#I should probably start tagging my tone huh

[thresholdbb]

Making a silly post

Then people start adding their serious takes

[gubsbuubs]

The Files From New Orleans pt.2

(18+nsfw)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 2K

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, Pet names, cockwarming, Dom Spence.

A/N: Hello, my darlings! Welcome to part two of TFFNO, fulfilling a request for Spencer teasing the reader over the phone. Now at Y/n's house Spencer cockwarms Y/n to make sure she finishes the report. You can read this part as a stand alone smut, if you fancy, delve into part one for the full experience.

My requests are open!

English is not my first language. 🍒

"Took you long enough?" I teased, meeting Spencer at the door. He looked me up and down, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took in my appearance, clad only in a robe.

"Well, they weren't so easy to find," he replied with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me a moment longer than necessary. "I had to dig deep in the archives for these."

"Blame it on the archives, huh? Well, come on in then," I said, stepping aside to let him enter, the tension palpable between us.

As we stepped into the living room, Spencer's movements were deliberate, each action carrying a weight of purpose that contrasted with his typically casual demeanor. With a curious quirk of his eyebrow, he placed the file labeled "New Orleans" atop the scattered papers on my coffee table, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"So, how's it coming along?" He inquired, his voice laced with a hint of playful amusement.

I couldn't suppress a roll of my eyes at his question, a sigh escaping my lips. "It's not, genius," I retorted, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "That's precisely why you brought over the files."

His smirk widened in response to my sarcasm. "Ah, precisely," he echoed, as he shed his jacket onto the armrest to his right. "Well, now you can finish the report," he continued, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Go at it; don't let me distract you from your obligations."

Spencer settled onto the sofa, his posture oozing confidence. His legs stretched out, spreading wide, a subtle invitation in their relaxed stance.

He reached up to loosen his tie, pulling it free with a carefree flick of his wrist. The top buttons of his crisp white shirt soon followed, revealing a glimpse of his neck and the hint of his chest beneath.

His eyes trailed over me before locking with mine, and a mischievous smirk curled his lips. With deliberate ease, his hands wandered to his belt, the simple action sending a jolt of anticipation through the air. His eyebrows shoot up, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"You should start that report of yours, Y/N," he purred.

"Stop fucking with me." I settled onto his lap, his hands instinctively finding my hips, pulling me closer against his body. "I'm not going to finish this report right now," I whispered, my lips hovering over his, our breaths mingling as I leaned down.

His tongue teased over my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and without hesitation, I welcomed him in. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through me as his hands tightened on my hips, drawing me closer, our bodies melding together seamlessly.

Breaking the kiss, he slumped back against the couch with a satisfied smirk.

"You should probably get back to work, you sais multiple times it was important" he whispered, sliding his hands up my thighs. He looked at me, his eyes taking in every little detail.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Spencer leaned forward. "Of course I am" His voice deep and sensual.

“I’ll finish it later,” I whispered, pushing myself slightly onto his lap, my hands lazily undoing the rest of the buttons of his shirt.

"No, no, no," he scoffed, his facial expression matching the seriousness of his tone. "You will finish that report."

"But Spence," I pleaded, my lips brushing against his ear as I peppered kisses along his neck, "I need you."

"You need me?" He chuckled at me in amusement and raised a eyebrow in question, leaning forward to rest his chin on my shoulder as his hands continued to trace little circles along my thigh. "What do you need me for, bunny?" He echoed, his voice dripping in mischief, as he leaned closer to my ear and breathed those words in an intoxicating whisper.

"I need you inside of me, baby," I breathed.

"And that's why you can't finish the report?" He chuckled softly, his eyes dark with desire.

"Hmm, hmm," I murmured in agreement, my hips starting to rock against his clothed erection, seeking more friction and closeness with each movement.

"You're so smart and capable, sweetheart, I have no doubt that you can do both at the same time." He chuckled softly. "You know what they say, multitasking is the key to success."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "At the same time?"

He hummed in confirmation, "Get up and turn around for me, Bunny," his finger raised as he commanded me.

I glanced up at him with a puzzled look, uncertain of his intentions, but the mischievous glint in his eyes spurred me to obey. Rising to my feet, I turned around slowly.

"Stay like that for a moment," he instructed, his voice low and seductive.

I heard the rustle of clothing, so I glanced over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of him undressing himself.

"Now do me a favor and, take that excuse of a cover-up off and come sit on my cock," he commanded, patting his thigh invitingly.

I hesitated for just a moment before complying, allowing my robe to fall from my shoulders and pool at my feet, leaving me completely bare before him.

I slowly backed up, placing my knees on the sofa behind me, adopting a reverse cowgirl position. As I settled I felt the warmth of his kisse on my back. I hovered over him, his left hand firmly griped my hip, guiding me down. His other hand gripped his member as he directed it towards my entrance, slowly running his tip over my wet slit.

With a slow, deliberate movement, I sank down onto him, feeling every inch of him stretching me, filling me completely.

"Oh, Spencer," A deep moan escaped my lips.

"Come on now," he said, his voice firm yet playful. "That report won't finish itself." With a swift motion, he let his hand fall to my right ass cheek, the sound of the slap echoing in the room before he grabbed a handful of my ass, pushing forward in the direction of the coffee table.

"Spence, no," I begged, my voice a desperate plea as I tried to move my hips in search of some release. His hands held me in place, preventing me from moving, as I squirmed beneath him, longing for more friction, more contact, anything to ease the ache building within me. "It's been so long, don't tease me"

"Baby, we're not moving until you're done," he insisted firmly, his voice echoing in my ear as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Fuck, Spence, don't do this to me," I pleaded, my voice trembling with a mixture of desire and frustration.

"Come on, Bunny, better start. The longer you take, the worse it gets," he urged.

I sighed in frustration as I slightly bent to reach the coffee table, the simple movement causing us both to moan. Once again, he held me in place, his hands firm on my hips, as I started to read over the files, trying to focus despite the distracting sensation of his dick buried inside of me.

He stayed like that for some time, with me doing my best to fill the blank boxes with the information from the BAU file. Spencer's hands were grabbing my ass, massaging it gently. Every time he squeezed a little more forcefully, I couldn't help but let out a slight moan.

As I tried to focus on the task at hand, his touch proved to be a constant distraction. With each stroke along my spine, his hands seemed to coax me further away from the report and deeper into a realm of pleasure. It was as if he knew exactly how to play my body like an instrument, drawing out soft moans and gasps with each subtle movement of his fingers.

Despite my best efforts to concentrate, the allure of his touch was undeniable. Every sensation seemed amplified, with every brush of his fingertips against my skin sending sparks flying through my body. It was a delicate dance between pleasure and restraint, with each touch pushing me closer to the edge of my control.

With a subtle shift of his hips, he readjusted himself, eliciting a soft gasp from my lips as I felt him move within me. Leaning in closer, his arm circled my waist pulling me in to his chest. He pressed a tender kiss to my shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

"Spence, why?" I cried in desperation, my voice tinged with frustration..

"Because I know you can do it," he whispered softly against my skin. "And because this is what you deserve for touching yourself without permission," he replied, his voice low and authoritative, tinged with a hint of amusement.

"Spencer, please," I pleaded, my walls clenching around him in a silent plea for mercy.. "I can't take it anymore. I need you to fuck me"

He moaned in response, as I felt him throbbing inside me.

"Oh, fuck, Y/N, do that again," Spencer groaned, as he savored the sensation of my walls tightening around him once again.

As I repeated the motion, in a desperate attempt to create some movement that would give me satisfaction, he whimpered under me, his hands gripped tightly. I set the pen down as I began to move my hips, now without him trying to stop me.

"Y/n, the report," he interjected, his voice strained with desire as he struggled to maintain his focus amidst the overwhelming pleasure. "You need to... finish it."

Ignoring his words, I continued to move my hips with purpose, my body now in full control as I rode him with an urgency born of sheer need.

"Shut up," I moaned, my voice husky with need, as I bounced up and down on his length.

"Behave, bunny," he warned, "I'm still in charge." His hand came down harsly on my cheek.

"Surely it doesn't look like it," I teased, my movements picking up speed, eliciting a throaty moan from him. Despite his attempt to assert dominance, I couldn't resist teasing him, relishing in the power I held in that moment.

"Don't test me, Y/N," he growled, his hand trailed up my stomach to wrap around my neck. His grip was firm, commanding, a warning of what would happen if I pushed him too far.

"Or what?" I challenged him chuckling.

"You'll see what"

I whimpered at the sudden movement as he manhandled me into the open space on the sofa by our side, causing me to fall to my hands and knees. He positioned himself behind me, with a firm grip, he pushed my head down onto the cushions, wordlessly asserting his dominance. Unable to speak, I braced myself as I felt him fuck me from behind, his movements strong and commanding.

As his pace quickened, his hands delivered firm smacks, leaving red marks of his palm in their wake. The combination of pain and pleasure elicited moans from me, which only seemed to spur him on further.

He fucked me faster and harder, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I can't …. I´m going to cum," I pleaded.

"No, you're not," he demanded, his grip on my ass tightening with force.

"Please, Spence, please," I begged, the urgency evident in my voice.

"Hold it, bunny. You can do it," he encouraged.

"No, no, Spence, I can't. I need to.., I need to…" I pleaded desperately, my voice trembling with the overwhelming need for release.

"Yeah you do" his own voice was now faltering.

"Oh please please..."

"Fuck, baby," he moaned in response, his voice filled with the same urgency and desire that echoed through my own pleas. "Cum on my cock, pretty girl." His voice was husky with need and desperation as he rammed faster into me.

As the intensity peaked, my body arched, every muscle tensing with the sheer force of pleasure that washed over me. A wave of ecstasy crashed through me, sending shivers down my spine and causing me to cry out his name. My senses were overwhelmed as I surrendered to the overwhelming release, every nerve ending alight with euphoria.

He withdrew just as I collapsed onto the sofa, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I tried to regain my composure. I felt him finish on my back.

After catching his breath, he instructed me to stay put while he fetched a towel to clean me up. With gentle hands, he tenderly wiped away the remnants , his touch soothing against my skin. Once he had ensured my comfort, he disappeared momentarily to discard it in the hamper.

His laughter danced in the air, causing me to look over my shoulder as he stood in the doorway of my living room.

"What?" I chuckled. "It's not going to finish itself, is it?"

—x—

@spencerreidwifeee this one goes out for you 💖

Taglist: @mandarinmoons @unimportantweirdo

@sunshine-stars-12 @morgrinha

Hope you guys enjoy the filth

[janaispunk]

just think of the fun things we could do

a little extra from the dress series universe, takes place before the main series

paring: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: The plot brain isn’t braining, but the horny brain certainly is. I wrote this on my phone in one night and read it over once, don’t judge it too hard.

word count: ~1.2k

summary: “That wasn’t a good girl thing to do though. Sending me that fucking picture when you know damn well where I am right now.” “I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper and hear him scoff. “No, you’re not.”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), able-bodied reader, phone sex, praise kink, degradation kink, sir kink, masturbation (m & f), dirty talk, Dave being a menace as usual, dom/sub dynamics, idiots in love, a tiny bit of fluff

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Desperate, are we?

Your phone lights up on the bedside table beside you, illuminating your dark bedroom. You grab for it quicker than you’d like to admit, your eyes squinting to adjust to the harsh glow of the display.

You had been trying to go to sleep, trying to accept that he wasn’t going to reply to the photo that you had sent him earlier. The photo of your own reflection in your bedroom mirror, wearing nothing but the lingerie that you had bought today while picturing him tearing it off your body.

You had debated if you could to send it to him, but had ultimately decided that Dave wasn’t someone who left his phone lying around and that it should be safe. He had never said that you weren’t allowed to text him, even though he was usually the one to initiate contact first.

When he didn’t reply, you reasoned with yourself that he was probably just busy, that it wasn’t a rejection. But you missed him, you had been missing him since he kissed you goodbye the day before and left your apartment to return to his real life. You wished that you didn’t, that you couldn’t still feel the whisper of his rough touch on your hips, where bruises were forming now, and the press of his lips against yours before he muttered “be good” and pulled your apartment door closed behind him.

But you do miss him and you can still feel him, which had you tossing and turning in your bed and checking your phone far too often, as if you’d somehow missed a notification.

Until now. You stare at the tiny letters on your screen, already biting your lip in nervous anticipation, when another text comes through.

Are you still up?

You hastily type back a Yes, not sure what to expect, when your phone starts ringing in your hand. “Hey,” you breathe, after quickly accepting the call.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

The sound of his deep voice, even through the phone’s speaker, fills you with want immediately.

“Did you touch yourself?”

He skips all pleasantries, his tone stern and in control, just how you know him. Just how you like him.

“No, I was- I was waiting for you.”

“Good girl,” he coos and the rumble of his voice goes straight to your pussy, already aching for him. “That wasn’t a good girl thing to do though. Sending me that fucking picture when you know damn well where I am right now.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper and hear him scoff.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit and his responding chuckle makes you smile.

“So what did you want, huh? I fucked you all weekend and that insatiable pussy still can’t get enough?” The tone in his voice makes you shudder; this is more than you had hoped for when sending him that photo. Your fingertips slide under your sleep shirt on their own accord and you stay silent for a moment too long. Dave clicks his tongue impatiently.

“I expect an answer when I’m talking to you. It’s been one day and you’ve already forgotten all your manners, it seems like.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. Two minutes of talking to him and you already feel like you’re melting.

“I wanted to show you. I-I bought this today, thinking about you. Just wanted you to see.”

Dave groans softly and you feel yourself clenching around nothing at the sound. “You did? Looking like a good little slut, and all just for me, isn’t that right doll?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe and he clicks his tongue again. “Say it.”

You simultaneously love and hate when he does this and you squirm the way you always do, but the will to please him wins out, the way it always does. Your quiet “I wanted to look like a slut for you,” makes him chuckle again and you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your cheeks.

“I know you did. The next time I see you, you’re gonna wear that while I fuck that greedy pussy until you can’t walk right for days, how’s that sound? Maybe then you’ll be satisfied.” You rub your thighs together at his words, smearing the wetness between your legs across your skin and a whine slips from your throat.

“Please,” you whimper. You fingers are edging closer to where you’re dripping, desperate for just a small touch, “Sir, can I please…”

You can hear Dave’s grin through the speaker. “You want to play with yourself? Want to come?”

You hear the rustling of sheets on his side as you breathe out a “Yes, please sir”, desperate for his permission.

It’s silent for a moment like he’s contemplating. “Okay, fine. One finger, nice and slow, sweetheart.” You whine again, your pointer finger dipping down between your folds, swirling through the slick there and moving up to your clit to circle it slowly.

You’re already so worked up that the simple touch makes you gasp, which earns you another groan from Dave. “Always so fucking wet,” he growls, “so eager for everything I give you, so fucking easy… Fuck yourself with it, go on.”

You obediently thrust your finger inside of your slick heat, but it’s not enough, not when you’re used to the way he’s touching you. “I need more, please,” you plead with him, noting how wrecked you already sound.

“Two then, but that’s enough you greedy little thing. You come like this or not at all, are we clear?” he tells you sternly.

You try to replicate the way Dave fingers you, the rough touch of his thick fingers, the way he fills you up. You curl your fingers, but you can’t reach those spots so deep inside of you the way he does, another desperate whine escaping you.

You’re so close but can’t get all the way there, when his own breaths grow louder, mixed with deep groans, and the thought that he’s touching himself to the sounds that you’re making, has probably been doing that the entire time, is enough to finally bring you to the edge.

“Can I come, please sir?” you pant, your thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles, imagining his more calloused fingertips.

He leaves you dangling for a few more seconds before he roughly commands, “Come for me. Right now.”

You let go, a loud moan filling your dark bedroom as your walls spasm around empty air, more wetness seeping out of you and your body shuddering as you come down from your high.

Judging from his panting breaths, he came right along with you and you’re hit with another wave of longing for him, to be close to him. You roll over onto your side, still holding your phone close to you as you both listen to each other’s breathing slowly evening out.

“I liked this,” you smile and he hums in agreement. You resist the sudden urge to tell him that you miss him, that you want to feel his arms around you and his breath on your neck as you fall asleep. “Good night, Dave,” you mutter instead.

“Good night, sweetheart,” his voice sounds through the speaker. You almost miss the way he quietly adds, “You look beautiful,” and you half assume that you’ve misheard him, but he ends the call before you can ask.

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @maximoff-forevermore @palioom @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter (your tag isn’t working I’m sorry!)

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging, it literally makes my day <3

series masterlist

[magicshopaholic]

A Lack of Colour

Summary: Seokjin realises he needs to have a talk with his girlfriend. Yoongi makes a promise. "i should have given you a reason to stay" - death cab for cutie, a lack of color

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Angst, sort of

Word count: 9K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: Please don’t hate me. Takes place a week after Helping Hands. If you want to yell at me with other readers after you're done , you can do so on the Discord channel.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @purpleseoul7

Listen to: "a lack of color“ by death cab for cutie

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

The ER is quiet today - too quiet.

Nari tries to ignore the giggles and whispers that are permeating the sanitizer whiteness of the room, and concentrates on the breath sounds of the patient on the bed before her. She’s come in complaining vaguely of “chest pains” but it’s mildly frustrating; Nari can’t hear anything except absolutely normal breath sounds and heartbeats.

“Show me where you’re feeling the pain again?” she asks kindly, watching closely as the girl - a kid probably in her early twenties - frowns and gestures largely at the front of her torso.

“Just… everywhere,” she answers unhelpfully. 

Nari frowns slightly, not wanting to alarm her patient while a variety of scenarios start flipping through her mind as to why her chest sounds perfectly normal, not dismissing the possibility that her stethoscope is damaged.

She glances up at the girl’s friends, two similar looking girls who seem least bothered about their friend’s situation. Instead, they’re on their phones, exchanging grins and excitedly whispering, nudging the girl on the bed to look at something on their screens.

“Just - give me a moment. I’ll be right back.” Nari walks away calmly and doesn’t stop until she reaches the front desk of the ER. She leans over to the first year resident who’s manning the desk for the day.

“Hey, have you seen Dr Kang or… Cheon or… anyone else?” she asks. “I need a consult.”

“Oh, um, I think they’re all in surgery…” The resident checks a large board behind her. “Yeah, won’t be out for a while. Anything I can help with?” she asks quickly.

Nari nods, empathising with the annoyance of having to answer phones in the ER in place of practising medicine. “I have a case of chest pain - female, early twenties, otherwise seemingly healthy. Her breath sounds, heart beat and EKG are completely normal and she can’t seem to pinpoint any singular area of pain. Can you do some research to understand what this could be?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, of course -“ She retrieves a notebook from her pocket and flips through it vigorously. “I’m sure I can find something -“ 

They’re interrupted momentarily by another sound of furious whispering - a group of medical student interns pass by them, giggling in hushed tones.

“Not to sound old or anything, but I swear we were more professional at that age,” mutters Nari, shaking her head.

“I kind of get it, though,” says the resident, shrugging apologetically. “It’s not every day there’s an idol somewhere in the hospital.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Like a k-pop idol? Here?”

“Uh-huh. It’s all super secret and high profile, though. He’s in the VIP section and has bodyguards everywhere.”

“Wow. That explains a lot. Anyway, let me know if you find something on the chest -“ Nari pauses abruptly, something clicking. She turns around slowly to look at the girl with the mysterious chest pains, sitting up straight on her bed and whispering with her friends.

“You know what,” she says instead, turning to the resident. “It’s a slow day. Why don’t you take over my patient instead?” she offers.

The resident’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Make sure to really ask her a lot of questions,” adds Nari. As the resident hurries away, pulling on her lab coat, Nari stops her. “By the way… who’s the idol?”

“Oh. Nobody knows.” The resident shrugs. “Rumour is that it’s someone from BTS.”

—

Nari waits outside the entrance of the VIP section, watching as one of the bulky bodyguards slips inside the private hospital room, presumably to ask the said BTS member if he knows and would be okay to see a Dr Choi Nari.

It’s a fifteen percent chance it’s Seokjin. If it’s any of the others, it will be a pleasant run-in. If it’s him… it occurs to Nari for the first time that he might not actually want to see her.

Just as she begins processing this possibility, the bodyguard pokes the upper half of his body outside the room and waves at her to enter.

Her heart leaping slightly, she saunters down the corridor silently, ignoring the two surely-vetted nurses giving her bewildered looks as she pushes open the door.

“Hey.” Seokjin, in a hospital gown, looks tired yet relieved. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Yeah?” Nari takes a few steps towards the bed, hands in the pocket of her lab coat, noting that he seems okay, except for an IV in his forearm and one of his feet elevated on a cushion. “You know where I work. Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

He purses his lips hesitantly. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says lightly. “I thought… this might one of those times where lack of privacy would actually come in handy.”

She nods, waiting for the heaviness in her chest to reappear, but it doesn’t. “It did. What happened to you?”

“Oh.” He seems to remember why he’s here. “Um… twisted my ankle. And our regular doctor is out sick today. Irony,” he adds in a soft sing-song voice, grinning when he realises they've done it in unison.

“M-hm. Who’s your doctor here?” 

“Uh… Park something. Park Naeun.”

Nari raises her eyebrows. “Head of the department?” She taps his foot with her pen, ignoring his dramatic gasp of pain. “Must be some twisted ankle.”

“That hurt!”

“No, it didn’t,” she says, giving him a look when his face immediately drops to normal. She points at his chart hooked at the bottom of his bed. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. You don’t have to ask.”

“Yeah, I do. Patient information is confidential and I’m not your doctor.”

Seokjin nods slowly but his expression is clear. Nari waits for him to say what she thinks he’s about to but then decides she doesn’t want him to.

She flips through the chart. “Your vitals seem fine. BP is a bit low…” Automatically, she pulls her stethoscope from the pockets of her lab coat and puts it on. “Sit up?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow but obeys. Keeping the chart down, Nari places a hand on his shoulder and gently presses the chest piece to his chest. “Take a deep breath,” she murmurs, listening closely, frowning when his heart speeds up slightly. She moves to his back. “Lean forward a bit?”

He does so, and the hospital gown falls from his chest to his waist. His skin feels warm where Nari places the chest piece on his back. “Slightly tachycardic. You’re dehydrated, Kimbap.”

“Bingo,” he says, sounding tired again. Up close, he looks paler. But his eyes look more full of life than Nari has seen them in a while. She frowns curiously for a moment before realising it’s the first time she’s called him Kimbap in months.

In order to break the silence, heavy with meaning, she places the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re feverish. And you look thinner,” she adds, stepping away. “Have you been eating properly?”

He chuckles pointedly. “Hello, pot. I’m kettle.”

A smile flits across her face. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

“Airplane food is shit.”

“Even business class?”

“Absolutely. And touring is tiring.”

Nari nods, placing the chart back. There’s nothing much for her to do; rest and fluids are all he needs and both are taken care of for now. She hesitates, wondering if she should leave. A moment later, she takes a seat on the chair next to his bed.

Seokjin doesn’t try to hide his smile. “Don’t have surgery to get to?”

“It’s a slow day.” She nudges his bed lightly with her foot. “How have you been?”

Seokjin’s smile fades slightly, and his eyes fall. Nari bites her lip; it’s only been a week, but it feels like forever ago. Standing inches away from each other, his cheekbones under her fingers, his palpable desperation followed by clear, transparent realisation.

Despite that, it’s the first time in months that she’s been around him without wanting to cry. Talking with him is easier. Being around him feels like it used to. The truth is out there, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. 

“Okay. Been thinking a lot,” he says, glancing up at her.

She nods. She wants to ask more, but looking at his pale face and clammy forehead, she decides not to. Not while there’s a chance of delirious answers.

“Where’s Seulgi?”

His face falls. “Oh, crap. I should call her.” He reaches over to his bedside table and picks up his phone, only to see a black screen. “Damn it.”

“You should let your people know to let her in,” says Nari, taking his phone from him and plugging it in to charge behind the bedside table. “They’re fairly intimidating.”

He half-chuckles. “And yet here you are.”

“The whole hospital’s talking about a famous idol here somewhere. Had to check out the rumour for myself.”

“Good to know.” He turns to check that his phone is charging and sits back. “She’s gone to see her parents in Busan,” he says after a moment. “So I don’t think I’ll see her. I fly out the day after tomorrow,” he adds, answering her silent question.

“Oh. You may not be in a state to,” she tells him, pointing to the IV in his forearm.

“Don’t have a choice.” He sighs and closes his eyes, placing his other arm over them. His chest looks white, not a single bit of loose flesh anywhere. But she knows better than to argue with his schedule.

“Keep a water bottle on you at all times. One with a carabiner that you can hook onto your bag.” She clicks her tongue. “There is no way that this is the first time I’m telling you this.”

“Okay, Dr Choi,” he mutters, not moving.

She slaps his shoulder lightly. “I’m not kidding. You’re making yourself sick. You look like a ghost, Kimbap.”

“On the plus side, my hair game has never been stronger.”

She reaches over and ruffles his hair until he slaps her hand away, laughing.

“Don’t be jealous, Nari,” he says loftily, delicately straightening his bangs along his forehead.

“I’m not,” she says honestly.

He gives her a small smile but says nothing. “Thanks for coming,” he says after a moment. “Truth be told… I don’t feel that great.”

Nari wonders if she’s imagining the double meaning, or if she simply wants to. The look on his face at the restaurant opening when she’d finally told him, in as many words as she could, how she felt; it had simultaneously broken her heart and renewed hope because now he knew.

Part of her had expected their lingering desperation at maintaining a friendship to die a feeble death right then, but Seokjin seems to be genuinely glad she’s here right now. She searches, again, for the heaviness - but it has disappeared.

“‘Course I did,” she says softly, squeezing his hand. He squeezes it back, warm and dry, and Nari feels like crying. Not out of sadness, or heartbreak - but out of relief. There was a lack of colour in her life but it’s back now, clear, beautiful and messy.

“Nari, look… about -”

The door flies open and Dr Park Naeun stands at the doorway, youthful as ever in her late forties, with a sharp frown on her forehead. 

“Dr Choi,” she states sternly. “I don’t remember assigning you on this case. Are you cleared to be here?” Without waiting for Nari’s response, she turns to Seokjin and her face softens. “I’m sorry, I was told you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’m not,” he says instantly, letting go of Nari’s hand. “Nari - er, Dr Choi,” he amends, glancing at her sheepishly, “is my oldest friend. No disturbance at all.”

Dr Park nods, still seeming a little unconvinced. “Alright. You should rest, though. Dr Choi - the ER isn’t going to run itself.”

Sensing her cue, Nari stands up, her hand brushing Seokjin’s. “Of course. Take care,” she says softly to him before walking past her boss and out of the hospital room.

—

Nari doesn’t stop by again except later that night to inform him she’s going home and checking his vitals once more. Seokjin stays motionless while she presses the chest piece of her stethoscope once more to his torso, soft and familiar fingers brushing against his skin. The medication makes his heart race but he tries not to show it, and he doesn’t exhale until she leaves the room.

He is discharged the next day; a shiny black SUV takes him back to the dorm, where all the members have elected to stay until the tour ends. It’s both convenient yet mildly chaotic; the only time any of them go back to their own apartments is when Dilara is in town, or if Jimin is to meet Sooah, or if Jungkook is entertaining one of his casual lady friends.

As it so happens, the only person in the house when Seokjin returns is Min Yoongi, eating a bowl of cereal at four pm in front of the television.

“Hey, you’re back,” he says unnecessarily. “When did - wait, why didn’t you tell any of us when you were coming back? We could’ve picked you up.”

Seokjin waves his hand dismissively. “Not necessary. Everyone has enough going on.” He takes a seat next to Yoongi on the sofa and sighs, gratefully accepting the bowl of cereal and taking a large bite of choco flakes and cold milk. “Oh, God, that’s good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

“I can get you a bowl,” offers Yoongi, heading to the kitchen when Seokjin nods. He brings back a plate with a bowl of cereal on it, along with toast and blueberry jam. “I know it’s carbs but you were sick - you need your energy.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about carbs right now,” agrees Seokjin, eagerly taking the plate and going straight for the toast, not emerging until he finishes an entire slice. “Jesus. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

Yoongi nods, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Yesterday was a bit shit but I woke up feeling pretty okay. Nari’s convinced it was the rest and fluids but I think it was the super comfortable hospital bed and jelly cups that did the trick.”

“You met Nari?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “How, uh, how is she?” he asks, sounding a bit guilty.

Seokjin is sure he’s recalling the disastrous not-date that occurred at the restaurant opening a week ago, but says nothing. Nari’s transparent embarrassment from that night doesn’t need to become public knowledge. 

“She’s okay. It was kind of weird seeing her in work mode, but - but it was good,” he replies, realising as he says it, that for the first time in a long time, it actually was good. Maybe it was the fact that he was sick or that he hadn’t actually seen her smile at him in forever, but it was the closest he’d felt to her in months.

Kimbap. And maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t alone in it. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“What?” Seokjin stares at his remaining cereal. “I’m -” About to deny it, he stops. “Okay, I need to get something off my chest.”

“Okay.” Yoongi mutes the television.

“I -” He takes a deep breath, not really sure where to begin. “Um… after the restaurant opening, when Nari was leaving…” He swallows, feeling his stomach squirm the same it has the entirety of the last week, every single time he thought about her and that night. “I think… Nari might have feelings for me.”

There’s a few moments of silence. When Yoongi doesn’t answer, Seokjin turns to him to see him looking back expectantly. “And?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Well…” Seokjin frowns.

Yoongi squints. “Please don’t tell me that’s news to you.”

Seokjin opens his mouth then closes it, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s not… news,” he admits. “But it’s confirmation. I didn’t think it was likely, not after the pregnancy scare and with that Jason guy… but I did wonder. Maybe,” he finishes, shrugging tiredly. “Kind of felt wrong to speculate once I got together with Seulgi,” he mutters.

“Does Seulgi know? Wait - what actually happened?” Yoongi asks instead.

“Nothing happened,” he clarifies immediately. “Not like that.” But it could have. Another second and I might have. “But… I mean, I would be deliberately obtuse if I didn’t see it now, right?”

Although it doesn’t answer his question, Yoongi tactfully doesn’t repeat it. “But you said everything was good with her yesterday?”

“That’s just it.” Seokjin pounces on what’s been going through his head for the last twenty-four hours. “It’s been a nightmare for almost a year and then suddenly it’s… we’re back to normal. Kind of.” He shakes his head. “I kept thinking it might have made it worse, having it out in the open. But it isn’t. It’s like a switch flipped.” I got my best friend back, he thinks, and a part of his heart soars.

“What does Seulgi think?” When Seokjin doesn’t answer, Yoongi sits back on the couch, still observing his friend. “Does she know about this new development at all?”

“It’s complicated,” he mutters. “I don’t even know what this development is.” He catches Yoongi’s knowing look. “I’m serious. It was, like, fifteen minutes in total and it was… normal. If anything, the last few months were a development. This is the default.”

Seokjin is mildly aware he’s rambling now, especially when Yoongi conspicuously utters nothing. It’s just as well; he’s run out of ways to explain the situation. There are no appropriate words to describe the wave of emotions he’d experienced since last week, beginning with shock and solace that Nari was finally communicating with him, stress and fear that this may just have pushed her away for good, and a numbing relief when she’d shown up yesterday. 

He wishes he’d hugged her. He wishes she’d stayed longer, or that stupid Dr Park hadn’t told her to leave. He wishes he knew what she was going through last week, if she was truly as relaxed as she seemed, if her confession really had been as cathartic for her to make as it had been for him to hear.

“Do you think you can travel tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, breaking the silence.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Seokjin shifts on the sofa, running a hand over his face. “It should be fine.” 

Tomorrow. It seems too soon now, now that there’s so much to leave behind in Seoul. She was happy. It was, at the crux of it, the detail that sticks in his mind. He imagines the weight off her chest, imagines her expecting something from him, imagines telling her what she wants to hear. It could get complicated, for certain, but the thought of it doesn’t tire him the way it used to.

“Hey, you know what?” Seokjin asks, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “That night, when Nari was leaving the party, she said you were… kissing someone?”

Yoongi goes very still. “She told you about that?” he asks, and there’s a bite to his tone.

“Well… she was upset,” he says hastily. “I don’t think she knew it was a secret… is it a secret?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting to overstep.

Yoongi is silent for a moment longer. “There’s nothing to tell, honestly,” he mutters, and that’s enough to indicate that the topic is closed.

Later that evening, as he drives to the Big Hit building, Yoongi finds himself regretting being so abrupt with Seokjin.

But there is nothing to tell. He didn’t lie. There has been virtually no contact with Miso since that night, and he hasn’t been able to come up with a single appropriate way to begin conversation. Hey, I just want to skirt around the awkwardness of kissing you in a coat closet right after you admitted your psychotic mother has a habit of stealing men from you, so how’s it going? I miss you.

It was variations of this until Yoongi gave up, choosing to give her space and time to process everything and let the ball be in her court for once.

Even when he reaches the floor, he makes sure to only wave at her while she’s standing with Donghyuk and a couple of other people before ducking into his own studio. He stays there for a while, distractedly flipping through his files and trying to remember why exactly he’d come in today at all.

After a few minutes, he decides he needs a cigarette, taking the elevator to the terrace and stepping out into the pleasant evening air.

He lights his first cigarette and takes a deep drag, closing his eyes when the door creaks open behind him.

“They don’t let you smoke on tour?”

Yoongi doesn’t move. “They’d probably have a heart attack if I did. Although my make-up artist joins me for a secret one once in a while.”

“Clandestine smoke breaks feel different,” she agrees, slipping out her own pack and placing a cigarette between her lips. Yoongi reaches forward and lights it for her, and her eyes look brown in the brightness of the flame.

Miso breathes it in and lets the smoke out without flinching. “Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.”

“You didn’t?”

“Yeah… weren’t you in Europe or something this week?” She frowns. “The flying must be playing havoc with your system.”

She means the tour. Yoongi nods a little belatedly. “I guess. I’m used to it. I sleep when I can. How are you?” he ask after a moment.

“Same as always.” Miso takes another drag before giving him a side glance. “Also… I just want to move on from the whole… weirdness of our - of us, you know, kissing in the aftermath of my whole word vomit about my demented mother going after men far too young for her.” She exhales, having said everything in one breath.

Yoongi stares at her, blinking wordlessly before he realises she’s expecting a response from him. “Oh, hey… don’t worry. No weirdness whatsoever.”

She gives him a small smile and leans back against the railing he’s looking over, the city of Seoul lit up under them. Their shoulders brush and Yoongi tries to grasp at anything to keep the conversation going. “Um, so… how are things with - with you and your mom?”

Miso frowns slightly, as though she hadn’t expected this question. “As good as they’ll ever be? We’ve successfully ignored each other all week,” she explains, half-chuckling. 

Yoongi doesn’t know whether to laugh or cringe; it’s not a common cue to take, so he simply nods. She seems a bit jittery; the last time he’d seen her like this, it was almost a year ago at her house, the first glimpse he’d gotten a peek into her life. He’s about to reach for her hand which is holding the cigarette and tapping absently at the railing, but at that moment she raises her hand to take another drag.

“Anyway, I, uh…” She clears her throat and taps the cigarette, ash falling on the ground, “I’m just glad we didn’t… I mean, you don’t have to feel like… God, it was a weird night,” she sighs awkwardly. “But it doesn’t have to… go anywhere. We can just go back to normal.”

Unlike her, Yoongi doesn’t look away. “Truth be told, I’m not really sure what normal is with us.”

Looking at the ground, Miso half-chuckles again, without humour. She’s wearing full sleeves again, despite a mostly warm day. Beige sleeves and a dark t-shirt on top; her skin looked white against it, like porcelain.

“I know,” she admits, flicking ash again. “But I’m just saying, it doesn’t have to be… anything different. Whatever normal is.” She shrugs and when Yoongi doesn’t respond, she looks up. “I’m just saying… it was a long night. I was on edge, surrounded by my mother and her friends and you… and everyone was hungry because they took forever to serve dinner…” She exhales, and grey smoke comes out of her nostrils. “Nothing… really happened.”

Yoongi stares at her, his face making no movement whatsoever for he finally feels as though she’s reaching the point. “What?”

Miso gazes at him, pursing her lips. It feels as though she’s reading him, trying to gauge what his question is referring to. She takes a last, deep drag and finishes her cigarette. “This is a good thing, Yoongi,” she says at last, stamping out the butt. “You got a look into the shitshow and… you’re getting out ahead.” She gives him a small, forced smile. “You’re off the hook,” she says in English, the unfamiliar accent jarring. 

She moves to leave while Yoongi stays frozen to the spot, his stomach sinking slowly. Then, as though jerked out of a trance, he extinguishes his cigarette against a metal pipe on the side and drops the butt, turning around and catching up to her in a few steps. 

“I’m off the hook?” he repeats, voice low and sticking to Korean.

She doesn’t look too surprised that he’s stopped her, but her forced nonchalance wobbles slightly. “Well, the proverbial hook.”

“Yeah? What hook is that?”

“The hook that pegged you to kiss me in a coat closet after I… dumped my mommy-trauma on you.” She shakes her head. “There was a lot going on and I don’t… I’m not expecting anything from you. Not for that.”

Yoongi bites his lip. “So… I’m off the hook for the spur-of-the-moment kiss we shared after I assured you that you can trust me.”

Miso’s eyes flicker momentarily but she reverts to her blasé expression instantly. “The words sound like you get me, but your tone is throwing me off,” she says wryly.

He takes a step closer to her. “You are,” he mutters tightly, his hand clenching into a fist, “the single most uniquely frustrating person I have ever met.”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting annoyed with me,” she replies, but Yoongi doesn’t believe her, scoffing and turning away. “You want this, believe me.” When he doesn’t answer, she folds her arms across her chest. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to get involved. I don’t know why you’re still trying to.”

“You know, I’m starting to wonder the same thing myself,” he snaps, walking past her and out of the terrace. He catches a glimpse of her just as the elevator doors close and he bristles; there’s no doubt, guilt or anger on her face. It’s an expression he’s seen numerous times before, annoying him more each time: the one of being proven right.

—

Donghyuk [21:15] Going out with some of the prods in a bit. Drinks on BH. You in?

Yoongi [21:16] Don’t think so. Too much to get done.

Donghyuk [21:16] Sure? Kim Namjoon’s coming too. Probably.

Yoongi [21:17] You asked him?

Donghyuk [21:17] Not yet.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, although Namjoon might just agree to go. Anything to get his mind off his girl.

Yoongi [21:18] Raincheck. In the zone right now.

Donghyuk replies with an irrelevant emoji but doesn’t push. Yoongi locks his phone and stares at the wide screens in front of him. A part of him had planned to return to the dorm tonight to give Seokjin some company; something about how deep in thought the older member had been earlier today was throwing Yoongi off. Seokjin didn’t divulge much, but Yoongi had a feeling he might want to just this once.

There’s also the added bonus of a hot meal most likely awaiting him at the dorm, for when Seokjin was stressed, he tended to cook.

Yoongi [21:25] Hyung. Need me to pick up anything for dinner?

Seokjin [21:27] Not for me. I’m probably going out.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at this unexpected response, his stomach rumbling sadly. But he ignores it, reaching for his half empty pack of cigarettes and debating another smoke break, when his studio door opens without permission and he turns, his heart skipping an automatic beat.

Miso pokes her head in, expressionless. “Donghyuk’s leaving. He asked me to check if you want to schedule the demo with that rookie girl group tomorrow at noon.”

Yoongi turns back around. “Sure. Anything else?”

She hesitates. “That Chinese place you recommended sucks, by the way. Their portion sizes are deceptively huge and now I’m stuck with enough Kung Pao chicken to feed a small army,” she states in mild exasperation before leaving.

The door swings shut behind her. Yoongi scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. Uniquely frustrating. Everything had to be an argument, and every argument had to be won by her, even if it was about an excess of Kung Pao chicken.

He checks his pack to see about half a dozen cigarettes left, when something clicks. He pauses and, on cue, his stomach rumbles again.

Grabbing his phone and the smokes, Yoongi stands up and heads out of his studio, making a beeline down the corridor for Donghyuk's. He can smell the food even before he pushes the door open.

Miso looks up when he enters, not looking entirely surprised, but - he notes with caution - her shoulders relax as though in relief. Four boxes of food are on the console table in front of her while she unpacks the chopsticks. As he takes a seat next to her mutely, she unpacks the last items in the bag: two cans of lemonade. She slides one over to him and he catches it.

“Thanks.”

She nods, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “I’ve heard the food’s not bad.”

“So have I. I didn’t know about the lemonade on their menu, though.” He takes a sip and swallows it slowly, wincing slightly at the tartness. “Not bad.”

Miso, her can unopened in front of her, observes him thoughtfully before bending over the other side of her chair and retrieving two cans of Budweiser Premium. She offers one to him, eyebrows raised.

“Are we allowed alcohol in here?” he asks mildly, taking the can anyway. 

“No idea.”

“Not afraid of getting caught?”

She hitches one leg on the edge of her chair and pops her can open, taking a long sip. “What are they going to do? Fire me?” 

Nope. Not daddy’s nepo princess.

A year ago, Yoongi would’ve said it out loud. The arrogance of her statement would have struck him in his very core, except now he can only detect apathy in it. What’s the worst they can do? Fire me?

He opens his own can and takes a sip, the cold beer feeling incredible in his chest. “God, I feel healed.”

The corner of her mouth lifts and she reaches over, and they clink their cans together. “Cheers.”

As they eat, Yoongi finds himself more confused than ever. Not only did Miso, in her own twisted way, offer an olive branch and buy him dinner, but for the first time since he’s known her, she is initiating conversation.

“Are you allowed to drink on tour?” she asks him, curiously scooping some noodles into her paper bowl.

“Only as long as we’re not seen. And as long as it doesn’t make us put on weight or bloat or break out…” He shrugs. “So… no. Not really.”

“Is the company afraid your fans will get scandalized if they see you, an adult man, consuming alcohol?”

He cracks a smile. “Something like that.”

“Damn. How do you smoke?”

“I don’t, as much. I wait to come home and do it in peace.”

She grins and his heart catches. “Yeah? Dreaming about the Big Hit terrace while sailing around the world?”

“You have no idea. Sometimes I wake up smelling instant coffee and cornflakes.”

“A man so loyal to his work,” she says dryly, chuckling when he waves a hand in mock-embarrassment. “Big Hit is so lucky to have you.”

“They make me do a lot more dancing than I ever signed up for, so… you know what? They kind of are,” he agrees, smiling when she laughs. “Damn, this is good beer.”

Without being asked, she hands him another one, and their fingers brush on the cold can. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Miso lets go and leans back, busying herself with something else. Yoongi glances at her as he absently bites down on a mushroom, wanting to bring up their earlier encounter today, last week and all the preceding weeks - but it’s not a good idea. Not during this precarious time of… he isn’t even sure what to call it.

“How come you didn’t go out with Donghyuk and the guys?”

“Work,” he answers simply. “How come you didn’t?”

“Work, I guess. And I had all this food to finish,” she reminds him, gesturing to the half a dozen boxes on the table. “You’re only back for a couple days, though. How come you don’t want to, you know…” She does an awkward wave with her shoulders. “... party?”

Yoongi stifles a chuckle. “Someone had to help you finish all this food. Apparently it’s my fault there’s so much of it.”

“It is. But the food is actually quite… not bad,” she adds generously. “How’d you know about this place?”

“Oh, I, uh… I used to deliver for them,” he confesses, nodding when she raises her eyebrows in surprise. “It’s been a few years, but… there was this one apartment over in Hongdae that ordered in from there almost every single day. A couple of roommates, fresh out of college, I think,” he recalls. “I asked them once about it and they said they worked long hours and ordering in from here was what kept them going.”

“Wow.” Miso is quiet for a moment. “So you started eating from here, too?”

“Once I could afford it, yeah.” He catches her eye but she lowers her eyes, almost as if ashamed. “The shrimp fried rice is the best thing on the menu, though.”

She nods, glancing up at him. “Noted. For next time.”

Yoongi’s heart soars unexpectedly before his mind forces their disagreement on the terrace to the forefront of his mind.

“I didn’t know you delivered food,” she says after a moment. 

“Mhm. It’s also when I learned to pick a lock, because these kids in one of the Gangnam neighbourhoods would lock people’s bicycles for fun,” he tells her, rolling his eyes. 

“What? Why?”

“Who knows.” He tosses his empty bowl on the table and stretches back in his chair. “Dumb, rich kids with nothing better to do,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling. When he glances back down at her, it’s to see her quietly cleaning up, her hair covering the side of her face.

Yoongi starts to say something but thinks the better of it, instead helping her clear the table.

“Tell me something about you,” he says a little while later, as they share a single serving of chocolate mousse. “Not your parents or your… driver or whoever. You.”

Miso raises her eyebrows, looking a little startled at the question; it’s clear that it’s not something she gets asked too often.

“I don’t know. I’m really not that interesting.”

He gives her a look. “I told you about being a delivery boy. Interesting isn’t the criteria here.”

“Fine.” She purses her lips and frowns, apparently thinking. “Okay, I have one. Ready?”

“On the edge of my seat.”

A smile flits across her face. “Okay… I’m red-green colourblind.” She shrugs hugely, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Huh. Really?” Yoongi wasn’t expecting that. “So, can you…”

“I can,” she confirms. “I wear contact lenses so I can pretty much see everything normally. But, yeah. That’s something about me.”

“Have you - sorry, this might be a stupid question -“ He raises a hand and she waves her own, permitting him to ask. “Have you always had it?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It’s genetic,” she adds. “My mother used to take me to the optometrist in secret, as if she was afraid that my father would explode at a reminder of a weakness,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “Actually, that seems pretty on brand for him.”

Yoongi frowns. “But if it’s genetic…”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have it,” she confirms. “Neither does my mother, which means she’s a carrier.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not something we talk about. Ever.”

She says it in a matter-of-fact way, as though it’s the most understandable thing in the world for her own issues to take a backseat to her egocentric father’s insecurities. 

Yoongi lets out a low whistle. “So it’s your little secret?”

“Kind of. Strange to think about,” she agrees. She is quiet for a moment. “She really did seem to care that I had the best possible doctors and specialists and whatnot.” She shudders. “It’s like a fever dream.”

He doesn’t know how to react to this so he follows her cue and returns her wry smile. “I saw a picture of you as a kid at your house. You were a cute kid.”

Miso narrows her eyes at him. “Uh-huh. Where are you going with this?”

“Nothing. Just picturing you holding your mother’s hand, going to the optometrist.” He grins when she rolls her eyes. “You did say she took you in secret.”

“Well, she and Seungkwan,” she amends. “Not that we ever discussed it with him but I’m pretty sure he guessed.”

This is news. Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? And he never told your father?”

A faint smile appears on Miso’s face. “It’s a dangerous thing to be that loyal to my father. Some things are better left ignored.”

He senses something else in her words, but doesn’t ask. He remembers her driver vaguely; somehow, he appears everywhere she is, whenever she needs him. 

“Well, I can keep your secret,” he promises her, leaving the last bite of the mousse and handing it to her.

Her smile widens as she takes it from him. “I know,” she says. “I trust you.”

Yoongi holds her gaze for a moment. “Are you sure?”

Miso’s smile fades. “Yoongi…” She trails off when he drops his head, suddenly tired. She begins again. “You know, you’re the only person in the world who’s ever apologised to me,” she tells him. 

She waits until he meets her eyes again, and he’s slightly startled at how sorry she looks. He struggles for a moment to recall what she’s talking about, the memories of the aftermath of the launch party crawling to the forefront of his mind.

“That isn’t -“

“I’m just saying… It seems okay now. Now,” she repeats. “But you really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m not talking about my parents,” she says quickly when he opens his mouth. “I’m saying…” She sighs. “Yoongi, I don’t think I can give you what you want. I don’t know how.”

Yoongi says nothing; his throat feels stuck and he worries that if he speaks, his voice might break. It doesn’t feel like a rejection, but he also can’t find a way to respond. Once again, she’s won the argument. 

They leave soon after that, once they clean up in silence and Yoongi takes out the trash while Miso closes down Donghyuk’s studio. He walks her to the elevator, both of them walking beside each other with just enough distance between them to not touch.

I don’t know how. It bothers him more than he’d like to admit, and he can’t tell if it’s because of her fucked up parents or her general tendency to keep a distance that she believes she’s incapable of genuine human connection. 

When they reach the elevator and she reaches up to press the button, his eyes fall on her wrist and he wants, once again, to grab it and push her sleeve up her forearm. The bruise he’d seen all those months ago feels like a siren he’d ignored; it makes him sick to think about another potential one on her wrist right now.

The doors open, Miso glances at him hesitantly. “I don’t know about you… but I actually had a good time tonight.” She nods once. “Thanks, Yoongi.”

He slips his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Thanks for what?”

“You know…” She steps in between the doors to stop them from closing and turns to face him. “Helping me out… with the Kung Pao chicken and everything,” she finishes, her mouth lifting up at the corners. By the way she bites her lip, he knows his own face is betraying at least a hint of humour. Or maybe it’s exasperation, or annoyance, or infatuation, or everything at once.

“Your driver… Seungkwan?” He waits for her to nod. “He’s here?”

“Downstairs,” she confirms.

Take care. Call me if you need anything. Call me if you don’t need anything, too.

“See you around, Miso.” He waves mechanically and it immediately feels ridiculous.

She frowns curiously but mimics his awkward wave. “Bye.” She takes a step back into the elevator and presses the button, and he takes a similar step further back. She gives him a small smile as the doors start to close.

Yoongi starts to walk back towards his studio, noting the elevator only in his peripheral vision. As he leaves, the image of her on the terrace comes back to him; through another set of closing elevator doors, her look of mild satisfaction, almost expectant.

It only takes a fraction of a second; Yoongi turns on the spot and hurries back to the elevator, slipping through just before the doors close fully.

“Whoa.” Miso jerks back slightly, but doesn’t look annoyed “What are you doing?” she asks as he steps towards her.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again,” he assures her dryly, ignoring the look she gives him and reaching over to wrap her in a hug. He waits a moment, and then two, and then relaxes when he feels her arms go stiffly around his waist.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She smells of lilies and cigarette smoke. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises her, closing his eyes and meaning every word of it.

It takes another moment but she tightens her arms around him. Her fingertips brush his shoulders and - he hopes he’s not imagining this - he feels her smile against his collarbone. 

They step away from each other a few seconds later when the doors start to open. There’s a tinge of pink on her cheeks he’s never seen before. She hitches her bag on her shoulders as she exits.

“Don’t be such a sap, Min Suga.” But the blush says differently, as does the small smile she visibly struggles and fails to hide. 

Yoongi grins at her, wide and gummy, feeling lighter and taller all at once. He’s made a decision, and now she’s in on it, too.

—

It’s almost close to dinner time, but for once Seokjin isn’t hungry.

His phone stares at him from where he’d tossed it on the futon a few minutes ago, the screen painfully dark. He was trying to spare himself the temptation of checking it every second, but this isn’t any better.

After staring at it for a few more seconds, he reaches for it and replays the voicemail he’d sent to Nari over an hour ago.

“Hey. It’s me. Seokjin. Er, Kim Seokjin. I got discharged and I’m home. I hydrated, too, like you said. Still am, in fact. You may have been onto something, Dr Choi. Anyway… thanks for coming yesterday. It really meant a lot and I’m… God, I can’t tell you how good it was to hang out with you again. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it. And… I do want to talk about last week. I know things have been really weird with us for a while but I don’t want them to be anymore. I’ve been thinking a lot this last week - I can’t help it, I’ve tried to stop, believe me. I’ve been way too afraid to lose you as a friend. I’d be lost without you, Nari. But… I may have been overcompensating on that front. I don’t know where this leaves us, but I want to figure it out. With you. Not in my own head, the way I’ve been doing it this whole time. I’m flying out tomorrow, but do you think we could talk tonight? Coincidentally, I have everything needed to whip up jajjangmyeon, too. Just throwing that in there. Let me know. Oh, this Seokjin.”

There’s a click to signal the end of the message, but Seokjin’s stomach churns more than ever, though not necessarily in a bad way. He’s officially entered the ring, albeit to do what, he isn’t completely sure. All he knows is that there’s no ignoring this anymore, the uncomfortable distance with Nari, the subtle hostility between her and Seulgi, the distaste with which he thinks of Kang Jason at the oddest times.

Nari hasn’t replied or called him back yet, but he tries not to stress about it. Most likely, she’s in surgery, or the ER, or even catching up on sleep in an on-call room. He’s determined to stay up all night, though; he can sleep on the flight tomorrow.

Automatically, his eyes fall to the last message he’d sent to Seulgi. Hey. I was hoping we could talk. Call me when you’re free?

She had replied a little while ago. Sure. Everything okay?

Seokjin didn’t have a response to that, so he’d sent her a skull emoji instead, hoping that would do the trick.

He wishes he wasn’t touring right now. There’s a better way to do this: with Seulgi, in person, thorough and rational - and then with Nari, slow and gentle, giving her space and control. 

But he has one day - no, one night - before he leaves once more for weeks, with all three of them left to stew in their own thoughts for that time. Sure, he can call - but calls can be ignored. So can messages, and voicemails, and then before he knows it, he’s back in Seoul, tired and jet lagged only to find out that the situation has progressed, leaving him completely out of the loop.

After considering it for a minute, he picks up the phone and calls Seulgi. Fortunately, she picks it up on the second ring.

“Hey,” she says, panting slightly. “I went out for a run; I was just about to call you. What’s up?”

“Um -“ He bites his lip. “Not - not much. How are you? How are your folks?”

“They’re good. Mum’s asking when she can meet you but I deflected that,” she adds, but there’s a knowing lilt to her voice. “You have enough going on right now.”

Do I ever. “I appreciate that. I just wanted to talk before I fly out tomorrow.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could’ve been there. You barely get any time off as it is and even when you do, I’m not in town.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He picks at a loose thread on the corner of the sofa. “You don’t have to accommodate your family plans around my crazy schedule. And I’ll be back again soon.”

“Can’t wait.” She pauses. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks, apparently done with small talk. “You seemed serious.”

It’s not serious, he’s about to say, but stops himself. “It’s… it’s about Nari. We kind of… ran into each other.”

There’s another pause, a longer one this time. “Okay. When?”

“Yesterday, when she visited me at the hospital. I wasn’t expecting -“

“You were in the hospital?” She interrupts him, tone suddenly anxious.

He freezes. “Yeah, but it - it wasn’t serious. I was dehydrated, that’s all. I don’t even know why they took me to the hospital, honestly. I’m back home now.”

Her next response is instant. “But Nari knew?”

“I - only because it was her hospital. And I didn’t tell her - she found out.” He waits for her to respond. “Seulgi, it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t here - I didn’t want to worry you. I’m perfectly fine, really.”

There’s another pause and then she sighs deeply. “Okay. Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

Oh, boy. “Kind of. Well, no. I…” He sighs. “God, I really wish we were doing this in person,” he mutters.

“Wait. Are you -“ She scoffs, but it breaks slightly. “Are you breaking up with me? Over the phone?”

“No! No, I’m not. Look, I think I need to talk to Nari,” he says quickly before he loses his nerve. “It’s been a long time and I… I really need to know what’s going on. But I want you to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Where do I start? “I mean, you know what it’s been like. But it’s just been too long - and I think she might be ready to talk to me, too. I have to try and fix it with her… I hope you understand why, Seulgi,” he adds, meaning it and already feeling horrendous.

“But I thought she was mad at you.” Seulgi is calm - too calm, and it’s worrying. “Or something. What’s changed?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.” It’s not a complete lie. I think she might have feelings for me based on a moment we shared a week ago, where neither of us actually spoke. Not only did it sound insane, it didn’t actually clarify anything. There was no point bringing it up when he wasn’t sure of it either.

“So…” She takes a deep breath on the other end. “Let me get this straight. She’s been evasive and distant and - let’s face it - sort of pissed at you. And then something changed… and suddenly she’s nursing you back to health during a hospital visit that I’m finding out about now.”

Seokjin closes his eyes. “I know it sounds bad,” he murmurs. “And I know it’s my fault it’s so messed up. I don’t… If I think back, I don’t know where I went wrong, but I’m sure I did something. You know?” He bites his lip, suddenly glad he’s flying out tomorrow, far away from his girlfriend and his best friend where he can’t hurt them anymore. “I don’t want to be unfair to you,” he admits.

“Why do you think you are?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know…” He runs a hand down his face tiredly. “There’s a lot of history there and baggage and stuff…” There's no telling what we’ll find.

“You know what I think, Seokjin?” she says after a few moments. “I think you’re not fully sure of what you want. Or you are,” she guesses, “and you just don’t want to admit it because if you do and you don’t get it, you’re afraid it’ll devastate you.”

Seokjin swallows. His vision blurs without warning and he blinks rapidly, a distinct memory threatening to surface, of hope being crushed in his chest, a life he’d dared to imagine disappearing before he’d even fully wrapped his head around it. He’d repressed it as best as he could, figuring there was no one to blame but himself for this lapse in judgement, but it had inadvertently set actions in motion that he will regret for a long time. 

He’s taking too long to respond, he realises, but he’s afraid to speak. It might all boil down to that one night and the thought of what it meant - of what it might still mean - is too overwhelming to think about. 

“I’m glad you don’t want to be unfair to me,” she states, and there’s finally a bite to her tone. “So call me when you figure it out.” She hangs up.

Seokjin stays frozen for a minute before he sighs, tossing his phone back on the sofa and dropping his head in his hands. Suddenly, everything about his relationship with Seulgi feels tainted, now that his mind is involuntarily tracing the timeline of events back to the day he met her, and then ran into her again. She was lovely and calm and straightforward and put together - and he was so tired.

He needs to talk to Nari. He needs to. His mind is blocked and so is his heart, and it’s occurring to him now that it all comes to Nari. Everything comes down to Nari.

He’d been vague but he can’t imagine she would simply ignore his message, not unless she absolutely hated him. She didn’t, though, his brain reasoned. 

She’d visited him, actually talked with him, and she’d called him Kimbap. She would call. Even if she couldn’t meet him, she would call, or text. All he has to do is wait.

—

Nari takes off her lab coat and shakes her hair out, glad to be done with the day.

“See you tomorrow, Nari,” says one of her friends, a perky first year resident with the kind of confidence Nari could only dream of. “Say hi to your famous friend for me.” She winks and leaves.

Nari rolls her eyes but scoffs in humour. Somehow, the other residents in the surgical wing had caught wind of the fact that she knew the elusive celebrity idol that was admitted to the hospital yesterday and while she’d neither confirmed nor denied it, the story spread anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” comments Hyeri, her friend, changing out of her scrubs at the locker next door. “What did you take and can I have some?”

Nari frowns curiously and laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“That. The laughing and the smiling and the… being nice to first years and interns.” Hyeri raises her eyebrows. “We haven’t had the mental capacity for that shit in years.” She raises her eyebrows. “Is it actually because of your famous friend? I mean -” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “We’re talking about Seokjin, right?”

“I - yeah. He was here,” admits Nari. “Nothing serious, though. He got discharged today.”

“Oh.” Hyeri sounds surprised at the admission. “That makes sense. You’re relieved.”

Yes… and no. She’s certainly glad Seokjin’s okay, but despite how selfish it makes her feel, she’s even gladder that for the first time in a long time, she was able to be herself around her best friend. It’s definitely relief - Hyeri isn’t wrong about that.

“I can’t believe we’re actually out early enough to have dinner,” remarks Hyeri as they head out of the locker room, out of scrubs and in normal clothes again. “I’m going to get in the tub with a glass of wine and fall asleep in there. Obviously I’m not serious,” she adds quickly, catching Nari’s eye.

“Hey, no judgement. Add some candles while you’re at it and it’ll look like a Madonna video.”

Hyeri chortles. “I’m out of wine, though. Can you send me the number to that liquor store? The one that delivers?”

Nari nods, fishing her phone out of her bag. “Shit. My phone’s dead. Daeun has it, though - she’s the one who sent it to me.”

“Okay, let me - oh, there she is!” Waving hurriedly, Hyeri jogs towards the entrance to catch up with Daeun, another of their resident class who’s leaving for the night as well.

Nari smiles as she watches her friend dash away, and catches herself. The laughing and the smiling and the being nice to interns. It’s not a mystery, the origin of this brand new version of herself. It took a long time and a lot of frustration and courage, but a week after the fact, she knows she’s at a place with Seokjin that she was only hoping she would eventually reach.

It’s a start, she tells herself. It’s a start and irrespective of what happens next, at least it’s a start. She’s lighter and she’s calmer - sometimes, there are moments where she feels freer, as though the invisible chain that kept her tethered to her suppressed feelings has been cut through with a chainsaw. 

She stops by the pharmacy in the lobby of the surgical wing to pick up some antiseptic for her first aid box. While the cashier rings up her purchase, she turns absently and spots Jason at the reception, still in scrubs and handing in a couple of patient charts. As he clicks his pen closed and tucks it in his pocket, he grins at something the nurse says and responds, making her laugh.

Grabbing her antiseptic, Nari walks over to him, smiling when he spots her.

“Hey.” He takes in her clothing? “Leaving already? I thought you were helping Dr Park with her trial research.”

Nari shrugs. “She gave me the night off.”

“Wow. Is she okay?”

“I’m not going to ask; I’m just taking the night,” she tells him. It’s a start. “What about you? Are you, uh, free tonight?”

Jason raises his eyebrows casually. “Uh, yeah. I have a couple of things to close out, but I can head out in a bit. Or I can meet you back at my apartment, too, if you want.”

“No, um…” She shakes her head and bites her lip. She hasn’t done this in… ever. “I meant, are you free… for a drink.”

He clearly notices the change in her tone. “A drink,” he repeats. “Just you and me. Like a…”

“M-hm.” Nari nods, but she doesn’t think he’ll say no. Familiarity builds over time, and Nari is suddenly seeing the world - and the people in it - in a newer light.

After a moment, Jason nods. “Absolutely. Just give me fifteen minutes?” He waits for her to nod as well and smiles, touching her elbow as he leaves.

She watches him go and her heart beats pleasantly fast with a small risk that’s paid off. She’s definitely lighter, brighter, calmer - and she can only route it back to the night of her confession to Seokjin. It felt like a start but maybe - just maybe - it was closure.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[afterdarkprincess]

I love you (it’s ruining my life)

Pairing: Sami/Jey Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,372 Summary: Sami and Jey realize they're in the same hotel and meet up.

Third and final part to the i love you (it's ruining my life) series!

fic inspo started with @motherknuckers forever grateful for this idea 🥰

tag squad: @feelschicken @harmshake @elementaldoughnut12 @southerngirl41 @imabillyami and @jeysbvck

AO3 Link

Part One - am i allowed to cry?

Part Two- fuck it if i can't have him

---

Sami feels himself go still in the bed.

It’s gotta be Jey texting him. The Jey who he just used in his dirty fantasies to get off in a fit of desperation.

Dare he look?

He didn’t respond to Jey’s first text, as touched as he’d been by the gesture he really didn’t know what to say. He’d resigned himself to maybe just giving the message a like in the morning, but now…

He really should flip the phone over, close his eyes and go to sleep. His alarm will go off sooner rather than later, and Kevin is unbearable whenever he tries to sleep in. He’s already pushing it with the late hour.

But his curious hopeful heart can’t resist.

Juicy Uce 3:04am- “You still up? Can’t sleep.”

Sami rubs a hand over his eyes. He’s gotta be seeing things, there’s just no way- except somehow when he opens his eyes the message is still there.

His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest. This makes no sense,

His feet hit the floor, fingers tightly clenched around his phone as he makes his way back to the bathroom, shutting the door to block out the mocking noise of Kevin’s snores.

He takes a moment to splash some water on his face, trying to calm his heart rate.

Sami taps his fingers against the countertops anxiously, staring at Jey’s contact open on his screen. How on earth is he supposed to respond to that? What does he say? “Yeah I’m up plagued by thoughts of you?”

He sighs out a heavy breath, scratching the back oh his neck. If he’s gonna risk talking to Jey like this he might as well break all the floodgates.

He presses the call button with his thumb.

——

Jey tilts his phone to see the screen, and he’s surprised to see an incoming call rather than a text reply.

His palms start to sweat. He’s alone in the room, he has no real reason not to answer the call.

Fuck it, why not?

He accepts the call and hits the speaker button, letting the phone rest against his chest, cool glass against warm skin.

The call connects, and for a moment there’s just silence. Jey begins to suspect that maybe Sami dialed him by accident. Maybe he rolled over onto his phone or something, this was such a bad idea…

But then.

“Jey? Um, you there?”

Sami sounds unsure and nervous, but just hearing his voice puts Jey’s mind at ease.

“Yeah!” He catches himself, too eager, too energetic for the late hour. He clears his throat. “Yeah, M’here.”

Sami sighs on the other end of the line and he tries not to read into that too much. “Good, good.” He pauses again. “So…what’s up?” His tone sounds cheerful but Jey’s not buying it.

“Dunno, Sami. You called me.” He can’t help but smirk at the ceiling when Sami makes a noise in protest.

“Yeah but- you texted me!! You said you couldn’t sleep!”

Jey laughs, probably louder than he should in the quiet of the room. “M’just fuckin’ wit you, Uce. Chill out.”

“Oh,” Sami giggles, and the sound warms Jey’s heart. “Oh okay. So… can’t sleep huh?”

“Yeah- I don’t know, tried to work out to get tired but no dice.”

There’s another pause before Sami finally responds. “Jey- hm. I mean, you know I’m always here for you but uh… why did you text me tonight? I sorta thought that you hated me now.”

He flinches, his chest aching at Sami’s words. It’s his own fault, he’s given Sami no indication to think anything else of him as of late.

“Just been thinkin’ bout you a lot tonight. I-“ He swallows thickly. “I’m sorry for how things went down between us. How things gotta be now.”

—

Sami’s gut reaction is to protest, to argue that Jey does have a choice, that their path is not set in stone.

But it feels like a moot point now. He’s said it before, and surely he’ll say it again. And really is that what he wants right now? To fight? It’s not what Jey needs to hear either.

“I’m sorry too. I know… I know this isn’t easy for you.” He bites at his lip. “Been thinking ‘bout you too.” It comes out rushed and half mumbled. Might be a blessing, maybe Jey didn’t hear him.

“What was that last part, Sami?”

Of course he won’t let him off the hook that easy.

“I uh- you’ve been on my mind tonight, that’s all.” He can feel the blush blooming across his face. Jey certainly doesn’t need to know exactly what he was thinking about.

There’s a tiny noise on the other end of the line that was so quiet he almost thinks he imagined it. Then Jey coughs.

“So uh- listen, this might sound crazy, but we both up right? What hotel you in, uce? Maybe we can get some waffles or sumthin?”

Sami’s heart feels like it can’t possibly beat any faster. “Drury Inn, off the highway.” He responds in one breath.

“Shut up,” He hears a smile in Jey’s voice, familiar and dear. “Me too- you alone?”

He shakes his head as if Jey can see him. “Nah, surprised you can’t hear Kev’s snores honestly.”

Jey laughs, “Wanna get outta there? We can talk in my room.”

“Gimme the room number- I’ll be right there.”

__

Jey paces the floor in his room after the line goes dead. He’d given Sami his room number. Sami was coming to his hotel room. Alone. In the middle of the night. This was such a bad idea.

The late hour was making him think stupid thoughts, that had to be it. Because the way Sami had sounded when he said he’d been thinking about Jey- well he dared to hope for a moment.

Two soft knocks come from the door, and Jey pauses, pinches his nose and takes one big breath to steady himself.

He crosses the room in a few strides, opening the door. He’s here. he’s here.

Solid and real in front of him stands Sami Zayn. He’s swimming in a hoodie, and Jey prays that it’s not Kevin’s.

His face is an unreadable mystery, his smile not quite reaching his eyes in the carefree manner he’s used to seeing, but it’s better than the pained looks of anguish that Jey’s become unfortunately accustomed to over the last month.

He’ll take what he can get.

“Ey man, c’mon in.”

Sami nods and enters the room. The door shuts behind them and the sound causes Jey to wince.

It’s a double room, Sami sits on the undisturbed bed precariously and Jey mirrors the action.

They don’t say anything for a moment, but Jey can’t take his eyes off him and Sami’s eyes stare back just as intensely.

“Fuck this,” Jey stands suddenly and gets into Sami’s space.

Sami stands, and he can’t stand the face he’s making, like he’s prepared for a fight.

“Jey-“

He doesn’t get out another word, Jey’s hands are on either side of his face, careful, so careful not to hurt, just to hold.

Jey doesn’t think, doesn’t allow the doubts and the everything to cloud what he’s feeling right now. And all he wants to do is kiss this silly man in front of him.

So he does.

-

The short walk from Sami and Kevin’s room to Jey’s gave Sami just enough to begin panicking.

There was a sick feeling, guilt from earlier bubbling up in his stomach and washing over him like waves.

He stared at the door for longer than he should have. He tries to find his bravery again. Jey wouldn’t have invited him over if he didn’t want to see him. Though Jey also didn’t know all the dirty things that Sami things about, maybe he would reconsider if-

Sami banishes the thought with a quick slap to his forehead, girds his loins and knocks on the door.

A moment goes by, then he hears Jey’s footfalls from within before the door swings open.

Hearing Jey over the phone had been one thing- now being in his presence, seeing him like this in the flesh? Sami fights to smile, keeping his mouth shut for fear of what might come tumbling out of his mouth if he actually starts talking.

The light is low in the room, he shuffles to the free bed opposite the one where Jey had clearly been trying to sleep- this was such a bad idea. This was such a bad idea.

Jey sits across from him, and just looks. Just looks at Sami, staring with those beautiful doe eyes that have plagued Sami’s dreams and waking thoughts for months. He can’t fathom what is face is doing, he fights for neutrality but, but then Jey is standing- god his lovesick guilt is all over his face, isn’t it? Jey’s disgusted with him, ready to throw him right back out into the hallway with a new set of bruises for his troubles. Sami stands, breathing Jey’s name, a half-hearted plea for what he doesn’t even know.

But Jey does something he would have never expected.

His hands find both sides of Sami’s face, softly cradling him in their warmth. He’s so close suddenly, face only inches away from Sami’s own, and he can smell the sweet coconut scent of Jey’s body oil.

And then…

Jey is kissing him.

All of the noise in Sami’s head goes completely silent. He can’t think, can’t move, can’t breathe because Jey is kissing him and it’s everything he’s imagined but better because he’s real and solid and here.

By the time Sami processes what has just happened, Jey is backing away with panic in his eyes- why is he moving away?

“Jey, wait- please!” He’s across the room, as far as he can physically get, pacing and avoiding Sami’s eyes.

But Sami won’t let it end like this, no when he’s so close to getting what he wants. He’s become an expert at understanding the enigma that is Jey Uso over the last few years, knows how to read his body language that is just as complex as any of the other languages Sami knows.

And he can speak it back.

Sami launches himself across the room, catching Jey off guard, crowding into his space, pushing him against the wall.

“Please don’t run from me again,” he barely gets out before smashing their lips together.

Jey melts underneath him, all the tension bleeding out of his body before he starts kissing back ferociously.

They kiss like they fight, a messy violent dance, semi-choreographed with some slight improvisation along the way. Their noses knock together, their teeth clash. It’s visceral and it’s perfect.

“I’m sorry-“ He gasps for breath between bouts. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond at first- it was like I was dreaming all over again.”

Jey laughs hot breath into Sami’s mouth. “Oh so you been dreamin’ ‘bout me huh?”

Sami laughs a little maniacally, grabbing Jey’s curls and biting at Jey’s lower lip. “Oh you have no idea.”

Jey’s hips jump against his- too much, not enough. “You know this- uh, ah- this ain’t what I had in mind, invitin’ you over.” He kisses Sami again anyway. “Wanted to talk-“

Sami wraps his arms around Jey’s waist, pulling him back towards the bed keeping him close, afraid to let more than a few inches come between them now.

He turns them around before they reach the bed, letting Jey fall back into the rumpled blankets before climbing over him, breathing hard as he catches his breath.

He sees the evidence that Jey is just as affected by their actions as he is, his dick throbbing painfully in his briefs.

“Okay- we could uh- talk now, or uh-“

Jey cuts him off with a kiss before grinning. “Later, Sami. Tryin’ to kill me here?”

Relief floods through him and he drops his weight to cover Jey completely with his body and connect their lips once more.

-

Jey’s mind can’t quite keep up with everything that’s happened, but he’s certainly not going to question anything.

Sami had led him to the bed, now held himself up overtop of Jey, bracketing him on all sides, and Jey can barely think beyond the throb of his dick in his sweats.

Sami looks nervous again- the way he did when Jey let him into his room, that faraway haunted look that he hates to see mar Sami’s features. He promises that they’ll take later, and that’s enough for Sami to smile again

Jey kisses him, with more depth and fervor than before, his lips parting to let his tongue dart out to taste Sami’s lips.

He runs his tongue over the bitten rough texture like a balm, like maybe he could cure Sami of the habit with his touch alone. A foolish thought. Sami lets him in, breath mixing between their mouths until they breathe and move as one.

His dick becomes impossible to ignore, spurred on just by the friction against Sami’s thigh.

Jey comes up for air with a plea, “Clothes- Sami, please.” In any other context he would be embarrassed by the tone in his voice, but he doesn’t have a spare fuck to give right now.

Sami moves, pulling him up by the arm. Jey yanks his own shirt over his head and yeets it in the general direction of his bag. He smiles like a shark and grabs Sami’s shirt by the collar and tears it from his body.

“Hooollly shit,” Sami says, but Jey’s eyes are glued to the rise and fall of his chest and the blush that covers his exposed chest. He’s seen Sami shirtless a million times, but never like this, never where he could touch. He puts his hand on Sami’s pec, letting his fingers brush through the soft hair before his thumb brushes against a puffy pink nipple. He rubs a slow circle and listens in fascination as Sami’s breathy moans get higher in pitch.

Jey thinks he could stay just like this for hours, but his dick throbs for attention and there are so many other things he wants to learn.

He lets up on his assault to Sami’s left nipple, and shoves his shorts down to free his erection at last, and Sami’s eyes go wide.

“Jey- are you, we don’t have to do anything like that tonight- I want you to be sure…”

He fights the desire to rolls his eyes. “I look unsure to you, Sami?”

Sami laughs, full and warm, letting his forehead fall to rest against Jey’s. “Guess you got a point there- I’m just, I’m so happy.”

The smile on his face is irresistible, and Jey has no choice but to kiss him again, running a thumb over Sami’s cheek.

When he has the ginger good and distracted, Jey darts his hand down to divest Sami of his shorts too.

“We even now,” Jey grins.

Sami giggles- somehow now being here with Jey, naked as the day they were born, he feels light and free. Like all his worries are miles away where they cannot touch him.

“Jey, kiss me please.” He breathes, and his request is fulfilled when he gets an armful of Samoan lips-first invading his space.

They fall backwards, tumbling into the sheets. Jey’s lips brush against his, sweet, addictive, each kiss leaving him craving another, wanting more.

He licks into Jey’s mouth, savoring the taste of him.

Sami does his best to catalogue each sensation, committing all of this to memory. Each sensation, the way Jey smells and tastes, the soft feel of his skin.

He detaches from Jey’s mouth with some difficulties and moves to kiss him anywhere he can reach, licking under the line of Jey’s beard before moving to his neck. He nips lightly at Jey’s earlobe, just next to the gold hoop he wears.

Jey lets out a broken moan and it’s music to his ears. “Let me hear you make that sound again.” He sucks the earring and the sensitive lobe into his mouth, feasting on the noises it brings out of his lover.

Their dicks slide together, slick with precum, and Sami can’t help but lean into the sensation. He holds onto Jey, tightly gripping a thigh and shoulder as he rocks their erections together, starting a steady pace that feels like heaven.

“Jey- fuck, feels so good, you feel so good-“

Sami’s silenced by Jey’s mouth on his, delving in as they grind against each other.

One of Jey’s hands snakes down to wrap around both of their lengths, holding them together in his wide grip and adding to the friction.

“Gettin’ close, Sami.” Jey breathes into the small space between their lips.

Sami fights for each delicious breath. “Ah, me too. Wanna feel you.” He joins his hand with Jey’s, spurring them both towards the edge.

He can feel Jey’s muscles tighten, feels how he’s effecting this man that he’s longed for, ached for for so long. It’s enough to swell the hot pit of desire and send him shattering in release.

Jey groans beautifully and his cum joins the mess on their hands.

Before he can really think about it, Sami pulls their hands to his mouth, letting his mouth wrap around Jey’s fingers, lapping up their combined release.

Jey’s lips part, staring at him in wonder. “Fuckin’ hell, Sami- you tryin’ to kill me?”

Sami licks at his lips after he deems their hands clean, and can’t help but giggle, sending Jey into a fit of laughter with him.

They collapse into the bed, Jey’s arms wrapping around Sami as he takes the position of little spoon.

Jey buries his nose into Sami’s disheveled curls and lets out a long sigh.

Sami threads their fingers together and kisses the back of Jey’s palm.

“I can’t stay here tonight.”

Jey sighs again. “I know.”

“And I can’t just abandon course now, as much as I want to. Can’t exactly come back to the Bloodline- and Kevin…”

Behind him, he can feel Jey tense up. “What’s that fool got to do wit’ it?

Sami turns over to look him in the face. “Jey- you know it’s not like that with him. But he is my friend and I’m sure he won’t be thrilled, but that’s beside the point. Jey- we’ll have to fight each other. And I don’t know how often we’ll even get to see each other.”

“So?”

“So I’m saying this will be difficult as long as you remain with the Bloodline. Jey, you know how I feel about it-“

Jey lays his hand gently against Sami’s face. “i know, Sami. I know.” He shakes his head as he speaks. “It ain’t easy to leave your own family neither, but-“

“But?”

“I’m willin’ to try. You been right, ‘bout a lot of things. Can’t stand the way Big Uce been acting lately. And Solo been damn near brainwashed, does whatever Roman says.” Those big eyes stare into Sami with full force as Jey takes Sami’s hand again, returning the gesture by kissing their combined palms. “N’ I wanna try this with you.”

Sami’s chest feels ready to burst. “Really? It’ll be really hard, we’ll have to keep things secret for now, until you’re ready to leave- are you sure?”

Jey nods, “It’ll be worth it. We gon’ figure it out.”

He feels his eyes getting heavy, it has to be close to morning at this point, and he really needs to get back to his room before Kevin wakes from his beauty sleep.

“We will,” He murmurs, letting his forehead rest against Jey’s again. “I should go.”

Jey steals a quick kiss.

“Jey,”

Then another.

Sami giggles. “Jey!”

Another.

“C’mon, not fair.”

“Wut?” Jey’s grinning like a mad man between pecks.

“You’re killing me here, Uce.” Sami pushes at his shoulder playfully.

Jey ducks in for one more but he makes a face. “Ugh no, you can’t call me Uce no more bruh.”

Sami can’t stop laughing. “No Uce, but bruh is okay?”

“Yeah bruh,” Jey’s smile is just infectious, but Sami rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I’ve changed my mind- you’re weird actually.” Sami pulls a frowning face, but he can barely keep the act together.

“Really?” Jey’s head tilts and he looks like a puppy and Sami can’t handle it.

“No,” He can’t help but kiss him again, and Jey wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him in again. for a longer kiss. “No, Jey! I have to go, for real.”

Sami breaks them apart, soft smile never leaving his face as he extricates himself from the bed. He looks around for his shirt as Jey just watches him from the bed. He’d burn the whole world down to keep this expression on Jey’s face, but.

“Are you sure?” He pauses with his shirt in hand. “Are you sure about this? I mean you know I want you to get away from Roman, but you don’t- I mean am I worth all this?” Sami worries at the skin of his thumb.

Jey frowns, sitting up to take Sami’s hand in his again. “Yeah, Sami. You are, for real.”

Sami feels the tension bleed out of his shoulders. He has no other option than to trust Jey, and for better or worse, he trusts Jey implicitly.

The expression on Jey’s face changes, and he looks down at their connected hands.

“I’m in this Sami- I’m tired of lyin’ to myself all the time, pretendin’ none of this matters. I been thinkin’ bout it a lot actually- and I’m serious about this, ‘bout me and you.” He still doesn’t look back at Sami’s eyes. “Are you?”

Sami takes Jey’s chin in his hand, tilts his face so Jey has no choice but to meet his gaze. “I am, Jey. It scares me how much sometimes.” He drops a kiss to the worry lines on Jey’s forehead.

Jey nods, “Okay- yeah, good. You still got my number right?”

Sami tugging his shirt on and shoving his feet into his shoes, nods. “Yeah, I’ll get in touch whenever I can get away from Kevin. Maybe I can talk it out with him in time, get him to understand. He can be a pain in the ass, but he means well.”

“Whatever you say,” Jey makes a face. “But Jim just as bad, and Solo been watchin’ me like a hawk since I been back.”

He nods, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “We’ll figure it out- we will.” He takes another step toward the door, and Jey gets up suddenly.

“Wait, Sami-“

“Jey-“ His hands are on Sami’s face again, and he crushes their lips together.

“I love you,” Jey’s eyes are wide, staring at Sami as he tries to process the words that he said. “Not like my brothers, not anymore, hell maybe even not back then. You ain’t gotta say it back, I just…”

It feels unreal, like the mirages that plagued him earlier, but Jey is real, solid beside him. Being vulnerable in ways Sami couldn’t have imagined.

He rubs his thumb against the soft skin of Jey’s cheek, uses the momentum to card his fingers through Jey’s hair soothingly.

“Jey, I’ve loved you for… I don’t even know how long at this point. I couldn’t stay in the Bloodline, I wasn’t strong enough to endure what Roman put us through, not like you. But you were the reason I stayed as long as I did. It broke me to leave you there alone, if my hand hadn’t been forced…”

Jey brushes their lips again. “No use thinkin’ bout it now.”

Sami nods. “But if you’re worried I’m not in this as much as you, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I love you Jey, so much that it’s kind of ruining my life.” He laughs in spite of himself.

“Well at least we on the same page with that,” Jey smiles and Sami can’t help but feel hope. That maybe somehow all of this will end up okay.

He kisses Jey one more time. “I really do need to go,” He checks his phone in his pocket, it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning. “I’m gonna hate myself in a few hours.”

“Me too,” Sami sighs. “Plus I gotta go deal with Kevin’s snoring.”

Jey raises one eyebrow. “You sure you ain’t wanna stay here?”

“I don’t know what would be worse, the snores or an interrogation if I’m not in bed when he gets up.”

“Fair- he can be uhh… loud.”

Can’t argue with that. He nods, “Yeah, that he can. Okay,” Just one more kiss can’t hurt. “I’m gonna go now.” One more brush of lips.

Jey steps forward toward the door, giving Sami no choice but to walk backward as they exchange short pecks. “Gotta get my hit here, Sami.”

Sami grabs the handle of the door, and gives Jey his best “serious” face. “Goodnight, love.”

Jey smiles a big cheesy grin. “Night, Sami.”

The door shuts, leaving him with the image of Jey’s toothy grin to warm him all the way back to his room.

—

Jey stares at the closed door for a long moment after it closes behind Sami. He sighs, just trying to process everything.

It’s late, and he really will hate himself when he has to get back up in less than 2 hours. He heads back towards the bed, turning out the lights before crashing back onto the bed.

He catches a faint whiff of Sami’s scent still on the sheets and fights a wave of sadness that threatens to wash over him. Sami loves him, they’re going to make this work. He has to be okay with missing him.

Jey checks his instagram reflexively, swiping through stories then his feed. The clock mocks him and his barely open eyes, and he’s just about ready to put his phone down and go to bed.

h. uce 4:35am- ily, go to bed lol

He tap backs the heart emoji, and puts his phone on the bedside, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

----

Hope you enjoyed!!! I really enjoyed writing this series 🥰

[lightning-writes]

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 18/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: bucky changes (alternate: bucky gets a haircut)

word count: 1160

tags: fluff, post endgame, pre tfatws, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: none

a/n: a lil fluffy peek into bucky's day (no rue this chapter, but NEXT chapter, only rue)

AO3 MASTERLIST X

“I’m going on vacation for the rest of the month,” Raynor had announced during their last session. “And I think, to kill two birds with one stone, you should try a support group again.”

“What two birds?” he’d asked.

“Therapy and company,” she’d explained easily. Like she’d known he’d have something to say about it. “Support for the holidays while I’m away, and company because I don’t think you should be alone going into the new year.”

(She’d given him space to object. He knew what she was looking for - a confession. Before the session, she’d witnessed him and Rue laughing, more than amicably, and while she didn’t ask about it, he knew she wanted to.)

“Fine.” He’d crossed his arms and given her a pointed look. Daring her to ask. “But I’m not going to a grief group.”

Now, he’s almost gotten through an entire session in a veteran’s group. While some of the stories were meaningful to him, the current climate of the war and the front lines were just removed enough that it didn’t trigger him. Even when the older veterans, the ones who might have seen the tail-end of his war, share their nightmares and losses, Bucky can endure it.

(And it feels like a goddamn Christmas miracle.)

A woman approaches him after the session, extending a business card. “Uh, hi.” She’s probably a little older than Rue, maybe Raynor’s age. He recognizes her as one of the people who had shared. “I’m Ana.”

He doesn’t even look at the card; he’s studying her. “Bucky,” he offers.

“I…” She lapses into a nervous laugh. “I know this is weird, but I noticed you messing with your hair a lot while I was up there… and I cut hair, so…”

“It’s that bad, huh?” His tone is flat, but she laughs, more confidently now, and he runs a hand through his hair again. He starts to feel self-conscious, but it doesn’t go far. “I honestly haven’t cut it since…”

(He doesn’t say since he’s been the Winter Soldier - it’s not like Hydra had cared about his appearance - but she fills in the blanks with whatever makes sense to her.)

“A lot of veterans don’t… keep up with their appearances,” she says gently. “I mean, I’m sure it took a long time for you to regrow your buzzcut.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “I kinda like the long hair.”

“It suits you.”

(For once, a woman is not giving him flirty eyes. They are kind but not motherly. She sees him as a person and not an object. She understands.)

“Look, I just started working at a new salon,” she interrupts his thoughts, “and I’m building my clientele. I’m actually on my way over to work now, if you want to be my first client of the day?”

////

Ana had tried to wash his hair, but as he lowered himself to the lip of the sink, he felt anxiety scrape up his chest. Flashes of the Hydra Lab, the excruciating pain from electricity coursing through his skull, his jaw, his throat. He’d shot back up and started to make hasty excuses to leave, but she had reassured him, gently and patiently, that it was okay.

“A lot of people seize up at different parts of the cut,” she had explained. “Sometimes it’s the clippers, sometimes it’s the wash. Each person’s experience is different, and we’ve all been through a lot. I’m used to adapting.”

She had him stand and flip his head over the sink instead. She’d needed a step stool to be able to work the shampoo and conditioner through his hair. As she chatted casually about her clients, which she revealed are usually from the support group, he sunk into the feeling of her fingers moving against this scalp and the easy cadence of her voice.

(Familiarity has always been a trigger for danger, but he realizes Ana is a lot like Rebecca. When their parents died, his spunky younger sister had shifted her attention from her own endeavors to helping others. He knew it was a crutch, in the same way he’d readily thrown himself into his civic duty. Ana reminded him of Rebecca, not necessarily in a sisterly way, but in a safe way.)

When she had him under the cape, she’d told him what she was thinking for the cut, confirmed that he’d liked her ideas, and she’d detailed every step of the cut before executing it. She painstakingly only used scissors for the haircut, carding her fingers through his hair meticulously.

“Okay, so, for your facial hair, we have options.” She’d dusted off the cape with a brush before planting her fists on her hips. The rest of the shop had been pretty much deserted, except one barber and customer toward the front. “I could use the clippers and bring your hair down and leave, like, a shadow, or I could use the blade… but it’d have to be a clean shave.” She laughs at his horrified look. “Okay, okay. The other option is just shaping up what you have going on, nothing off the length. I can do that with the blade, but it’d be much faster and easier to do it with the clippers.”

“I trust you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can consider them. Even she looks slightly shocked. He doubles down, “Do what you think is best.”

“I’m partial to the facial hair,” she says, unraveling the electric razor. Again, her words have no usual subliminal context. “We’ll start with the razor for the shape up, and if it becomes too much, we’ll kick it old school with the blade.”

(For the briefest moment, at the end of the process, Bucky wonders what Rue will think.)

////

George lets out a low whistle when he sees Bucky walk through Fogwell’s doors. He’s putting on his coat while Bucky is taking off his.

“You clean up nicely, kid. Got a hot date or something?”

Bucky laughs, “Thanks, sir, but it’s nothing like that.”

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’,” George swats Bucky with his hat before putting it on. Bucky laughs again. “You got a job interview or something?”

“No, I met a hairdresser,” Bucky says. “At a veteran’s support group. She offered a free haircut, and I figured it was time.”

(He feels like information is just flowing out of him today, like water from a faucet - and the handle is jammed open. His heart says, it’s okay it’s just George, but his brain screamed, you’re in dangerous waters, Barnes.)

George gives him a look he can’t place. He takes both of Bucky’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze.

“You’re doing good, kid.” Bucky is seized by a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while. Something like pride, something like gratitude. “You’re doing good.”

(When George leaves, Bucky gets a call. In Russian, on the other end of the life, he hears, I have the information you requested.)

[green-agent]

Fate?

Previous - Next

BREWING LOVE NEXT DOOR (masterlist) chapter 2

Jung Wooyoung x neighbor!oc (Yujin)

Synopsis: because of her mother who loved coffee, Yujin had an unhealthy obsession with caffeine. Feeling down? Coffee. Feeling great? Coffee. Passed a test? Yay coffee. Failed a test? Naur, coffee. Her friends joked about her having more caffeine In her veins than blood.Now, after leaving her hometown and coming to Seoul, she was excited to study in KQ University. Will she die of shock after finding out that the handsome barista was her neighbor? Will she realize why people actually have crushes on baristas? Will she be able to confess?

Genre: fluff, crack, barista au, uni au, neighbors au

warning: slight Seongjoong? Yujin thinks Seonghwa is mother, frat party but labelled as Thanksgiving party, let me know if I missed something.

word count: 1k

note: I'm sorry for all the pov shifts and scene changes 😞 but hey, Chapter 2 is here. The story's just starting!

Nobody's POV

7:30

Yujin was late, not only for her classes but also for the new club she had applied to in University.

Today, the president of the club wanted to introduce the freshmen to the older students. And as a fellow freshman, Yujin was supposed to be early. Something that she most definitely wasn't.

Grabbing her things, she ran out the door. Bag in one hand, she carefully locked the door as she clumsily put her shoes on.

As she sat down in the room, she couldn't help but bite the inside of her cheeks, a habit she had. Right then, A slightly shorter boy, probably a University Junior, spoke up.

“Hello, our fellow university classmates and juniors, I'm Kim Hongjoong, the president of this club. I hope you guys will have a good time here…”

His hair was two toned, half black half white. Pretty cool.

He spoke more about himself and the club, also introducing the new ones to the vice president, Park Seonghwa. Another gorgeous man. Yujin had to resist the urge to say ‘mommy?’ Cus' he felt so…mother

But as Hongjoong carried on about the club, Yujin's eyes caught a beautiful sight. The beautiful sight was sitting across the room.

The barista from the cafe…he was chatting with a guy. Blond haired guy, to be exact…his hair looked like the boy the barista joked with, maybe he was the same person?

Yet, Yujin was regretting the fact that she didn't take a good glance at his name tag. What was his name!?

“Thank you!”

Yujin's new cheerful downstairs neighbor, Shin Ryujin, beamed at her.

When Yujin was about to go upstairs, she noticed that Ryujin was having trouble with putting some boxes up the stairs, so she decided to help. Plus, She hadn't met all of her new neighbors yet, but Ryujin was definitely a good one.

As the two girls were talking, Yujin saw a figure walk up the stairs. No way…

“What happened?”

Ryujin asked, confused as to why Yujin suddenly stopped talking.

Hearing her, Yujin came out of her little confusion. She turned to Ryujin and asked,

“The guy who just walked up, who was he?”

“Oh that? That's Wooyoung, Jung Wooyoung. Why? Did you get a crush on him?”, Ryujin teased.

“...no, I just saw him at the cafe, Refresh and Recharge. Then I also saw him at uni today, in my club meeting. I was just wondering…”

Yujin drifted off, well, only the first word was a lie.

Ryujin nodded, “hmm, yeah. He is a Barista at the cafe. He's also your neighbor”

“huh!?” Yeojin kinda whisper-yelled.

Confused, Ryujin mumbled, playing with her own fingers, “did you not know that or something…”

Yujin's POV

As I sat on my bed, I just did a quick review of everything I found out.

The boy I had a teeny tiny smol little crush on…is not only my clubmate and uni senior…but also my fucking neighbor!? Like a literal next door neighbor.

That's a lot to take in. Should I talk with him? I mean, he's only a doorbell away…

But then again, what would I talk to him about? That hey, bro. Nice to meet you, I think I got a crush on you cuz you're gorgeous. Please don't think I'm weird.

Yeah, he'd definitely think I'm weird. And his gorgeous face tells me he probably already has a girlfriend.

What if it's the other female barista in Refresh and Recharge Cafe? I mean, she was pretty, sounded polite. She seemed very lovable.

But hey! We improved a little bit. I now know his name. Jung Wooyoung, it's cute, if you ask me. Wooyoung.

Nobody's POV

And like that, Yujin spent a whole month going to Refresh and Recharge, trying to focus on her studies. She had to agree, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were a great duo, just one thing, they argued like an old married couple. A sophomore told Yujin that they were a very ‘parents’ typa friends.

She spent a lot of time in the evening, trying to figure out if she should ring her next door neighbor's bell or not.

She always got rejected by her own brain with things like ‘he probably worked very hard today, you should let him rest’ and ‘he’s also a student, he might be studying’.

It wasn't until November.

As her doorbell rang, she quickly fixed her clothes before opening the door. It was another fellow neighbor of hers, Karina.

“Hey Yujin! I wanted to invite you to the Thanksgiving party in my apartment. All of our neighbors are coming so I'd be glad if you came too.” Karina happily suggested.

Yujin had never been to this type of Thanksgiving party yet, so she accepted happily.

“Yeah, I'd love to”

Nobody's POV

I'd love to, my ass.

Now while she actually sat at the party, she realized she had nothing to do.

A cup of orange juice was in her hand as she stared mindlessly at the wall. Randomly playing with her own fingers once in a while.

Even Ryujin was having a fun time with her boyfriend.

After coming to the party, Yujin realized that it wasn't actually the typical thanksgiving party, it was nothing like a thanksgiving party. It was more of a typical university frat party.

Everyone was dancing crazily, some random couple making out in the corner. And Yujin could swear she saw someone drink alcohol in the other corner.

So when a hand tapped on her finger, she kinda freaked out, yelling, “WHAT THE FU-”, and then slapping her own hand on her mouth after seeing who it was.

The barista, the really handsome barista. Her university clubmate, and her neighbor…Jung Wooyoung.

Again, the mole under his eye made her choke on air, it was so…attractive.

He gave a little smile as he sat down in the chair in front of her, still maintaining a comfortable distance.

“If I heard the birdies right, you must be Yujin. Am I right?”

Taglist: @dinossaurz

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Banners: From Pinterest

Send an ask or dm me to get on the taglist! And I'd prefer if you commented on the masterlist instead of chapters 🤗

[am-i-interrupting]

I really REALLY need a fic where Caitlyns daiting fem!Zaun!reader and now reader always sneek into Caitlyns room to see her(this takes before vander died) and one say cassandra caught them and pointed her gun at reader,who got flashbacks from the battle on the bridge and she has a panic attack where cait comes in and shields her and trys to comfort her at the same time.

You dont need to do this request its just stuck in my mind currently.

Safety In Home

Tags: 2k words, young!caitlyn, young!reader, fluff & angst, PTSD flashbacks, guns, death mention

You met Caitlyn while she was out with a man she called Jayce. She was hovering around him, picking things up and examining them. She asked questions about why he would need certain things while he gave her half answers, probably because of your obvious company.

Eventually she got tired of his not completely honest answers and turned to you. She started asking questions and you answered, asked some of your own. You quickly got on and eventually she started coming in to hang around the shop and occasionally buy things to take home. Then one night it was late and dark and you, used to the dangers of the Undercity, offered to walk her home and she said yes.

It was raining and you were both soaked by the time you arrived at the gated house. Your breath was taken away just by the sight of it. It was huge. All the houses in the era were larger and more fancy than you’d ever seen in your life.

“Well, this is me,” Caitlyn said, tugging at the bottom of her shirt.

“You’ve got a nice house,” you said.

“Yeah, maybe someday you can come inside,” she said, bumping her shoulder with yours. “I should go, my mom’s probably worried.”

“Yeah,” you said, a jealousy prickling your insides.

Caitlyn grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “I actually wanted to ask you a question,” she said. “Do you want to go on a date? You can say no! But I really like you and not in a platonic way but I really also wanna stay friends so you can say no if you think it’s too much or you don’t want to or—“

“I’d love to,” you told her and she smiled.

She brushed some of the hair stuck to her forehead away from it and squeezed your hand. “How about this weekend? Meet me at the bridge?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said.

You went back to the Last Drop with the smallest skip in your step.

“You look happy,” Vander said as you sat down at the counter. “What happened?”

You sat back in your seat. “Can I just be happy?” you asked.

“No, no, of course you can,” he said, moving to grab you a cup and make you a nonalcoholic drink. “Just wondering what made you come in with such a big smile on your face is all.”

You shrugged and looked off to the side. It wasn’t busy tonight. It normally wasn’t when rain was on the forecast, except for the occasional few who came in trying to escape it.

Vander handed you your cup and you took it before you went downstairs to find Vi, Powder, Claggor, and Mylo all sitting, sprawled out over the couches.

“You’re late,” Vi said.

You took a long sip of your drink and spun around as you debated whether or not to tell them before you just blurted it out, “I’ve got a date this weekend.”

Powder was the first to react, sitting straight where she was hunched over the table, a screwdriver and whatever she was working on once in hand now on the table. “What?!” she asked, no anger, simply excitement in her tone.

“You? You got a date?” Mylo asked.

“Congratulations,” Claggor said, “who is it?”

Powder stood up and grabbed your hand. “Can I help you pick out an outfit?” she asked, tugging on your hand once with every word.

“Huh,” Vi said as she relaxed in her chair.

Together, with all their help (Mylo being the least helpful and Ekko heard from Powder and coming in to help), you picked out an outfit. It was your only pair of pants that weren’t covered in patchwork or holes paired with a cropped, sleeveless shirt with frog buttons in a color Claggor and Ekko swore matched your skin tone perfectly and shoes that Vi helped you clean and try to shine. You also let Powder do your hair.

You met Caitlyn at the bridge and she looked at you with eyebrows high, eyes wide, and mouth low as a blush started to fork over her cheeks. She held out her hand and led you into the woods.

“I found this place while I was doing some target practice,” she said.

Eventually you got to a small pond. Caitlyn spread out the blanket she got while you squatted near the water. You put your hand under it and watched it drip off your fingers when you brought it out. You’d never seen water this clean, especially water that hadn’t been run through some piping system.

“This place is beautiful,” you said.

“I know, right?” Caitlyn replied as she started taking foods and drink out of a basket she’d brought. “It’s nice to get away from the cities, all the mechanical stuff and just bask in nature.”

“Yeah,” you said, agreeing absentmindedly as you looked up. You could see the sky, blue and clear, through the small clearing in the trees above you. “It really is.”

Caitlyn stood beside you for a moment. Then she hesitantly grabbed your hand. When you squeezed it, still taking in the sights more than you were processing what was happening, she leaned against you.

“Are you hungry? I brought food.”

You ate the best meal you’d ever had that day in company you enjoyed more than you enjoyed most. You laughed a lot. You smiled so much your cheeks hurt. You felt safe. You’d never felt that before but here, with Caitlyn, you truly, fully felt safe. It was a nice feeling to have.

You went back that night with your head in the clouds and recounted everything to Powder who hung onto your every word and Vi who scoffed and acted like she didn’t care but you could tell she did. You were, after all, the first of the group to go on a real date with someone you liked and who liked you, for now they’d have to live vicariously through you.

It didn’t take long into your tentative relationship for Caitlyn to start sneaking you into her room. It was large. A bed bigger than any you’d seen pressed against the middle of the wall, a dresser beside it, a desk in a different corner, a storage box parallel to it. It was huge.

Eventually though, you got into a habit of sneaking into her room after you were finished working and she’d bring you some of the high quality food prepared for a council member and her family for your own dinner. Occasionally you’d save any sweets she may have brought to give to the others. That was when Mylo finally admitted that maybe you having a girlfriend wasn’t a completely awful thing.

You were sneaking in one night when your foot caught the window and you fell. You muffled your own grunt and stayed still for a moment. You couldn’t hear anything, no footsteps, no talking. Maybe no one heard you.

You righted yourself and brushed off your clothes. You’d been trying to keep your clothes cleaned these past few weeks, if purely because you didn’t want to get Caitlyn’s pretty, expensive things dirty. Maybe it didn’t matter as much to her but just a couple things from her room alone could feed you and your friends for over a month in the Lanes.

You sat down on Caitlyn’s footstool and retied your shoe. It was stupid of you to not have done so earlier. You should know better by now. You did, actually. You should do better. Just because Caitlyn was your girlfriend and an alley didn’t mean everyone in Piltover was.

You shook your head as you finished your retying. Then you stood up.

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you debated what to do with your time spent waiting on Caitlyn. Obviously, it couldn’t be something that would draw attention. It couldn’t be loud or cause a lot of movement.

You sighed.

Then suddenly the door opened and a woman holding a rifle was in your face. You immediately stumbled backward.

Powder running for Vi. An enforcer with a rifle. You ran for her. Tackled her down just as a gunshot rang out. Losing sight of Vi in the process.

“Mom! Wait!” Caitlyn’s voice said as you fell to the ground.

Yelling voices drowned out by the sounds of fighting. Fire everywhere. Smoke filled your lungs. Powder’s hand in yours as you continued to search for Vi.

“She’s a friend. She’s my friend,” Caitlyn said as the sound of hurried footsteps drew closer.

Running towards Violet. A bomb sounded in the distance. She grew closer.

A hand gently touched your shoulder.

You grabbed Vi’s hand and yanked her and Powder out of the main thoroughfare of the fighting.

“Hey, are you okay?” Caitlyn asked. “Talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

A body next you. A body far away. Bodies everywhere. Your parents’ bodies. A broken cry for them to be okay, to wake up, they were scaring you.

Caitlyn called your name and ran her hands up and down your arms.

Your name being said, distant, so distant. A hand on your arm guiding you away.

Caitlyn’s hands cradled your face, wiping away tears you hadn’t processed fall. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. You're with me.”

“You’re safe here with me, kid. It’s all over now. I promise.”

Caitlyn’s hand grabbed your own and held it to her chest. Your fingers twitched as you could feel her heartbeat, her chest rise and fall.

“Breathe with me,” she said before doing an over exaggerated breath.

“Breathe, kid. Breathe.”

You copied her best you could.

Slowly but surely you calmed down and she held you close. “It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” she said and you believed her. Surrounded by stuffy Piltover things, you believed her.

You slowly wrapped your arms around her and held her just as close. You breathed in the smell of pine trees and nuzzled your head against soft fabric.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” she asked.

“Please,” you said, voice broken.

She helped you up and you almost numbly suggest that she change, don’t want people to know that a Pilty is down in the Lanes. She dressed down as best as she could and dragged you through her front door, past her mom who she glared at and her dad who looked at you with sympathy you didn’t care to see.

For the first time, you led her to your home. Down the mineshaft and through the streets until you got to the Last Drop. You held her hand tightly the entire time and no one gave you trouble, recognizing you as one of Vander’s kids or not seeing you as prime mugging targets.

You opened the door to the Drop and Vander looked up immediately. His brows furrowed with worry and he stepped out from behind the counter.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you aside and letting you drag Caitlyn along with you.

You didn’t say anything, just used your free arm to hug him. He hugged you back hesitantly, carefully, so gently. Caitlyn squeezed your hand.

“I should probably go,” she said when you pulled away.

“Nonsense,” Vander said. “It’s dangerous at the best of times. Wait until morning at least. Come on, let’s get you downstairs.”

Vander didn’t go back up until he saw you in the care of Vi and Powder who you immediately drew into hugs. You pulled Caitlyn into your bed with the duo of sisters and cuddled up to her while Powder and Vi settled next to you. Powder with her head laying on your thigh and Vi with her hand on your ankle.

Caitlyn gingerly wrapped her arms around your torso and rested her head against yours.

“I love you,” she said in a quiet voice. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

You hugged her back tighter and fell asleep with her in your arms and the tight feeling in your heart just a little bit looser.

[iwonderwh0]

The vote for the tag name has ended

I think all top three (platoniconk, HCFriendship, placonk) are actually really nice and can be used as well, but #platoniconk is now final 🎉

Once again about what is this tag for

The goal is to create a way to search posts that feature Hank and Connor in a neutral (platonic) context.

This means that nothing in a specific post explicitly implies romantic or familial (as in father/son) interpretation. You personally may prefer either or neither, but this tag would mean that nothing in original post makes it look like it belongs to one of those headcanons.

Why? Because it's frustrating that the fandom is split between these two interpretations and completely ignores the secret third option (or makes it impossible to search for it without stumbling into these two in process), which shouldn't be secret and shouldn't be third.

It's NOT a subtag for father/son. Do not use it to mark posts that are implying those roles.

It's NOT a subtag for hankcon, so don't tag posts that obviously fall into romantic category.

It's NOT a tag to use for the discourse on posts where you tell how much you hate one of the mentioned interpretations (it is generally a bad tone to tag your hate, but people are still doing it, so I'll mention it. Please keep the discourse away from this tag, it's a neutral zone and should be used as such.)

I don't expect anyone to use it, but it sure would be nice if we could make this interpretation more visible and searchable.

I'll be using it – that's at least one person, which is one more than it was before. I sure would have been pretty happy if when I just came here a tag like that already existed, it would have made my experience less frustrating, as I pretty frankly disliked both of the most popular interpretations.

I have a ton of old posts to go over and tag accordingly, which will probably flood the tag, but huh, gotta start somewhere.

[eatmyscepter]

What the hell?

pairing: jack russell x gn!reader

words: 2,349

tags/warnings: fluff, first meetings, teeny bit of angst, jack being the sweetest ever, reader is a monster hunter, jack is probably ooc for most of it but it’s fine lol, kinda erased elsa from being a big part of the story sorry :(

summary: You are a monster hunter, a quite good one, and you’re invited to Ulysses Bloodstones funeral. There, you and a few other hunters compete for the ultimate prize; the Bloodstone. At this twisted funeral, you meet Jack, another hunter. But, something about him is different than the other hunters.

also on ao3

Okay, let’s get this straight. You weren’t like all the rest of these monster hunters - greedy, vile, and power-seeking. No, no. But you could be if you had to be.

A lot of people have underestimated you and your abilities. Frankly, they were all wrong to assume. You always got the job done, when you had to.

Also, let’s get one more thing straight. You didn’t necessarily want the Bloodstone. You were invited to the funeral of Ulysses Bloodstone, a dramatic and powerful hunter. During the funeral, you learned that you and all of the other hunters here would be competing for the red stone. Interesting.

Really, the only reason you even came was because you wanted to keep the Bloodstone out of the hands of these maniacs. Sure, you could argue everyone in this field was a maniac, but you swore you were different. I mean, you were raised and trained to do this. What else were you supposed to do with your life?

After the speech made by the lifeless, but animated, corpse of the deceased Bloodstone, you and the rest of the hunters got out of your seats, ready to follow Verussa to the gardens. As you stood up, you looked around, trying to observe who you were up against.

Your eyes scanned the small crowd and landed on a short man, with white paint consisting of dots and lines coating the perimeter of his face. He seemed to be nervous, a bit of sweat on his forehead. He didn’t seem like he could be a hunter. He didn’t seem like the rest of these people. But to be fair neither did you, yet you have killed many monsters. You then remembered Verussa saying he had killed over a hundred monsters. Hm.

With furrowed brows, you walked over to the man. As you got closer, he looked surprised, but tried to mask it.

“So over a hundred kills, huh? That’s impressive.” The man lifted his brows, in confusion. You continued, “I’m just surprised since you don’t really look like the type to kill.. anything.” You laughed.

He smiled in reply. Then he said, “Ah, well who does look the type?” Your eyes lit up in amusement.

“Ha, you’re funny. I’m Y/N. And who are you exactly?” You asked, smirking.

“My name is Jack. Jack Russell.” He said as he started to hold his hand out for you.

You tried to hold in laughter, but failed. “Jack? Russell? Like the dog?”

Jack chuckled in reply to your questioning. “Sadly, yes.”

A silence fell on the two of you, as the laughter died down. Jack tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t. He looked up at your face. You too had paint markings on your face. Your paint was definitely different than his though; you had light blue paint curved under your eyes and cheeks. It looked absolutely beautiful with your skin tone.

“The paint on your face, is that a family thing? I’m only wondering because mine is..” Jack asked, genuinely curious.

“No, it’s not. I just think it looks kinda cool.” Jack laughed at that.

The two of you stood there for a few more seconds, smiling at each other. Both of your heads perked up when you heard Verussa telling the crowd to follow her.

“We should get going..” Jack trailed off. You nodded in agreement and the two of you started walking, following the rest of the hunters.

Eventually, you got to the entrance of the gardens. There was a table with candles and an open skull on it. Verussa directed all of you to take something out of the skull. You went second to last, a man with dark lines of paint across his face going right after you.

The older, bigger man looked over at Jacks palm and said, “Lucky bastard.” You were confused at this, but soon figured out what it meant when Verussa explained that Jack gets to go in first.

You then looked over at Jack, him looking back at you soon after. You sent an awkward smile his way, to comfort him. But, why? You guys are competing for the Bloodstone. And hell, he might even try to kill you to get it. Why were you wanting to comfort him?

You felt less foolish when he sent a smile back your way.

Jack turned around and walked away from you and the rest of the hunters to enter the gardens.

A little while later, you were able to enter the chaos filled grounds. You were a little nervous, but decided that wouldn’t be of any help and pushed the feeling down.

You advanced in the broken down gardens, trying to be as quiet as possible. You were more nervous about the hunters than the monster. Plus, the monster was weakened by the stone. However, the hunters were strengthened with the idea of calling the powerful stone theirs.

As you continued to walk slowly and cautiously around the place, you heard a noise coming from the bushes around the corner. You carefully peeked around the tall bush and saw.. Jack talking to the bush?

“What the hell are you doing?” You whispered, but still trying to get the effect of yelling.

Jack whipped around, obviously startled by your intrusion. He looked around before grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him.

As you were inches away from him, he looked at you and said in a hushed voice, “This is going to sound crazy, I know, but the monster that they have here is my friend. I’m trying to rescue him.” He said as he pulled back the leaves in the way and revealed a huge, swamp-like monster sitting in there.

You gasped, but as you started to talk, Jack covered your mouth with his hand. You furrowed your eyes in confusion. What the hell was happening?

Once he trusted you calmed down, he released his hand from covering your mouth. You smacked him on the shoulder in response.

“What the hell?! So,” you paused, “so are you even a monster hunter? How did you even get invited here?” You asked him.

“I am.. kind of.. a monster hunter.” He replied, not feeling like going in depth with any answers.

You shook your head in disbelief.

The noise of someone running in your general direction made you and Jack freeze. You stood there, wondering who it was. After a few seconds, you saw the hunter with the all white outfit pausing to look at the pair of you and the start sprinting toward you.

Jack tried to get the leaves on the bush to go back, to hide the monster. Then he grabbed your hand, beginning to run away from the tall hunter.

As you two were running, Jack spotted a small building in one of the sections of the garden. Jack let go of your hand, to open the door, and ushered you into the room. The hunter chairing you wasn’t far behind, so Jack slammed the door.

Right as he did he heard a voice that was definitely not yours say, “..door! ugh!” He turned around, wondering who it was.

Elsa Bloodstone.

You walked closer to the door, trying to get it open. Locked. Great.

You too turned toward Elsa, curious to what she was doing in here. Your eyes scanned her body, and when they got to her legs you noticed she was bleeding quite badly.

Apparently, Jack was doing the same as you. Right before you were going to say something he blurted out, “You’re hurt. Can I help you?”

Elsa put her hands up in defence, “No!”

“Okay..” Jack said, turning towards you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern laced in his voice.

You nodded at him, a soft smile on your lips. He smiled and nodded back.

The three of you stood, and sat, in silence. Uncomfortable silence. No offense to them, but you didn’t exactly want to be stuck in a room full of dead Bloodstones.

“Okay, how do we get out of here? Is there a key, axe, anything?” Jack suggested.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Elsa replied, annoyed already.

You sigh, stretching, before sitting on the dirty ground. Jack walks closer to you, doing a twirl before sitting next to you.

You look over at the man. He looks tired. You’re positive you do as well.

“So,” you start, “you and the monster are friends. How does that even happen?”

Jack smiles at your question.

“Uh, it is kind of a long story. And I can’t really tell it, right now.” He states, not wanting to tell you about himself yet.

“Oh, okay.” You say, kind of disappointed. You were extremely curious on how a man and a.. thing.. like that could be friends.

Elsa interrupted your thoughts by climbing up the pile of coffins. You and Jack looked at each other, confused by her actions.

“What are you doing?” Jack questioned.

“My dad used to tell me stories about my crazy Aunt. She was positive she would come back from the dead. And when she did,” Elsa paused her story to beat the glass from the coffin. She reached her hand in the home of her dead Aunt and grabbed anything she could find. Eventually she found something of use. Keys.

Elsa continued, showing the keys to the two of you, “she would need an escape plan.”

You smiled at her, jumping up and down in child-like excitement. Jack smiled a little as well.

Elsa climbed down from her families resting places and landed firmly on the ground. She walked over to the door and unlocked it. You turned to Jack and held your hand up, for a high five. He smirked and returned it.

The three of you stood outside of the tomb and started to make up the plan. While inside, Jack stated he didn’t want the Bloodstone. He proposed that if Elsa could help him get the monster free from this mess, he would gladly give her the stone that ran in her family. You should’ve been offended that you would get nothing from this endeavor, but you just wanted to go home and take a long, hot bath. With bubbles of course!

You guys decided that Elsa would go get Ted, while you and Jack try to explode the wall with a tiny bomb Jack had, for some reason.

As Jack was going over how to turn the bomb on with Elsa, he accidentally twisted it, causing the bomb to start beeping.

The three of you looked at each other and then scattered off, starting the plan a bit earlier than expected.

You and Jack ran off to the opposite of where Elsa was headed. You two were running towards the edge of the gardens, so when you place the bomb on the wall, Ted could run into the woods.

You finally got to your destination. Jack ran closer to the wall than you, since he was the one with the tiny bomb. He threw it at the wall and ran behind a big rock. The bomb landed in the grass.

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed.

He tried that several more times before you told him to put it in the crack that was running along the rock wall. He listened to you and as the bomb was about to go off, he grabbed your forearm and pulled you down with him, toward the large rock.

When the rock wall exploded, Ted and Elsa came running towards you. You looked politely at Ted, not wanting to make the monster mad in any way, and then nodded at Elsa.

Ted continued to walk past you and Jack, towards the opening in the wall.

Elsa spun a dark laso-type thing and screamed, “Wait!” The rope grabbed onto the Bloodstone secured on Teds back. Elsa pulled until it jumped off of the monster. Ted continued to run away.

You looked over at Jack, him beaming at everyone’s success. You grinned at the short man and turned to Elsa, surprised to she the bitter woman smiling ear-to-ear as well.

Jack walked past you and over to the stone, wanting to grab it and hand it over to Elsa since their deal was complete.

Just as Jack grabbed the red, glowing stone, it pushed him back. His body impacted the floor with a loud noise and then you heard groaning.

You and Elsa shared a glance of confusion before you ran over to Jack. You squatted down next to his injured form.

“Hey, what happened? Are you okay? Jack?” You questioned the man holding his own arms, but you only got a groan out of him.

A few other hunters ran over to the sight, and stood there, wondering what had happened.

Verussa soon followed after them, some people that worked for her coming very close after.

“Well, well..” she started, “look at this.”

Jack continued to groan in discomfort.

“The Bloodstone did this to you?” Verussa laughed.

“He grabbed it.” The tall hunter, dressed in all white said. “It threw him back.”

Verussa turned her head back to Jack, and you on the ground next to him.

“My word..” She trailed off.

Jack looked up at you in panic. You nodded your head as a way to assure him that he would be okay.

“A monster. Masquerading as one of our own.” The older woman stated.

Your eyes grew in shock. Jack? A monster? It was hard believing he was a hunter.. but a monster? That couldn’t possibly be correct.

You looked down at the man laying on the floor and raised your brows, silently asking if what she was saying was true. He looked away from your eyes.

So it is true. Jack is a monster.

Verussa walker closer to the two of you and yelled, “Desecrating our sacred night!”

Someone that worked for the woman walked closer behind you two and zapped Jack with a large taser. He yelled in pain and fear. The same person zapped you and Elsa as well.

What the hell just happened?!

notes: okay so i was planning on this only being one part but im tired and lazy, so this is gonna be two parts instead. if you enjoyed, please reblog and like! ill try to start and post the next part by the end of the week! 🫂

[amplifyme]

20 Fanfic Questions

Thanks to @randomfoggytiger for tagging me again. This was fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

72. But not all of them are mine. I've been transcribing and posting some fics under a pseud, from Beauty and the Beast 4th Season hardcopy zines written by folks who've since passed on, just so that part of the fandom's history doesn't get lost.

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

1,133,574, but half of those are fics posted under my pseud. Nan Dibble was a writing fiend when it came to her Acquainted With the Night series. 💕

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files, Beauty and the Beast 1987, A Song of Ice and Fire.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Huh, interesting. They’re all ASOIAF/SanSan fics. In descending order: These Scars We Wear, The Calling, Beggar’s Banquet, Blessed Be (The Third Night) and Pas de Deux.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, as often as I can. I feel bad if I don’t. If you can take the time to leave a comment, I can take the time to thank you for it.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Pass You By and Incomplete, both in TXF ‘verse.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I have a few. The Possibility of Being, LifeSongs and Upsidaisium (BATB 1987) and These Scars We Wear and The Calling (ASOIAF). Both these ‘verses seem to lend themselves to happier endings than TXF.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope.

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind?

I used to. I got bored with it. And when it started to feel as though it were expected of me, I lost interest. I still write steamy stuff, just not explicitly anymore. I'd rather you use your imagination instead of mine. 😉

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah. Someone plagiarized one of my TXF fics back in the day and reposted it for The Nanny fandom. Who knew?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Several, mostly the ASOIAF fics.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes, once. I collaborated with Alanna Baker on a TXF fic called Doors.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Can’t narrow it down to one and you can’t make me. But the Big 3 are Mulder and Scully, Vincent and Diana, Sandor and Sansa. I do love me some big, tortured and damaged men in romantic relationships with stubborn redheaded women. What can I say? It's my kink.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The case file I started for TXF many, many moons ago. Sticks and Stones. It’s dead in the water.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue is the big one. I think my pacing is pretty good, and I have a feel for knowing what POV should be used when and where – and how to stick to that (I can't tolerate wandering POVs). I think I'm good at showing body language and tone in a way that's in-character and doesn't hit you over the head. Is it a strength to know when and how to ignore “common” writing rules? If so, I think I’m pretty good at that, too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to overthink things, which leads to too much exposition. I try to cut out as much of that as I can when doing final edits. The danger there lies in cutting too much, though. It’s a fine line I’m still learning to navigate. I generally suck at plotting anything unless the muse steps in and demands to take over. Now that I think about it, most of the very favorites of my fics are long and plot heavy, which makes no sense. I’m also not so great at beginnings, but my middles and ends are usually shiny. Is it a weakness to be The World's Slowest Writer? (On second thought, I think GRRM would beat me at that.) But yeah, takes me forever to get anything done. So that, as well.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have, but I do it sparingly. I added a few short sentences in Italian for The Possibility of Being. Thank you Google.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Beauty and the Beast. 1990-ish or so. I've been at this for a while.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Nope. Can’t do it. That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child. I love them all, for various reasons particular to each one.

[phdmama]

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone (who is celebrating)!!

So, this is a result of this post (and please believe me, however awkward it might be to read smut? imagine writing it in between dashing into the kitchen to check on the prime rib and opening the pinot noir to breathe) and this (so, err, thanks @homoaesthetics, @sitp-recs and @vukovich) - this is pretty much SOOC, not really beta’d and like. I don’t know. I don’t know what this is. But here it is.

Tags are probably things like: blow jobs, hand jobs, public sex, sort of group sex, Ron/Draco, Harry/Draco (establisehd relationship implied), Seamus/Dean, Theo/Neville, everyone/everyone, things got a little out of control, I don’t even know, university AU, ~1900 words, Explicit

Also, and I cannot stress this enough, absolutely NSFW

It happens, as so many things do, because it’s late, it’s the weekend, and they’re all a little drunk. Zabini has just rolled in from a hookup with one of the American exchange students and is complaining about the entire experience.

“And then,” he says with genuine outrage, “he told me I was too big to suck? What the hell? Like, I wasn’t even asking him to deepthroat,” and here he smirks, “because that definitely would have been too much, but like, just the head? That should have been fine!”

“How big are you?” Seamus asks from where he’s sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace. He rolls to sitting and grins at Zabini. “Come on, you must be pretty big.”

Zabini shrugs with false modesty. “I mean, I’m not the biggest guy out there, but I…” His voice trails off as every single Gryffindor boy (except Ron) snorts into his drink. His eyes narrow. “What,” he says flatly.

“What what?” Dean says with an innocent smile as Ron starts to flush.

“That was actually creepy, the way you all did that in unison,” Zabini says. “You all know something. What is it?”

There’s another long pause as the Gryffindor boys, as one, stare at the floor.

“You know I’m going to get it out of you lot eventually,” Zabini says conversationally and Harry has to smile because it’s true, Zabini can be very persuasive when he wants to be. “So just tell me.”

There’s another awkward pause and then Ron takes a large swallow from his glass. “It’s me,” he says morosely. He drinks again.

Zabini stares at him in confusion. “It’s you, what?”

“My cock,” Ron clarifies with a sigh. “They’re all acting this way because they’ve seen it.”

“And? What of it?”

“It’s huge,” Seamus bursts out. “Like, the biggest prick you’ve ever seen!”

“No, for real,” Neville says excitedly, “It’s like, I don’t know. Majestic.”

“Huh,” Zabini says, eyeing Ron thoughtfully, then shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it.”

Ron shrugs. “Don’t know what to tell you, mate.”

 “So you’re a shower, not a grower.” Zabini shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean you’re huge. Mate.”

Ron is starting to look annoyed. “Why would I lie about this? Why would all of them,” he waves a hand at Harry and the rest, “why would they lie about it?”

“No idea,” Zabini says lightly, “I’m just saying.” Here he gives a wicked grin and Harry is reminded once again of just how fucking charismatic Blaise Zabini actually is. “Seeing is believing.”

Ron stares at him. “Are you mental? I’m not getting my cock out!”

“Why not?” Zabini asks in a tone that indicates he believes this to be a completely reasonable thing to say. “I mean, we’re all friends now. With everything we’ve all been through, what’s a little, you know…” He searches for the words. “Show and tell?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone,” Ron says grumpily as he finishes his drink. “If I’m getting mine out, so are you.”

“Of course,” Zabini says with a careless wave of his hand. “Go ahead.”

Ron sighs again, sounding extremely put upon, and then kicks off his trainers, and reaches towards the button of his jeans.

“Shirt too,” Zabini says, eyes fixed on Ron’s crotch. 

Ron shrugs in a whatever, it’s your funeral kind of way, and pulls his t-shirt off, tossing it to one side.

Now, Harry isn’t, you know, into Ron in that way, but he has to admit, Ron is fucking gorgeous and Harry is not blind. Ron’s grown into his frame, still lanky but leanly muscled now, with corded biceps and just the right smattering of golden red hair across his chest, and a darker treasure trail. Even though Harry’s seen this show, he, just like every other guy in the room, is watching avidly as Ron carefully unzips his jeans and pulls them down so they’re pooling around his knees.

“Oh my…” Zabini breathes, but whatever else he’s going to say is cut off as the door flies open and Malfoy slams into the room.

Malfoy doesn’t notice them all at first, attention firmly glued to the paper in his hand, but when he lifts his gaze, he startles at the sight of them in front of him.

“What the fuck?” he says and then freezes as he catches sight of Ron. “What,” Malfoy says again, more slowly this time, “the fuck?”

His swallow is visible as the paper flutters from his grasp, drifting to the floor, forgotten, as Malfoy stares, wide-eyed, at the tableau in front of him.

“What is going on?”

Nott pipes up. “Blaise said his hookup said he was too big to suck and the Gryffindors got weird and then they said that Weasley had a huge cock and Blaise didn’t believe him and so…” his voice trails off as Malfoy takes a slow step, and then another and another, until he’s standing directly in front of Ron, who is flushed all the way down his chest, but not, Harry thinks, from embarrassment, if the way his cock is starting to thicken up is any indication.  

And then Malfoy drops to his knees.

“Holy merciful Merlin,” Malfoy breathes, his tone reverent and worshipful. “Weasley…” 

Malfoy can’t seem to look away from Ron, his face so open and awed, and Harry, well. Harry can’t look away from Malfoy.

Suddenly Malfoy’s gaze snaps up to Ron’s face. “Where the hell have you been keeping that?” He sounds almost outraged. “I’ve seen the trousers you wear, and I never saw that.”

“Oh,” Ron says, shifting awkwardly, “well, err, there are.” He doesn't seem to know where to put his hands but his cock doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo that this is all very weird. “There are, you know,” and Ron swallows as he stares down at Malfoy on his knees in front of him, “tailoring charms.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” Malfoy says slowly, “that you’ve been storing your prick in wizard space?”

Ron nods and closes his eyes as Malfoy reaches out one trembling hand to drag his thumb down the length of Ron’s cock, and Harry realizes his own cock is rock hard between his legs. A quick glance around reveals that most of them are in the same difficult situation.

“How big do you get,” Malfoy whispers, “when you’re hard? Even bigger?”

Ron nods and moans as Malfoy wraps his hand around Ron and starts to stroke. 

In the back of his mind, Harry thinks that maybe this should feel weird, Malfoy on his knees, stroking Ron off while the rest of them stare, but he’s too turned on to care. When Harry glances over at Blaise, he’s braced himself against the mantle, his own jeans shoved down just far enough to get his hand in his pants, his eyes half closed as he watches what Malfoy’s doing.

“Can I?” Malfoy asks, and Ron just flat-out moans. “Weasley, can I?”

“Yes,” Ron hisses. “Whatever you want. Fuck, Malfoy.”

Harry is transfixed. He can’t seem to look away as Ron’s eyes slam shut as Malfoy leans in, breathing hard, and then he guides the head of Ron’s prick, fully erect now, long and thick and mouthwateringly gorgeous, into his own mouth.

“Oh fuck,” someone mutters, and Harry’s throat goes dry as Malfoy’s cheeks hollow as he sucks, and from the way Ron is shaking, Harry’s pretty sure Malfoy’s doing that thing with his tongue that feels so fucking good. 

Harry presses one hand to his own prick which throbs in response and Harry realizes it’s not going to take much to get him there. Malfoy grabs one of Ron’s hands and guides it to the back of his head and then pulls off for a moment and says breathlessly, “You can pull a bit. I like it.” 

“He does,” Harry groans without thinking. “Ron, he really likes it.”

“Don’t think we’re not revisiting that,” Ron gasps, his hips starting to shift as Malfoy sucks, the sounds loud in the room. 

Harry realizes as he glances around, that he’s not just hearing Ron and Malfoy. Dean is in one of the wingback chairs with his head thrown back and Seamus is on his knees in front of him, head bobbing as he sucks him down. Neville has Theo bent over the back of the couch and is thrusting wildly against his body. Harry is pretty sure they’re not actually fucking, but not… entirely sure. Blaise appears to have just come all over his own hand, release dripping onto the hearth, but it’s the look on Ron’s face that sends Harry over the edge. Ron’s head is thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief and mouth open in a silent cry as Malfoy pulls off just in time to aim Ron’s cock at his own face, and Ron begins to come.

Harry cries out, doubling over as he comes as well, in deep, gut-wrenching pulses, soaking his boxes, until finally, he slumps down, cheek pressed to the rug, gasping and trying to catch his breath. It’s not until he rolls onto his back that he realizes, Malfoy’s the only one of them who hasn’t gotten to come yet.

“Malfoy,” Harry groans, and tilts his head back. “Come on, let me, just…” and he opens up as Malfoy scrambles over, still on his knees, before yanking down his joggers and pants to thrust his hard cock into Harry’s waiting mouth.

The familiar smell and taste, the weight of him on Harry’s tongue is as amazing as it always is, but the angle, Malfoy on his knees behind Harry, is no good. Harry taps Malfoy on the thigh, their agreed-upon signal to pull off.

“Flip around,” Harry urges and opens up again as Malfoy shifts so he’s straddling Harry’s chest, then Malfoy grabs his prick and just shoves inside, practice having taught him exactly how much Harry can take.

Now. It’s good, it’s so fucking good. Malfoy grunts as he thrusts, bracing himself on one arm as he fucks Harry’s mouth, his own breath hitching as he gets close, a litany of praise spilling from his lips.

“Fuck, Potter, your fucking mouth, holy fuck,” and as he dissolves into babbling, Harry braces himself. That’s Malfoy’s tell that he’s close. “Fuck, I’m so… Potter, I’m so close.”

Harry, still feeling pretty great from his own orgasm, reaches up and gives Malfoy’s balls a gentle tug before sliding back, pressing his fingers firm and deep as Malfoy yells, actually yells as he throws his head back and comes down Harry’s throat.

“Holy shit,” Harry hears someone say, he can’t quite recognize who and then there’s silence as they all try to catch their breaths.

Finally, Malfoy rolls off of Harry and collapses onto the floor next to him, so close that Harry can feel the heat of his body as Malfoy threads their fingers together. Harry turns his head to meet Malfoy’s gaze, and feels his own lips curve in response to Malfoy’s smile.

“Hey,” he murmurs and Malfoy grins. “Did you get your report done?”

Malfoy nods. “Sure did,” he says and gives Harry an impish smile. “How has your  night been?”

[thedastrash]

WIP Wednesday

My snippet this week is from a cute Haven scene in a long piece that's going back to the backburner for a while:

---

The Aravel was high in the sky, its northmost star shining bright on the moonless night. It seemed like even the stars were celebrating, coming out to join the evening. The last time she had seen it so high was on Sundermount. Another mountain, in what felt like another lifetime. Merrill stood with her hands on her hips for a moment and let the cold air cut through the sticky heat that clung to her from the tavern.

“It’s that kind of evening, huh Daisy?” Varric’s unmistakable timbre came from off to her left. He had a stein in his hand and leaned against one of the flimsy fences covered in frost.

“What kind of evening is that?” she asked, turning his way. It sounded like the start to a story and she so loved stories.

“The kind where everyone lets out a deep breath they didn’t know they were holding,” Varric says and sighs for emphasis.

“That sounds like something from a story,” Merrill says with a prodding tone.

“Ah, just an overused phrase. You probably read it somewhere,” Varric chuckles.

“In one of your books, perhaps?”

“You wound me,” Varric says with mock pain, clutching his exposed breast.

“Come on!” Merrill laughed and took his drink from his hands.

She downed a big sip and passed it back to him. Varric chuckled with surprise. “Winning suits you, Daisy. You should win more often.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Merrill nodded sagely.

No pressure tags: @author-a-holmes | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @knuttydraws | @raflesia65 | @retrowondergirl | @morganlefaye79 | @charlatron | @kittynomsdeplume | @kemvee | @a-shakespearean-in-paris | @jentrevellan | @isk4649 | @charmcity-jess | @cleverblackcat @dismalzelenka @sulky-valkyrie @dalish-rogue @pierogipie @anderstrevelyan @favorofthewater @anatidae-dragonage @midnightprelude @highwayphantoms @sunnygalaxyfox @transandersrights @jellydishes @syrupwit @captaincadash @barbex @potatowitch @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @glowing-blue-feathermage and anyone else who would like to share <3 Tag me so I can see what you're up to!!

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Screaming again don't mind me, just I usually realise the tags are going to be trashfires but I went to bed before the inciting incident last night and oh boy are my blocked tags insufficient huh.

This should be taken in the context of I've had a long week, I'm literally ill, and I just want thoughts out my head so I can enjoy the streams tonight please thank you love you all <3

I'm sat here like on the one hand Sunny being upset about last night is COMPLETELY legit. Like I think I know where Philza was coming from - Tubbo and Slime both respawn when killed, which 'real' eggs don't - but many of the words he said while his usual teasing were out of line, especially when Tubbo wasn't there to defend himself. And like a kid isn't going to see that so fine its cool if I thought it was ever going to get resolved yeah no perfect sense here. And even with that logic in mind it's a fucking dick thing to say. There were only bad answers. It was a question designed to have only bad answers. The least bad answer was probably honestly Trump as not only is he dead all his parents are too, but that suuuucks.

On the other hand, I know where this started and what it started with is with ccPhilza's tone of voice and phrasing (because those are the same as qPhilza's in many of the instances), and I do not think it was ever appropriate to have this come up as a thing in the first place. I don't care about the IC-ness or whatever right now, I mean pure simple if this should ever have been a plot point in the first place. And the longer it goes on without anyone fucking telling Phil so he can fix it the more certain I am it was a fucking awful move that never should have started - and if Sunny didn't already think Phil hated her, maybe this would be more interesting! The whole thing with the Tubbo and Gegg.

Anyway point. QSMP is supposed to be about cultural exchange and communication over differences and language and stuff, but what's being done here is reinforcing genuinely harmful with real life consequences stereotypes about English Northerners - the sorts of which have things like people being put on blacklists by their own home insurance providers due to being 'difficult customers', and having the cops called on them for 'being aggressive' when they said fuck a bit and laughed too loud, and being failed in class for talking wrong, and I just... The one thing from last night is completely legit. That's entirely and perfectly legit and all that, but the fact is it's not in isolation and whether intentionally or not every time Sunny and Philza are in a room together no matter what I blacklist if I look in the tags for my primary PoV it becomes a fucktonne of classist microagressions.

And like ccPhilza may well be fine with it! And that's cool and all! (Though I'm honestly not convinced he's entirely aware ooc Sunny's afraid of him) But much like any of these things, it's not /only/ the cc who stands to be hurt by it.

Which is to say I think Sunny's admin is a good roleplayer but not so good at being an NPC and is - probably accidentally, and only in a minor way god knows the rest of the media joins in - contributing to genuine and actual harm with their choices here. Calling Philza aggressive or scary based on his accent, phrasing, and tone of voice (and like this is outside of last night - this is how it /started/ not where it is now) is in a similar if smaller vein to saying the French players are stuck up, entitled, prissy, flirtatious, etc for having French accents. Or the Mexicans are stupid for their accents. And when he's the only northerner and he genuinely isn't being aggressive when he's being accused of it it's... uncomfy. ESPECIALLY as it's not from another player, it's from a fucking admin('s character) who should be being held to a higher standard on shit like this as the admin's are part of the organisation team.

It'd be less bad if there were more regularly playing northerners, or if tubbo wasn't a southerner, or if she was afraid and people were yelling about her being afraid of other characters too, but it's /so/ noticably Philza.

And it's not intentional, there's very little chance it's intentional, but it's still why I have to put on a fake accent to call the DWP else I get blacklisted and treated significantly worse. One time I rang up, usual accent, after 40 minutes of being bounced around was told no. Rang back, spoke to someone else, put on my other accent, was treated significantly nicer and got told yes. And this shit happens regularly in my life. Northern is more natural to me but I can also do southern. And my sort of northern is considered more acceptable than ccPhil's!

I don't really want to talk about it, I just want to scream.

[taomyou]

The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 17

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 7.0k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking (A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

nothing

You're in the middle of getting ready for dinner when you hear a knock at your door. You go to check the time on your phone: 4:38 PM.

Huh, Hange isn't due to come get you until 5, but them being over early is fine with you. You put your phone back down on the bathroom counter, and you go to open your door, makeup done and dressed in pajamas.

Imagine your surprise when, instead of your eccentric best friend, you see your parents.

"What're you doing here?"

Your mom beams at you and raises the bag in her hand. "We brought something for you!" Your dad awkwardly raises his hand in a wave, and you blink before mindlessly moving out of the way to let them in.

Your mom sets down the bag at the dining table before her and your dad both get situated at your couch, and you excuse yourself quickly to go back to the bathroom where you call Hange.

After a couple of rings, they pick up the phone. "Hi! You ready yet?"

"Yeah, about that, I might need to skip on dinner today."

"What? Why? You were the one to suggest we take advantage of the Mother's Day discount for the restaurant!"

You groan. "I know, but my parents are here."

"'Here,' as in, at your place?"

You nod, biting at your cheek. "Yeah."

"Don't they still live in your hometown? That's, like, two hours from here."

"That's what I'm saying!" You exclaim. You put your phone on speaker and set it back on the counter as you go to start taking off your makeup, "I have no idea when they're leaving, but it’s probably not for a while, so you guys can head to dinner without me."

"Sure, but are you good? I thought you liked your parents."

You reach for the makeup-remover after wetting your face. "I do, but I still feel bad for bailing on plans with you guys,” you muse. “And you know how they are, they’re so nosy.”

They laugh. “Yeah, but I relate to them like that! Gossiping with your mom is so fun!”

“I never should’ve introduced you to them,” you groan.

“It was inevitable, we’re best friends and neighbors! But don’t worry about missing dinner! It’s Mother’s Day anyway, you should spend time with them.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I was thinking about making the drive over to them, but my car’s still in the shop.”

“Oh yeah! What was even wrong with it?”

“No idea, I think it’s something with the engine?”

“I’d ask if the mechanic overcharged you, but you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

You hum, gently scrubbing at your face. “Just because I let you use my money willy-nilly doesn’t mean I let everyone take advantage of me.”

They laugh over the line. “Perks of being friends with a lawyer! Anyway, did he give you a date for you to pick it up yet?”

“I don’t really need my car for work or anything, so I just told him that I’m fine with whatever. He said Saturday at the latest, so I’ll probably take the bus to get it then.” You hear a knock at the bathroom door, so you splash water onto your face with one hand and grab a small towel with the other. “I gotta go, but have fun tonight!”

“You too! I’ll text you about it when I’m home!”

“Mhm!” You hear the ending dial tone, and you bring your towel up to your face to pat it dry as you step out into the main living room. “Sorry, did one of you need the bathroom?”

“Oh, no, we were just wondering what you were doing,” your mom tells you. You nod awkwardly, and you go to sit next to them on the couch.

“The place is so clean now! I still remember when we’d have to come over during your schooling to help clean,” she says, looking around the space. “It feels like just yesterday we were visiting you here for the first time.”

You roll your eyes. “You say that every time you’ve been here.”

Your father gets up to go get the back your mother had on her earlier, and he brings it back to you.

You take it from him and set it on your lap before peeking inside. “What’s this?”

“Your brother got us a tea set, but we have the exact same one at home already.”

Your brother called you earlier in the week asking what he should get your mom for Mother’s Day, but you definitely did not include a tea set in your list of gift ideas. To be fair, he’s away at university, so he probably didn’t know he got something they already had. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

Your mother waves you off. “It’s just me and your father at home nowadays, we don’t need anymore tableware.”

You get up and go to the sink to wash it, and you get a kettle going so you can make some tea for them. They probably aren’t leaving anytime soon, so you might as well make them feel comfortable while they’re here.

Luckily, you got plenty of groceries yesterday, and you’re able to figure out something that could adequately feed the three of you. You spend the next couple of hours cooking with your mother in your small kitchen space, and your father listens from the dining table. Your mother eventually takes over the cooking and asks if you could make dessert, and you nod before going to get started on that.

You don’t mind, really. You don’t get much chance to go and visit anymore, with work being as strenuous as it is, but you do love your parents, no matter how nosy they may be.

As you’re mixing together the batter for the spice loaf you’ll be making for dessert, your mom asks about anything and everything.

“Are you seeing anyone nowadays, honey?” She prods.

You sigh. Of all the things she likes to ask you about, you dread this the most. She’s definitely not rude about it, but you know she’s waiting for you to introduce someone to them.

“No, mom, I would’ve told you if I was.”

She asks you where the bowls are, and you direct her to them so she can start setting up the table. You finish up with getting the batter into a prepared tin, and you slide that into the oven before joining your parents at the table. You give your thanks, and the three of you start eating.

After a bit more talking about work and how things are going in your hometown, the oven beeps, and you go to take that out to cool before returning to the table. Apparently, in the maybe two minutes that you were gone to take care of that, your mother goes back to the topic of you dating.

“I didn’t know if you would tell me you were seeing someone, young people these days don’t tell their parents anything,” she laments. “Do you need me to set you up with anyone? Your father’s coworker’s son is a handsome fellow.”

You cringe, wincing as you go to take another bite of your food. “I do not need any more people meddling with my love life.”

“More? Is someone else scheming to get you a partner?” Your father asks.

“Oh, oh! Is it Hange?”

And of course, you hear a knock at your door right then-and-there. It probably is them, but before you can get up from the table to open the door for them, your mother goes to do it for you.

“Oh my gosh, hello!”

Hange wraps up your mother in a big hug, and your mom returns the gesture. You and your dad exchange looks across the table, but neither of you say anything. The two let go of each other fairly quickly, and your soul just about leaves your body when you see Erwin and Levi coming in too.

Well, this is just fucking great.

Erwin introduces himself to your mother with a firm handshake and a smile, and your mom looks over at you all-the-while with a knowing smile on her face. You have to bury your face in your hands, and your dad just laughs at your misery. Hange’s joined you at the table by now, so they chime in too with their own giggles.

You peek out between your fingers to see that Levi’s now the one in front of your mom, and you’re terrified to see what will happen. Your mother likes warm personalities like Erwin’s and Hange’s, and you have no idea how she’ll receive Levi’s comparatively colder one.

You can’t hear what he says over Hange’s laughter next to you and Erwin’s conversation with your father, but you can only assume it goes well enough when your mom and Levi come back to the table, her with a new bag.

She sets the bag on the table, and she takes out what looks like a case of desserts. “Ooh, this looks delicious!”

“Levi picked it out at the restaurant!” Hange praises, patting their friend on the back loudly.

He just nods, and your parents laugh at his awkwardness. “Well, thank you, Levi,” your mom says.

You continue eating dinner quietly, though it seems that your parents have forgotten about it entirely when they leave the table to go to the couch. Erwin talks with your father and Hange with your mother, so that leaves you and Levi to hang out with each other. You watch the four as they all chat on the couch, slowly taking bites of your food.

“I’m not going to be on the bus on Friday,” Levi tells you.

You turn to look at him. “Any particular reason why?”

He pauses before answering. “There’s some business I have to take care of.”

You hum before leaning over slightly to bump your shoulder against his. “Have fun, then.”

“Yeah.”

In the last month, things haven’t changed between the two of you, and you like that.

You like that you’re able to spend time with him without having to overcomplicate things by throwing in any romantic undertones. You like that your heart doesn’t go into practical cardiac arrest whenever he accidentally touches you, that his hands feel warm against yourself when you help him make his stars.

You eventually finish with your meal, and you get that cleaned up while everyone else talks. There’s a lot of pointing and whispering from the four figures on the couch, but you can’t be bothered to pay any mind to that right now.

Levi helps you with drying the dishes, which is as much as you’ll ever let him do, and the two of you join the others at the couch when you’re done.

Before you can even join in on their conversations, Hange gets up and dusts off the front of their pants. “Well, it was nice being here, but the new episode of The Bachelor airs in fifteen minutes, and I can’t miss it!”

“Since when did you care about trashy TV?” Levi asks.

“Since always!” They scoff. “It's so entertaining! Like watching a social experiment!”

“You know those shows are all scripted, right?”

They tut at you, waving their finger at you. “That’s another level of complexity! The people who write these shows are actual geniuses, and we must appreciate their efforts.”

And just like that, Hange’s out of your apartment. Erwin’s just as quick with his exit, citing a burning desire to catch the 9 PM radio in his car (who the fuck listens to the radio?), and they both leave behind Levi.

He’s hesitant to leave, probably intimidated by your parents, but when your dad approaches him, you know that he’s definitely intimidated by them.

“What do you do for work?”

You look to your mom to silently ask for her to get your dad away from Levi, but she only smiles at the interaction, so you hope Levi can survive your father for what is hopefully only a thirty-second interrogation.

Man, Erwin was probably just going through the same thing just now.

“I’m a professor at Sina University in the architectural studies department, and I’m a freelance architect.”

You see your dad nod in approval, though it’s especially strange that he’s so serious about it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Do you own or rent?”

“I own.”

“How much student debt do you have? I’ve heard that architects have a lot of school to get through.”

“None, sir. I was on scholarship and grants.”

“Do you have insurance?”

“Yes.”

“Do you drink or smoke?”

“I drink socially during work events, and I do not smoke.”

“What is your highest degree of education?”

“I have a Master’s in architecture.”

“Do you have any children from previous relationships?”

“No.”

That time, you want to scream for the disaster to stop, but your dad just keeps going.

“How long have you known my daughter?”

“Since September.”

You suppose you wouldn’t know either if you were asked that question, but September works.

Still, you can only watch in horror as the interaction drags on, but you’re grateful that Levi apparently hasn’t backed down. You have to peek through your fingers to even look in their direction, unable to keep your eyes on the car crash happening in front of you.

What the fuck is wrong with your dad? Levi’s just your friend, why does he care about all of this? You don’t even care about it! And why hasn’t your mom intervened at all?

“What car do you have?”

“I don’t care about my car, it’s just a car.”

Fucking finally, your dad smiles and moves to pat Levi on the back with a laugh. “Good for you, son!”

Levi can only awkwardly nod in acknowledgement, which gets yet another laugh out of your parents.

Having enough of their… whatever the fuck they’re doing, you slip in between your dad and Levi and put your arms over both their shoulders, a big, sarcastic grin on your face.

“Levi actually has a work conference to go to, he was just staying to be polite.”

Your mom nods in understanding, believing your lie. “That’s okay, we were just about to head out too.”

“It’s already 9, are you sure you can make the drive back home right now?” You ask.

“Your mother and I are going to stay at a resort, actually. It’s not too far from here.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you tell them. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

Your mom waves you off. “No, no, don’t worry about us. You can walk Levi out to his, though!”

You and Levi look at each other but don’t say anything.

“Uh, sure?”

Your mother makes sure to thank Levi again for the dessert case, completely forgetting about the spice loaf that she wanted you to make, and her and your father are out of the door in a matter of seconds.

“What just happened?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “There’s a spice loaf she forgot to take, if you wanted it instead.”

“What the fuck is a spice loaf?”

You shrug. “I don’t know why it’s called a loaf, it’s pretty much just a cake.”

“Sure,” he sighs, rubbing at the side of his head. “Hange made me try this fucking horrendous cheesecake at the restaurant, I’ll eat anything at this point to get rid of the taste.”

You laugh, and you guide him back over to your kitchen. The loaf is cool enough now, so you quickly get on some disposable gloves before cutting it up into more manageable slices.

Levi somehow finds the cellophane bags on his own, and he helps you wrap it up before you take off your gloves and wash your hands. After that, you grab a bag for him to put the slices into, and you and him are back at your doorway, about ready to say your “get home safe”s.

But first, you have to apologize for your parents.

“Sorry about my parents,” you cringe. “And for skipping on dinner.”

“Your parents were a lot.”

You sigh. “I know, hopefully they don’t come on as strong to you if you have to see them again.”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. They seem like nice people.”

“My dad asked for practically every detail of your life!”

“And? That doesn’t bother me,” he pauses. “Do they like me?”

“Uh,” you think for a second. “Probably? My mom liked the desserts you bought, and my dad likes asking the car question because my brother told him that people who care about cars are sociopaths.”

“Your brother is right, who the fuck needs a sports car that wakes up the entire neighborhood?”

“Nobody,” you shrug. “But I wouldn’t worry about whether they like you or not. If they like Hange, then there’s no limit to who they can tolerate.”

“If you say so.” He looks out towards your hallway and goes to raise the bag you gave him. “Thank you for the loaf.”

You nod. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“See you on Friday?”

“I thought you had business?”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “Right.”

“I’ll technically see you on Friday, just not this coming one.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That’s what I meant when I asked.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. Get home safe, Levi.”

“You too. Thank you again.”

“Mhm.” You wave to him as he leaves, and you sigh.

Fuck, you have to wait two weeks to see him again?

Well, out of sight, out of mind. Even with your wish for more ways to avoid thinking about your feelings, you wish it didn’t also entail not being able to spend time together.

✰

The mechanic hands your key back to you, a bright smile on his face. “There you are, miss! The rest of your paperwork is at the front desk, the person working there can help you with that.”

You thank him before heading inside the building, putting your car key back on your keyring while you walk over. The mention of paperwork is hardly daunting, but you still know you’ll have to review everything thoroughly before you’re content signing.

You greet the woman at the front desk with a smile and give her your name, and she slides you a clipboard with a single sheet of paperwork on it. You take it with you to the seating area so you can look at it, but in the middle of reading, you hear a familiar voice introduce himself to the woman at the front desk.

“Ackerman, Levi.”

You look up from the clipboard to see your friend, clad in neat dress clothes.

Huh, what a small world.

You go back to the paperwork, not wanting to get caught staring, and you sign your name at the bottom before getting up to silently slip it back to get processed. You wait behind Levi for him to get his things sorted out, but it takes an unusually long time. When you were getting your initial paperwork earlier, it didn’t take even a fraction of this time.

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry, sir, your car hasn’t finished being repaired yet.”

“I need my car today, could it get done by noon?”

You hear a few more clicks from her computer before she responds. “The parts for the repair have been ordered, but they won’t be here in the shop for another three business days.”

“I paid extra to have it finished today,” he says, “and you’re telling me that it won’t be ready for another three days?”

Someone as blunt as Levi usually comes off as indifferent, maybe even angry, but right now, he just sounds… desperate.

“I’m sorry, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I can get the mechanic for you, and he can explain what’s going on, if you’d like?”

He shakes his head, almost defeatedly. “No, that’s alright. Thank you anyway.”

When he turns to leave, he nearly misses you, but when you tap his shoulder, the two of you make eye contact. You wave at him before quickly stepping forward to hand the woman your paperwork, and she quickly types something into her computer before telling you that you’re ready to go. She leaves to go do… something, and it’s just you and Levi left in the relatively small space.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but do you need a ride somewhere?”

He sighs, putting his hands into pockets. “I was supposed to go somewhere, and my car decided to stop working yesterday.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “If you’re offering, don’t. It’s a three-hour drive.”

Three hours isn’t so bad. You know Levi to be decently frugal with his time, and you’re sure he wouldn’t want to make the drive if it didn’t mean something to him.

Besides, he sounds pretty distressed. If there’s anything you could do to help, you’re going to do it.

“That’s not that long, I can take you.”

“What? No, you have better things to do with your time,” he scolds. “It’s not that big of a deal, I can just go another time.”

“It sounds pretty important if you paid extra to get it repaired faster,” you challenge. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” he goes to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Well,” you pause to come up with an excuse, and when you see the complimentary drinks station at the corner of the space, you have your excuse, “I didn’t see you yesterday, so I still owe you your tea. I can just drive you to make up for it.”

He groans. “In what world is a six-hour round trip equivalent to a box of fucking tea?”

“In this one,” you retort. “But seriously, I don’t mind.”

“Are you going to give up if I say no again?”

You sigh. “I don’t want to force you, so yeah.”

Before he can speak again, he gets a phone call. He picks it up, and you look away to afford him his privacy.

“They said another three days.”

“It isn’t a big deal.”

“What the fuck? No, go to work. Do not fucking use me as an excuse to take the day off.”

You feel his gaze shift towards you, and you hear him sigh. “Okay, okay, get off my fucking back. I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, bye.”

The dial tone of the call ending goes off, and you turn to face him again. He slides his phone back into his pocket, and he brings up his fist to cover his mouth while he clears his throat. “Are you sure? It’s a long drive.”

You nod and give a playful thumbs-up. “Yes!”

Instead of rolling his eyes like you expect him too, he gives you a thumbs-up in return. “Thank you,” he looks out and past you at the parking lot for the place. “I need to get some things from Furlan’s car first.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem. Want some help?”

“You’re going to do it anyway, so what’s the point of asking?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called being polite.”

“Never heard of it before.”

“Oh, I can tell.”

You follow him as he leads you outside, and you see Furlan leaning on the side of his car. He looks decently surprised to see you, but he still smiles and waves at you. Levi goes to the other side of the car to the backseat to start getting his things.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been at the house, we miss you!”

You smile in apology. “Sorry, just haven’t really had any time lately.”

“That’s okay, I’m pretty busy too,” he pauses to lean in closer to you to whisper. “Oh, and thank you for those brownies a while ago! Me and Isabel make them all the time now!”

You chuckle. “And does Levi know this?”

Furlan smugly shakes his head after he pulls away from your ear. “Nope, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys like them that much.”

Levi comes back to where you and Furlan are, and in his arms is a rather… unexpected assortment of items. There’s a large box, but you can see a watering can and a bouquet of flowers that peek out from it. You can’t quite tell what they’re for, but you aren’t sure if it’s the right time to ask.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he answers. You go to take the watering can and flowers to help lighten the load for Levi, and he thanks you before nodding at Furlan and then letting you lead the way to your car.

When you’re a fair bit away from Furlan, you figure it’s alright to ask.

“What’s all this for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He hums, opting to continue looking forward instead of at you. “Today’s my mom’s birthday.” He halts in his gait, and he looks almost horrified as he finally turns to face you. “Fuck, I should’ve told you earlier. Seriously, it’s not too late, you don’t have to drive me to a fucking cemetery.”

You’re frozen in place at the statement, unsure of what to say.

So you’ll just say something and clarify afterwards if it comes out wrong.

“Am I supposed to be offended that you didn’t tell me…?”

He blinks, trying to process what you’re saying. “I don’t know.”

You wave your hand in front of his face to snap him back to you, and he blinks again.

“Levi, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

You get to your car, and you put down the watering can on the top of your car to free your hand and get your keys out of your pocket. You unlock it, and you open the door for Levi to put everything in the backseat.

“I think I should be asking you that. Are you sure you’re okay with me taking you?”

“I asked first,” he says. Still, he goes around the car to sit in your passenger seat, and you join him in the driver's.

“I already told you that it’s alright with me,” you tell him.

He sighs before reaching over to get his seatbelt done, and you watch as he puts his elbow on the space below the window. “Thank you, then.”

✰

The drive is silent, for the most part.

When he gets in, he compliments the cleanliness of your car’s interior, and you thank him for the sentiment. He gives you directions as you drive, you put on music, but other than that, there’s nothing said between the two of you.

The drive is long, that much is certain, but it’s relaxing, at least for you. Levi does offer to switch every hour or so, but you insist that you’re enjoying the change of pace because he’s normally the one chauffeuring you around.

When you reach Underground City Cemetery, Levi speaks up again to give you directions for where to park. There’s plenty of flowers and gifts that decorate the other graves, probably from the previous Mother’s Day weekend, and they fill up the field with life in colors.

There’s a small lane that is just barely wide enough for you to park, but luckily the place is empty enough to not have it be an issue for anyone else.

“Well, we’re here.”

“I can see that,” he says. As he goes to undo his seatbelt, he looks back to see you staring at him. “What?”

You take your hands off the steering wheel and nervously put them in your lap. “I can come back later, if you want the privacy. I don’t want to intrude on anything.”

The sound of his seatbelt clicking free is loud, and he avoids eye contact with you as he reaches for the door handle and goes to get his things from your backseat. You take that as your sign that he does want you to go somewhere else, but before you can put your car back into drive, Levi walks around the car and knocks on your window with his knuckles.

You roll down your window, and you watch as he looks back and forth between you and the backseat.

“You can come with me.”

You blink slowly. “What? Are you sure?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he looks into your backseat again. “I need help carrying everything anyway.”

You take your keys out of the ignition, and you silently help grab what he can’t carry. He starts heading towards a path, so you follow him, careful not to step on anything other than bare grass or sidewalk. You notice along the beginning of the walkway that there’s various water faucets, so you make sure not to trip on those either.

The walk is a fair bit away from your car, but it’s not anything inconvenient. If anything, it looks like Levi relaxes as he walks in whichever direction he’s headed towards.

When you reach the end of this particular walkway, you see that there’s a fresh bundle of flowers in the little divot in the dirt where he stops.

“Did you come for Mother’s Day?” You ask.

He shakes his head, and he sets his box down, getting a small stool from it as well to sit on. You’re unsure of what you’re meant to do, but you wait for him to give you any instructions, if any.

“I only come on her birthday, it’s too busy on Mother’s Day,” he says. “My uncle comes every week to leave flowers, he still lives in this fucking town.”

“That’s nice of him.”

He scoffs, and he starts to pull on a pair of rubber gloves. “Hardly, I have to pay him to do it.” He gets them on, and he has to uncomfortably lean over to get what he needs from the box.

You quickly go to set down the watering can and the flowers on the blank grass next to you, and you tell Levi that he can just tell you what he needs.

He asks for a long cleaning brush, and you dig through the box to get that for him. You watch as he sweeps away at the dust and dirt on the flat headstone.

The name is barely legible, the granite still ashy, but you can still read it: Kuchel Ackerman. Underneath her name is only a birth date and death date, nothing else.

Levi sighs. “That fucker. I saw him yesterday, and he swore that he cleaned the headstone.”

He asks for a small pick to clean up some of the carvings in the stone. You hand it to him and exchange it for the brush he was just using. You tap it on the side of the box to make sure that the rest of the tools inside don’t catch any of the dirt.

“Was that the business you were on yesterday?”

He nods. “He needed a ride to the airport for whatever fucking reason. My car broke down when I was on the way home.”

“That sucks.”

“It does.”

He seems to need to concentrate on cleaning up the stone alone, so you quietly slip away to fill up the watering can with one of the faucets you saw earlier. He didn’t mention needing any water, but you figure that it’d be better to have it than not at all.

The walk is decently long both ways, but you don’t mind it. You and Levi seem to be the only people in the immediate area, so you’re grateful that he has the quiet he needs to spend time cleaning up the grave, too.

When you come back, he asks for you to slowly pour out the water while he scrubs, having changed the pick for a different, smaller brush this time, and you follow the direction. He asks that you go and get more water, and you just nod before going back and make the same trip.

You have to do it another three times, but you still don’t mind it. When you come back with the last helping of water, he doesn’t ask you to pour it over the stone anymore. The flowers he brought with him now replace the other ones that were set by his uncle, and he asks that you pour the water into the small divot on the ground.

He puts his gloved hands under the falling water to protect the petals from collapsing underneath the stream, and he carefully wipes away any of the water that spilled back down onto the headstone.

“Well, that’s it for today,” he mutters, taking off his gloves. “We can head out now.”

“Do you need any more time here?” You offer, bending down to help get everything neatly in the box. “You don’t have to rush for my sake.”

He checks his watch for the time. “The cemetery closes in 30 minutes.”

You hum, continuing to get things put away but still carefully enough to not cause too much noise or damage anything.

“We can stay another 30 minutes, then.”

He looks back and forth between you, your car in the distance, and the headstone. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yeah, I can start getting some of this back to the car on my own.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and you take it that he wants to stay, so you start moving things back to your car. You have to make several trips to make sure that you don’t carry more than you know you can, but you still don’t mind.

When you come back for the last time to get the very last of the things, Levi’s getting up, dusting away loose dirt from his pants. He doesn’t let you carry anything on the way back, but you give no protest, only silently walking next to him as the both of you make your way back to the car.

When you’re both in your seats and everything in the box has been accounted for, you start to drive, again following along as Levi gives you the directions.

In the entire time you’ve been out, neither of you have eaten, so you ask him if there’s anywhere he’d want to go and grab dinner. He says he’d rather just get home, and after a bit of back-and-forth, you make him promise to eat when he gets home, and you continue driving.

He still asks to switch with you every now and again, but you just tell him to not worry about it. You have to stop to get gas with about another hour left of your commute back to his house, and he pays for it before you can even realize that the gas has finished pumping.

When you finally reach his house, you both get out of the car, and you go to help him get his things inside. He sets the box down on the doormat before going to ring the doorbell, but before he can press the button, the door swings open and you’re met with Furlan for the second time in the day, as well as Isabel for the first time in the day.

And of course, they pull you inside along with Levi and force you to have dinner with them. You’re unsure if Levi still wants you to be around after having spent practically the entire day together, but you choose to ignore the thought as you eat and enjoy banter with Isabel and Furlan.

Levi eventually slips away to take a shower, and you, Isabel, and Furlan decide to make some brownies, and this time, Levi’s allowed to know about it because they’re made to cheer him up.

The dessert is in the oven by the time he comes back, and you’re halfway out the door when you see that he’s done with his shower, towel draped over his shoulders.

He slides on a pair of slippers before walking you across the street, and neither of you say anything until you’re at your car, shoulder-to-shoulder and leaning on the vehicle.

“Thank you,” he tells you. “Seriously, you have no idea how much it means to me that you took the time to drive me today.”

You give him a gentle smile, and then you look up at the sky, unsure of where else to look. “You don’t have to say thanks, but I appreciate it.”

He groans next to you, following suit and looking up too. “Did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

You hum. “I did, but you don’t have to thank me.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Honestly? “No idea, but it doesn’t feel right to accept thanks for a gesture like this,” you pause, turning to look at him.

His eyes look shiny under the moonlight, but you’re unsure if it's just the silver in them or tears welling up.

“I’m just grateful you trusted me enough to spend time with you while you visited her.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You fucking idiot, of course I do.”

There's a silence again, and despite all the words that just miss the tip of your tongue, you feel like you could be here forever, nothing said between the two of you.

“You should get going. It’s late.”

You blink before leaning over slightly to tap your shoulder to his. “Yeah, you’re right.” You both get up from leaning on your car, and there’s another pause before you have to go. “See you on Friday?”

He nods. “Yeah, Friday.”

You sigh again, looking past him and at his house.

“Do you want anything other than tea? Just this once, let me repay you properly.”

You laugh, turning back to face him. “You already know the answer is no.”

“Are you sure?”

When he asks this time, you properly mull it over. Is there really anything you want? The tea is more than enough, but you don't even need that.

Honestly...

"Nothing."

"What?"

"I want nothing," you say again, a bit more confidently.

There isn't anything that you could want, at least that he could buy. For once, you think that you want there to not be any reasoning behind your exchanges.

"You want nothing," he repeats to you. It sounds like a question coming from him.

"Yeah, nothing."

"Is this a fucking joke to you?"

You shake your head with another smile. "No, I'm taking this very seriously," you pause, trying to read the expression on his face. "Don't worry, I'll still bring you your tea the week after."

"You think I fucking care about you paying me back?"

You sigh. "I don't know, maybe?"

"Do tell, then, why you want nothing."

You shrug. "I don't know. There's nothing you need to pay me back for, you can just give me nothing next week."

He sighs. "If you fucking insist."

You laugh, shaking your head again. "Thank you, I look forward to it."

Before you can turn to go and get inside of your car, you notice Levi looking at you, his hands awkwardly at his sides and instead of in his pockets.

And before you can ask if there's anything else he needs to talk about before you go, you feel his arms come up and pull you into a hug.

It isn't tight. No, it's loose enough, and you know that it's meant for you to have the option to leave if you want to.

Strangely, you don't.

You bring your arms up awkwardly to hug him back, unsure of where to grab until you find an opening on his body for you to hold onto, but it doesn't matter. His hold on you tightens, just barely enough to tell you that he appreciates you returning the gesture, and his head find its place comfortably on your shoulder.

His hair is still wet and it drips cold water onto your shoulders, but you don't mind it at all.

His body slotted against yours is still warm, comfortable—just like it always is. And again, you wish that it could last forever.

"Even if it means nothing, thank you."

You know that even if you say, again, that you don't think he needs to thank you or repay you or express his gratitude in any way, you just nod in agreeance to let his heart relax.

"You're welcome, Levi."

Even if he sees it differently, you know you both mean the same thing—that you both appreciate what you do for the other, and that this... repayment system is how interact with each other. That much lets your heart relax.

Eventually, the both of you let go of each other, and the rest goes by too quickly for you to remember.

He tells you to get home safe, you tell him the same, and you're on autopilot as you drive back to your house.

You take your shower, still lost in your mind, and you get into bed. When you go to pull your blankets over again, you freeze.

Instead of the feeling of comfort being the one that confuses you this time, but it's oddly similar.

It isn't that the comfort in his company confuses you. No, not at all. If that were the case, then you'd be anxious when you're around him.

No.

What confuses you is that you want his comfort. You want him to be around. You want to feel that way all the time, not just when you're around him.

And so, for the first time in literal months, you have to flip onto your stomach, scream into your pillow, shake the nerves out of your legs, and do it ten times over... only for it to do absolutely fucking nothing.

Fucking great.

So much for thinking that you could keep up with your little game of running away from your feelings.

✰

Next Chapter

[fizzycherrycola]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you’d like to know better!

Thank you @oumaheroes for tagging me! 💜💜💜

What book are you currently reading?

Recently, I finished reading Good Omens, which was a fantastic book and had me giggling out loud on public transit. I’ve just started The Rose Code, a story about the female codebreakers of WW2 who worked at Bletchley Park. I’ve literally only read the prologue so far, and obviously, it has a completely different tone from my previous book, but I usually enjoy a wide range of stories, so I’m hopeful that I’ll like this one as well.

What’s your favourite movie you saw in theatres this year?

Despite lockdowns ending, dragging my family or friends out to the theatres this year was like pulling teeth. No one seemed interested at all, so from my limited selection of theatre films, I’d probably say Bullet Train. It was a typical action-comedy with copious amounts of violence and decent laughs. Not exactly a stand-out film, but it’s the only one I can remember off the top of my head. It also doubled as a date night, so that was a plus.

What do you usually wear?

Long colourful socks, blue jeans, a long-sleeve undershirt, and whatever pullover, sweater, poncho, or hoodie I can find in my closet. I prefer warm things.

How tall are you?

Haha, not answering this. I’d rather not give out the information contained on my driver’s license.

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

Also not sharing this either, sorry.

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

To those who know me in person, I go by my real name. However, when I’m online I prefer “Fizzy”. It grants me a layer of security and anonymity that I value very much.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

I did. I work professionally as an artist and I’m very grateful for those in my life who supported me and allowed me to pursue my dream as my career. Naturally, as a child I had much grander vision of what that career might look like, but I’m still happy with the reality I’ve been handed.

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?

I am, yes. ❤

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

Apparently, I posses leadership qualities, am decent at self-advocating, good at setting boundaries, and decisive (when it really matters). It’s easier to have my good qualities pointed out to me than to accurately spot them in myself, so these are things I’ve heard from my lovely colleagues and family.

Sadly, I’ve always been terrible at sports in general, and even with the one physical activity I enjoy (rock climbing), I’m woefully inadequate, haha. I’m also very forgetful and scatterbrained, frequently misplacing my belongings and spacing out mid-conversation.

Dogs or cats?

Dogs!

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this year?

You know, after I’ve written something, it completely vanishes from my mind! But I went back through Wingman to find that I quite like the dialogue exchange between Canada and America when they’re discussing Europe, and America’s reluctance to pay attention to the crises happening overseas.

“Oh,” Canada says as he gathers the scattered newspaper sheets. “Well, it’s... You see, it’s about the crisis in Agadir and I’m worried that-”

“The what in where?”

Canada blinks. “In Agadir. Haven’t you heard of it?”

“...Is Agadir one of Monaco’s cities?”

“What? No! It’s one of Morocco's.”

“Oh, okay” America chuckles. “Guess I got them mixed up.”

“And Monaco is a city-state, she doesn’t have any other cities.”

“Huh.” America glances up at the rafters, bottom lip firmly under his teeth. “That makes sense.”

Canada sighs, a long-suffering sound. “You should really pay more attention to what’s going on in Europe....”

“I do! Sort of. If it’s important.” Canada doesn’t glare, but he does wait patiently while staring pointedly at his brother. America shrugs. “All right, maybe I do get distracted sometimes, but can you blame me? Business is booming. I’ve got an economy to run and the inventions people are coming up with this century are way more fascinating than whatever’s happening in... where was it?”

“Agadir.”

“Right! You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do, but... Things aren’t exactly peaceful these days. I’m not sure that’s the right sort of attitude we should have, at the moment.”

‘We’, as in nations, of course. However, also as in brothers. As in two with everlasting ties across the Atlantic. But that part, Canada doesn’t say.

Wiping his messy hands with a towel, America turns away. “Listen... We’re flanked by oceans on both our east and west coasts. To your north, you have solid ice and to my south I’ve got Mexico, the entire Caribbean, and just... Europe is a world away.” Before Canada can internalise his sentiment, America changes tune. “Anyway, that’s not why we’re here in the first place. We’re here for flying machines and a good time, remember? Not politics.”

Fidgeting, a familiar tension in his shoulders, Canada nods. “I guess so. Yeah... Yeah, you’re right.”

What’s something you would like to create content for?

Doubt that it’ll ever happen, but I’d love to write a script for a short film. Maybe one day, who knows?

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

Hetalia, of course. I’m amazed that my obsession has lasted so long, haha.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

All those Marvel and Star Wars Tv shows, with Andor being the only exception. They were very flashy, and some of them started out with a lot of promise, but ultimately each one devolved into the same repeated formulas. I think, after resisting for so long, I’m finally developing “Marvel fatigue”.

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

Not exactly a talent, but I’m an amateur space nerd and I can usually point out Mars, Saturn, Venus, and/or Jupiter in the night sky. My understanding of space, black holes, galaxies, and stars is probably more advanced than the average person, but I’m nowhere near the level of a professional. Still, astronomy is fascinating and if I’d been better at math as a child, I might’ve gone into that field.

Are you religious?    

I am, but not rigidly.

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

A millions dollars! Just kidding. I’ll settle for dinner, drinks, and maybe some weed, haha.

I’m going to tag some folks to do this if they so wish: @koolkat9, @lady--lisa, @lesbianmarigold, @acemapleeh, @draw-a-circle-thats-the-compass, @maelerie, @sinunamor, @kitaychan, @needcake