#Circular Queue
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Circular Queue . . Explore this essential concept of Data Structures! It covers key topics and resources for every tech enthusiast from algorithms to Data Structure. Perfect for learning and growth. Let's connect and innovate together! . . Check the link below: https://bit.ly/3YKTMrV
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Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?
#ive been super curious about this because people seem to have really strong opinions on the queue! so many people seem to HATE it#but i love using the queue! i dont really know exactly why i like it so much- i started using in like... 2016 and its a fundamental part of#my tumblr experience now. i think i started off just using it for offline hours so id hit most my american mutuals (/ for aes posts)#but these days basically everything goes in my queue (cept time sensitive things & like. current hype and original posts-#anything 'normal' posting is in the queue)#idk it feels. nice to me! i like to spread out my posting and not rb 30 things in half an hour and then disappear for the rest of the day#esp since my spaces are so circular- the same post runs on my dash a dozen times minimum. and i get to put it on ur dash a week late!!!#and its so nice to have small interactions with mutuals in incompatible timezones; to open up my notifications in the morning#and go: oh! my friends were here <3#its such a Part of the tumblr experience for me i dont think i could ever truly change now. maybe switch to timed queueing#but my availability changes so much i prefer to just. know i guess#but (i am so sorry for all that) im curious about how other people feel!!!!!! itd be so interesting to hear abt why people do/do not like i#i know some people like the experience of spamming and going. some people think it makes this seem to much like influencing or whatever#everyone has their reasons and i want to know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#nyxtalks#poll#queue#no see answers option because you must fall into one of these
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strength
just a quick lil doodle of a word with some fun symmetry!
#currently on vacation so not taking commissions again until late july#but you can email me to be placed in my queue#gallifreyan#circular gallifreyan#sigil#strength#doctor who
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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒
𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑
The movie marathon had stretched late into the night. You were sprawled on top of Xavier, your head resting on his chest as the TV cast flickering light across the darkened room. His steady heartbeat had almost lulled you to sleep when you felt his hand shift slightly beneath you.
Smack!
The unexpected slap to your ass made you jolt upright, nearly headbutting his chin in the process.
“Did you forget about earlier?” he asked.
You laughed, settling back against him. “I thought you might have fallen asleep and forgotten.”
“I didn’t,” he replied simply, his hand returning to your backside. This time, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingers kneading the spot he’d just slapped. The tender motion contrasted with the playful smack from moments before.
He pulled you closer, adjusting your position against him until you were both comfortable again. The credits rolled on the forgotten movie as his fingers continued their gentle massage, his calm breathing eventually synchronizing with yours as you both drifted toward sleep.
As the auto-play feature started the next film in the queue, his free hand reached for the remote, lowering the volume to a soft background murmur. His other hand never left your backside, alternating between gentle squeezes and soothing circular motions that made you melt further against him.
“Your heartbeat speeds up when I touch you like this,” he observed quietly, the subtle change in his tone betraying his satisfaction at the reaction.
You mumbled something incoherent against his chest, too comfortable to form proper words. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting your weight to better accommodate his frame, his hand continuing its ministrations with practiced ease.
“We should sleep,” he suggested, though his actions contradicted his words as his fingers traced the curve where your ass met your thigh. “Or would you prefer to continue this instead?”
𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄
Midnight had come and gone, but sleep remained elusive. It’s another day of Zayne had just returned from his grueling shift at the hospital, his tie loosened and suit jacket discarded as he prepared for bed.
“I need at least six hours of sleep before my morning consultation,” he muttered, setting his alarm.
You poked his side, deliberately disrupting his bedtime routine. “But I’m not tired,” you whined playfully, stealing his pillow and hugging it to your chest.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Return my pillow.”
“Make me,” you challenged with a grin, scooting away.
In one swift motion, he reclaimed his pillow with one hand, while the other delivered a firm smack to your pajama-clad backside.
Smack!
“That’s for being bratty when you know I need rest.” The sting lingered pleasantly as he settled beside you, drawing you against his chest despite your earlier antics.
“Sleep,” he instructed, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’ll have time for your games tomorrow.”
His breathing soon steadied into the rhythm of sleep, while you remained awake just a little longer, savoring the unexpected gesture from him. Despite his stated exhaustion, his hand remained active, tracing absent patterns along your hip.
He murmured against your hair, seemingly not as close to sleep as you’d thought, “You just have to be difficult before going to sleep.”
You shifted to look at his face, finding his eyes still open. “Someone has to remind the great doctor he’s human,” you replied softly.
His fingers tightened slightly on your hip. “Tomorrow,” he promised, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I’ll show you exactly how human I can be. Now sleep before I administer more persuasive methods.”
The implied threat only made you smile as you finally closed your eyes, lulled by his steady heartbeat.
𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋
“Turn around again,” Rafayel instructed, his eyes focused intently as you modeled the fifth dress he’d purchased for his upcoming exhibition. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as you obliged, turning slowly to give him the full view.
“Perfect,” he murmured, approaching to adjust the way the material draped across your shoulders. “This shade of green complements your skin tone exactly as I imagined.”
As you moved to reach for the next outfit, his hand descended without warning.
Smack!
The slap against your ass echoed in the spacious bedroom, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.
“Rafayel!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him.
He grinned. “I couldn’t resist, cutie. You look really good with the dress on.”
Your initial surprise melted as he pulled you close, his hands wandering dangerously near the spot he’d just slapped.
“The red dress next,” he whispered against your ear, releasing you with obvious reluctance. “Though I’m starting to think my favorite masterpiece isn’t hanging in any gallery.”
He retreated to his chaise lounge, watching appreciatively as you reached for the next dress, the memory of his touch still warming your skin.
“Wait,” he called suddenly. “Do that again—the way you just moved. Hold that position.”
You froze mid-reach, throwing a questioning glance over your shoulder.
“Perfect,” he breathed, grabbing the sketchbook that never seemed to be far from his reach. “The light catches your profile exactly right from this angle.”
You maintained the pose, feeling the spot where he’d slapped you still tingling pleasantly as he sketched, occasionally looking up to capture another detail.
“You know,” he said between strokes of his pencil, “I think I’ve just found the centerpiece for my exhibition.”
“A drawing of my ass?” you asked incredulously.
His laughter filled the room. “No, cutie—though that would certainly draw crowds. I’m thinking of something much more...personal. Now, try on the red dress, but move slowly. Every line of you deserves proper attention.”
𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒
Rain pattered against the windows of Sylus’s room as you lay on your stomach, engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite show on your tablet. Completely absorbed in the climactic scene, you didn’t notice his approach until it was too late.
Smack!
The sudden, sharp slap to your ass sent your tablet flying from your hands. You yelped in surprise, rolling over to find Sylus standing over you, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips.
“You look focused, sweetie,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just scared you half to death.
You glared up at him. “I was watching the season finale!”
“And now you’re watching me instead,” he replied, retrieving your tablet from where it had landed on the carpet. He handed it back to you, his fingers lingering against yours. “A considerable upgrade, wouldn’t you agree?”
Before you could respond with the retort forming on your lips, he leaned down, his voice dropping to that low timbre that always made your pulse quicken. “Consider us even. For now.”
He then left you to return to your show—though your focus was thoroughly shattered.
You returned to your previous position. Just as the plot was reaching its climax again, the bed dipped beside you. He had returned, two glasses of wine in hand, offering one to you.
He settled next to you, positioning himself so he could see your tablet screen, his thigh pressing against yours as if nothing unusual had happened between you moments ago. His free hand casually draped across your lower back, dangerously close to where he’d landed the mischievous slap, his fingers casually tapping your ass.
“So,” he said, sipping his wine and gesturing toward your tablet with his glass, “who’s the traitor? The brother or the assistant?”
You blinked in surprise. “You’ve been watching this show?”
His half-smile returned as he made himself more comfortable beside you. “I have my reasons for staying informed about your interests. Now, shall we finish this finale together?”
𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁
Steam filled the kitchen as you stirred the pasta sauce, following Caleb’s recipe while he chopped vegetables nearby. The domesticity of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, comfortable and familiar.
“Can you pass the oregano?” you asked, gesturing toward the spice rack.
“Sure thing,” he replied, stepping behind you to reach for the herb.
As his hand extended past you toward the rack, his other hand made its move.
Smack!
The slap to your backside was anything but gentle, causing you to drop the wooden spoon into the sauce. Before you could react, he dissolved into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Your face!” he managed between chuckles, handing you the oregano as promised. “I’ve been waiting all day for the perfect moment.”
“Caleb! You—” You shook your head as you accepted the spice—and the fate of your ass. “Was it worth the wait?”
“Absolutely,” he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before returning to his chopping board. “Dinner might be worth the wait, if you don’t let that sauce burn.”
You turned back to the stove as his laughter continued to fill the warm kitchen.
His laughter gradually subsided, but the atmosphere remained light as you both continued preparing dinner. Every time he passed behind you to reach for another ingredient or utensil, you tensed slightly in anticipation, unsure if another playful slap might be coming.
“Relax,” he teased, noticing your reaction. “I already got my revenge. Unless...” he paused dramatically, “you’re hoping for an encore?”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress your smile. “Just focus on those vegetables before I decide it’s my turn for revenge.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with an exaggerated salute, his grin never faltering. He resumed his chopping, occasionally humming a cheerful tune that matched his buoyant mood.
Smack!
“Just for fun, Pipsqueak,” he grinned unapologetically.
Okay… so… I kinda accidentally deleted the whole page of my Google Docs when I reached Sylus’s part, and I was just sitting there, like—😀💔 So, I had to write everything all over again in a bad mood 😭 I hope you still enjoy reading! ಡ͜ʖಡ
#∞Mission Report.#∞Full Orbit.#∞Mindwaves.#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#l&ds#loveanddeepspace#xavier#zayne#rafayel#sylus#caleb#lads xavier#lads zayne#lads rafayel#lads sylus#lads caleb#xavier x reader#zayne x reader#rafayel x reader#sylus x reader#caleb x reader#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace zayne#love and deepspace rafayel#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace caleb
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I'M WORKING LATE !
jason's too stressed, and too exhausted. luckily, you have a few ways of getting him to relax. rated 18+, mdni contains: jason todd x reader; grinding, handjob, blowjob, reader's hair is long enough 4 a ponytail

He hasn't looked up from his file in two hours.
Jason did this sometimes, got so engrossed in a case that everyone and everything else took a backseat. You learned early on that he doesn't like to be bothered when he gets in this headspace, getting used to tuning him out and going about your own tasks (aside from the occasional kiss atop his head or brush of your palm across his back, something he could never complain about), but you think if he stares at his papers any harder, he'll go cross-eyed.
He sat down to work two hours ago, around the same time you started making dinner. Not wanting to disturb him, the two of you worked around each other in a comfortable silence, him typing away at his laptop while sifting through papers, and you cutting vegetables and boiling noodles. In the one hour it took to prepare the meal and bring two steaming bowls of pasta to the table, he hadn't looked up once. You set his bowl in front of him, but you're not sure he even noticed.
In the hour following, you finished your meal, cleaned up the kitchen, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and packed up his untouched bowl of pasta for later, all before settling in on the couch to put on headphones and queue up your show on your computer.
Now, you watch him from your spot on the couch as he sits at the dining table, body tense and still as a statue, save for the occasional flick through the pages of his file, or a scribble of notes on his notepad. Seeing him ultra-focused was nothing new, but there's something about this night that has you concerned. The bags under his eyes are heavier than usual, his lips are chapped and raw from being chewed on, his reading glasses are askew on his face, and his hair is messy, odd ends sticking out from how often he drags his hand through it.
It's when his neck turns slightly to look at the notepad at his side and you hear the minute clicking noise followed by a quiet wince that you know you have to intervene.
From experience, you know this is something you have to go about subtly. At your harping, he's been getting better about prioritizing himself and his wellbeing over work, but he still shows some defensiveness when someone suggests he take a break. He won't admit it, but you know he feels guilty about taking time to relax when there are people who need his help.
You approach him slowly from behind, dragging your feet on the hardwood floor, a gentle alert to your nearing. Your fingers softly brush over his back, sliding up across his shoulder blades until your hands rest on his shoulders. He doesn't react.
You squeeze your hands lightly, feeling the tight knots in his muscles, and his shoulders relax a few centimeters. You repeat this motion, slowly massaging from his shoulders to his neck. He releases a heavy exhale when your thumbs press against the sides of his neck, making circular motions to ease the tension. You lean lower to brush light kisses over the spots you press into, and finally, his head lifts. He leans back, head falling over the neck of his chair to look up at you as his hands reach back to rest over your forearms. He wears a tired smile, and you drop your head to close the remaining space between you, brushing your lips over his. They feel rough from the consistent dragging against his teeth while he was deep in concentration, but nonetheless remain warm and inviting for you to press kisses to.
"Hi," Jason whispers against your lips, his voice scratchy from its hours unused.
"Hey," you breathe. Your lips travel up his face, kissing up his nose and to his forehead, each spot relaxing a little more as you kiss it.
Your fingers continue their pressure around his neck and he groans softly when you press into that perfect spot, finding the largest knot. You want to bottle the sound, save it to listen to on a loop for hours.
"Can you finish up for the night?" You whisper the words behind his ear, following up with another kiss brushed across the skin.
"I'm so close to the end, baby," he speaks softly, his breath warm on the side of your face. "I can feel it. I just need a little more time."
Your hands trail back down to his shoulders, pressing harder. "You've been stuck for forever. You need a break."
"Baby..." He sighs when your kisses move down his neck.
"Please?"
He leans forward, pushing away from your touch to look back at the work in front of him, but you persist, moving around to climb in his lap. Your legs straddle over his hips, arms circling around his neck. On instinct, his hands settle on your thighs, and squeeze.
"Please, Jay?" You whine, prodding your nose against his. "You're working so hard, honey." You drag your lips underneath his jaw. "You're so tense. Let me help you relax."
He sighs again, his hands sliding up to grip your waist, hips shifting forward to nudge against yours, and you know you've got him.
"I can't say no to you, can I?" Jason concedes, and you grin.
"No, you can't."
You kiss him eagerly, humming against his lips when he reciprocates. It starts off innocent, as slow and sweet kisses, before quickly devolving into something more harried, your heated breaths mingling through exchanged keens and moans. When Jason pulls back to remove his glasses and toss them on the table behind you, you mouth along his neck, sucking and biting and licking at the skin. At the same time, your hips rock against his, and his hold on your waist tightens. You muffle his moan when your mouth finds his again, hands sliding into his ruffled hair to grab ahold of the strands and pull. His mouth falls open slightly, and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips.
He's so lost in the feeling of your movement against him and your hands in his hair, Jason doesn't register the hand that slides down to his belt buckle until his jeans are unzipped and your hand has slipped inside to grip his half-hard cock through his boxers.
"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back as you palm him. With his throat on display, you latch onto the spot just below his Adam's apple. After a few moments, he pulls himself together enough to say, "Was this your plan?" He pushes his hips out to grind against your hand, his erection growing harder. "Seduce me into taking a break?"
Satisfied with the mark you've left on the column of his throat, you pull back to look at him. You tug at the band of his boxers, pulling them down marginally to slip your hand inside and pull his dick out. Your knuckles brush against his balls and his hips jump, releasing a small gasp from him. You tease him with slow, light strokes up and down his length. Your thumb brushes over the beads of precum on his tip, and a high-pitched moan falls from his open mouth. His gaze on you is something out of a renaissance painting, all rosy cheeks and devoted eyes.
"I don't know what you mean," you say, though the tail-end of your statement is cut off by Jason taking your face in his hand and bringing your lips back to his.
His other hand tries to creep under the waistband of your sleep shorts, but you stop him with a grab on his wrist. It elicits a needy whine from the back of his throat, both at your depriving him of touching you, and the loss of your touch on him.
"Sorry, baby." You push yourself off him, your heart skipping a beat at the broken noises he makes in protest. "But I said I'd help you relax."
You can see the change in his eyes when you drop to your knees in front of him, his enlarged pupils encroaching further on the teal of his irises until they're just thin rings of blue and green around black.
"Can I?" Your voice is hushed and timid, almost self-conscious at the submission you're offering.
He whispers your name, quiet and hungry as he looks down on you. You run your hands over his thighs and he moves to sit on the edge of his seat, spreading his legs further apart so you can fit comfortably between them. His hands, which grip the sides of his chair, are taken in yours and guided to your hair. One holds your hair back, and the other cups your jaw, his thumb brushing soothing strokes on your cheek as you take his cock in your hand once more. You stroke at the base while dipping your head down to wrap your mouth around his tip.
Jason is big, and no matter how many times you take him, there's always a moment needed to adjust. Slowly, your mouth works past the tip, each bob of your head taking a little more of him while your hand jerks him off where your mouth can't reach. His breathing grows heavier the deeper you take him, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and contracting with the effort it takes to not immediately cum at the sight of you sucking him off.
"Fuck, that's— baby, oh my— fuck!" His low, baritone moaning mixes with the sloppy sounds your mouth makes. His whole body squirms as he fights the urge to just stand up and roughly fuck your throat until he comes. "You're so fucking good to me," he groans.
The hand on your jaw brushes away the tears that form as you gag from taking him as deep as you can. The hand holding your hair tightens its grip, softly yanking the strands and you moan; Jason feels the vibration in his cock and whimpers, his own tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
"Baby, I'm so—" He cuts himself off with a loud, animalistic moan when you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick, followed by a flick of your tongue against the tip before taking him in deep once again. Your tongue drags against the vein under his head and he comes in your mouth, the hot spurts gushing onto your tongue as he shallowly thrusts himself through his orgasm.
When he's done, hands fallen to his sides, slumped back in his seat and panting heavily, you slide your mouth off him and hold it open for him to see what he left.
"Swallow it." His voice is low and gravelly.
You listen.
"That's my girl," he breathes.
He helps you to your feet and wipes your wet cheeks with the back of his hand before pulling you in for a kiss.
"My girl," he whispers again. His eyes sweep over you with reverence, and it's your turn to cradle his cheeks in your palms and brush away the hints of moisture.
"Are you done working?" You ask quietly. Hopefully.
He leans his forehead against yours. "I still have to—"
You give him a long sigh, to which he playfully rolls his eyes.
"I guess I'll just go to bed! All alone!" You exclaim dramatically, stalking away from him with exaggerated steps.
"I'll be there in a minute," Jason laughs, calling after you.
"You better," you tease. When you know he's looking, you lift the hem of your shirt and pull it off, throwing it aside and turning away. It has barely left your hand when you hear his chair scraping against the floor and you break into a run towards your bedroom.
You don't get very far, however, before he catches you. You squeal when he grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, both of you full of giggles as he carries you to your room.

cause i'm a singer....
so this is my first time writing smut why am i highkey nervous abt it this was supposed to be under a thousand words but girl....i'm still classifying it a mini fic tho not a regular fic bc i FEEL LIKE IT & let it be known i am a jason crying during sex TRUTHER
and um why was i fighting for my life trying to describe their positions in the beginning when he was sitting in the chair and reader was standing behind him. i still fear it's not clear so i drew it. hope this helps
#batman#red hood#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#batfamily#dc universe#dc comics#dcu#dc robin#robin#dick grayson#bruce wayne#damian wayne#tim drake#nightwing#red robin#red hood x reader#batfam#robin jason todd#jason todd smut
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SO excited for the results of this make me write. It was so hard to decide and I wish I could do them all but I think I will ask for 🤖🤖🤖 or ❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹 whichever you get less of 🥰
I've got about six other beep boop asks in the queue lol, so I'm going to go with ❤️🩹! Let's rewind to before the break-up. c:
♡
They were cuddling on Tommy’s couch. Tommy was behind him, hands resting protectively on Buck’s belly. He had been doing that a lot lately—holding him there, touching him there. Buck wasn’t sure if Tommy was aware he kept doing it.
Buck hadn't said anything. He didn’t want to call attention to it and risk having Tommy stop. Because he liked it. Okay, more than just liked it. His body was sending him strong signals about what the Alpha wanted, and it was making him a little stupid with need.
His heart sped up.
Of course, Tommy noticed. One of his hands started rubbing in a hypnotic, circular motion. “What's up?”
“I-I’ve been thinking,” Buck started, trying not to get distracted by the petting. His eyes closed. “I’d like to spend my next heat with you.”
“Oh?” Tommy said, after a small intake of breath Buck couldn’t really decipher.
He didn't say anything else, waiting for Buck to elaborate on his thoughts.
Buck had never enjoyed his heats. Dreaded them because of how desperate they made him, among other undesirable attributes, but maybe it would be different with Tommy. Every time they’d gotten hot and heavy with each other, it was so good, an intense burn that kept building.
Buck was used to being a service omega, but with Tommy, he hadn't fallen into that role. He didn't feel like a wind-up toy, only good for one use, one purpose. His world had been shaken and turned upside down. He actually felt kind of giddy, for once.
“Y-you said I could set the pace, but I also don’t want to pressure you,” Buck continued. “If you’re not ready yet or don’t want to, that’s totally fine. Or if we get to the middle of things and you decide it’s too much—t-that I’m too much—you don’t have to stay.”
That already went unspoken, but Buck wanted to assure Tommy that he had an out. He wasn’t stuck with Buck if he got too whiny, too needy, too clingy. Like he always did.
Tommy’s grip on him had gone slack. He was silent for so long Buck had to sit up and turn around. Tommy looked… kind of horrified, actually.
Buck’s stomach twisted. That was definitely not the reaction he’d been hoping for.
He backtracked. “O-or! Secret third option: We can forget this conversation ever happened and go on a fun date after my cycle is over. I was looking at this new sushi place the other day that has—”
“No.” Tommy let out a slow breath, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I’m just still trying to process what you said. You think I would leave you in the middle of your heat? That's ludicrous, Evan. Even if, for whatever reason, I couldn’t continue, I wouldn’t abandon any omega like that.” Tommy tilted Buck's chin up gently, eyes filled with sincerity. “Especially not my omega. Have past partners done that to you?”
“Uh.” Buck swallowed hard, feeling suddenly very off-kilter and overwhelmed. “Yes? I’m… you know, a l-lot to handle. D-difficult. E-e-exhausting. It’s okay.”
“Oh, it is so far from okay,” Tommy said. His scent had changed, no longer relaxed. Filling the air with an edge of bitter anger he was trying to keep at bay.
Buck didn’t know what to do, so he followed his instincts and hugged his Alpha. Tommy's tension released. He hugged Buck back. They nuzzled each other, Buck focusing on Tommy's scent gland.
“And now you’re comforting me,” Tommy added with a weak chuckle of disbelief.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Buck murmured, burying his nose in Tommy’s shoulder and kissing it.
“I’m upset for you, Evan. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. You're none of those things.” Buck made an involuntary sound, and Tommy squeezed him. “I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m going to show you what a heat is supposed to be like.”
♡
tag list: @chococara25 @lemon-drop151 @bidisasterevankinard @cannibalhellhound @theallyandhisbeast @loulou-land @harmonic-intervention @manifestingchaoticvibes @notacyborg @tedious-waffle @ginny-lala @figuringitoutaloud @monstertrucksactually @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @know1udno @styxhuntress @all-the-feels @perfectlyhopefulruins @espressopatronum454
#thanks!!#make me write#fic#911#911 abc#evan buckley#tommy kinard#omegaverse#bt omegaverse#a/b/o dynamics#bucktommy#bucktommy au#bucktommy fic#tevan#kinley#firebeast#firepilot#omega evan buckley#alpha tommy kinard#this got longer than expected...
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I keep thinking of the spider burger we saw a glimpse of in ATSV. What if reader was the one who started the whole Miguel Burger when she first started as a prank but cause everyone loved it so much she started a whole bakery of Miguel theme goodies. He of course hate everything about it… but does he?
I love your work and I love you 🥰
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader
Warnings: SFW, Fluff
A/N: Thank you, love🫶🏼
Unedited
You smile at the recognizable scowl that consumes your vision.
Miguel stands over the small area you’ve claimed in the cafeteria. It contains a display case the kitchen staff has graciously sacrificed for you and a barely used countertop. He towers over you effortlessly, but it doesn’t scare you or your baked goods.
“What is this?” He all but growls at you, eyeing the themed treats with disgust through the glass.
“My tiny little bakery.” You proudly say, chest puffed out. “Everything is made fresh daily.”
Miguel’s eyes roam over the treats. There are pastries that have his iconic blue and red pattern iced onto them, while others are dyed to sport his suit’s colors. They all look absolutely delicious, but he’s still butt hurt over the burger fiasco you caused a month ago.
“I didn’t authorize this.” He scoffs, his eyes locked on the sign sitting on top of the display. It advertises your pastry of the week: a cream bun that has Miguel’s mask printed on it, with four mystery cream options.
“The kitchen did.” You state. “If you’re looking for something light to snack on, I recommend any of the tarts or puff pastries.”
Miguel scoffs, scowl deepening at you. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.” You tilt your head, tapping your fingers against the counter. “If you’re not going to get anything, I would like to serve the next customer, if you don’t mind.”
Miguel looks over his shoulder, taking in the queue of people that began to form behind him. He sighs deeply, pinching the space between his brows.
“Give me a cream bun.”
You perk up, happily opening the display and packaging one of the circular buns to go. You close the bag with a round circle sticker of Miguel’s face, sliding it over to him. “Anything else?”
Miguel scowls as he takes it, scanning his watch to pay and tip you. He avoids the large smile you give him, turning away with a grumble.
“Please stop by again soon!”
#cherry's requests🍒#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel ohara x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel 2099#miguel ohara#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara fluff#miguel o hara x y/n#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara fluff#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel atsv#miguel fanfic#miguel x you
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#the people upset about Criston being Dornish are constantly stating Dorne is white so why does it really matter? (via @thewitchqueenofharrenhal)
i say ‘i’d love to know why’ but i know the reason people on twitter are actually weird about criston being dornish is that they view media in terms of overwatch diversity points and the team with more overwatch diversity points is morally superior. same as the alicent wasn’t a child bride argument it’s a concern to concede like. abused(5points) woman(3points) dornish(7points) lowborn(6points) because, if diversity is morally weighted, that would imply you think the greens are morally defensible or even superior to rhaenyra. leading to this bizarre refusal to acknowledge these morally neutral traits characters have. anyway clubfoot(10points) so unfortunately larys still 🔛🔝
#shots fired#shots absolutely fucking fired#house of the dragon#asoiaf#criston cole#dorne#larys strong#the greens#oh fandom#but yes. the hotd team deliberately decided to do more diverse casting with criston and deliberately chose dornish heritage to justify it#(they didn't have to justify it. could've been as unexplained as that black extra at rhaenyra's visit to storm's end. but they chose to.)#and it's perfectly feasible within the history of the stormlands dornish marches from war crimes to alliances (for example beric & allyria)#again. it doesn't *have* to be historically/“pure canon” feasible for the casting and character change to exist. but it is perfectly so#however what this means for a man who is immediately visually judged as dornish to grow up in the stormlands is never actually dealt with#and that's the *real* problem with the casting. maybe they'll cover it more in s2. maybe it'll be a reason criston is Like That#but the bleed-black irrational tb stans don't see it that way. like the op said they're obsessed with having their team morally justified#and they're also using these moral points as “proof” that the showrunners are BIASED against rhaenyra/the blacks#so anything they judge as having more moral superiority points is a sign of this bias (conveniently ignored when they have more points#because that's just because their side is Good and True and Real and also More Accurate to the Book and Should Have Won)#which is why they're also obsessed about proving alicent isn't a “real victim” - either by going back to her book age#or when forced to deal with the fact that the show is its own alternate universe they go well she HAD to be Made Into A Victim because BIAS#it's very circular logic. the fact that it doesn't fucking matter because per the book both sides were idiot war criminals and both lost#and no matter what they do or say the story will end with a dead rhaenyra dead daemon dead aegon dead alicent dead dragons -#none of this makes a dent in that circular logic and obsessiveness and conspiracizing#it's honestly depressing as someone who genuinely does prefer rhaenyra / the blacks despite the idiot war crimes etc#though i have to admit the show's particular version of green idiot war criminals did hit me hard in my love of ridiculous villains 😅#(speaking of larys 🔛🔝 *cough*)#queue and me we're in this together now
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Queue . . Explore this essential concept of Data Structures! It covers key topics and resources for every tech enthusiast from algorithms to Data Structure. Perfect for learning and growth. Let's connect and innovate together! . . Check the link below: https://bit.ly/4jwGxmY
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One thing I absolutely love about Bradley and Smart Aleck is how whenever she rides his thigh, he bounces her a little, and that just makes her lose it 🫠
Like, I can see Smart Aleck sitting on his lap while in front of his friends, and him just randomly bouncing his lap and she has to take a moment before saying or doing anything. She would be a mess by the end of the night.
Also, in your Christmas party fic, Bradley mentioned using the Theragun as a vibrator. Imagine him bringing it out and just surprising Smart Aleck with it (I've never used a Theragun, I have only seen it online so I'm not sure if this is completely correct)
this took me a minute to reply to because i wanted to actually write something for you! i was actually in a meeting at work when i first saw the message preview on my lock screen and i stg i was blushinggg so hard 🤭 because my god what a delicious thought!
yes! he’d bounce her just a little, like just enough to get a reaction out of her and get a little whimper out of her. to your point i could picture them in the hard deck and it’s a big deal that she came out with them? more below!
but also the theragun would actually hurt which is something bradley would realize the second he turned his on to even the lowest setting haha. though i do think that he’d randomly be like ‘gun me’ and have her do his back/shoulders 🤭
—————-
“well, look who decided to grace us with her presence this fine evening.”
jake looked even more smarmy than usual as you and bradley approached the group of pilots and partners holding court at a corner table. at the comment, bradley’s hands tightened where they were on your shoulders. it was a bit of a crush in the bar tonight, but he had guided you over without issue.
you completely ignored jake’s comment and his follow up about slumming it that night and greeted everyone - bob, callie, and natasha, as well as sarah costigan, whom jake had presumably dragged along. sarah even tossed you a kind smile in return. granted, she was still annoying and slightly condescending, but she wasn’t that bad. at least she didn’t head off to the jukebox and queue up hall & oates’ rich girl like jake did.
you let bradley slide into the circular booth before you and then sat on the end. being mr protective, bradley normally wouldn’t like having you sit at the end of the booth, but he knew you liked the space and ease of a quick getaway with a lot of people.
and it wasn’t that you didn’t like going to the hard deck. you just didn’t like how crowded and loud it could get on fridays and saturdays, which was when bradley’s friends tended to go. normally, the group would get together at the beach or go for a hike or even to another bar or someone’s house to hang out - and you always tried to attend - but their old standby was the hard deck and those were the nights you typically skipped.
you had been there about an hour when everything took a different turn. everyone was chatting and the music wasn’t too loud yet, and you were in a good mood, which was probably helped by the fact that you were on your third cosmo and bradley his fourth beer.
but then mickey and his girlfriend, cielo, showed up, which meant there were even more people crammed into the already crowded circular booth. you got up to give both cielo and mickey a hug and then the two of them sat down on the other side of the booth. which in turn meant everyone scooted down further towards your side.
scratch that - your side was gone.
all that was left was a sliver of space for maybe one of your bare thighs to find itself plastered against the warm vinyl upholstery. bradley quickly noticed your distress and pulled you half onto his lap. he barely broke his stride, so focused was he on his conversation with bob and callie. or so you thought.
the way he had manhandled you onto his lap was done with little consideration to your pink dress - the same pink dress from your first date some eighteen months ago - and it bunched up between your ass and bradley’s jeans. you sucked in a breath.
oh.
you were still covered, still safe from any risk of indecent exposure, but oh it felt nice having your bare skin brush against bradley’s jeans. the jeans that were stretched across his big, strong, broad thighs. did he realize? did he know?
it was nice sitting on his lap; you were content, happy, warm. safe. it wasn’t something you’d ever done in front of other people before; normally, neither of you were this bold, but you weren’t yourself, it was too loud, too warm, too overwhelming in the hard deck. and bradley knew that. he knew you were fussy. he always knew when you needed to get out of your head.
a few minutes went by and you tuned into various conversations and groups, but you eventually focused back on your little group at the end of the booth with bradley, bob, and callie. they were talking about one of the college football games on earlier because bob was a big sec fan. at one point, the boys got so animated and bradley got so into gesturing with his hands that you slipped a little in his lap. and then -
and then bradley bounced you.
oh.
he bounced you on his thigh and tightened his arms around you to keep a better hold on you.
“sorry, kid,” he muttered in your ear and then went back to his conversation, completely unaware of the whimper you let out.
oh.
that felt nice. that felt good.
you loved when he bounced you on his thighs.
you loved when he let you ride his thighs.
see bradley liked when you’d have to work hard to get yourself off. sometimes, he made it a punishment. it was torture - he wouldn’t touch you and you’d have to work for your orgasm. you’d get so frustrated.
and once you’d finally reach your peak and your cum would streak across his thigh, he’d sink his fingers - his big, strong fingers - inside your cunt and you’d ride them for another round until you’d get rewarded with his cock.
this time the whimper you let out was a little louder, but still for bradley’s ears only.
“you okay, kid?” he bounced you again.
this time your legs spread a little wider under the table and you shifted in his lap. you were getting flustered, warm. surely the sweat was beading at the back of your neck, between your thighs -
“mmhmm, just slipped.” you took a huge sip of your cosmo, hoping to cool yourself down. god, this was so embarrassing. why were you getting like this? it was just a bounce. he hadn’t even meant to do it.
please don’t let him find out.
“yeah?” bradley bounced you again and your breath caught. “can’t have that - here.”
his thumbs dug into the tender flesh by your hips, anchoring you to him. you tried to shift, tried to squirm, but he wouldn’t budge.
“th-thanks.”
you took another sip of your cosmo. it was almost done, that had to be why you were reacting this way. three drinks normally made you tipsy, but not drunk, so it had to explain your flustered state and your heightened sense of arousal.
he knew. he had to know. he had to know how wet you were. how your pussy was clenching on nothing. how you wanted him to take you out of here and let you ride him in the car. maybe he’d finger you against the bronco like he did that night all those months ago?
bradley turned back to the group. “hey, why don’t you tell bob and callie about that project you’re kicking off at work?”
“oh. it’s not - it’s not really that exciting -”
“she’s lying,” bradley squeezed your hip, “come on, tell them about the project you’re presenting in london.”
callie gasped. “london? again? oh, i’m so jealous! how long are you going to be gone?”
“just a - a couple days. they’re scaling this project i did in the US for the EMEA market. just a - a presentation.”
somehow, when bob asked where you were staying and if you were doing anything fun while you were there, you managed to give a coherent answer. nearly coherent.
but then you turned the tables back on the two of them and asked if they were excited for their trip to see callie’s parents in bryn mawr. you didn’t know much about the area baring the fact that mary once went out there to interview for a teaching position, but that wouldn’t have mattered anyway since you could barely focus on the last minute details for callie’s sister’s wedding because of bradley’s stupid hands.
the first time he did it, you didn’t think much of it. okay so he took a sip of his beer and fiddled with the glass before he put his hand on your thigh. it was cold, no big deal.
but then he did it again when callie mentioned the gorgeous bridesmaids’ dresses. and again when bob praised callie’s speech draft. and again when they mentioned the welcome party on thursday was scheduled around the eagles’ game.
it was cold and you could feel your nipples hardening and your breath coming in faster and god - could everyone tell? did they notice? you didn’t want them to notice, you just wanted bradley to notice.
feeling bold, you tried to trap his cold hands between your thighs, but when bradley yanked his hand away, you almost lost your balance. and what else was he supposed to do but bounce you and get you settled back on his lap. he growled a warning in your ear.
oh god. you wanted it louder, you wanted it just for you. you weren’t wearing a bra, could anyone tell? you hoped bradley could tell.
you hoped bradley knew.
(you hoped daddy knew.)
the promise of what was to come was getting to be too much. you could have blamed it on the cosmos, the noise, the heat, the number of people, but it really was just one thing - bradley.
bob and callie were talking to natasha now, so it was just you and bradley at your end of the table.
“bubs?” you looked over your shoulder to meet bradley’s eyes and knew he was just as wrecked for you as you were him. “please?”
he cocked an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug. “aww sweetheart, why didn’t you just say you wanted to leave?” all the condescension did was make you want him more.
before you could respond, before you could try and say something clever, he cleared his throat and directed his next words to the entire table.
“‘think the kid and i are gonna head out.”
it only took a few moments to say your goodbyes - hugs from those who were easily able, waves to those who were not - and then you and bradley started meandering your way to the bar.
once again, after he paid your tab, bradley guided you out of the bar with his hands on your shoulders and a broad presence at your back. you whimpered at the thought of him inside you, your big, broad, beautiful boyfriend inside you, telling you that you were a good girl for him. such a good slut for him. for daddy.
it had been a couple months since you’d first said it - said daddy - but it still made your pussy clench and your heart beat wildly.
the moment you were out in the cool parking lot, you sighed back against his chest. the pulsating music that once felt too loud was now a calming presence as you got further away from the chaos.
“atta girl, you did such a good job with my teasing.” his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close so you could feel how much he wanted you. “you ready for your reward?”
“yes, daddy.”
———————
half an hour later, on their way way out, bob, callie, and natasha didn’t even notice that bradley’s car was still in the parking lot even after the two of you had supposedly left.
they also didn’t notice that the windows were fogged up. or that one of your sandals was on the ground by the driver’s seat door. 🤭
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Tim AU where he’s dead as hell
Tim Drake died at age 10 while chasing Batman. Tim Drake dies to a gunshot wound to the abdomen from a bullet gone astray (that goon can honestly die with him cause that was such a bitch move).
He wakes up at home, cold and alone. He blinks, confused. He doesn’t feel dead although he’s…cold. His camera is still hanging off his neck and the high ceilings of the Drake manor offer no explanation.
“Okay,” Tim says, “okay.”
He stands up, head dizzy and body aching. His abdomen in particular hurts quite a bit and when he pulled his shirt up, there was a circular shaped scar. It was rigid and a little red on the edges.
Tim, being a ten year old, simply shrugged and went about his day. He continued school even though the people around him ignored him. He still did his work and the confused look on his teachers face was always a little weird.
And after a week break, Tim leaves the house to stalk the bats again. He finds that when he hides in the shadows (he learned from watching the bats do this) he basically disappears. Like, literally disappears! It makes snapping these pictures so much easier!
Then, the day his parents return from their dig, Tim is very startled the weirdness of his parents. They’re sniffly and just barely holding it together. They keep ignoring Tim when he tries to ask what’s wrong too!!
And suddenly, when there’s a gala held in his own name and the whispers of condolences, does he realize what’s happing.
“Okay. I’m…dead,” he nods as he stares at his sobbing mother, “dead-dead.”
Tims eyes wander to Mr. Wayne and watches as the man frowns and tries to comfort his grieving mother. It’s a bitter sight.
///cutaway segment where I yap///
Now, I’d assume that Tim is…a little numb. He accepts being dead weirdly well and just decides to live as normally as possible(he’s in denial). This time, he pretends he’s alive but he doesn’t actually interact with living beings and their world.
Okay, here’s a new thing
Because Tim is dead, he can wander Gotham with zero issues and thus, starts spying and listening in on rouges. He captures photos still(of course) and suddenly, he stumbles upon a big plan that would kill literally everyone. It’s set to happen in, let’s say, a year from when he finds out
Queue Tim finally deciding to do something that could actually help ppl. He prints the pictures he took(how? I’m not sure. He’s just built different I guess) and he starts leaving them in Batman’s, Nightwings, and Robins patrol routes.
One day, Tim just goes “fuck it” and shows up to the manor. He hides in the shadows and subconsciously allows himself to blend in with them. He’s nervous okay??
Dick is walking down the corridor, photograph in hand and Tim is just so excited! He’s also worried and stressed and dead which he totally forgot about. He scares the shit out of Dick which in turn scares the shit out of Tim and he scurries into the shadows again.
Later, Dick tells the others about the encounter
“Its eyes were glowing pure white!! With really sharp teeth and holy shit—“
“Language.”
“—and holy cow it was terrifying!!”
While Tim is a little sad that Dick(his Robin!!) called Tim, a 10(11?) year old, scary, it does spark a new idea.
Thus, Tim decides to play into the exaggerated narrative Dick had set in motion. The shadows like him and play along with his trickery. He leads the bats with glowing, blinking eyes and soft whispers.
And finally, three days before Gotham is to be exploded, Bruce figures it out and the Batfam save the day.
Happy ending! Yay!
Tim probably haunts them and because he’s been dead for so long (and as a child), he literally doesn’t know how to live anymore.
The bats have to coax him out of his cryptid, lurker like mindset and now they have 10(is he 11? 12? Maybe 15 now?) year old Tim Drake whose now permanently family.
End lol
Note:
This was VERY rushed and just an idea I had to write down
If anyone would like to expand their thoughts or ad don pls do!! Comment or reblog or whatever lol
I would highly appreciate it!!
#batfam#batman#fandom#ao3 fanfic#batman fandom#batman fic#fanfic#incorrect quotes#jason todd#tim drake#bruce wayne#dick grayson#cryptid#ghost#ghost au#cryptid au#no fanfics that ik of#sorry guys💔
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There's some understanding that the Captain isn't trying to hinder the medical team when he's skipping medical examinations. She can assume that is due to thee fact that he was the Captain, and saw himself as needing to ensure that the ship and crew were saw to first; perhaps an artifact of being the hero type of person in Linda's opinion. She's known a few of those types of people. Most of them, if not all were dead now.
I'LL LET THAT SLIDE ⸻ The woman smiles at that, echoes on for what he saying, ❝ I never said you were the worst patient; I could name several in my near two decades as a medical professional who sees to patients who are FAR WORSE. ❞ Said with a bit of pride puffing out her chest that she's been a Doctor Carter for so long now and intends to be for the rest of her life.
❝ A few of us do joke that chasing you is a vital part of Leonard's exercise routine. ❞ There are quite a few humorous memories that come to mind of Linda calmly walking down the halls, following after Leonard has broken into a sprint to follow after Jim.
If she had to review Jim as a patient, his notes would not be anything special beyond he would not be readily coming into medical bay for any scheduled examinations or prioritize himself low when others needed medical attention as well. Linda smirks as Jim promises that she could poke around wherever, ❝ You know in the early twenty-first century they use to do exploratory surgeries for diagnostics. Opening someone up, poking around blind for the problem. ❞ That was entirely, and thankfully, not necessary in over a century and some decades.
She liked the sound of this deal. His open suggestion was better said to her than someone else; she won't abuse her power there besides a few additional tests. Things they don't normally do or check often, and might as well take advantage of the captain's promise.
Linda doesn't bother fighting the smile, when Jim excites over hearing about a twenty seven hour surgery, though confirming that it was true hadn't been entirely honest. IS THERE A SHOT ⸻ ❝ Yes, and you're a sham if you do. ❞ That's not to sound superior, and Linda was going to gladly explain this to Jim. She's proud of her profession, of the field she works in and the people that she works alongside.
❝ I'd hate to crush your excitement, but I'm going to break the kayfabe? ❞ She's not entirely sure about the last word choice. There's an age old agreement about doctors and surgeries, especially ones that go on for longer than humanly possible. Linda still thinks the truth is incredibly impressive, and she hopes that the Captain will still be impressed. ❝ It's dangerous, can be absolutely detrimental to the health of the surgeon, so subsequentially the patient's, to go at something straight for so long. Seventeen hours, for any human body, is about the longest one can go. ❞
She explains first sleep and deprivation of sleep, of how long, which is seventeen hours, can a human perform at their peak before they start diminishing physically, mentally, or both. Than she'll break the down the myth of long surgeries.
❝ My father was lead surgeon of a twenty-seven hour surgery; he came with the surgical plan, his hands were at work the majority of the time, he was involved the entire duration, in the OR for as long as possible. Surgeon is NOT SOLO work ⸻ damn anyone who acts like it is or says otherwise. ❞ And Linda will admit to a bias, will admit to having no respect for any doctor who believes it is and wear their abilities with unchecked pride, or upholds the illusion their hands worked in surgery for twenty seven hours straight.
❝ He gets the credit because he was ⸺ like a Captain, to put it in analogy that you understand. He probably stood, had his hands working for twenty hours of it. ⸻He had a team that he led, like you have a crew. Any long-haul surgery, there's an entire team of nurses and surgeons to rotate in and out, to give each other a break, to allow for a snack or drink, or even to sit down in the room and some even rest their yes for thirty minutes to an hour. Dad never left the room, he was there for all of it, but he took breaks. ❞ Just as she had excited Jim with her answer, Linda got to get excited and prove why she loved what she did. It's the patients, it's the team effort toward the betterment of public health and dedication to other peoples' lives.
❝ It's a marathon, and he has a rule to step back every seven hours to hydrate and eat before going back in, to check with his body if he can keep going or if he needs one of the team to take over and he guide them through the rest, to sit to watch and jump back in when ready or needed. ⸻ That's what I like, that's why I pursued surgery. You are always meant to be part of a team, but normally only the lead surgeon takes the credit, as they came with the plan and the team. ❞
Hopefully, that doesn't sour the wonder of surgery or the work of her father, that the captain would only find further reason to respect him and any other person in this field. That he would understand better. Twenty seven hours was a feat, and Linda's got a lot more she could go on about over the topic.
he always had reasons for wanting to skip the medical examinations ever since he became captain. physical exhaustion that forces Bones to give him shore leave is one. however, the more heartbreaking & albeit unspoken reason for his aversion stems from the traumatic encounter with Khan, a chapter of his past that continues to cast its shadow upon him.
the mandatory mental evaluation is an integral aspect of the examination. it serves as an unwelcome conduit to that harrowing epoch in his life. Jim has improved greatly the last few years, nightmares too far in between, effects of PTSD diminished, but that cold chill that runs down his spine every single time remembering that day never has. ❝ fine, i’ll let that slide. for the record, i am not THAT bad of a patient ! i may have been a little — UNCOOPERATIVE at different points of my examinations but come on. once i’m here, you get through. i don’t fight anybody. ❞ he retorts.
they both know that is because his title as the captain is his only restraint in most cases. not wanting to set a bad example is a self-serving urge, too. ❝ next time, you won’t even have to call Carol, all right ? i’ll show up on my own. you can poke around . . . wherever. ❞ he shouldn’t have said that to a doctor. there’s no way he can grasp what she could do to him if she wanted.
oh well, he’s already accepted his fate on the next examination, so she might as well go all out & have a thorough report on him, in case he doesn’t comply that way again later. the confirmation on his question lights up his big blue eyes with excitement.
he’s like a puppy wagging its tail. ❝ that is insane. i KNEW it was true ! how could he operate at full capacity for that many hours ? is there a shot you doctors take to stay awake ? ❞
#HI can you tell i've been watching like 8 different medical dramas and my cousin is a nurse.#I love them. They are adorable. LINDA WANTED TO NERD OUT I APOLOGIZE FOR LENGHT#ic; linda carter#darehearts#linda carter; darehearts#queue; roleplays#verse; linda carter; to heal across the stars (thefleetsfinest)#dynamics; darehearts; look with kindness and you will always find wonder (linda and jim)#people; darehearts; men go abroad to wonder at the circular motions of the stars and they pass by themselves without wondering
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club - @black-brothers-microfic - words: 832 [warnings: some mild sexual language; swearing; regulus black is a stripper; james potter is here for that; i don't know how to describe dancing, so i describe james's victorian-era response to dress robes and skin, hahaha]
It started as curiosity.
The perverse “curiosity killed the cat” kind of curiosity.
News that Barty Crouch Junior had opened a strip club somewhere in Soho had rapidly spread within their small community, and in true Barty Crouch Junior fashion, said strip club was apparently the newest, hottest place “to be”.
From the outside, the club is a dingy little stone-build hole that gives off the impression Barty Crouch Junior is, in fact, using the location to dismember and store dead bodies, and the line of patrons waiting outside, stretching around the corner, are merely his unwitting victims.
It takes James almost twenty minutes to reach the front of the queue. He has to practically offer to drop to his knees and blow Evan Rosier on the spot to get through the door. Because of course Baby Crouch has made Rosier his door bitch. And of course Rosier doesn’t approve of what James is wearing.
Muggle clothes? Rosier says snidely. Does Potter have no decency? No pride? Is he here alone? Where are his little lap dogs? Is he that desperate for a hook up? Is Sirius Black getting dental work done, or something?
James isn’t simple. He knows what Rosier is implying, what the long-running joke is amongst their little Slytherin trio.
Because they’re fucking nasty little hypocrites.
But he’s also not stupid enough to antagonise the person who has the final say over whether or not he is permitted entry. So instead, he stomps on his pride and answers each question through gritted teeth.
When Rosier finally does grant him entry, he does so with a sinister little grin that has James wondering whether he’s about to walk directly into a snake pit and end up strung from the ceiling by pythons, or some such.
The world inside is dark and dimly lit by a light that almost feels warm. The music vibrates against his skin, pulses through his veins. A thumpthumpthump kind of beat that and fills him up until he almost drowns in it.
James scans the crowd. The club is busy. There are clusters of people scattered around the periphery of the circular stage like little colonies. An undercurrent of semi-drunken, excited chatter hums in the air. It takes him a moment to register the person on the stage. For his brain to catch up with what his eyes are seeing and what his dick has already very explicitly processed. And when it does, well…James dies.
He’s dead.
Dead and buried.
He has to be, because…
…fucking hell, when did Regulus grow up? The last time James checked, Regulus was that awkward kid with curly, floppy hair and a book perpetually glued to his face.
The awkward kid who was scrawny, all knees and elbows and grumpy scowls, who Sirius spoke dramatically and disparagingly about. Who only Sirius could speak disparagingly about, because regardless of whatever tensions existed between the two, Sirius would always have that possessive, brotherly, Child Of The House Of Black pride about him.
And fuck James dead, if Sirius could see Regulus now.
James has never thought that dress robes would do it for him. Dress robes—at least, the kind of poncy dress robes that Regulus wears—are not something James has ever gotten the least bit excited about. They’re stiff and stuffy and have a million little clips and hooks and buckles…
…only now, James thinks, he’ll probably pass out if Regulus so much as lifts the hem of his robe to flash an ankle.
On the stage across the club, Regulus moves into the spotlight, standing with his back to the crowd. Those dress robes—black, because when has Regulus ever worn any form of colour—flow like water around him. His skin is dusted with sparkles that glitter as he moves and the light hits him at different angles.
And he moves to the music. Fuck, does he move. When did Regulus learn to move like that? With such confidence and airs of superiority. In a way that has James envisioning so vividly, every time an article of clothing hits the floor, what it would be like to be entirely wrapped in those long, endless limbs.
It feels scandalous to be seeing so much skin. Leagues and leagues of smooth, pale, flawless skin James could run his hands over. It feels as though he should gasp and faint. He practically does when the last of the dress robe hits the floor of the stage and Regulus is only wearing shorts that are short-short and skin tight and leave nothing to the imagination.
Regulus’s expression is intensely dark and absolutely filthy. He levels them with it. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing to everyone watching him.
And, fuck James dead, when Regulus hits James with that expression—with a stare that strikes James directly in his soul—every nerve in James’s body sings, alive.
I see you, Regulus’s expression says. I know you’re there.
#harry potter#fanfiction#myfanfiction#microfics#regulus black#james potter#jegulus#starchaser#sunseeker#myjegulusmicrofics
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jealous!polyplastixs where some girl tries to get readers attention and they get jealous. Regina becomes possessive and angry, while Gretchen gets insecure and self-doubts. Karen just wants them all to get along. Queue reader trying to reassure all of them
Lost Phone
|| poly!plastics x fem!reader
|| Warnings; swearing, jealous Regina, insecure Gretchen, oblivious Karen, girl flirting with reader
|| Summary; when the girls spend the weekend at the mall, there's an unpleasant interruption.
Requests open!
Started; June 20th
Finished; June 20th
~~~
The weekend couldn't have come sooner. The past week had been filled with an endless cycle of school work and mindless routines, the girls were ready for a break. Their ideal break? Spending time together at the mall. Which was exactly what the four of them were currently doing.
They had gathered at the food court, sitting around a circular table. The table itself was covered in a variety of snacks and drink cups; most bought by the one and only Regina George.
Regina laid back in her chair, lazily munching on a bag of chips. Beside her, Gretchen scrolled through her phone. Occasionally giggling and reposting something. Karen, meanwhile, was working on her third slurpee. Taking sips of the sugary drink, eyes wide as she observed everyone around them. As for you, you watched Karen. Fascinated by how she could handle that much sugar all at once.
The mall itself was packed; classic for a Saturday afternoon. People of every age walked by, some stopping at the other tables to sit and eat. Others just browsing, looking through the various stores. The girls were mid conversation, Regina leading it when a girl around their age walked up to them. Regina didn't recognize her, which meant she likely went to anther school.
The unfamiliar girl smiled at the group, more specifically at you. Though her eyes flickered between everyone around you. Seemingly studying them in some type of way. You could tell, just as Regina did, that she wasn't from around here either. If she was, she wouldn't have had the balls to even try to say what came out of her mouth next.
Her eyes landed back to you," hey! My name's Rylan. Can I ask you something?"
As for the plastics, their eyes shifted to the unfamiliar girl, now known to be Rylan, when she spoke. Regina and Gretchen became slightly more guarded. The way this... Rylan looked them over made Regina grow suspicious, her eyes narrowing. Who did she think she was? Honestly, the audacity to just approach their table and talk to you... like the rest of them aren't even there. Beside her, Gretchen sat up a little straighter while Karen was oblivious to the growing tension.
Rylan seemed to become a little more nervous, but she continued on. Her eyes never leaving yours, her cheeks flushed when she spoke," I was just wondering. If you would help me with something real quick? It would only take a moment. I seem to have misplaced my phone, perhaps I could give you my number and you could help me find it?" Rylan leaned forwards, her hands touching the surface of the table. She winked at you and that was all it took to set Regina off. You didn't even have the chance to speak, let alone open your mouth before the blonde beat you to it.
Regina stood so abruptly that it startled Rylan into taking a step backwards," absolutely the fuck not."
Gretchen and Karen looked up at Regina, you buried your face into your hands. Feeling a little embarrassed. Gretchen's eyes widened, Karen looked confused. Wondering why Regina was suddenly so angry. The girl was just looking for her lost phone, wasn't she? Karen didn't get it.
It didn't take much to get Regina going, they all knew that. Still, it was a little odd to Karen that she snapped so harshly at this random girl. Karen looked between Rylan and Regina, trying to understand the situation maybe even a little bit better. "Reg...?"
Rylan was quite obviously surprised by Regina's reaction. She had thought the three girls were simply just your friends, did she read this wrong? Why was the blonde getting so defensive over you? Was she your girlfriend? Rylan had a million questions in her head, but before she could ask just one, Regina spoke again.
"I think it's best if you leave," Regina gave the girl a cold glare. One so cold, she actually felt a shiver go down her spine. Damn, who was this chick? Suddenly, Rylan felt glad she didn't go to your school. No matter how pretty you were to her.
"Right... I'm sorry," Rylan looked to you one last time, who had peeked your eyes out from behind your hands. Giving her an apologetic look. You loved your girlfriends, but they seriously needed to take a chill pill sometimes. You looked to Gretchen when Rylan left, noticing how quiet she was. You were about to ask if she was okay, when Regina turned on her heel and looked directly at you.
You felt the same cold shiver that Rylan had just moments ago. Regina didn't let up on her cold glare for even a second.
Karen watched as Rylan finally walked off, though even as the problem left- the tension stayed behind. Karen was still trying to process everything that just happened, like seriously. Why was Regina so pissy?
Gretchen, on the other hand, was tense. Quiet. Nervous, feeling a little insecure about the whole thing. If a girl could so easily flirt with you, how long was it before you left them for someone else? Surely you wouldn't... right? Deep down Gretchen knew the answer, of course you wouldn't. You'd be stupid to. But that didn't stop her from spiralling.
"What the hell was that? Do you know her?" Regina was pissed. Her jealousy seeping through her words like a venom that stung deep. You swallowed.
"I have no idea who she was, G. I promise," you tried your best to reassure the blonde, but she wasn't convinced.
"Tch, yeah right. She seemed real interested in you," Regina spat. Her eyes never leaving yours, making you feel trapped and pinned to the wall. Despite the wall being literal meters away.
"Regina, sit down for a second-" you started to say, she was about to protest but you forced her back into her seat before she could. Causing her to be a little faltered by the action. Most people didn't have the guts to interrupt her, let alone touch her, when she was pissed. Part of the reason why Regina liked you so much was cause normally, you could handle her bullshit.
You cupped her cheeks and pulled her again, this time directly to your lips. Kissing her. Clearly, words weren't going to work to calm her down. You needed action and this was the best you could think of. You pulled away, sighing in relief when it seemed to have worked.
"...whatever." Was all Regina muttered, arms folded across her chest. You couldn't help but laugh, though it stopped when you saw the look of insecurity on Gretchen's face. Your job wasn't done yet.
You reached over and took her hands in yours, giving her a soft smile," Gren? Baby? Still with us?"
Gretchen blinked and her eyes met yours, her cheeks flushed," yeah... I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. You know I'd never leave you guys, right? I'm yours. For however long you want me," you gave her hand a gentle squeeze, to which she smiled. You relaxed at that. Good, she seems okay now. Your eyes went to Karen, who was distracted by her slurpee again. You cracked a smile, leave it to Karen to have no idea what was even going on.
Even still, you loved her. You loved your girlfriends.
"...can we get more slurpees?" You and Gretchen laughed at Karen's question. Regina just rolled her eyes, but that's what the four of you went to do next. Get more slurpees.
#fanfic#x reader#canon x reader#wlw fiction#fem reader#mean girls#regina george#mean girls x reader#regina x gretchen x karen#regina x reader#regina george x fem!reader#regina x gretchen#regina x karen#regina george renee rapp#gretchen x reader#gretchen wieners x fem!reader#gretchen wieners x reader#gretchen mean girls#gretchen x fem reader#karen x gretchen#gretchen x regina#gretchen wieners#karen shetty x reader#karen shetty x fem reader#karen x fem reader#karen shetty#karen x female reader#karen x reader#karen x regina#reneesghostinthelivingroom
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Unique 💜 Part 3

I'll regret this for the rest of my life.
PAIRING: idol!Namjoon x OFC
SUMMARY: Namjoon dreamt of going against the rules and meeting the one lover he couldn’t forget, but things have changed.
WORD COUNT: 11.7 k
GENRE: old lovers to ?
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: alcohol, getting drunk, fighting, heartbreak, angst, bittersweet
A.N. As promised, after editing/posting parts 1 and 2, here is part 3 💜 I really love it, every angsty bit 💜 Thank you @moonleeai for the beta read, amazing as always, and @eerieedits for the banner 💜 This part will also be an entry for the @bangtanwritershq upcoming event ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’ 🤧
Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Part | Next Part >
“Wait,” Angie asked, putting the phone down to grab her small yellow luggage. She smiled and waved goodbye at the taxi driver, “Thank you.”
Then she turned to face the two-story window-covered building, brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes, and pulled the retractable handle out to drag her luggage along.
“What did you say?”
“I asked if you can meet tomorrow?!” Hyejin sounded excited over the phone, with a high-pitched tone that, unfortunately, was difficult to hear over the airport background noise, even as Angie pressed the phone to her ear. “Where are you?! Why is it so loud?!”
“I’m at the airport,” she told her best friend, calmly dodging people on her way to get inside.
She didn’t imagine there would be such a rush on a Friday afternoon, but she should know that it was one of the busiest airports in the world. She could already see the glass sliding doors opening into a yellow neon sign.
LAS VEGAS
Hyejin screeched. “You’re leaving?!”
“To go home, actually.” She sighed. “Had to come and replace a colleague at the last minute at a seminar. Are you already in Boston?”
“No! I told you I was going to a concert in Vegas before meeting you!”
Angie’s eyebrows jumped as she staggered. “You’re in Vegas, too?”
Hyejin gasped audibly. “You’re in Vegas?!”
“Yeah!”
“We can meet early!! And then go together tomorrow or something!”
Angie heard the bickering from people behind her who were annoyed that she had stopped in the middle of the way, and she excused herself quickly.
Angie walked to the side, near a huge circular pillar holding the information sign for the drop-off and pick-up area. “But I have a ticket.”
“So?”
“Prepaid by the university—”
“Don’t even! What are the chances that we’d be together in Vegas again?” Hyejin suddenly gasped. “And you could come to their concert!!”
Angie hesitated, looking around as she brushed her hair behind her ear as if anyone else could judge her for the thoughts she was having. She knew what concert Hyejin was talking about. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea…”
“Are you kidding me?! This is like a sign! It’s perfect!”
“But I don’t have a ticket…”
“I’ll get on it. Listen, grab a taxi to my hotel so you can drop off your bags, and then we’ll go together! And stop arguing; I’m not taking no for an answer! It’s an extra night we can be together, and you’ll get to see an old friend! Where’s the harm in that?”
Angie rubbed her eyes as Hyejin ranted uninterruptedly in her ear. Her logic was flawless, and the temptation to do as she suggested was hard to resist. It was as though fate had planned a trap, setting her up when she least expected to have her life turned upside down.
“Angie?”
“Yeah,” she said before she could stop herself, then she sighed and closed her eyes. “It can’t hurt.”
Angie had never seen the Allegiant Stadium in such disarray. As the car took her and Hyejin closer, she feared they’d hit or be hit by one of the many concertgoers crossing the street randomly, or someone just jumping across queues, or a kid suddenly losing the hand of their parents.
Fortunately, the car moved safely through the crowd of people lining up to get inside and see the show. Finally, it took a turn into the underground parking that required credentials to have access despite the manager having phoned ahead. As she understood it from Hyejin’s explanations, the manager with them was in contact with the team organizing the event and could get them easily in like this. It was all very strange for Angie, who was used to being in line to watch a concert, not entering through a backdoor, but Hyejin was at ease.
She was ecstatic about their chance phone call, which ended up with them attending the concert together. Hyejin went on about how she had arrived earlier that day and was hoping to get a kiss before going to Boston to meet Angie, and the latter stayed quiet. She had tried to ignore the banners and publicity outside of the stadium advertising the amazing concert about to take place, but it was becoming impossible. The typical warm April weather was getting to her, making her sweat more than she would have liked as she braced herself.
They were escorted to the lowest part of the first-level balcony, which had an exclusive area with black sofas with enough space to comfortably seat four. The lounges were mostly occupied except for one at the half length of the stage set, and it turned out to be for them.
“You might not believe me, but I haven’t seen a show of theirs in years!”
Hyejin huffed out of frustration but instantly grinned happily, turning to eye the big screen on the stage with the concert’s poster. It was pretty and colorful, with the guys displayed on a small stage, either sitting on speakers or standing, heartily welcoming all attendees. Hyejin’s eyes were instantly drawn to the one she longed to see the most, with his sweet kitty cat smile and relaxed pose, but she guessed that Angie’s would be glued to the member next to him. She glanced at her best friend and smiled; she was right. She found it amusing that Angie was staring at Namjoon sitting comfortably on a speaker with the most laidback smile. Maybe seeing him after so long was shocking, although she would have imagined it wouldn’t matter that much.
Angie inadvertently confirmed Hyejin’s assumptions by turning her back on the stage and enthusiastically catching up in the hour that led to the concert. Angie had heard all about Hyejin’s divorce from Nomin and how her relationship with Yoongi had developed, but it was always different to talk about it in person.
The night settled as the venue got stacked with fans. Meanwhile, the two women had a drink and snacks and waited comfortably. Angie wasn't pretending to be alright or disinterested in what was about to happen; she simply didn’t know how to feel, react, or breathe properly. Only one thought occurred to her when the music on the speakers stopped and the lights went out: she’d see him, but he wouldn’t see her. It stung her chest, but maybe it was for the best.
A video started playing on the screen, showing the seven members wearing white and sitting around a table in what could be an interrogation room. While Hyejin was cheering along with the crowd, Angie was at a loss. Then the first photo showed — the first member to be introduced was Namjoon, and her breath caught. That was really happening. All those people were cheering his damn sexy photo, which was a mugshot, on a giant screen because they were excited to finally see him. They kept screaming as the screen showed the other members, but to her, that settled it — she and Namjoon were really in the same place at the same time.
The screen lifted, and a cage appeared, with Namjoon being the first to be shown on the screen. He was posing, of course, and his image blurred as her eyes teared up. Hyejin cheered and grabbed her hand with a grin, which made Angie smile back and swallow her emotions. She shouldn’t get too caught up; it was just a performance. He wouldn’t see her.
It was like a dream, the whole thing. It couldn’t have been a movie, despite the screen, because the sound shaking her ribcage, the blinding lights, and the smell of the fire, smoke, and other effects were real. More than that, her eyes were glued on a familiar body moving and jumping around with an enviable energy. He looked taller and more buff than usual, with short, light brown hair that suited him perfectly.
After a few songs, she looked around at how the crowd was getting crazy with their greetings, and she just chuckled. Tonight, she was just one of the many others who also wanted his arms wrapped around her tightly, but that wouldn’t happen.
There was only a single moment she thought that might change. It was halfway through the concert when the guys split the team in half and got on a raised platform on a vehicle to go around the stage during a song. Her eyes widened a lot when the first group that passed by her and Hyejin waved from so close, Angie could see the beads of sweat running down their faces. That made her question whether the guys could actually see them from that close. This was not a silly thought because Hyejin was cheering and waving next to Angie, and Yoongi smiled and waved back. Hyejin didn’t make a big deal out of it — or at least her smile didn’t grow any bigger, probably because it wasn’t possible — but it did raise a question for Angie: would Namjoon see her?
The guys switched carts in the middle of the stadium so they could wave at the whole venue, and Angie’s heart rate spiked. She waited with bated breath as if it was a dream as the station moved, and everyone around her screamed and jumped in excitement. Hyejin waved just as excitedly, though with the advantage that the guys were her friends and knew she was there, but Angie didn’t move. She stood there, and in three seconds, it was over — he was singing and cheering along to that upbeat song with the others, and then he waved, and for a split second, she could swear he paused. But maybe she was imagining things. Time surely stopped for her, but it was just her attempt at freezing that moment. At taking in every possible detail of how he looked, how he was, how he existed, so the memories could sting her beating heart even deeper.
I don’t regret it. Anything. Being with you, loving you. No matter how much I’ll miss you.
His intimate voice echoed inside her head, and her eyes filled with tears instantaneously. She trembled as they dropped down her cheeks.
If time is absolute and only goes forward, then regretting is meaningless. But looking forward… we might still do something good.
She hid her cry, turning away from the stage. Maybe she had been cold with her reply, trying to fix his breaking heart instead of screaming how much she loved him too. Still, she remembered cradling his cheeks, looking into his bloodshot eyes when he spoke as if he had read her mind.
There could still be a future in which we will see each other again.
A hand on her shoulder had her quickly cleaning her cheeks and turning with a forced smile. Hyejin didn’t need to ask; she just hugged her best friend firmly. Angie squeezed her back, taking her strength to find her footing. Yes, their time aligned again. But what did that mean?
That question stayed on her mind for the remainder of the show, sinking deeper into her gut when, during a pause to communicate with the public, Namjoon said, “There’s a saying, It Ain't Over 'til It's Over.”
Her chin trembled, and she wondered. It was over. They decided that, didn’t they? They decided, had their dream, and moved on. That was what they set out to do– and did, right? But their timelines were intersecting again. Could that mean something?
She had her answer when, during BTS’ goodbyes, Namjoon told the audience with tearful eyes, “You guys are my miracle. I love you so much.”
Her breath shook, aided by the intense screams felt all around the stadium, and she got it. They were his miracle, that life was his call.
My body, my time, my dedication… It belongs to something bigger than myself.
She had always known. They were a chapter, nothing more. His heart would always be there, with everyone.
She watched the rest of the show with a small smile — he was the happiest in his element, living life to the fullest. That was all that mattered.
Namjoon could barely see straight. He could still hear the cheers from the audience as the stage crew led him and the others through the narrow corridor to get to the back safely. They got water handed to them as the medical team eyed them, on standby, just in case, but Namjoon raced ahead. His heart was thumping rapidly; he was exhausted but pumped, and despite his narrowing vision as the exhaustion took hold, he had to ask Yoongi if he had seen her, too.
They entered a back room where they were invited to sit down and remove the microphones, hearing pieces, and any accessories or clothing that weren’t comfortable, and Namjoon finally locked on his target.
“Did you see them?”
Yoongi was sitting on a couch near Jimin, both men taking off their boots as they grumbled that something was wrong with them.
“Who?” Yoongi asked, a bit winded. He was catching his breath, the same as everyone.
“Namjoon-ssi,” someone called, and Namjoon turned. It was one of their production managers. “Maybe you should sit? You look very pale.”
“Hyung,” Jimin called, waving at a chair next to him, and Namjoon obliged just to get them all off his back.
He tapped his foot as he drank water to appease the staff. Then, he leaned forward to speak closer to Yoongi on the other end of the couch. “Did you see Hyejin?”
Yoongi sighed, finally free from the wretched tight boots. “Yeah. You knew she was coming.”
“Yes, but did you see—”
“Guys!”
He clenched his jaw as their tour manager joined them with nothing but praises. He saw how everyone was happy with a good performance, except Jungkook, who was whining about a mistake he had made. The maknae asked for the footage to confirm how terrible it had been, but the tour manager swiftly denied him.
“You need to get to the lounge upstairs, have refreshments and snacks, take some photos for social media, and then maybe.” Namjoon saw Jungkook trying to hide his sigh, but everyone saw it. “Maybe after dinner? Or even tomorrow. Let’s give the video crew time to get the footage, hmm?”
That was enough for Jungkook not to insist and for the other members to get up. Yoongi and Jimin had gotten sneakers in the meantime and were ready to go. Namjoon followed after them quietly, playing with a hangnail on his thumb.
They made their way through the underground corridors to reach the elevator, but as the managers and assistants were with them, Namjoon didn’t ask Yoongi again. He didn’t talk; he just reviewed that moment over and over. He noticed Hyejin because Hoseok had given him a heads-up right before they reached the spot, pointing at the balcony. So he looked up, expecting to smile and wave at a childhood friend, but paused. A familiar blonde was next to a cheerful Hyejin, just standing and holding the railing, looking at him. The car kept moving, and in a second, he couldn’t find them anymore. It was too hard and chaotic, and someone pulled him to keep waving, maybe Jimin, and he had to continue the show.
But now that he thought back, he knew he wasn’t imagining things. He wouldn’t have pictured her with grown curtain bangs and longer hair in general; he would have pictured her as he saw her the last time, at the airport, one year before. He would have pictured her smiling for sure, not— Not that anxious expression. Because it was, right? He wasn’t imagining things!
The elevator was taking them up, but his thoughts were already elsewhere.
Angie.
He closed his eyes.
I can’t help thinking that I’ll just get addicted to you.
Goosebumps puckered his skin up his arms at the memory of her confession, and he brushed them absentmindedly. He didn’t know back then how true those words would become, at least for him. He chuckled at himself; how naive.
Would you do it again? Steal my thoughts away so that I can only feel you?
Her request still made his heart thump louder. He should have known that nothing, and no one could have felt like her. He knew it after being with her the first time and had it ingrained in his heart during their second time together.
The group reached the luxury lounge, where they had taken photos and had interviews before the show, and leisurely distributed themselves across the taupe sofas. He smiled and nodded along to the conversation, but his head was elsewhere.
At that time, he thought that Angie was the only one for him. Although they knew from the start that it would end, the memory of her and the hope to cross paths again had fueled him endlessly. He didn’t know if they could meet again, but he wanted to make it happen as soon as they were done with the tour.
He could still remember her anxious voice as her glistening eyes bore into his, their bodies tangled together in bed. I want you to stay. Be the person I was searching for and found, not the one I have to let go.
He was both. They knew it, he knew it, but he had been feeling hopeful. And brave, all because of her. He didn’t know what he was doing, but her darling eyes as she told him sweetly, You can always kiss me, Namjoon, were enough.
He wanted that again. He had been dreaming about that for a long time. Suddenly, he recalled that Hyejin had mentioned flying to Boston after meeting them in Las Vegas, so he considered if that was why he was picturing Angie. She was so far but finally within reach.
He eyed the tour manager in the corner of the room on a phone call; maybe Namjoon could find a moment to fly to Boston and see her. He could do it even for just a night, regardless of his exhaustion. They only had one tour date left to go. Maybe he could ask Hyejin what she thought of that. It was better to ask before getting his hopes up.
When the social media photos were done, and everyone was going for drinks and snacks, he got up and got some chips from a bowl next to the food containers Jungkook was raiding. Namjoon kept eying the manager, though. Just waiting for the opportunity, shifting from leg to leg as he popped his fingers joints.
“Woah, hyung,” Jimin complained. He was splayed on the couch next to Hoseok, and if he were a cartoon, a little soul would be escaping out of his mouth. “I’m getting even more tired just looking at you.”
“How do you still have so much energy?” Hoseok chuckled, looking around the room. Jin was on another couch with his forearm over his eyes, Yoongi was beside him on his phone, and Jungkook and Taehyung were eating while standing. The containers looked unsteady, with the red and brown sauces visible through the white plastic, but neither man seemed to care as they downed the noodles. “Even Kook and Tae are still while they’re eating.”
“I need to ask something, that’s all,” Namjoon admitted, pressing his lips as he fidgeted.
“About Hyejin?” Yoongi asked, raising his eyes.
Though most people knew Hyejin in the team, they were still careful about mentioning her in a room full of people they didn’t know, notably stadium personnel, catering assistants, and other potential aliens. Her relationship with Yoongi was not common knowledge, and he was very protective.
“Well, yeah.” Namjoon nodded.
“Actually—”
Yoongi started but didn’t finish because the tour manager approached them with relief on his face and said, “There was a problem with your flight back to Seoul on Monday, but it is solved now.”
Hoseok groaned. “I can’t wait to go back home!”
Jimin tapped his leg and nodded. “Yeah, we need our break. At this point, we’re all using our battery reserves.”
“I thought you’d avoid it the most,” Taehyung voiced quietly, reaching for a water bottle.
“I’m tired now, but I’ll miss the lights later,” Jimin admitted, looking down.
“We’ll all feel it,” Jungkook commented between mouthfuls.
“Some more than others,” Yoongi added. He eyed his phone, but someone arrived at the door and asked the assistants to enter the room before he could type anything. He got up and projected his voice, “Let them through.”
The others chuckled and teased him for the way he spoke so loudly from his chest, even after almost three hours of performing, but Namjoon wasn’t listening. Similarly to all others, he had recognized Hyejin instantly, but right behind her was the someone he had on his mind all along.
Her blonde hair was brighter than he remembered, and her frame was smaller as she walked into the room behind Hyejin. Her bangs had grown beyond her jawline, and she brushed one side behind her ear absentmindedly as Hyejin told her something. Then she raised her eyes, and he saw that spark he was surely mirroring. His chest was heavy as tears rose to his eyes, and he just knew she felt the same. Everyone else enthusiastically welcomed them, getting up from the sofas to greet them, but Angie’s eyes were fixed on him, and it was like no one else existed.
Then Hyejin tapped her shoulder, and Angie was forced to blink and smile around at the familiar faces, asking her how she was and if she had enjoyed the show. Jungkook even offered food with a wave that she politely refused.
“We almost missed each other; it was truly chance!”
Hyejin explained their situation in Korean as everyone got back to the sofas except Angie and Namjoon. Hyejin sat by Jin, not to look downright obvious next to Yoongi, and Angie stood by her side. Namjoon thought she’d be lost from not understanding the conversation, but as they stared at each other, he wondered if it was because she didn’t know what to do now that they were meeting again.
He didn’t either. He wasn’t thinking; it was like he was floating. His feet took him to her, closer and closer, until he could see her delicate skin wrinkling gently in a smile. “Hi—”
He moved before he thought it; he had to. Her arms raised a little at her sides, hinting at a hug, and he needed everything. He took her in his arms, sweeping her off her feet as his heart burst with happiness. Instantly, her orchid scent shook the foundations of his soul, unsettled the waters of his spirit, and then settled everything back into place. Because they saw each other again. Their times aligned — he had believed they’d see each other again, and they did.
He pressed her to his chest as his fingers supported the nape of her neck, feeling her nails sinking into his sweater as she breathed him in anxiously; it all electrified him indescribably. He wasn’t energized, he had a galaxy looking to burst out of his chest.
When he pulled away to look into her eyes, he felt a little crazy. He knew he was elated, that seeing her again was making him reckless, that they weren’t alone, that he was a second away from kissing her and losing himself again, but then he paused.
She was sad. Her lips were curved in a smile that didn’t bloom fully, and her glistening eyes were filled with tears, but not of happiness. Not because their wishes and hopes had just come true randomly by a touch of fate but because a storm was devastating her.
He knew then — that it was too late.
Angie had followed Hyejin a bit uneasily. Hyejin had convinced her that Namjoon and the others would like to see her, given the chance, and she couldn’t find in herself the will to say no.
However, she wasn’t sure any of the scenarios going through her head helped her nervousness. He could ignore her; after all, a year had passed. Or perhaps because he was a superstar. She had never seen him like this, despite knowing about it. It was one thing to see something online about a TV appearance. Being cheered by thousands of people made him look bigger than life, so she wondered how things would go.
Yet, as soon as their eyes locked, she knew. His lips parted ever so slightly, his wide eyes fixed on her in wonder, and everything was right with the world again. He walked up to her like a dream, and her soul buzzed with unrivaled excitement — it was him.
When he picked her up in his arms, she laughed, ecstatic. He hadn’t changed a day; the cheerfulness, the genuineness, the dimples. But then she breathed him in, and she crumbled. That citrus, woody scent whirled a turmoil inside her chest, and she sobbed mutely. She gripped his shoulders through his gray sweater as though he could save her from the guilt flooding her from the inside out, but it wasn’t possible.
When he pulled away to face her, her words dried out. How could she tell him? She didn’t want it to be true, not right now. At that instance, she wished everything was different.
But then someone called their attention. “Alright, all finished. The cars are ready to take you to the hotel so you can have a proper dinner!”
Hyejin smiled and grabbed her hand, translating what the guy had said before turning to Namjoon and asking something. Angie didn’t know what it was but could tell by his apprehension that it vexed him. Still, he agreed and gave Angie one last look full of confusion and worry, and she almost told him to wait. She wanted to explain, but Hyejin squeezed her hand.
“We’ll go in another car and meet them at the hotel. Let’s go!”
Namjoon entered the van ahead of Yoongi and Jin, sitting in the furthest seat while the managers and driver got settled. He put the hoodie over his head and looked out the window, tapping his foot incessantly on the floor. He couldn’t see anything out the window except for cars and staff getting everything ready for the show happening the next day, but he wasn’t paying attention. His mind was stuck reliving that moment over and over again.
Angie wasn’t happy to see him. A part of him wanted to scoff and deny this gut feeling; just because she had tears in her eyes, it didn’t mean anything. But he knew better; his gut told him so. His heart. Funny how they hadn’t seen each other in one year, but as soon as he saw her, he just knew that something wasn’t right.
He just couldn’t figure out what. The way she hugged him… No, he also knew she wanted to hug him. She gripped his sweater, she wouldn’t have moved away if he hadn't, but then—
Yoongi released a frustrated grunt next to him and threw his phone on the seat between them. Namjoon saw his hyung look outside, facing opposite from the phone, in time to see them exiting the underground parking lot into the night streets at the back of the venue. Jin was unbothered in the seat in front of them next to a manager, chatting about something that happened during the concert, but neither Namjoon nor Yoongi was paying attention.
Namjoon saw the screen light up with a notification — Hyejin sent a message.
Namjoon looked quickly away, ignoring the device. Maybe Yoongi was frustrated because his girlfriend was in another car instead of with them. He chuckled mutely at the thought; knowing his hyung, he wasn’t, but Namjoon was.
He had to swallow the firm no he wanted to give Hyejin when she suggested taking different cars. It was for their safety, which was the only reason he acquiesced in the end. But he wanted to understand what was going on. He wanted to be alone with Angie, and a car was as good as it got before he could take her to his—
“Ugh, listen,” Yoongi grunted quietly, and Namjoon looked at him. He did look frustrated. “I didn’t know about this. Apparently, Hyejin didn’t know Angie was in Vegas until right before the concert, and when she found out, she thought it was a good idea to bring her along. She didn’t tell me.”
Namjoon knew by the way Yoongi was gripping the phone and ignoring the notifications popping up on the screen that he was stressed about it. They were likely fighting about it.
Namjoon shook his head slightly. “It’s okay.”
Yoongi nodded and turned the screen down for a moment. “You don’t look okay.”
Namjoon glanced at him before pulling the hoodie to cover his eyes up a little more. He could have acted disingenuous with anyone else but not Yoongi. The same way his hyung had openly spoken about Hyejin when he thought he had lost her, and sometimes, even now, when she drove him crazy, Namjoon had done the same. He had many opportunities to compose music and share how he felt about Angie over several drinks in the last year.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, letting his head fall on the headrest. “She looked at me in a way that— I can’t explain it.”
“You’ll talk to her tonight.”
“Right,” he sighed, rubbing his head. Talk and hopefully, something more, whatever more. He needed to hold her in his arms just a little longer. He was just afraid he wouldn’t be able to.
Angie felt awkward. The last time she had dinner with all the guys was at Hyejin's wedding two years back, and it didn't feel that weird. Of course, Hyejin herself was there this time, and it made the atmosphere lively as she easily joked around and translated back and forth. Even though Angie was surrounded by friendly and patient people who often tried to include her in the conversation, she couldn't quite let her guard down or join in the fun as her best friend did. It wasn't that she was incapable, but she found herself hesitating.
The dining table was long, making it harder to have one big conversation as a whole group. Angie was sitting in front of Namjoon right at the center, and everyone tried to talk from one end of the table to the other, making it loud. They also tried including Angie and Namjoon and succeeded for the most part. Namjoon would mostly reply and smile before going back to being quiet and just eating.
She wanted to talk to him. She tried to when they arrived at the restaurant, but the group swiftly moved as a whole to get inside and sit down. She could barely say two words to him, and now, it just wasn't the moment. Everyone would have been able to hear it, and she wanted to talk just the two of them.
Angie thought he understood that because aside from teasing her once or twice to participate in the group's crazy, he stayed quiet. It actually made her heart tremble — not only was she seeing him again, but he was right there. Across the table, having dinner like no time at all had passed. With his light brown hair, broad muscles, and such perceptive eyes, her legs were jelly. It shook her in ways she couldn’t name. All she wanted was to pull him aside, look into his eyes, and finally ask him how he had been doing.
The waiting was the worst.
“So what's the plan?” Yoongi asked, grabbing his wine glass as he eyed Angie and Hyejin. He asked in English, so Angie was pretty sure it included her. “Are you staying for our show tomorrow?”
“Uhh, no, I… didn't plan on it,” Angie admitted, looking at Hyejin. “But I don't know about Hyejin.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, smiling playfully. “We could watch another concert and leave on Monday.”
“I can’t. I need to give a class Monday morning.”
She felt Namjoon's eyes and knew he wanted to ask about her work, but Hyejin was already shrugging.
“Alright, then we'll leave tomorrow. I'll fly back with you and finally meet the boyfriend.”
Hyejin chuckled mischievously, but Angie couldn’t hear her. She had paled significantly as she faced Namjoon, who was just looking at her, fork mid-air with a piece of steak still on it. There was pain in his eyes before he put the fork down and reached for his water glass, and Angie teared up with a sting inside her chest. She wanted to tell him, not for him to find out like this.
Namjoon put the glass of water down after taking a sip. “You're seeing someone?”
Angie’s heart dropped as she breathed her answer. “Yes.” She swallowed dryly and felt the urge to explain, “Only for the last three months.”
“She didn't want me to meet him yet, but since I'm traveling to Boston, I convinced her,” Hyejin revealed with a grin and an elbow poke into Angie’s ribs.
Angie straightened her back. “It's nothing serious.”
“What are you talking about? You've met his parents! They love you; you're basically part of the family already.”
Hyejin was bragging as though she was congratulating Angie on a promotion or some type of accomplishment, and Angie tapped her leg. It forced Hyejin to stop and look at her best friend, finally noticing how uncomfortable she was.
“Maybe you should talk more carefully,” Yoongi hissed quietly in Korean from next to Namjoon, and Hyejin blinked, befuddled by the whole situation. Why was Angie looking so anxious? Why was Yoongi angry? Why was it all such a big deal?
“Woah, so you're leaving,” Jin said loudly, and the other guys picked up on it.
“We should do something fun tonight, then.”
Angie couldn’t understand what the guys started talking about, but she wouldn’t have cared even if she did. Namjoon wasn't looking at her anymore, eating with his eyes fixed on the plate in front of him, and it hurt. Her hurt stung as she teared up yet stayed unable to talk to him properly. She felt shut off and unable to do anything about it. It was hard to explain it — she and Namjoon weren't together, nor did they ever say they'd wait or had any expectations they would. But then why did she feel like she had betrayed him somehow and broken his heart? His trust? Why did it feel like she had betrayed them?
Things moved too fast after that, and Angie felt like she was running after Namjoon without ever catching up to him. The guys had rented the whole hotel rooftop for themselves and the staff to have dinner and drinks comfortably at the restaurant and bar. That also meant that a karaoke machine wasn't hard to arrange. When the group moved to the bar area, whistling at the panoramic view from the enclosed space, Angie followed, hoping to finally have a moment with Namjoon. However, he sat between Hoseok and Taehyung, and she had no choice but to stay next to Hyejin on another couch.
She couldn’t really engage with anything happening around her, and it wasn't because of the language. There was just so much she wanted to tell him. She recalled all their jokes and moments fondly. She was so proud of everything he had accomplished and become, especially after seeing him perform. The CD he made for her… it was still her safe place. It was like a piece of his soul that she got to keep with her and that she cherished with her whole soul.
She wanted to confess that she regretted not telling him how much she loved him. He told her in so many ways, like the sweet, romantic poet he was, whereas she had simply made jokes about time theories her colleagues would have discussed when attending a karaoke night like that. Looking back, it felt like she was too weak — she had deep feelings for him, but she was scared to voice them. Because if she did, it would hurt so much.
Yet, instead of telling him all this tonight, she just lingered around nursing her beer. She debated leaving after realizing that his gaze still stayed stubbornly away from her, but she’d prefer to just confront him and ask to talk and get that all out of her chest.
In the end, he got up and left quietly, and she didn't wait for any more social cues or permission. She simply got up and followed him.
She ignored all the staff around and kept her eyes on him to see where he was going. Then, he opened the heavy glass door to step outside onto the balcony, and she went after him.
The night was cold that far up despite the spring weather, and Angie shivered in just her jeans and button shirt but didn't turn back. Namjoon surely heard the door close behind her and turned around, sucking a deep puff from a lit cigarette between his lips. Angie staggered when his eyes met her form, and the night city lights and rooftop lights finally allowed them to face each other.
She started trembling. “You… You smoke.”
He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew the smoke out, letting his eyes linger on her before answering, “Only when I'm stressed.”
His were such simple words said so quietly, yet she almost burst out crying.
Her breath hitched, and he asked, “What's wrong?”
His worry was clear in the way he opened his hands as if to help her, though without touching her. He looked at her intently, and she couldn't breathe. She didn't know why she asked that, she knew he smoked. Never with her, but he did that one night they fought a year before. The night he barged out, got drunk, and came back because he loved her and wanted to spend every second possible together. Because he wanted to live and love without regrets.
She had to force air back into her lungs, feeling like her chest was about to cave in. “I'm sorry!” she breathed.
Angie reached to grab his hands for support, and he didn’t move away. “About what?” he asked.
Her features twisted in a grimace for a second. Then she looked down at their hands, trying to put her feelings into words. “I didn’t mean for you to hear it like that. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
“It’s fine,” he assured, pulling his hands away.
In one fluid motion, he took the cigarette to his mouth again and moved away from her, turning his back to face the world instead. The view of his broad shoulders that once would have brought her comfort suddenly hurt her so much more.
She saw the smoke dissipate into the air above his head, and a whimper shook her. “I’m sorry,” her voice wavered as she looked at the floor, seeing his feet turn to her. “I can’t help feeling like I just betrayed us somehow, and I just… I’m really sorry.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but her heart was on her sleeve, and the tears were looking for a way out. Her lips trembled as she wiped them away, trying to hide them from his attentive eyes.
“No, don’t be sorry,” his tone was so light in comparison to her heavy heart that she sobbed. “Hey,” he called, and she finally looked up. He had a small smile and gentle eyes. “There’s no problem, quite the contrary. You're building a relationship with someone special, and that’s amazing,” he remarked with a smile that indented his cheeks ever so slightly. She was frozen, looking at him, trying to understand. “You’re happy. That’s all that matters.”
Angie couldn’t stop looking at him. Namjoon was talking with such gentleness, but her chest ached. It was as though her heart was heavy while his was light as a feather, and she didn't get it.
Suddenly, her brow furrowed as she pondered over what he had said. Happy. She thought she was, but now she wasn't so sure.
“Why would you say I’m happy?” she asked, still frowning, and he chuckled.
“Come on, you’re building something,” he pointed out, as though that said it all. Her brown eyes didn't show any understanding, and he tried again. “Remember we talked about how hard it was to find someone who fits your standards. You found him. That’s good.”
His voice's register lowered, and she looked down at his chest, feeling hers tighten more and more. She did say that; she complained about how difficult it was to find a partner until she found Namjoon. Then, she told him he was her standard and that she wanted him to be the one she found. To hear him say all that about someone else suddenly felt like—
“How did you— I mean.” He cleared his throat as he scratched the back of his head. “What's his name? What does he do?”
“I don't want to talk about him.”
Angie was rigid and unmoving as she said this. Her reply might have been thoughtless, but she had no doubts about it. She didn’t want to talk about someone else when Namjoon was right there. Something was stuck in her throat, and the more she tried to figure it out, the more it mixed with her heartache like oil and water.
Namjoon nodded. “I understand. I was just…”
“Being nice?”
She clenched her jaw and finally met his eyes, and it risked setting her anger ablaze. She thought he didn't need to hide behind a mask of niceties with her.
Perhaps she thought wrong. Everything felt wrong anyway.
She swallowed dryly and looked away, giving them a moment to breathe and Namjoon a minute to smoke. Maybe she was seeing it all wrong.
She turned to him again. “What about you?”
“What about me?” He chuckled the smoke out. “I’m happy for you, all I want is for you to be happy and do great.”
Her jaw set again, and this time, she bit her tongue to stay quiet. The more he said that, the more furious she became, making her clutch the hem of her shirt.
He took a drag before admitting, “I realized a while ago that I might never… have a long-lasting relationship. Because of my crazy life.” Angie looked into his eyes and saw everything he was leaving unsaid — his time would never align with hers and allow it. “So I don't blame you. I mean, quite the opposite. I'm happy I didn't hold you back.”
Angie scoffed and looked away. She was not stupid; she was well aware of their reality. She wasn't pissed because she harbored a false hope that they'd meet and get together, but because of how detached he was. She couldn’t help but despise his attitude. As though he was well above everything. As though what had happened between them was a closed chapter in the past that he had closed long ago. While she was feeling all sorts of things she couldn't even describe.
“Right.” She tried to reel in the dryness. “I'd say same, but… never mind, none of my business. I thought I changed your mind two years ago, but I guess I didn't.”
“What do you mean?”
Her features showed a hint of the bitterness inside her for a second as she observed the Las Vegas lights. The city that witnessed people's crazy and kept all their secrets. She could almost feel it in the breeze as it twirled her hair.
She looked down and brushed her hair properly behind her ears. That just wouldn't happen.
“I told you from the start that sacrifice wasn't fair. That life is more than chasing success after success. That your work shouldn’t dictate your life. That happiness is something else. Yoongi and Hyejin are the living proof that it's possible — that there's always a way.”
He smiled and looked at the floor. “They are, it's true. It’s not impossible if one is lucky to have their time aligned with the one.”
She scoffed; there it was again. And this time, it stung harshly. He meant that their time never would align like Yoongi’s and Hyejin’s, and it hurt more than she thought it would. Because he said it, contrasting so heavily with the words he had left her with before.
There could still be a future in which we will see each other again.
Because she realized, the more he talked, that he was right. Maybe he wasn’t the person she had dreamt of anymore, and it hurt like hell.
“Right… Well, obviously. I don't know what I was thinking.”
She couldn’t even look at him, and the view of the city lights was pointless. Nothing could improve her mood right now.
He kept smoking next to her in silence, and her exasperation stole away every spark of joy. What was she doing? They were not on the same page, and the more she stood there, the more alone and at a loss she felt.
Once her heart was empty, she glanced at him and gave up. She didn't even know what to say; she just turned and walked away. Whatever her heart was holding onto… was gone.
Hyejin gripped the microphone as she sang Lee Seung Chul’s My Love, as chosen by Jin. She was not a singer by any stretch of the imagination, but it didn’t matter because they always did it for the fun of it.
“I’ll tightly hug you and then I’ll let you go,” she sang in Korean, putting on a proper show. “I’ll shout out your name once again and say my love.” She raised her hand to Yoongi, who didn’t even bat an eye at her playfulness. It made her grip the microphone more seriously and change her register from desperately in love to a lover saying goodbye. “You won’t be able to hear when I say I love you.”
She kept singing, but deep down, she checked out. Just what was happening tonight?
Yoongi was mad at her for showing up with Angie, and she thought he wasn’t being fair. He was completely exaggerating! So what if Angie and Namjoon had met and slept together the last two times they met? They were adults. Not to mention that they never mentioned one another, let alone cared. Yoongi acted as though the fact that they once slept together meant that they were star-crossed lovers. How could that be when they literally moved on? They acted like the other didn’t exist! Hyejin was free to bring her best friend to her boyfriend’s concert, damn it!
“I’m alright – those words are pitiful lies,” she kept singing, running her eyes over the rest of the group. “We try to smile but we’re only filled with tears.”
The guys were tired and trying their best to have fun, fortunately, cheering her on as she sang. Meanwhile, her best friend was downing drink after drink, and Hyejin couldn’t even convince her to get on stage and sing. Which was a shame, too, because she could sing, and Hyejin bet Namjoon didn’t even know it. At least she was able to prevent her from running back to Hyejin’s hotel room, the one she wouldn’t really use cause she always slept with Yoongi, anyway. Hyejin wanted Angie to have fun, but something was spoiling her mood. Knowing her, she was brooding about work again. They really needed to talk about that, from a previous workaholic to another.
“Oh rather than a bright and sunny morning, the night’s moonlight is better. Setting aside the goodbye kiss for a moment, let’s stay like this,” she sang as she came to the song’s close. Her eyes settled on Yoongi again, who was stiffly sitting beside Namjoon on the opposite side of the lounge. The latter’s leg kept jumping to a faster pace than her song, and she wondered if they’d all just call it a night soon. “I’ll tightly hug you and then I’ll let you go. I’ll shout out your name once again and say my love. You won’t be able to hear when I say I love you, my love!!”
She finished dramatically and bowed deeply as the guys clapped and cheered her heartfelt performance. She got down from the makeshift stage and sat down next to Yoongi, taking Namjoon’s spot as he got up to go to the bathroom. The others were quick to argue over who should go next, but Hyejin didn’t pay any attention. She grabbed Yoongi’s hand on his lap, and he gave her a look that made her huff with exasperation.
“What? Still that? Won’t you drop it?” she asked, rolling her eyes. She jutted her chin in Angie’s direction, seeing her asking for something else to drink at the bar. “She’s fine, he’s fine, they’re fine!”
“Fine?” Yoongi all but hissed, then glanced at the others, and his expression became as smooth as porcelain again. “Forget it.”
“No!” She frowned, letting go of his hand since he wasn’t grabbing her back. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? They are over each other, it happened a year ago—”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and got up, flaring her anger before he turned around and said, “I’m not having this conversation here.”
She was quick to follow him out of the bar area, knowing he detested having arguments in public. She understood and shared his vision and was one hundred percent set on telling him to back off and stop mulling over something everyone was over with. Following him to the restaurant’s entryway, she already had her arguments prepared and listed in her mind.
Except suddenly he turned around to face her with a mix of anger and disbelief that momentarily stunned her.
“How can you be so blind?!” He said, his eyebrows puckered in confusion and befuddlement. “He’s clearly still in love with her!”
She staggered not to clash against him and blinked quickly, trying to assimilate that piece of information. “What? No way! Did he tell you that?”
“No.”
“Then don’t just say that!”
He huffed. “Hyejin—”
“He moved on! He’s super busy!”
“He makes himself busy!” Yoongi threw his hands in the air, exasperated to his core. “He drowns in work by choice! Have you heard what he’s been working on?” Hyejin frowned, and he shook his head sadly. “He has hope! Or had!”
“What?” She grimaced; was he delusional? “He never once asked me about her!”
“Because that was their deal!”
She opened her mouth to argue, but that she couldn’t deny. Hyejin always found their deal very frustrating — no phone numbers, no contacts, no questions. It introduced unnecessary hurdles between them, and she was totally against it and, alas, unable to do anything about it.
She sighed. “That doesn’t mean he loves her.”
He rubbed his face, calming down a little. “But you know him. He hopes, he dreams, he fantasizes, heck— He probably uses that feeling as a catalyst, as the flame that keeps him going. Or else he wouldn’t be writing about an angel in all his songs over the last year.”
Hyejin swallowed dryly and then shook her head. “So what? I shouldn’t have brought her here because he might feel something for her?”
Yoongi heaved a deep breath. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Life happened, it is what it is. But you were careless, talking like that and not giving him any heads up. You have no idea the size of his sacrifice. I was sad and angry when I once thought I lost you and could never turn time around to do something to fight for you. How do you think he feels?”
She bristled, looking at him in disbelief. “You can’t be comparing—”
“I am,” he deadpanned, stepping closer to look deeply into her eyes. “Love doesn’t have to grow for a lifetime to be devastatingly powerful.”
She gasped, unable to find words. He was talking about their love, the one they cherished after fighting and enduring so many hardships to get there. Yoongi was really saying that Angie and Namjoon’s feelings compared.
“Namjoon feels that way about your friend Angie,” he insisted more calmly. “And you just pushed him off a cliff by—”
“Guys.”
The couple suddenly muted and turned to find Namjoon just about to head to the balcony. He had a huge smile on his face and zero worries.
“I’m fine. It’s totally fine! Don’t worry about it. We’re all tired, I’m going to smoke one and go sleep! You should, too!”
Namjoon turned quickly to push the heavy glass doors and step into the cold night air of the balcony without bothering to register Hyejin and Yoongi’s replies. He had heard most of their fight when exiting the bathroom only to stumble on them, and there was nothing to say. Hyejin was justified in thinking he didn’t feel anything about Angie, and Yoongi knew him too well — of course, he’d know the truth.
So there was nothing to be mad about, at least at Hyejin. She didn’t have to give him a heads-up about bringing a friend along to a concert or dinner; they were childhood friends, and they never needed that before. He and Angie had a deal for a reason, and maybe that all happened for the best. Maybe it was a good thing that he never reached out to Hyejin about going to Boston like he intended to. That way, Angie didn’t know how he was looking forward to seeing her, which would have only made her feel worse, considering—
He heaved a deep breath, carding his light brown hair out of his forehead. He didn’t understand the way Angie spoke of her boyfriend or why she was angry with him. It was as though she expected him to be dating, too, and was upset that he wasn’t. Which made him kick a cigarette butt in front of his shoe and scoff — he knew who he wanted for the past year. It was crazy, but he accepted his heart. And he was fine with her wanting something else, it just—
He groaned and rubbed his eyes, knowing that feeling in the depth of his gut — he was pissed. He hated it all. Hated the sorrow in her eyes, but most of all, the sorrow inside his chest. What else did he expect? That a year later, he’d show up at her door and that she’d still love him? That she would have been hung up on him as he was on her? Dreaming about her? Writing songs about her? Yoongi was right — she was a fire that kept him going. Inadvertently or not, he hoped with his whole heart that he would have been able to hold her again and feel that way again.
But it was fucking hopeless. He was hopeless. All he had left was that familiar and unsurmountable distance between them and jealousy. He would never meet the guy, but he would envy him for the rest of his life.
He felt his pockets in search of his pack of cigarettes when he heard noise from behind him, making him turn with a raised eyebrow. Angie had just barged outside, rushing to him with an angry expression that didn’t relent when she stopped and faced him.
“I have something to say, and I won’t be able to swallow it, so I’m just gonna say it.”
He nodded slowly, standing there just looking at her. “Okay.”
“I’m so fucking pissed!” She almost shouted, gripping her hair for a moment before getting it off her face. “The moment I stop waiting for you, you show up! What the fuck is up with that?! And I know you don’t owe me shit, but you promised you wouldn’t forget! And of course, you don’t have to feel anything anymore, that’s fine. I can’t do anything about it, I get it, why would you feel anything, I just— It just fucking hurts because I hoped for so fucking long to— to see you again and feel that way again and live again and just—” Her voice wavered, and she looked away to wipe the tears, panting as though she had just run a sprint. “It’s not fair that I feel like I just lost so fucking much while you feel nothing at all. I thought we’d at least remember it together.”
Angie cleaned her tears with her palms and didn’t notice how Namjoon was clenching his jaw. His chest was a warzone — how could she accuse him of all that?
“What do you want me to say?”
She looked at him again, anger emerging in her red and tearful eyes. “Did you not just hear any word I said?”
“I did, Angie. And what do you want me to say?”
Her lips trembled as she looked up at him, gritting her teeth hard. She might have been angry, and so was he, and yet, despite it all, the truth was still simple. He did want her to be happy — mentioning how he felt wouldn’t help her in any way. It was just pointless.
“Fine, fuck it, don’t say anything—”
She was turning around to leave, and he grabbed her arm to stop her, making her clash against his chest. He didn’t recognize himself in that type of behavior, so maybe it was the alcohol. Or it was just the longing inside his chest needing every second he could have with her before he’d lose her again, and for good.
“What do you want me to say?” he repeated quietly, almost under his breath, but it was fine because she could hear him. “That I waited? That I feel so fucking much— You think I forgot? How can you even think that?”
He realized his tone was dry and quiet, and it was his best effort not to blow up with the injustice inside his heart, too.
“What you said!” she roared, looking at him in disbelief. “How you said it! You made it sound like I’m an annoying fling mentioning something you’d like to keep buried or som—”
“You know better than that.”
He let go of her, not wanting to hurt her or force her to stay close to him like that, but she didn’t move one inch away.
“I do not. I only know what you tell me.” She poked his chest. “So if there’s anything you’d like me to know, then you have to tell me.”
He gritted his teeth again, facing her with a burning heart while fighting the tears in his eyes. There was so fucking much he wanted to say, but he was mute. Fuck, she looked beautiful, even angry at him. He hadn’t seen her in a year, and suddenly, every second was an opportunity to refresh his memory with her sweet image. He wanted to cradle her cheek and feel her soft skin, lean in to breathe in her sweet orchid scent, trace her delicate skin with his lips until their lips could—
She scoffed and stepped back, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
His hands snapped forward to grab her arms and pull her close again, and this time, he didn’t hold back. “You’re driving me fucking insane. Shut up and listen,” he told her, shaking his head once. “You have to know better than that because you were there. You know how we felt together, our promises, our deal. I didn’t forget. You have no idea how much I thought of you. When I saw you at the concert, I thought I imagined you there just because I had been thinking about you so much. Earlier, when you were finally in my fucking arms, I thought I’d never let go. I wanted to grab you and kiss you, and nothing and nobody would have fucking mattered. You think I feel nothing?” His throat tightened with his heartache resurging at the thought. “I wanted to say free and interested before you even said hello. I feel so fucking much, you have no idea,” his voice wavered, and he let her go. He had no right to hold her like that. “But it doesn’t matter. Because you’re with someone else, and I do want you to be happy.”
She grabbed his sweater by his chest. “You’d be with me?”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “Angie.”
“Just tell me, please!”
“Yes,” he said, his voice laced with defeat. “I wouldn’t have wasted a minute away from you. I might have let us stay around the others, but only if you promised you’d have time for me later. And I don’t mean just taking you to my room and spending the night with you. Tomorrow is our last tour date, and I would cancel everything afterward just to stay with you for as long as possible. I need to drown in you until I forget my fucking name.”
He couldn’t help the need and craving in his tone, and the way she reached to cup his jawline didn’t help. It made him long for her again.
He let his forehead fall to her shoulder, and as she embraced him close, so did he. His arms wrapped around her middle as he delved into the desperation inside his chest. There was no point in admitting to any of that.
“Fuck it,” she muttered into his ear. “I'll just call him and break up right now—”
“No.” He raised his head to face her, staying so close her breath fanned his face. “No, you can’t do that. That’s just an impulse.”
“It's much more than that,” she argued, her eyes hardening while his lightened.
“It's reckless.”
“I don't care!”
“It's not fair,” he insisted, and she frowned.
“What do you mean? I’d have you. You just said it,” she continued, doubt crossing her features yet again, and he couldn’t help the turmoil of emotions inside his chest.
He shook his head with a smile as a tear escaped down his cheek. “Angie,” he whispered, cradling her cheeks gently. “Yes, you would have me. I'd give you my all. I would love you without regrets.” She trembled and held onto him harder. “I want to. So much,” he whispered, touching her forehead with his. “But it would be a moment in time. I can't give you more.” He opened his eyes, staring into her beautiful, astute gaze that he loved so much. “Nothing has changed — I’m still committed to something bigger than myself.” She closed her eyes and grimaced, but she didn’t argue. “And what you have now… is more. More than I can hope to give you. And you deserve everything.”
She shook her head, comforted by his soothing thumbs brushing her cheeks. “I don't care. I don’t know why, but I don’t care.”
“Could it be because you drank a lot?” he asked, and she groaned a no. “You always said you didn’t want us to get drunk.”
“Because the first time, we didn’t know each other yet, and the second time, I wanted to enjoy every second,” she explained, knowing he knew it very well. He brushed her grown curtain bangs behind her ear, and she insisted, “It’s not because I’m drunk that I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You can’t say that,” he replied simply, never stopping his thumb on her cheek. “It’s best not to make any decisions right now. I don’t want to be someone you regret.”
“You would never be,” she promised, facing him with harsh eyes, yet he chuckled.
“It’s not something I want to risk.”
She grabbed his wrists, tearing up as her emotions emerged again. “But you’d risk missing this opportunity?” His expression sobered a little bit more, and she continued, “You think I have forgotten? About our time together? About us? I can’t.”
“No. I know you haven't.” The certainty in his voice helped her look at him and finally feel like they were still on the same page. “And you don’t have to. But you found someone special. Remember? You said they didn't have to be me.”
Angie’s face twisted into an ugly grimace as she bawled. “You know why I said that!”
He let go of her cheeks to wrap his arms around her and crush her to him, supporting her through it. “I know. I knew then and now. And I'm okay with it. Okay?” She kept crying, and he kept holding her. “I just want you to be happy, that's it. Remember? I'm the one you searched for and had to let go.”
She sobbed. “But I want our time to align.”
He squeezed her harder. “It hasn't… but it's okay… I'm really happy for you.”
She suddenly pulled away and faced him sternly despite the abundance of tears on her face. “If you say that one more time, I will hate you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Her anger instantly dissipated from her features as he cleaned the tear traces softly with his thumb. His gentle care gave her time to breathe and look at him properly, beyond anger and grief. He looked tired and sad yet happy. He might have been better at hiding it, but he was suffering, too.
“I'll regret it,” she breathed. His eyes jumped to hers again, and she nodded. “Won't I? I'll regret this for the rest of my life.”
His brow furrowed ever so slightly, and she knew he wanted to deny it. She gave him a look, and he finally smiled. “Isn't that what we're made of? Our dreams and regrets.”
Namjoon woke up to the sound of the bathroom door closing on the other end of the hotel room. He heard someone using the bathroom and groaned, pressing his fingers into the back of his nape as he sat up on the couch.
That wasn’t his hotel room, and looking around, his mind pieced everything easily despite the huge headache. Hyejin and Yoongi found him and Angie on the rooftop the night before and took matters into their own hands. Hyejin promised to take care of Angie, and Yoongi didn’t even have to ask; Namjoon just followed him to his hotel room.
They asked for a bottle of whiskey. Yoongi was the perfect drinking buddy, letting Namjoon drink and talk his heart out. He had never discussed Angie so openly, but it felt fitting. Namjoon was there when Yoongi finally admitted that he was in love with Hyejin at her wedding, and now Yoongi was there for him.
“I’m burying my heart tonight,” Namjoon said, with self-contempt twisting his smile. He was repeating his hyung’s words but without any hope of ever getting another chance. If anything, he was mourning the chance that never existed, even though he wanted it so much. It drowned him in sorrow before he could drown in the bottle.
The bathroom door opened, and Yoongi croaked, “Morning.”
Namjoon just groaned.
Yoongi hummed as he read something on his phone. “Hyejin sent me a text. They’re going to grab a taxi and take a flight to Boston. Do you want to see Angie off?”
Namjoon got onto his feet instantly. He only washed his face and used the bathroom because Yoongi told him to and promised he’d ask Hyejin to wait.
Time flew by, and suddenly, he was walking into Hyejin’s room. The first thing he noticed was the luggage by the door that someone would soon come to pick up. Then, he walked further in, and everything blurred except her.
Angie got up from the bed she was sitting on and opened her arms to welcome him, and he didn’t hesitate to hold her again. He wouldn’t have dared to ask, but he wouldn’t squander the opportunity.
“Hey,” she finally whispered after a while. He let her pull away so they could face each other, barely noticing that Yoongi and Hyejin had stepped out to give them privacy. “Are you okay? You look sick.”
He smiled and enjoyed her sweet caress down his cheek. “I drank with Yoongi and didn’t sleep much.” She nodded and he didn’t hold back from caressing her cheek, too. “You look tired,” he pointed out, noticing her dark circles and puffy eyes.
“I cried a lot… Hyejin stayed with me all night.”
He chuckled. “Same with Yoongi. I’m glad I stayed with him, or I would have found my way to your door again and acted all pathetic like last time.”
“Are we?” she asked earnestly, her eyes tearing up. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, and she continued, “I’m sober now, and I think the same way as I did last night. Hyejin told me I only live once, and you’d tell me I’m being reckless and impulsive, and I just feel like I’m going to drown because I’ll regret it either way.”
Her voice wavered as she faced him despite the certainty in her features. Unfortunately, all he could do was look at her without knowing what to say. The headache wasn’t helping.
“You were right. Cheating isn’t me, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Breaking up over the phone is nasty, and he doesn’t deserve that. So last night was the right decision. But I’ll still regret it. Especially if I never see you again. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. Isn’t that more pathetic?”
Her voice broke down at the end, and he hugged her immediately as strongly as he could. “No. Listen to me: nothing has changed. I have wished for your happiness from the moment we met, and that’s all I’ll ever wish for you. You and I…” he turned his face so he could whisper into her ear. “The type of love we have for each other is ours alone. It’s unique and special and different in our own way. It transcends time and will always take a part of my heart.”
A sob shook her. “Namjoon…”
“So don’t worry. I’ll always be that someone you know, and our time theory stays the same: there could still be a future in which we will see each other again. That’s all I hope for, Angie. That’s all I want.”
#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts smut#bangtan sonyeondan#bts#ao3 fanfic#kim namjoon#bts fanfiction unique#writing wip#bts angst#namjoon smut#namjoon bts#bts rm#rm fanfic#namjoon fanfic#lo1k-diamonds writes 💎#bts namjoon#namjoon scenarios#rm smut#bangtan smut#bangtan fanfic#bangtanwhq#btswritersclub
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Avatar Headcanons (FIGHT ME)
1.) Because of their tails, Na'vi are really bad at shooting upside down. Like you know human trick shots where we can just comfortably dangle upside down to make a shot, yet, their tails' sense of balance it throwing them all off. Think of a cat's tail, it corrects them while they are upside down.
2.) Na'vi have different waves of light that they can see in. Like you know how bugs see in different waves, or dogs hear in different frequencies?
3.) Their enhanced senses are something the RDA uses dramatically for war. Like think about the Flash Bang potential here? A weapon that only throws off Na'vi. That means avatars have slight protection from them because of their human DNA, or when Jake gets word that these are gonna be used, he has Spider come along as their human coverage.
4.) There are poisonous foods to Na'vi that humans can eat. Like something that would stop their hearts, Spider can just casually snack on. That's like watching someone eat deadly nightshade for breakfast.
5.) Na'vi aren't meant for long periods of starvation. Not like humans are. Have you seen how lean they are?? There isn't a fat deposit on these guys, and they are BIG. They need food to keep going. So they can go without eating for a week, max.
6.) There are human pheromones that they can't smell and there are Na'vi pheromones that human's can't pick up. I mean, smells are chemical structures allow us to recognize something and pick up the smell. So if the chemical make up of environments for humans and Na'vi are different than it makes sense that there are smells that they/we can't even pick up. OR EVEN BETTER, the smells are all off. Like if we give them an earth flower for them to smell, and to them it comes off as the smell of rotten eggs. IMAGINE.
7.) Na'vi don't thermoregulate like we do. Thus why there isn't a big need for clothes. Granted, it's be weird, cause that's where most of our calories go towards, straight up thermoregulation.
8.) Human's are better at reading body language between the two species. Human's don't have a tail or ears to give away feelings, and we're taught from a young age to control our RBF, eyebrows and flushing. So we typically pay more attention to the posture of another person. So humans can pick out little details better.
9.) Na'vi are better are regulating their emotions. Or at least dealing with them. I know their brains have 3 lobes or something, while ours have 4. But I just have a feeling that since they have response to another creature in their brain, that they have a better specialize area in the brain for dealing with emotion.
10.) No tumbling or gymnastics for the Na'vi. I was thinking about it. And it's a lot of circular movement and I genuinely think their queue would hit stuff or disorientate them if swung around too much. Like, I know we saw the Metkayina teens do all that diving, and Neytiri's roll on to the boat, but like. She just did that, onto her brain organ. God that had to have HURT.
Thank you for listening to my silliness.
#ao3#spider socorro#avatar the way of water#ao3 writer#avatar#miles spider socorro#miles socorro#headcanon#sillyposting#silly goofy mood#avatar rda#rda
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