#IN THEORY it was supposed to taste like peach

[bonefall]

i saw this and i immediately went "irl tunnelbuddy !!!!" . no idea what a marzipan is but ur worldbuilding has CHANGED ME

[ID: Wikipedia article of Marzipan Pigs, a confectionery]

Something SUPER similar happened to Troutfur the other day! He came across some kind of old text of a man defending himself from accusation, which translated directly to, "I contain no burglar-ness!!" and he was like "WOW, SERIOUS CLANMEW VIBES FROM THIS ONE"

My partner also keeps seeing villain cats in media and comes to me like, "Is this a warriors?"

So know that I have infected everyone who becomes exposed to me and it's contagious

[wanderingpages]

peach!! can you write a car sex jurdan smut? it can be short but the concept is so sexy 😭 on my knees rn

∞

“You’re trouble,” Cardan had told me minutes prior, but he repeats it now, more wary than he had been when he said it by the bar. Maybe I had used him then, because it sounded like flirting to me and I so badly needed his help. It’s how I’d always gotten what I needed before. Maybe I thought he was no different, so I took him down to a hall no one ever used and pressed him up against the wall. I smiled at him, feeling shy from his attention but not wanting to admit it. My hands had wound around his neck, and his fingertips traced up my shoulder, guiding my hair to one side. He placed a kiss on my throat and I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Then further up he trailed his soft lips and I gasped. I gripped at his hair to guide his lips to mine. He tasted heady and like the scotch I had given him. Cardan had cradled the back of my head, tilting me as he pressed his tongue into my mouth to open and deepen the kiss. He felt like mine, I felt a little guilty answering his question.

“Jude,” he had murmured against my skin, kissing a patch from my mouth to my throat, then his lips were by my ears and he asked, “What do you want from me, princess?” When I told him, he immediately fell back, only half in a daze but vehemently shaking his no – but I won in the end, because here we are, where I asked to be. I feel only a little remorseful and he’s telling me I’m trouble again.

I tilt my body, trying to get a closer look at the scene, but no matter how much I shift and turn, I can’t quite make out who my father is with, nor what he’s saying. My finger absently finds the buttons on the side of the car, but before I can lower the window, Cardan takes hold of my wrist. I’m already practically on top of him, my knees bracing against the console from the passenger’s side, and a hand planted firmly onto his lap. So it shouldn’t bother me when he pulls me closer, tightening his hold on me. Cardan’s warm fingers encircle my wrists, his thumb right where my veins sing.

I’m alive, he should note. I give him a look, eyes unable to stray too far from his still pink and swollen lips. I did that, I think to myself. I wonder how many other can say the same. And then I realize I don’t actually want to consider that at all. Cardan narrows his dark eyes at me, “Don’t even think about it, Jude.” My name on his tongue always felt like sin, but it’s when he teases me with my pseudo-reign that I feel like penance should only a breath away.

“But -” my mouth feels dry, searching for excuses but he shakes his head, halting my explanation.

“We’re not even supposed to be here,” he seethes, “and if you think we’re not being watched right now, you’re sorely mistaking.” I find myself pouting when he firmly guides me back into my seat, forcing me to gather the rest of my surroundings. We’re in a secluded area, backroads lined with trash bags and oily pathways between buildings. My father is currently having a “business meeting,” as he explained before abruptly leaving. I’ve only ever seen business meetings that take place between alleyways in movies that involve the mob.

When I tell Cardan this, pointedly looking at my father’s silhouette, he gives me a dry kind of look I choose to ignore. So long as he’s looking at me, I suppose. He was left in charge of watching over the club in Dad’s absence, but we both knew it just meant watching over me.  I was working the bar tonight, a job my father now is incredibly annoyed with, despite the fact it had been his suggested punishment for my overspending a bit.

“Just because there’s no limit does not mean you get to test that theory, Jude.” I roll my eyes now, because jokes on him; I'm a hit at parties now that I know to mix drinks and do little flairs that I’m quite proud of. I like to impress Cardan with them when he leaves Dad’s office and orders something boring on the rocks. I’m nearly positive that’s the charm that had him following me to that hall and led to him driving me right where we are currently parked.

“Haven’t you heard the saying? Curiosity killed the girl.”

“It does not go like that,” I tell Cardan, unamused.

I’m no idiot, I know Madoc’s club is only half of where our family income comes from, and the guests he entertains in the VIP section are never just guests. Business partners maybe, buyers or sellers, I could never tell. It was the same as usual until Dad had gotten a phone call in the middle of his hosting. It had seemed as if he had been waiting for the call all evening. However, him leaving abruptly made me too antsy to stand idle and make vodka cranberries all night. It always felt like the entire staff was in on a big secret I wasn’t apart of. It didn’t help that lately, Dad had been a little worn down, coming home tired or frustrated, answering calls curtly, stuck in his own head looking haggard. I’m allowed to worry.

“You didn’t,” Cardan says, pausing the sudden gnawing I’d been doing on my bottom lip, “by the way. Your bar tricks are not what got you into my car.” I guess he’s a mind reader now too.

“You’re telling me you weren’t impressed with my juggling?” I didn’t even break a bottle this time.

He sighs, “you probably could have just asked and I’d taken you.” I raise an eyebrow, not believing him since even with all my womanly whiles and eccentric charm, I still had to plead with him to get out here. The side of his lip tilts up in a smirk. “I just like watching you beg.” He shrugs, “So, you would have begged.” His warm voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Maybe I would have gotten you on your knees.” He could still get me on my knees if he asked nicely, but I don’t tell him that.  Cardan glances out the window, making a face at the two men. “There’s no point in being here if you can’t even hear what’s being said.”

I nod at this, finding my composure. “Exactly, Mr. Greenbriar.” I grin, “We should move closer.”

“No,” he tells me. He fumbles for the lock but my door is swung open before he manages to press the button. His eyes widen, “Jude,” he scowls quietly when I give him a triumphant grin. Without waiting, I duck for cover, sneaking up closer to the building. “Fuck me,” I hear Cardan moan. “Jude, you idiot,” he mutters, silently getting out of the car and following me. When he’s caught up, he pushes me behind him as we near the corner of the building. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Are you not carrying?” I ask a bit startled. “Wait so that wasn’t a gun in your pocket? You really were excited to see me?” His hand comes over my mouth, and my eyes widen in shock, absolutely enthralled with the way he’s decided to manhandle me tonight. I’m always the one testing boundaries, so maybe my heart pounds a little faster at our proximity more than the shooters probably ready to gun us down – if Cardan is right about us being watched.

“Have you always been this bratty?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him instead of giving him an actual answer. He looks heavenwards before moving to stand behind me. One hand is now across my chest, the other still firmly over my mouth. I lick him but he doesn’t let off. “Of course, I’m armed, but I’m not Superman, princess. I don’t even think I have 15 rounds,” he says the last part more to himself, but that’s news to me anyways.

We lean closer to the alleyway, bracing our shoulders on to the bricks of the building. Whatever Dad and his friend are talking about is only slightly less muffled than before. Its longer than I expect to finally make out pretty keywords like “shipment” and “missing equipment,” and then something that has me ridged.

“You have three daughters don’t you, Madoc?”

“Don’t bring them into this,” Dad responds clearly. My heart beats even faster, I'm all too aware of Cardan’s palm searing hot against the unsteady thumping. He pulls me even tighter against him. Dad says, “I came in good faith to hear you out. You’re the one who lost my supplies.”

“You’re the one who lost two of my guys,” the other man counters, not really angry and seemingly uncaring for the men in question. He makes my skin crawl on sight alone.

“That’s not my -”

The other man holds up a finger, cutting my father off, offending me in the process. His phone had been ringing and Cardan stiffens, as the man answers, eyes still boring holes into my father. “Yes…really? Okay...” He hangs up and tilts his head, “Good faith? Someone’s tailing us.”

“I didn’t -” whatever my dad says, I don’t get to hear. Cardan is cursing, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me towards the car. It’s a struggle because my entire body wants to run to Dad, but the hold Cardan has on me is iron tight. A shot goes off and my body seizes. My eyes go so wide they hurt. I only wanted to know what Dad was hiding, wanted in on the big secret everyone knew but me – wanted some type of undeniable proof so he couldn’t brush this away, brush me away. More shots are fired and I’m too far to know who’s shooting at who.

Cardan pulls open the car door and shoves me in before rushing to the other side. I don’t even have my seatbelt on when he pulls out of the spot. I hear more bangs ricocheting and panic begins to set in, “Cardan! Dad -”

“He’s fine – Balekin wasn’t lying.”

“Balekin?”

Cardan doesn’t exactly answer me, but continues, “Madoc definitely brought back up. No good faith and all that.” He waves his hand and it freaks me out that both hands are not on the steering wheel. It also unnerves me that Cardan knows my Dad’s tells more than me. “We, on the other hand…” he trails off, shifting gears and stepping on the gas. My heart flies into my throat. I hurriedly manage to snap on the seatbelt, but even then, I don’t think that’ll protect me at all if Cardan decides to bend us into a tree or light pole or worse – another vehicle. “God,” he mutters, “you’re so reckless, Jude” he mumbles, “absolute fucking brat,” he continues. My cheeks flare pink but I hold my tongue, scared I might vomit if I talk. I grip at the leather seats so tight I feel my knuckles start to cramp. “And me – I follow you like a fucking dog.” Outside is a blur of lights and the night sky. I'm too scared to look at the speedometer but I know it’s beyond what the legal limit is. The one reprieve is that the road is clear for now.

“I think where in a fifty zone,” I finally manage in a squeak. Cardan side eyes me and I let out a yelp, “Oh my god, pay attention to the road!”

My hysterical tone eases him somehow, because he begins to relax. He eyes the rear view mirror and shrugs, taking a hand off the steering wheel again. My heart is beating so fast that my eyes seem to shake at every little pump. “We’re good,” he lets me know. He smirks at me and when I look sick at his lack of attention to the road, he tells me, “Crack the widow, let your hair down and all.” He does it for me with his free hand reaching to the top of my head, pulling at the clip securing my bun. It unravels just as the window slides down. Air gusts through my hair and stings my face.

My ears are filled with the rush of wind. “I…” My words are lost in the noise.

“It’s okay, princess, I’m a good driver,” he promises.

“What are you,” I manage, hoarse, “Dad’s getaway driver?” he shifts gears and I'm seeing double. Soon we’ll be doing donuts in the parking lot.

He shrugs, “When he needs me to be.” I remember what he said about curiosity killing the girl and that must explain the stroke I’m having. I feel like an idiot – a little girl trying to be much bigger than she is. What the hell would Dad even say if I go to him about tonight? He’d probably gaslight me. I shakily look back, wondering if we’re being followed. I calm when I see that its just us. “Do you trust me?”  

I nod my head and settle back into the seat. I try to get my mind off of this, thinking about our kiss from earlier instead. Had only an hour passed since then? I should apologize for leading him on only to get him here. Except I hadn’t really led him on. I’ve wanted Cardan since the moment Dad introduced us. I think him working directly under my father only fueled my desire more. It felt very taboo. However, those thoughts only race my pulse for a completely different reason. Slowly, I release my death grip on the seat and hold my hand out to Cardan. He raises a brow, but takes it anyway, letting me squeeze it tightly. “Yeah,” I whisper. I clear my throat, “I trust you.”

There’s a lot to take in, but I'm trying to stabilize my pulse instead. It’s like an onslaught of adrenaline wafting through me repeatedly and I can’t find a release. The car rolls to a stop just off the highway and into the cover of trees and shrubbery, This feels like an illegal spot to park, but what do I know? I watch in a stupor as the slim needle on the dashboard falls from somewhere in the hundreds down, down, down to 0. I find myself absolutely petrified but yet a giggle escapes me. Suddenly, I have this uncontrollable urge to laugh because if I don’t, I think I might cry.

“Are you okay?” Cardan reaches over and unclips my belt. He then brushes my hair back, forcing my gaze to his. He thumbs at my eyes, tearing up from the wind, and not at all because of the emotional turmoil I’m going through.

The rush that had been whipping past my ear had been halted so suddenly that my head begins to sway. I turn to look at him, uncaring for once how unput together I must look. “Dad…”

“He’s fine,” Cardan says again, sure of himself. “Are you?”

“Not dead,” I confirm, and he gives my hand a little squeeze. I give him a dazed look, and then, I smile softly at him. It must have been what he was waiting for. In one swift motion, Cardan tugs me over the console, guiding me to straddle is lap. My skirt hikes up and Cardan only pushes it up higher. There’s a pulse between my legs and when he pulls me down, his breath tickles my skin, filling me with heat all the way to the pit of my stomach.

“You’re okay,” he tells me quietly. “It’s okay, Jude.” I nod, placing my hands in his shoulder, fingers teasing at his dark curls. I stare at his neck, at the tendon there that I want to place my lip against. I bend down to do just that, letting his steady pulse beat against my skin. “Jude,” he murmurs, tilting his head to give me more access. When I press my lips on his skin, he sucks in a breath.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, leaning up.

His hands run up my thighs, and if I had survived a shootout and a lone speed race, I don’t think I can survive Cardan and the way he looks at me right now. “For what?”

“Using you?”

Cardan chuckles, and reaches one hand up, working at the buttons of my shirt. Slowly, he pushes it off my shoulders, letting the material fall to the floor, all the while he’s admiring the swell of my breasts, contained only by sheer white lace. He looks up at me, gauging my come down from the adrenaline. I’m still utterly tweaked, and every touch of his is no help at all. My skin is on fire everywhere his fingertips touch. He teases a digit over my breast, up my neck and to my chin, pinching it between his fingers and pulling me forward. “I don’t think it counts,” he tells me. “I would have done this anyway,” he reminds me.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

His lips graze against mine and there’s a heat pooling between my legs. I shift, only to find him already hard and straining in his jeans. “Tell me to stop,” he mouths against me. I don’t. My eyes flutter and I hold on to him tighter. I pick at the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them until my cool hands can press firmly to his hard chest. His muscle seem to tighten when I graze them. Cardan holds my wrist gently this time, guiding it further down to his navel. “Come on princess, tell me this is a bad idea.” I stay silent. Even if it was a bad idea, I won’t let it stop. “Then open your mouth for me.”

My lips part for him and when our tongues meet, Cardan moans softly. He pulls me in closer, nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it until my toes curl. His hand on my thigh slides over my ass and between my legs from behind. His fingers deftly rubbing at the already wet cotton and I gasp out, arching my neck, letting him trace his tongue down my skin. He pulls down a strap of my bra with his free hand, meeting my eyes and keeping my gaze as he lowers his head to kiss the tip of my breast. I inhale when his tongue laves my nipple, drawing it into his mouth. He sucks gently at first, finger rubbing over me just as soft. Then, he tugs my underwear to the side, now parting my pussy just as he begins to suck on me harder.

He makes a noise that vibrates against my skin. I hold his head against me, nearly close to weeping. His teeth graze my skin and I jump, hitting my head against the ceiling of the car. He pulls away from me, his lips obscenely wet and his eyes lidded. He reaches up, rubbing my head before feeling the side of his seat and pulling a lever to slowly recline the seat. “Sorry,” he says and I laugh, despite the ache in my breast and the throb in my pussy. I bite at my lip and undo his belt. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells me and my skin heats up. He pulls the other side of my bra down while I stroke his stiff cock. “Beautiful,” he repeats, I'm dripping between my thighs and his finger rubs me faster.

I go in for another kiss. Not short and sweet like I had been intending. This time Cardan kisses me rough and hard. There’s passion and ache between us. He reaches down to align the head of his cock where it needs to be. He rubs the tip between my slit with one hand, the other moves to come between us, rubbing soft circles into my clit. My knees strain on either side of him, and I let out a whimper when he teases the head shallowly. My hand finds his shoulders, and I cry out when he thrusts upwards, impaling me in one swift movement.

“Cardan!” My head falls forward, into his neck, and I try to muffle the cry into his skin. He gives me little time to adjust before he pulls out and slams back in. My muscles pulse when he pauses again, gripping him in spasms. He groans wrapping his arms around my back, moving me to his pace now, and I try to keep up with his steady pounding, but all I can find the energy to do is lay on top of him and take it as the length of him rubs every tender spot within me. I’m groaning and panting and he’s whispering my name.

“Jude…” my nipples feel so tender, brushing against his chest at every thrust, “God – you take me so good, don’t you?” I feel like I’m being spilt in two and its absolutely delicious. “Does that feel good, princess?”

“Yes,” I say, breathing hard. He thrusts into me harder, and harder and swear he’s rocking the car, but I want more of him, so much more. “Yes – Cardan…” my eyes get glassy, and I shut them tight, pressing my head onto his shoulder.  He slows down and grabs hold of my hair, pulling my head back. The slower he moves the deeper he seems to go; the tip of his dick kissing at my womb. I whimper, fingers flexing against his skin

“Look at me,” he whispers, sweat sheening his body now, slick and warm. His eyes are wild and full of lust and I'm so gone for him, so absolutely gone for this man. “Tell me,” Cardan requests in a slur. “Say it again.”

“It feels… so good,” I manage, “ah… more,” I beg and he’s ramming into me now, so hard and rough and then I say, “faster… please…” and it’s so frantic that I grab on to the headrest, bracing myself so I could take everything he gives me. There’s a tight knot at the pit of my stomach, and my cunt is dripping onto him. My heart hasn’t calmed down since the first gunshot but I find that I don’t mind the intense thumping anymore; it makes me feel so alive instead of being on the verge of death.

“Come for me, baby,” Cardan orders. He fucks me so recklessly, and his shaft rubs against my throbbing clit at every deep stroke. I feel delirious, holding my breath and clenching my stomach.

“Ah,” I cry out, back arching. His hand in my hair loosens to roam down my body. “I…Oh,” I bite at my lips, feeling the start of an orgasm that wouldn’t quite come. “I don’t know if I…” my confession trails off as I fall back with his guidance, careful not to honk the horn. He slows down again, torturing me. His finger finds my hardened clit and I scream when he presses down on it.

“You can,” Cardan lets me know. “You will,” he promises, in a breath. “For me, just for me.” My hands are frantic, unsure of what to hold onto. He pulls them around his neck, bringing me over him again. “I can go as long as it takes, princess,” he says into my ear before he kisses me there, then lower until his teeth latches on to the curve of my neck, all while fucking me hard and deep and so dirty, driving into me with little mercy. I’ve forgotten my name, it must be Princess with how much he says it. But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, just him being inside of me does.

He fucks me endlessly and I bite down on his neck, mirroring him, screaming when I come. It feels so intense, I see stars as I shudder uncontrollably.  Cardan cries out too, slamming into me one last time, his climax mixing with mine and it seems unending when I shudder again, tightening my thighs against his. I gasp again when my stomach clenches, “Cardan,” I whimper, slowly coming down.

Cardans hand brushes down my back, soothing me as we both try to catch our breaths. He gently lifts me up, letting his cock slip from me. Come drips out of me, pouring onto him but he doesn’t care and I don’t think I care either. He smooths my hair back and pulls me in for a kiss, soft and slow this time. He reaches between us, and my body jolts when he pets my pussy, rubbing at the soreness sure to come soon. When we pull away, I ask, “Where did that come from?”

“Long time in the making,” he grins wryly, “you already knew that though.” I roll my eyes but jump at the vibration in his pants. His phone was buzzing. He pauses his hand on me and reaches into his pocket awkwardly. It’s my dad’s name on the screen and my cheek runs from a soft blush to full on crimson. Cardan unlocks it and reads the message. He looks up at me warily. “He’s asking why you left early from the bar.”

“Tell him I went for a ride.” I grin.

Cardan fights a smile, muttering, “trouble,” like a praise as he begins to type.

[cafeseoulmate]

Why We (Don’t) Work

i'm okay with being by your side for as long as i can hide what if i told you that i've fallen?

featuring: music major!beomgyu x fine arts major!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst, childhood best friends to lovers, neighbors to lovers au, idiots to lovers au, high school au, college au, band au, hurt/comfort, slice of life, slowburn, mutual pining, 5+1 & nonlinear format

wc: 13k

warnings and other notes: cursing, alcohol consumption, reader is implied bi/pan, two jokes about murder, mention of the flu, brief mention of making out, cliches, inaccurate portrayal of a painting & sculpture double major, idk where this was going tbh

I. WE'VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR TOO LONG

The idea of friends eventually becoming lovers, especially those who have known each other for a long time, is okay in your opinion. In theory, the principle of falling in love with someone whom you've previously built a relationship with is not that great but not that awful either.

It's reasonable, practical and natural even in many situations. You would know from the amount of friends you've watched over the years who only started seeing each other romantically after a few years of getting to know and being comfortable around each other platonically.

You just figure that it's not for you and Choi Beomgyu, the nuisance who's been affectionately stuck to your hip since your days at the neighborhood playground.

For starters, you've known him for far too long. Not that love is supposed to have an expiration date, it's just that most people who start off friends—like your college friends Yeji and Ryujin who started dating before your junior year—usually take less than a decade, and that is really pushing it in your humble opinion.

Beomgyu's known you since the time you were sporting bowl cuts your mom fashioned with your kitchen scissors, probably and unconsciously even longer than that given that your respective moms have also been close friends since you were toddlers. You've pushed each other at the swings and the slides more than any of your other childhood friends, have gone to the same schools together spent most of your non-holidays with each other since kindergarten, and even live in the same university dorm at the present.

You both had almost 16 years to bring up anything remotely close to romantic feelings with each other and the closest to romantic-leaning affection that you got from him was the time he gave you a bouquet of roses, and he didn't even buy it for you originally.

It was in your 10th grade, when Valentine's Day gifts have finally reached normal status among the consciousness of your teen peers. Since Halloween, Beomgyu had been saving up his money to buy Yeeun from Class 4 a bouquet of roses—bribing you to pay for his lunch two out of five days in the week, singing and dancing his ass off at his family's Christmas and Lunar New Year parties for money, and working the afternoon shift at the neighborhood guitar store—only to chicken out at the last minute because Jaehyun from Class 6 had asked Yeeun to be his girlfriend in a very public proposal at the soccer field.

In a small class reunion last Christmas, Taehyun had asked about the whole ordeal, supported by the drunk cheerings of your former classmates at the memory of Beomgyu handing you the abnormally large bouquet by the school gate during dismissal almost five years ago.

"What else do you want to know about that?" You asked with a frown, feeling light-headed from all the barbecue and soju yourself. It was finals week for most of you as well, somehow making all the shots of peach-flavored alcohol taste sweeter and the stories bitterer. "You all know how it went: Gyu chickened out and didn't want to waste his hard-earned money on a girl who got a boyfriend that same day so he gave it to me before we went home."

"You also gave me half of the money to buy it! That's also an important detail!" Beomgyu slurred out to your right, leaning his head on your arm with a giggle and making you roll your eyes. "I thought, 'ya, this person bought me lunch for three months they kind of bought this bouquet so I'll just give it to them. That's only fair!'"

Yunjin raised a finger this time, as if making a shushing motion in the air as she took a long sip of her soju bottle across the table. "Okay but!" She exclaimed after slamming her bottle down, momentarily covering her mouth as she hiccuped before continuing. "You...you could've just gave it to your mom or something!"

"Auntie's allergic to flowers." You pointed out. "My dad also forgot to buy my mom flowers that time so I gave it to him when I got home. I technically saved two lives that day.”

"So it didn't spark anything?" Jeongin pointed to you then to Beomgyu who was contemplating on falling asleep on you by that point, clearly uninterested in this conversation you've had with the rest of the world a million times already. "Not even a little bit?"

Of course there were times over the years, at least on your part—moments where Beomgyu spent an hour too long in your childhood home when he just told you that his parents wanted him to come home at a certain time, filled a day with questionably sweet gestures only to bribe you with trouble after, or comforted you too well in your darkest moments among others that made your heart flutter more than it's supposed to.

You never told anyone about how on that day, you plucked out a single rose from the bouquet before secretly handing it to your dad as he cooked a quick Valentine's Day dinner for your mom. There was no denying that, even if he gave it to you under pitiful circumstances, it was still a sweet gesture. After Yeeun, he thought of giving it to you, the next immediate person and his best friend.

The red rose drank fresh water by your windowsill for three days until Beomgyu invited himself over for a cram session when you ended up hiding the flower shamefully under your bed and convincing yourself that you were just momentarily blinded by the principle of the gesture.

Though it accidentally wilted after you've forgotten about it amidst your busy high school schedule, you still keep the petals in a box under your bed as a reminder of all those moments you've thought you were starting to feel something for your best friend, only to snap yourself out of it after. You even had one of the petals made into a resin necklace by Yeji when she picked up on the hobby, wearing it everyday since without Beomgyu ever asking about it’s significance.

He just thinks you got it from the congratulatory bouquet the boys all pitched in to give when you won a sculpting competition at the university museum.

But as mentioned, you've mostly come to terms with the fact that you've known Beomgyu long enough to let a lot of opportunities to pass by, even if it pains you. Though romantic love doesn’t have to have an expiration date, you think you’ve been around your best friend long enough to know and accept that nothing is going to happen.

So to keep up appearances, you shook your head in front of your demanding friends that night at the reunion and teasingly pushed the sleeping Beomgyu to Taehyun's shoulder, much to everyone's disappointment.

"I've known him for all my life, literally. If something remotely romantic were to happen, it should've happened years ago." You grimaced before downing another shot of peach soju, that particular shot stinging a bit too much for your liking.

"But that's, like, the tricky thing with friends: you never really know when things are starting to be something else with one or both people." Sieun pointed out with a pout.

"Oh, I can assure you, it's not like that with us." You waved your hand dismissively in response before quickly going back to gathering your next mouthful of lettuce wrap. “Anyway, you guys have known us pretty well too. We just don’t match that way.”

Next to you, Beomgyu groaned seemingly in agreement as he stirred on Taehyun's shoulder, moving to lean on you again. "You're all so fucking noisy." He mumbled on the nook of your neck, hands encircling around your waist as he then pointed at the jug of water on the table. “If Y/N says it's not like that then it's not like that. So let me sleep and let Y/N eat their food!"

You shrugged at Sieun and Yunjin, smoothly shifting the conversation's focus to Sieun after before filling in a glass of water for Beomgyu as he’s requested.

"You're going to have a nasty hangover later, you know." You pointed out to him, making sure to keep your voice low knowing that he's sensitive to noise when he's drunk.

"You'll take care of me." He replied confidently with a boyish grin, more as a statement than a question. "Can I sleep over your dorm later? Hyuka won't let me in the room like this and Ryujin's already on vacation anyway."

You then rolled your eyes, knowing full well that you don’t have a choice anyway. "Sure, sure."

II. WE HAVE SHIT TASTE IN PEOPLE (AND IT WOULD BE AN INSULT TO OURSELVES IF WE START LIKING EACH OTHER)

The first time someone directly and publicly questioned Beomgyu's relationship with you, however, was at the traditional secret gathering your classmates had arranged in your two-day senior retreat just four years ago. On that night, after a whole day of tedious team-building activities and an evening of getting lectured by your teachers on house rules, most of Class 2 gathered at the boys' shared room for swiped alcohol and midnight snacks.

At that time, it was Daehwi who had asked and the context was the equally traditional game of truth or dare. When Beomgyu was picked for the second time that night, he surprisingly chose truth, prompting the question everyone has apparently been asking among themselves.

"Would you date Y/N?"

Beomgyu laughed. It was always his instinct to laugh whenever his own relatives asked the same question or when you would tell your own similar experiences but also because he saw you throwing your head back in laughter as well from where you were seated between Yunjin and Ryujin.

But what really solidifies this question as an inside joke between the two of you was the time when you watched When Harry Met Sally together at a sleepover in Beomgyu's house a year before the class retreat.

It was the classic friends to lovers romcom that you ended up watching in that particular sleepover in the first place because Yunjin mentioned that it reminded her of you and Beomgyu. So of course it had to be brought up before you could accidentally fall asleep on Beomgyu that night, you pointing to Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan before smacking Beomgyu in the head and asking the exact same question the boy would face at the senior retreat.

"Without thinking about all the gross couple shit like kissing or whatever," You gagged between your question, making Beomgyu roll his eyes and scoff. "would you date me?"

"First of all: gross—"

"That's why I said without all the couple stuff!"

"Still gross! Why would you think of that question!"

Back to the class retreat, once Beomgyu had calmed down from laughing and before Jeongin or Hueningkai could start leading the teasing on how you and your best friend reacted to the question in the same way at the same time, he said, "Y/N has shit taste in people. It'd be an insult to myself if they start liking me, even more if we do date."

You laughed even harder, repeating the words back to him. "Ya, you have shit taste in people too!"

Daehwi almost did a whole spit take with his glass of Cola while hearing your exchange. "Damn, you two are brutal with each other!"

Taehyun told Beomgyu later on that he felt as if that particular answer could be misinterpreted as the latter being mean to you. But your best friend was quick to explain that it's something you actually talked about in the aforementioned sleepover. You also backed him up on this over breakfast the next day when you sat with the two boys.

On the night of your sleepover, after you asked the question and Beomgyu was done making his teasing disgusted faces in front of you, he had said the exact same words for the first time and even elaborated on it.

And like Daehwi, you also almost did a spit take hearing it for the first time but your own glass of hot chocolate.

"You had a crush on Yeonjun two years ago before he was cool and you dated that annoying what's-her-name from the softball team who, by the way, cheated on you before you could even celebrate 100 days." The blunt 11th-grader Beomgyu said in front of your surprised face on that sleepover. "Ah, and don't get me started on that time you were swooning over that asshole Taejoon from Class 7 last semester because he sat next to you on the bus when I got the flu? You were crushing on a guy who thought he was jack shit and played with a lot of girls while I was almost dying in the hospital! Shit taste and inconsiderate!"

You and Beomgyu also did not forget to mention to Taehyun about how you almost smothered Beomgyu to death with a pillow in response, pausing the movie so Meg Ryan didn't have to see the crime you were about to do before tackling your best friend on the bed.

"Hey, Yeonjun's cool and Minji from softball really is an asshole but I didn't know Taejoon had a reputation in Class 7 back then! I just thought he was cute and really polite to the old ladies and the kids on the bus!" You retorted aggressively, smacking Beomgyu's face repeatedly with the Hello Kitty pillow he lent you for that night. "And I visited you with the boys and Yunjin after school while you were sick to catch you up in class, you ungrateful brat! I have shit taste but I'll never be inconsiderate to you!

"While we're at it, you also have shit taste, mind you! Pining after girls like Yeeun and Rina right when they start dating other people! Ah, and you dated that girl, Areum, in the 9th grade too even when everyone kept telling you that she was trying to get to Soobin through you! Shit taste and idiotic!"

Your college years would not spare the both of you from having more strings of failed romantic relationships just as much as it did not stop all the questions from friends, both new and old, about Beomgyu's relationship with you so the answer always remained the same: both of you have shit taste in people so dating each other would be somehow insults to yourselves.

But there are times, of course, when it would just be you and Beomgyu alone and, instead of the usual jokes and banter, he allows himself to be just slightly honest for the sake of his sanity and to make sure that you never feel as if he has some hidden ill-intent in always jokingly bringing up the uglier sides of your dating history.

In another sleepover at his house last summer, he didn't fight you when you decide on watching My Best Friend's Wedding and blurted out halfway, "As your own best friend, I think you deserve the best."

Though no one did a spit take this time, you did momentarily freeze while trying to tuck yourself in under the weighted blanket you were sharing. On his laptop perched comfortably on a foldable table, the movie was coincidentally at the part where Julia Roberts was delivering the iconic, "Choose Me” speech.

“I'll have to say this quick or I'm just going to have this massive coronary and then you'll never hear it and.....and....you have to. This is, by far the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire life.” Julia Roberts dramatically delivered on the laptop screen as if filling in the silence. “Ugh—so dumb in fact—uh—that I can't...... oh but I'm gonna.”

“What’s wrong?” Her male lead, Dermont Mulroney, asked and Beomgyu felt like he should be asking that question to you when your silence started dragging on for too long.

When you did regain your composure, you chuckled nervously. "I-I mean yeah, I know, but...what's with that all of a sudden?" You furrowed your brows up at him.

And like he was mirroring you, Beomgyu also paused for a moment as he too contemplated on why he said it out of nowhere.

Meanwhile, Julia Roberts just continued delivering her lines flawlessly, filling in the silence between the two of you. “Michael......I love you. I've loved you for nine years. I've just been too arrogant and scared to realize it and, well, now I'm just scared. So I, I......realize that this comes at a very inopportune time. But I really have this gigantic favor to ask of you.” Though the sound coming in on your respective earphones was only at 75%, suddenly it felt louder the longer that Beomgyu didn't speak. “Choose me? Marry me. Let me make you happy.”

Beomgyu scratched the nape of his neck and smiled sheepishly, turning away for a second as you finally pause the movie and the light illuminates the side of his face a little too brightly.

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re gonna pull a Julia Roberts right now. You know—“

“What? No!"

“Then answer the question!”

"I just remembered, you know, how we always say that we won't date each other because we both have shitty taste in people and everything." He shrugged when he did explain himself, unconsciously sinking lower on the bed as he pressed his back harder on the bed frame behind you. "And I know it's a joke and all but I—I also think that you deserve better than someone like me...or Yeonjun, Soobin, Tae, and Hyuka.

“Though I guess it is hard to find someone better than us, especially me and Soobin, I think you should still look for someone who’s really kind, smart, and will never give you a hard time. You deserve someone who looks out for you and makes you feel like home but also like you’re flying.

“Someone who’s funny too but not too funny to upstage me! Just enough to get you through the dark times because you do get really stressed out these days. I—I don’t know, I guess I was just thinking about—about that, yeah…”

You relaxed your expression as he spoke, though a small pout remained. "Okay..." You pressed play on the laptop again with a laugh. "Random but okay.”

“I give my whole heart out to you in a speech and that’s all you have to say?”

“What else do you want me to say?” You scoffed and playfully nudged him away, earning you a dramatic wince from him. "With how you generally act around people I like, it's not that hard to figure out that it's because you think this way."

“Yeah but, I don’t know, maybe say it back to me too and comfort my lonely, lonely heart?” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in response.

“I think that’s a you problem. We all tell you to just get yourself out there then you reject every person who throws themself at you.”

The boy feigned a glare next. “I’m going to kill you in your sleep later.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, moving carefully on the bed to face him fully. “You deserve someone infinitely better than me too. Someone gorgeous—not just pretty!—and smart enough to keep your dumbass in check and just overall awesome, but not too awesome, of course! I’m literally the coolest person you’ll ever meet…ever!”

"Oh you flatter me, Y/N!" He exclaimed dramatically with his hands to his chest, smiling when you snorted and turned your attention back to the laptop again to press play on the movie.

Though he partly thinks otherwise—that it’s impossible that there’s someone out there infinitely better than you overall—he does agree that you are the coolest person in his life.

"You're so annoying." You mumbled under your breath and he quickly retaliated by pinching your cheek affectionately. "Ya!"

"You love me."

"I know right, how will I even find someone better than you?" You teased but Beomgyu's observant enough to understand that you only mean it halfway.

"Maybe you won't?" He teased back with a wink. "I know for sure no one's better than you."

"Shut up."

III. WE ARE EXTREME OPPOSITES (AND WE ANNOY EACH OTHER A LOT)

If you were to be asked about the things that annoy you about Beomgyu and vice versa, you both would probably need a month of preparation and a year each just to list everything you've come up with. Sure, you’ve known each other for a long enough time to be comfortable in each other’s presence but that doesn’t make everyday perfect as there are still instances when you get the undeniable urge to smack him in the head or dropkick him for being insufferable.

If you were to make a top five shortlist, however, the fact that Beomgyu has no concept of personal space when it comes to you would take the cake—pinching your cheeks, holding your hand whenever a remotely attractive person passes you by, always putting his legs on top of yours, hugging you to death, and always headlocking you when you meet up among others.

But beyond that, ever since he got comfortable with initiating skinship with you around the 3rd grade, he's also somehow managed to convince himself that he had the right to be all up in your personal business too even when you didn't want him to—from simple things like stealing your food, spamming you with messages the second you don't reply as quickly as he'd like, to always having insisting that he accompanies you whenever you mention going to a new place, online stalking anyone you find interesting, randomly popping up at the studio in the Fine Arts department, and loosely keeping tabs on people you hang out with.

There have been times, however, when Beomgyu’s nosiness has actually saved you from a date or unwanted attention in public and even comforted you. In elementary and high school, whenever you’re allowed to pick groupmates, he’s always ready with gossip about everyone’s work ethic for some reason. Whenever a creep at the mall or at a party would try to hit on you, he’s always by your side ready with a glare and all intent to report the creep to the authorities. And even when he’s a shit drunk, he’s always aware enough to defend you whenever your friends pick on you.

But more importantly, as the more reserved person between the two of you, Beomgyu’s always the one who’s forcing you to open up to at least one person when you’re down (aka him).

The first sleepover that the two of you ever had was in the 6th grade when Beomgyu invited himself over to your house and stayed up with you until 3 AM to finish a Science project your three other groupmates basically gave up on. You never asked him to do it, just complained about it over lunch once, then suddenly he was barging in your house with his own stationary and your Science teacher already notified of how your groupmates have been slacking the past two weeks.

“Why did you do that?” You pouted after turning in your finished paper online. Fortunately for the two of you that time, it was a Friday and sleeping in wasn’t going to be an issue, especially for 6th grader Beomgyu who had the tendency to sleep the whole day. “I could’ve just told Mrs. Kim on Monday myself.”

Beomgyu shrugged as he fluffed the pillows and arranged your plushies on the bed. He hasn’t had his sudden growth spurt at that time so fitting in your old bed frame was still fairly easy then. “Knowing you and how long your groupmates have been bailing on you, you’d probably chicken out if Yunjin or I don’t do it ourselves or push you to do it.”

“No—“

“You know I’m right.“

You glared at him then, standing up from your desk to punch his arm. “I hate you.”

But he only rolled his eyes. “Then next time, I’ll try to not meddle that much anymore. Just…when our classmates are taking advantage of your kindness like this again, report it immediately, okay?” He nagged, his voice soft while his expression was determined. “Even if you don’t tell me directly, I know you’ve been having a hard time with that even more this year for some reason and, knowing you, you’d rather suck it up because you think you’re bothering people when you bring it up when you’re not.”

“That’s not true.”

“Y/N.” He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips.

You scoffed, climbing in the bed and laying down on the side next to the wall. “Okay, maybe sometimes it’s true.”

“Y/N.” He repeated your name in the same tone, lying next to you with your teddy bear in his arms. "Ms. Fluffy doesn't think so and I kind of agree with her."

You rolled your eyes in response, Beomgyu catching the gesture before he could turn off your bedside lamp. “Fine, fine. I admit it, I wasn’t—I wasn’t planning to tell Mrs. Kim because I thought my groupmates would get mad and think of me as a nuisance.” You winced at the admission, lifting your blanket up to your nose.

But Beomgyu was quick to stop your hand, flicking your forehead after. “Stop doing that. You literally did half of your paper, even the parts you weren’t assigned to. You’re far from a nuisance.” He retorted, tucking Ms. Fluffy the teddy bear next to you. “And Mrs. Kim’s job is literally to make sure we’re not having a hard time learning, she’d understand.”

That time, and most times when Beomgyu would be the one nagging you, you felt like shrinking under his fierce gaze. “I don’t want to get into trouble with anyone in class—“

“I’d fight anyone off for you if that happens."

“But I can handle myself if ever!”

“Now, you’re just contradicting yourself.” He pointed out with a chuckle, settling down next to you. “Just...next time, okay? You should never suffer in silence by choice, you’re better than that.”

You had no choice but to nod in agreement and fulfill your promise that very next Monday, talking to Mrs. Kim yourself to elaborate on the incident further with Beomgyu holding your hand the entire time.

Most of the time, it's sweet and thoughtful that your best friend looks out for you out of genuine concern. You can’t admit it to his face, knowing he’ll tease you endlessly for it, but you like Beomgyu having his full attention on you most of the time and how he can literally rival your family as the person who knows you best.

But alas, there are still numerous instances when it's caused you more harm than good to disastrous levels.

At the top of your head, there was that incident in the summer before your sophomore year when Yeji first set you up on a blind date with Theo, a friend of a friend from the Vocal Performance department.

You even made sure that Beomgyu wouldn't get anywhere near your bowling date, threatening all of your mutual friends to keep the agenda a secret over message (and free food for Taehyun and Hueningkai) and scheduling the date on the same weekend Beomgyu was going to take an exam for one of his summer classes.

However, when Theo briefly left you alone in your lane to buy snacks, a familiar mop of brown hair, black hoodie, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses suddenly whooshed in your peripheral vision, followed by two figures in hoodies you unmasked at the end of the night as Yeonjun and Soobin.

Another annoying thing that Beomgyu does is that when he’s “investigating” something—whether it’s a friend’s date or that time everyone thought Taehyun was secretly seeing someone—he always brings the same get-up of hoodie and thick-rimmed glasses along as "disguise." It's a stupid idea that first came to him when Yunjin went on her very first date in high school that he never bothered to change even when everyone started catching on, making it easier to spot him in your surroundings.

Though he didn't approach you until you approached him back in your dorms, it was still unnerving to spot him, Yeonjun, and Soobin playing five lanes away from you and your date. Their glances felt heavy on your back as the night went on.

"He was literally in two of your classes last semester. It's not like he's some stranger to you." You frowned at Beomgyu after letting Yeonjun and Soobin go with an earful of a speech of their own. Though you and Theo agreed that you clicked better as friends, you still lectured and nagged at your three friends in your dorm's communal kitchen with Beomgyu staying an hour longer than the other two. "How did you even get to the bowling alley? I thought you have an exam tonight?"

"My exam was only until 7 PM so I got Yeonjun to drive us to the bowling alley as soon as I got out. It was a celebratory thing for me too! That English final really kicked me in the ass, if you must know." Beomgyu answered with a pout, hands deep in his hoodie pockets and his glasses slipping on his nose. "And even if I do know Theo in passing, I don't know him that way. He’s more Yeji’s friend than mine. What if he was a shit dude when it comes to dates? What if he stood you up tonight or something?"

"You say that for all the people I like."

Beomgyu waved his hand dismissively in defense. "I only say that to the objectively trashy ones and the ones I don’t know enough about. Theo’s under the second category.”

"Still! You get what I mean!" You frowned as you smacked him on the back of his head, earning you a wince from him. "Gyu, once, just one date where you leave me alone. No disguises and no spam texts. Can you do that?"

There's a long pause that followed after with Beomgyu opening his mouth a couple of times only to close it back again, keeping you on edge for what felt like forever but was only for around five minutes.

He never told you what he was going to say at first or if he was even thinking of something else to say, you can just easily infer that it's different from what he actually ended up saying with the way his expression softened right before he finally spoke.

"Only if you tell me more about these things before you actually go on them. Even just the basic things are fine.” He frowned this time, crossing his arms. Even without you scanning every inch of his face, his expression easily gave away to the fact that he was thinking of saying something else but was trying his best to hold back. “I’m...I'm worried, okay? I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

"You know I can handle myself. We've been through this hundreds of times, I'm not that kid from the 4th grade who couldn't tell on my shit groupmates." You interjected, crossing your arms in front of the taller boy. "Anyway, if I ever need help, you're always the first one I'll call, you already know that."

He pouted down at you. "Sure?"

And you nodded with a laugh at his ridiculous expression, uncrossing your arms as you couldn't fight the amusement creeping up on you whenever Beomgyu tries to act cute anymore. "Positive."

So on the next two blind dates that Yeji set up for you that summer, you were pretty sure that Beomgyu only kept tabs on you through text as the hoodie and glasses were nowhere to be seen when you and your dates went out.

♡

On Beomgyu’s end, if he were to pick a top one habit of yours that he finds the most annoying it would be your tendency to hide your artworks from him until it’s finished when he’s always showing you his drafts.

Much like how you often try hiding your burdens, troubles, and blind dates from him, you often ban Beomgyu from seeing your drafts and sketches until the work itself is done which, as a fellow artist, makes him want to sneak up on you even more.

Especially when you think that you’ll be working on a particular project for a long time or if it’s in a medium you haven’t tried before, you’d often be blocking Beomgyu from seeing a peek of your plans out of a weird superstition that you might not finish anything if you hear a comment from him too early.

As your musician best friend who’s always showing you his own work even when it’s still disjointed lyrics and melodies in his head, Beomgyu sometimes thinks that you don’t trust him enough in something important as your own art. Without you knowing, it hurts him a bit sometimes because it’s as if he can’t be useful for you in that sense when you're always his most trusted critic when it comes to his music.

“It’s not like I can possibly make a bad comment.” Beomgyu insisted sometime during midterms as you talked over your senior thesis projects over dinner. It was almost 2 AM in your dorm’s communal kitchen, your mugs only half-filled with lukewarm chocolate when the boy asked if he could take a peek at your sketchbook after letting you hear some of his new music. “With you and your art? Impossible to make any bad comments I’m telling you!”

“Eh, but—“ Maybe it was the tiredness from having been up for 24 hours straight, trying to stay on top of your piling requirements, that unlike your usual response to Beomgyu’s pouting and puppy eyes, you decided to blurt out, “I just—I don’t know…I think too highly of your opinion.”

Beomgyu was effectively rendered frozen and speechless, missing the way you slouched your shoulders and hid your face behind your hair after your confession. “I—what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You deadpanned, taking another sip of your chocolate next to him. At least with your shoulders touching, you couldn't see the way his expression unconsciously softened while listening to you. "It's already embarrassing enough as it is."

“But…but why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you think highly of my opinion? It’s just me.” Beomgyu chuckled nervously, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment as he spoke. “Not like I’m a professional artist or whatever.”

“Do I really have to say it?”

Beomgyu nodded, pursing his lips. "I'm being serious right now." He pretended to squint his eyes and furrow his brows and you rolled your eyes in response.

With a sigh, you then answered. “It’s exactly because you’re you. You’re Choi Beomgyu, the annoying kid from the neighborhood who just decided one day that he’d join me at the plastic tables in the playground when he saw me drawing flowers on my mom's notepad. The one who bought me my first oil paint set for Christmas in the 7th grade because he said he noticed how much I enjoyed it in our Art class. The one who always adds more compliments to my work along with actually helpful feedback even when I ask for criticisms only because he’s too nice for his own good but he’s also very intuitive.

“You…annoying as it is, you’re kind of very important in my art and it makes me nervous sometimes to show you anything before it’s complete because I think it has to be perfect and totally not disappointing even when you first see it. I only want you to see good things from me...”

While the silence that followed felt like an hour for you, it felt like forever in Beomgyu's mind as his thoughts flew to the memories as you mentioned them.

Much like you, he can also vividly remember how exactly you befriended each other at the playground then, when he complimented your doodle of the daisy bushes by the swings because you drew them a little too well for a five-year-old with broken crayons and an unsharpened pencil. You even complained to him that you can render the flowers better if you just didn't forget your sharpener at home, leading to a whole conversation that you continued at the swings where he offered to push you for the rest of that afternoon.

He remembers that 7th grade Christmas when he picked your name for the class Secret Santa and didn't even have to read more on the wishlist below your name because he was already set on buying you an oil paint set and some brushes to go with it outside of the classroom. He knew you were saving up to buy it in the summer yourself but he also knew that it'd make you even happier to get it six months earlier so it was easy for him to take money from his own savings that were supposed to go on a new ukulele.

But more importantly, his mind lingers to a memory you didn't mention, to that day outside of the teacher's lounge when you were first filling in your college applications. While your other friends were talking animatedly about what they were planning to do after your high school graduation, you were unusually quiet next to Beomgyu as you filled out your application which quickly prompted him to ask if you were okay.

"What did you put in your program?" He had asked after, leaning his head on your shoulder only for you to cover the top half of your application with your hands. "Ya, I want to see!"

"No, it's embarrassing!" You protested, moving the form away from his peering eyes when his hand tries to reach for it. "You'll know later anyway if I pass Seoul University!"

"You mean 'when' you pass." He corrected, resting his chin on your shoulder this time before peering up at you. "And why are you embarrassed over your program? It's not the most embarrassing choice you've made in front of me."

"Ya!"

"So what is it?"

You leaned away from him and Beomgyu found it weirdly strange to be on eye-level with you while seated after he's suddenly grown almost a head taller than you over the summer. "I might...do a double degree on Painting and Sculpture."

"What's embarrassing about that? If anything, I'd be surprised if those two are nowhere near your top five options." He raised a brow almost instinctively. "Y/N, a double degree's impressive as hell!"

"It's just that..." You stumbled shyly over your words, scratching the nape of your neck. "I don't know, it's a shot in the dark. It's not like I'm that good like how you're great with your music."

"That's bullshit. You've always been talented and hardworking when it comes to your art. If anything, it's me who's always trying to catch up with you." He countered immediately, sitting up straight with a serious expression on his face. "And it's something you love and want to learn more of so why would it be embarrassing? Be confident and own your passions, Y/N."

"They might not actually see that if I don't do well in the exams and the portfolio I turn in. For all we know, I suck compared to other people."

"You literally just won a mural competition last summer." Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Admissions would be dumb to reject you."

Looking back on that memory almost four years ago, the revelation of what you really think of him makes Beomgyu's head spin that he had to quickly snap himself back to reality when you downed the last of your chocolate and mumbled how opening up was a mistake to yourself.

"I'm going to bed." You announced, rubbing your eyes tiredly and clutching your mug to your chest.

Before you could leave the table, however, Beomgyu quickly grabs onto your arm. "Wait, wait, no!"

"I'm tired as shit. You can rub my emotional comments on my face tomorrow morning."

"It's not that." Beomgyu frowned, tugging on your arm for you to sit down again. When you hesitantly follow along with him, he then continued, "It's just...is that why you tried hiding your application form from me back then?"

"I mean, I wasn't as confident in myself then as I am now and I had my other doubts about taking the program itself but...yeah, I guess." You shrugged slowly, looking everywhere but him. "I also thought that if I take both Painting and Sculpture, I have to make you proud no matter what."

On any other day, he would've teased you for it but he knew you'd probably smack his head on the table in that moment. So, instead, he held back on a smile and nudged you gently on the shoulder. "You make me proud no matter what you do." He assured. "And, if you must know, I also think highly of your opinion on my music...I guess we just show it in different ways.

"And if you're not ready to show me some of your new projects yet, it's okay. I can wait for all of them because I know they'll all turn out great."

You then looked up at him with raised brows. "Even if I make you wait until graduation for some of them?"

"I might ask Ryujin or Soobin to take photos of your progress for me if I have to wait that long." He joked, making you chuckle. "You know, the usual."

"Sure you will." You scoffed before picking up his mug on the table and standing up again. "Dude, come on, we really have to go to bed."

IV. WE KEEP SECRETS FROM EACH OTHER

It's not to say, however, that there aren't any instances when your roles are unwittingly reversed. Beomgyu also closes himself off from you and everyone else from time to time and you naturally end up being the nosy one banging on his door and demanding for him to at least let you know that he's eating well.

It's often when Beomgyu's stressed—when there's too much work to be done, especially in his music, or when he suddenly finds himself in a problem that he unusually doesn't share with you at the first encounter.

In these moments, you usually start noticing a week before he could even lock himself in his room and isolate himself from all of your friends. Especially since university began when you'd mostly meet in the day at lunch with your friends, he'd stop pestering you to elaborate more on a story you'd tell half-heartedly but he'll still hold your hand under the tables in front of all of your friends, squeezing it more often than usual out of anxiety.

And his smile never reaches his eyes when he's stressed, the same way his laugh would be quieter, an easy giveaway that he's going through something he's decided to keep on his own.

So as someone who's noticed his patterns over the years, you let him be at first, squeezing his hand back and initiating all the jokes in the group for him to finish with the punchline so he doesn't linger too much in his own thoughts.

Then when Hueningkai or Soobin do message you that Beomgyu hasn't left his room except to go to only half of his classes, you're quick to come up to his dorm with takeout and whatever project you're working on, knowing that what he really needs best in these moments is company.

There's times when Beomgyu acts extra bratty and doesn't let you in his personal space for a couple of days, a week at most like the time he was so stressed about Toto getting sick back in your Freshman year. It takes a lot of time out of your week and money from your weekly allowance buying him food but you wait patiently by his door anyway, catching up on your studies on the hallway floor if you're at the dorms or outside his room back in your neighborhood and occasionally knocking on his door to ensure that he's still alive.

But when he does let you in, opening the door just wide enough for you to see his bloodshot tired eyes and a blanket over his head, you take the initiative to open the door wider and hug him before anything else.

You almost never initiate skinship as much as you never share things until they're prodded out of you by Beomgyu, he knows that well so that's exactly what you do when you first see him in this state. All the time.

You don't speak until he lets you go and you're allowed to occupy his space with him. Back in your old neighborhood, you would put your things on his desk next to his own and work quietly until he decides to open up to you on his own accord.

Since college started, however, things have been slightly different in that once you're in the room, you'd sit on his bed first and let him hug you until he's ready to talk. If his roommate, Hueningkai, would be there at the end of the day, you'd throw a shoe at the younger boy and ask him to come back after dinner with the promise that you'd play Mario Kart with him the next weekend.

When Beomgyu's stressed, he likes it better when it's just the two of you, your exact opposite since you'd rather have all of your close friends with you on a hangout when you're in a similar state of mind.

The most stressed Beomgyu has been in college was when he was finishing the first official album for TXT, the band he formed with Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun, and Hueningkai in the summer before your freshman year. It was in the second semester of your junior year, when both of you were also preparing for internship applications on top of academics and the clubs piling one on top of each other that you sort of saw this coming as soon as you felt stressed out yourself.

Beomgyu only let you in his dorm room on your fifth day of camping out, crying out his frustrations on your shoulders for almost two hours that you had to change into one of his shirts after and ask Hueningkai to bring up a whole pitcher of water for your best friend to drink over dinner.

"I—I...I just...I can't! I can't finish the songs! I'm going insane!" He exclaimed on your shoulder, his cries muffled against you but you don't mind as you continue rubbing his back in circles and reminding him to breathe. "And...and nothing's been going my way these days! Not in my classes, not in the radio show or on the soccer team! I'm just...I'm just so out of it, Y/N!"

You hummed comfortingly, carefully moving both him and yourself so you're both sitting up properly once more. You then pointed to his open laptop and computer screens on the desk across the room with a small smile, "I can see your progress from here, though. You've been doing well. You're trying and getting things done, that's what matters."

"It's not all that good..."

You shook your head almost immediately, handing him another pack of tissues you've brought with you before discarding the used ones in the nearby trash bin. "Yes, it is! I've heard the drafts before you locked yourself up in here, they're all great." You retorted, tilting your head when he buries his face in the crook of your neck once more. "I think I like Thursday's Child Has Far To Go and Maze in the Mirror the most. They're very you.

"And about your classes and clubs, just take your time with them. Soobin and I e-mailed some of your profs already, Jeongin and Tae are handling the radio show well, and I'm sure Sunwoo and the rest of the soccer team would understand your absence for now.

"For now, just do what you want to do. Rest if you want to rest. If you want to focus on the band, then that's fine too. Everything will align themselves in time, just please don't forget to take care of yourself."

"And if they don't? Align themselves in time, I mean?"

His breathing was ragged then from all of the crying and his eyes the reddest and puffiest you've ever seen them. You figured from then on that you really hate seeing Beomgyu cry in frustration the most.

"They will, I promise. They always do with you." You replied without thinking, hesitantly patting his head and gently wiping his tears with your thumbs. "And you know I'll stay with you here until you're satisfied with your progress. Or at least for a couple of days because I have tons of presentations next week."

He sniffled a bit, spraying his hands with alcohol and adjusting the blanket wrapped around him. "W-What are you going to work on in a bit?"

You scoffed, already expecting that he'd ask. "I brought a project for my Sculpture II class, if that's okay. I also brought newspapers so I don't make a mess on the floor." You answered anyway, chuckling when his eyes immediately lit up. "You've been bugging me about it so I thought I can show you the my progress just this once to cheer you up."

And as if a light switch was turned, the glossiness previously in his eyes suddenly looked like sparkles as he sat up straight. "I could smother your face in kisses right now."

"Wipe that snot off of your nose first." You pretended to cringe when he dramatically opened his arms wide and puckered his lips. At that moment, you immediately knew that he was feeling a bit better, at least. "Geez, sometimes, I think you just sulk sometimes to get me to come here and show you my works early."

"I'm not that evil!" He pouted, taking the weighted blanket off of his back and getting off the bed. "Though, now that you've suggested it..."

A pillow then quickly landed on his face. "Choi Beomgyu!"

So you spent three nights at Beomgyu and Hueningkai's dorm room, working on a bust of Yeonjun (it's a long story involving you losing a bet to him at your last group hangout) on the floor while Beomgyu finished the final edits to TXT's songs. You then go back to your own dorm room before breakfast to freshen up for your class then come back again after your classes, often around 4 PM.

And when Beomgyu finally caught up with his classes and extra-curriculars, he surprised you with an invitation to TXT's surprise album launch over a month later.

Another thing about Beomgyu is that he's strangely great with surprises, preparing elaborate plans for occasions like your birthday, the holidays, or when he's bounced back from a difficult situation right under your nose.

Initially, the boys only told you that they'd release the album after finals week and play it at the year-end school festival, the first time they would be performing a full set of original songs. Though you, Yeji, Ryujin, and Yunjin insisted that they should do a proper album launch, all five of the boys just kept saying excuses or shifting the topic to something else.

On your last official school day for that semester, however, you suddenly received a notification from TXT's social medias about a surprise album launch at a cafe you frequent with all of your friends and a personal message from Beomgyu telling you to come over 30 minutes before the show.

So in retaliation, you made sure to stop over at the nearest flower shop with the girls and surprise Beomgyu with at least a congratulatory bouquet of roses, the same size as the one he gave you all of those years ago.

Said bouquet almost getting ruined when Beomgyu hugged you the moment you entered the cafe.

"You came!" He exclaimed giddily on your neck, almost toppling you to the ground as his arms encircled your waist. "You came! You came! You came!"

You scoffed, taking a moment to regain your footing as you rested your cheek against your best friend and carefully held the bouquet behind his head. "Of course I'd come. I'm your number one fan."

"Sure you are." He feigned a sniffle before tilting his head away to press a kiss to your cheek. "But still, thank you for coming. This means a lot to me."

"I know."

"You helped finished this album."

"I doubt that. I just worked with you in silence for three days straight."

He shook his head fervently, pulling away from you fully by then and leading you to the makeshift stage across the room. "You helped me refocus and get back on my feet so I can finish everything. I think you helped big time." He retorted before picking up his guitar from its stand. "Anyway, I have another surprise!"

"I only got you one." You feigned a frown while shaking the bouquet in your hands, making him chuckle before occupying the empty high stool next to him. "I'll have to get back at you again after this."

"You're already doing so much for me coming here tonight. And you bought me really expensive flowers!" He assured, strumming the guitar a few times. When you then opened your mouth to retort, he quickly interjected, "Anyway, I wrote this song for you! I'm still thinking if I want us to perform this later but I really just want to play it for you right now before anything."

So in the middle of that cafe, while your friends ran around preparing the decorations and doing soundchecks, Beomgyu sang his song, "Nap of a Star," with his guitar on his lap and his phone with the lyrics on the music stand.

"I can see even without you in front of me. I feel you, even without saying anything. Because I believe in you, even if I'm anxious

"I can touch even without you in front of my eyes. I reach even if you go far away from me. Just by remembering you, my heart always dances like before

"I want to become your nap and dream together always as if nothing happened. The evening sunset and the darkened night sky, my heart is full of you."

He occasionally giggled and fumbled on the guitar a bit everytime he glanced over in your general direction but he finished the song with you nearly in tears, something you instinctively hid by smacking him in the arm once the guitar was out of the way.

"You jerk! You wrote that for me? Are you sure?" You exclaimed, rapidly blinking back tears. "And I only got you flowers today! God, you're making me look like a bad friend!"

He rolled his eyes, getting down from the high stool and standing in front of you. With your own chair's height, you were easily at eye-level with him as he smiled at you. "I already told you, just coming over to hear us is already enough. Don't worry about it." He assured. "Anyway, what did you think of the song?"

"It's beautiful, of course." You scoffed half-heartedly, making him chuckle. "Was that night walk in the lyrics about—?"

"That night walk at the art fair? Yeah." He grinned shyly, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Once, in the 9th grade, you had a big fight with Beomgyu over Areum, at that point his ex-girlfriend. What you both do remember the most about it is how it happened on the week before a planned trip to an art fair in the busier district of Seoul that you were really excited about.

Though you were pretty sure that you weren't on speaking terms with him that time, he still showed up at the bus stop on the day itself, prompting you to apologize to each other before heading to the art fair together.

"You were crying like shit in public that we had to move to a more secluded area because people were looking. Then, you almost choked me to death with your hug." You recalled in confusion. "Not like I was any better but..."

"I put it in because I really thought our friendship was over then." He explained with a pout. "Then the first words we told each other when you saw me at the bus stop were apologies and...ah, it's very cheesy but I just think back to that time whenever I miss you. I think it's one of those moments I remember when I think of our bond."

You smack him again, this time directly on his chest, but the tears also flow freely this time. "God, you're so...you're so poetic and annoying! And you're making me cry!"

"I take that as a win." He laughed deeply as he hugged you, one hand rubbing your back soothingly while the other cupped your face and wiped your tears gently.

"How can you even say those things without crying? We've been friends for almost 16 years, damn it, Gyu." You mumbled in his plaid shirt, hugging him back. "I-I really love the song…”

"Years of practice on how to say it properly, actually." He joked half-heartedly, rubbing your back even more and mumbling to a passing Soobin something about the last preparations for the album launch. "That's why I do all the talking for us."

V. I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH

Your thesis for your Painting degree, you realize right before the Winter break this senior year, is the perfect surprise to get back at Beomgyu. While you've briefly mentioned that you'll have to take an extra year to complete your Sculpture degree's senior thesis, you're focusing on your Painting degree in your 4th year and have miraculously kept it under wraps from everyone including your best friend because everything's been hidden in your laptop and at the studios.

At the same time, it sort of fits. Though overall, most of the studies, actual finished works, and research you've done so far for your thesis are focused on human relationships overall, traces of Beomgyu have been slipping in here and there, reminding you that it's quite hard to paint anything about your friends or your first love without him.

He's in the series of studies you did of all of your friend groups, in a watercolor rendition of the faces you remember from your old neighborhood's playground, and even in a charcoal rendition of your favorite romance book characters as your thesis advisor suggested that you try and explore.

And he's in even more finished works and abandoned sketches way before that, some you unconvered in your old binders while researching for your thesis.

It could just be the extra hustle and bustle of your senior year, with you and all of your friends busier than ever as you work on your final year. Not to mention, you still have to prepare balancing a job at the university museum with your fifth year classes next year and Beomgyu's been busy putting out new music with TXT and discussing a junior producer position at an entertainment company.

But it's been almost a whole month since you last went to a proper lunch (one that isn't jut coffee and convenience store ramen) with any of your friends which is a whole record for you and Beomgyu, in particular. You're probably just missing the guy a bit too much these days that even just getting his daily cheer up messages has been messing with your thoughts all over again.

(Not that it doesn't mess you up on any normal day. It's just a tad bit extra now that you haven't seen his face around in a while)

So when you brought up to your thesis advisor the idea of painting a portrait of Beomgyu, the studies of which you would gift him for Christmas then remake as a proper oil painting for your thesis after the Winter break, there wasn't much of a complaint on her part.

Hell, you might even suspect that Prof Kim, a mentor whom you've also had in past studio classes, has been secretly rooting for you this whole time after years of always seeing Beomgyu randomly pop up around the department building.

"And what kind of relationship will a portrait of Choi Beomgyu represent in your exhibit?" She asked on Monday with a teasing glint in her eyes, a copy of your project research in her hands.

Your face heated up in an instant as you fumbled over your words, something you quickly excuse as a reaction related to the snow outside. "I—well...I'll figure that out later which I know is a cop out answer academically but I'll connect it to something in my RRL later, I promise!"

Prof Kim chuckled, closing her binder. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Personally, I think you already have it in your RRL and project proposal, you just need to make a more explicit mention of your friend in the paper moving forward since he'll be a subject in one of your finished works."

You nodded sheepishly, quickly gathering your things and standing up to bow at your advisor. "I'll e-mail you my progress again next week before the break!"

"No, no, it's okay! Just e-mail me after the holidays, I won't deduct grades or anything!"

A few days later, you're on the floor of your dorm room with Ryujin and Yeji cramming their own choreographies for their respective senior theses in another corner of the room while you finished your second study of Beomgyu, using your most recent photos as a reference.

The small 12x16 canvas you were working on sat comfortably on an equally small easel on your work desk, another canvas of the same dimensions drying by the windowsill next to a pile of old photos at the same time. Since your thesis would only require photos of your studies, you figured that you can give all of them to Beomgyu then make an extra oil painting of the two of you, knowing that he'd probably shy away (after making egotistical jokes, of course) if it's all just him.

"So what would the final painting be?" Ryujin suddenly asked as Yeji pauses the music for a five-minute break, approaching you as she drinks a bottle of cold water. "They're all so different."

You glanced over your shoulder and frown. "That's the thing, I'm not really sure how I want to paint him in the final work."

"Why?" Yeji asked this time, sitting cross-legged on a nearby mat.

You shrugged in response. "I don't know. Honestly, I thought if I do some studies, I'd get a clearer idea but I'm already three paintings in and I still have no plan of action for the one that actually counts to a grade." You sighed, turning your attention back to your unfinished painting.

"At least you have the Christmas gift ready!" Ryujin half-heartedly joked, sitting on an empty chair next to you. On your peripheral vision, you also caught Yeji nodding with a hopeful smile. "You don't have to paint the final work until after the break, anyway."

"Yeah, but it's the one that's going to be displayed at the exhibit at the end of the year." You pointed out matter-of-factly, carefully finishing the last layer of your painting. "And it has to be perfect."

"Maybe you can work something out over the break? You're going home to your neighborhood with Beomgyu and spending more time with him, anyway." Yeji suggested next. "Maybe then you'll have a clearer idea, hm?"

And Yeji was definitely right, as she always is, when you do go home to your old neighborhood with Beomgyu after the last official school day of the semester and find yourself hanging out in his childhood bedroom on the days leading up to Christmas much like the old days.

The idea comes to you on the afternoon of Christmas Eve almost two weeks later, when you invited yourself at the Choi's once more to listen to TXT's new songs and catch up with Toto. You sat cross-legged on Beomgyu's bed with your own earphones connected to his laptop and a live-sketch of the boy in his favorite green plaid shirt and freshly cut and dyed black hair on your lap.

Glancing over at him and seeing the way his eyes sparkled as you listened to "Way Home," it was a rather quick revelation to you that the best way to paint your best friend is in his most comfortable state. Just like this: when it's just the two of you drawing and listening to music, basking in the comfort of each other's company.

So you looked back at him again as the song transitioned to "Blue Hour," trying to take in as much of his features in that moment as much as you can. The faint sunlight coming in through the fogged up windows, Beomgyu's messy hair and skewed reading glasses, his hand propped up on his desk as he rested his cheek on his palm, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he worked only to consciously soften them when he looks at you, the way he talked animatedly about certain parts of the song with a boyish but proud grin on his lips.

Before you can even listen to the third song, you were already placing your hand on his upper arm and asking him to stay still for a moment.

"Why?" He asked, blinking twice while his hands go to pausing the song on his laptop anyway.

"I'm trying to memorize your face in this light." You answered absentmindedly, turning to a fresh page on your sketchbook and looking at him for a minute longer before removing your hand from him. "Okay."

"Okay?" He chuckled nervously. "What was that for? Are you going to send the mafia to kill me or something?"

You rolled your eyes, folding your knees closer to your chest to hide your sketchbook as you start anew. "It's a secret."

He then tried peering over your shoulder, moving the chair he was sitting on closer to the bed. "Are you drawing me?"

"Maybe." You teased with a smirk before pulling the sketchbook closer to your chest when he tried peering again. "Play the next song, Gyu."

Painting him in another solo portrait then on one of the two of you after that was relatively quick and easy as you finished your final gifts on Christmas Day while Beomgyu and his family went to a reunion out of town. While the last painting study, the one you'll render to a bigger canvas after the break, is him looking back at you fondly on that Christmas Eve afternoon, the additional painting of the two of you was from a candid photo Taehyun took when Beomgu played you Nap of a Star.

So now, here you are, in your room this time with the portraits gift-wrapped on the foot of your bed while your best friend handed you a late Christmas gift of his own.

"I was going to make it on my computer at first since everyone was sending in pictures on chats but then Yeonjun said that it might end up looking like the slideshows you have at funerals even with my superior editing skills." Beomgyu explained with a nervous chuckle as you unwrapped the gift, finding a thick scrapbook of all of your memories and mementos growing up. "Since everything else of you that I have—the pictures, the craft store receipts, Lotte World tickets, and everything—are all in boxes at home and at the dorms, I just thought I'd print the pictures I got from our friends and instead of scanning the things I already have then make it into a physical scrapbook.

"You did always say that you want to make one someday but we never really had the time so I thought I'd start it for you and, surprisingly, there are too many things in my own space that are yours or remind me of you."

You browse through the abnormally thick book in surprise and amusement, not even knowing that Beomgyu's kept even the simplest scraps of paper related to you after all these years. From the pictures his mom took of the two of you for every first day of school until the 12th grade to the candid photos he's taken of you over the years on his phone (regardless of how unflattering they are—you make sure to smack him in the arm everytime you come across one as you continue browsing) to notes you'd leave on his locker whenever he missed school and all the Christmas tags you've put on your previous gifts, it's the most detailed history of the two of you from when you met up until the present, complete with small captions handwritten by the boy himself.

So much so that you even linger on some of the pages you never thought you'd see, including the sketch you drew that day on the playground, the first note he passed you in class in the 1st grade, and a copy of the front page of the Science paper you crammed with him in the 6th grade.

"How did you even get some of these?" You ask, pointing to a photo of the two of you from your first Christmas together you somehow forgot existed. It was in the 1st grade when the Chois had to cancel going to their annual family reunion because of Mr. Choi's work so your families ended up watching the neighborhood fireworks display together. "I don't even think I have a copy of this!"

"That's from my mom! Also took her a long time to find on her phone." Beomgyu grins before turning to another page just full of flattened flowers, mostly daisies and roses. "And these are from all the bouquets you've bought me for recitals, graduations, and our first album launch! I kept at least one of everything because I wanted to use them in a project someday but I wasn't really sure what until I got the idea to make you a scrapbook."

"How did you even decide to give me a scrapbook for Christmas? And going through all the trouble of asking everyone we know for extra pictures? I thought you were busy with the band and your thesis?" You ask next, turning to the last page and finding a bunch of old letters and old invitations, the one from your senior prom standing out. By this point, it was hard to keep the stray tears at bay as you sniffle, making Beomgyu laugh before passing you tissues.

You went with all of your friends back then but you only danced alone with Beomgyu, somehow deluding yourself into thinking that he would confess and reciprocate your feelings.

But he never did, holding himself back from saying anymore in front of your house and simply kissing your forehead at the end of the night, and that was probably the only time you cried over the boy for that reason.

Beomgyu scratches his head and smiles sheepishly before slowly gesturing over to your wrapped gift for him. "A-Ah, well...Ryujin may or may not have mentioned something about you slaving away the past few weeks for your gift."

Your jaw slacks. "Are you serious?"

Before you could protest even more, however, Beomgyu's quick to raise his hands up in defense and interject, "Well, to be fair, I got the original idea of a simple scrapbook with everything I have way before Ryujin approached me! Then she mentioned sometime ago how hard you were working on my Christmas present that I had to up the stakes and ask for more pictures and stuff from everyone else after.

"And it wasn't that time consuming, actually! Everyone was happy to share photos and even some stories about you which I wrote in some of the entries because I thought it was sweet. Just...I want you to feel absolutely loved with this gift.

"And I mean, isn't it also nice seeing us from other people's point of view?" He points out next, flipping back to the pages mainly dedicated to photos of you and your mutual friends mixed in with photos they took of you. "It's also kind of a gift from everyone else in that sense."

You wipe another set of stray tears, making Beomgyu pout and reach a hand up to help you.

"Are you okay—?"

"I love it so much." You sniffle, smacking his arm before hugging the scrapbook to your chest. "Thank you, Gyu."

He heaves a sigh of relief, clutching his chest with his free hand. "There are still some blank pages towards the end. I figured you can put your own stuff in it if since I know you keep some things in the box under the bed." He suggests, patting the bed as if to gesture to the boxes you keep under it. "Or if you want, we can just fill it with new stuff later."

"Will you help me add in my own things?"

He nods with a bright smile. "We can do it before dinner with your parents." He then reaches towards the opposite end of the bed and picks up his gift, shaking it in front of him and asking next, "Should I open my gift in the meantime?"

"Yes, please. I can't be the only one crying right now." You nod with a chuckle, moving the scrapbook to your bedside table and helping him remove the tapes all over his gift.

"Before you make your usual complaint that it's too much, it's also actually part of my senior thesis for my Painting degree. Remember how I mentioned last time that I decided to make two separate theses for my programs? So, these are studies for one of my final paintings." You explain as the paintings come into view, Beomgyu's eyes widening and his jaw slacking in an instant.

"Woah..." He breathes, laying the canvases next to each other gently. “This is...this is amazing!"

"And there's one of the two of us. Look." You point at the last painting with a small smile. "The reference is from a photo Taehyun sent to our chat after the album launch."

"A-And...and where are the other portraits from?" He asks in a lower voice after a moment, eyes sparkling when he looks up at you again.

You gulp down any feelings of wanting to melt on the spot, pointing to each painting as you answer, "The first portrait's from a photo I took at your last gig, the second one's from last summer when we went to Haeundae beach, and the third one's from just the other day when you were letting me listen to your new music."

He points to the last one shyly, his cheeks flushed pink as the two of you look over at the painting of him listening to music on his headphones with a small smile on his face. "This was in my room?"

You nod, equally shy now that he's asking the questions upfront. "I-I just figured...you looked so warm and cozy then and that's always how I remember you so...yeah. That's also the one I'll be painting in the final work that's going in my thesis."

"Really?" His eyes widen even more, to which you simply nod once more before briefly looking away from him.

"Yeah, because my thesis is mostly on human relationships and, really, the rationale in all of these paintings is that I wanted to portray you as how you are in my eyes which is—"

Before you could even finish your thought, however, Beomgyu's oversized hoodie engulfs you and his lips land on your cheek. Then he gives you another peck, this time on a spot just slightly higher on the same cheek.

Then another, and another, before moving to another cheek. "You're amazing. I love you so much." He whispers against your skin dangerously close to your lips, almost as if he was telling you a very important secret.

And you know he means it differently than the other times he casually says it to you when he doesn't laugh excitedly between his words or jokingly force you to say it back as he would often do.

Instead, he punctuates the declaration by cupping your face gently and repeating the words again. "I love you so much. I love you the most." He sighs, meeting your gaze desperately.

And it's probably the years of knowing him that he doesn't have to elaborate on it further for you to catch on. At the same time, you feel a weight lift itself off of your shoulders at this, one that you haven't even realized you've been carrying along with you this whole time, hugging the boy back tighter with your arms on his waist in response.

“Can I?” He asks next, stroking your cheek with his thumb as his eyes momentarily flickers down to your lips.

You nod with a soft hum almost instantly, tilting your face as he closes the gap between your lips.

Beomgyu kisses you like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to do, his lips feeling comforting on top of yours as he conveys every built up feeling and all the kinds of love he’s had for you in the past 16 years and receives the same back from you.

And all negative thoughts you’ve had, worries that your best friend will never look at you the same way you’ve always hoped for him to, are immediately thrown off the window and replaced by the assurance that Choi Beomgyu, the nuisance who’s been affectionately stuck to your hip since day one, is in love with you.

"I love you." He repeats, voice muffled towards the end as he gives you another fleeting kiss before rubbing your noses together. "You know what I mean, right?"

"I love you too." You reply on your own accord, panting slightly as you fill your lungs in with air and biting your lip as you feel your face heat up after. "I outlined it out at the bottom of our painting too with my signature, in case you didn't spot it."

"Ya, I did." He chuckles sheepishly, briefly moving to sit away to put your paintings on the side of the bed. Before the space he previously occupied in front of you grows cold, his arms are back around you once more as he tackles you down on the bed. "I'll hang all of them in my dorm when we get back."

"You can't nail things to the walls then graduate. That's not how it works." You laugh with a shake of your head, encircling your arms on his neck as he props himself on his elbows on top of you. When he laughs along, something in your heart stirs happily at how the two of you could go from intimate to casual so smoothly, assuring you that nothing much is going to change—just now with more-than-friendly kisses and the assurance that your best friend feels the same about you. "Anyway, they're all small enough to go on your desk at the dorms and at the studio."

"Then I'll put them on my work desk at the studio. Everyone has to know I have a really talented partner."

"Partner?" You scoff teasingly against the sudden rapid beating of your heart, playfully pushing him away. "I'm your significant other now?"

"Didn't I make it clear enough with the kisses and the hug? Not even with the fact that I've been sticking by you my entire life?" He feigns a pout as he easily rolls the two of you over with you comfortably on top of him now. "Should we make out instead?"

Your face heats up more at the comment, eyes widening when he does press a longer kiss on your lips and even manages to open your mouth while you’re distracted. "That's also not how it works, Gyu!" You manage to successfully push him away and roll your eyes, hiding your face in his chest in embarrassment.

"Then will you be my significant other? I'll take care of you like I always have, just with more kisses! Maybe some other things too like just five seconds ago." He dramatically asks with a smirk, teasingly prying your hands away from your face. "What? You wanted me to ask!"

"What happened to having shit taste in people and dating each other being an insult, then?” You tease one last time, making him groan. "Or not liking anyone I like, hm? You’re kind of contradicting yourself here.”

"We’re contradicting ourselves. I think I know enough Math to know that negatives cancel each other out." He retorts before leaning down for another kiss and resting his head on your chest after.

"But you suck at Math.”

"Do you want help with the scrapbook or not?"

VI. (epilogue) MAYBE WE WORK A LITTLE TOO WELL

A big bouquet of red roses and sunflowers is dropped in your arms by Beomgyu for the second time in your life, purposeful this time as he follows it with a an extra daisy tucked in your ear and a kiss.

"Congratulations on the exhibit, baby!" He greets you giddily after with a grin and a soft pat on your head. "I’m so proud of you! You’ve worked so hard!”

"Ew, ew, ew, not in front of us, please." Hueningkai complains, hiding behind Yeonjun and Taehyun as you lead your friends around your thesis exhibit. “I’m a child!”

You roll your eyes, draping your free arm around Beomgyu's waist anyway as Ryujin and Yeji wander off to the portraits you made of your family while the boys approach your studies on your high school and college friends.

"I have another surprise, by the way!" Your boyfriend speaks up again, taking out his phone and placing an earphone on your left ear. "I may or may not have gotten the idea from that time you were finishing up your thesis in the studio."

"I'm fucking scared." You joke, adjusting the earphone anyway while he wears the right bud on his right ear. "What is this?"

From what you can remember of those all-nighters two weeks ago, you brought your remaining works in his studio to work with him in the same space. While Beomgyu was winding down from having just finished his own thesis and recording the demo for a new song, you were trying to work quietly in your own corner, alternating between singing TXT's old songs to yourself or mumbling about how you were going to present the written part of your thesis to Prof Kim.

You also remember making out on the studio sofa while you’re on break but you’re pretty sure (well, you’re hoping your boyfriend's not insane like that) that it’s not anything remotely related to that in particular.

Beomgyu then takes your hand, leading you to where Yeji and Ryujin are. "Let's start here. I followed your gallery's pamphlet but modified it a bit towards the end so we'll end up in the painting you made of us."

And when you do stop in front of the painting series, that of your family over the years, Beomgyu's pre-recorded voice rings through your ears.

"Hello and welcome to "Why We Work,” a senior thesis by artist and my beautiful, beautiful partner, Y/N Y/L/N." Beomgyu proudly announces in the recording, making you laugh out loud in an instant. Faint in the background, you can distinctly hear Maze in the Mirror's instrumentals playing. "Y/N, baby, are you tuning in? Congratulations on finally finishing your Painting thesis! I made you an audio guide!”

You smack the real Beomgyu on his arm as you try and regain your composure. "Ya, you brat! What is this?”

He only giggles in response, making a shushing gesture dramatically. "Shh, just continue listening in. I made it for the whole gallery."

You roll your eyes but tune in anyway, responding well to the commentary as you walk with Beomgyu and even discussing some of the works yourself live and more in-depth.

“This was really sweet of you.”

“It is sweet of me, you’re welcome.” He teases, earning him another smack on the arm.

taglist: @wccycc @4beomy

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you are cruel and you know what you’re doing to us!!!! now if this isn’t a little series like you said 😫 and low key i feel like mans is a bit of a player and this is how he picks up women. being all high and mighty fourth date bullshit timothee chalamets character in lady bird type beat. or he’s just furthering the hard to get plan 🤔 either way it’s hot and i will be reading anything you write

He’s obviously very intelligent in more than just a cookie-cutter textbook sense, seen in how he can talk philosophy and opinions all day, and she likes it because it’s interesting to pick at peoples’ brains, especially when that person is so well-versed and confident in their theories and outlooks. It makes him a little intimating, but she loves it because he stimulates her emotionally and in conversation, so she knows that they’re compatible in more than just physical attraction, and then him putting down the rule only makes her want him more because it’s a challenge.

But she’d probably bring it up at one point or another in a moment of insecurity. “Harry?”

“Mmhm?”

“Be honest with me for a second, will you?”

“If you insist.”

“Are you playing me? Like, are you just…using me?”

He’d go quiet for a second, and after a moment of contemplation and giving her the blankest look she’s ever seen on a human face, he’d burst into laughter. “If I wanted to fuck you and leave, I could have done that by now. I would have done it the night after the coffee shop, when you were practically begging for me to do just that.”

“True, but I can’t help but think—”

“Hemingway,” he sighs the nickname in a blasé tone (he’d started referring to her by famous authors the second he learned she was a literature student), and the action gives away that he seems tired with the conversation, “I could have slept with you and run the second we met, and would have lost absolutely nothing in the process. But I didn’t, and now here we are, walking along the pier eating ice cream while talking about the conspiracies involved with the Medici family. I could be with anyone else if I really wanted to, but I’m not, so that has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“Mm. Instead, I’m here with you, talking about murder and adultery while watching you deepthroat that cone like you’ve never tasted peach sherbet before, and I can tell you’re desperate to hold my hand but you’re too scared to reach for it because you think I might pull away.”

Y/N blinks at him in stunned silence. How is he so good are seeing right through her? “I—”

“Isn’t that right?” Harry prods, a smug simper working its way across his cream-smeared lips.

He walks beside her with slow, confident strides, one large hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks casually as the other rotates the waffle cone in his grasp, allowing him to lick his treat in uniform circles to avoid any spillage. His cardigan billows in the slight breeze fanning in from the beach, his eyes gleaming in the last rays of the setting sun as it sinks over the horizon, and it’s almost like the faint drops of amber around his pupils are absorbing the golden light as it cascades over the ocean.

He licks his cookie dough dessert off his rosy mouth, glimpsing at her expectantly over the rim of his blocky glasses with a kink in one of his brows. “Do you want to hold my hand, yes or no?”

“I don’t know if…if you—”

“Just answer the question.”

Yes.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be against it if you wanted to. But common sense tells me that if you wanted to, you would have done it already, and I can read between the lines enough to understand that—”

“Y/N.” Harry gives her a flat look.

“Yeah?”

“Just hold my fucking hand.”

“It’s in your pocket.” She mumbles dumbly, too overwhelmed to state anything other than the obvious.

Harry removes his hand from his trousers, offering it to her nonchalantly, almost as if he’s bored with this interaction. “Not anymore.”

Y/N’s eyes flicker between his outstretched palm and his indifferent expression, trying to decipher whether this is a trick or not. Harry has a weird habit of being unintentionally detached sometimes, which makes him difficult to read, and she’s struggling to do so now as she decides whether he’s doing this for her benefit or if he genuinely wants to be affectionate with her.

“Are you sure?”

Harry huffs roughly, rolling his eyes before reaching forward and snatching her palm from where it’s gripping her cone. The motion almost sends her ice cream rolling across the wooden deck, and it’s a good thing she’d had both hands around the base, or she would be sherbertless right about now.

She watches hollowly as Harry entangles his fingers between the cracks of her own, and the way their palms fit together perfectly sends an odd buzzing across the tips of her ears. He drums the pads of his digits across her knuckles distractedly as he finishes sifting their hands together snugly, giving her a soft squeeze for good measure.

He holds up the intertwined pair, shaking them for emphasis as he cracks an airy grin in her direction. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No.” She whispers quietly, staving off a smitten smile in order to spare her dignity, hiding her lips behind the mountain of ice cream in her possession. “It wasn’t.”

“Your hands are warm, but not sweaty, which is good. I would have dropped it if it was.” He comments, only half-joking as he allows their joined fingers to plop back down against his thigh.

He begins swinging the duo back and forth lightly as they walk, returning his gaze towards the end of the pier, surveying a group of friends as they play volleyball in a nearby court. “That shit irks me.”

“Volleyball?”

“Sweaty hands.”

“Understandable.”

“Not yours, though. They’re soft.”

“Thanks.”

“Aren’t you gonna compliment me back?”

“Yours are soft, too. Happy now?”

“Just peachy.”

Y/N snorts at his pun, which is a nod towards the flavor of the sorbet she’s eating, and any nerves she’d been wrestling earlier ebb away until there’s nearly nothing left. “Nice one.”

“I’ll be here all week, folks!”

The two giggle at his stupid Bugs Bunny impression, and Y/N doesn’t know if Harry notices, but she can feel his thumb start to rub tenderly across her knuckles. She doesn’t bring it up for fear that it might stop, but she definitely jots it down in the mental notepad she keeps in relation to him, which she stashes away deep in her subconscious.

Public displays of affection is a yes. Hand-holding is a yes. Sweaty hands is a no. She vaguely wonders if he makes an exception during sex.

After a moment of comfortable emptiness and a few more laps at his dessert, Harry speaks up once more, his accent delicate and fond as he addresses her, his face neutral but slightly wistful. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I wanted to.”

Her brows furrow in confusion at his random remark. “Wanted to what?”

“I wanted to hold your hand.”

[skellebonez]

Hmmm how about MK and Monkie King with number 1 and number 45

I wanted to write a follow up to a certain fill that got some wonderful art recently too! But then the finale happened and now I made it depressing, sorry. Spoilers for... everything as this is set 3 days after the final episode. This also plays around with the “Sun Wukong is still super immortal and powerful but...” and other theories. (second prompt line is only used as inspiration in fill)

Do not give me that look./ You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

The moment MK's curse was lifted and he was re-aged from 4 years old to adult Wukong acted like nothing had happened at all. No understanding conversations about how his powers could hurt him, no cooking together, no video games, and no accidental couch naps. It was as if the entire day had been undone to the sands of time.

But MK remembered and when the literal next day Wukong announced he was going on vacation... let's just say he was not happy in the slightest. He had tried to voice his objections, citing the Spider Queen as a prime example for why they should be worried, but the immortal monkey just flashed him dual thumbs up with a “Monkey King Out!” and flashed off somewhere MK couldn’t follow.

And now he was back and while MK had been more than happy to get going at first, to push everything that happened deep down inside him and ignore it for as long as possible (why was he doing that, he needed to stop doing that, look where that got them he was a mistake a bad choice as a successor and now he’s barely a successor at all) there was only so long he could go before it became clear there was more wrong than what Sun Wukong was telling him.

There was more wrong with Sun Wukong himself that he refused to admit.

He tried to hide it as well as he could. Despite the heat outside and the fur covering his body he still wore full body clothing. Hiding away the gashes and healing scars that riddled his form now. There was a nick in his eyebrow that had never gone away, and when MK watched closely he could see his mentor sometimes place his hand too far to the left when grabbing something. He walked with a slight limp, though that had improved over the last few days.

And he was quiet. Yes, when someone was addressing him he was “yeah totally, we got this fam, onward westward!”, but when MK caught him alone... especially outside on the deck of the drone, watching the horizon, he was more quiet and still than the Monkie Kid had ever seen him before.

Or maybe he was always like this and now Wukong was too hurt or distracted enough or just didn’t care anymore that MK was finally seeing him.

It was hard to tell with how distant he had been the last three days. Distant in the same way the day after the curse was lifted, but quieter.

“We need to talk,” He said from behind his mentor, watching as Wukong’s tail jumped only a little. Maybe that was just surprise at the words themselves. “Alone. Please.”

He expected Wukong to brush him off, to say “aw bud, can’t it wait? look at the sunset!” despite the sun having set so far they barely had any light left or something else. But instead he straightened up (MK heard the slight crack of his back again, much softer than when he had first heard it after their crash landing, and he wondered how much his back had healed from whatever injury it had) and turned to his student with an odd expression. Somewhat soft and fond and somewhat worried and resigned. Like this was more than just 3 days coming (and it was).

“Let’s... get something to eat first, alright?”

MK didn’t mention that they had eaten just over an hour ago.

~

They sat in the kitchen of the drone, alone under the dimmed lights with cups of tea and sliced fruit between them (mostly for Wukong). Neither had said anything as they prepared the small snack, and neither said anything as they sat down and took sips of their tea.

MK had made it slightly too strong.

“What did you want to ask first?” Wukong started off, picking up a peach slice and biting into it carefully. Slowly. This was something else that was noticed. Before when eating the Monkey King would just shove whatever he was eating in his mouth and MK wasn't certain he tasted it. But now it was like he was trying to make every meal last as long as possible. “There’s... a lot. I can tell.”

“We spent an entire day together and then you left without telling me anything,” MK said firmly, gripping the tea cup in his hands. He squeezed harder, just to see what would happen. It should have shattered... it didn’t. “Why didn’t you just... say something?”

“... I thought I was protecting you,” Wukong admitted honestly, taking another bite of peach. “And the city, the others...  That if I acted distant you wouldn’t wonder where I went a-”

“Wouldn’t wonder wh- no!” MK interrupted, gritting his teeth. “No, Monkey K- Wukong.” The change in how MK addressed him made Wukong jolt, looking at him with wide eyes. He had never called him by his name before now. “We spent an entire day together. You took care of me, helped me when my powers went haywire, helped me make food! You never treated me like that before! You treated me like... Like I was...”

“My kid,” Wukong finished for him, now looking down into his tea cup. “MK... You’re an adult, I know that, but somewhere down the line I started to think of you as... I didn’t know till then I guess, and that terrified me. The idea of you getting hurt that day was the only thing that compared to admitting I got attached to you as more than just my student.”

Had this revelation come sooner MK might have been more surprised. More disbelieving. But after that day and everything that happened once the curse was gone...

“... you have a funny way of showing it,” MK snapped without thinking, eyes widening and jolting upright when he realized what he had said. “I-”

“Don’t,” Wukong said with a shake of his head, sipping his tea with a sigh. “You deserve to be angry with me. I talked to, uh... Pigsy? Sandy too. Tang.... Mei. Your boss in particular laid into me pretty hard after the excitement died down... Don’t know how I went 1000 years without knowing what a ‘lie by omission’ was.”

“... you abandoned me.”

“Yes... I didn’t mean it that way, but that doesn’t change that I did.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“NO.” Wukong said firmly, voice raised for the first time in days. MK glowered at him. “No, that is one thing I will not back down on. Yes, I lied to you and left you behind and that was a mistake I will need to make up for over a long time, but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. I trusted you to take care of yourself, to teach yourself the lessons I left behind, and take care of the city. And you did! You did so much better than I even hoped for, and I hoped so badly that you would do as well as you did! I didn’t leave you there because I didn’t trust you, I left you there because I did... and because I thought I had to do everything myself...” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “I’ve been alone so long... I forgot I could do things with help on my end, I guess...”

“If... If Lady Bone Demon hadn’t finished what she was doing...?”

“Had the Lady Bone Demon not been working faster than I thought she was I would have come back with nothing less than even more trust in you as my successor.”

“... am I even still your successor without...?” MK trailed off, trying to keep his voice level. The tea cup still held strong.

“Yes,” Wukong assured, reaching out to put a hand on MK’s shoulder. MK noticed how he almost missed and corrected his hand. “The staff and my powers alone didn’t make you my successor. I picked you before those, remember? You’re still the Monkie Kid, MK. Nothing is going to change that for me.”

The young man went quiet for a moment, taking a shaky breath. He wanted to ask why he was chosen, what made him so special... but there would be time for that in the future. For now he had gotten at least some of his questions answered. But there was something much more pressing to touch on.

“,,, you’ve been lying to all of us,” he accused suddenly, reaching up and grabbing the wrist of Wukong’s hand on his shoulder before he could pull back. He looked his mentor in the face, watching as Wukong’s eyes widened in realization and horror. “Do not give me that look. Stop... please, stop lying. I’m not stupid, I can see you’re still hurt bad. You’re supposed to be invincible but you came back hurt and... and almost nothing can hurt you!”

Wukong didn’t meet MK’s gaze, looking down at their snack as he breathed heavily and shakily. He knew he was caught, that much was obvious.

“Please... talk to me, for once. I know I do the same thing, I lied to everyone else by not telling them about LBD or the calabash or Macaque coming back-” Wukong tensed at that, an odd sound escaping his throat. “-and look where it got us. We both need to talk. To everyone else. To each other.”

Wukong’s arm was shaking where MK held it, but he didn’t try to pull it back. Not until MK let it go. He sat back down, looking at the table like it held all the secrets of the universe before bringing his hand up to cover his eye. The one with the nicked eyebrow.

“Bud...” Wukong started, biting his lip. There was something wrong in his tone. “I... you were going to find out eventually. I can’t keep this up forever, not like Macaque can.” MK tensed at the mention of the other immortal monkey, watching as Wukong did not move his hand. “This takes a lot of focus. And... with my invincibility partly gone-”

“What?” MK asked, so soft he thought Wukong hadn’t heard him.

“... You didn’t get my powers from the staff, MK,” Wukong said. “And they don’t just duplicate. That’s not how they work. From day one I have been... siphoning my powers to you. Bit by bit. As you got better at controlling them I would give you more until I felt I didn’t need them myself anymore. When I locked away your invincibility I just undid what I had given you and slowed down the transfer... you’d been half invincible for weeks.”

“No...” MK started, slowly realizing what Wukong was implying. “No, no you’re lying again! This is a terrible, horrible prank!” Despite wanting to be quiet before MK found himself yelling. “Say you’re still lying!”

“No,” Wukong shook his head, looking down at the scar on his arm that was now visible as his sleeve had slipped down. “Most of this will probably heal eventually, except maybe one thing, and I’m still immortal! There’s no undoing that no matter what I do. I’m not dying any time soon. But my transformations? Cloning? My cloud...” He trailed off at that, breaking in a shaky breath. “You didn’t even get to use that... Lady Bone Demon took all of it when she took it from you. I still have some powers, some of my transformations and hair stuff and some invincibility... but I’m not the same overpowered Monkey King you met when you freed DBK...”

And as he trailed off, Wukong lowered his hand. Something flickered, something familiar. Too familiar. Reminiscent of Macaque’s shadows but brighter. And after there was something else reminiscent. In reverse.

MK had only seen it for a split second, when all of Macaque’s glamor magic had dropped. The milky white right eye and the scar over it that was left behind from his battle with Wukong 500 years ago.

And now Wukong looked at him with a similarly white left eye, a similar scar that wasn’t just a nicked eyebrow running down his face.

It makes sense in retrospect, much more. MK supposed that when you lose an eye you lose depth perception and it takes a while to get used to judging where things are.

“... what happened before you came in to save me?” MK asked quietly, watching as more of the glamor fell with a curse from Wukong. There was another nick on his cheek that was still healing, a piece of one of his ears had been ripped off too. No doubt there were more injuries under his clothes that Wukong hadn’t let anyone see.

“She has Macaque under her control,” Wukong said plainly, groaning as he held his head. “Damn, that... letting that down...” He groaned again and before MK could realize what was happening Wukong’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped from his chair to the floor.

“WUKONG!” MK shot up, rushing over to his side and yelling over his shoulder in the hopes someone would hear. “Pigsy! D-DADSY! Help, SOMETHING’S WRONG!”

When Pigsy rushed in with the others in tow Wukong hadn't regained consciousness.

[jikookuntold]

Jungkook and His Cover Songs: Is “10000 Hours” about Jimin?

Disclaimer: The following post includes theories, lyric and numeric analysis, plus my personal opinions, so please don’t take anything seriously. I’m too lazy to upload photos and videos for the moments I mentioned here, but I’m sure you know about them all. Any Jikooker must know. And I’m not Korean or a Korean culture expert, I just know as much as any Stan Twitter ARMY knows about their culture.

Anyone?

Maybe one of the biggest Jikook moments of 2021 so far, is where Jimin jumped into Jungkook’s hug, in Lee Hyun’s Vlog. But the other moment on that Vlog was even more significant; Jungkook was singing “Anyone” from Justin Bieber’s new album, and Jimin was harmonizing with him while holding on his shirt. I don’t want to mention their interview moment singing “Peaches” because I know this song is super popular in South Korea right now and somehow it doesn’t count as a moment. But it’s safe to say that Jikook has something special with his songs, and JK in particular always was invested in him. 

JK & JB

The reason behind Jungkook’s devotion to Justin Bieber was always a big question for me, and I got my answer not long time ago. Jungkook’s playlist for Melon Radio Station included a song from JB’s new album named “Lonely”. This is one of the most personal songs any artist can ever make, and JK recommended it to his audience. Here are the lyrics of “Lonely” by Justin Bieber:

Everybody knows my name now

But somethin' 'bout it still feels strange

Like lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself

And seein' somebody else

And everything is not the same now

It feels like all our lives have changed

Maybe when I'm older, it'll all calm down

But it's killin' me now

What if you had it all, but nobody to call?

Maybe then you'd know me

'Cause I've had everything

But no one's listening

And that's just lonely

I'm so lonely, lonely

Everybody knows my past now

Like my house was always made of glass

And maybe that's the price you pay

For the money and fame at an early age

And everybody saw me sick

And it felt like no one gave

They criticized the things I did as an idiot kid

What if you had it all, but nobody to call?

Maybe then you'd know me

'Cause I've had everything

But no one's listening

And that's just lonely

These lyrics made me think of one specific thing, the thing that JK and JB have in common: They started their careers at a very young age, and their lives have been under the scrutiny of so many people. These people judged and criticized them but never tried to understand them. The lyrics are straightforward and leave no place for interpretation. By recommending this song, JK showed that he had (and probably still has) the same experiences in his life, and I think the reason he recommends or covers JB’s songs more than any other artist is that he has many things in common with him, and feels connected to his songs. 

This can lead us to another theory: By covering a Justin Bieber song, Jungkook shares something about himself with us, something that he can’t express directly.

Jungkook is interested in JB’s songs, but he is not the only one. As I said earlier in this post, Jimin shares the same taste with Jungkook, and my receipt is not just that “Anyone” or “Peaches” harmonizing moments, but also Jimin’s Spotify playlists. Since 2017 (or earlier, I’m not sure about this part) he has added some JB songs to his official playlist, and even his current playlist (July 2021) has two JB songs. And also let’s not forget the fact that Jikook as a subunit started in 2014 with a JB cover. Yes, I’m talking about “Mistletoe” and as you may know, Jimin translated the lyrics of this song to Korean. 

10000 Hours

Nearly 700 words and I haven’t started yet! The subject of this post was supposed to be the connections between “10000 hours” cover and Jikook but this prelude was necessary to clarify all the aspects of the topic and we find out how JB is special for JK and Jimin and how they (especially Jungkook) feel connected to him. Anyways, back to 10000 hours:

Dan + Shay and Justin Bieber released this Grammy winner song in October 2019. Here are the lyrics: 

Do you love the rain, does it make you dance

When you're drunk with your friends at a party

What's your favorite song, does it make you smile

Do you think of me?

When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'?

Everything, I wanna know it all

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

Do you miss the road that you grew up on?

Did you get your middle name from your grandma?

When you think about your forever now, do you think of me?

When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'?

Everything, I wanna know it all

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

Ooh, want the good and the bad and everything in between

Ooh, gotta cure my curiosity

Ooh, yeah

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that

Sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

And I'm gonna love you

As you can see, the lyrics are 100% romantic, and the singers including JB, have dedicated this song to their lovers. Also, their girlfriends/wives have a cameo in the MV, which leaves no place for speculation for the context of the song: Even though the uncertainties always exist and no one knows about the future, our love is strong and will stay strong regardless of time. 

The Cover and the Theories

Nearly one year later, on July 28th, 2020, Jungkook surprised ARMYs with a short video he tweeted at 11:56 AM. That video was a 49 seconds cover of 10000 hours. A few minutes later, he deleted the tweet (apparently with the advertisement excuses, because it was tweeted from an iPhone and they have a contract with Samsung). Later that night, Jungkook released the full version on Sound Cloud and tweeted the link at 11:47 PM. 

Jikookers discovered numerous theories that day about the times of both tweets; if you add the digits of the time, the result is “13” for both tweets 1+1+4+7=13, 1+1+5+6=13, and as you already know “13” is Jikook’s magic number. Also, the first video he tweeted was 49 seconds and 4+9=13. But in my opinion, this theory is not strong. I know that numerology is very popular in Korean culture but still, all of this can be coincidences, but the other things I’m going to bring up are most likely not. 

28th July 2020 was the 7th anniversary of the first Jikook selca posted after debut. This also might be a coincidence and to be honest, it cannot be a strong link to make a connection with Jikook, but worths sharing. 

The next thing that many Jikookers also pointed out, was related to the title of the song. The lyrics say “10000 hours and 10000 more” and 20000 hours after the 28th of July is 8th November 2022. As you may know. Jikookers believe November 8th is a significant date for Jikook. I believe this can be a coincidence either, and it’s very unlikely of Jungkook to do such calculations (Koreans are interested in numbers when it comes to days and dates, but counting hours is not usual in any culture. Other than that, I’m still doubtful about the origins of the November 8th theory because we have nothing other than two tweets and G.C.F Tokyo release date and their hotel room in Tokyo which still can be coincidental). But I don’t deny these theories because even as a coincidence, it’s still very interesting. 

And the next theory is connected to the “Red Moon”. On 27th July 2018, a total lunar eclipse happened all over the world, which became known as the red moon. At that time, BTS were in Malta, and on the same night, Jikook were watching the red moon on a boat. They shared plenty of photos and videos of that moment and I’m sure as a Jikooker you have seen them all and you know that night had a very romantic mood (BigHit words, not mine) for Jikook. So, a second anniversary for that night and the day after that night can be a significant date to release a very romantic cover. Is this a coincidence too? I think we had many of them already.

And last but not least is something connected to Korean culture. You probably know that 1000 days anniversaries are very important for Koreans and they celebrate them along with real anniversaries of the important dates in their lives. And guess what? 27th July 2020 is 1000 days after 31 October 2017. This day is the day Jikook’s travel to Tokyo ended and they posted their couply mirror selca on Twitter with flower bouquet emoji. Despite the one-day difference (the same case for the red moon anniversary), this is not a minor event or small coincidence. I believe Jungkook posted “10000 hour” cover for this reason and based on this, the other theories I mentioned earlier can be true either. 

The lyrics hit different if you read them again, after knowing this fact. Right? I don’t want to make this post much longer but before wrapping up, I want to talk about the lyrics of “Anyone” by JB (the song Jikook were harmonizing in Lee Hyun’s Vlog):

Dance with me under the diamonds

See me like breath in the cold

Sleep with me here in the silence

Come kiss me, silver and gold

You say that I won't lose you

But you can't predict the future

So, just hold on like you will never let go

Yeah, if you ever move on without me

I need to make sure you know that

You are the only one I'll ever love

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (ever done)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone (anyone)

Not anyone

Forever's not enough time to (oh)

Love you the way that I want (love you the way that I want)

'Cause every morning I find you (oh)

I fear the day that I don't

You say that I won't lose you

But you can't predict the future

'Cause certain things are out of our control

Yeah, if you ever move on without me

I need to make sure you know that

You are the only one I'll ever love

Only one (I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (I've ever done)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

It's not anyone, not anyone

Oh, oh, oh, oh

If it's not you, it's not anyone

Oh, oh, oh, yeah, whoa

Yeah, you are the only one I'll ever love

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya) gotta tell ya

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (ever done, oh, yeah)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

If you read the lyrics, you will notice that the context is very similar to “10000 hours”. It talks about the uncertainties of a beautiful love or in other words: No matter what the future brings to us, this love will last forever. 

This context of uncertainty and unknown future for a romance is a common concept in many of the songs Jungkook has covered and it’s not limited to the Justin Bieber covers he has done and maybe this concept can be the topic for my next analysis. 

[hognosesnakehalloweenfest]

Oct 2: Returning Home

By Meridies (meridies on ao3) CW: (Non-Explicit) sexual content, referenced death, drowning, suicide mention (breif), alcohol mention Sarah and I sat down for drinks on the second day of fall. The tavern was quiet, but the darkness was loud. I was drinking a beer, a man’s drink. Sarah had fruit juice in front of her. She had asked for something with no alcohol.

“I’m trying to be sober,” she explained. “I spent four weeks in rehab this summer, you know.”

I felt bad, then, for asking her out for drinks, but we hadn’t seen each other in months. I set my beer down and asked her how she was doing.

“Better. I think getting clean was good for me— I’m working at the library downtown now. And I’m seeing someone.”

“Who?”

A syrupy smile. “Charlie. You remember Charlie Davenport?”

I couldn’t remember a thing about Charlie Davenport, but Sarah was enthralled, so I asked, “Is he nice?”

“I think he wants to sleep with me,” she said. “We went swimming down by Craig’s Point last week, and he…”

But I stopped listening. Craig’s Point was the lake by the quarry. Someone had drowned there last year, and it was the town’s biggest scandal for a week until Elsie Bates was caught slipping out of William Hogg’s house in a little lacy thing during the dead of night. But the kid— Frank— was still dead, long after the town had forgotten about him.

I interrupted her. “I thought the lake was still closed off?”

“He pressured me into skinny dipping.” Sarah hadn’t heard me. “I thought I was going to sleep with him, but I’ll see him next week, so maybe…”

I remembered watching the boats haul hooks through the water until they dragged up Frank’s body. He was bloated and stiff. I wanted to feel what his skin felt like after it had absorbed all that water, but I never got close. No one touched him except for the paramedics, who told us all to back away.

Sarah waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello? Anyone home?”

“Someone died in that lake,” I said, “You shouldn’t have gone swimming there.”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t really give a damn.”

Well, I did. “It’s disrespectful to his memory.”

Frank had been in my algebra class in sophomore year, a burly guy with shoulders like logs and eyes set into his face like whorls of wood. The night after his death was announced, I had stared at my ceiling in darkness and thought about how much water he must have drunk before he died. He must have been drunk on it.

“They say he killed himself,” Sarah said nonchalantly.

The thought made me nauseous. “Maybe he fell.”

“Rough way to go.” She sipped at the dregs of her drink. “See, this is the problem with staying in one place— you’re so obsessed with history. You need to learn how to let things go.”

I wondered why Sarah refused to admit to the power of the water. She had to know it, better than anyone.

Sarah grew tired of my moping and hauled me up by the arm, muttering something about history under her breath. “Exposure therapy,” she said, “We’re going swimming.”

I could hear the lapping of the lake before I saw it through the sparse trees, black as ink. The horizon stretched and faded into night mist. Sarah stripped her shoes, her jacket from her skin, and looked back at me.

“Valerie,” she said, voice a knife’s edge, “You’re not really scared, are you?”

I pulled my sweater off, unhooked my bra, and slid down my pants. Sarah was half naked, gooseflesh rising. I could see the paleness of her chest beneath the distorted water.

“Giardia,” I blurted. “Legionnaires Disease.”

“Conspiracy theories,” she teased. “Come under with me.”

I kept my mouth closed underwater. I could feel the water sliding fingers up my legs, to my thighs, to the quiet spaces inside me that had a breath of their own. Sarah struck out from the shore. She was grinning, hair damp. I took a deep breath and plunged beside her.

-

Two nights later I found myself with Eli, an acquaintance from many years ago who had just returned from the Peace Corps in Ukraine. We had no reason to see each other except for sex, which we had in his bed, his kitchen counter, and then on the creased sofa in front of the television. He looked up at me and said baby, you’re so good, you’re so good for me, and I thought, all men are the same.

I finished washing up in the bathroom. We drank beers together in silence while watching a sordid American drama, and then it was time to leave. No, thank you, I will drive myself home. Yes, I’m fine. I’ll see you later, I will, I promise.

I could feel the places Eli had touched me, his hands and fingers moving inside of my body. Something deep and lonely inside me ached as I drove, and without realizing, I found myself taking the left turn when the right led home— taking me to the waterside. The thing that breathed and pulsed had no voice, so I spoke for it.

“Is anyone there?”

The quarry remained silent.

“Give me a sign,” I said. “I’ll return if you do.”

Sarah told me I was obsessed with history, that I needed to learn how to let things go. But I felt my body responding to the water the same way it had responded with Eli. I thought that Frank was the first and last good man I had ever slept with, and I owed him something I could never give.

After his body was found, his parents had moved out of town. But I heard them speak about the incident only once. He was a sweet boy. Bring him home. Bring him home to us. Their house now stood empty at the corner of Fletcher Avenue and Second Street.

That night I thought about Frank, the blue of his lips. I tasted the quarry water in my teeth, felt Eli’s palms in between my legs. Baby, you’re so good. So good for me.

-

Frank died three summers ago; that was the summer I first had sex with a woman, her tongue underneath mine, in the bathhouse of the community pool. I slept around after Charlotte left for college. I tasted more tongues, more women, and naturally, I tasted more men.

“A girl is supposed to sleep around,” Sarah reassured me, after the first pregnancy scare. “Stick with women if you’re so concerned.”

Before looking at the result of the pregnancy test, I stared at myself in the mirror and thought about what I would name the unborn thing in my stomach. It would have been the size of a cherry at that point, and I was embarrassed to admit that I did not know who would have fathered it. But the test was negative, and I felt a sick, swooping sense of relief.

Autumn swelled and ripened into full bloom after I slept with Eli, and cold weather encroached upon the edges of town. The first rainfall happened. I cracked my windows open to breathe the sweet, thick air into my lungs. Water slipped inside my home with slim fingers, running in rivulets down my walls. When the storm ended, I saw the marks it left behind, white against dark dust.

And I dreamed about him, the night after the rainfall vanished.

He was rising, dripping, from the lake. Leathery and stiff and slick with black slime, more viscous than oil. Gills opened and closed at his neck. They were at the spot where I had wanted to be kissed once, before any man or woman had touched me. Frank stood, staring at me with filmy eyes. I stared back in silence.

He wanted something, I realized. This was the sign I had asked for a week ago. What he wanted was for me to return.

-

I did not tell Sarah about the afternoons I spent at the lakeside of Craig’s Point during the long month of October. Besides, she and Charlie Davenport were together more often than not. I heard about her comings and goings from other people. Eli asked to see me again; I did not answer.

I thought about Frank the more I was at the lake. We had never been particularly close; he knew my name, and I knew he was good at algebra. But he had gotten to know my body in a way no one else had— intimately, viscerally. It was the week before his body was found. He had grabbed my arm as school let out and said one word: please.

I was young, but I understood what he was asking for. I was only slightly ashamed to say that I had no qualms. He was inexperienced, and so was I, both messy and complicated. But he was a good man.

I still thought about that please from time to time. What he was really asking for, and what I had failed to give. Please, please, please.

As the sun was setting that evening, I heard a squeaking in the woods. It was high-pitched, and I followed the sound to its source. I nearly stepped right on it. Someone had skinned a squirrel alive and pinned it to the ground. The thing was still writhing. I stared half in awe, half in disgust at the twitching, red-white sinew which never should have seen sunlight.

It would have been kind to kill it, but all I could do was stare in sick misery and slowly back away. When I was by the lakeshore, I could not hear its sounds anymore. All I could hear was the water.

“Did you do that?” I asked out loud. No one responded, but I imagined that I heard Frank’s voice. Please.

“There are better ways to get my attention.” The water slithered towards me, mouth open and hungry. “I keep returning, like I said I would.”

I imagined him then beneath the surface of the water, eyelids slitted and covered with a thin film. He might have blinked at me; he might have reached a hand out to touch my skin. He might have wrapped a hand around my ankle, tugged until I followed him into the depths.

The sky was smeared with orange. When I went back to my car, the squirrel had gone silent.

-

Sarah wanted to have drinks with me again another night. This time she had ordered something with alcohol, peach schnapps and fruit juice. She didn’t seem concerned by the slip-up.

“Charlie and I had sex,” she proclaimed, “I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages. Where have you been?”

“Thinking,” I answered.

She reached out. “Where have you been for the last week? I went to your house but you weren’t there. It isn’t smart to leave all your windows open, you know.”

“I’ve been at the lake.” Before her expression had the chance to shift, I blurted, “Sarah, do you believe in ghosts?”

Her hand tightened around the glass. She set it down slowly, tenderly. “No,” she said, but it was a reflexive response. “I thought I saw one once, but I’ve never seen anything else like it, and I know I’ll never see him again.”

“Tell me.”

“I saw him the night I went to the hospital,” she began. “I was half dead, dying on the floor. But I opened my eyes to see a man standing over me. His skin was blacker than ink, and his eyes were white spots inside his head. I knew at once that he was death, and he was going to take me with him. He put his hand right here, right on my shoulder, and the other hand at my waist. He touched me— everywhere. And we danced, while I was dying.” Sarah turned and faced me. “I woke up in the hospital and asked about him, but no one had ever seen someone like that, and the doctor said that I must have hallucinated. But it was real. Realer than anything I’ll ever know.”

Then she laughed, high and bitter. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me. No one ever does.”

And at once, I wanted to ask her about who she really was, beneath it all. Beneath Charlie Davenport’s touch and his pick-up truck and the layers of skin she put on each day. Beneath the alcoholic drinks and the man who had danced with her while she drank herself to death and that cold, frightened look in her eyes. I wanted to peel back her skin, to see the ugly, squirming parts of her that curled away from sunlight.

“I believe you,” I said. Something in my voice must have made her believe me, too.

She rolled her glass around beneath the yellow tavern lights. “I wonder if I’ll see him the next time I’m close to death.”

“Sarah,” I said uneasily, “You should stop drinking.”

“I will,” she said, “I know I’ve got to. It’s the poison, you see. I’ve got to bleed the poison out.”

“Sarah, you’re not making any sense.”

“You and history,” she said dizzily, “You and your fear. You’ll be stuck with it forever unless you suck the venom out. I’ve got to bleed the poison from my veins. And you need to cut the rotten flesh out to heal the rest.”

-

Frank was waiting for me at the quarry. I was stumbling, half drunk. Sarah’s words echoed in my head. She had said it only once, yet it was burned into me.

“You’re here,” I said, “I knew you would be.”

He blinked at me. I pulled my jacket off, my shirt, every inch of clothing. It was cold, intimate. He watched me from the water. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, in my gut. It rang through me like a distant call.

“I’m here,” I said, “I’m here.”

His skin was slippery and bloated beneath my fingers, stiff to the touch, like I had imagined it would be. His fingers were webbed and translucent. When I drew my hand back, the same plasticky, taut skin was between my fingers as well.

I knew what Frank needed, what his body needed. I thought about touching my lips to the gills that pressed open and shut on the side of his neck. He needed something only I could give to him, and it was something that had been given to me many times over, slick and drenched in warmth. That writhing, slimy thing that resides in the tender part of a soul. Frank needed someone to come home to him. I would create that home.

“I’m dead,” I said. I knew it was the way to offer myself to him. “I’m rotting inside. Just like you.”

Frank’s face floated beneath me, drained and still. I stood and did not move as the swollen, slippery skin crawled up my legs, covered my thighs, and breached my body until we were both those awful dark things that crawl in the depths, serpents, reptiles, together.

Please, I thought. I could feel my own pulse ringing through the stone. The quarry breathed for me. It spoke with his voice. Cut the rotten flesh from my skin. Let me come home to you. Please.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Meridies is a 19 year old writer from California currently studying creative writing. They enjoy knitted sweaters, pumpkin carving, and swimming in potentially haunted lakes. They are very excited to be part of Snake’s Halloween Fest!

[iforgotmypreviousaccountlol]

Starting Line

Happy Holidays, @carson-asmo-lover 

This is your Secret Santa gift. I hope you like it!

AU: Asmo is a uni student who just moved into a new apartment unit, Solomon is living next door learning how to bake. Every day, Asmo would smell the sweet aroma of baked goods from his room and in the hallways. One day, after a hectic day from uni, he stops in front of the door trying to guess which baked good is being made for that day. The door opens, cue awkward silence, Solomon invites Asmo into his apartment, and into his life.

ASMO

There, there it is again. Asmodeus glanced at his wall clock. Right on time: 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The sweet smell of sugar and pastry permeated his room. His next-door neighbour is baking again. He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to take a guess which pastry his neighbour decided to make today. It has been a good past-time for whenever he found himself bored on some days when he doesn’t have uni classes. Not that he had nothing better to do, he had to catch up on a lot of schoolworks but he isn’t in the mood to do them right now.

He moved in just a few months ago so he could be closer to school, but now that he enjoyed the new-found freedom that is living alone, he realized he missed the constant presence of his brothers. Sure, having his own place meant that Lucifer wasn’t around to nag him when he goes out to party most nights, or if he brings people back to his place for some night escapades (He never did bring someone over though. Maybe he should.) He made a mental note to go home for the weekend if the workload permits.

“Cinnamon rolls,” he finally said, propping up from the couch. The sweet smell of the cinnamon powder that contrasted with the slightly sour cream cheese made Asmo’s mouth water. He groaned. “If you’re gonna make pastries, at least offer some to your neighbours so we don’t get hungry from the smell.”

Now he has no choice but to go down and buy something sweet to satisfy his craving. He put on a peach sweater and wrapped a white scarf around his neck. He stared at his reflection for a moment. His champagne-colored hair was longer on one side, stylishly swept to frame his face. His diamond stud earring reflected light when he turned his face in a certain angle. “Alright, enough. I look stunning, as always.”

He wrinkled his nose at his neighbour’s door when he passed on his way out, the smell of cinnamon is much stronger in the hallway. He hadn’t even met the mysterious baker, given that he’s almost always out to some party when he isn’t in class, it’s strange that they never even once bumped into each other in the lobby or the elevator. He shrugged and went on his way to hunt for some cinnamon rolls.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Asmo was almost dragging himself back to his condo unit after a hectic morning. He had a 3-hour lecture for Fashion Marketing and he had to pass a 10-page essay on Fashion Theory (which of course, he crammed last night. He even skipped a campus party!) and he’s just about ready to pass out and is determined to take a long nap for the whole afternoon. That would have been a solid plan, except it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and the scent of baked sweets wafted from his neighbour’s room and into the hallway.

He stopped on his tracks and inhaled the scent, his brain immediately fell to its routine, trying to discern which ingredients are being used to create what pastry. “Milk, definitely. What else? Eggs? And oh—”

The door suddenly opened. Asmo jerked back in surprise, his hand latched to the strap of his sling bag. He blinked once, twice.

A tall man with silvery-white hair with stunning blue-gray eyes, wearing a black turtleneck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and white apron, came out of the room carrying a small trash bag. Asmo was never one to be at a loss for words, especially not in front of attractive people, but his tongue refused to make an audible sound.

“Oh, hello. I suppose you’re my neighbour? I believe this is the first time we’re meeting each other?” The man continued, “I’m Solomon.”

Asmo shook off his surprise and cleared his throat. He wore his usual disarming smile and nodded at him. “Asmodeus. I just came back from school, I was just, uh,” he said while gesturing to his unit’s door.

“I see.”

Awkward silence filled the space between and around them. Asmo noticed a faint sprinkle of flour on Solomon’s right cheek, he clamped down the urge to reach in and dust it off.

The fire alarm started beeping causing the two to jolt in surprise. Solomon raced to the trash chute, dumped the trash bag and raced back inside his room to turn off the oven. Asmo stood unmoving to the doorway. He wondered if he should offer help.

Thick smoke came out of the oven when Solomon opened it, he fanned the oven with a mitt. The fire alarm hasn’t stopped beeping so Asmo mindlessly stepped inside and grabbed the nearest flat object (which happened to be a pan of piped cream puff dough) to fan the alarm component on the ceiling. He honestly had no idea what he’s doing. The piped dough from the baking pan fell and scattered on the floor, one even hitting him right on the cheek.

“Oh. It stopped,” he commented, the pan still raised over his head.

Asmo glanced at Solomon who was still kneeling in front of the oven and saw that a bunch of dough pieces is now strewn around the kitchen floor. A solitary piece of dough stuck on the baking sheet finally gave up and dropped on Asmo’s forehead. He blinked slowly, unsure on how to react.

Solomon snorted, obviously trying but miserably failing to hold back a laugh. Asmo flicked away the dough which earned a chuckle from Solomon, which in turn triggered Asmo to burst into laughter.

“Sorry, that was… not funny.” Solomon said in between laughs.

Asmo doubled over. He wiped a tear that escaped his eye from laughing and said, “It kinda was.”

“Listen, why don’t you sit and clean yourself up. I’ll just tidy up for a bit and we could enjoy the successful batch I made earlier. Think of it as a welcoming present.”

Asmo considered it for a moment. Sleep or… this? “Sure.”

Solomon smiled, and started cleaning up the mess.

Asmo pulled out a chair and sat. His rose and gold eyes followed Solomon’s movement. It mesmerized him; the grace in his movements, certain and self-assured. He stared so hard he didn’t even notice that Solomon was already standing in front of him asking something.

He shook his head a tiny bit. “I’m sorry, come again?”

Solomon chuckled. His chuckle sent a shiver down Asmo’s spine.

“I asked if you would like tea or coffee. To pair with the cream puffs.”

“Tea, please. With milk.”

Solomon nodded and proceeded to the kitchen counter to make the tea. Asmo wanted to face palm and cringe. Why is he acting this way?

“So… tell me about yourself,” Solomon said.

Asmo paused. In any other instances, he would’ve already started talking about himself without even needing to be prompted. Why is it that he can’t think of something interesting to tell this guy?

“Why don’t we talk about you first?” Asmo deflected the question.

That earned another smile from the fair-haired man. He brought the cooling rack containing the cream puffs and a tray of tea and cups.

“What do you want to know?”

Everything, Asmo thought. Instead he asked, “What’s your major?”

“Chemistry. You?”

Huh, that surprisingly fits him. “Fashion design. Why are you always baking?”

Solomon sipped his tea. “I promised my little brother Luke I would teach him how to bake. You see, a friend of mine, Barbatos went overseas for a job. He was the one who was supposed to teach Luke. But since he can’t, I decided to give it a go.”

“That’s incredibly nice of you.”

“Thank you. For now I still need to watch videos and study the recipe but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. Well, except for the incident earlier.”

Asmo nodded. The cream puffs looked so good he wanted to pull out his phone and post it on his Instagram but he stopped himself. He reached for one and popped it into his mouth.

The milky taste and the slight crisp of the puff blended well, it tasted divine—Asmo’s thoughts stopped at the same time he stopped chewing. WHAT IS THAT? It’s bitter and spicy and sour, flavor after flavor assaulted his taste buds faster than his brain can process the actual taste of the pastry.

He looked at Solomon, the latter clearly expecting a comment or reaction from him. Good thing he quickly managed his expression. He smiled, the cream puff still stuck on the roof of his mouth.

He was saved by the ringing of Solomon’s phone. When Solomon turned his back to reach for his phone, he quickly spit out the pastry on his handkerchief and stowed it on his bag’s pocket.

Solomon’s eyes widened slightly at him when he saw him gulped down his tea as a desperate attempt to wash out the aftertaste. “You sure are thirsty. More tea?” Solomon offered.

“I am. Yes, please.” Asmo nodded vigorously.

“So, what can you say about the cream puffs? It’s my first time so I can understand if they didn’t turn out perfect.”

That would be the understatement of the year, Asmo thought. He also dreaded the question. To tell or not to tell? “Do you have any more of the strawberry tart you made the other day?”

“How did you know I made some?”

“Please. Everyone on this floor probably knows what you’re baking every day.”

Solomon chuckled and proceeded to get a strawberry tart from his fridge.

Asmo swallowed, bracing himself. Just a small bite. A chaos of flavors.

He placed his palms flat on the table for 10 seconds then rushed to the sink to spit out the tart and gargle water. “What the hell was that?”

Solomon raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean? It tastes normal to me.”

Asmo’s jaw fell when he saw Solomon eating his tart with no problem, enjoying it even. He can’t believe he spent his days craving for sweets his neighbour baked when in reality they taste this atrocious.

“That’s it, Solomon. You’re not allowed to bake anymore,” Asmo said, shaking his head.

“Huh? I thought I was doing fine. I really need to learn though, I can’t disappoint Luke.”

Asmo bit his lip, considering. He sighed. “Fine. You can bake all you want, but never without me. I’ll oversee whatever you’re doing to make sure you never end up making those… those unidentifiable monstrosities again!”

Solomon smiled; in his grey-blue eyes, Asmo saw wonders, and potential, and… a future. “Deal.”

SOLOMON

Solomon checked his watch. It’s Friday and Asmo will be coming over in a minute or two. It’s already been more than a month since they started their “baking lessons.” Granted, it’s not every day; it’s only twice a week, thrice when their schedule permits. But would it be a stretch if he admitted to himself that the highlight of his weeks are the days when Asmodeus comes over to watch him work?

A knock interrupted his thoughts. He should just give Asmo a spare key, he thought while walking towards the door.

“You’ll never guess what happened in class today! So see, I crammed a paper again last night so I almost came late for class. Our professor for that class was Professor Simeon, you know? He’s wonderful but can be very strict so I didn’t want to be late and be scolded but then, on the way to the classroom…”

Solomon’s lips tugged at the corner as he watched Asmo lament about his tiring day at school. His strawberry champagne bangs swept stylishly, slightly messed up by the wind. His gold and ruby eyes sparkling along with his words and gestures. Asmo always looked alive to him. No, not the usual alive as in living. Really alive. Maybe that’s what happens when you know to find love in everything.

“Anyway, what are we making today?” Asmo finished, hanging his white coat on the rack near the door.

We. It shouldn’t have sounded as nice as it did. “We,” he said the word with maybe a bit more excitement than warranted, “are making red velvet cake.”

“All right! That’s great. I love red velvet.”

“I already prepared—”

He stopped because of the irritation that flashed in Asmo’s eyes. He bit his lower lip to suppress a smile.

“Throw it out.”

“That would be a waste. At least try out the batter before rejecting it.”

Asmo put both his hands on Solomon’s shoulders and looked at him seriously, emphasizing his words, “Solomon, I know for a fact that you are an amazing and smart chemist, but you’re hopeless in the kitchen.”

Solomon laughed which earned a chuckle from Asmo. “No, no, I didn’t add any suspicious ingredients this time. I swear. I followed the instructions word for word.”

Asmo begrudgingly took a spoon and tasted the batter.

“Good?”

He shrugged. “Surprisingly.”

It was two weeks ago when Asmo finally figured out what he was doing wrong all this time. Solomon had a bad habit of experimenting with ingredients, most likely because of his chemistry experiments. But even after figuring out what’s the problem, Asmo continued supervising his baking. Not that he’s complaining, and not that he would ever ask the arrangement to be over. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked having Asmodeus over.

Solomon started whipping the frosting with a hand mixer while Asmo stayed close to watch him. It took a lot to focus and not glance on his side.

Asmo said, “Hey, you got a little something—”

His eyes met Asmo’s in time as Asmo’s fingers dusted something from his cheek. They stayed frozen in time for a moment; staring at each other, Asmo’s fingers barely grazing Solomon’s cheek.

The moment would’ve lasted longer if the mixer’s whisk attachment hit the side of the bowl in a wrong angle and sprayed both of them with frosting. They blinked at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Kitchen blunders for the nth time,” Solomon joked.

Asmo pulled out his phone and suggested they take a picture, Solomon let Asmo take their “selfie.” After Asmo was satisfied with the pictures, Solomon reached for a paper towel to wipe frosting from Asmo’s usual immaculately beautiful face.

After the cake cooled, Asmo helped design the frosting. He also took pictures to post on his Instagram. Solomon made an account last week just to look at the pictures occasionally. The photo of the cake earned hundreds of likes and comments in minutes. Well, that can’t be helped, Asmo is a popular guy. Solomon would be too if he actually bothered to socialize, but he found it rather exhausting to deal with people he’s not interested in.

“Hey, could you send me our picture from earlier?” Sol said.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Asmo fiddled with his phone. “…And sent.”

“Thank you,” Solomon replied.

They settled down on the table to eat the cake they made and have some tea. They talked about their days and their upcoming exams. Eventually, the sun started setting. Its golden rays streaming from the window, dyeing the room in a soft orange hue.

“I think you’re okay now, Solomon. Remember to just always follow the instructions and don’t add any unnecessary ingredients to whatever you’re cooking or baking, and it’ll turn out fine.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow. He pushed away the idea that Asmo will now stop coming over because they already eliminated the cause of the weird taste (which isn’t actually weird for him).

“It's a force of habit. I’m always curious so I can’t stop myself from experimenting with things.”

“I guess…”

“Why, am I eating up too much of your time?” He asked.

“Of course not. I like spending time with you, Solomon.” Asmo’s cheeks flushed a bit.

Solomon sipped his tea.

Asmo took the small window of silence to change the topic. “Anyway, I got a call from Mammon the other day and guess what? He’s appearing in a mag—”

“Me too,” he interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“I like spending time with you too.”

Asmo was caught off-guard but eventually smiled. He reached for his bag and pulled out a silver box with a champagne-colored ribbon. “By the way, here.”

Solomon’s brows wrinkled. “What’s this?”

“Happy Birthday, Solomon.”

“How did you—”

Asmo winked at him. “Information comes easily when you have a lot of friends.” Asmo laughed and continued, “Kidding. I’m in the same class as Meph, he works in the registrar’s office as an assistant so I asked him. I had to do him some favours, but eh, it’s worth it.”

“Thank you, Asmo. Really.”

Asmo’s phone beeped, he looked at his notifications. His eyes widened a fraction.

Solomon smiled. He had an idea why Asmo was surprised. He glanced on his own phone, notifications pouring in fast. He clicked on a post, his first one ever.

It’s a photo Asmo took of them earlier. Asmo, lively as always, was throwing a peace sign while winking, his ruby and gold eyes full of wonder; Solomon, his blue-grey eyes a pool of mystery, was smiling a bit, looking at him contentedly. The caption? Best birthday with ‘that special someone.’

His phone chimed, a notification appeared on top of his screen: Asmodeus liked your photo.

[limenysnocket]

●The Blush Bet●

Pt. III: Our Love. . .

Summary: After their first non-official date, Taika can't get (Y/N) out of his mind. Every time he opens his phone, it's open to her number and a drafted text lays there and taunts him. He sees her at work and longs for her lips on his. There's never a perfect time to strike and it's all left to spoil until he's on her porch, love stricken, and knocking on her door.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, masturbation and pure porn.

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

A/N: My God, is it hot in here or is it just Taika?

●□○●□○●■○●□○●

I saw her today, but a new light was casted on her and now I can't get her out of my head.

I always knew she was beautiful, but now she was gorgeous and she taunts me with that. With every step she takes, her hips sway and I swear my eyes must look like the copper in a an old bell, following her curves back and forth, whether it be when she runs or just walks fast past me.

Pedro has been asking both of us questions about the date, and every time I try to ask how she felt about it, he stops me, says he doesn't trade secrets, then leaves me hanging. Yes, I know the date was awful, putting her in that pink dress that I bought on EBay, but I said it was going to be horrible and I'm commonly a man of my word. Although, sometimes I promise a drama and just end up with a sick comedy most of the time. Dreadful, isn't it?

Just-- The way she looks at me, with her eyes all glittery. Maybe it's a translucent force holding me back from going over to her, grabbing her by the cheeks and smashing her lips on mine. I would beg for it... maybe I could, if she didn't mind.

No, that would be too childish... but she was leaving me no choice at this point.

I had betrayed the very rules that I had laid down on the date. She wasn't allowed to fall in love with me, and me and my snarky pride thought I'd be fine and come out of the date feeling free. God damn it, my ego is too big sometimes. I never knew that a woman could level me with her eyes in mere seconds. It happened once, but that ended horribly, obviously. Maybe this time, it will be good. It could be good. Maybe. Maybe.

We brushed shoulders today in the green room and it took every ounce of my being to not pin her to a wall in front of every one. Just one kiss. Maybe just one kiss would end all this, and my feelings could be extinguished rightfully instead of torturing me over one woman.

Like this morning, it had driven me insane. I had to cook my eggs with a hard on and stopped halfway through to deal with it. Because I still had my dignity left, I went to the bathroom to deal with it.

I dropped my boxers and stared at it for a moment, thinking of the reason why it was here, then I remembered. Her. (Y/N).

Images of her face entered my mind and before I knew it, my hand was stroking my raw cock. The images of her began to change, and now very lewd. She was screaming my name like it was the only word she knew and her body seemed to bounce in front of me with every stroke of my hand. If only it were real. If only I could actually simulate her warm cunt around me.

I stood in front of my sink, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. My forehead glistened with sweat and I was no longer pumping my hand, but thrusting my hips into it. My free hand gripped the sink and my nails etched invisible lines across the marble. The image of (Y/N) still invaded my vision. Damn it, I was even moaning her name. This wasn't supposed to be the way I found out I was in love with her. I could be moaning any past girl's name or even a dream girl, but no. I tried. I tried so hard, but none of them worked, even in the slightest. I was still drawn to (Y/N) like I was attached to her at the hip. I needed her. I needed her bad.

After work and another wank I managed to get my shit together. Well, almost. So many texts were sprawled into my phone, so many "I miss you" notes and "I love you" sticky notes stuck on the island of my kitchen, idea after idea after idea, but I chickened out of every one of them in the end. I'm supposed to be working on the script, but I'll be damned if I let myself accidentally type "(Y/N)" as one of the names in the typing process.

I buried my face in my hands. She was only one call away. One call.

I picked up my phone and bit my bottom lip as it quivered. I didn't even know what I was going to say. Would I flat out say I love her? No, that's too straightforward. Should I ask if I could... Wait, she's home, isn't she? If I could tell her in person, maybe this feeling would leave. Maybe if I could steal one kiss, my heart would stop pounding every time I thought of her. If I just set my standards really high before I kiss her, I will seem underwhelmed and forget all about my feelings for her.

I took a shaky deep breath, nodding as I clicked onto the dial pad and called a cab. I was going to show up to her door, totally unexpected, and beg her to let me kiss her. If it needs to come down to begging.

It was only a mere lightning flash before I was at her door and my hand was raised in the exact same way it was before we came close to kissing that night. I wonder what would have happened if her lips touched mine. Would I be over her or would she be under me?

Thunder rumbled in the sky above me and I realized that I needed to knock on the door and get in fast, before my new Salmon colored shirt and grey pants got ruined. I sucked up all the courage I had and out it into three stiff knocks on her door.

I could hear shuffling around inside and my foot started to bounce. My cab had already pulled out of the driveway, so there was no going back now. My breath accelerated as the locks started to come undone on the door and my hands clenched and so did my heart.

The door slowly tugged open and there, just past the door, was the face I longed to see all throughout the day.

"I need to talk to you," I whispered hot and heavily, my mind silently taking note that she was only dressed in a massive Prince t-shirt.

"S-Sure, okay," she said in a very surprised and shaky voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide and a little wild. I must have woken her up, perhaps. She offered to let me inside before the rain started pouring down.

"What do you need to talk about?" She whispered to me as I made my way into her living room, rubbing a thumb over the opposite hand's knuckles.

"A lot of things," I said, looking at all the papers sprawled out on her coffee table, notes taken everywhere. She was working over time. Why? I thought she enjoyed her days off. There was something else I noticed. There was a little glimmer of some kind of liquid on the couch and just by it were prints and marks where she had been sitting and/or laying down on the couch. It made me gulp. I must have caught her doing--... oh my...

"You, uh... You might want to sit down for this," I said cautiously and she scurried over and quickly sat down on the couch, her body partially hiding the wet spot. Now, I knew it was for sure.

I took a deep breath, standing only a coffee table away from her. My hands fiddled about. They'd be in my pocket one minute, then fighting each other the next with brutal squeezes. "(Y/N)," I said, my voice very hoarse, then I shook my head. If I was going to beg, I might as well do it properly. I went around the coffee table and got down on my knees in front of her. "I can't stop thinking about you..." I whisper to her. She seems to go into quiet shock, but she nods her head to tell me to keep going. "I've had you on my mind all day. I've tried to stop, but I can't. I fear that this is some sort of sick obsession that has grown ever since... the night on your porch." I gently clasp her hand in mine. She squeezes it softly and looks down at it.

"It's been the same way with me," she muttered, to my surprise. Then, she started reading my thoughts exactly. "Maybe if I had kissed you, this wouldn't have happened and our lives might have stayed right on track... how we used to be..." She looked down and so did I, at our hands as her thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Friends," she said finally, putting an end to her speech.

"I've had the same theory," I say aloud, and lift my free hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Think it's still worth giving a shot?"

I watched her stomach rise and fall slowly, then our eyes connected again and she began to lean in. No need for verbal agreement, I guessed, since she admitted it. My eyes flutter closed even before our lips completely touch, and our foreheads are the first to meet. In the beginning, we're hesitant, but as we sank in closer and our lips met, we no longer had second thoughts.

The kiss was slow and absorbed in feeling; passion, remorse, need and frustration, creating an ungodly mix of emotions all tangled into one. I failed my own plan again and forgot to set my standards high, but even if I did, she would have met them, just ever so perfectly. She tasted of warm peaches and her bottom lip was like a velvet pillow caressing my own lip. She didn't even need to try to be a good kisser. The sensation alone was magnificent.

We both pulled away at the same time. I was still crouched in front of her and ducked my head down, fingers running over my lips and soft pants parting between them. My heart no longer pounded. It fucking swirled. And so did my stomach, apparently. Oh God, I was falling deeper and deeper in love with her right in front of her.

I suddenly feel her hands move under my jaw and she cupped it, lifting my gaze up to meet hers again, that adorable little look she gave. There was a silent pact taken, an agreement, really...

We both needed more.

I was the first to launch up and capture her lips, and this kiss was much rougher than the last one. We both tilted our heads and I slowly rose from my knees and got onto the couch. She laid back, spreading her legs a little to allow me to lay between them. The moment our crotches touched, however, I stopped. It was warm and wet. So much to the point where I could feel it through my pants. I pulled out of the kiss, my expression skeptical, then my eyes flickered to hers. She was looking away with embarrassment. When I had found out that she had been having her alone time to play with herself, I had figured that she still had something on beneath the shirt to at least answer the door. Short shorts or something... Alas, I was wrong.

To confirm my suspicion, I started to grind on her gently. The more I did so, the more I felt my growing tent get dipped into her heat. I had to see it with my own eyes now.

One of my hands, at one time planted by her head, slipped down to the hem of her baggy shirt and brought it up to her chest, exposing not just her heat but the curve of her breasts. My eyes glossed over and I unconsciously licked my lips. There it was. That SHE was. Glistening wet and beautiful.

"You really had some time to think about me, huh?" I grinned cockily. She smacked my arm and huffed a little, cheeks an alarming red.

"Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can just shut this whole thing down before it happens," she said and crossed her arms.

"Who said it made me uncomfortable?" I purr and get close to her stomach, pressing a tender kiss to it, before trailing more down, lower and lower. She panted and whined in anticipation like a dog in heat. Patience was the key, in this situation, and I took my time. During my morning masturbation period, I really do have time to think, besides about what (Y/N) might look like completely nude or dressed in something I might like, and I have a tendency of asking myself questions... questions like what might (Y/N) taste like.

I gently pushed two fingers into her slit, then part her folds, my eyes scan everything from her clit down to her hole. My God, everything about her... It drives me crazy. I dove in, flicking my tongue against her bud and that made her mewl my name ever so softly. I needed more of that. I wanted to hear her scream it.

I licked a fat, hot strip from the bottom to the top. I groaned. Fuck, she tasted delicious. She started to cry out as I ate her out properly. Sucking, licking and flicking my tongue across those deliciously sensitive spots. Her legs lifted up and rested on my shoulders and her soft thighs squeezed my head. I let out a soft groan and that seemed to drive her even more crazy. My God, this woman.

My hands gripped her hips and tugged them close, to keep her from squirming away. It wasn't long before she was moaning even louder and her fingers tugged at my hair harshly. My tongue started to thrust in and out of her, something that I hoped to let my dick do in a matter of moments, once she came on my mouth. I clung to her like crazy and pleasured her until she squirted, but even then I stuck to her, drinking up everything she gave me.

My chin was coated and glistening with her juices and I licked my lips free of her taste. I wanted more, but I also knew that she was waiting for the main show. She sat up and beckoned me forward with a curled digit. She first lifted off her shirt to expose everything to me. I started feeling a little bad, being completely dressed, but I didn't have to worry about that for long.

Her hands went straight for my belt and we worked fast together. I undid my button up and threw it off, along with my white undershirt. I smirked at the eagerness in her actions. She practically ripped my boxers off. I don't think I'll be getting them back after all this. Oh well. My thumb went to her clit once I had tossed everything off, but she grabbed my collar and tugged me close. "No more teasing," she growled hotly in my ear. That made me twitch with want. I nodded and took a deep breath, grabbing her by the thighs and dragging her where she was laying down in front of me.

I caressed her body with my hand and I began to kiss her neck, softly and slowly while I started to push into her tight cunt. She was so much tighter than I imagined. She was everything compared to my lubed up hand. She moaned my name into my ear and started to mewl for me. I let her adjust while gripping her hips tightly. I whispered soft curses into her ear.

I can't believe this moment was happening, that I was starting to pound into her wildly, just how I imagined I'd do it if she had actually been there, on my bathroom sink this morning to help deal with the "problem" that occurred. I should have kissed her a whole lot earlier.

I now bury my face into her bosom and kiss the skin between them while my hips bumped against hers violently and passionately. Never has desecrating someone's couch felt so good before.

Our sinful moans, nature and sounds filled the room. The couch rocked beneath our love making and our lips eventually met again. I could still taste her on the tip of my tongue, her essence. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, I quite think she found it to be a sensual aphrodisiac that fueled the fire in both of us. Her hands explored and unconsciously pleasured me, while my hips went wild and pleasured her.

I left little love nips with my teeth all over her body, claiming my territory. New territory. Man, Pedro is going to blow his top whenever he hears about this. Everyone is, probably, once it gets out on set.

"T-Taika~. Oh, fuck~," (Y/N) cried out and she pulsed and tightened around me. It made her start to thrust faster, giving her a burst of roughness.

"How close are you, love~?" I growl in her ear hotly. She only responded with hot moans and deep pants of my name. I needed an answer, so I smacked her ass roughly and massaged it by digging my fingers into it. She cried out sharply and moaned a weak, breathy, "Close~!"

"Good~," I groaned and bit down roughly on her skin again. I started thrusting faster and faster, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. I could feel it.

Oxygen became less and less of a priority the more we made love and the softer our actions became, all the way up to the peak and that's where our true feelings sparkled the most. I pressed my sweaty forehead against hers as she released on my six inch, then I had to pull it out and coat her thighs with my essence. I let my body sink and the only thing that filled the room was our soft pants of each other's names.

"Won't leave me hanging next time I try to kiss you again, right?" I hum softly and wink at her.

"Of course~," (Y/N) whispered back and made me smile as she leaned up and kissed me, her fingers curling into my hair.

What a woman...

[writeyouin]

You're Jareth's betrothed. A masquerade is held on the eve of your wedding, but a jealous Fae woman poisons you with sleeping potion. You collapse in Jareth's arms & the woman's arrested, taunting him. If he can't find the cure before the stroke of 13 on the 13th day, you'll die. He goes nearly mad slaving over books & traveling everywhere, desperate to save you. On the last day, he finds the cure & you wake up confused, but Jareth's so relieved he holds you tight & cries into your shoulder.

Jareth X Reader –Slipping Away

A/N – Fun fact, Sluagh are part of Irish folklore, I didn’t make them up. They’re the spirits of the restless dead, sometimes viewed as fae with no loyalty, reason or mercy, doomed to wander the Earth in hordes.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Extravagance. It was the only word that could be used to describe the tremendous scene before you. The once crumbling pillars of an ancient temple now supported growths of creeping plants. Without a roof, the moon bathed everyone in its peaceful beams, illuminating the iridescently divine forms of fae dancers, celebrating your wedding to Jareth; unlike human weddings, the fae celebrated beforehand, claiming the wedding night was intended only for the newlyweds.

You stood at what would have been the entrance in a time long past, taking steadying breaths and trying to remember your exact instructions from Jareth’s previous tutoring. The fae had a very complex social hierarchy which you had to adhere to if they were to accept you as the future spouse to their king. You stood at the start of a long glistening silver carpet that led to two thrones, one for Jareth and the other for you. On the carpet were woven depictions of black and gold blooms. Your job was to step only on the tiny golden blooms which represented a fortuitous life; stepping on the black blooms would supposedly condemn your marriage to the evil spirits of the Sluagh, souls of the sinful humans trapped between the borders of the fae and human realm.

After the walk down the aisle or rather the ‘Dance of Blossoms,’ as the fae called it, you were to wait in front of your throne for Jareth to stand with you, signalling you were worthy of his attention, then a drink of Vinum Aeternum would be brought forward in two heavy silver chalices. You and Jareth would have your hands bound in golden silk and you would feed Jareth his drink first without spilling a drop, then he yours. After that, the two of you would finally be able to sit or take part in the festivities at your leisure.

The whole affair seemed far too complicated to you, but it was imperative you succeeded, otherwise the wedding would not proceed. Naturally, you’d practiced for this moment, but the practice had never been a complete success. From your left, a delicate bell rang and though you weren’t sure how the entire temple heard it, they all stopped, forming two perfectly straight lines on either side of the carpet to watch you complete the ‘Dance of Blossoms.’

Feeling nauseated, you began your journey, wobbling several times, though you regained your balance as you forged on, no doubt ungraceful in comparison to the fae of the past who had completed the journey. You ignored the hawk-like eyes of the spectators, some of whom looked like they wanted you to fail their king; instead, you found solace in Jareth’s unwavering gaze as you made your way to him.

Finally, you made it to the end of the aisle, where you dropped to your knees for Jareth’s inspection. He rose dramatically, circling you gracefully as was his role. Gently, he grasped your forearms, pulling you to your feet and ‘accepting’ you for the kingdom to see.

“You did well,” He whispered so nobody else would hear.

Although the praise itself was small, it emboldened you, quelling your previous fears. Neither of you said anything else as your hands were bound in their silk manacles by the high priestess. Taking a step back, the priestess waited for another fae woman to step forward, delivering the wine. As she poured the drinks you held back a gasp for it looked like liquid starlight.

Passing you your chalice, the fae waited whilst you held it to Jareth’s lips with shaking hands; it was much heavier than the ones you’d used in practice. Through the sheer intensity of his gaze, Jareth willed you to be okay until he had sipped the last of his wine. You set your chalice down on a tray the server held and waited in trepidation for Jareth’s turn. Jareth’s lips quirked up in a small smile, just another tiny sign that he was eager to be wedded. You found it funny how such a small action could speak volumes of his personality, for it wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t decipher him at all; it seemed that everything the fae did was either a huge explosion over a small emotion or the smallest of reactions to their more intense feelings.

Gracefully, Jareth took the chalice that was presented to him, holding it up for you to sip. The second the liquid met your lips, you knew something was wrong. You didn’t know what the wine was supposed to taste like, but the acrid flavour that met your tongue was all wrong, and everything in your body knew it. With a pained cry, you fell backwards, losing consciousness.

Jareth dropped his goblet, moving with inhuman speed to catch you, even with his bound hands. Using his magic, he freed himself of the ties and, reaching out with his mind, he summoned the court healer. The healer appeared in less than a second, suspending you in the air so you were levitating at her waist height. Every time Jareth tried to ask what he could do, she shushed him and waved him away, even as the crowd watched on.

While the fae healer set about using the arcane arts, Jareth turned to the onlookers with such fury, the very ground shook.

“WHO DID THIS?!” He demanded, using gales of wind to carry his words across the entire Underground, distorting it to sound like that of a Wraith or some equally disturbing beast. He needn’t have shouted so far for there was only one smiling face amidst a sea of grim and fearful expressions.

Jareth pointed accusingly at a hag, not at all beautiful like the other fae. It was clearly a guise and one used only to show contempt or disrespect. Although it was well within Jareth’s power to strip the hag of her guise, he offered her one chance; it was not an act of mercy, but of power, aimed to show that he was in command. “SHOW YOUR TRUE FORM FOUL CREATURE, SO I MAY PUNISH THE REAL YOU.”

Despite her old, leathery face, the hag hadn’t bothered to change her true, melodious voice; it was one that would have made the very birds stop singing so they could hear its beauty. “Why, my king, do you not recognise me? Was it not your cruelties that bade me to be hideous before thee?”

“SPEAK NOT IN THE OLD TONGUE WENCH!” Jareth cried, though by now he knew her true name for such a voice could not be mistaken. Everyone knew of the Witch of the Wastes, Desdemona. Once Jareth’s lover, Desdemona committed the worst crime any fae could do against another; adultery. Such heartbreak would have killed any other fae, but that was how Desdemona found that Jareth did not truly love her as he had tried to for many centuries. The sheer fact she was willing to let him die to prove her theory only enraged him further.

As punishment to her crime, Jareth created a special prison in the Labyrinth for her. An oubliette wherein she could see any event she wanted outside, but never interact with it; at the time, it amused him greatly to show her that she’d inspired an Aboveground play by the Medium, William Shakespeare. Now however, Jareth cared not for foolish trifles, only to know how she had escaped her gilded cage.

“How did you escape wench?”

“Oh, please my sweet. Let us not forget the old pet names we once used, was I not once your peach as your new betrothed is now?”

Jareth flinched as if struck, an ominous air encompassing him, filled with the unknown. When he did not answer, Desdemona sighed, shucking her disguise to reveal beauty enough to rival Aphrodite herself. Skin as dark as the blackest night, a plump figure so luxurious even the Abovegrounders would make it a fashion again if they saw her instead of their emaciated models. Her hair, a mix of black and gold was woven into magnificent braids, making the gold look like the very stars themselves had lowered themselves from the night sky to kiss her. Even the filthy rags she wore for her guise could not do anything to dampen her beauty.

“You are not as fun as you used to be, my sweet.”

“Still your tongue for I am not yours to be claimed. My heart belongs to another and yours is a shrivelled piece of coal, if it even exists. Tell me how you escaped,” Jareth demanded, though he no longer shouted, he didn’t need to for he had more power under a mere whisper than he ever would with a thunderous tone.

“Escaped? No, no, no. I was freed by those who are no longer bedazzled by you as I used to be. You are not so popular as you used to be, my sweet. Marrying a human will be your undoing.”

“Name the cretins who betrayed me, so they may suffer the same fate as you Witch,” Jareth sneered. He knew Desdemona well. She was powerful, maybe enough to match him in combat, but she was also vain and arrogant. If he could stroke her ego long enough under the pretences of listening to her, he could finish the spell he was silently weaving to finish her off, once and for all. He was under no impression that she wasn’t also doing the same, hoping to avoid a long, tiresome duel, but if he could finish his spell first, there wouldn’t be anything more to worry about.

Desdemona chuckled, “And give you my only subjects? I think not Jareth. It would not be fitting. Ah,” she looked past him to the healer caring for you. “You’re wasting your healer’s time, my sweet. That poison is from the bark of the Belger Tree. There is no cure.”

The ground shook in an Earthquake even more ferocious than the last at Jareth’s fury, and all the fae before him, except for Desdemona were sent sprawling to the ground. He hadn’t meant to do that and it distracted him momentarily from his spell, wasting precious seconds. However, he couldn’t help his despair. The Belger tree had once been a fae, poisoned by the one she was betrothed to. Instead of dying from the poison, the fae woman Belger lived and grew hateful, then fearing that she would have her heart broken again, she cut it out, using her last moments to bury it deep in the soil. The still-beating heart bore a mighty black tree, caught between life and death. It always grew, yet never bloomed and anything that touched it was destined to die. No doubt, to get such a vile poison as its bark, Desdemona had been very careful indeed.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jareth abandoned his spell and bellowed a single word, “BALOR!”

Forgetting any previous grace, Desdemona rushed at him, throwing him to the floor and clamping her hand to his mouth. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU FOOL?! YOU CANNOT SUMMON THE DEMON KING! HE’LL KILL US ALL!”

Desdemona’s warnings were too late however. From the sky came a tornado of shrieking wind that would challenge any banshee. The world fell silent again as Balor stepped out from the tornado, letting it die into nothingness. Balor was a giant among the fae. A God of Death, he wore warped armour, made of the hardened bodies of his victims. Fortunately, he kept one of his flaming red eyes shut, for it was well known that whenever he opened both eyes, everything before him died.

With a blast of quick magic, Jareth threw Desdemona off him, summoning manacles to bind her arms, though they would not last for long. Speaking with reverence befitting the God, Jareth bowed, “Balor, on the day of my wedding I have committed a great injustice to you. I did not invite you to approve of the festivities. Therefore, I present you with a gift. The Witch of the Wastes, Desdemona.”

Desdemona screamed loudly, trying to break free of her manacles, but Jareth ignored her, talking all the faster. “Do with her what you please. Feed off her magic, kill her, toy with her, whatever you wish, for she is yours. Do you accept my gift Demon King?”

Balor’s eye narrowed sharply and for one short moment, Jareth was afraid he was going to open his other eye. Instead, he stomped over to Desdemona, saying nothing as he grabbed her bound hands and dragged her to the centre of the temple. Desdemona kicked and screamed, shouting curses born of terror. Her screams were soon drowned out by another shrieking whirlwind that carried Balor back to his realm.

Free of any further distractions, Jareth ran to your side, looking into the Healer’s wise eyes that held centuries of knowledge. “Is it possible to-”

The healer shook her head, cutting him off with an ancient voice that sounded odd coming from her perfectly young body. “The best I can do is keep (Y/N) stable and in the land of good dreams until (s)he passes to the great beyond.”

“Do so then, until I find a cure.”

“My king, there are only thirteen days until that happens. Best to spend the remaining days treasuring your love.”

“Please,” Jareth begged, not daring to order the healer around for she was revered by all the fae.

The healer bowed, “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Jareth threw another old tome against the wall of his study, watching as some of the pages fell out on its journey to the floor. Nine days gone, and he was no closer to finding a cure to your ailments than before. He couldn’t even enter your dreams to at least tell you he was searching because the poison that was slowly killing you would infect him as well, or so the nameless healer told him.

Turning away from his books, he receded into the depths of his mind, viewing everywhere in the Underground at once. He had to think of something, for he would go crazy if he didn’t. Finally, he screamed in anguish, despairing that the Underground had nothing to show him that might help.

Raving mad, Jareth transformed into his owl form, flying through an open window and setting out on a journey to the Belger tree; if he couldn’t save you then he could join you in your fate by touching the tree’s bark. However, he would first make sure nobody shared your and his fate again. Before he let the tree kill him, he would destroy it, saving a piece of its bark to take back so he might die by your side.

Too weak to teleport after his constant efforts to find a cure, Jareth resolved himself to the flight. It took him two whole days to reach the tree and in that time he had an idea; it was desperate and probably doomed to failure, but an idea nonetheless.

Soaring down to the long abandoned dessert of the ancient ones, Jareth landed in the sand before the imposing Belgar tree, careful not to touch the monumental roots which had grown so large, they stuck out from the sand in multiple places. Instead of destroying the hateful tree like he had planned, Jareth transformed into his usual fae self and did something he had never done before in his long life. He kneeled.

“Oh, great Belgar, I Jareth the Goblin King kneel before you so that I may plead your aid. Just like you, I was wronged by an old lover and now I need you to give me an antidote to your very bark, for without it, my one true love will die.”

Nothing happened and Jareth squeezed his eyes tightly shut so he didn’t cry before his quest was over.

“Please,” He whispered.

He waited an age before he was graced with an answer. The tree lifted some of its roots from the ground, weaving them together to form the image of a fae. The branches hissed when they moved to move her mouth, “Why should I save your love when no-one protected me from mine?”

Although Jareth would have normally argued, he was humbled by the Belgar tree’s ethereal power which washed over him even before she spoke. “I have no reason that you should help me.”

“Then let me rest young one.”

“But-” Jareth choked out, finally crying from days of pent up fear and exhaustion. “But if you do not help me, does that not make you as bad as the one who betrayed you?”

The tree-woman roared, summoning more branches to make her larger in size, so she dwarfed Jareth. “DO NOT PRESUME TO LECTURE ME ON MORALS! YOU HAVE NO IDEA OF THE CENTURIES OF TORMENT I HAVE SUFFERED!”

“No,” Jareth agreed, bowing his head, “But if you don’t help me now, I’ll soon learn, for I will be just like you; I would sooner cut out my heart than lose (Y/N). (S)he is my everything.”

“How do I know if I give you my cure that you won’t simply hide it away so nobody else may have it?” The tree-fae lamented mournfully.

“You would not, but is it not better to help someone than spend more time suffering? This may well be your one chance to save yourself from more pain, and if not… Well, I for one would not forget your generosity.”

The tree was silent for a long time, and Jareth feared he’d lost her audience. Finally, the tree-woman reached out a hand, holding out a single fragile flower. It had pale-blue petals shaped like teardrops and looked so frail, it could die any moment. “This flower took me ten-thousand years to grow. If anything will cure your love, it is this. Take it and be gone, young one. I do not wish to be disturbed again. Leave me to my long rest.”

Careful to only touch the flower, Jareth took the blossom, bowing deeply to thank the Belgar tree who promptly disassembled its humanoid form, returning to the way it had been before. Placing the flower in a protective orb, Jareth transformed once again into a barn owl and took off into the night sky, flying faster than he’d ever gone before, hoping he would make it back to you in time.

As a fae who’d spent most of his life pitting people against time itself, Jareth felt the cruel irony of his own plight; he was painfully aware of each second that passed, leading closer to your demise.

He didn’t go back to his study, instead he headed to his chambers, where you were resting on the bed, tended to by the healer. Instead of flying through an open window as he had when he left, he crashed through the closed one, bleeding heavily in his owl form, but only lightly when he transformed back to his usual form.

“(Y/N),” He ran to your side, clutching your deathly cold hand in his free one, for the other still held the bloom in its orb. “How fares (s)he?”

The healer shook her head, “You only have minutes, my liege. Spend them wisely.”

Jareth shoved the orb at the healer, “No, not minutes. I have eternity. That is the cure we need. Please, find some way to administer it, and quickly.”

Although the wizened healer would have loved more time to examine the curious plant which she could feel the power emanating from, there wasn’t time as the clock above the bed started chiming thirteen. Chanting a few short words, the healer turned he plant into liquid, using its protective orb as a cup. Placing the cup to your lips, she forced the liquid down your throat, then stepped back and waited.

Jareth held one of your hands tightly in both of his, waiting for you to do or say anything that would inform him you were well. As the clock chimed its last bell, Jareth drew you towards him, sobbing into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” He cried. “I should have done more, I should have been better.”

“I do,” You mumbled tiredly, causing Jareth to freeze.

The healer smiled knowingly, excusing herself silently for what would no doubt be a tearful reunion.

“(Y/N)?” Jareth whispered.

“I will marry you, I do,” You groaned, half-dreaming. Slowly, you opened your eyes, coming face to face with Jareth. “Why’re you here? Weren’t you on the um, the… the fancy chair?”

Exhausted and over-emotional from a lack of sleep, Jareth clung to you, breaking down into a flood of tears.

“Okay…” You said, still confused on what was a dream and what was reality. “I’m sorry I forgot it was called a throne, but is it really worth crying over?”

With a reassuring squeeze, Jareth whimpered, “I love you, so much. You are my heart.”

Rubbing his back comfortingly, you smiled hazily, “And you are mine.”

Later on, Jareth explained everything that had happened during the time after your wedding. Despite requesting an audience with the Belgar tree to thank her for her gift to you, Jareth refused to take you, remembering his promise to leave the tree alone. He did however check on the tree through his mirrors and what he found made him smile. For the first time ever, the Belgar tree had a covering of lush purple leaves like those of a weeping willow, complementing her beautiful black bark; it was the most beautiful thing Jareth had ever seen, and he made sure to never forget it.

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[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 100 Xs1) "Day 26: Seattle and Old Side Chicks"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3 @crystalbaby12 @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @5sosfam1dlover @rosefilledhearts-blog

Luna's eyes whip open. Her brain continuously running around things through out the few short hours it was supposed to call Sleep. That's how Luna functions when she has an idea.

Bursting with hungover energy, she jumps out of bed. Luna's never up and moving like this unless her mind is flying with creativity. This morning being a prime example as she tries to connect the musical dots that are overcrowding her head.

Not even bothering to smoke or brush her teeth, she's out the door. Down the hall. Banging on Ashley and Dom's door.

"I've got an idea." She states as she makes her way past a groggy Ashley.

It's not even 8A and Luna is buzzing. They went to bed around 4A. Ashley hating Luna's guts in this moment.

With her hands and arms full, Luna drops her treats on the floor. Her phone, notebook, multiple pens, bowl, jar of weed and two prescription bottles filled with Percocets and Xanax falling around her. Along with her Ideas.

"I wanna run a Super Jam." She states, wiggling her fingers. "I don't know how though yet...." She trails as she sits amongst her treasures.

Ashley plunks down beside her. Dutifully packing the bowl for her creatively manic friend

"Wut's 'oin ya mind?" Dom pops up from the bed asking.

"I don't knooowww....." Luna answers honestly. "I don't know if we should run an Authentic Seattle, Mainstream Grunge, Dead Seattle or Dead Grunge...." Her leg bouncing to the different songs running through her mind.

Covering Bands is really cool for some artists.... Paying homage is an entirely different entity.

Ashley fires up the bowl. Exhaling her hit, she asks Luna What's More Important.

"Fran." Luna answers without a thought as Ashley passes her the bowl with a knowing look. "Lemme call Colson." She decides as she takes a hit.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Colson's annoyed by his phone ringing. It's early as FUCK. No one should be calling him right now. Seeing the who it is, his anger lifts.

"HEY!!" He can feel her shine through the phone.

"Hi, Kitty..." Even tired he can't help but grin at the sound of her voice.

"I got an idea!!" She explodes.

"Oooh, yeah? What?" Colson asks.

He loves her ideas and little games. Luna never failing to amuse, intrigue and push him beyond his artistic scope. Or sexual limits.

"I wanna Super Jam.... I'm thinking four or five GREAT songs..." She goes on to explain.

"FUCK yeah!" Colson finds himself grinning harder with a nod.

"Cool... I'm getting out of here as quick as possible. Talk to The Boys. By time I get back we need a solid idea to mix and rehearse.

"I got you, Kitten." He reassures her, pumped by her idea.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Off the phone, Colson is hard from the sound of Luna's voice. Sliding his hand around his thick cock, he smiles.

"My Bitch is like no other...." He thinks as he aches for her.

Remembering her birthday gift to him, Colson grabs his laptop. Finding the file and setting himself up, he's prepared for his viewing.

Seeing Luna tease and fuck him, Colson strokes his cock like he's trying to strangle someone. He grows harder as he watches himself devour Luna's insides. Remembering her sweet taste of peaches, he pulls on himself faster.

Stroking his dick at a firm pace, his grip tightens. Watching their video, he imagines every inch of Luna as she slides herself around him on the laptop's screen.

Cooing as she helps him pump his huge cock into her. The sound of their satisfied moans pushing on his brain.

Floating back to That Night. The way he felt so nervous until Luna had popped in wearing The Cheetah Print Coat. The sight of her taunting his dick while easing his soul. It was the first time he had ever fucked her. Instantly admitting that he was truly in love with HER. Not just the memory of The Girl In The Cheetah Print Coat.

Their connection and sex being an inescapable delight. No one ever fucking his body or mind like THAT Brooklyn Bitch.

Yanking on his cock now, Colson's body stiffens as he splooges all over himself. Breathing hard, he lays there. Details from the strip club still weaving through his mind.

--------------------------------------------------

"Yo. Book us. I gotta get the fuck up outta here ASAP...." Luna says to Ashley's nod.

Catching a call from Monica, she's freaking out. It seems to be a steady state of mind for her recently. Luna hates it.

"I'm done." Monica states firmly. "I'm your FUCKING LAWYER. NOT YOUR MANAGER."

"Wait.... What the fuck are you talking about?" Luna questions her.

"I'm talking about that I'm your Lawyer but.... You need a Manager because I CAN'T manage your schedule." She starts in. "You don't know what this last month has been like for me. Besides all the legal and wedding shit, no one has your number so they all hit ME. My phone stays blowing up over you." Monica states with frustration.

"Wait... What??" Luna's beyond lost.

"YOU.NEED.A.MANAGER." Monica says slowly like Luna's dumb.

On this she is. Dumb and confused.

"What???" Luna asks again.

This makes Monica beyond frustrated.

"Dude... I can't book you... It's not my job. You NEED to get a FUCKING Man.A.Ger. I've been getting calls for IT since yesterday. Stern wants to book you... Good Morning America has BEEN asking for either Nightmare or Bad Things.... FUCK! THAT'S NOT MY FUCKING JOB!!" Monica yells.

"Wait.... Why IT?" Luna asks.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?" Monica finally explodes. "You played it on fucking DayTime TV yesterday!!"

"OH SHIT!!! THEY RAN IT!!" Luna shouts in disbelief.

Amazed, Luna can't help but grin. Knowing she's as pretty as a sunset but always thinking her words were too ugly for DayTime. She's beyond pleased. IT is EXACTLY the kind of song people SHOULD be listening to at all times. Day or night, the message of the song never changes.

"You need a FUCKING manager. I'm not THAT. You paid for law school for A FUCKING REASON. To protect you, not to fucking schedule you." Monica expresses with an attitude.

"I know...." Luna begins to apologize before slipping into hungover reality. "You got ANY suggestions?" Luna can't help but ask with a snark, feeling slightly abandoned.

"No. Do this yourself." Monica says, still pissed.

"What about vetting?" Luna questions her.

"Fine. Bring me three. We'll figure it out who from there." She slightly relents.

"Thank you, Mon. Seriously. I know this last month has been a lot. I'm sorry. I'll find someone. I just.... You know I value your opinion... So, thank you." Luna sighs.

Meeting their freshman year in high school, Monica knows Luna is genuine. Whether she pays her or not, they're true friends. Monica being one of the few Luna will back down from and compromise with.  As Monica lets up on her a bit, they end their phone call on a positive note.

-------------------------------------------------

"So, what? Snippets of different songs mashed together?" Baze asks Colson as he explains Luna's idea.

Sitting around the front of The Bus, they're getting toasted with their morning coffee. Colson had woke them up after he'd showered, knowing they needed to get to work.

"Yeah... Just like that. Probably running like 6 or 7mins...." Colson answers to his nod of understanding.

"When will she be back?" Slim asks of Luna.

"They're on their way now. Should be here before 4P." Colson informs him.

"Wait. She wants to do this tonight?" Slim asks, without waiting for an answer he goes on. "That gives us 3hrs to piece together basically a whole new song.... Of shit we ain't probably NEVER play before so we gonna have to learn it AND then fucking rehearse it to play to a sold out club. Tonight."

Slim ends his rant by tilting his head as he gives Colson a look of What The Fuck.

"Dawg... Obviously she likes a challenge." Colson throws his arms out to showcase himself.

Slim laughs with the rest of The Bus as he rolls his eyes. Asking if They Know Any Of These Fucking Songs.

"Yeah we do..." AJ says confidently pulling out his phone. "Let's make a list of songs we know and how they fit into the different categories of ideas Luna has."

Sam hands him the paper and pen he asks her for. Getting up to grab more coffee, she stops and turns to the group.

"You know, we'll have nine musicians with us tonight. Besides the drums, I play bass and rhythm guitar... So, between all of us, if we pick the right songs the odds are that one of us will know how to play it." She says.

"You offerin' to get OnStage with us tonight?" Colson teases her.

Sam shrugs out an I'm Just Sayen' before Colson agrees It's A Good Idea and Theory. The group of them sitting together, trying to work out the flow of different songs.

-------------------------------------------------

Flying high over The United States, Ashley, Luna and Dom kick around their own ideas.

"So what do you truly want?" Ashley asks Luna.

"Honestly.... If it was MY show, we'd run a totally obscure mix. Focusing on the Lost Seattle Originals. I'd really LOVE to play a tribute to Mia Zapata, Stephanie Sargent and Layne.... Especially Layne. Considering how forgotten he was."

"So fucked up...." Luna sadly thinks of how the rock legend had laid dead in his apartment for over a week before anyone realized he was missing. The thought still breaks her heart the same way it did when she'd first heard the story.

"I don't think many of his fans are gonna know Seven Year Bitch or The Grits though.... But I don't know because they are hometown bands." Luna's leg is still bouncing as she sighs.

"Do you think you may be overextending yourself on this one?" Ashley says gently.

Not one to admit defeat, Luna's brain is still dancing around itself. Determined to figure this out.

"Wut aboot a King and Queen of grunge homage?" Dom asks. "Smashing togeter a Nirvana and Hole song?"

He thinks it's a great idea. Ashley knows it's not.

Luna's eyes go dark. It's a horrible idea in her opinion. Twisted though, it could be one of her greatest Fuck Yous yet. Luna's mind starts shifting gears.

--------------------------------------------------

"WHAT UP, BIIIITCHES!!!" Luna shouts as she climbs onto The Bus.

Ashley and Dom are behind her. They're met by excited Yos and What's Goods. Ashleigh greeting Luna with a tight hug.

Colson comes charging out from their room. Scooping Luna up, he attacks her with kisses as she wraps her legs around his waist tightly with giggling acceptance. Their kisses are matched with EWWWs and GO TO YOUR FUCKING ROOM. Luna continues to laugh as they kiss each other Hello and exchange I Missed Yous. Colson muttering a Shut The Fuck Up Sam while keeping his mouth on Luna's. Pressing hard on his lips, she plants a solid smooch on Colson before sliding off of him. Hard dick poking her on the way down.

"Sooooo.... I think I might have been a little overambitious with this whole Super Jam thing...." Luna admits.

"Thank the Lawd!!! She crazy but she ain't FUCKIN' stupid!!" Slim yells in relief as he throws his arms up.

"Thanks, Jerk Off." Luna laughs at him.

Slim tosses her an elbow and a Sorry as he laughs with her. She meets his peace treaty along with a smile.

"But I have a list!!" AJ pops in slightly agitated.

"Really?" Luna asks as her smile widens. "Me too!!" She laughs as she pulls a folded piece of paper from her back pocket. "What 'cha got?" She asks as she plops down beside him on one of the couches.

Sitting together, they go over their notes. Some things match up but a lot don't.

"No Seattle Tribute?" AJ asks with disappointment.

"Oooh.... We're still doing something." Luna reassures him. "Do you guys know who Tobi Vale is or who Andrew Wood was?" Luna asks including everyone in their conversation now.

Sam and Ashley do. That's it.

"Okay guys.... Roll up. It's story time." She says.

Staying in place, Luna digs Colson's Sponge Bob case out from in between the couch cushions behind her. His deep voice shouting THAT'S WHERE THE FUCK THAT WENT.

"I shoved it up there last week because of Case.... How awesome would that've been if she'd opened it?" Luna shrugs as she shakes her head at herself. "Total fucking win....." Sighing as she rolls her eyes and continues on. "Anyway... So, THIS is what I'm thinking.... Hold on, gimme a sec."

Firing up a joint, Luna hands it to AJ before lighting another and sending it across to Sam on the other couch. Left and Right. Sparking another for herself to camp on for a moment, she explains exactly What She Wants To Do and Why.

Everyone agreeing that It's A MUCH More Plausible Idea. Fully burnt they head off of The Bus towards the nightclub to rehearse. If it plays out as expected it'll be a fun and sweet tribute. Carrying a harsh kick to the cunt. Only those who are aware of Luna's feelings knowing EXACTLY what she's saying.

Colson drops his arm around Sam's shoulder and plops a kiss on top of her head as they head across the parking lot. She looks up at him like What The Fuck Are You Doin'.

"Thanks for taking care of those sheets yesterday." He says looking down at her with a smile.

"OH. You're welcome." She answers as his arm slips off of her.

Heading to catch up with Luna, Colson turns to shoot Sam another grateful smile. It's a nice scene, considering Sam really didn't care for Colson or think he was good enough for Luna when she first met him. Her opinion slowly changing.

---------------------------------------------------

Word Limit (1 of 3)

To be continued.....

❇Writer's Note: Feel free to share the WHOLE chapter with whomever 😘

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #344: Rouge Rose (Sonic X Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

Shadow: (Completely Speechless of what he's seeing right in front of him)........

Rouge: (Wearing Amy's Red Dress) So? (Poses Towards Shadow) How do I look?

Shadow: ..............Rouge, why are you wearing Amy's dress?

Rouge: Oh? You mean this cute thing? Funny story, actually. When I was at the Dry Cleaners, I might've grabbed it by mistake.

Shadow: So I'm guessing the girl has your usual spy suit now...

Rouge: (Shrugged) Pretty much. But I'm not complaining. I'm actually starting like this dress. That girl sure does have some taste in fashion senses....For the most part at least.

Peach: (From a Distance) Shadow sweetie! Mommy's ready for our day together!

Shadow: (Yell towards the direction distant to where Peach is from) I'll be right there!

Rouge: (Smiles Teasingly at Shadow) D'awww~ Is the Ultimate Lifeform spending quality with his Mommy Dearest today?

Shadow: (Sigh while Blushing a little and looking away) More or less. I didn't have anything else better to do so why not?

Rouge: (Giggles Softly) I guess you really are a Momma's Boy after all~

Shadow: ('Hmph') Whatever. I'll be taking my leave out. I can't keep my mother- I mean....The Princess waiting....

Rouge: Alrighty then. Have fun on your date with your mom, Shadow the Hedgehog~

Shadow: ('Sigh') Likewise I suppose....(Teleported his way out of the room)

Rouge: ('Sigh Satisfyingly') That Stubborn Hedgehog is always fun to tease sometimes. Now then....(Starts Smirking) Let's see if I could pay a certain Knucklehead a visit.....

Angel Island.......

Knuckles: (Standing Still While Guarding the Master Emerald Behind him) ('Sigh') You know, I can't believe I'm actually saying this....But this might be even more boring than I thought. I mean seriously, I like Guarding the Emerald as much as the next guy, but nothing rarely happens here anymore. Hmmmmm......I guess wouldn't hurt to go down and visit some-

???: Oh Knuckie!~

Knuckles: (Sighs Again and begins to turn around once he heard of very familiar voice) What do you now, Rou-uuuuuuge....(Eyes Widened from what he's seeing right now)...What the hell am I looking at right now?

Rouge: You like?~ (Make her ways towards where Knuckles is standing) It's this cute red dress Amy usually wears. (Does Poses in front of Knuckles) Pretty cute, huh?~

Knuckles: ......You look a lot more Amy-like if anything?

Rouge: Hmmmm....."Amy-Like" huh?

Knuckles: Yeah. I mean, you don't look bad or anything. You just look a little more like how Amy usually looks.

Rouge: (Thought a bit hard on Knuckles' thoughts on the dress before Shrugging completely) Eh. I can live with that.

Knuckles: (Raised an Eyebrow) Seriously?

Rouge: Yep. I mean it's the most unusual compliant for a lady like myself, to ever be heard from anyone before...but I suppose I'll take it as such.....For now at least~ (Winked at Knuckles)

Knuckles: (Groans once he Blushes) So are you here and try to steal the Master Emerald or....?

Rouge: Wellllllll.....I thought about doing so at first, but I decided not to since you were so humble enough to compliant me today.

Knuckles: (Raised in Eyebrow in Confusion) So.......that's it, then? You're not gonna try any sneaky tactics to try and steal it or anything?

Rouge: Yep. In fact, If you want my real reason of coming here, it's cause I wanna visit my favorite Knucklehead for today.

Knuckles: .......Why?

Rouge: To see your reaction on the dress I'm wearing. (Teasing Smirks starts Growing a bit larger) And judging by your face, I can tell you're liking this~

Knuckles: (Blushes Grew Brighter as he Looks away from Rouge) Remind me why I had to put up with you again.....

Rouge: Oho the answer's quite simple, Knuckie~ Because deep down, I knew you like being around me. Especially when you try oh so hard to deny that theory~ (Gives Knuckles a kiss on the cheek before jumping away from an angry and very flustered Echidna)

Knuckles: Rahhhhh!! What the Hell, Bat Girl?!!!! Is this "Make Knuckles Flustered Day" or something?!

Rouge: Sorry, Knuckie!~ But as much as I would love to tease you some more, I've got plans for the rest of the night. That is....unless you wanna join me-

Knuckles: No!

Rouge: (Shrugged) Suit yourself. (Blows a Kiss into Knuckles' Direction before flying off) Ciao~

Knuckles: (Sigh Heavily while Pinching his noses) I'll never understand that woman....... (Shrugged) But I guess that what happens when you....fall for someone like her and stuff....(Shakes his head vigorously while Groaning once more) What am I even saying right? There is no way in hell I could ever be interested in some pity Treasure Thief!...................... Could I?.....

Bonus

The Next Day at the Dry Cleaners......

Amy: (Holding onto Rouge's Spy Suit) Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually gonna miss this spy suit....('Sigh') Oh well. Fun while it-

Rouge: (Walking Towards Amy) Been a while, Amy.

Amy: Oh hey, Rouge. (Noticed Rouge holding on to her dress) I see you already got my dress too, huh? Don't worry, I'm actually here to bring this back to you.

Rouge: What a coincidence? I was planning on doing the same.

Amy: Really now?

Rouge: Yep..........

Amy: Oh. Cool.

Rouge: .......Soooooo..... I heard you tried out my suit for the day. (Smirks Playfully towards Amy) Is that true?

Amy: (Starts Blushing) I-I-I-I can explain-

Rouge: (Giggles Softly) Relax, Rose. I'm not upset or anything. Just curious is all. But If it makes you feel any better, I tried out your dress as well.

Amy: (Very Surprised) Oh my gosh! Really?!

Rouge: Yep. And I must say, it was pretty nice to wear something like this every once and a while, you know?

Amy: ('Sigh in a bit of Relief') I could say the same about your suit.

Rouge: (A bit Surprised) Wait. You.... actually like wearing my suit?

Amy: Yeah. I mean...... It was pretty weird to wear it at first, but i eventually started to enjoy wearing it moments later. (Smiles Dreamingly) Plus, My Darling Sonic even told me it looks good on meeeeeeee~

Rouge: (Smirks Playfully) Interesting. And now that you mentioned it, I was at Angel Island the other day, showing this to Knuckie. And he liked it too.

Amy: (Eyes Widened) A-Are you serious? You're not making this up right? Knuckles actually like my dress you were wearing?

Rouge: Yep. I guess the charm of your dress and my beauty finally rubbed off on him that day~

Amy: (Rolled her Eyes) (That sounds too good to be true honestly.....)

Rouge: Hey, Amy?

Amy: Hm?

Rouge: This might be the boldest thing I ever say, but how would you like to keep the spy suit as your own?

Amy: (Eyes Widened) H-Hold the Phone! You really want me to keep this? I-I mean, A-Are you even sure?

Rouge: (Simply Nodded) Yeah. Pretty sure that I am. You just told me that you like wearing it so....(Shrugged) why not?

Amy: Aww~ Rouge, Thank you! And hey, you're more than welcome to keep the dress too.

Rouge: (A Bit Surprised) You really mean that?

Amy: (Happily Nodded) Yep! I can already tell it looks great on you anyways. So it's basically a win-win for the both of us, you know?

Rouge: (Smiles Softly) You know something? You're actually not half bad, Rose.

Amy: (Smiles Brightly) Likewise, Rouge the Bat. Likewise.

@keyenuta

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@chompycroc

@scribblehooves

@ma-lemons

@ink-correctsmashbrosbloo

[theresnourieandme]

Some things are meant to be.

A/N: hey everybody! I'm back. So, this is my first Ambi so don't judge XD. First part of a three shots called "Can't help falling in love". Also, happy birthday Andi <3

dedicated to: @heart-eyes-kippen

Andi would have given anything to avoid accompanying him. To avoid accompanying TJ on that date of his, which he's been talking about continuously for a week now. Instead, she was there, with her hands on the steering wheel watching the road, while her best friend was giving her directions to the new diner, where the aforementioned appointment would be held.

"Turn right," TJ said next to her, his eyes on his smartphone screen. His hair was gel-free after a long time - and honestly Andi thought it was better that way - and his athletic physique was perfectly wrapped in jeans and a simple blue shirt, never used.

"TJ, for the thousandth time: I know where it is." The notes of 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' began to fill the passenger compartment and Andi began tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. TJ gave her such a worried look that it made her worry - she had never seen him like that. "What's going on?" she asked then, lowering the volume of the radio.

Andi didn't need any answers, though. She had known TJ since they were children, and one of the things she was certain of was his body language. When he had a gigantic crush on someone, he always tried to touch their hand, or hug them for no apparent reason. When he was very nervous, the nerves in his shoulders stiffened and his breathing was slower and heavier. And now his shoulders were strained, his breath irregular.

"The appointment could go wrong," muttered TJ, so softly that Andi could barely hear him. " What if it's really bad?" he continued, slightly louder.

Andi smiled at him for a moment before returning her attention to the busy road. "It will be fine, you'll see. I don't know..." She stopped talking, gesturing for a moment in search of his name, which went out of her head.

"Cyrus," TJ completed, hinting at a smile pulled by the grimace painted on his friend's face.

"I don't know Cyrus," she said. "but I'm sure he's a very special guy and he's really very lucky to go out with you."

TJ smiled through the window reflection, his eyes pointed at the sidewalk chalk darting to their right. "Thank you," he said softly. Andi knew it was very important for TJ to feel comfortable, and she would do anything to make him happy, even punch a Reed with a gun.

The diner's sign, the Spoon, appeared in front of them, and TJ settled in the seat. Andi tried to calm him down with some pats on his shoulder, but almost without success. When they were close enough, TJ asked her to pull over, and when she shut down the engine, he breathed out an agitated sigh. "How do I look?" he asked.

The moor glanced at him with a smug look. "Decent," she said, trying to sound as casual as possible. TJ was visibly unhappy with that answer, and Andi smiled softly. "If you only knew how beautiful you are..." she corrected herself then.

He smiled and was about to get out before stopping and glancing at her gratefully. "Thank you," he said, in a more serious tone.

Andi raised both thumbs in his direction with a smile. He got out of the car, still hesitant but certainly less agitated than he was a few minutes before. He closed the door with a small thud and Andi watched him approach the diner and enter.

She breathed a sigh of relief, finally free from TJ's anxiety. In fact, she was still very worried about her friend's date, but she was confident about the idea of Cyrus that she had been making up in her mind that week.

When she left for Buffy's house, the sky was fading from a bright red at the horizon to a light orange, to a light blue that looked timidly on blue. Cars were flowing slowly down the lane, and Andi found herself bottled in her small personal traffic, which seemed to follow her wherever she went. She then took advantage of the situation by taking a peek at her phone screen.

Sk8r boi <33: the appointment is going great! and Cyrus complimented me for the shirt uwu <3

Andi smiled at the message and responded, taking a quick glance at the still-standing cars in front of her. "Then he has good taste ;D" answered, writing with one hand.

Party queen <33: where are you?

"In traffic -_-" she replied. Her eyebrows frowned slightly when she noticed a message from Jonah, who she hadn't heard in a while.

beef <3: Hey, andiman, I have a person to introduce you to.

Andi replied that she was supposed to meet with Buffy, but that they had no specific plans. Jonah, as usual, answered her in a second.

beef <3: Well, let's meet at the music store!

Finally, the cars in line began to move and Andi was able to get rid of the traffic. She stopped the car in front of her best friend's house, got off quickly and rang the doorbell. A Buffy in a basketball tracksuit opened her the door with a smile and invited her in.

"Let's go to the music store," Andi said.

Buffy frowned. "Why?"

Andi twisted her hands. "Jonah invited us."

"Come on, don't tell me you feel something for him again!" exclaimed Buffy, walking away from the door to head to the room to change.

Andi walked in without giving too much notice - only because she had known Buffy for twelve years, and they shared pretty much everything - and she closed the door behind her. She followed her friend to the blue-walled room, only to stop at the doorway. "No!" she exclaimed then, leaning on the jamb. "We haven't seen him in a long time, and he told me he wants to introduce me to someone."

Although Buffy turned around and shrugged her shoulders as she opted for a pair of denim jeans and a short, pink long-sleeved sweatshirt, Andi was able to imagine her rolling her eyes. "When will you realize it's just an excuse to see you?"

"What's wrong with that? Now we hardly ever see each other since he signed that contract with the record company, and it shouldn't be a problem to see us as friends. Friends, and nothing more."

"If you say so," Buffy concluded with a sigh. Then she turned to her and changed the topic in a second. She kept the outfit she had chosen for the hangers and held it on her as if she were wearing it. "What do you think?"

"Since when do you really care of what you wear?" Buffy frowned slightly, hinting at a bold smile, while Andi rethought Buffy's behavior over time and in various situations. "Oh, yes! When there's a boy!" she exclaimed shortly afterwards. Buffy avoided looking her in the eye, and that was the definitive confirmation of Andi's theory. "Ah-ah! What's his name? Is he our age? Do I know him?" asked Andi, trying to breathe in the meantime. "Does he play basketball? Is he friends with TJ? How did you meet him?"

"Do you want me to answer all the questions?"

"I know you remember them, so... Yes, please."

Buffy sighed and sat on the bed, abandoning her clothes and losing all the interest she could have towards them. "Marty, he's our age, you don't know him, he doesn't play basketball and he's not friends with TJ. I've met him around."

"'Around' sounds a little vague, huh?"

Buffy hinted at a smile and rolled her eyes. "At the studio."

"The dance one?!" asked Andi, puzzled, settling on the bed next to her friend. She'd never heard of a guy at Buffy's studio, but maybe he was a new entry.

"He doesn't dance," Buffy added, predicting her friend's question. "He's our new photographer."

"The photographer, huh?" asked Andi, raising her eyebrows and elbowing Buffy, sitting next to her.

She smiled and got up. "Shall we go?"

-

When the music store bell rang over their heads, Andi noticed Jonah among the people still walking around the store. Her father greeted her with a smile behind the counter as he spoke to some customers, and also greeted Buffy with a hand gesture.

Jonah was sitting on one of the sofas, talking to a blonde girl, long hair gathered in a half-chignon. The movements were graceful and all of her indicated a good education and perfect parents. The posture was impeccably straight, and the legs crumpled gently were smooth and well-groomed. A short peach dress that fell to her knees wrapped her slender body, illuminating her fairly light complexion. Two parallel black bands brought out her breasts, slightly visible from her heart-shaped neckline. Everything about her made Andi ashamed of those miserable jeans, accompanied by a striped short-sleeved shirt, which she chose to go out that night.

Only when they approached, Andi also noticed the blue and clear eyes like the sky of a beautiful summer morning, and the impeccable makeup of a light pink, that matched the dress.

"Hey, Andi! Buffy!" exclaimed Jonah, rising to his feet. He had grown a lot since they had last seen each other and if you could have called him cute before, he was now gorgeous to say the least: the face was cleaner, and less childish; the hair pulled up with the gel was the same length, but seemed more natural. The style was more or less always the same as the younger Jonah Beck, but much more sophisticated. In fact, the jeans were tighter, and the white background shirt featured the cover of the most famous Rolling Stones album. "How are you?" he asked, after hugging both of them.

"Well, I'd say. The season is about to begin and I hope to win this one too," Buffy boasted at that point.

Jonah chuckled, perhaps thinking back to all the times he had been beaten by Buffy in a sport. "I understand. Last season I came to see you once or twice and you were fantastic!"

"The album, on the other hand? I know the first one will come out soon," Andi said, just to secure herself a place in the conversation.

Jonah shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think I can reveal much by contract, but I can assure you that there are both moments when I have felt something," he joked, in memory of her old joke made in his presence.

Buffy and Andi chuckled, and all three of them sat down, who in the armchairs, who on the couch next to the beautiful stranger.

"Um, I don't think I know you," Buffy pointed out, addressing the blonde in front of her. "I'm Buffy Driscoll."

"Amber," she said, holding out her hand. Buffy squeezed it and Andi did the same immediately after.

"Andi Mack, nice to meet you," she added with a smile. Perhaps it was an impression of her, but their handshake lasted slightly longer than expected, and even the blonde's gaze remained on her for too long before moving towards Buffy.

"You play basketball, if I understood correctly." Buffy frowned, and Amber gestured gracefully toward Jonah. "Jonah often talks about all of you."

Buffy nodded. "Yes, I'm on a girls' team."

"She played with TJ," Jonah added soon after. "and she entered Jefferson's history as the first girl on the boys' basketball team and as the founder and coach of the girls' team."

Andi knew Buffy so well that she would bet everything on the fact that her friend was blushing for flattery now, but none of the presents seemed to notice. "And you, on the other hand? What do you do in your life? And how do you know Jonah?" asked Buffy to Amber.

"We were together for a while, but we were friends even after the breakup. Let's just say I'm her make-up artist for concerts and interviews."

"Oh, a make-up artist!" exclaimed Andi at that time, before Buffy could ask more questions. "My mother is, too. She owns Cloud Ten."

"Uh, I know that place!" she exclaimed, digging her legs and assuming a more decomposed posture. "That's where I get the makeup products. Congratulations to your mother, her products are great!"

She blushed slightly, and said she would deliver the message. Luckily, Jonah spoke. "Andi, have you received any offers? I turned over the link of your video to my manager, but he didn't let me know anything anymore."

She shook her head in response and then added that no, she had not yet been contacted by anyone, but that she had now reached one million views on YouTube.

"It's docious-magocious!" exclaimed Jonah, perhaps reflexively.

Buffy burst out laughing loudly, so loud that many in the store turned to throw glances of disapproval. "Sorry," he said through tears, when she finished laughing. "It was so much that I didn't hear that expression, and it made me a strange effect."

"Um, we noticed," Andi replied wryly, to which Buffy glanced at her as if to say 'Really, Andi? Is that what you wanna say after docious-magocious?'.

"Buffy, can I talk to you in private?" asked Jonah at that point, perhaps trying to get Andi out of trouble.

"Yes, but if it's Natalie, I don't want to know what happened to her."

"It's Natalie, but nothing happened to her."

Buffy rolled her eyes and left the place near Andi empty. Before she left, taken by her wrist by Jonah, she pointed her finger at Andi and said, "It's not over, Mack!"

Amber smiled at her. "Anyway."

Andi settled down well to look at those blue, almost hypnotic eyes. Not knowing how well it would end, she smiled back. "Anyway."

[elizapbrooke]

A discovery of pancakes

This is my newsletter from Friday, May 22. You can sign up here.

I am disappointed to announce that the bird call I thought belonged to an owl comes, in fact, from a mourning dove. “One of the most abundant and widespread of all North American birds,” Wikipedia says. It’s an embarrassing but maybe understandable mistake. I figured this owl was out during the day because it was a creature of New York like the rest of us, its circadian rhythm all fucked up by early morning garbage trucks and the blue glow of the Chase Bank across the street. The mourning dove’s coo is low and melancholy, a distinctive series of five notes. I’d certainly forgive you for thinking it’s a hoot. As I was listening to mourning dove calls on my computer and having this horrible realization, one landed on the fire escape and startled me with the loudest, most intimate rendition of their song I’d ever heard. It may as well have pressed its beak up against the glass. (I assume it thought there was a dove in the apartment.) I crept over to the window to confirm with my eyeballs what AllAboutBirds.org had already told me, and, yep, there it was. It felt so special to have a mystery owl in the neighborhood, but I guess doves are lovely birds too, with their plushy throats and elegantly tapered tail feathers. Anyway, my friend Sid tells me he’s heard owls in Gowanus, so I’m keeping my hopes up. This week I published a story for Curbed detailing the history and recent evolution of the home office. As I was fact checking it, I realized I’d accidentally talked to ten hundred sources, so please do enjoy the fruits of my labor. I’m not here to talk about home offices, though. A few weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and discovered I’d been brainstorming pitches in my sleep. I was thrilled. On account of pandemic depression and seeing very little of the outside world, I’ve really been struggling to come up with story concepts, which is problematic because that’s my job. Most of my dream pitches evaporated upon waking, but I managed to hold onto one, and in my sleepy haze I thought it was possibly the greatest idea I’d ever had. It was: PANCAKES ARE HAVING A MOMENT IN QUARANTINE. I decided I’d email the New York Times first thing in the morning. In the light of day, I realized that there wasn’t really a story there. When you’re writing a trend piece, you want to be able to point to, I don’t know, at least four really solid examples from the public sphere. My evidence was:

Alex and I had made pancakes recently

We were planning to make them again

I’d recently discussed pancakes with Molly and Vivian

I’d heard you can make pancakes from sourdough starter discard (which actually does speak to the zeitgeist)

But here’s the thing. Pancakes are a great topic for a newsletter. So here is my pancake article.

***

I’ve always liked the look of a big stack of pancakes, but I never really got why people were so into eating them. I like a breakfast that is hyper-functional and maximally filling. Because I’m an aging hippie, my preferred breakfast is a double-sized bowl of Ezekiel cereal, which tastes like delicious cardboard and fulfills 42% of your daily fiber needs. Pancakes, like pastries, always struck me as glamorous but pointless. I was even somewhat distrustful of my mom’s pancakes, which are dense and nutty, not sweet at all. Her recipe came from a “chiropractor/health nut in San Diego about 31 years ago” and involves grinding your own flour from winter wheat berries, groats, rye, brown rice, and millet. I love them, but a family pancake breakfast still makes me feel very out of control. This all changed a few weeks ago when Alex and I decided to make pancakes for dinner. All I can say is that quarantine has a way of melting away the rigid little fucks you used to give. For once, the chaos I associate with pancakes sounded fun and freeing. Also we’ve been watching a ton of Parks & Rec, and I was feeling inspired by Leslie’s diet of waffles and whipped cream. We made buttermilk pancakes, extra fluffy ones that require you to whip the egg whites on their own for several minutes before folding them into the batter. Two with banana chunks, two with bits of frozen peaches, two blueberry, one bonus plain for me. I had mine without anything on top, enjoying the choking feeling of eating so much cakey carb. It felt like a hug. When I saw my friend Todd post a gorgeous stack of pancakes on Instagram, I asked him if he had any theories about why they’re such a good quarantine food. At first he thought I was trolling him, but when I told him I was dead serious, here’s what he said: “What I love about pancakes right now is that they feel both ordinary and radical at the same time. Ordinary because they are nostalgic, all-American, homey, comfortable, and approachable. Anyone can make them. But there’s also something really subversive about a stack of pancakes right now—the gluten, the non-plant-based butter and eggs, eating breakfast when Goop tells us we should be intermittent fasting, so forth. Eating pancakes in the time of coronavirus brings into focus how overwhelming wellness culture has become in recent years—celery juice and collagen smoothies will never, ever, ever beat a big, buttery, syrupy stack of flapjacks.” I would agree. Given my dedication to breakfast foods that involve sprouted beans—which predates our wellness moment but was certainly bolstered by it—I definitely find pancakes subversive. They make me feel nostalgic, too, but not for anything I’ve personally experienced. For weekends in high school that I spent ensconced in the television world of Gilmore Girls, maybe, where breakfast at Luke’s Diner is a comfortable routine. As I continued my journey into pancake reportage, I sought out the perspective of Sarah Jampel, an editor at Bon Appetit. While pancakes made from sourdough discard have their fans, Sarah is not particularly one of them. She’s also team waffle. I don’t really have a horse in the pancake/waffle debate, but Sarah makes a compelling case. “I have thought a lot about pancakes,” she emailed back when I asked if she had anything to say about the topic. “And yes, I have made them since isolation started—mostly because I'm ‘every woman’ and my fridge is overflowing with sourdough discard. ‘Put it in pancakes,’ I thought. The issue is that I need to add more flour (as well as butter or oil and leaveners) to sourdough discard to turn it into pancakes, so I ultimately end up using more ingredients for the sole purpose of not throwing some stuff into the trash or compost (but really, the trash). And even though pancakes sound nice in theory—why not start the day with a hot breakfast instead of the usual routine, eating a Clif bar with one hand while the other clings bare to the subway pole (huge sigh of nostalgia)?—in actuality they're inferior waffles. Unless you take care with your pancakes—loading them with lots of butter and separating the egg yolks and whites (this recipe's my fave)—they're too mono-textured.” Never fear: Alex and I loaded ours with an alarming amount of butter. I suppose it is to be expected that when you go out hunting for pancake insights, you come back with waffle testimonials. When I asked Alex’s high school friends to weigh in on the appeal of pancakes during a global shutdown, Nico said, “Waffles are the superior carb. They provide greater textural variety and are a better delivery vessel for condiments.” (Dylan has been eating toast all quarantine, and Dan “didn’t understand the question” because the only god he acknowledges is the Joy of Cooking’s pancake recipe.) My friend Molly has been eating a lot of savory pancakes under quarantine, for breakfast or lunch. She sautées a bunch of garlic and kale in olive oil, adding scallions at the last minute, and then sets the vegetables aside in a bowl. In goes the Bisquick, and she adds the kale mix on top of the pancakes as they cook; after a minute, she tops the pancake with shredded white cheddar so that when she flips it, the cheese turns crispy. She’ll eat that with a runny egg or garlic yogurt. I can’t wait to see her again so she can make one for me. Pancakes are one of the few foods that Molly has consistently been able to stomach during this period of immense anxiety. They have a strong positive association for her: in pre-corona times, she would make savory pancakes after playing soccer on Saturday mornings. Those games are one of the things she misses most right now. We talked on the phone while she made her daily trip outside to juggle a soccer ball. Molly likes to chat with friends during these breaks because bouncing a ball on your feet benefits from loose attention. “Cooking a pancake is similar,” she said. “It requires some focus but it’s not that hard. You don’t really need to cut anything. You just watch it.” Alex always says that cooking is meditative for him. I would respectfully disagree—to me, it feels more like hurtling down a mogul course—but I can see it with pancakes. You’re just systematically waiting and flipping, waiting and flipping. After making buttermilk pancakes, we progressed to Sqirl’s buckwheat pancakes for lunch on a Sunday. I can’t find the recipe online, but here’s a photo. For those who are lucky enough to have dodged my Sqirl talk thus far, it’s a phenomenal, semi-healthy breakfast and lunch spot in Silver Lake. Every time I’m in LA, I badger my companions into going right when it opens at 8 a.m. so we’re sure to get a table. When I was there to write about Dax Shepard in November, I high-tailed it to Sqirl right after our interview and embarrassed myself in front of the staff by inhaling bits of a particularly seedy cookie and having a loud coughing fit, after which I went around the corner to die in private. Alex and I thought we had all the requisite ingredients for Sqirl’s buckwheat pancakes, other than cactus flour, but the recipe calls for corn flour and it turns out cornmeal isn’t the same thing. We subbed in whole wheat, so they weren’t really Sqirlcakes, but they were still tasty in a restrained, earthy way. Alex convinced me to try one with raspberry jam, which I reluctantly admit was a great pairing. A week or two later, we made them again. I wasn’t really hungry because it was 2 p.m. and I’d already eaten lunch—Alex had just gotten up—but I pledged to eat my portion cold out of the fridge. Alex thought this was insane, but he sometimes forgets that I like my food a little squidgy. We went grocery shopping the next morning, which was as much of a bitch as it always is right now. Even though we’ve gotten the process down to a science, it still takes three hours from start to finish, with significant angst on my part about the cleanliness of the inbound goods. Finally everything was put away, and Alex headed off to take a shower. I was agitated and crazy hungry. I scrubbed my hands one more time, pulled the pancakes out of the fridge, and promptly dropped one on the floor while trying to get it into my mouth. I ate the rest in big, angry bites, one after another, standing in the middle of the kitchen. I didn’t want to sit down in my outdoor clothes. The pancakes were perfect, though. A shot of sweet, comforting carb straight to the heart.

[docplop]

I have bipolar type 2, so I think that may have had something to do with it. The delusions were severe. It started with thinking I was being group stalked. I worked for a local taxi company and I thought people who worked for Uber were following me and deliberately making my life a living hell. It's difficult for me to remember the exact reasons I believed this, but it was a belief I had for a pretty long time. One day after this delusion had developed quite a bit, I started believing that the people following me were omniscient. I ran away from my city, I drove to my dad's house which is about 3 hours away. While there, I felt like my dad was initiating me into a secret society that could use magic to do almost anything. We were watching the Daily Show and I believed I had a conversation with Jon Stewart through the TV. I couldn't find the cameras on my end so I thought it was more of the magic that I was being introduced to. After a while I went to the guest bedroom where when I looked out the window, I thought of a thunderstorm, and then suddenly lightning started but striking pretty rapidly. I believed I created the storm from my anxiety. I lay down, closed my eyes and tossed and turned all night with. no sleep. The next morning, I got up before my dad, talked to my grandma, who also lived there, and left to go back to my home city. But when I left, I got side tracked. I had the radio tuned to A.M. talk stations and I believed that the radio was communicating directly to me. I got the wind idea to just start driving aimlessly, believing it would take me somewhere meaningful. I heard songs on the radio from some of my favorite artists from the 90s, but they were versions I had never heard with lyrics that spoke to me like never before. I believed it was Jesus talking to me. I decided to drive to California (from Virginia), and started heading west. I saw a sign outside of a farm house that said "Longview", and having been a huge Greenday fan as a kid, I thought I should stop there. I pulled up to this big house on a beautiful property, and thought, "I'm home!" Or rather it would be my home some day. The grass had recently been mowed. I took off my shoes and walked around the property in pure Bliss longing for this house to be my home. I picked a peach off of a tree out front and to this day it was the best peach I've ever had. The house had a pool with a cabana next to it. On either side of the pool, there were three rubber snakes on each side. I had all kinds of crazy theories about the snakes. I walked over to the cabana, and inside was full of relics from my childhood. It dawned on me that I hadn't earned my stay at such a beautiful sanctuary, so I got my shoes and walked back to my car. I looked up at the sky which had turned gold and purple and all kinds of colors in between. I saw planes overhead, and thought, "the only thing keeping me from being able to fly like those planes is my belief in gravity. Someday I'll fly.".

As I drove, I saw numerous lights in the sky that I believed were alien space crafts abducting people all over the map. I started following signs that had seemingly significant names and numbers on them. I passed under a giant overpass, and when I say giant, I mean like it was an overpass for humongous cars driven by 30 foot tall giants. Suddenly I thought I had passed through a dimensional gate and was going to meet these giant people. I found a row of normal sized townhouses and decided to ask where I was ( my phone lost all service, including GPS). There was a chair next to the road that was the size off a small house. I knocked on a few doors, but nobody answered. So I decided to press on.

Being in giant land, I thought that maybe I belonged there, so I started driving down wooded roads looking for my new home. It was night time by this point, and the radio was sending me messages more than ever. I thought the late Dave Brocky of Gwar fame was telling me to find his house. I drove up to a house that had a light on in the upstairs room. I parked, and when I got out of my car, a spotlight shined down on me. I looked over too my right, and a light came on under a newly finished porch. I walked over to it, and when I got there a green light turned on by a staircase, so I decided to climb the stairs. Another light came on at the top of the stairs over by a door to what looked like someone's living room. I called out, "Dave?" As I knocked on the screen door. A thin man with no hair walked out from behind a counter carrying a glass of red wine and in a polite English accent said, "I think you have the wrong house, mate.".

I apologized for the disturbance and ran back to my car and drove away.

After that the memories are a little fuzzy, but I spent most of the night driving aimlessly through George Washington National Forest. I parked at one point and decided I wanted to sleep under the stars. I grabbed a jacket from my trunk and some clothes I fashioned into a pillow and lay down in the grass and started stargazing. I remember seeing two sets of three stars in triangular formation moving around in the sky. I was pretty sure they were two triangular UFOs floating silently above me. The sky was beautiful, but I felt vulnerable, so I got back in my car and continued driving aimlessly.

After a few more hours and a few more attempts at finding Dave Brocky (who, again, was already dead at the time, and it's not like I knew him personally) I was extremely thirsty, and was looking for some water. I found a quaint little church, and thought, "Perfect! I bet they have a spickett somewhere outside.". When I got out of the car, I heard what sounded like huge amounts of water flowing through what I imagined to be a giant organism. I wondered if I had been abducted by one of the UFOs that I saw and was on some kind of holodeck. I walked over to the church and sure enough found a spickett. I had a beer mug in my backseat that someone had given me, so I grabbed it and filled it with water from the spickett. The water was warm and it tasted like how I imagined female ejaculant to taste. It was salty, cloudy and viscous. I spit it out and yelled," What the fuck?!"

I got back in my car and drove without any kind of destination in mind until the sun started to rise. Having no idea where I was, I started looking for a gas station so I could get some gas and a drink. I ended up in a small mountain town and found a gas station who's sign read "Liberty". I wanted to get a beer to calm my nerves and hope for some sleep, but they wouldn't sell it to me. I asked for a cup for some water, and filled it up at a sink by the coffee maker. The water that came out was cloudy, salty, and viscous just like the water from the church spickett. At this point I was sure I was on an alien space craft, and was in some kind of simulation. Everyone I saw seemed to be both staring at me, and evading eye contact at the same time. I left the gas station and continued my aimless drive.

As the sun rose above the horizon, I marvelled at the beauty of the Appalachian mountains. I found my way to Rte 66 and started seeing signs for towns that sounded familiar. I got off rte 66 at a stop where I found a Starbucks. Still thinking I was in a simulation on an alien ship, I thought everyone I saw was a lizard person in disguise. Terrified, I ordered a cup of tea that was supposed to be infused with peach. The tea tasted like it was the same salty, viscous water as before but with some other flavors. I pulled the tea bag out and thought I saw little pieces of meat in it and assumed it was human meat. Trying to not react, I looked at my phone and finally started to get service again. I called my girlfriend and told her what had been happening to me. I was terrified. I was sure that there were people or aliens or something monitoring my every move. The only option I had was to trust that I was actually talking to my girlfriend. There were many phonecalls made between my girlfriend and one of her friends that we figured out lived near where I had ended up.

I want to wrap up this story now.

My girlfriend figured out my location. She told me to stay put and that she'd come get me. Miraculously she found me a few hours later and took me to her friend's house. When we got there, her friend told me I could sit in her kids' backyard tent while they figured out what to do. Before getting in the tent, I looked into the front window and thought I saw one of my ex girlfriends inside talking to my girlfriend and her friend. This scared the shit out of me, because that ex was a sociopath and couldn't figure why she'd be there. I got in the tent, and after a few minutes I started hearing some kind of liquid being thrown onto the tent. I assumed it was my ex throwing gasoline on the tent and that she was going to burn me alive in the tent. I freaked out and broke the zipper to the front flap while trying to escape. When I got out there was nobody there. My girlfriend and her friend invited me in for dinner and an Ativan. This calmed me down and we spent the night there. The whole time I was there, though, I heard that rushing water that I first started hearing by the church. I still thought I was on an alien ship. The following morning I was driven to a hospital where I was admitted to a psych ward for several days. The whole time I was there, I believed I was being kept away from Earth where there was a global Holocaust being perpetrated by the aliens. I believed they were replacing everyone on Earth. I probably should have spent a lot more time in the psych ward, but was released about a week later with a new prescription for anti psychotics. I've been taking them ever since. For probably a year after this, I was still unsure about everything in my reality, and to this day (6 years later) I still have fleeting doubts. I have wanted to write this experience into a book ever since, but haven't had the motivation or focus to do so, as my ADHD is still bad, and haven't been able to structure what needs to be told. This is probably the longest version I've written thus far, and still feel like I'm not doing the experience justice. Thanks for reading, if you've made it this far. Feel free to ask me any questions.

[gogoseabrook]

1000th post!🎉🎉🎉

We got there! We did it! 

I want to say thanks to everyone in the fandom for making it such a welcoming space and making me want to make a thousand posts here. I wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for how awesome you all are. This really is a family more than a fandom and I love everyone for that 💖

And all the questions I received up until now are right here below the read more, so let’s just jump into it:

From @kokinu09: F*ck, Marry, Kill: Zed, Addison, Bucky 😂

You would choose this for me!

Okay, so...first off this is an incredibly weird thing for me to do, but I'll try my best 😂😅 I am also going to use the whole 'Bed, Wed, Behead' rhyme because...well, PG blog trying to avoid that awful profanity (I kid, but y'know how it goes around here 😂) so:

Bed: I guess based on character *age* I'd have to go with Bucky, and actor age too, as I believe of the 3 available Bucky is the only one not supposed to be like...under the age of consent. And Trevor is the only one in his 20's of the bunch so...yeah 😂😂

Wed: ...I guess Addison? Is there a rule we have to stay married? If not, a quick an easy annulment and, if we do, it'll be a marriage of convenience and we'll both do our own thing without caring too much. A nice easy solution 😅

Behead: I mean...some hc’s are that zombies can detach body parts, right? So that means in theory you could remove the head and nothing bad would happen? 😂 even just kill...zombies are technically undead as is, so I wouldn't have to do anything. Long live loopholes! 😂😂

From @kokinu09:  Favorite character in Mario Cart /Kart:

I...don't tend to play all that much, it's been quite a while since my last foray....but if I remember right I tended to go with Peach, Waluigi or Yoshi. Idk why, but those names stick out to me as memorable 😂

From @keepswingin​:  How old are you/when is your birthday (I am so interested by peoples ages because I enjoy guessing and I already guessed that you’re older than me soooo maybe 22/23ish?)

I am 22 and my birthday is in early October 😊 You were right on the money with that guess!

From @keepswingin​:  What is your favorite thing to write (fluff angst drama, etc)

Ooooh, that’s a tough one! Truthfully I enjoy writing all genres, and different styles too because part of what I love most about writing is improving my ability, which is why I love feedback so much (not so subtle hint that I’m always up for critique here 😂), and I think one of the best ways to improve is to keep a broad horizon, so I enjoy challenging myself with all kinds of types of writing!

I’d say my absolute favourite is probably...drama, though. I think one of the best elements of any good story is a great conflict that drives the characters through the plot, and drama’s one of the best ways to bring that out. Plus with drama you can play with other elements like angst, mystery, etc, so I love getting to try and throw that in!

From @keepswingin:  Are you an only child? Do you have any siblings?

I am... not an only child! I have one sibling, so I come from a fairly small family 😊

From @keepswingin:  Something you’ve always enjoyed (book, show, movie, etc)

Hmmm...it’s gonna sound cheesy, but improvement. I’m a perfectionist at heart, and part of just my personality is that I love trying new things. But at the same time, I want to be the best I can be at whatever I do, and really push myself in new directions and work as hard as I can to achieve whatever potential I have, and maybe if I’m really lucky I can push beyond that.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m always successful, or that life doesn’t get in the way, but it’s definitely something I’ve enjoyed ever since I was a little kid.

Also, the movie Stardust. It’s a go to and I love it. 😊😂

From @keepswingin: favourite hobby?

Well, I tend to keep up with a lot of hobbies, so it’s difficult to pick one...

Having said that, I’ve done horse riding ever since I was 3. I was around horses since practically birth, so I grew up as one of those horse girls way past the phase when it was considered acceptable, and was going to go into the equestrian business for a long, long time! 

I have had a break from horse riding, but I’m going back to it again and it really brings me so much joy that, even though I adore my other hobbies, I have to admit horse riding is one that holds a special place in my heart.

From @keepswingin: Do you like video games/have you played any?

I’m not huge on video games, but I’m certainly not averse to them either!

I enjoy a good let’s play (cause I’m cheap and poor and it means I don’t have to buy a ton of games and/or consoles or ‘git good’ as it were) but don’t tend to play a lot of games myself, though I like watching stuff that’s either action, horror, or story-based, as those really do tend to appeal to my tastes.

That being said I am currently involved in a weekly gaming night regarding the game Danganronpa, which is a lot of fun and I highly recommend it, and I also dabble in the Sims from time to time, like a lot of people (ya girl basic 😂)

From @keepswingin: Favourite book?

Oooh, that’s hard! I have a nostalgic place in my heart for the Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini as one of the first YA fantasy series I read at like...10/11, which were so much fun.

But, as I am now...I tend to stick to the classics, or non-fiction if I’m honest (I’m boring, I know, judge me 😂) so I’d say Pride and Prejudice, as well as the Picture of Dorian Grey, are also up there in terms of favourites. That and biographies on figures like Leonardo Da Vinci are just endlessly fascinating to me. Also just...anything by Shakespeare. Man was an absolute genius.

From @keepswingin: If you don’t have a favourite book, a favourite author & the last book you read?

Well, at the moment my favourite author is a four way tie between Austen, Shakespeare, Wilde and Kazuo Ishiguro.

Speaking of, the last book I read in regards to fiction is actually the Buried Giant by Ishiguro that I’m currently working through. Non-fiction, it is currently...The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

From @fist-it-out: I have a question, a burning question: do you have siblings? How many what gender and are you a middle child? Middle child’s rule (me and keeps are middle kids).

I have one sibling, as told to @keepswingin, they're a sister and they're older. But there's only 2 of us so I'm the baby of the family (at the tender age of 22 😂😅)

Aaaaand that’s it! I didn’t receive any more questions in time for this post going up, so from now on, I will be going back to being as reticent about info as I’ve always been! Any more questions you will have to hold off on, as whilst you are always free to ask them, my ‘open book’ period of time has officially been slammed closed!

Nevertheless, thank you for all the questions, and I hope the answers were interesting enough for everyone! 

And now back to our regularly scheduled posting 😊