Shaver, George Jones and Johnny Cash. The hours flew past with heavenly harmonics echoing through the isolated fields.

It was time for the Farmer to park up his plough and enjoy a well-deserved lunch. Nothing exciting, just a white bread sandwich with way too much bacon and a drizzle of homemade barbecue sauce made from a recipe passed down from his grandmother. Sitting on his plough, tapping his feet to the beat of Waylon Jennings, and enjoying his heart attack in a sandwich lunch, blissfully unaware of the danger that lay ahead as the beholder of those menacing eyes spied on the unassuming Farmer from a distance.

The Farmer finished his lunch and went about finishing the remaining chores for the day. He feed the chickens, he feed the cows, he feed the sheep and even had time to change the shoes on his beloved horse Bo named after his favourite Auburn Football player Bo Jackson. Bo wasn’t a racehorse, but the Farmer would watch Bo in the field and daydream of him raising the Kentucky Derby Trophy alongside the only creature he considered a friend.

One last job before The Farmer could call it a day, and that was to feed the pigs their gruel. He wouldn’t feed them any ole gruel, because these weren’t any ole pigs. These were Blue-Ribbon Award-winning pigs. The Farmer would spend hours cooking and refining his gruel recipe until he had the perfect concoction.

The Farmer walked over to the barn to retrieve his gold star gruel for his gold star pigs, but on his short journey, The Farmer stopped, he had a peculiar feeling he was being watched, a strange sense for the Farmer who lived alone on an isolated farm miles from town. The Farmer looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary, he paused for a moment before he chuckled to himself. Paranoid thoughts were a very rare occurrence for the level headed farmer, but the Farmer wasn’t being paranoid, we was indeed being watched by menacing eyes that had murderous intent that had plans to make this the last day he ever worked on that farm.

Collecting the gruel from the barn and still humoured by his bout of paranoia, the Farmer pulled up to the pig sty in his 1955 Ford Pick Up truck, blaring his music as loud as it would go, the Farmer despite being level headed, had a collection of strange theories, he believed playing loud music for the pigs comforted then and made the meat taste better. A strange theory indeed, but whose to argue with his logic considering how many Blue Ribbons he had won.

As the day grew longer The Farmer had to struggle with the weight of his homemade gruel out of the pickup truck before he entered the pig sty. Despite his tiring body The Farmer still had a peep in his step as he enjoyed the music along with the pigs. He poured the gruel he took such pride into the troff, the sound of the Farmers home cooking hitting the metal troff sent the hungry pigs into a frenzy, bashing and crashing past the Farmer.

The Farmer’s large body was no match for the stampede of giant award winning pigs as the sound of the bones in his legs crushing drowned out the sound of the music blaring from his pickup truck, the pigs giant mass has crushed his legs and The Farmer collapsed under his own weight in agony, his screams echoing through the freshly ploughed fields of his isolated farm.

The pain was unbearable but he managed to crawl through the wet mud that was a mix of dirt and pig shit, and lean his broken body against the chicken wire fence so he could see the extent of the damage to his legs. The Farmer tried rolling up his pant legs, but his legs were so severely broken that the bones had ripped through material of his blood-soaked overalls. The sense that he was being watched overcome the Farmer once again, he was now face to face with those Menacing eyes that had murderous intent that had been watching The Farmer since breakfast, they’re eyes all too familiar to The Farmer, they were the eyes of Hog Brady, a runt of a pig the Farmer had raised since he was piglet, naming him Hog Brady for his hatred of New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady. 

The Farmer had grown to love this runt of a pig over the years even though he wasn’t a Blue Ribbon pig. Hog Brady though, had no love for the Farmer, watching him for years and years routinely butcher his family and friends and devour their corpses, and for what? A few blue ribbons from the county fair. This did not sit well with Hog Brady at all, he has waited years for the opportunity to exact his revenge on the butcherous Farmer, he was going to enjoy feasting on the Farmer, starting with mutilated legs.

The Farmer punched and screamed at Hog Brady, has hard as he could but he was no match for his vengeful foe, the punches and the screaming only forced Hog Brady to consume The Farmer faster. This once runt piglet was now devouring The Farmer as quickly as he could. The other pigs on the other hand, have devoured their gruel, and with their appetites not yet met, the Farmer looked like a plentiful dessert.

The pigs made easy work of the Farmer as they feasted on his flesh as they enjoyed soothing melodies of Tammy Wynette blaring from the pickup truck. It only took a few short minutes for The Farmer to be no more.

Spending hours and hours perfecting a recipe for his Blue Ribbon winning Pigs, it would The Farmer himself who would become a 5 Star meal for his 5 Star pigs.

MASCOT by NATHAN HULL

I had been summoned to the general managers office. A rare thing for a lowly team mascot, yet here I was sitting outside his large office trying to figure out whether this was a positive or potentially terrible thing for my career. Thinking back on the last week what I it was, good or bad that I could have done to land myself waiting like a nervous school child outside the Principles doors. 

“You can go through now” The uninterested receptionist sighed fiddling with her phone not even taking the time to look up at me. “yeah thanks’ I replied before taking a deep breath and walking in to meet my fate. 

Upon entering the room I shuffled nervously, waiting to be acknowledged before Mr Grandioso finally told me to sit “ Well well if it isn’t everyone’s favourite mascot” he said dismissively, lighting a large cigar and pouring himself a brandy “Make mine a double” I said with a  laugh trying to break the tension in the room. Mr Grandioso just stared unimpressed at me before continuing. “As you know we are having a terrible season, we are 1 and 11 and making the finals is now almost impossible, heads must roll’  

I wasn’t entirely sure what this had to do with me as a mascot, I mean all I did was run around in a large Goat costume trying to draw some attention away from the teams terrible performance each week, so I put my fist to my chin and nodded importantly “yes yes I agree” I said hoping that maybe I was about to be given a raise from Mascot to head coach.  ‘What can I do to help Mr Grandioso” I said reaching into my pocket for a pen and note pad, trying to look as prepared and confident as I now I assumed the other coaching candidates would look.

“Put that pen away Manfred, Im firing you” Mr grandioso sighed. ‘What me? firing me? Im the only person who actually does what there paid to do on game day” I yelled “this clubs a fucking joke a fucking shithole joke!’ I screamed making my situation much worse than it already was.

I lept out of my chair and was tackled to the ground by two of Mr Grandioso’s assistants “ listen you jabbering little cock sucker” he hissed “ you think I don’t know how bad this team performs? The amount of money I have invested into the most useless team in the history of this club?” he continued “If it where up to me id fire the lot of them but after the pre-season promises made the outrages spending spree the internal cover ups I need to at least galvanise the fans, so I’m placing the blame squarely on you”

 My head was spinning a moment ago I thought I was going to make the dream leap from Mascot to coach a feet only ever achieved once by Lucky the Dolphin in 1937, now however I realised I had lost everything, I was a patsy a fall guy a nobody. 

I slunk my way out of the stadium and over to the closest bar where I found Terry the Turtle drinking alone .Usually during the season id have no time to chat with our cross town rivals mascot but seeing as I was just fired I sat at his table and over a few drinks explained my situation.

During the course of the afternoon and a long chat it came to light that many mascots where feeling displaced and abused, and one by one we called the others eventually coming up with a plan to not only claim justice but also make us rich. The plan was simple I would take $2000 from each mascot and place a seemingly impossible bet that my ex team would go on to win every remaining  game including the championship for the year it was a $40000 bet put on at 1000 to 1 odds a $40,000,000 pay day. 

And so for the remainder of the season the plan was executed.  Mascots would tamper with play books and equipment disrupt practices, some even going as far as secretly injuring or poisoning star players. Doing whatever it took to ensure our bet payed off. And so it did we succeeded in fucking with the entire league and claiming a nice $2,000,000 each. Not bad for a bunch of no body mascots, once down trodden and laughed at we now where kings and I was the King Goat.

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[turtle-steverogers]

Sand Dollars- a Ralbert War Story

heheh hi guys im in college now and im posting a thing hello

also i know I KNOW that fugitives and titanium need some love

they will GET that love, i promise

ok ok now for the lowdown on this story-

warnings: none for this chap, but OH BOOY will there be some warnings in the future.  this is not a happy story

ship: ralbert, some kinda spalbert (but not romantic. its like,,,,platonic ish)

word count: 3228

editing: no, so plz excuse any shit

-

CHAP 1

June, 2006

Albert tugged at the collar of his uniform, inwardly cursing the stifling heat of the shaky boeing aircraft he’d been trapped on for the past fifteen hours.  A thin sheen of sweat covered his entire being and he pushed a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose a little at the short length of his regulation cut.  He usually liked to keep his hair on the longer side when off-duty, framing his face and curling at the nape of his neck.  And even though he supposed he should be used to the short, crew cut by now, he didn’t have to like it.  Besides, the longer hair suited his face better.  Or so that’s what he was always told.

The announcement of their descent echoed through the plane and Albert sighed, vaguely wishing he’d pissed one more time before the fasten seatbelt sign flashed on again.  The eclectic mix of uniform service members that surrounded him began shifting around, readjusting their seats back to their original positions and stowing their tray tables. 

Albert rolled his eyes minutely, realizing that he should probably do the same before some asshole called him out for it.  Everything always needed to be perfect around these people.  Dress right dress and all that crap.

But as much as all this shit gave him a headache, there was no place he’d rather be.   

His circumstances growing up had been less than ideal.  A dead mother at nine and an absent father at eleven had gotten him dumped into the foster care system with his two brothers (who he eventually got separated from and hadn’t heard from since.  Which he definitely wasn’t still fucking devastated about.  No, he was good at moving on and dealing with his shit.  Yeah, very good).  No less than fourteen homes later, he turned 18 and finally, finally, he was done being some fucking ward of the state.  

But fourteen homes meant just as many, if not more, schools.  And when you’re being shoved from household to household with nothing but a couple bags filled with clothes and other absolute essentials, you don’t really have time to do well in school or apply to colleges.  

The National Guard had sounded like a blessing at the time.  An absolute saving grace with health and financial benefits to last him a literal lifetime.  He always had been good at listening to directions and taking orders, so he figured he’d be a perfect fit.  And he had.  

Those first few years between enlisting and basic training had been some of the best of Albert’s life.  He’d made bonds to last him a lifetime, felt the thrill of having something that was his and he was good at.  He had found purpose where he previously had none.

Then three planes had gone and crashed into the Twin Towers and Pentagon and everything went to shit.

Albert and one of his buddies from Basic, Sean (who went by Spot, but nobody knew why.  Albert had asked once and Spot had just smiled and kicked him in the shin) were living in New York at the time, having moved into a little apartment on the Upper East Side.  The morning of September 11 had yielded one of the clearest, bluest skies Albert had seen in his entire life. 

He remembered waking up to a call from his squad leader, barely able to comprehend the situation through his killer fucking hangover.  He and Spot really hadn’t planned on getting hammered on a Monday night, but sometimes life in your early 20s just happened like that.

The next four days had been a blur of smoke, sirens, debri, and dust.  So much dust.  It had taken weeks for Albert to feel like the damn stuff was finally out of his lungs and if he still thought about it too hard, a phantom tickle would creep up in his chest.

He tried not to think about that week too much.  Spot and him had returned home around the same time, both in varying states of exhaustion and dissociation.  They didn’t discuss what they had individually been through, but an unspoken understanding of the nightmare they’d both witnessed had led them into the same bed that night, the need to forget shrouding everything else.

Albert and Spot’s relationship wasn’t anything that could be truly named.  They weren’t best friends.  They weren’t boyfriends.  They weren’t fuckbuddies.  But they understood each other better than anyone Albert had ever known in his 27 years on this god forsaken earth.  And in that understanding, the knowledge that sometimes you just need to feel good for a night went without having to be spoken.  Feeling good didn’t just mean sex, though.  They cuddled a fair amount too, which was strange considering how touch averse Spot was with other people.  During their first deployment, though, several long days had led to quiet nights spent in each others arms, where they allowed themselves to forget the horrors they were subject to witness and just be. 

They were basically inseparable.  So when the heavens happened upon them and they were to be deployed into the same battalion again, despite Albert climbing through the ranks and surpassing Spot by a fair deal, he had silently thanked a god he hadn’t prayed to since eight years old.

Leaving home was easy, mostly because Albert didn’t have anyone to leave behind.  Spot was already overseas, having left a couple weeks earlier while Albert finished up some things down at the Pentagon.  While being deployed sucked, Albert at least had Spot to look forward to.

The plane jolted, tilting a little as it made it made its final descent into the Tal Afar Airport.  Albert leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and white knuckling the armrests.  He was a fine flyer once the plane was up in the air, but taking off and landing fucked him upside down and sideways. 

He was just beginning to count his breaths, clamping down the rolling waves of motion sickness, when a low voice spoke next to him.

“Are you alright, sir?” Albert cracked open an eye, glancing sideways at the person next to him, “Not a fan of flying?” 

The guy looked...rugged.  There was no other word for it.  His black hair was cut close to his head, well within regulation and looking a little patchy at the sides.  His wide set eyes were sharp and calculating, glinting with something like mischief that would unsettle Albert if he hadn’t seen that look a million times over in the mirror.  He looked younger than Albert by a good few years and the lack of shadows in his gaze and on his face cast a look of innocence over him.  Albert remembered those days- when naivety led him to a false sense of security.  He had been untouchable; indestructible.  

“Only take off and landing,” Albert said, clearing his throat and putting on what had to look like a strained smile.  He pried his right hand off the armrest and held it out for the guy to shake, “First Sergeant Albert Dasilva.  Good to meet ya.”

The guy had a firm handshake and he didn’t seem to mind that Albert’s palm was a little sweaty from nerves, “Private Elmer Kasprzak.”

Albert smiled, “First time in the Sandbox?”

Elmer smiled, looking a little self deprecating, “That obvious, sir?”

Albert shook his head, aiming for comforting, but still sounding vaguely choked, “I just know the look.  Way too excited.”

“Oh,” Elmer furrowed his brow, looking like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not, “I’m just happy to finally be on the frontline, sir.”

“I commend you,” Albert said, wistfully, “It’s a brave thing to be doing with such a strong attitude.”

Elmer blushed, “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to tack ‘sir’ onto every sentence,” Albert assured him, “Some guys are really strict about that, so keep in the habit, but I’m not too picky.”

“Oh, okay s- uh, okay,” Elmer flushed deeper and Albert chuckled a little bit patting his knee.

The plane touched down with a jerk and Albert closed his eyes again briefly while it slowed.  Eventually, it came to a stop and the fasten seatbelt sign flashed off.  Albert reopened his eyes to see Elmer staring out the window, awe and apprehension noticeable through the look in his eyes and the crease between his brows.

“C’mon, Private,” Albert said, unbuckling and clapping the younger man’s shoulder, “we got places to be.”

XXX

Getting assigned last minute to a completely new battalion and then being shipped overseas two weeks later was not how Race suspected he’d be spending his first year out of West Point.  He didn’t mind really.  He hadn’t really had any true connections to his old squad and after his little incident with Oscar Delancey, a new start was appreciated.

That didn’t make the whiplash of deployment any less bittersweet.  

His nerves hadn’t stopped twisting since General Kelly had informed him of his new assignment, going back and forth between excitement and paralyzing anxiety until his gut was furling with both simultaneously.  But now that he was here, things were starting to settle within him.  This was his life now and it was going to be his life for the next twelve months.  Better get used to it.

He put the last of his shirts in one of his dresser drawers, casting a cursory glance around his side of the room, before eyeing his cheap, Walmart alarm clock.  09:45.  The next wave of soldiers should be arriving soon and with them, his roommate.

A wave of anticipation rolled through Race’s stomach and he grimaced.  He had yet to make any meaningful connections with his soldiers so far, many of them wary of having a new CO.  But he was a people person and this alienation was killing him, even though he understood their hesitation.  Part of him hoped that whoever his roommate ended up being wouldn’t hold the same vigilance towards him.  Maybe he could even make a friend.  Someone he could theoretically get a drink with.  Completely hypothetically, of course.  Drinking wasn’t allowed on base.

Sighing, Race grabbed his patrol cap, cramming it onto his head and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his desk.  He bounded down the stairs to his trailer and made his way over to the coffee line, nodding his greeting at a small clique of soldiers as he passed.  He only got a couple nods in return, and every single one of them wore matching, judgemental looks.  Race tried not to take it to heart.

The line for coffee took forever and Race hummed a little to himself, toying with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket while he waited for the cue to move at a snail’s pace.  Once he held his little styrofoam cup in hand, he ventured off to the smoking pit, draining his coffee along the way.  

Soldiers were beginning to arrive and Race lit up a cigarette, watching with casual curiosity as groups flooded into camp.  He eyed them, vaguely wondering who each of them was.  Who he would get along with.  Who he would despise.  Who would despise him.

He quickly got overwhelmed again and stomped out his finished stub, lighting up another to kill a few more minutes.

An indiscernible amount of time passed and Race kicked his last cigarette to the dust, pulling back the sleeve of his ACU jacket and checking the time.  11:15.  Damn, that coffee line really had taken forever.

Deeming his little break long enough, Race wandered back towards his trailer, heart rate kicking up a bit when he noticed that the door was propped open.

Steeling himself, Race climbed the stairs, knocking once on the door jamb, before ducking inside.

The person inside turned his head, peering up from where he was folding a few grey, regulation workout pants on his recently made cot.

He was wearing his ACU pants and boots, but his jacket had been discarded and with a quick glance around, Race found it draped over the back of his desk chair.  The guy was attractive- a sharp jawline accentuated by his pale skin and dark red hair, which was trimmed attractively, fading up the sides.  It was as if the guy knew from experience how to make the most of the look without pushing regulation.  His arms and chest were muscular, highlighted by the stretch of his tan, liner t-shirt.  

A charming smile stretched across the guys face as he straightened up, crossing the small expanse of their room and holding out a hand, which Race took firmly.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva,” He said, his voice smooth and a little gravelly, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Race smiled back, “Lieutenant Antonio Higgins,” he said, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, “I’m honored to be working with you and your squadron and I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone.”

Albert dropped his hand, turning back to continue unpacking his things.  He only had one large duffle and two small carry on bags and suddenly, Race felt self conscious about his two duffle and impressive assortment of other luggage.  

“Honestly, we’re just lucky that you were available to serve with us, sir,” Dasilva said, straightening his shoes by his closet, dress right dress, “Everyone was really bummed and pretty panicked when Lieutenant Morris fucked up his leg, so it’s great that General Kelly was able to get you on board so quick.”

Race crossed to his side of the room, tossing his cap back onto his cot and slumping into his own desk chair, “I was pretty eager to get overseas, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quick.”

Dasilva hummed, sounding a little surprised, “This is your first deployment?” He asked, looking over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows a little.

“Yeah,” Race said, ducking his head a little as he flushed, “Just got outta West Point last May.”

Dasilva whistled, looking impressed, “You musta done damn well if you’re already a Lieutenant,” he said, smiling a little challengingly, “and add the fact that Kelly sought you out directly,” he shook his head, bemused, “Damn, sir, you’ve got quite the rep.”

Race wrinkled his nose, “My so called ‘rep’ ain’t really getting me anywhere with your men.”

Dasilva shrugged a shoulder, waving his hand dismissively, “Don’t take whatever they’re doing to heart,” he said, “They’re all still upset about Lieutenant Morris.  He was a great Lieutenant and a lot of the guys are still feeling his absence.  They’ll warm up to you, sir.”

Race grunted noncommittally.  He knew that Dasilva was trying to make him feel better with his little pep talk, but the knot in Race’s stomach only grew.  It seemed like he had pretty fucking big shoes to fill.

“Aha!”

Race was pulled out of his spiraling worries by Dasilva’s voice and he looked up to see him holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Finally found them,” Dasilva said, triumphantly.  He waved them a little in Race’s direction, “I’m gonna go freshen up.  That fifteen hour flight always makes me feel grungy as shit.”

Race nodded his acknowledgement, watching as his new bunkmate exited the room and traipsed down the steps, leaving the door open behind him.  He could see him greeting other soldiers with a level of enthusiasm and charm Race could only dream to match.  His jealousy spiked even further when he got equally happy greetings in response.

Blowing out a measured breath, Race flipped open his notebook, toying with the pristine patch on the front as he vaguely studied the Arabic terms he’d been practicing on the plane ride there.

He was pretty good already, if he said so himself, with an impressive language proficiency score of 3+ under his belt.  But solidifying knowledge was always beneficial, no matter one’s skill.

A few minutes later, Dasilva bounded back through the door to their trailer, finally easing the door shut behind him.  He stuck his toothpaste and toothbrush back into his little hygiene kit and tucked the thing neatly into the top drawer of his dresser.  

Race kept his eyes on his notebook, not entirely sure how to progress with their conversation.  He was out of his depth- usually being the loud and confident one, but somehow rendered socially inept in this completely foreign environment.

Dasilva didn’t seem to notice his internal battle, though, and a moment later, he spoke up.

“You fluent yet?”

Race startled a bit, looking up, “Almost, I’m still working on conversational communication, but I’ve got all the basics in the bag.”

Dasilva grinned, seemingly not jarred by the sudden change in language, “That’s good.  Already something you have over Lieutenant Morris.  With him, we almost always needed a terp on site.”

“No need for one of those here,” Race said, switching back to english.

“Obviously, sir,” Dasilva agreed.  There was another lull in conversation, but Dasilva didn’t seem uncomfortable, “Do you like running?”

Race felt his stomach flip excitedly, “Yeah, actually, I love it.  Did track all through middle in high school.  That’s actually where-”  He cut himself off hastily.  Dasilva did not need to know about his little adolescent nickname that he still used unironically.  Not yet anyway.

Dasilva gave him a funny look, but didn’t push, “Great.  I go running every morning with one of my buddies before call.  You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” Race said, “I’d love to.  Who’s your buddy?” He added out of curiosity.

“Sean Conlon,” Dasilva stated and Race hummed, recognizing the name, but not having a face to put it with, “He and I go way back.”

The weight of the words seemed to hold something heavy, but Race returned Dasilva’s courtesy and didn’t push.

“Sounds like a good guy,” Race said, “What time should I wake up?”

“We usually go around 04:45,” Dasilva said, leaning back into his regulation pillows, “You’ll probably hear my alarm anyway.”

Race nodded, “I’ll set one on my clock, too, just in case.”

“Good plan.”

A knock at their door had both of them exchanging a curious look.  Race stood to get it and found a taller man with straight, cropped brown hair and a rigid nose standing at ease outside the door.  He smiled cordially when Race looked up at him and offered him a hand.

“Lieutenant Higgins?” Race nodded and the man shook his hand firmly, “Excellent.  Captain David Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sir.”

“General Kelly would like to see you over in his office,” Jacobs continued, sounding a little warmer.  His eyes flicked over Race’s shoulder to Dasilva, who hastily stood at attention.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva, sir,” Dasilva said, his voice hardening as he saluted.

“At ease, soldier,” Jacobs said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

They all stood in silence for a short pause, before Race awkwardly turned and grabbed his patrol cap.  

“General Kelly requested for me now, sir?” He asked Jacobs.

“Yes,” Jacobs confirmed.

“Alright,” Race placed the cap on his head and looked back to where Dasilva was still standing, “I’ll see you later, Sergeant.”

“See you, sir,” Dasilva smirked, “Good luck.”

Race resisted stating that he’ll need it as the trailer door swung closed behind him.

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag! and if you were on my tag, but changed your username, please let me know!

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[jilyss]

what happens in greece shouldn’t stay in greece

my take on “2 people I know who broke up years ago are on separate romantic vacations w their partners iN THE SAME GREEK TOWN and Im just sitting here watching it unfold on ig, where they have each other blocked. ”

read on Ao3

Lily stretched out onto the warm sand, letting it settle around her fingers and toes. Sighing happily, she shifted so that her head was resting on her boyfriend Blake’s stomach. His fingers moved to play lazily with her red hair tied back in a messy bun, and she closed her eyes, letting the sun coat her skin. 

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Blake murmured, and she could feel the rumble in his stomach as he spoke. They were on a vacation in Lindos, Greece, a small town on the coast. While it was still a touristy town, it was relatively quiet compared to the busy city of Athens they had visited yesterday. At the moment, there were only a few families and couples scattered along the beach, splashing in the water and enjoying the sun.  

“The best place I’ve ever visited,” Lily replied, falling into a peaceful quiet. But within a few minutes, she was already hot, feeling a light sheen of sweat break out on her skin. Sitting up, she pulled off her shirt, revealing a yellow bikini. “Do you want to go in the water? I’m a little hot.”

Blake shook his head, reaching for his phone. “I’m good. Maybe in a minute?”

Lily nodded, shifting again so that she was lying sprawled out next to him, and forced herself to relax in the sun.

XXX

Marlene was sitting next to her roommate Dorcas, watching the newest episode of the Bachelor, and mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when she saw Blake’s newest post of his and Lily’s Greece trip. She double tapped it, not thinking much about it since Lily had sent her a nearly identical picture a few hours ago to prove they were still alive. 

She tossed the phone onto the couch and stood up. “Lily seems like she really likes Blake,” she called as she opened the fridge. “Think they’re gonna move into together after their trip?”

Dorcas shook her head. “No way. I mean, she might be ready, but I don’t think Blake is the type to commit this soon. How long have they been dating?” 

“I think they took this trip because it’s been a year. I don’t think that was the ‘official’ reason or whatever, but yeah, it’s been a year.”

“Hmm,” Dorcas said, eyes focused back on the tv. “I hope Lily isn’t expecting anything.”

Marlene closed the fridge, holding a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Sitting down next to Dorcas, she propped her legs up and pulled out her phone again. “I don’t think so. She’s been warier this time around than with her other boyfriends. She always goes into everything headstrong, you know? Loves first and asks questions later? I think she’s trying to take it slower with Blake.”

Dorcas nodded, tucking her legs underneath her. “Hopefully Blake sticks. I mean, he’s a little arrogant sometimes, but I think he’s been my favorite so far, besides James, I mean.”

Marlene snorted. “Just don’t tell Lily that. She’ll blow your head off.” Dorcas grinned. Marlene went back to scrolling through Instagram, bored. 

As Dorcas reached for the chip bag next to Marlene, Marlene suddenly sat straight up, eyes wide and staring at her screen. 

“Wha - Mar, what’s wrong?” Dorcas said, tugging at the chip bag. “Let me have some chips - “

“It’s not that,” Marlene said, waving her free hand frantically. “Look at this.” She shoved the phone into Dorcas’s face. It showed a picture of James and his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, snorkeling just off the coast of a beach. Dorcas’s eyes flicked up to the location at the top of the picture. Lindos, Greece. Her eyes narrowed. 

“Isn’t that where -”

“Yes! Lily and James are in the same town.” Marlene bolted out of her chair, pacing anxiously around the room. “And I’m pretty sure James still has her blocked on Instagram, and Lily barely checks anyway. Dor, do you know what this means?”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “So what? The probability that they run into each other is super low, and even if they do, it’s going to end up in a big fight, just like every other time they’ve seen each other since.”

Marlene’s eyes flashed excitedly. “I’m calling Sirius, right now.”

Now Dorcas jumped up, reaching out to grab the phone from Marlene’s hand. “Marlene! You can’t just -”

Marlene jumped out of Dorcas’ reach, standing on the couch. Dorcas followed her, and practically leapt on top of her, laughing as she pulled her down and wrestled the phone out of her hand. 

Holding it above her head, Dorcas used her other hand to push Marlene away. “If we interfere now, it’ll throw both of them into a nervous wreck and ruin their vacations.” Marlene lunged at Dorcas, who stepped neatly away, grinning. “It’ll be much better if we let them just find each other. It’s a small town, there’s a good chance they will run into each other at the beach already.”

Marlene stepped back, eyes widening as she understood Dorcas’ plot. “What happens if they don’t run into each other?” 

Dorcas shrugged. “If they’re meant to be, they’ll run into together sooner than later.”

Marlene snatched her phone back and sat down heavily on the couch. “Fine, I won’t call Sirius. But, if Lily hasn’t seen him by her last day, I’m calling him.”

Dorcas shoved her legs off the couch so that she could sit down. “Deal.” 

XXX

At exactly 8:00 am, Remus’ alarm went off and four men collectively groaned. James, who was sleeping closest to alarm, tapped at the phone’s screen aggressively until he hit the snooze button. No one moved otherwise until it went off a few minutes later, and Remus finally sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “We gotta get going if we want to make it anywhere before all the tourists get there.” When no one moved, he pulled the covers off of Peter, who he was sharing the bed with, who instantly groaned and curled into a ball. 

Remus shuffled out of bed and pulled the covers off of James and Sirius, who reacted similarly. They had been out late the night before, at a local bar and had had one too many drinks, but Remus was determined to make the most of their vacation, so despite his hangover, he was getting up. 

Their Airbnb room was already littered with various clean and dirty clothing items, and when James finally got up, he had to sort through until he found a clean outfit. Head pounding, he got dressed and wishing that he hadn’t gotten so crazy last night. He hadn’t meant to drink as much as he did, but it had been a long time since he had gotten that wasted that he had let himself get carried away. By the time he was finally dressed, Sirius was still in bed. James chucked a pillow at him, and when Sirius didn’t even flinch, jumped on top of him. 

“James - urgh!”

A few minutes later, Remus was pushing everyone out the door, ready for another day in Greece. 

XXX

“Hey babe, look at this,” Blake said, grabbing Lily’s hand, and pulling her over to a vendor’s stall filled with tea bags and glowing candles. Instantly, she broke out into a huge smile. She had always loved candles, especially the smell just after lighting them. 

Lily let her fingers slip from Blake’s to pick up the one closest to her, taking a deep breath of the lemon lavender candle. She spun around, intending to show Blake when she thought she saw a figure pass by in the corner of her eye. Confused at the familiarity of the figure, she tried to step out of the vendor’s stall to get a better view of the person, but Blake stepped in her way, handing her another candle. 

Shaking her head, Lily focused back on Blake. She had to have been seeing things - the chances of seeing him in Greece, were impossible, and it had to have been someone who had a similar body type. 

“You want to get anything?” Blake asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Lily shook her head, still distracted. 

“I’ve got plenty already. Do you want to go get lunch soon? I’m starving.”

XXX

Later that afternoon, Lily had almost completely forgotten that she had seen her ex-boyfriend’s lookalike in Greece. But not quite. Every dark-haired stranger that was taller than her caught her eye for the rest of the day, but finally, after dinner when they had wandered down to the beach to watch the sunset, she managed to forget about it as she stepped side by side with Blake. 

They had just sat down on a pier bench, with a view of the boardwalk and the beach in front of them, when Blake cleared his throat. “Can we talk for a minute?” 

Lily gave him a questioning look, suddenly nervous. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

Blake glanced at his hands, which were twisting in his lap and cleared his throat again. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking… about us.” Lily’s heart rate skyrocketed, and she couldn’t breathe. Blake reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, but didn’t open it. “A lot of people wanted me to propose on this trip. But you - I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.” He laughed lightly. “But I am ready to make a promise and move in together. I love you, and I know it’s cheesy or whatever - but I know how I feel about you, and I know where I want us to end up.” 

Lily gasped as he opened the velvet box to reveal a small diamond encased in a silver ring. He held the ring out to her, and Lily took a deep breath. 

Unbidended, a memory of the man she thought she had seen earlier popped back into her head. Late one night, she and the man she had been almost positive she was going to marry, had snuck to the top of a building and stayed until the sun had gone down. Wrapped in a blanket together, and laughing together was the happiest Lily had ever felt. 

“Lily?” Blake’s voice brought her back to the present, and she rapidly blinked away the image of James’ unruly black hair and sparkling eyes. “Are you ok?”

Lily smiled, trying to shake off the weird feeling surrounding her. “Yeah, you just surprised me.” She took Blake’s free hand and squeezed it tightly. “I think a promise ring is a great idea. Um…” 

He raised an eyebrow as she trailed off. “Is something wrong?” 

Lily bit her lip, glancing up at him. “I don’t want to put the ring on my ring finger if that’s alright with you? You know how my friends are, and I still want to take this slow so -”

“Oh yeah, of course. I wouldn’t expect you to.” Blake grabbed her right hand and put the ring on her ring finger. “We’re taking it slow, I know.” 

Lily pulled him in for a kiss, taking her time to show him how much she appreciated the gesture. The longer kiss was definitely not because she had thought of her ex-boyfriend when she thought her current boyfriend was proposing and she felt guilty. 

XXX

Earlier that afternoon, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had rented bikes to go up and down the boardwalk as the sun had gone down. The cool air from the ocean mixing with the heat of the day had made everything seem calm and peaceful amongst an orange sky. Letting the wind push their backs, they took their time biking home. 

XXX

Blake stood up, grabbing Lily’s hand. “Let’s go back to the hotel?” He whispered in her ear, sending goosebumps down her arm. Lily nodded, laying her head on his shoulder as they began the walk back. His fingers wandered down her back, and although at any other time Lily would have loved the attention, tonight, she couldn’t stop comparing Blake with James, and she hated herself for it. The unwanted memory that had popped up had brought emotions she had forgotten about to the surface, and the whole reason she was taking it so slow with Blake in the first place. Pushing the thoughts aside once again, she planted a kiss on Blake’s cheek. 

XXX

Sirius brought his bike to a screeching halt, nearly causing Remus to crash into him. As the rest of them stopped, he reached out with one hand to get James’ attention. “Is that Evans?”

“What?” Peter asked. “Are you out of your mind? We’re in Greece.”

“No, no - over there, by that bench. Is that Evans?”

James’ heart rate quickened, and his breath caught as he caught sight of Lily Evans. There was no doubt in his mind that that was her. Her red hair caught in the golden hour lighting, and her skirt swished around her long legs that he knew so well. Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “Nope, not her.” 

Sirius shot him a pained look. “That’s Evans.” He sat back on his bike and stood up to pedal. “I’m going to go say hi. Oi, Evans!”

“No, Sirius! No!” James called after him, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. “You can’t -”

But it was too late. Lily glanced over her shoulder and spotted the Sirius pedaling towards her, and the three men standing sheepishly behind him. 

“Sirius? What are you doing here?” Lily detached herself from Blake, only holding onto his hand now. As her eyes took in the four men that used to be her best friends, her heart twisted painfully in her chest. When James and Lily had first broken up, they had done their best to stay in touch, but it had gotten too hard for Lily to stay near James, and she had eventually stopped returning their calls. 

“I just couldn’t stay away, Evans,” Sirius smirked, stopping right next to them. He glanced over at Blake and stuck out his hand. “Sirius, Lily’s former friend.”

“I’m Blake, Lily’s boyfriend.” Blake tightened his grip on Lily’s hand, pulling her closer, but shook Sirius’ hand. 

James, Peter, and Remus made their way over, and each introduced themselves to Blake. “How’ve you been, Lily? We haven’t seen much of you lately,” Remus asked. 

“Good!” Lily said quickly, trying to break the awkward tension that hung around them. “I got a new job at Time, so I’m keeping busy.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Peter asked. 

James looked away from Blake and Lily, having not said much. They had broken up over a year ago, and he had gotten over her, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt that she had a boyfriend, and especially since he still couldn’t bring himself to date seriously. 

“Couple’s getaway,” Blake said, kissing her cheek and pulled her even closer. Lily tried to smile, but no longer felt comfortable with him in front of her former friends. “What about you?”

“Remus just finished up his medical school, and the rest of us decided to take a vacation before he went into residency,” Peter said.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Evans?” Sirius blurted out, eyeing Lily and Blake carefully.  

“Um, yeah sure.” Lily let go of Blake, sending him a quick smile, and followed Sirius a distance off to the side, leaving Blake with the three other men. 

“What’s up?” Lily said, folding her arms and watching Sirius carefully. Knowing him, she knew he wasn’t going to be gentle, so she prepared herself for whatever blunt fact he threw at her. Not being one to hold back, Sirius started talking immediately.

“What’s up with you and Blake? Are you guys engaged?” 

Lily shook her head, holding up her right hand. “Promised, I guess. As of today.”

“Hasn’t it been a year?” 

Lily frowned. “A year isn’t a very long time -”

“And yet when you were with James you were ready to say yes within a year. What’s the difference?”

Lily shrugged. “I guess I learned my lesson. I need more time.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “That’s bullshit, Lily, and you know it. What’s Blake holding out for?”

“It’s not him that holding out, it’s me,” Lily whispered, her eyes suddenly stinging. Sirius always had a way of making all her emotions come out at once with his honesty. “I’m just not ready for the next step.”

“You mean he’s not James?” 

Lily glared at him. “What are you trying to do Sirius? James and I broke up because James freaked out over marriage, and said he was never ready to get married and didn’t want any type of long term commitment.”

Sirius shrugged. “I’m not trying to do anything. All I know is that it’s been over a year, and James still barely smiles or goes on any dates. You got a boyfriend three months later, Marlene says you aren’t as happy as you were with James, and you don’t even talk to us anymore.”

Lily let a single tear slip out and brushed it away angrily. She looked over her shoulder, at James and Blake, standing side by side, talking politely. “You know I couldn’t hang out with you guys anymore because James is always there.”

Sirius was quiet for a minute. “Come back, Lily.”

“What?” Lily choked out, brushing back another tear. 

“Ditch Blake. You and James are meant to be.” 

Lily swallowed hard. “You’re talking for James? If he wants this, he should man up and come talk to me himself.”

“No, I’m not… he’s not - look all I’m saying is that-”

“I’m with Blake now,” Lily said firmly, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “James and I are over. I’m not sure how we ended up here, at the same time, but I would really like to just… not see James again.”

Sirius shrugged, turning on his heel. “Fine.”

As they rejoined the group, Blake tucked Lily under his arm. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” Lily said, sneaking a glance at James, who was staring at the ground. She waved at Remus and Peter, both standing with their hands shoved in their pockets. “I’ll see you later, I guess.” 

They murmured their goodbyes, and then Lily and Blake walked quickly away. As they made their way to the hotel room, Lily checked her phone and saw that Marlene had called her. 

“Hey, Marly called, I’ll be right in,” She told Blake, and made her way down the elevator and into the hotel lobby before she called. 

“Hey Mar, did you call me?”

“Yeah, Sirius just called me. Said you might need some help. What’s up?” 

“Huh, that’s surprising coming from Sirius. Did he tell you what happened?” Lily collapsed heavily on a plush red chair. 

“That you saw each other on the boardwalk in Greece, but that was it.”

“He thinks I should get back together with James.”

“What?” Marlene shrieked so loudly that Lily had to pull the phone away from her ear. “James wants to get back together?”

“No, no. At least, I don’t think so. Did you tell Sirius that I’m not happy?”

The other end of the line was quiet. 

“Marlene.” 

“Ok, don’t get mad at me, but he called like two months ago? Just to catch up, you know, and I might have mentioned that you were happier with James than you are with Blake.”

Lily wanted to reach through the phone and strangle Marlene. “What does that even mean?” 

“It means that Blake is nice and all, but you and James… you guys were just meant for each other.”

Lily groaned, leaning back, and kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “I’m so confused Marlene.”

“Wait, you’re actually considering this?”

“No, yes, well, no, definitely not, but I thought I saw James earlier today, and then Blake gave me a promise ring, but there was this moment James popped into my head during that and I haven’t been able to shake it all day, and I love Blake and I don’t even know if James loves me anymore, and I can’t just leave Blake because he wants to get married and James doesn’t and -”

“Lily, Lily, Lily, can you please just calm down for a minute? “Look, James wasn’t ready back then. But maybe he is now. And I know you love Blake but are you completely over James? In my opinion - Look, you got together with Blake three months after you guys broke up. I don’t really think you were ever over James.”

“You’re just telling me this now?” Lily sighed. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Call James.” 

“Are you out of your mind? While I’m with Blake?”

“Lily, sometimes you are too good for your own good.” Lily could practically see Marlene’s face through the phone, exasperated and impressed. “You can explain to him later. But you never know what could happen. If anything, it will get you some closure.”

Lily sighed again, sweeping her fingers through her hair. “Fine. See you in a few days.”

After hanging up, she pulled up James’ contact information and set the phone on her lap. She sat staring at the phone for almost half an hour, tapping her finger on it occasionally as the screen went dark. Her brain was a jumbled mess. 

When she had first met Blake, it had been an accident. Marlene had invited Lily to a party but had left twenty minutes in, leaving Lily alone. Blake had taken pity on her and talked to her for most of the night, and before Lily really thought about it, they were dating. Thinking back, Lily wasn’t even sure that she had consciously made a decision to date him, it had just kind of… happened. Obviously, that wasn’t the start to a healthy relationship, but Lily, still in a James induced post-breakup fog, wasn’t thinking straight. 

The more Lily thought about it, she more she realized that she hadn’t been entirely truthful to Blake, not that she had even known. At the beginning of the relationship, she still loved James, and if she was completely honest with herself, she still did. 

Admitting that simple fact, that yes, Lily Evans, still loved James Potter, gave Lily more questions than answers. What if James didn’t love her anymore? Had he gotten over her? Was Sirius right? And if Marlene and Sirius were right about James being ready to move forward, what was Lily going to do about it?

Before Lily could do anything, Lily’s phone lit up with a text from Blake. 

wya?

A second later, her screen changed, indicating a call from James. Heart racing, Lily picked up the phone, at war with herself over what to do. Squeezing her eyes shut as if she could block out the ringing, Lily tapped the green button and pressed the phone to her ear.  

“Hello?” She said softly. 

“Hey,” James murmured. There was some shuffling on his end of the line, and then silence. “Um, Sirius said you needed to talk to me?”

“That bastard,” she swore, sitting back in the chair. 

James breathed heavily on the other side of the phone, and Lily could picture him running his hands through his hair in the angry way that he so often did. “So you didn’t need to talk to me?”

“Um, no. Yes - I mean, no, not really.”

James stayed silent on the other end, knowing that she needed a minute before she could speak. 

Lily bit her lip again, bouncing her knee up and down. “Sirius told me that you haven’t been yourself lately.”

James cursed bitterly again and Lily instantly felt bad. She hadn’t meant to start so abruptly, and that wasn’t she even wanted to talk about. “He said that? Things have just been really busy at work lately, and you know my parents are getting older. I guess I’m just a little stressed. I’m fine.”

Lily nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about, actually.” She took a deep breath as if to say something, but couldn’t form the words of what she actually wanted to say. 

“Ok, I’m listening…”

“Do you still love me?” Lily cursed herself for starting so abruptly again, but kept talking anyway. “Don’t answer that. I mean, when I first started dating Blake, I still loved you. And seeing you today, and talking to Sirius, made me realize that… I might still love you.”

“Fuck Lily, I - you can’t just come out of left field and say that. You - We broke up over a year ago and I - you broke it off because I was scared, how are you still - why would you still love me?” Lily could hear James’ anger in his voice. “You wanted marriage, and I wasn’t ready for it, so you broke it off. And now you want it again?”

Lily’s throat clenched, and she swallowed tightly. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“Do you love Blake? He seems like a nice enough guy.”

“Yes,” Lily whispered.

“Then it seems like you have a problem.” James' voice was hard and cold. “I’m not your second option Lily, and you weren’t willing to just wait  -”

“What do you want now, James?” Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you still love me?” 

The question hung between them, fraught with tension and longing. It was silent on both ends, and Lily let out a silent, shaky, breath. 

“No. It’s too late. I - sorry.” 

Lily had to hold the phone away as she felt tears stream down her face. “Alright. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Bye.” James hung up, and Lily stifled a sob through her hand. The hotel receptionist sitting on the other side of the lobby cast her a sympathetic look, and Lily realized that she hadn’t exactly been quiet while talking to James. Wiping her eyes, she straightened out her shirt, stood up, and walked back to the hotel room. 

XXX

Lily was able to successfully avoid any questions about her phone call when she returned to Blake but spent the rest of the trip trying to stay as positive as she could. Two days after seeing James and Sirius, Lily and Blake were packing up to return home. 

As Lily haphazardly tucked the last of her swimsuits into her suitcase, Blake wrapped his arms around her from behind, lifting her off her feet for a second. Lily laughed, using one hand to push him off while she used the other to zip the suitcase. She turned around in his arms, giving him a quick kiss before dodging his next attempt.

Blake righted her suitcase, then turned around, folding his arms. “Is everything ok with you? You seem… off.”

Lily flashed a small smile. “I think I’m just a little jetlagged. It’s finally catching up to me.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. “C’mon Lily, I know you better than that. What’s really wrong? Is it the promise ring? Was it too fast? We can always -”

“No, no - I just - Seeing James here really surprised me. It kind of threw me for a loop for a minute.”

“Oh.” Blake took a step back, looking disappointed. “A lot of people told me that you weren’t over him yet when we started dating.” Lily’s eyes darted up to look at him. “I didn’t want to believe it because -”

“Blake.” Lily took a deep breath, stopping him before he could say anything else that hit too close to home. “Looking back on it, I don’t think I was a hundred percent over him before we started dating but I didn’t realize it at the time.”

“So… I’m a rebound?”

“No! I mean, no - I always wanted to be serious.”

Blake took in a big breath, leaning back against the wall behind him. “Were you only interested in me because I eventually wanted to get married? I mean that’s why you broke up with James, right? Because he didn’t want to get married?” Lily felt his eyes bore into her and she shut her eyes tightly. When she didn’t reply, he said quietly “Talk to me, Lily. Do you still love him?”

Lily’s chest felt like it had been wrenched open and her heart had been smashed to pieces. Because it was true. She was still in love with James, despite ignoring it for the better part of a year, and seeing him again had opened that hole in her heart once again. 

“Maybe we should just go home. I think we’re both a little jet-lagged -”

“Damn it, Lily, just tell me!”

Lily threw her hands into the air, shrugging. “I don’t know! I thought I was way past it, I was in love with you, and then I saw James and now…”

“You love James again.”

Lily stayed quiet while Blake moved to sit behind her on the bed. Voice cracking, Lily said, “Maybe we should take a break.”

“If you still love him… I think this is over, Lily.”

“No - Blake, I don’t - Give me a week, and I’ll-” Lily stopped herself. Looking at her current situation, Lily couldn’t see herself marrying Blake, and James wasn’t going to talk to her again. There was no way a ‘break’ could make any of this work out, and she needed to move on - from Blake and James - and accept it. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, tucking a strand of loose hair back. 

“Me too,” Blake said quietly. “Was any of it even real for you? Or did I just waste a year of my life?”

“It was real, all of it.” Lily smiled through her tears, standing up and giving him a hug. “I’m sorry it ended here.”

Blake broke the hug rather abruptly, brushing a tear back himself. “I’ll uh… catch the first flight back. Goodbye, Lily.” He grabbed his suitcase, gave her one last quick smile, and walked out the door. 

And just like that, Lily was alone, in a lonely hotel room, on the other side of the world as her friends. 

As soon as the door closed, Lily fell back on the bed, using a pillow to muffle her sobs. She cried so hard that she could barely breathe, gasping for air through the wave of tears and snot rolling down her face. 

It must have been hours before she was finally able to pull herself together enough to remember that she was had a flight to catch. Assuming Blake had already caught a flight, she was going to be able to take their already scheduled flight home. She pulled up the boarding pass on her phone and realized that the plane was scheduled to leave in less than an hour. 

Checking the time was enough to almost make her start crying again, but she was drained, and no more tears came out. Instead, she stumbled her way into the bathroom, where she stripped off her clothes and turned on a cold shower. 

Over an hour later, her face still red and puffy, she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in loose shorts and a t-shirt. She grabbed her phone, took a steadying breath, and dialed Marlene, who promptly answered. 

“Hey! Did you talk with James yet?” Her bright cheery voice made her burst into tears immediately. Trying to cover her sniffles, she tried to answer, but when nothing came out, she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. Marlene was going to kill her for it later, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. 

Lily forced herself to drink a huge bottle of water to try to calm her pounding head and rehydrate after crying so hard. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she evaluated her options. All in all, she really only had one: book a flight home. 

But like Marlene had said, sometimes Lily was ‘too good for her own good’, so Lily decided to add a completely out of the blue second option: not go home yet. She couldn’t go home yet - Marlene and Dorcas would want to try to persuade her to get back together with James or Blake, and would refuse to accept Lily’s decision for at least a few days. Right now, Lily couldn’t handle that when she didn’t even know what she wanted for herself. She knew she couldn’t be with Blake, and although she was still in love with James, he had made it clear that it was too late. And even if it wasn’t, how would they pick up the pieces of what they had together? 

Opening her phone back up to see eight missed calls from Marlene, four from Dorcas, and two from Sirius, nearly threw Lily for a loop again. She bit down hard on her lip to check her emotions, opened her browser, and booked a cheap hotel in Athens for two more nights. She didn’t have to checkout for another three hours, which meant she still had a little bit of time to kill before she needed to leave. 

As her phone lit up again with a call from Marlene, she glanced in the mirror to see that her face, for the most part, had returned to normal. She switched her phone to airplane mode, pulled on her shoes, and walked out the door. 

And right into James. 

“James? What are you doing -”

“Why aren’t you answering anyone’s calls? Marlene has called me three times now to ask if she’s seen you,” He said flatly, arms folded against his chest. His face looked tired, and his hair more scrambled than usual. 

Lily took a small step back, looking down at her feet. “Blake and I broke up. I’m actually about to head home right now”

“Without your suitcase?”

Lily opened her mouth, ready to lie, but she knew James could see right through her, like he had always been able to. “Plane doesn’t leave for a few hours.”

“Why did you two break up?” 

Lily leaned against the doorway. “We… things were moving too fast for me. And I wasn’t-” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “You already know the rest, I guess.”

“And now you’re just going back home?” His tone was even colder than before, and he looked angry. 

Lily shot him a look. “Why did you say it like that?”

James took a step towards her, lowering his voice. “You’re just going to give up?”

“What do you mean give up? I realized that I wasn’t being honest to Blake, even if I didn’t realize it. So, we ended it.”

“And that it’s?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You’re always the good girl, Evans, the one who always does the right thing, even when it hurts you. Why didn’t you just keep Blake and do the wrong thing for once in your life?”

Lily stepped back bewildered. “Are you serious?” Her voice raised a notch. James glanced down the hallway as a family walked by them, and pushed both of them inside, closing the door behind them. Lily continued. “Why do you even care? I made the right decision, and now I’m moving on. And for the record, I’m not doing the right thing here. I’m not going home.”

“What?” James asked, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. 

Now, Lily felt stupid. “I mean, I am, just… I decided to take a detour to Athens before I go back.” She paused, not knowing what to say next. “Why does it really matter that I did the right thing here? I’m confused.”

“Because - this would all be a lot easier if you just… stayed with him.” His eyes were downcast, and Lily suddenly realized what he was trying to say. 

“Because then it would be an easier decision for you?” She whispered. His eyes shot up to meet hers and he thrust a hand in his hair. He shrugged. 

“You left me, Lil, after one of the best years of my life. And you moved on so quick, and I thought I could never be that happy again.” When he looked up at Lily again, her heart wanted to break all over again. His face was so troubled and shattered, and it was clear that he was in pain. “If you were still together with him, I could have just checked on you and left.” His voice choked a little and he threw his hands in the air. 

“What do you want me to say, James? You freaked out - in a major way - after I mentioned marriage once, and then went AWOL on me.”

James tipped his head back, leaning into his heels. “I messed up, okay? I never pictured myself getting married when I was little because I was always with Sirius, and we never thought about the future. It wasn’t on my radar.”

“Then why were we even dating?” Lily could understand that he hadn’t thought it about marriage a lot. James wasn’t the type to get caught up in romantic daydreams, he liked to do things headfirst, and think later. But what had hurt Lily so much a year ago was that he didn’t think about the future of them together.

“Because I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen, Evans!” James burst out. “I’ve always loved you, and -”

Lily stood up, taking one small step towards him. When he didn’t move, she took another, and another until she was close enough to feel his heat. “Does it still scare you?”

James looked down at her, glancing at her lips, then looked up to the ceiling, tipping his head back. Lily held her breath. He released his breath slowly, lowering his head so that he was looking directly at her. “No.”

Lily didn’t move, not sure that she was comprehending what was happening. She didn’t want to make a move if he didn’t want it, so she stayed frozen in place, staring at James’ hazel eyes. James inched forward so that their fronts were touching, glancing down at her lips once more. An instant later, Lily grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her, crashing her lips onto his, and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down to her level. He responded instantly, leaning into her and putting steady pressure on her hips with his hands. Lily took a step forward, forcing him backward until he was leaning against the wall. She used one hand to thread through his soft hair - something she had missed more than a little since they had broken up, and used the other to feel the strong muscles in his back.

A second later, James flipped them around so that Lily was the one against the wall. He pulled away for a second to catch his breath and used his arm to prop himself against the wall, still inches from Lily’s head. 

“We’re really doing this?” Lily asked, letting her hands trail from James’ back to his front, up to his chest, and back into his hair. 

“Oh, hell yes,” James sighed, lips crashing down onto hers once more. Lily grinned at his eagerness, biting down softly on his lower lip. He groaned and reached down to grab her legs. She settled on his hips, pressed against the wall, just slightly taller than him. He used the height to litter her neck with kisses, and Lily knew that she would have more than a few marks in a couple of hours. 

James pulled them off the wall and lowered her down onto the bed. As Lily fell back, James stood over her, reaching up to pull off his shirt. He had just leaned down to kiss her, her nails gently scratching his tan skin, when he stopped. 

“James?”

“You were here. With Blake. In this bed.” His eyes clouded heavily, and although he was still on top of her, he lifted himself a few inches from her. 

Lily let her head fall back into the bed and closed her eyes. “I -”

“It’s fine, Lil, it’s not a big deal. Your choice of what you want to do with your body. But…”

“You don’t want to stay in the same room,” Lily finished. She sat up, and James rolled to the other side of the bed. Straightening her shirt, she tucked a loose piece of hair back. “Maybe it’s a good idea that we don’t rush right into this.”

He sat up next to her, their shoulders just brushing. “I mean, you did break up with him… three hours ago?”

Lily smiled, although a little guilt crept into her. “Almost four. But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“We’ll get back to London, and figure everything out there. I think we both need some time before we go back to how it was.”

“Hmm,” James murmured, leaning over to kiss her again.

“Want to go to Athens?” Lily said, pulling away once again. “I mean, I know we’re not trying to rush anything, but I did book a hotel and I already paid for it, and checkout is in shit - fifteen minutes - so -”

“Lily, hey Lily!” James cut off her ramble, laughing. “Yes, yes, I’ll go to Athens with you. We don’t have to go slow on everything.”

Lily gave him a devious look and kissed him once again. James pulled away, laughing a few minutes later, checking his watch. “I uh... I better give the guys an update if I’m leaving mid-trip. I gotta cancel a flight, tell the guys, and pack my bags.” 

Lily pecked him once again but stood up. “I should probably call Marlene and tell her I’m okay.”

“I bet twenty bucks she won’t forgive you for a week.”

Lily grinned, picking up her phone. “Hm. Well, when I tell her I got back together with you, she is going to literally knock Dorcas out with her screaming.”

James opened the hotel door, tousling his hair with one hand. He leaned over and gave Lily another deep kiss, and when he finally pulled away, he winked. “Poor Dorcas.”

“Hm,” Lily murmured, swaying into him as he kissed her neck. Then, laughing gently, she pulled away, pushing on his chest gently. “Go, go tell Sirius that I’m fine. I’ll call Marlene, and meet you out front in an hour.”

“Sounds good.” James kissed her once more. “See you in a bit.”

As James walked down the hallway, Lily quietly closed the door. She collapsed on the bed, picked up her phone and dialed Marlene. The sudden changes - breaking up with Blake, getting back together with James - would take some getting used to, but the instant James had come into her hotel room, she felt a thousand times more comfortable than she ever had with Blake. And with that happy feeling, Lily gathered the last of her things, checked out of the hotel room, and went to go meet her boyfriend.

read on Ao3!

[campdnp]

Neptune's Telephone Fic

These last few days have not been easy. After last week's news all I want is to be angry and sad, but I know that wouldn't be fair to them. You see, my best friend is moving and, despite knowing that that’s inevitable, I’m not okay with it. Not at all. In fact, I’m the total opposite to it. I’m furious. And that says a lot since I’m usually the calm one.

‘At least the weather is nice today’, I think as I stroll down the street to meet them. We’ve decided that we’re going to make the best of our last days together by checking things off of our bucket list. This was our plan for the summer before we figured out that we wouldn’t have that. We absolutely don’t have the time or money to do all of what we had planned, but at least some of it would be doable.

The first thing on our bucket list is to see the sunrise together. Originally it was to see the sunset and to camp during the night on the beach in order to watch the sunrise after, but time was not our friend. And that’s why I’m going to meet them at 4:30 in the morning. 

Just as I was arriving at their door, they came out. “Ready for this adventure?” I asked as a greeting.

“Let’s go before I regret and go to sleep again,'' they replied.  We started walking, heading to the beach in a comfortable silence.

We arrived there in fifteen minutes, as we planned in order to see the first rays of sunshine. We set the big picnic blanket they have brought and the snacks I made for us. 

“This is so peaceful and quiet, I wish we had more time to be together,” they whispered, like a secret no one could know about. 

“It’s just not fair,” I said. I could feel my face falling into a pout, but I couldn’t school my expression into anything more reasonable. “Why do you have to go?”

“I don’t belong here anymore,” they said, their voice soft and sad. 

“Well, I don’t think that’s true,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush with emotion. I usually keep my cool so well, but this was different. 

“Everyone else thinks so,” they said. They couldn’t even look me in the eye, their gaze fixed in the middle distance. 

“They can be wrong,” I said. 

They didn’t say anything, staring out silently across the sea. Light was beginning to creep over the horizon, the colours scattering across the waves, but I only had eyes for them. I was trying to commit their face to memory, not wanting to forget a single freckle when they were gone. They were too important to me. I wish I knew the words to explain that to them. 

“...beautiful,'' I whispered, thinking about them. "I agree, even better than a sunset,” they reply, not realizing what I meant. 

Before I could say it was them who was beautiful, they get up and start taking off their clothes.

“Let’s go for a swim! You brought your bathing suit, right?” They asked while running to the water. I quickly took off my clothes and followed them. 

We played in the water for a bit and dried ourselves off with the towels we brought. We start eating the breakfast I made and talked about funny moments we have had in the past. I can’t let them go before I confess my feelings. 

I remember a story from our childhood. “Remember when we were little and you said that we should marry when we were older so we could have sleepovers everyday?”

 “Ohh, yeah! And you said ‘can’t we just get married now, so we wouldn’t have to wait’!” We laughed together. 

I missed those moments from my childhood. Everything seemed so easy back then. 

“Those were good times. We always did everything together; I have no idea of how I’ll manage to live my life without you.” And we’re back on the melancholic talk. I was trying to make this day a light-hearted one, but I can’t stop thinking about their departure.

“We can do it. It’s not like we’re going to die or anything.” It wasn’t that, but it sure felt like it. “Besides, we should enjoy our time together while we can! Let’s make some great memories now so we can remember them later.” They were always so positive and full of life. 

“What should we do next?” I asked them. “There’s this movie I really wanted to watch with you, but that’s only in the afternoon. It’s quite early still.”

“Well…” they said, looking thoughtful. “There is something I always wanted to do.”

“Yeah?” I said, trying to look casual as my heart skipped a beat. 

“I always… no, never mind,” they said, shaking their head. “It’s stupid.” 

“I’m sure it’s not,” I said. “Go on, tell me!”

They just shook their head again, giving me a small smile. “Race you home,” they said, shooting off before I could respond. 

“Wait!” I called after them, trying to catch up. “That’s not fair! You cheated!”

They reached the door long before me, standing there with a smile on their face as I wobbled up, gasping and panting. 

“Not… fair…” I managed to gasp, before collapsing onto the floor dramatically. 

“I’ll give you a rematch,” they said, leaning over into my field of view with a cheeky grin. 

“No, I’ll pass,” I said, watching the world spin gently. 

Still smiling, they sat down next to me on the pavement. I lay still for a moment, catching my breath. They looked beautiful like this, the early morning sun casting them into a shining silhouette. 

“There’s been something I’ve wanted to say,” I said, sitting up. They were close enough to touch. “For a while, really. It’s just never been the right time.”

“Me too,” they said, with a soft sigh. 

“Oh. Well, what’s yours?”

“No, you go first,” they said, smiling. 

I paused, torn for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I… I think I love you.” 

“Oh,” they said. Their eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” I said, immediately. “Forget it. I made it weird, didn’t I?”

“No, no,” they said. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just…” 

“Just?”

“Well… I think I love you, too.” 

"PLUTO! I'm so happy" Tears started streaming down my face. 

"Don't you regret that now that we have acknowledged our feelings for each other we can't be together anymore?"

"No, because all these years that we had together gave me so many good memories that will last forever and knowing that you loved me as much as I loved you makes me feel so happy."

"I wish they wouldn't throw me out of the system so I could be forever with you. You’ll always be on my heart, Neptune.”

“And you’ll always be on mine.”

Hope you liked it! - Neptune

im SO glad this is nepluto thank you so much neptune

-brook