#Left Angle Terminal Blocks

[sarandipitywrites]

find the vibe tag

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams tagged me for this one - thank you! find their snippets here (but maybe find a pillow to scream into, first)

my vibe to find is "that numb feeling when you've all but given up but have no other choice except to press on" - and i know just the scene 😈 it's from draft 3 of Dead Roots, Dark Water, because of course it is

(gently) tagging @sleepyowlwrites, @kaiusvnoir, @serotoninshift, @daisywords, and @byjillianmaria (and you, if you want to play!) to find the vibe: the realization that things can't be the way they were before.

now, here's DRDW (it's a long one):

Cold air buffeted him, pinching his cheeks and stinging his eyes. It stole his breath like a bakhmare on his chest, bringing him to a stumbling halt.

Sleek, shiny walls surrounded him, punctuated by racks of servers and computer terminals. Colorful bundles of cables ran along the floor, mirrored by glass pipes along the ceiling. Luminescent dark liquid flowed through the pipes, casting a strange, undulating glow across the walls. Cold air blasted from vents in the ceiling, sharp and sanitized.

Daxter swallowed around his thick, dry tongue. Where were all the cells?

A thrill ran icy fingers down his neck and arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He'd fucked up.

The thought draped over him, heavy and stifling. He'd made a wrong turn, gone the wrong way, left the prison section of the fortress entirely, fucked it all up the one time he couldn't, the one time there'd be no one to bail him out, no second chances because it was fifteen minutes from last shift change and the patrol would find him and they'd kick him out or lock him up and he'd never see—

His thoughts drifted and blurred along with the room. Daxter shuffled in place, reached for the floor through his boots, a thousand miles away. Everything was floating away, his body—

He was moving, pacing in circles around the room. He rubbed his arms, muttering. "Come back, come down. It's fine, it's fine, everything's—" He scrubbed at his eyes, tried to bring the world back into focus. His hands came away wet. "Fuck." He staggered over to the wall, pressed his back against it.

Hard lines of metal dug into the spaces between his ribs.

A gun. His gun.

That was good. That was solid.

He leaned into the angles, into the pressure. Breathe. He had to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose—

Liquid snot flooded his throat, coated the back of his tongue in a warm wash of salt. He gagged and sputtered, his mouth filling with saliva. Swallowing and sniffling, he sat back against the cold wall, arms around his knees. He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't even breathe right, not when it mattered. If Samos were here, he'd be going on about proper oxygenation or some shit while Daxter's body tried its level best to drown him in his own mucus.

"You don't have to be perfect," her voice whispered in the back of his mind. "You just have to try."

Try. He could try.

He sat there, breathing through his mouth — wrong, but trying — until the panicked clenching of his lungs slowed. The floor solidified beneath him, cold and hard and real.

The soft glow of the black liquid brushed over his face, his skin. He watched it flow through the pipe, chased the hints of light in the darkness.

He hadn't gone the wrong way. There was no other way to go, not if he was following the green dot. There'd been no chance to fuck up, not even for him. This room was just... different. That was all. One more bizarro room in a jumbo-sized puzzle block of the weird and not-so-fantastic. Yeah. That was all. If he just kept going, he'd be back to cell blocks in no time.

A sobbing laugh burbled from his throat. He was hoping to see prison cells. Gods, if he hadn't already known his life had gone to the abyss, that would have been the torch on the pyre...

He wiped at his face, cold and wet and sticky with snot, and retched. He unwound his scarf from around his neck and scrubbed at his eyes, nose, and mouth, tried to ignore the prickling feeling in his calves.

He stopped, pulse beating in his ears. How long had he been sitting there? If it had been long enough for his legs to fall asleep, the patrols would definitely have been back already, so why—

Needles pushing into his legs, he scrambled to his feet. He stared down the corridor, strained his ears towards... anything. Voices, footsteps. Anything.

The rattle of his own breath. The pulsing of his own blood. Nothing more.

He bit his lip. Salt lingered on his skin, prickled his tongue. His fingers twitched, nerves misfiring. He shoved his hands in his pockets to still them. If a patrol hadn't shown up already, they weren't coming. No patrol meant no prisoners... didn't it? But Jak was this way. He had to be. If he wasn't—

Daxter dug his nails into his palms, let the bite of pain wash over his brain. He shook the doubt from his head and marched onward. There would be more cells. He'd find Jak. He had to.

[moon-lv3r]

to be cared for ~🦊

🦋 category: fluff, one-shot, gn!reader, sickfic

🦋 characters: aki, power and denji (minor appearance)

🦋 summary: in which you fell sick right after a mission

🦋 warnings: nil (does slight ooc count?)

🦋 notes: i proofread this a little (shocker !!)

here’s a short one-shot after disappearing for months… a lot has happened… life has been wild and shit. its crazy what happened tbh LMAO but i’m back !!! hopefully my writer’s block also left bc i actually struggled with finishing this because my brain was just DEAD. this was a draft from september 2023… IMAGINE THAT

“Hayakawa, I said I’m fine!” You began after Aki placed a hand on your forehead, sensing a fever emitting through your skin. He had noticed that you seemed to be having a hard time walking properly, prompting him to check to see if there was anything wrong with you.

He sighed and shook his head before answering, “Y/n you’re having a fever for goodness sake!” And he was right, there was something wrong with you.

Your body temperature.

“No I am not!” You protested, despite feeling the feverish temperature all over your body. You just wanted to let Aki know that you could handle yourself on your own.

It was just a fever, what was the worst that could happen? At most, you’d just suck it up and return home, seeing a doctor the next day if it still lingered. The sole problem was that your home was quite the distance away… A whole town away.

It was impossible to die from a fever, it's not like you were terminally ill or whatever… You could manage the distance…

It was just your body temperature rising, you could take care of yourself. What was the big deal?

Your legs suddenly felt weak and you could barely stand, almost falling into the arms of the man standing in front of you. He had a look of shock and worry spilling over every corner of his face. He just grabbed you awkwardly, hands fumbling about, not expecting the sudden situation. What was a man supposed to do in such a situation… All he could do was to help you stand, you could feel the embarrassment heating up your cheeks… Suddenly the pavements looked blurry… like there were lights shining from every direction, distorting every corner, making it look like there were angles overlapping.

“Just…” Aki began. “Just stay over at my place for tonight. I don’t think you can go home on your own like this.”

It was after a mission, one where you and Aki barely managed to complete as you suddenly felt unwell. The mission went on for hours, with the devil being evasive and you feeling sick throughout the entire ordeal. Which was why Hayakawa Aki decided to bring you back to his home as it just so happened to be nearby. Denji and Power were both already asleep by the time Aki returned with you. Your body had been drained, ever so drained. Drained of every energy and essence you had left. It was supposed to be a simple mission, one deemed as safe and only needed two people… Well look at how that went…

“I didn’t want to be an inconvenience,” You began as Aki placed your arm over him and began to carry you home slowly.

It was a good thing that his home was nearby. There was not much ground left to cover, so he wouldn’t have to carry you for long, especially after such a hectic day. Sounds of his free hand fumbling about his pockets for his keys… the jingles as he searched for the right one to open the door to his home… Slowly placing you over on the couch as it seemed to be the only available space that he could immediately find.

Aki paused as several thoughts ran through his mind, piquing your interest. “Perhaps I could sleep on the couch tonight…” He muttered. “This isn’t inconvenient or anything. It’s just for a day.”

You weakly got up to face him, frowning at the sudden words that your ears had just picked up, your eyes analysing the foreign environment to the best of their abilities. You were just co-workers, surely there was no need to do all of this… right? It was just a fever…

“I’ll be alright, Hayakawa,” You responded. He might not feel that way but you sure did. You just didn’t want to owe anyone anything. It felt like you owe someone a huge debt and you do not like that feeling. The sudden urge to return the favour was not a feeling that you enjoyed.

Aki didn’t seem to care about your response, instead, he continued with his actions. He was already beginning to make his bed more hospitable for someone like you. He was already moving some of his items out so that his room would accommodate your needs more. He did not have to do all of that, yet here he was.

“Seriously Hayakawa!” You began. “You don’t need to do all of these!”

“Denji and Power are sleeping,” Aki responded in a soft and gentle tone, while signalling for your volume to resemble that of a feather dropping. The sounds that both Denji and Power were producing during their sleep were the only things that could be heard.

You stopped responding after that and just let Aki do whatever he wanted. You did not have the energy to stop him anyway. The energy in you felt as though it was slowly being syphoned out of you, like there was some leech sucking away on the very essence you needed to even do basic functions. Your body began to slowly feel weaker as your vision destabilised. Perhaps Aki was right…

It had been hours since the both of you last ate as well. The mission had stolen dinner time away from the both of you. It was unfortunate. The growl of your stomach could be easily heard amidst Denji’s snoring. Aki could definitely differentiate between those two sounds as well, having his head turned to look into your eyes the moment his ears picked up on the message your stomach tried to scream.

“Sorry…” You uttered awkwardly as you laid down. Aki was already done arranging some of the items in his home to accommodate a guest.

“I think there should be some items that I can cook with,” Aki pondered, his words growing softer as his mind was riddled with memories of his own fridge, wondering away about how filled it was. Perhaps he could make the both of you a meal before resting for the day.

“Just…” You mumbled as the energy slowly left your body. You had never felt weaker. “Something… small and… make it quick.”

Aki nodded as his figure disappeared into his kitchen, leaving you laying on the couch, soaking in your weakness. Perhaps he was right, you wouldn’t be able to go home after all. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to stop and protest when he insisted on taking care of you. Well its not like you could just go now, you were stuck in his home.

He didn’t strike you as the kind that would… care this much. He always seemed so nonchalant. It just didn’t seem like something he would do. Had he always been this nice? Perhaps you just never noticed… Watching as he focused his energy into making the midnight snack that your sick body long has yearned for ever since the mission. Something in you just felt… different. Foreign even.

All you could do was to stare in silence as the man before you began to busy himself. Sounds of slicing, dicing and boiling filled the air as you looked at his focused face. He always had that serious look, didn't he? You wondered if he had ever at least given himself time to relax and give the stoic face a rest. Did he even have other expressions? Suddenly you were interested in knowing more about your fellow colleague.

The once familiar high ponytail was now replaced by his hair down, reaching for his shoulders, slightly swaying as Aki focused on the task at hand. It was slightly odd, to see your fellow colleague out of the office. It was a sight that you could get used to though.

Denji and Power seemed to be sleeping soundly despite all of the noises filling the house. Even Meowy was obediently staying silently asleep. Suddenly everything was going so well, aside from your unwell body of course.

“Y/n,” Aki called out, carrying bowls and plates of his latest dishes one by one and placing it on the table in front of you. “Just eat slowly, it’s alright.”

“T… Thanks,” you uttered, suddenly feeling as unwell as ever. It felt like a needle was suddenly trying to pierce its way into your mind. The pain felt so sharp, and it felt like it was at one spot, but it also felt like it was all over your head. You just couldn’t focus at all, the pain seemed to be unbearable for you to even hold your head up properly.

“Are… you alright?” The man before you asked, the gaze of concern filling up his eyes.

You could only respond with a small nod, having little energy to respond. Though you managed to squeeze out the fact that your head currently felt like it could burst into bits of flesh any moment.

“Just have a bit of these first, slowly,” said Aki with a spoon in hand, ready to feed you if he had to.

You gently took the spoon from his hand and picked up the bowl of rice. You weren’t so weak that basic human tasks seemed treacherous to complete. You could still eat, maybe just not everything. Your appetite seemed far too sickly to consume the normal amount. You simply could not bring yourself to fill up your growling stomach. It didn’t go unnoticed by Aki of course, being the ever so attentive co-worker that he was.

“You don’t have to finish everything,” He said. “Just have a little bit.”

You did your best, slowly taking bites and swallowing whatever amount your stomach allowed you to. You couldn’t even force yourself to eat if you wanted to, you didn’t have the right amount of energy to do all everything that you have ever wanted.

Perhaps this was a result from all of those times you had overworked yourself beyond your limit. Maybe this was just your body’s way of begging for a break. You should really start taking proper care of yourself. When was the last time you had gotten a proper sleep? You could not remember. Maybe that was why your body chose to collapse, because you just needed the break.

Maybe your body torturing you was its own way of telling you that you needed a break. You have no choice but to abide. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be unwell… It was nice being cared for… was it not?

Your eyes glanced over at Aki, the way he was slowly feeding you… You’ve never seen him this… caring… Were you hallucinating?

“Have the rest of the bowl,” said Aki as he placed the bowl and spoon before you, then he got up. “I am going to do something…” His voice trailed off, fading into the air as sounds of hinges vibrated in the air around you. He had just entered a room.

You slowly helped yourself to the meal that Aki had made for you. He was usually the silent and nonchalant type. No wonder he was suddenly gone just as you were eating… Maybe he wasn’t used to spoon feeding someone, like you were some child.

“When you’re ready, just sleep in this room,” Aki’s voice gently pierced your ears, letting you know of his offer.

“Thank… you,” you managed to utter. He didn’t respond.

The bowl remained at half full, you could not bring yourself to finish the remaining half. You tried, you really tried. Not wanting to waste a single bit of Aki’s efforts, you tried to finish it all, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to take another bite. It seemed as though your body was suddenly sick of something else. This wasn’t good, you felt bad. He was trying to care for you here, yet your body was barely cooperating with anything. How’d you let yourself get so weak after a tough mission? How could your body give up on you just like that?

You slowly got up, to dump the wasted effort of Aki’s cooking and to wash the utensils. You were still a guest, there was no way you would just leave dirty dishes hanging, no matter how sick you were. It was basic manners.

“Y/n?” The closeness of Aki’s voice almost shocked you. He was right behind you, looking as you washed the dishes, before pushing you away and finishing the work. “Could’ve asked me to do it for you,” he said.

“I know how to do dishes,” you responded. “Just because I am sick doesn’t mean I am suddenly handicapped.”

Aki nodded, finally letting you be, and headed back into his own room.

It felt as though you had suddenly been reduced to that of a porcelain doll. Ever so fragile, so breakable that one mustn’t treat it with any malicious intent. Suddenly you became something that had to be treated with the most care anyone can give. All you had was just a fever…

Was it a good feeling? You could not tell. Did you enjoy being treated like a fragile doll that could break any moment? Was it nice, suddenly receiving such care? Perhaps you should enjoy it while it lasts…

Once you were done with everything, you headed into the room in which Aki prepared for you. It was neatly arranged. It had taken you a while to realise that it was his room, considering the fact that you just walked in on him still arranging it.

“Just uh, rest here for now,” Aki muttered as he heard your footsteps, turning to face you. “Take the medications by the bed, its for your headache.”

You nodded, slowly allowing yourself to adjust to the foreign surroundings that felt… so familiar and calming. You wonder why…

Nevertheless, you closed your eyes, trying to get as much sleep as you could milk out of this stupid sickness. Your body was tired… ever so tired… Your head hurts…

Why was it hard to fall asleep? Why was it hard for your mind to finally rest? Why does your body hate you so much? It was stupid…

As your eyes slowly closed, your muscles relaxed, you could make out a faint figure standing in front of you. Strands of shoulder length hair tickle your face as you finally found the energy to rest. The feeling of a blanket slowly moving to cover your body…

Throughout the silent night, you remained blissfully unaware of the hardworking man by your bed, working to get your temperature back down to normal. Who knew taking care of someone with a fever could be so tiring?

Aki changed the towel resting on your forehead every once in a while, the moment it lost the ability to cool your body due to gaining too much heat. It seems as though he was sacrificing his rest to ensure that your body got all of the rest you deserved.

The silent night was deafening for him, why was he doing so much? He had begun to question himself. What was he up to now?

The stars sparked at each and every one of his thoughts, leaving him wondering about his actions and the sick person before him. What would Denji and Power say of this? What was going to happen?

What would the others say of this? Makima… Himeno… What would they think?

As the night went on, Aki soon found that time was slowly draining his energy as well. He was too, a human, and he too, needed rest. No human can go on without any rest at all. He could not collapse onto his bed for a rest when you had already stolen it from him.

The sun rays found its way into his home, spilling its way onto the floor as noises filled the corners. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the causes.

Denji and Power.

They had found you, and Aki resting his head on his own bed, sitting down beside it.

“What’s Topknot doing not sleeping on his own bed?” Power wondered, confused at the foreign sight. She frowned even more as she recognised the person sleeping on Aki’s bed. Someone she had worked with, unwillingly, on multiple occasions.

You.

“Ah! He has got himself a partner! Maybe he is planning on kicking us out soon!” Denji replied. Perhaps it was the morning, or maybe that he was just plain dumb, for not being able to recognise you.

And with a little bit of back and forth between two mindless individuals. Somehow the agreement of removing both you and Aki from the room was agreed upon. Never allow those two to plan something. At least, at some point, Denji finally came to the realisation of your identity as a fellow co-worker, and not some random stranger Aki decided to bring back to his home.

Perhaps it was the morning, so maybe that was why their brains were not fully functioning. But they did try out their idea of kicking the both of you out, though the only outcome was that Aki had woken up and saw the scene that was slowly unfolding. He wasn’t even surprised, just sighed and brushed the incident off while explaining the truth.

The smell of Aki’s morning smoke filled the air as he began to prepare himself for the day, he can never begin a day without his cigarettes. It was rare for him to get peace now that he has tenants in his home. Denji and Power were being quieter, discussing what you and Aki could be doing together like they were a bunch of gossipers. At least they decided to be quieter now.

It had taken you a few more minutes before being able to open your eyes and adjust your body to the new day shining upon you and your sick body. There Denji and Power stood, acting like your maids and waiting for your command. You could not have known of their earlier antics, nor would you have even realised that this was their punishment. What on earth happened while you were knocked out and recovering?

“Since when are the both of you so… obedient?” You asked, trying to adjust your eyes to the light as your body felt better compared to the previous night. You could finally function as a human again. The throbbing pain that lived in your head finally got evicted by the medications Aki gave you, though you still felt slightly light-headed.

“Topknot made us,” Power replied, appearing annoyed by what she was made to do. You laughed while getting up and exiting the room, only to be greeted by the sight of the man with his hair down and making breakfast for everyone.

“I take it that I will be able to leave by the afternoon?” You said, leaning against the door frame, watching as the raw food became edible. “I feel much better compared to last night.”

“Don’t blame me if you feel sick again while on the way home,” Aki responded. “Buyt you do look better.”

Denji and Power exchanged glances as the scene unfolded before them, a sudden possible realisation dawned in their synced minds. “Don’t tell me that you’re planning on asking us to walk Y/n home!” Denji shouted.

“That’s a great idea actually,” You replied, before heading to the toilet to wash up for the day. Soon, you walked over to the couch and took a seat, where you had been the night before, as sick as a dying old man.

“Hayakawa, you done yet?” You asked, trying to sneak a glance at him, only to see him walking over with plates on hand.

Aki was a great cook, and the breakfast proved it. A pity you were too sick the night before to try out everything that he made. But hey at least you got someone to cook and take care of you…

Well well… wasn’t it fun, being sick by Aki’s side.

[kinnoth]

just to get this out of the way:

i watched boondock saints for the first time when i was like, 14 and i didn't think it was good, but i was like eh, it's fine? good enough to try and find fic for?

i watched it again last week because my WIFE of all people suggested it, and holy shit

like i'm not a fan of tarantino. i think his shit is schlocky and that his style is like, what a terminally uncool person thinks how cool people talk and act, and i think that's inherently cringe as like, a personality fault: that lack of self awareness etc etc

but oh my god, watching the ineptitude of someone who is JUST AS UNCOOL as tarantino try to IMITATE tarantino, and DO IT BADLY

like say what you will about tarantino (i just did), but his shit is functional. it is coherent. he understands the language of film and the clip of a conversation and how to block characters moving on a screen through a space. he knows, on a very basic level, how to cut a scene so that you know where people are within a physical location, and how things are moving through time. you get a feeling, also that even if he doesn't know and love the places he sets his movies, that at least he's aware of them, like maybe he's done a minimum of research into the location's history and geography.

he produces schlock but it's COMPETENT, COMPREHENSIBLE SCHLOCK.

fucking duffy???????????????????

there's at least 3 scenes i can think of where he cuts a scene before the actor has finished delivering his line of dialogue, so the last 200ms of audio are played over that abrupt cut to black scene transition. he doesn't know how to light shit, so there are multiple scenes where the background is blowing out the characters' faces while they're supposed to be seriously talking to one another.

there are ...6(?)...fight sequences and each of them are cut so that every abrupt angle change confuses you as to which characters are to the left/right/screen up/screen down of the closed room they're in. actors frequently are just left to .....fidget? listlessly? as they deliver their dialogue because his fucking sets are populated with NOTHING and he has given them NO direction about what they ought to be doing while they deliver his absurdly unwitty dialogue. you don't even get the impression that he knows what people do when they're hanging out. it's like a 12 year old girl's best guesstimate about what adult men get up to in their free time. like they sit around one kitchen table and drink? for 14 hours? and then one of them shoots a cat?

also he doesn't know shit about boston. as sarah put it, "he writes boston like he's a japanese game studio setting something in america". it's deeply embarrassing.

like i'm not even gonna go on about the terrible politics etc etc. because the rest of it, the thing it's attempting to do just isn't a functioning, moving vehicle. the staggering incompetency, the yawning pit of illiteracy of this film is such that criticising its message is like walking into a mouldering, rotting lean-to and criticising the wallpaper. it's not "so bad it's good"; it's too inept to be structurally sound.

like i've watched the likes of "the room" or "birdemic", and at least those films offered a peek into the ridiculous psyches of their writer/director's souls. duffy isn't even interesting enough for that. he's got nothing to offer.

anyway, terrible movie but incest shippers are really sleeping on this fandom, y'all need to hook a brother up with another brother if you know what i mean

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

A retaliatory swat at the accusing digit before she props a defiant hand atop the arch of a cocked hip. "I am being serious! The first symptom of dementia is exactly this! You start saying wild shit that makes no sense! Then, your flimsy human brain gradually breaks down over a span of a few years to a decade until you are left with little more than a useless, shriveled prune in it's stead! I do not have the time to spoon feed you mushy peas and sponge bathe your disordered ass! ... Also, don't pretend you don't love it when I give you the ol' bishop's finger you fucking nutted all over the place last time!"

A flinch akin to having his hand swatted away from a tray of freshly baked cookies has his stupidly high collar bunching up by where his ears hide under his helmet, and he gives the limp wrist attached a defensive twist as he furtively checks to make sure she didn't scuff the last mani she gave him. "...dementia, babe- really?"

Of course she has to go all diagnostics mode on his ass when he's not serving the full amount of his cunt energy, but he supposes he did inevitably train her into doing so, even if his methods were more aligned in her mirroring his behavior over using it as a litmus test for illnesses of the terminally over 6,000 club. "You do realize I'm immune to all the Earthly ailments now, right? When I tell you I have a stomachache, I'm just trying to get you to rub my back." Which is probably a concept that is going to go right over her head because why would a stomachache equate to a back rub? That was part of the ruse for her never finding out, but cat's out of the fucking bag now. What is she going to single handedly decode next- the 'nah, I don't want anything' from the daily drive through run and then him proceeding to eat all her fries thing?

Her loudly exclaiming the triggers of his projectile nutting in the actual middle of the promenade earns a more virile flinch coupled with his wings snapping around them both like a sound proof tent as he hunches his shoulders to glower down at her inside, talons flexed into vicious tips as if he's considering the ways to mess up her hair so it looks like she just finished giving him mad head inside the tent, but settles for swatting her halo off its axis like a painting angled at just the right amount of wrong to be annoying. "I thought we agreed to NEVER mention that again! I was in a vulnerable spot- I JUST finished watching the Princess Bride, and then YOU took advantage of it!" The wings are definitely blocking the general public from this conversation and phones are not being whipped out at the spectacle.

[terminalblocks123-blog]

[witchofthesouls]

Alright, a continuation of Bayverse Autobots dealing with a rogue human carrier due to the absolute fuckery (as in the noncon body modification and unethical human experimentation) from Sector Seven.

(Needless to say, Optimus makes a good impression. The rest of them? Not so much...)

You’re not exactly sure how to feel about your life at the moment. Just one major upheaval after another. It feels more from like a supernatural or superhero action movie with the subplot of a shadow government agency making people disappear Just Because insert-whatever-plot-revalent-reason-of-ultimate-power… 

In the end, there’s no secret order or great prophecy or hidden school with a twinkling headmaster too full of secrets and too much regrets. Just a human that managed to escape on sheer dumb luck that’s trying lay down low and not get caught.

The accelerated healing seems to either cure your terminal illness or keep it in check, but you’re no Deadpool. Jumping from one fourth-story window is one time too many, and not a thing you wish to repeat if it can be avoided.

Now your life is veering into another direction. A sci-fi one.

One with aliens.

Giant metal titans that can transform in vehicles and what not.

What not also includes the ability to project a physical avatar which is sitting across from you right now as you’re wolfing down the fourth Grand Slam plate. Leo Cullen, the alias, is still nursing his hot chocolate, the lumberjack slam barely touched; whereas Optimus, the real man… mecha, alien, is parked outside.

A boot taps your shoe, you look up to see him smile, dimpled and a bit crooked, as he pushes his plate forward and quickly switches it with your empty one.

You’ve gotten used to the constant low buzz at the back of your neck, but the sudden jolt that sears your spine is a different story.

You stop eating. Fork down and napkin up as you pay attention to the direction.

“Something wrong?”

“I think it’s an eyelash.” The lie comes easily. After all, you and him are both hiding in plain sight for similar reasons. “Hold on.”

The angle of the compact mirror catches a couple half-asleep at their table, and behind them, an older man with greying red hair with glasses. He’s staring at you and a flare lights your nerves on fire.

The table rattles as you push up, the smile feels like a grimace as you say you’re going to the toilet.

The restroom is single users and it suits your needs perfectly. In the reflection, a wan face stares back at you; still thin and sharp from the weight loss and stress still etched on your features. Recovery is an absolute bitch and being on the run gives it a caustic tongue.

Splashing water over your face does little to settle your newfound sparky nerves, and you’re finishing up when there’s a loud click of the door unlocking without your damn permission and it swings open to-

“There you are!” 

The face and body is different, softer with floral wear but the same greying red hair and glasses. You hold your breath and let the static build in your gut. There’s a distant thought that’s amazed by the aliens’ adaptiveness. To have different forms at a blink of an eye? What a skill to have…

They’re saying something but it doesn’t matter. All you need is for them to come closer. Closer.

Cold porcelain digs into your lower back as you wait for the door to finally settle, and finally-

You have no idea who’s more surprised when they disintegrate in an electric rain as you dig your hands into them. The gold chains and rings around your palms and fingers aren’t to just look pretty.

The dryer sputters in a slow death and soap dispenser sparks, drooling out all of its contents. Only the toilet and sink escaped due to the lack of sensors. Lucky them that you’re getting better at that trick. You once shorted out half a block -signs, posts, and even the cars, nothing was left unaffected- to escape in the dark streets.

It does leave you off-kilter: bodily disconnected, yet hyper-aware of all the running currents.

Leo’s outside the door, and you force your shaking, wet hands to smooth out the static in your hair, patting them dry with your clothes. (A small, distant part of yourself jokes about matching Leo’s greying side streaks should you ever return to your original hair.)

There’s concern on his face and he says something but you honestly want to go back to bed. Just sleep it off for awhile.

He pulls you close and hot air hits your wet face. Sun beating overhead and you drag your feet to disperse the extra charge, teeth hurting whenever a radio is changed.

Leo makes no comment when you kick up dust, but he hum in a strange singsong and unrecognizable tune that bleeds out the itch under your skin.

Besides the weirdly green ambulance in the far corner, there’s a hummer and a sports car nearby giving you the same sharp sense of jittery awareness. And unlike the ambulance who’s avatar you knocked out, those two weren’t muted and had their attention on you.

Static numbs your clenched fingers and your spine buzzes as you and Leo pass them. You're tense. Absolutely ready to bolt away, and if it wasn't for the arm around your shoulders and the calming presence exuded by Leo, you're pretty sure you would have taken your chances to run into traffic. 

The lizard part of your brain is still screaming to try: Don’t turn your back!

A bizarre sensation of cool water slides down your neck and you shiver as it spreads down your back, like a huge icy-hot pack and a massage as it rolls and digs into your muscles, unknotting them, playfully tapping each individual knobs of your spine. 

It’s enough to shove the overwhelming urge to run to back of your head. Enough to realize that you need to breathe and had a death grip on Leo’s clothes. Leather and flannel twisted in your hands, straining the materials even.

In a way, you’re operating on a cross between autopilot and hyperviligance. You know that the Leo/Optimus hybrid is physically guiding you back to him, but your entire focus is tracking the other not-cars. Too many, persists the lizard, what’s stopping them?

You’re suddenly back inside the cab, seatbelts curling and sliding back to its proper place. 

Your life is turning upside-down again, but all you do is stumble to the bed in the back. Too strung out by everything to speak. The mattress shifts and bury your face into the eerily smooth skin of a neck and inhale the mix of tires, metal, and fire. He pulls you over to rest right on top of him and you follow it, soaking his body heat and matching his slow rise of his chest.

Optimus hums, the pitch low, and you realize it’s his whole frame, not just the avatar, that’s gently vibrating in a strangely soothing noise that slowly eases away the harsh tension in your back and unclenches your belly, limbs relaxing as you cling to the other body and broad hands, warm and sure, are resting on your lower back, heat sinking into the sore muscles.

Hunger still nips at your senses, but it’s the exhaustion that drags you down.

The noise drowns out the sharp awareness that’s outside, and somewhere between the easy, slow strokes across your lower back and rocking motions of the drive, you fall asleep.

You’re vaguely aware you’re purring back.

_________________

:: Congratulations, Prime, we have a feral carrier in our grasp now. ::

[punchdrunkdoc]

Chapter 12

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

——————

Chapter 12

The night started out the same as the others.

Calina watched from her hidden spot as Matthew chose his vantage point, high above the city he protected. She watched as he scouted the night air, his head twitching in small movements as he filtered through the sounds travelling to him on unseen waves.

And she watched as he pinpointed his prey, and took off across the rooftops.

She followed at a distance, one that was considerably closer than the first night - the night he’d almost been shot. Since then, she’d been determined to always be within range, in case she ever had to call out a warning.

But it soon became apparent that this night was not the same as the others.

His pace as he ran across the city was slower than usual. His jumps not quite reaching as far. His gait…off. Not as confident as usual. She frowned as he mistimed a landing and staggered a couple steps, his arm coming up to steady himself against the wall to his left. He rested against the bricks for a few seconds before shaking his head as if to clear it.

Then he kept going.

Concerned, she increased her speed, getting closer to him than ever before. As he paused on top of an empty warehouse across from the pier, she was just one building over, crouched behind the massive billboard on the roof.

Then he disappeared from sight. Whatever he - they - had been chasing must be inside that warehouse. She backed up and took a running jump, bridging the narrow gap between the two buildings. She found the access stairs Matthew had used to gain entry to the building, and followed him inside.

She kept her footsteps light as she descended the darkened stairwell, her ears straining for any hint of what she was walking into. But she could hear nothing but the scurry of rats in the walls, and the distant screech of tires on the road outside.

She eased open the door at the foot of the stairs and scanned the corridor. A faint light shone from the far end, accompanied by a mechanical hum and the muffled sound of voices.

Bingo.

She followed the signs of life, securing the straps of her widow’s bites and cursing herself for not bringing one of her guns.

This felt reckless.

Dangerous.

She was entering unknown territory, with no clue what was going on, and no back up.

Yelena would kill her if she ever found out.

But Matthew was here somewhere, and he didn’t exactly seem at the top of his game tonight. She needed to make sure he was okay.

The light brightened as she reached the end of the corridor, which terminated in a T-junction. A narrow walkway branched left and right, forming a gantry that overlooked a vast open space below. By the looks of things, it used to be an open plan office space. A few desks and office chairs were strewn about, and some computer equipment was stacked in a pile in the corner, covered in cobwebs, proof of long neglect.

The light that she’d followed came from a few desk lamps that were plugged into a portable generator. They surrounded a pile of blankets in the centre of the floor. She squinted, trying to get a better look, but the angle was wrong, her view blocked by a large man dressed in black. She froze as another three men joined him, coming from a room at the other end of the open space.

“Did you make the call?” the man in black said.

“Yes,” one of the others replied. He came to rest against the generator and folded his arms. “Its just a matter of time now.”

“Good,” the large man said, pacing the floor now, his steps throwing up tiny clouds of dust as he moved. “The sooner the better. The package made too much noise on the way in-”

“And who’s fault was that?” the third man piped up.

“How was I to know the sedative would wear off so quick?”

“What’s done is done,” the fourth man said. His voice held authority, and the other three paid attention as he spoke. “But I agree with Jones. This place feels compromised now. I don’t like the feel of it.”

“You should always trust your instincts.” The threatening words came from directly below her. It was Matthew, using a tone of voice she’d never heard from him before - a harsh, menacing whisper.

The four men spun around and she could see them peering into the shadows beneath her hiding spot. Before they could say anything, a pair of sticks came flying out of the darkness, striking two of the men in the chests and sending them staggering back. The Devil appeared in the next moment, running at the other two criminals. He engaged them in a flurry of hits and kicks, dropping one of the men to the ground with a roundhouse strike to the head. The three remaining thugs surrounded him, but just like the night on the docks, he held his own.

No, not quite like that first night.

This time, the punches and kicks from the other men were landing.

She watched as Matthew stumbled back after one particularly brutal blow to his face, the momentary distraction allowing one of the other assailants to follow it up with a hammer-like hit to his kidneys.

He went down to one knee, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from calling out.

Get up, Matthew!

He did, but too slowly. He took another fist to the face. A kick to the chest. She gripped the metal railing of the gantry, torn between protecting her identity and helping the struggling man below. 

The decision was made for her in the next moment. 

The fourth man - the one who seemed to be in charge - came at Matthew from behind, a metal tool in his hands. Before she could cry out a warning, he swung his weapon back and whacked Matthew in the side of the head with his full force.

Daredevil collapsed to the ground.

“No!” she shouted.

The men looked up at the sound, her cover blown. It didn’t matter. 

She was done hiding from this fight.

She launched herself over the railing of the walkway and rolled when she hit the ground. As she came to her feet, she fired one of her taser discs at the man with the wrench, dropping him with 30 000 volts. The other three came at her. She met the first with a spinning jump kick to the face, his momentum providing the force needed to knock him out.

She took the second down with another disc. The third managed to tackle her to the ground just as she fired, but she quickly slipped from his grasp with an elbow to his nose. She flipped him over, wrenched his arm behind him and shoved her bite into his neck with her free hand. He jerked and shuddered beneath her as the electricity coursed through his body.

As he flopped into unconsciousness, she stepped off him and cautiously approached Matthew. He was still sprawled on the ground where he’d fallen, a trickle of blood leaking from his right temple the only hint of movement.

He was still.

So still…

She held her breath as she got closer. Then shuddered in relief when she saw the faint rise and fall of his chest.

He groaned suddenly and started to stir. Not wanting to be caught by him, she took off across the floor and raced up the metal steps to reach the gantry again. She melted back into the shadows and tried to calm her racing heart.

He seemed to sense her anyway. As he staggered to his feet, his head whipped up to her location. He tilted his head, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to sort through the sensations flooding him. “Is there someone there?” he called. He clutched the side of his mask where his wound still leaked. He shook his head, and grimaced at the obvious pain.

“Dada?” a small voice croaked.

The blankets stirred. A small head popped up, long dark hair mussed and cheeks flushed with sleep.

It was a child.

Those bastards had kidnapped a child. A toddler, by the looks of things.

“Dada?” the child repeated, the words slurred this time. Calina remembered the talk of sedatives, and her fists clenched in anger.

They had drugged and kidnapped a tiny child.

That was why Matthew had come here, despite his obvious impediment.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen took a step towards the little girl. “Hey, there.” His voice was soft and calming, the polar opposite of the growled whisper from earlier. He stumbled into one of the felled kidnappers on his way to the pile of blankets. He frowned and glanced around at the other three, before shaking his head again.

He used his hands to guide himself towards the child. When he reached her, he crouched down and gathered her into his arms, blankets and all. The child started to protest, but the lingering sedative in her system made her too weak. Her head flopped onto Daredevil’s shoulder and she started crying pitifully into the red fabric.

“Shhh, sweetheart, its okay,” Matthew crooned as he carried her across the floor, one arm rubbing her back. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The two of them disappeared through the door at the other end of the open space. Calina retraced her steps back to down the corridor, up the stairs and out onto the rooftop. She jogged over to the edge and peered down to the street below where a large man dressed as a devil paced with a tiny child in his arms.

If she wasn’t still so terrified by what could have happened tonight she would have smiled at the strange sight.

As it was, she was almost shaking with fear.

He could have been killed.

If she hadn’t been there...he could have died tonight.

The thought echoed in her mind as she watched Matthew handed over the child to a policeman - a plain-clothes Detective that he seemed to know. And the fear plagued her as she followed him home. And luckily, he did go home; he didn't try to fight any more battles that he was obviously in no fit state to win.

What had happened to him?

The disorientation in the warehouse may have been due to the blow to the head, but before that, his reaction times had been off. His senses not what they should be.

What was wrong?

The question kept her up that night. Along with several others: should she have intervened sooner? Should she have intervened at all? Had she put herself and her sisters at risk by doing so?

Was she selfish to worry about that when Matthew's life had been at stake?

When a child's life had been at stake?

After several hours of contemplation, Calina was still none the wiser. She sighed and rested her head on her bent knees as she stared out of her bedroom window. The muted yellow glow of the sun bounced off the glass of the apartment building opposite; she could hear birds chirping from the trees lining the street below, and the sound of foot traffic and cars as people made their way to the market and the gym and wherever else normal people went on a bright Saturday morning.

All she wanted to do was go next door and make sure Matthew was alright. That he hadn't fallen into a coma from his head injury. That he hadn't snuck out to fight more bad guys and was right now dying in a ditch somewhere.

Why couldn't she have a crush on a normal man? One who didn't court danger every night and make her worry like this?

But would she have felt this way towards a normal man? Matthew was handsome, funny and kind - like thousands of other men in New York City. But how many of those other men were as strong as Matthew? How many fought so well? How many risked their lives to rescue small children?

There was only him.

And her simple crush had blossomed into full blown obsession only after she had discovered his secret and found out that he was a hero.

Because she had discovered he was a hero.

Because he was the complete antithesis of her. 

She admired the traits in him that she lacked.

But she was trying to be a better person than the one she'd been raised to be. So she shoved on some clothes, tidied her hair, and grabbed the washed and folded sweater that Matthew had lent her a month ago when she'd stayed in his apartment. 

She needed an excuse to knock on his door, after all.    

 ———

 Matt lay curled up in bed, exhausted, but still unable to sleep.

The sounds filtering through his floorboards from the building below were too muffled. The voices drifting through his window from the people on the street too indistinct. He couldn't gauge the world through scent - his nose blocked and his tastebuds rendered useless.

And it made him feel vulnerable as hell.

He fucking hated catching a cold.

But he should have seen it coming. The past couple of weeks, he'd been burning the candle at both ends. Between the long hours at work, and his Daredevil activities, he wasn’t getting more than a few hours rest a night.

And it couldn’t exactly be called rest. He still wasn’t sleeping well; the last full stretch of uninterrupted sleep was probably the night Calina had stayed over on his couch.

He was run down, and running on empty.

And now he had a fucking cold.

He'd felt the first symptoms of it last night. He'd had to strain to hear the cries and calls of the city, the sounds quieter than usual. The scents on the air had been muted, and as he'd launched himself across the cityscape, he'd fumbled a landing, his senses failing to properly triangulate his position in space. The sharp scrape of pain at the back of his throat had clinched the diagnosis.

He should have turned back and headed home. It had been reckless to continue, when he knew full well how much a simple virus could incapacitate him.

But he'd heard the shuddering gasps of a child in distress; had picked up on her kidnapper's plans for the ransom.

So he’d gone to save her. There’d been no other choice.

Matt groaned as a sharp knock at his door penetrated the haze in his head. He thought about ignoring it, but if it was Foggy or Karen, they wouldn't let up until he answered. So he forced himself out of bed and padded to the door, needing the brush of his hand against the wall to steady his stumbling walk.

He hated the way his senses could be so easily overpowered. He hated the way the fire dimmed on his world, and everything became a blur. He hated not knowing who stood two feet from him when he finally reached the door and yanked it open.

"What?" he said, his foul mood resulting in a harsh greeting.

"H-hi," a shy voice said. "It's Calina from across the hall."

Matt winced. He already felt guilty for the way he'd been ignoring Calina this past month, and now he'd snapped at her for no reason. "I'm sorry," he said, sniffing. "I'm not feeling great this morning."

"Oh! You have a cold." She said it as if it solved some great mystery.

He cocked his head, confused. "Um, yeah."

"And you're hurt," she murmured. He felt the whisper soft brush of her fingers against his temple. He raised his own hand to feel the area, wincing again at the deep bruise and the tacky feel of the dried blood.

Oh yeah. He'd been walloped across the head with a wrench. That explained the pounding in his skull.

But it could have been worse. So much worse. If it hadn’t been for his mysterious saviour, he could have died last night.

Who were they?

For the past few nights he’d had the vague sense of being watched. Nothing he could put his finger on, nothing tangible to investigate, just a feeling. An instinct.

Was it the same person?

He still had nothing tangible to identify them - by the time they'd gotten close enough to him in the warehouse, his senses were screwed up by the cold and the blow to the head. All he had to go on was a strange noise: the whine of an electric device, almost like the high-pitched crackling buzz of a taser. He'd heard it several times as he'd lain incapacitated on the concrete floor. 

“What happened?” Calina asked, interrupting his memory of the previous night.

“I got up early this morning to grab a drink and tripped.” He touched the wound again. Tried to downplay it with a smile. “Guess I didn’t notice the blood at the time.”

“Let me clean it up for you,” she offered.

“There’s no need. I can do it. And I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

“I never get sick. And besides, you helped patch up my wound before. Let me help you. Its only fair.”

He nodded and held the door open for her, feeling too ill to resist the offer. He followed her into the living area and took a seat on the couch, sinking into the soft leather with a sigh. He listened as she rummaged around his kitchen for a bowl and filled it with water.

“Do you have any first aid stuff?” she called out.

“Under the sink.”

His eyes drifted closed as she gathered supplies. He breathed in deeply, trying to catch the scent of her as it swirled in the air of his apartment. He allowed himself to enjoy the subtle hints of fragrance after denying himself for so many weeks.

He’d missed her, he realised. He’d missed the way she smelled and her soft voice and the strange connection they shared.

It was dangerous allowing her back into his life, even just for a few moments like this. It made him want things. Things he was better off avoiding.

The cushion under him shifted as she sat beside him. He felt her knee graze his thigh as she hitched her leg up on the couch and turned to face him. He kept his eyes closed as she dabbed gently at his skin with a damp cloth, trying to remove the dried blood. “Is the water too hot?” she whispered.

“No,” he murmured.

“Let me know if I hurt you.”

He nodded. Then nestled deeper into the couch as she continued cleaning the wound. He had to suppress a shudder as she leaned closer and blew gently across his skin, drying off the area. He had to fight back a moan as she scraped her blunt nails through his hair, making sure she caught all the blood.

Then, as she placed the butterfly sutures carefully across the cut, he had to fight the urge to sleep. Something about her presence was so soothing - it always had been, from the first moment he’d spied her on the rooftop. She quieted something in his soul.

And he felt safe around her.

Which made little sense, given what he knew about her…and all the things he didn’t know.

But in his vulnerable state, with his bones weary with fatigue, and his abilities weakened, he somehow felt able to let his guard down…and rest.

----------

CHAPTER 13

Taglist: @hollandorks, @yanna-banana, @stilldreaming666, @tearosearts-blog

If you’d like to be added, let me know!

[daltonacademia]

this photo- and what it means.

I recently hung up this photo of the poets in my room, and it's really started to get me thinking.

This post is a fairly long analysis so it's all below the cut. Also, tw: there are mentions of suicide.

Notice what each of the poets are wearing. Their outfits in this picture perfectly reflect their personalities and/or defining traits.

-Charlie is dressed in sweats, showing his casual-ness and his contrast to Welton and their formal school uniforms.

-Meeks is dressed a bit more academically, but in a way that reflects his own personality, not the academic aspects valued by Welton.

-Todd is wearing something simple, easy to hide in. Something that doesn't 100% comply with Welton, but not something that doesn't oppose it (from the stance of him at the beginning of the movie).

-Now Cameron is wearing something that Mr. Nolan would look proudly at. A formal outfit, no discernable flaws, but also no flare. Even his vest is wrinkle-free.

-Pitt's ensemble resembles Todd's a lot, besides the fact that he's wearing a button up under it. I think this shows that while he may be unassuming and passive on the outside, underneath he's smart. Again his outfit complies with Welton's standards, but doesn't exceed them.

-Knox wears a Welton sweatshirt that looks distinctly sporty, contrasting everyone else outfit. I think this shows that his pursuits, like Charlie's, lay beyond academics. Plus Knox has been associated with more sporty activities throughout the movie, such as his bike ride around time and watching the public high schools football team/cheerleaders.

-And finally, Neil is wearing a V-Neck sweater with a white button up under it, which has a button or two undone. I think this symbolizes his simultaneous compliance and defiance with the systems Welton has put in place. He wears their ideal uniform, most similar to Cameron's, but in a way that would be considered improper. And also notice he lacks Cameron's tie, showing that he doesn't have school spirit, as if the tie was a medal that he discarded.

---

The position of every poet in this photo is important as well.

-Charlie sits closest to the camera, sitting improperly on a desk. It shows how big his personality is, and the domineering influence he has on the Dead Poets as a group.

-Neil and Meeks are next closest to the camera. This also shows their importance to the group; Neil was the first one to suggest starting the society, and Meeks helps with schoolwork. Also note that Neil is the only one sitting properly in a chair, which reminded me of the scene with the gun towards the end of the movie (though I'm sure that was pure coincidence). Also take note that Meeks sits behind Charlie, showing his loyalty and submission to him, which is displayed throughout the movie.

-Now onto Cameron, Mr. Keating, and Knox. While their placement with the camera doesn't seem as relevant as the other characters, there still are a few important details. One- notice how Keating is closest to the center. No one blocks him, almost as if he's in he spotlight. I think the boys hold him in such a regard that they could almost see him as a holy figure who deserves the spot. Cameron's body is turned away from Keating, showing his disconnect from his teachings and foreshadowing his eventual betrayal. Knox is partially out of frame, which could symbolize that he only finds true satisfaction away from the poets and Welton itself- in Chris.

-Fianlly, we have Todd and Pitts. You can already see from the photo and their outfits that there are some connections between the two characters, and this is presented in the photo aswell. Todd is hidden behind everyone else, probably symbolizing his mentaility that he is inferior to everyone, and just his anxiety in general. Pitts also stands behind everyone else, donning a smile which contrasts Todd’s unhappy expression. This probably represents that Pitts is happy to be in the back, versus Todd who wants to be in the front.

---

Here’s my final thoughts/other minor details:

-I think the meaning behind each of the poets expressions is fairly obvious. Most wear lazy smiles, Cameron wears a picture-perfect yearbook grin, Neil wears a very obvious fake smile, and Todd wears a borderline frown. 

-Cameron’s hand on Neil’s shoulder. In this photo it’s hard to see whether it’s Cameron’s or Knox’s, but I found the same photo from a different angle and it’s clearly Cam’s. Plus, it makes more sense within the story. Neil is consistantly nice to Cameron, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Cam was closest with him compared to the other poets. (Plus, Cameron seems to be the one helping Neil study trig, which supports this. Feel free to add more evidence).

-This one is a bit of a stretch, but still interesting to think about: the watch on Neil’s wrist. His watch is latched onto his left hand, and Neil shoots himself with his left hand. Could the watch symbolize that he has limited time? No one else in the photo is wearing a watch from what I can tell, besides maybe Keating. But remember, in the original DPS script, Mr. Keating was supposed to have a fatal terminal illness, meaning his time was also limited. Of course, we do have to remember RSL is a lefty, but it’s still food for thought.

Feel free to add onto this with your own connections/theories.

[mrrusser]

So lately I've been frequently contacted by various different scammers (I sign up for stuff that attracts scammers purposely ) they call they text they email and even use f.b messenger. The two main scams lately have been old news already like getting a text saying they won the lotto and they are giving fucking 90,000 dollars away to a bunch of chosen people but in order to recieve your money you have to pay 400 bucks for shipping. And the other is them sending a text asking if your interested in wrapping your car for monster energy drinks for 500 dollars a week . Like maybe 20 scammers with that old ass scam this past week. I love accepting and messing with these assholes . When they send me checks I use different smart ass names just to see if they will catch it and block me . No not yet but my post office is sick of it . The last check fake check was 2855.00 dollars and made out to john fukkuscamfag jr. Lol . Even better when they called me trying to pronounce that name all pissed wanting to know if I deposited the check....I asked witch one I have a pile of them oh yours must be the one that's ligit right . I do this also mainly because these lying asshole zipperheads are out to rob me . So every fraudulent check sent over night to me costs around 8 bucks out of the scammers pocket and keeping them busy via texting playing dumb coming off with all kinds of excuses why you didnt deposit the bad check can go on for days ...which is good because that way maybe one two or three other goulable people wont get contacted and scammed ..this is our country and these motherfuckers are robbing our people left and right and theres no consequences because they are doing it from a different country and their fucked up government allows it . They have actual 8 hour a day full time jobs in a cubicle with a computer and dont seem to think they are robbing us. That's how they support their family's, their 9 to 5 you could say. One of the big issues is goulable fucking people in this country . Many people believe and pay into the scam and lose out big time only to fall again and again and to me that's insane and clearly let's me know what the problem is and clearly keeps scammers picking on the u.s . As long as they are making the bucks here it wont stop . The fbi cant touch it cause its foreign.. Ok so heres one big red flag that most of these scammers will say and it's only one word they put in their scam directions to you . It's the word "KINDLY" Yes if you see that word like if they are telling you to do somthing .. " KINDLY DEPOSIT CHECK IN YOU ACOUNT .......just for example ok. That is without a doubt a scammer . Ok God forbid they actually make a job offer or whatever that isnt outlandish like instead of 1000$ a week to clean an apartment that has no address and the check is suddenly at your door way over the amount and still no address to go start actually earning instead instruction on depositing the check and request for the amount it was over to pay the painter still no address ....duh how fucking stupid ...if they contacted me with hi this is such and such cleaning company wanting to speak to you about a position opening up this fall if your interested please contact us to request an application or an interview if you are in our area .the job is full time starting wage is $ 9.00 /hr you must submit a 5 panel urine analysis clean as drugs will not be tolerant at out work facility and any illegal activity will lead to immediate termination. Blablabla...right ide be in deep trouble If scammers gave it to me at that angle . Maybe ...I've never ever fell for any scam except once I bought a bad ass drone for insanely cheap and I didnt get that drone actually I had to constantly bother them for 6 months before they sent me a picture of that drone and a plastic fake little helicopter I later found the same one in a 25cent toy machine ...live and learn to not fall for the same burn turn after turn.

[legobiwan]

Wriiiiiting.

~~~~~~~~~

Square monitors, the criss-cross of sharp, white lines, perfect boxes stacked one upon the other, a rolling topography of blocky obelisks and quadrate mountains. A flash in his left peripheral sends him crashing to the ground, hands intertwined over the nape of this neck (you can afford to lose a finger or two, vod, but it only takes one lucky clanker to hit pay dirt). Fingers vised at his brain stem, he shuffles on his knees, head bowed in bizarre supplication as he takes refuge beneath the rusting terminal.

"CC-2433, watch our flank!" he tries to yell, but all he manages is a strangulated hiss as his back slams against the console tower, hollow transparisteel moaning under the assault. A quick pat-down reveals no weaponry on his person, no armor, no protection beyond a dampened, torn bodysuit and a pair of black, standard-issue boots. The enemy is still out there, alive in the wheeze of an energy clip, the rattle of metallic joints, in the throbbing acid-pit of his gut. The rising tide of saliva, the atrial flutter in his chest spell certain disaster. If he vomits now, he is well and truly osik'la and he knows this day was inevitable, he was trained for this, to fight with nothing but his white cetare and the wits he was bred with. No bar is too low for the Seppies, no ditch deep enough to bury Count Dooku and his clankers. My question to you, cadets, is this - do you survive?

"Cuyanir or get out of here," he mouths, the mantra unearthed from fallow grey matter so forgotten it may as well have been gangrenous. It's an odd feeling, this recovery, like pins and needles in the leg after sitting too, too long, wave after wave of alien sensation, each prick deeper than the last. He doesn't have time to dwell on this. It's another day, another training run in square city. The longnecks have poisoned you, slipped something into your breakfast. You don't know what it is, it doesn't matter, not out here in this right-angled jungle, stripped of your weapons, sweat beading on your forehead the way the everyday deluge collects on Kaminoan windows. You only know they will come from any corner, any block, the blaster shots, the blades, the long plasma rods pivoting from this way and that's what Grater was doing last night, keeping that training box in his quarters.

[the-hidden-writer]

Lucidity

A WandaVision oneshot (SPOILERS!) Words: 1,623

Summary: When White Vision leaves WestView and discovers that Tony Stark is dead, he starts to realise that he is very different to who he used to be, but isn't sure how.

Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

Lucidity

He is Vision.

That was the one clear thought in his mind. It pierced through the stitches of the (now unfamiliar) mismatched coding, giving him clarity and yet confusing him at the same time. The overwhelming instinct to destroy The Vision and Wanda Maximoff slowly began to recede, leaving behind only the memory of an order and a small urge to comply.

It would be wrong to terminate Wanda Maximoff, would it not? He recalled telling her that he loved her. Loved ones do not harm each other, do they?

(“I love you,” he grits out, as her magic finally manages to penetrate the stone. The tiny sliver or relief overpowers the immense agony he is in and he releases the breath he has been holding, drinking in her features one last time before squeezing his eyes shut to embrace his fate. The last thing he knows is pain beyond imagination as she destroys all that he is.)

Or perhaps they do, depending on the circumstances. He felt like he should know the answer. He did not.

As the last of his new programming was broken apart, the order itself did not leave him.

Terminate Wanda Maximoff. Neutralise The Vision.

But he was The Vision. So… he must destroy himself, correct? That was the logical thing to do. So then why was he feeling hesitant to do so?

He flew straight upwards to set about to accomplish this, surpassing the strange red barrier of Wanda’s creation until he was far above it. Since the sky was clear that day, from his perspective he could see that it was hexagonal. He then angled his body so that he was upside down, decreased his density to more closely match that of a human’s, and let gravity do the work.

Eyes closed, he started to fall.

(“Mr Stark, there is something I have been meaning to ask of you.” Tony turns to him in surprise, but that surprise quickly morphs into that odd, warm expression he wears whenever he talks to him. He tells him to continue, so he does. “I have discovered that… that you and Dr Banner have programmed me in such a way that I am unable to bring harm to myself.” Tony’s eyes widen and there is an unspoken question which he does not answer. “I was wondering if you could change that. If I were to be corrupted in some way, I want to be able to stop myself before I hurt others.” The reasons he goes on to detail are perfectly logical, but he does not understand the heartbreak written on Tony’s face.)

He stops himself just as he is about to enter Wanda’s domain.

Life review is a phenomenon encountered by those having a near-death experience where it is said that their life “flashes before their eyes”. Not once did Vision ever think he himself would experience it. He did not when he was being killed by Wanda, he did not when he was being killed by Thanos. So it stands to reason that he should not in this situation, either. And yet he did.

Countless vague memories of Tony Stark. Much clearer memories of the destruction of Ultron and Sokovia. Of stolen moments with Wanda Maximoff. Of the mind stone communicating with him. Of Thanos.

He no longer had the mind stone. Wanda Maximoff was somewhere beneath him that very moment, appearing to fight a witch. The last he saw of Tony Stark was when he was on a news broadcast somewhere in New York. The last he saw of Thanos was when his hand was clawing through his skull in Wakanda.

He tried to access the Internet to find their whereabouts, but rather jarringly realised that he was completely cut-off. Unlike his memories that had simply been blocked from him, connecting to the Internet was now something he was physically unable to do.

He grimaced. That could prove to be a problem.

A problem that Tony Stark could fix. As the world appeared to be in no immediate danger, he could only assume that Thanos was not currently a threat. Once his disarranged mind had been mended, he would then go to Wakanda to assess the situation. Until then, he had to find Tony Stark.

Being restricted from using the Internet felt akin to the loss of a limb, which is why it took him a few moments to search through his memories and decide that the most rational place to start looking would be the Avengers Compound.

(“I never thought I would share a house with Tony Stark.” Wanda tells him after he asks her if there is a difference between a house and a home. “But I’ve always thought of a house as just where you live. A home is the people and memories attached to it.” He is still confused. He supposes that the Avengers Compound is his house, but is it truly his home if he has never lived anywhere else? Wanda seems to sense his doubt, as she always does, and she takes his hand comfortingly. “Vision… I think this our home now.”)

And so he began his flight, as fast as could, to New York.

~-.-~

The Compound had been destroyed.

Where the New Avengers Facility had once been were acres of flattened forest. From where he was hovering, he could see the teems of teams of people, all hard at work completing various tasks. Some were clearing the remainder of rubble, others were attempting to rebuild the facility from the nothing that was left, and, perhaps the most curiously, in the middle of it all there was a large group of journalists surrounding a small monument.

What had happened?

Unlike the rest of the facility, that mysterious monument was the only thing that appeared to be fully built. In an attempt to better understand the situation, Vision moved closer and partially phased into a tree to privately see it more clearly.

He waited for the crowds to move in such a way that he would be able to see what was written on the metal pillar, and when he could finally read it he felt his whole body tense.

(“Listen V, it’s my will and I get to decide who’s on it. Clue’s in the name.” He tries to argue but Tony interrupts him. “Nope, not gonna hear any of your ‘ohh but I’m not human’ bullshit. I had JARVIS down to inherit a bunch of stuff before this, and- yes, I know you’re not him, this is just to prove a point.” He listens in silence, still disagreeing with Tony’s decision. The man’s voice takes on a solemn tone. “I want you to have this much because believe it or not you’re like a son to me, Vision.” All of a sudden, all of his questions regarding his and Mr Stark’s relationship are cleared up. Having Tony say it himself helps it all make sense. Their bond had grown to be more than just inventor and creation. It was that of a father and son. “And I’m gonna treat you like one, even on my will, alright?”)

Tony Stark was dead. Anthony Edward Stark was… dead. If the words on the plaque of red and gold were to be believed, he sacrificed himself to save the universe on October 17th, 2023.

2023? He had lost 5 years?

Vision had felt different since the moment he was rebooted. It was not an unpleasant feeling. Just… different. And that difference had not been more noticeable to him than it was in that moment.

This was because a part of him (the JARVIS part of him) was stunned with disbelief. Then that disbelief was gradually replaced with other sensations. It was as if the voice in his head (he was uncertain if the voice belonged to him or JARVIS) was screaming in the confusion of what could have happened, the guilt of not being there to prevent it and protect him, and the overwhelming grief of losing the closest thing he had to a family member. His father. Sir.

But that’s all it was: a voice in his head. Outwardly…

He felt nothing.

He absentmindedly wondered if that should worry him.

With the knowledge that Tony Stark was dead and therefore could not help him, Vision decided to find someone who could. As far as he knew, Dr Banner was still missing and he was strangely hesitant to seek out the help of Shuri. So perhaps he could attempt to help himself?

No, stay! Stay and ask these people what happened! Ask if they need help! Find the other Avengers! Find out how Mr Stark died!

He left New York.

He had the memories of who he had been. He was not the same. Using those differences he could try and piece together an explanation. The world did not need saving at present, which meant that Thanos had most likely been defeated. And as Vision had nobody and now nowhere to go to, he would just have to wait until the world needed him.

(“Just so we’re absolutely clear,” the man says, “you are to terminate Wanda Maximoff and neutralize The Vision by any means necessary. She’ll be powerful, so be careful. And The Vision will match you for every move you make. After that, you report back to me and wait for your next orders, understood?”

“Understood.” He affirms, and for the smallest of moments his voice sounds wrong.)

Yes, he will wait. He will be useful again. They will need him- who? Humanity or those that weaponised him? Who was the old Vision loyal to? Is he truly Vision anymore? Why doesn’t he care?- and until they do… he will wait.

[hedonisthierophant]

Enkindled

It began with a pillow. Anakin remembers being in awe of the simple cushion perched at the head of his cot, yes. it was spare and unadorned in a fashion Anakin would come to recognize and associate with the jedi order as he continued his training but slaves didn’t have pillows, pillows were a luxury, slaves weren’t permitted such luxurious indulgences. It had been enough of a shock when informed him that he was to have his own room as they moved through a tour of temple, he had had to fight the urge to tell the wizened Jedi matron Sella Hamne in soft looking cream colored robes that flowed around her stooped form that the need not waste a whole room on a being as insignificant s him She must be very old indeed for she moved so slowly but each of her steps was sure and purposeful, hardly leaning on the cane she grasped in her right hand. On Tatooine a slave such as Anakin would’ve been compelled to offer his arm and support this wise woman on her journey to wherever she was going in Mos Eisley. This upbringing and Anakin’s own earnest desire to be helpful, to make himself useful, almost made him reach out for her shoulder but he thought better of it at the last moment. Her weathered yet kind face spoke of quiet pride and he thought that assuming that she even needed his assistance would insult her. A new, stronger, more confident voice inside that had been growing louder and clearer since he left Tatooine behind him in the sleek vessel that had started his journey to a new, better, life overruled his instinct to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. Things were different now, he was no longer a slave, he would be a jedi!

The room was tiny, barely enough space to house the single cot, footlocker, glow-lamp, small holo-terminal and accompanying chair, that it contained. It was small and plain to the point of being bare but it was his. When the matron’s keen eyes noticed how his own swam with emotion , how overwhelmed he seemed to be she reached out and placed a tender hand on his shoulder, Anakin cowered hunting down to better absorb a blow that would never come. A moment later when he opened his eyes and faced her his face was red and with shame, of course she wouldn’t strike him, he was so stupid! Her face told the tale of gentle understanding married with seemingly infinite sadness. She spoke in a reedy voice infused with warmth and reassurance, “You’ve been through much young Skywalker, I know it will be difficult to adapt, but trust that you are safe here. You are home. The order frowns on attachments but even though we may only be permitted to show it distantly, we care for you.” Anakin’s eyes filled with tears that he was terrified to shed, “Why?” He asked in a small, plaintive voice. She smiled, a great, benevolent smile that reminded him of his mother, “Because…” she said as she leaned down toward him as she was imparting a piece of great wisdom “…compassion is central to a Jedi’s life, we care for each other and for those that we protect, your training will be complete when you are ready to pass compassion onto others.” Anakin blinked, unsure of what to say following such a deep statement. “Now, I hope you will join the others and I for afternoon tea later .” She pulled away slowly and began her laborious return to her office. Murmured that she would leave him to get acquainted with the space. As soon as the door shut behind her Anakin collapsed on to the bed and sobbed, flooding from his eyes to the soft linen as it muffled his sobs. Not only had the jedi given a nobody slave from Tatooine an opportunity to become one of them, but they spared a single thought toward trying to make him comfortable, no one on Tatooine save his mother had ever cared whether he was comfortable and even an amenity as basic as this would have been beyond her ability to provide. It took Anakin what felt like hours being wracked by heartbroken sobs, but was probably only a few minutes to realize that he wasn’t crying from sadness or a loss. He was crying because he know how else to react to such kindness, he had gained something of his very own, a home.

 Anakin did not fit in at the temple. He was too different from everyone else his own age, none of them could remember much of life beyond the temple, none of them carried the baggage of a lifetime lived in slavery, they did not flinch away from simple touches, or devour their food as though it might be snatched away from them without warning at any moment, they did not startle at loud noises, they were not constantly in fear of making too much noise or running too quickly, their eyes did not swim with tears in the face of even the most gentle reprimand. They were not consumed with an obsequious need to please, nor a yearning for approval, they didn’t feel driven to excel, to be perfect, merely to prove themselves worth of the opportunity to be here. No, Anakin was not like them, he was…far too much his damaged, desperate self for that.

Anakin missed his mother and struggled to make friends so he would hug the pillow to his small frame in the middle of the night as he wept from loneliness, occasionally he would think out loud to it as if it were 3PO. When he arrived at the temple that pillow was his only source of comfort, of reassurance to assuage his unvoiced but ever present doubts as to whether he truly belonged at the temple, an anchor he could reach for when he was cast adrift wondering whether he had even a fraction of the potential the other younglings did. Occasionally, he would think of the pillow like 3PO and think out loud to it. It was a silent witness to moments of weakness that he dare not display in front of anyone else, least of all Obi-Wan. The pillow become his closest confidant, it was not until years later that it became the sole sentinel of secrets of much more salacious variety.

 Anakin eventually grew more secure, more sure of his place in the temple as he grew older simply because he surpassed all the other learners in his age group at every task he was given. Students with many more years of experience struggled to lift three small stones, Anakin caused a dozen rise into the air. His classmates and struggle to use their training sabers to block blaster fire while blinded, Anakin had dueled a quartet of his classmates unable to see,  they were unimpeded…he won. By the time he was 18 it was universally acknowledged by all but his most ardent detractors that Anakin was a prodigy. He was allowed to join an advanced course on saber combat taught by slightly older students with a similar level of talent to Anakin. That was where the trouble began. Anakin hurried to one of the smaller training rooms careful to arrive at least a few minutes early but not too many as he was worried about seeming overeager.

 A strong voice that emanated from behind him commanded him to strip his underclothes. Anakin froze but only momentarily before methodically removing the tunic and leggings of his standard Jedi garb. Leena Dara was the advanced light saber combat instructor. She had an amused look on her face, as without waiting for an introduction she tossed Anakin a training saber. He had been so distracted by her beauty that he’d nearly fumbled the catch. She was tall, with a lithe muscular build. She had dark skin, eyes nearly as dark and luxurious looking hair pulled into a tight knot atop her head. Her attire made it even more difficult to focus as she wore only a sports bra and training shorts ritual tattoos crisscrossed her belly and ran the length of both her arms and legs. She said nothing, ignited her azure blade and sprang at him. Anakin barely had time to raise his own weapon before he was being pushed back across the training mats by a flurry of blows he could barely follow with his eyes, let alone counter. Anakin instinctively retreated waiting for a pause in her assault so that he could counter attack but none came, she continued advancing, or blade only stopping for the briefest of moments each time it connected with his own before she drew it back and began to batter his defenses from another angle. Since he arrived at the temple Anakin had always been of the mind that the best defense was a good offense, after enduring several irritating bouts of strikes, Anakin lashed out, aiming his training saber at her left side. She… flowed around his attack like water executing a flawless pirouette, Atticus attack connected only with empty air, he’d expected resistance not a dodge the force he put behind the blow left him overbalanced and before he could regain his footing Leena came out of her spin only to deliver a sharp kick to his midsection that sent him sprawling, Anakin’s instinct was to immediately roll to his feet and some in his blade with the force but in the pair seconds it took him to formulate that plan Leena darted forward and held her blade poised at his throat. Anakin was burning with shame and humiliation, their contest had lasted barely longer than a minute, Leena would report this to the Masters and they would see that he was no prodigy, he would be put back in his age group running through mindless practice drills that he’d mastered years ago and he deserve it for his failure. She smiled, white teeth gleaming, “You did well Anakin. All of the other basic students I fought lasted half as long as you did. I think I have an idea of where we will begin, but that was all for today. You are dismissed, get dressed.” With that she deactivated her blade and strode from the room without looking back.

  Anakin lay on the floor for a moment attempting to process what just happened to him when he felt a strange twinge in his body. It was as though he was beginning to overheat, electricity seem to dance on his skin and there was a stirring in his groin. Embarrassed all over again ,Anakin shot to his feet, dressed quickly, and hurried to his quarters. Experiencing physical arousal was not completely foreign to young Jedi but such feelings were a path to the dark side, well before puberty learners were taught meditation techniques to separate themselves from these base instincts of their bodies. Many never seemed to feel even the slightest twinge of arousal, Anakin thought that maybe it had something to do with rituals that were performed when they were brought to the temple as babies, another facet of temple life that he had missed out on and one that would’ve taken care of his present situation. Anakin sat crossed legged on the floor his back against his sleeping cot, focusing on taking deep, meaningful breaths pushing away emotion in favor of peace, the chaos of his body in favor of serenity. Only his mind was far from serene. His breathing patterns were interrupted every few seconds as he flashed back to his duel with Leena. How she had looked, the ferocity of her attacks, and the quiet complement that had dulled the keen edges of the shame of his defeat. His resistance shattered and he was immediately overcome by heat.

He rieses on shaky legs stripped with detached ease and threw himself back on the bed. He felt as though he was running the most intense fever as if Tatooine’s twin suns were burning him from the inside out. Anakin made a dizzy attempt to reach for the blanket, to cover his indecent, rebellious, naked form, to simply sleep off whatever insidious infection had a hold of him. As he reached down the pads of his fingers brushed along the fine hair of his legs and he let out an involuntary whimper. For just a moment the heat had receded. Anakin knew what masturbation was of course, the archives contained treatise on the physiology of every species the order had encountered throughout its millennia long history and included was information on reproductive cycles. There were anthropological studies documenting cultures which worshiped sexual pleasure, yes Anakin had a theoretical knowledge of what he had started to do but no practical experience. Driven solely by instinct, as with every challenge he’d ever met Anakin eagerly rushed forward. He started low, rubbing the sole of one foot against another while one hand ran lazily up his leg, he runs his hand through his pubic hair enjoying the prickle of sensation that came with it. He struggled to swallow a moan. He lays the lightest of touches against his cock which was already leaking  pre-cum onto his abs, forming a small pool in his navel. He gives a few lazy strokes of his shaft, the heat reaches the boiling point As the pads of his fingers run just under the head of his cock his body tenses and he comes with a small shout cum flowing from his twitching cock, Anakin struggles to catch his breath and watches mesmerized as his muscles clench and release, clench and release and for one beautiful moment he’s free of the fire.

  It returns with a vengeance before you can even begin to contemplate the shame of what he’s done and how he’s going to clean this mess he feels himself harden again, never having gone completely soft. Anakin’s eyelashes flutter as hand reaches down of its own accord and begins to toy with his balls, he has no conscious idea of what he’s doing, no strategy, but his body seems to know itself. He elicits whimpers from his own mouth as he pinches and pulls at the sensitive skin there stroking the shaft in time with his movements. Each gentle tug at the sensitive skin sends of ripple of pleasure up his body in his room is filled with the sounds of low quiet groans. He starts flicking his wrist at each pull up his shaft, the change in feel has him chattering and gasping. With one particularly strong pull at his balls Anakin is coming again, much more intensely than the first time. His breathing is overtaken in a series of gasps and groans. Still the flame does not abate, his belly is covered with his own seed and still is bodies unsatisfied.

  He runs an unsteady hand from his cock up to his chest luxuriating in the feel of his come against his sensitive fingers. He reaches his right nipple and nearly cries with pleasure. He forces his mouth shut and grits teeth as he begins twisting and pulling at both nipples, it feels as though he’s being electrocuted from the inside, he feels the ghosts of the sensations in his nipples floated his caulk his legs crossed and uncrossed themselves his thighs clench and release his abdomen tightens and relaxes in time with his ministrations. He pulls and pinches in his nipples feeling as though he’s been drugged by some heady aphrodisiac, he teases the sensitive knobs of flesh with his fingers until they’re both rock hard, he has a sudden idea and pinches and twists both of them in unison. Lightning strikes his body as he is dragged through another orgasm teeth clenched and pleasure bordering on pain as his caulk produces yet more come, this time completely untouched. Anakin has but a moment of peace before the fire is scorching at him again. He’s confused, from what he knows of this process one orgasm should have been more than enough to relieve him, two excessive, three absolute overkill.

 Yet as he glances down at himself he sees his cock still standing straight up, covered in a tantalizing mixture of pre-come and cum. He reached down and began stroking himself again, but it was though the fire were telling him that it would not be satisfied with more of the same. He swipes his fingers down his shaft and as if in a trance brings them to his mouth, tasting himself. The feel makes Anakin’s hips buck of their own accord and he sucks greedily at his own fingers. He goes down for another helping, exchanging spit and cum with himself. He latches onto his fingers as he rubs his cock with the palm of his hand, resting in between a few of his fingers squeezing lightly. His own taste and the new sensation of pressure on his cock forces a moan out of him that becomes a whimper when he remembers where he is and bites his tongue harshly enough that he tastes blood mixed with his seed. The taste makes him come.

  Anakin is barely conscious for a moment but the fire is taken on new strength as if demanding one final tribute before it will release him from its infernal hold. Anakin is a loss, he doesn’t do what more he can do to appease the flame inside of him. He’s burning though, the desire to come again has become painful he whimpers and tears trickled from his eyes, in desperation he reaches back and his trembling hands find his pillow. In a flash he knows what he has to do, he flips over places the pillow underneath him and begins to rub himself against it. The novel texture makes him shudder as goosebumps breakout up and down his body, the only sounds he can make are stuttering gasps as he works the pillow against him luxuriating in the friction. This gentle, exploratory pace will not satisfy the flame. He thrust his hips hard against the pillow, nearly screaming at the feel of it as it gives way and sinks to surround his cock with each thrust. Anakin is dizzy now his hips moving at a frantic pace as he chases the final high, all throughout his body’s muscles tighten he feels it in his chest, his legs, his feet, his ass. His skin feels as though it has a life of its own, like tiny pinpricks of lightning dancing on his nerve endings, a chorus warming up to sing a final triumphant falsetto note. Sweat pours from him and the feel of it running down his back is divine. With a scream he reaches his final climax as his hips pound the pillow. Objects all over his room crash to the floor as he lets out an involuntary wave of force power. Tears stream down his face. He loses control of his body, muscles seizing and he can’t hold himself up. Euphoria floods his system, at first coming from everywhere and then intensifying at the epicenter of his caulk as it pours wave after wave of cum onto the pillow, he twitches, and writhes and pants. Desperation making him chase the hi little bit longer. He looks down at the pillow as his cock continues to drench it in a deluge of cum, he looks down at the wrong moment however as with one final shot his cock shoots his cum onto his face, his brows, his cheeks, his lips, his neck, his chest, and finally down forming a great pool in the valley of his stomach. Anakin finally has something to chase the noise out of his head: pleasure.

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

You’ve Got Mail: Jungkook One Shot

Request: Hi! I really love your writings! If your requests are still open, can you pls write a Jungkook story? Ex-lovers in high school where he broke up with her because he got bored or something like that. Then they met again in university and wants her back again. (Angst but happy ending pls). Thank you!

Description: After a messy breakup with high school heartthrob Jeon Jungkook, you swore off dating once you got into college. Even though it left you lonely, it was easier than being hurt. But one fateful blind date changes everything for you, and you realize that maybe isolation isn’t the answer either.

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, Non-Idol!Au, Ex-Lovers to Enemies to Lovers (? I guess? Haha)

Genre: Whole lotta angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: None!

A/N: It’s been two weeks since I’ve posted wtf!! But I’m back and less than a week away from the Rose Bowl concert, holy cow. This ask has been in my inbox for MONTHS, so I need to say thank you to the anon who sent it for waiting so long! I really enjoyed this request, so I hope you guys like it too!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/plzpunchmebts. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be posting concert videos and pics there, so please give it a follow if you’d like to see that!

- Mercury

You were never too keen on blind dates. Everything about them felt…artificial. It wasn’t that you were a romantic, not especially, but you had to admit that being forced on a date by meddlesome friends took some of the magic out of dating. When Sua had mentioned a cute new boy in her class who was too busy studying to date, you had to admit the red flags began waving in your mind. Of course, you could relate. College was taxing and it was difficult to find time to even eat three meals, let alone date. Perhaps if things had cropped up organically, you’d have been more excited. But the forced union was a little cumbersome.

The nerves and the insecurity and the fear, none of it was especially fun. But Sua had been adamant that the two of you would hit it off, and with her eyes round and expectant, her brows raised, and her lips pouted, you really didn’t have any room to deny her. You figured one night of discomfort was better than months of guilt, and even though you figured things wouldn’t work out with this mystery man, you’d humor your friend. After all, making friends in college wasn’t easy.

Making friends in general wasn’t easy.

You sighed as you waited with your chilly hands clasped around your phone, standing at the entrance to the subway station where Sua had instructed. The mouth of the entrance was muggy with exiting passengers as the wave of people clambered up the steep stairs and onto the street, lined on all sides by buildings that reached the sky. Every now and again, someone would graze their shoulder against yours without apology, or perhaps step on the toe of your sneaker. You took a few inching steps backward, glancing over your shoulder to be sure you wouldn’t hit anyone. Not that they’d care. You backed up until you were out of the streamline and instead took up a quieter spot beside a fish cake vendor.

You checked your phone once again, furrowing your brow. Sue said eleven, didn’t she? You pulled up your messages and scrolled through carefully, head tilted to the side as you read her most recent text.

Sua: He said he’s running a little late, but he told me to tell you to wait.

You: I am waiting…

Sua: He says he’s sorry and that the subway is close to the terminal now.

You: That’s good.

Sua: He says sorry again.

Sua: You know, this is kinda dumb. Let me just give you his number so you can text him.

Sua: 51-XXX-XX24

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest. Sua was right, anyway. Making her your proxy wouldn’t really do you much good, considering she wasn’t here to help you in person. But wouldn’t it be a bit forward to just…text this guy? You didn’t know him yet. And besides, what could you say that Sua hadn’t? Hey, I’m doing this out of obligation, sorry to disappoint! or you can just go back home now and we can tell Sua things didn’t work out. You shook your head and rubbed your fingertip along the screen of your phone, working your lower lip between your teeth. You were just looking for an out. And really, you didn’t want to bail after Sua had gone through the trouble of setting things up. Still, just texting a stranger was a little…

But then again, he’d agreed to the blind date too, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like you were someone he was forced to talk to. He’d come on his own accord. Rubbing your bare forearm in the spring breeze with one hand, you used the other to tap the phone number and save it and, with only your index finger, drafted a slow message.

You: Hey, I’m Sua’s friend. I think we’re supposed to have a blind date today? Haha. That sounded kind of awkward…

Within seconds, your phone dinged with an incoming text and you jumped, nervous, before glancing at your phone once more.

Blind Date: Oh! Haha, hello. It wasn’t awkward at all. Ahh, I’m really sorry I’m late. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into a cyclist and he gave me an earful so I missed the first subway.

Blind Date: But I’m one stop away! You’re outside exit 2 right?

You: Yeah! I’m next to a fish cake stall. I’m wearing a red blouse, so you can’t miss me :-)

Damn, you thought, was that smiley face too much? You picked at the skin around your nail and glanced up to see the near-constant flow of people was still in full force, the subway exit spitting pedestrians onto the cement sidewalk in droves. You squinted a little, trying to keep a good visual on the staircase leading out. With a sigh, you leaned over your bag to slip your phone inside when it buzzed again. Despite yourself, your heart raced and you eagerly unlocked it to see if he’d responded.

Blind Date: Cute! Let’s get some fish cakes then before we go to the movie.

Blind Date: Ah, subway just pulled in! I’m only a few sweaty staircases away now~

Blind Date: :P

Without meaning to, you smiled a little. Your nerves settled as you leaned on your right foot, grinning softly at your screen. He seemed like a good guy, at least. You were relieved. After the jerks you dated in high school, you’d sworn off dating for a while. Maybe trying to cleanse your palate. It was…oddly refreshing to be talking to someone who didn’t make you feel like you weren’t all that important. Like you were disposable.

Still smiling, you responded with a simple text.

You: I’m excited to meet you :-D

“Y/N?” asked a familiar voice from beside you.

A voice that sent chills up your spine, and not the good kind.

You stiffened and turned, eyes wide, toward the one person you’d been hoping fervently to avoid for life. Standing with his big, brown eyes wide and his hair slightly windswept, Jeon Jungkook stared down at you like you were a ghost. Your lips parted and, heart hammering, you opened and closed your jaw a few times. What were you supposed to say to the boy who broke your heart when you were sixteen?

Years later and he was still the heartthrob he’d been back then, only now he looked…like a man. His cheekbones were prominent, strong jaw, heavy brow and a serious, toned build like he’d lived at the gym in the years between your meetings.

You swallowed hard and slipped your phone in your bag, crossing your arms and thus closing yourself to him. You glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. “Jungkook,” you said with a sigh. “I’m actually waiting here for someone and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, so if you could-,”

“You’re on a blind date?” asked Jungkook, lips agape.

You shrugged, glancing down the sidewalk toward the open maw of the subway exit, squinting in the hopes of catching your date’s attention. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Wait, but-,”

You sighed and shut him up with a single look his way, sharp, venomous. “I’m gonna to wait someplace else if you’re gonna keep standing beside me.”

“No, it’s not-,”

You huffed and shuffled into the crowd once more, walking purposefully away from him, but Jungkook was hot on your tail and wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Every few paces, you’d glance over your shoulder and see him following you feverishly, angling himself through the narrow spaces between bodies. But you kept going, pushing through, until you were blocks away from the subway station and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You exhaled long and slow, patting your chest to calm down, and veered off toward the shops on your right, taking cover beneath an awning. Something in your bag vibrated and you jumped. Shit. Your date. The spring day sun was warm on your hands as you fumbled with your bag, grabbing your phone once again.

Blind Date: Where did you go??

You gripped your nose bridge and exhaled through your nose. Of course he’d be confused. You were lucky he was nice enough to reach out at all after seeing you weren’t where you said you’d be. You typed your reply quickly, desperate not to hurt his feelings.

You: God, I’m SO sorry. I ran into someone…from a long time ago lol. I couldn’t shake him off, so I ended up down the street a few blocks. By a Burger King.

You: I’m making a really bad impression, huh? I’m sorry. Just…he’s the LAST person I wanted to see today, you know?

You: Or…well, ever haha.

You awaited a response with bated breath, brows knit, and chewed on the inside of your cheek. This blind date was a wild card, really. Since you didn’t know him yet, you didn’t know how he’d respond. And it wouldn’t be his fault if he decided you weren’t worth all the hassle. Honestly, you might’ve been a little relieved if that was the case. Running into Jungkook…it made you remember why you avoided dating.

But despite your expectations, your phone buzzed again and you jumped to grab it.

Blind Date: This person…you really didn’t want to see him?

You: No. It’s just a painful reminder of the past.

You: !!! God, I keep saying awkward things !!! Haha, please forget I said anything. Where are you?

Blind Date: No! It’s not awkward at all. I’m just…

Blind Date: I’m sorry you had to see him then, I guess.

You: Jeez…

You: You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you?

Blind Date: Haha! I don’t know about that…

Blind Date: How about we reschedule for another time? I get the feeling you wouldn’t really be up for a movie right now anyway.

You panicked, heart kicking up. Despite everything you told yourself, you were a little bit happy he was being so understanding. And even though you were scared, you wanted to see if…well…if maybe this guy might be different.

You shook your head. Of course you shouldn’t think that way. Putting your heart out there to be toyed with and thrown aside…you didn’t want to go through it. Not really. And what relationship could be worth all that? You sucked in your breath and typed a quick response, ready to cast Jungkook and this blind date into the banks of your memory to gather dust. Even if this guy did seem sweet…

So had Jungkook, at first.

You: Yeah. That’s probably for the best. I work at that coffeeshop on campus, so I’ll shoot you a text once I get my schedule. :-)

You: I’m sorry for all the trouble today. Seriously.

You sighed and turned on your heel toward the street. If you kept on this sidewalk for a few more blocks, you’d find exit 3. And from there, it was only a 20-minute subway ride home whereupon you could finally collapse on your couch and wait for this cursed weekend to be over.

But before you could take a single step, a text came.

Blind Date: It was no trouble. :D I just feel bad that you had an unpleasant experience…

You: Hey, it’s not your fault haha.

You: Oh yeah! I never gave you my name, did I?

Blind Date: No, actually. Haha.

You: It’s Y/N.

Blind Date: It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N.

Blind Date: You can call me Nochu.

You: … Nochu … ?

Blind Date: Haha, it’s weird huh?

Blind Date: It’s a nickname I prefer.

You: Ah! I see. I’ll call you that then.

You: Nochu.

Blind Date: Y/N :-)

You stood and placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, groaning, a week later. Classes had been dragging lately and with several coworkers sick with a cold, you were one of the only employees left who wasn’t too ill to work. Your body felt like it was slowly failing you. Even your feet were sore from constantly running from place to place. And the quiet coffee shop before you made you feel like taking a long and well-needed nap. Mismatched chairs and bistro tables littered the trendy place and students congregated around the windows or the fireplace or the used bookshelf. Nobody really bothered you except to order or ask for to-go coffee sleeves. Mostly, you just stood there. For hours. Watching everything and nothing at once.

But today the energy was a little different. You’d heard from Sua that the graphic design students were approaching an important deadline, and from the looks of the crowd it seemed that deadline was heavy on everyone’s minds. Laptops and drawing tablets and plenty of coffee littered the tables as students chatted in small groups, none of them looking all too happy. You wondered what the project was, but didn’t want to bother Sua with a useless question. So instead, you just watched over customer’s shoulders as they added thick white lines to separate sections of illustrations or grabbed whole images with slender styluses and slid them to new spaces.

“Excuse me?”

You jumped and turned to the queue which up until moments ago had been completely empty. You made sure to manage your expression with a tight smile and bowed your head. “Sorry,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes to meet the customer.

And, to your shock and horror, you saw a familiar face amongst the group of thee college-aged boys. Jeon Jungkook stood in the middle, a half-pace behind the guy who had roused your attention, and if his expression was anything to go by, he was just as horrified to see you as you were to see him. You felt your back go perfectly straight, eyes wide and lips parted through which only shallow exhales escaped. Your palms grew sweaty and your heart thump-thumped to an uneven cadence.

“Um, what can I make for you?” you asked finally, managing a tight smile at the speaker of the group whose attention was affixed to the sign above your head, reading the menu with squinted eyes. “If you need more time…,” you hedged, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze which you felt burning circles into your face.

“Ah, no I’ve got it,” said the first guy with a polite smile your way. “I’ll have a green tea latte.”

You nodded and wrote it down on your notepad, just to keep things straight. Had your coworkers been stronger in their constitution, you’d have given the order to one of them to get started on. Perhaps you’d even get started yourself and leave the cashiering to them. But alas, you were alone and painfully aware of it.

“Will you be paying separately or together?” you asked, a tinge of hope in your voice. Please say together, please say together, please say together, you thought over and over, like an endless mantra.

The first boy chuckled and gave Jungkook’s shoulder a firm punch. “Like I’ll pay for these good-for-nothings,” he joked before returning his attention to you, smiling. He had a kind smile, but even that did little to ease your anxieties. You simply nodded and took his card as he stretched it out toward you.

The second guy approached, another brown-haired college kid with a polite grin and baggy spring clothes, and hummed. “I’ll do the caramel macchiato,” he said with a nod, fingers still clasping his chin as he scanned the menu and you scribbled his order. “Ah!” he said, pointing at you. You jumped, still on edge with adrenaline coursing through you, but quickly settled with a smile. “And a slice of banana bread.”

“Banana bread,” you mumbled to yourself as you wrote it. “Okay.”

The second handed you a credit card which you swiped quickly, eager to get this whole encounter over with. He took it back with a bow and a smile which you struggled to return because the moment you glanced over his shoulder you caught Jungkook’s gaze, intense, warm browns peering at you like you held answers he’d been searching for. Despite yourself, you blushed and glanced back toward your notepad.

Finally, the moment of reckoning arrived and your nerves made your hands a little shaky as they clasped the pen and paper. Your eyes wavered around the space between your own hands, measuring the empty air, desperate not to look at Jungkook again.

“Um…,” he mumbled, voice a low rumble in his chest. You almost wanted to squeeze your eyes shut altogether, even though you knew how dumb that’d make you look. “Can I get a strawberry smoothie?”

You almost laughed. It was so like him to come to a coffeeshop and order something like that. It was so like him to still have a weak palate when it came to bitter things. It was so like him to chase after you that day, to show up here on coincidence. It was so like him to be exactly who you remembered him to be. Exactly who he was back then.

Slowly, once you’d written his order down, you lifted your eyes and looked at him properly at last. He was dressed well, casual as you expected, all black as you expected, handsome as you expected. His hair was half-styled out of his eyes, and those eyes were the problem really. Dark and depthless, staring down at you with furrowed brow, jaw clenched. If anyone had doubts you two knew each other before, they’d certainly know now with the way he was watching you. The way he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“Um…yeah,” he responded, blinking at you like he had more to say.

By then, his friends had begun setting up camp amongst the mismatched sofas and recliners, setting up their computers. You caught sight of a drawing tablet as its corner poked out the top of the first boy’s backpack. So they were design majors too? Maybe your blind date had met one of these guys, then. But wait. If his friends were, did that mean…

“You’re a design major?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

But once you said it, you wished to suck the words back inside like tapioca balls through a straw because across Jungkook’s face flashed a brief glimmer of excitement, eyes wide, mouth already open and poised to respond.

“Yeah!” he said, smiling a little. “I…uh, well you remember how I liked to draw.”

You nodded, typing the total into your cash register. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry about-,”

“Let’s not rehash things here,” you said, eyeing him from beneath your lashes, scanning the shop like a conspirator in search of any prying eyes, any listening ears. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve both moved on so let’s just keep it at that.”

Jungkook shut his mouth and, after a long moment, sighed. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. You hazarded a glance up at him and found his eyes long-sighted, gazing down at the counter between you without really looking at it.

“It’ll be 3,500 won,” you said, holding out one hand towards him.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if returning to himself, and yanked his wallet from the front pocket of his loose joggers. He pulled out a bill and handed it to you. 20,000. Was that the smallest bill he had on him? You examined it with a thinly-veiled scowl. Of course, he was probably making good money doing something impressive. That was Jungkook anyway. The type of guy who just…made things come to him. Like the universe responded to his will. You sighed and went to work on the old register, punching in the amount and sliding the bill inside. You produced his change to find him already bounding toward his friends with his broad back to you.

Panicked, you rushed to the side of the barista station and called out to him. “Hey! You forgot your change!” you shouted, cupping one hand around your mouth. A few patrons turned to look at you and Jungkook.

He barely glanced back at you when he said, “You can keep it.”

And suddenly you were blushing for a very different reason.

That jerk, you thought to yourself as you watched him plug away at some ad he was working on on his tablet. Evening had fallen slowly upon the city of Seoul, and you wanted nothing more than to stroll out into the lavender evening, forgetting this whole unpleasant day. But instead, you had to wait for your coworker, Sora, to relieve you after making you work fifteen minutes past the end of your shift. Scowling, you kept a hawk’s eye on Jungkook and, unbeknownst to him, wished silent curses upon his head. I hope you go bald, you thought. Or worse, I hope you go out for fried chicken and you get only tendons. You crossed your arms and lolled your head to the side.

You shouldn’t have expected Jungkook to change. He’d always been a ‘my pace’ kind of guy. Maybe leaving that tip was his way of flexing his money to you. That he had enough money to just throw around at random baristas he used to hook up with in high school. Or maybe he was pitying you, looking down on you for working such a menial job. Either way, it made your blood boil. You felt the money crinkle in the pocket of your jeans with every step.

You’d briefly considered spitting in his smoothie, but you didn’t want to lose your job over Jeon Jungkook.

After all, you’d already lost your youth to the kid.

You glanced outside and watched the rainclouds gathering. Of course, you’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. It wasn’t like you’d checked the weather on the way out. Grumpily, you glanced down at your phone to check the time. Twenty minutes late now. What did Sora have to do that was so important? Normally, you’d complain to a friend. But Sua was about the closest you had these days and you weren’t sure you could trouble her with it.

But…were you really friends if you didn’t reach out to her from time to time?

Sighing, you glanced around the shop, making sure nobody was watching you, and unlocked your phone. So much had already happened that a quick message didn’t seem reasonable, but you couldn’t very well bury your head in your phone so after every few clicks you’d sweep your gaze around. You settled for an anxious few words between nervous glances at the rest of the shop. Realistically, you were off the clock anyway. But you didn’t want any bad Yelp reviews on your behalf.

You: Sua, on God today is cursed.

You waited a few moments for a response before growing impatient. Everything was taking forever today: that interaction with Jungkook, Sora taking over your shift, and now Sua not responding. Of course, she had no obligation to. She was probably busy with her own preparation much like the other graphic design students. You had no right to expect that of her.

Wasn’t that your problem from the start? Expecting too much?

Your phone buzzed in response as your mind began to drift toward melancholy thoughts and as you slid it open your eyes went wide and your fingertips chilled as the blood rushed to your cheeks.

Blind Date: Hah…I’m not Sua, but I am willing to listen if you need it…?

Blind Date: Was wondering when I’d hear from you.

Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. You cupped a hand over your lips in horror, and just as you were about to melt into a pile of melted pride on the floor, the door swung open and a breathless Sora met your eyes with a nervous smile. You swallowed hard and pocketed your phone, offering Sora your full attention. He bowed his head to you, bending at the waist, as he approached the counter.

“I am so sorry for being late!” he shouted, loud enough for every patron to glance at him and, subsequently, you.

Your flushed face went beet red as Jungkook turned to stare at you, eyes wide. Of course, another embarrassing moment in front of that guy. “U-um, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving your hands.

He sniffled and looked up at you, eyes red with impending tears. “I really didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep after class today and-,”

“Sora, it’s cool,” you said, removing your apron and hanging it on the rack behind you. “I’m gonna go now though so I can catch my subway.”

Sora stiffened and nodded, giving you a salute before scampering behind the counter and putting on his own apron. “I really am sorry!” he called after you.

You waved a hand and rushed out onto the sidewalk, lingering beneath the awning as the rain began to drizzle from overhead. You returned your attention to your phone, pushing your hair behind your ears so you could see properly, and swallowed your nerves.

You: I…am such an idiot.

You: I’m so sorry. I was at work and I’m not supposed to be on my phone, but I just…

You: Jesus, honestly you can just delete my number. I don’t think I can look at your contact anymore without cringing.

You were poised to take a step out into the rain when your phone vibrated again and you jumped to read it with barely shaking hands.

Blind Date: No! It’s okay. Seriously.

Blind Date: I can list dumber things I’ve done today alone.

Blind Date: Besides, sounds like you need someone to talk to anyway…?

You blinked at your phone screen a few times, cocking your head to the side. Somehow, his words had calmed you down, just a little. Your flaming cheeks were cooler now when you poked one with the pad of your finger. Your heart wasn’t a hammer against your ribcage. And as you glanced over your shoulder at the window into the coffeeshop, you found Jungkook was no longer in sight. With a few texts alone, things seemed a little better.

You: I won’t bore you with all of it, haha.

You: It was more of a Sua story anyway I think.

You: I’m trying to break through that kinda hesitant first stage of friendship with her and

You: Well anyway, I’m sorry to bother you. Hope you’re doing good?

Blind Date: Haha, hey I get it. Friendships are weird. Took me a while to make any real friends this year since I was so shy.

You: You were shy?

Blind Date: Oh big time. I still don’t really know how to approach people without saying or doing something wrong.

Blind Date: Like today. I think I came across like an asshole to someone.

Blind Date: That happens a lot actually -_-

Blind Date: Being nervous makes me act weird.

You: Really? You sound really confident over text.

Blind Date: Haha really? That’s good to hear at least.

Blind Date: I’m about the least confident person I know.

Blind Date: Whew, not exactly the impression I wanted to give to a possible date! Oops.

You smiled at your phone and began typing out a response when the door by your hip swung open and out walked Jungkook and his friends. Jungkook caught your eye as your smile was slipping into a scowl and you quickly righted yourself, looking away down the busy street. You held your phone close to your chest and popped a hip out to the side, feigning disinterest.

“See you guys tomorrow,” said one boy.

“Yeah,” responded Jungkook, and you saw out the corner of your eye that the guys parted ways. Jungkook lingered beside you underneath the awning, watching you keenly. “Who were you texting?” he asked.

You stiffened and glanced up at him with a frown. “Is that any of your business?” you asked.

He flushed a little, rubbed the back of his head, and let out a few breathy laughs. “Sorry. Guess not,” he said with a sigh.

For a few moments the two of you just stood there, silent. You weren’t sure what to do next without an umbrella, and you didn’t want Jungkook to think you were just…spending time with him for fun. But still, you didn’t move or make a sound. Just watched the steadily increasing rainfall splatter against the pavement, gathering in pools beside the sidewalk.

“Listen,” he began, turning to you properly. You eyed him from below with raised brows. “I really don’t want any bad energy between us, okay? I know things were messy before, but we’re in college now. It’s been years, right?” Some of the tension between you broke, but it was quickly replaced by a new tension: your outrage.

You blinked at him, working your jaw. “Jungkook, you don’t get to tell me when I’m allowed to stop being hurt,” you said, shaking your head. “Seeing you is a little painful, even though it’s been a long time. So…maybe just ignore me.”

Jungkook sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I am.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t really want anything to do with you,” you said, meeting his eyes. Your own calm surprised you. He looked desperate, brows knit and lips parted. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just leave me alone.”

He blinked a few times, eyes wide. “I…I mean, we go to the same school now and everything. I just transferred this year and it’s…I don’t really know many people. It’s not like we’re strangers, so why should we act like we are?”

You swallowed your anger. “I’m gonna go now,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking out into the rain. You turned to look at him. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying, so it’s not worth repeating it again in a different way. Just…leave me alone.”

But before you could take a single step toward the subway entrance three blocks away, Jungkook was beside you in the rain, fiddling with his umbrella. “Wh-what are you doing? I just said to leave me alone!” you called at him over the sound of the rain around you.

Jungkook spat rainwater out from between his lips and shook his head as the umbrella finally popped open and the rain stopped pummeling you, now ricocheting off the nylon. You stared up at Jungkook underneath the dark umbrella, confined beneath it, confined to this small, enclosed space. Your chest was nearly touching his arm and his breath was warm as it fanned across your face. Strawberries. Like his smoothie. Rain was caught in his long eyelashes and his rosy lips were still parted, cheeks a warm pink. He stared down at you and for a brief moment, you felt a hot, shooting sensation running from the top of your head to your toes.

“Let me walk you to the station at least,” he said, scanning you.

You felt a little faint, and the sweet scent of his cologne only made you more disoriented. “I’m fine. It’s only a few blocks,” you said, but even you could admit your voice sounded weak.

He sighed, eyes falling to the ground. “I know I hurt you a lot back then, but…,” he began, then shook his head. “Even if it’s small, I wanna make it up to you somehow. So…let me walk you.”

You rubbed your bare forearm and inhaled sharply, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Fine,” you forced out and the two of you began walking.

“So…,” said Jungkook after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “How was your date the other day?”

You groaned. “What we’re not gonna do is this.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just curious.”

You watched your hands, clasped in front of you, and sighed. “It didn’t happen,” you said. If nothing else, at least your time with Jungkook made you remarkably comfortable talking to him about your thoughts and feelings. “We cancelled.”

“Why?” he asked, brows high.

You shrugged. “After seeing you, I was kinda crabby so…”

“It was my fault?” He pointed with his free hand to his own chest, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah but not really,” you said with an easy exhale. “It’s for the best anyway. He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t wanna end up hurting his feelings or something.”

“You’d rather be alone than risk having things end badly?” he asked.

You peered up at him. “Wonder why that is,” you mumbled before glancing away.

He sighed. “Sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The rest of the walk was silent as the two of you were forced to simply live with the words you’d exchanged, unable to do anything to alter the events that led you here. All you could do was walk forward, united under a shared umbrella for just a moment, until you ducked out from beneath it and disappeared down the subway station stairs, not even pausing for a moment to wave or say goodbye.

Blind Date: Yikes, did I really scare you off?

You raised your brows at your phone screen as the subway bumped along. It was too crowded to find a seat, so you stood cramped between a stout businessman and a high school girl, all of you holding the railing overhead for stability. You couldn’t help it, but again you smiled. After all the craziness that had come from the day, this stranger seemed to help you feel at ease.

You: Haha nope! It’d take more than that.

You: I bumped into someone I didn’t want to see, so I had to take care of that.

Blind Date: !!! Same person as before??

You: Yeah, if you can believe it lol.

Blind Date: (o_O)

Blind Date: How unlucky can a person be?

You: That’s what I’m saying. (￢_￢;)

You: That’s actually one of the things I was gonna complain to Sua about.

You: Y’know, teenage heartbreak and high school angst. Etc.

Blind Date: Hey, I said it before. I’d love to listen!

Blind Date: Aight, that was too enthusiastic. How about: I wouldn’t mind hearing you out!

You: Lol, good addendum.

You: I mean, it’s not like it’s really that serious. Just…in high school I was really shy. I didn’t have very many friends and I thought that I was fine on my own, you know?

You: But I guess I was lonelier than I thought haha. There was this really handsome guy in my class who started sitting with me on the roof at lunch. At first, neither of us really said anything. Just…sitting together.

You: But after a while, we got pretty close. Half a school year maybe. He said he came up there because the air was nice, but I had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he was a little too popular for his own good. Everyone wanted to talk to him. But he was like me.

You: Introverted, I mean.

Blind Date: Sounds like you two were good friends, then?

You: Yeah, until I caught feelings lol. Mistake.

Blind Date: You confessed??

You: Hehe…yes.

You: After a while being close, I felt really comfortable telling him anything. I told him it wasn’t like I was expecting him to date me or anything. I just wanted him to know so he could be a little more careful around me.

You: But it seemed like he reciprocated.

You: We started dating…I guess?

You: Never put a label on it, which was another mistake on my part for not asking.

You: But we did everything couples did, just…not really in front of anyone from school.

You: Never asked about that either lol.

Blind Date: Oh…

Blind Date: I mean…that doesn’t sound so good…

You: Haha, it’s probably exactly what it sounds like because once we’d been together for about a year, he ended things really suddenly. We were getting ready to apply for colleges and he was gonna go for one in a different city. He said it wouldn’t work out.

You: I fought really hard for it, but he started saying pretty mean things and I didn’t want to get hurt so I ended up conceding.

Blind Date: Mean things?

You: Things I don’t really wanna type out haha…

Blind Date: Shit! Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.

You: Hey, don’t worry! Old wounds. I should probably get over it, really.

You: No time like the present!

You: He said he never really liked me and he was only with me because he felt bad for me. Didn’t really love hearing that.

You: He said because I didn’t have friends, he pitied me. That was why he went to the roof to eat with me. Why he kissed me and all that. Took me on dates. ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌  Pretty dumb, imo, but that’s what he said and it seemed like he meant it anyway lol.

Blind Date: Y/N…

You: Hey, you asked!

Blind Date: That’s really shitty. You didn’t deserve that.

Blind Date: You carried that around with you all these years?

You: Hah, admitting it sounds kinda pathetic, huh?

You: I guess it’s not the sort of thing you just…get over. I think I really loved him too, so…

You: Anyway, seeing him now is really weird. Never thought I’d see him around here again, but suddenly he’s everywhere haha. Definitely doesn’t feel great, tbh.

You: Ew, sorry for laying all that on you. Not exactly small talk.

Blind Date: No!! Don’t apologize. I’m glad you talked to me about it. Honestly…I feel really sorry for you. It sounds like the whole thing affected you a lot. :-(

Blind Date: If it makes you feel better, I think I can understand you a little!

Blind Date: Like I said, I’m a bit shy myself. It’s not an issue of having friends, but finding good ones. It’s hard for me to socialize without saying something dumb and regretting it. So for a while, when I first started college, I isolated myself a lot. I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

Blind Date: But recently, I’ve met some people who are really kind. People who don’t judge me when I mess things up (which is often haha). They help me communicate better.

You: You communicate really well, I think :-)

Blind Date: Haha, thank you. I’m actually blushing a little, whew. Uh, I guess it’s because it’s easier to type things out. Speaking is hard because you can’t just reword things before sending them. You say it out loud and it’s forever, you know?

You: Yeah! Jeez, that actually happened to me today (—_—)

You: I’m glad someone else understands it lol

Blind Date: Yeah, me too.

By the time you received the last message, you were already back inside your apartment, soaked from the walk home. You’d used your bag to cover your phone as you walked and typed, so now the thing was slumped against your dining chair like a sopping wet creature. But still, you smiled at your phone. Even though the conversation with Jungkook had been jarring, you’d almost forgotten it after chatting with your blind date. It felt oddly vulnerable to reveal so much to him, but his reaction had been really reassuring. You set your phone aside and padded to the bathroom to dry yourself a little with a towel, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were a little flushed, eyes clear, and still smiling. You shook your head, trying to shake off your grin, but when you glanced back at your reflection it was still the same.

With the towel dangling across your shoulders, you returned to the living room and saw your phone lit up with another new text. Smiling, you unlocked it and read what he had to say.

Blind Date: Off topic, but uh…

Blind Date: Did you happen to catch the most recent episode of Game of Thrones?

Blind Date: Because I need to talk about it or I might explode.

You raised your brows and, without meaning to, you laughed. Was this okay? Was it alright to become close to someone like this again? Was it alright to be excited about someone again? You were fearful, cautious, hesitant. After everything with Jungkook, you’d found it impossible to trust people’s intentions. Were they being nice to you because they liked you or because they felt bad for you? Would you get hurt if you trusted the goodwill of the people around you?

You: Um…

You: CAN WE TALK ABOUT ARYA???

You weren’t going to talk to him again.

Well…that was your intention anyway. But by Friday, you’d spent every night up late chatting with this Nochu guy. It wasn’t like you talked about anything all that interesting or profound. Music you liked, games you played, anime you watched. You’d spent the better portion of Thursday night talking about whether Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was superior. You weren’t sure why you were compelled to respond every time his name lit up your phone. And you really weren’t sure why you were the one reaching out to him now as you sat watching your professor detail the process of molecular movement across a cell membrane.

Perhaps you’d missed making easy conversation with someone you liked talking to…

After high school, you’d become something of a recluse. You spent more nights in than out and despite doing well in your classes, you’d found yourself…slightly lonesome. That’s why when Sua gave you her number after you’d successfully finished a project together a few months ago, you’d been quick to take it. Even though it was a little scary, some small part of you wanted to trust people again.

And maybe that’s why too. Why you were sending this stupid text in the middle of your lecture.

You: Hey dude. You free today?

Blind Date: Hm? Why?

You: Idk, Burger King or smth?

Blind Date: Hehe, are you trying to revive our dead romance?

You: O.O Our romance died already? After one failed date?

Blind Date: Hahaha I mean…you can try giving it CPR if you want…?

Blind Date: Mouth-to-mouth ;-D

You: Yuck, I take it back. Our romance is dead and buried.

You: Anyway, you free?

Blind Date: Uh yeah probs later. I’ve got class until 4.

Blind Date: Does that work for your Burger King plan?

Blind Date: I know it’s hard to get a reservation at that place on short notice >.<

You: I take it all back.

You: I have plans tonight, soz.

You: Talk to ya later, weeb.

You smiled and set your phone down beside your notebook, refocusing on your professor.  But your attention was quickly assuaged by your phone vibrating once more. You smirked down at it and, covertly, read the slew of oncoming text messages with a chuckle.

Blind Date: !!! That’s rude !!!

Blind Date: You can’t just offer a Burger King date and snatch it out from under me like that.

Blind Date: I’ll be mad if you jerk me around >:-(

Blind Date: You see that face? I mean BUSINESS.

You: Calm down lol, I was kidding.

You: Let’s meet at the Burger King next to the ramen place near campus?

Blind Date: Hehe, sounds good :-P

Blind Date: Ah, but don’t be too surprised when you meet me, okay?

Blind Date: I don’t want you fainting when you see my handsome face 8-)

You: Mhm, I’ll be sure not to faint.

Blind Date: I mean…a little fainting is fine…

You: Haha shut up. I’ll see you there. Looking forward to putting a face to the texts!

Blind Date: Hopefully my face doesn’t disappoint lol.

You: Yikes, mine either.

Blind Date: Yours won’t.

Blind Date: Haha, I’m sure you’ll look great. That’s what I meant.

Blind Date: Ew, all of that was hard to read. Forget I said anything hhhhhh.

You smiled fondly at your phone before sliding it into your bag. “You look kinda smitten,” said Sua from beside you.

You jumped and glanced at her as the rest of the class began packing up. She was grinning at you like a co-conspirator, brows low, knowing grin on her face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been texting someone named Blind Date during every class period for a week,” she said, cocking a brow. “I take it you guys hit it off?”

You felt yourself go warm. Not like with Jungkook the other day, but like something else. Something a little deeper than a physical reaction. Nonetheless, you cleared your throat and smiled at Sua. “He’s a good guy. I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” she asked with a laugh, flitting her hand as the two of you stood together. “Sounds boring. Get a smooch or two out of it or it’s a bust.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t really know if he’d be interested in me that way.”

“What about you?” she asked, eyeing you. “Would you be interested?”

You stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide, and opened and shut your mouth a few times. “I…,” you began, then glanced at your feet. You followed her out into the hallway where students hurried by in a flash beside you. “I mean…”

Sua paused her walking to stare back at you, her teasing grin replaced with a genuine one. “Wait, do you actually like him-like him?” she asked, eyes alight.

You stiffened, scratching your arm, and sighed. “Jeez, I don’t know! Maybe,” you said, waving your hands. “Forget it, I’ve got another class soon.”

She laughed as you maneuvered around her through the hall, calling after you. “You’re cute when you’ve got a crush!”

You sat at a booth by yourself at Burger King, waiting for your not-date to show up. It had only been a few minutes and already your anxiety was starting to speak in your ear. He’s not showing up, it whispered, You’re an idiot. And maybe you were. Looking around the fast food joint, you saw more than a few couples, sitting side-by-side or gazing at each other over fried chicken. You didn’t envy them. Not that way. Just…maybe it was the human connection you missed more than anything. Last time you’d been in this situation, you were still deeply in love with Jeon Jungkook.

You were sixteen and you sat twiddling your thumbs on a suburban bench overlooking Seoul. Trees swayed in the summer breeze and carried with them the scent of young hopefulness, naivety in the form of dogwood blossoms. You watched the uneven cityscape before you as it resisted the pull of the wind, and far in the distance, slightly glittering in the sunlight, the Han River. Jungkook had said he’d be there at exactly two. It was ten past, and you were getting a little nervous. You’d confessed not a week prior during the last week of school, and to your shock Jungkook had been receptive. He hadn’t said anything bold like ‘I like you too’ or ‘let’s date’ but he had invited you out for some ice cream and you figured that was much the same thing for him.

Maybe he’s just being nice, you thought to yourself with a sigh. You’d spent a long time picking out the right outfit, getting your hair to lay just right. And still, you didn’t feel quite up to par with him. Girls were always confessing their love for him. Guys too. What made you any different than the dozens of other hopefuls? He probably won’t come…

“Y/N!” called a voice from the winding, hilly street.

You jumped and turned, and your heart swelled as you saw Jungkook running down the sidewalk toward you, grinning from ear to ear. And that was what did you in. That sincerity, that vigor, that enthusiasm…all for you. You stood up to meet him and chuckled as he caught his breath, patting his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, panting. “My mom started lecturing me, so I got tied up.” After a few moments regaining his composure, he finally looked at you properly and when he did, you noticed his cheeks going red hot, eyes round. “Oh, wow,” he said, glancing away with a jittery laugh. “S-Sorry, you…you look really nice.”

You felt a little faint. You’d spent months pining after this kid, pining after this purity you kept glimpsing in him, and now…

He was saying you looked nice.

It was almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

You smiled at your shoes and rubbed your neck. “Th-thank you,” you said.

He laughed, nervous once more, and gave your shoulder a shove. “Hey, don’t get all clammy on me, okay? Nothing’s weird between us. Just…two pals…on a date.”

You jumped and stared up at him with unbridled surprise. “Date?” you asked, shameless hope in your voice.

He laughed, eyes turning to crescents, and nodded. “What else would it be?” Of course. Of course, since it was Jungkook, the answer was just that simple, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard and tried to manage your expression, but you couldn’t fight the smile teasing your lips. “Oh,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

He examined you for a moment, scanning you. You weren’t used to going out with friends, let alone dating. All of this was new and exhilarating to you. But you felt a sudden wave of shyness that you couldn’t fight off, and a slightly pleasant self-consciousness. You felt him looking at you, and it didn’t feel like he hated looking. You became very aware of your body, each limb, each finger. Still smiling a little, you laughed again, unsure of what else to do. These were uncharted waters, after all.

“Hm,” he said, bending down to meet your eyes. You blushed and leaned away a little, but he was blushing too and it made you feel better knowing perhaps he was just as nervous as you. “Lemme prove it.”

Your eyes went wide, but before you could say or do anything, Jungkook closed the distance between you, tipping his chin so that your lips met. His lips were warm and soft. They tasted like chapstick and banana milk. You didn’t move, not a single muscle, and perhaps this worried him because he was quick to lean away and stare down at you, fresh insecurity on display in his warm brown eyes.

“Sorry! Was that too sudden?” he asked, laughing and glancing away, down the quiet street. “Jeez, I got carried away, huh? Ha, I’m sorry.”

Before he could spiral, you took a timid step forward and pushed yourself onto your toes. Gently, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself nearer to him. He jumped and looked at you with stunned eyes. But you didn’t give him a chance to think too much, because before long you were kissing him, head tilted to the side, eyes shut. Without much pause, his hands found your waist and stayed there, respectful, unsure.

And somehow, you’d summoned the courage to do it. To kiss him back.

Because he showed up, after all.

He didn’t leave you alone…

Fifteen minutes now and you were beginning to worry. You reasoned that at least there were worse places to be stood up. A nice steakhouse, for instance. At least here you weren’t the only solo diner. But nonetheless, the feeling of a deep gut-punch was only growing. Dread and disappointment mingled into a bitter cocktail in the pit of your stomach. Wouldn’t this just be…poetic? Getting stood up for your first date after years of fear and emotional isolation?

Wouldn’t that be exactly what would happen?

Thirty minutes. At first, you tried to tell yourself he was probably just running late from a class. After all, the walk from campus alone was around seven minutes. Maybe he’d gotten released late. Maybe he’d gotten held up with a professor or classmate. You stared at your Whopper with dead eyes now, watching the cold burger as all the heat drained from it. It was too late to save it now. And perhaps it had never been meant for you to eat anyway. Maybe it was your destiny to become a vegetarian or something.

Nonetheless, you sent a text.

Even though it felt pathetic.

You: Hey, uh…we still on for Burger King?

You: No rush, haha.

You: Just a little worried…

Was this revenge for ruining the first date? Some elaborate plot to get back at you? He seemed like a really sweet guy, but so had Jungkook after all. After several minutes without a reply, you began to accept the fact that you’d been thoroughly stood up. Your throat constricted, eyes going a little hazy, and resolved to wait a little longer. Just a little.

Forty-eight minutes. No reply and no date. By then, plenty of customers had come and gone through the front doors, none of them him. You couldn’t bring yourself to take even one bite of food, the money wasted, the time wasted too. How much time had you wasted, really? How much of your life had you spent watering dead plants?

When Jungkook told you he wanted to break up, you’d been in disbelief. The two of you were close, so close it almost hurt, and the sudden end felt like a slap in the face or a jolt to the heart. You’d fought him in his room that night, the sunset turning the ends of his hair gold, turning his eyes gold too. He had no right being so handsome at a moment like that. You asked for a reason and he said he didn’t want any strings going in to college. He wanted to be unaffiliated. But you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that the time you spent together had meant so little to him, that the relationship was a dead plant from the start.

I was only dating you because I felt bad for you! he’d shouted once he’d had enough. Ever wonder why I never told anyone about us?! You’d been stunned then, stunned silent. Your brain was failing to process his words. He’d never spoken that way to you before. How much time had you spent in love? How much time had he spent pitying you? I was your only friend, for God’s sake! What did you expect me to do?!

Perhaps you’d been right after all. Perhaps giving yourself to other people was too dangerous, too painful. Perhaps loving someone wasn’t worth it, perhaps it could never be completely reciprocal. Perhaps any relationship you had would be a waste of time. Perhaps all you were destined to do was water dead plants until finally, you decided it was enough.

One hour. You stood up from your seat, wiped beneath your eyes as the tears you’d been fighting finally crested over your bottom eyelid, and carried your tray to the garbage. You slid your trash into the bin and, sniffling, wandered out toward the exit. Customers avoided walking too close to you, likely noticing the tears that were now tracking stubbornly down your cheeks. You would have wiped them, had you had the energy to care.

But all you wanted was to go home and be alone.

Alone for a while.

You pushed your way outside, taking in the fresh spring day. No more rain, even though you would have welcomed it. It could have concealed your crying, your red nose and swelling eyes. You could have cowered beneath a bus stop and nobody would have noticed you. Nobody would have noticed.

Instead, the spring day was gorgeous, teasingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and people milled about through the street, smiling and chatting easily. Sniffling, you wiped your nose and joined them, walking down the sidewalk toward the subway entrance near campus.

You were overreacting. You didn’t even know this guy that well yet. He wasn’t a boyfriend, he wasn’t someone you’d given your whole heart to. He hadn’t betrayed you, because deep down you’d expected this. Maybe that’s what upset you so much. Being proven right.

You exited the crowd of people a block from the Burger King and walked with your head down toward the subway entrance. You were about to step on to the escalator when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned slowly, eyes bleary from all the crying, and rubbed your tears away to see them clearly. Again, like he had some sort of sense for when you were most humiliated, Jungkook stepped toward you. His face was contorted in worry, thick brows knit, mouth agape as he stared down at you, scanning you.

You sniffled and nodded. “What?” you asked.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, taking you by the crook of the arm and leading you toward a more sparsely populated alley beside the sidewalk. You didn’t fight. Didn’t have it in you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his own eyes watery as he looked down at you, forcing your head up as he held it between two big, warm hands.

You kept your gaze on the dirty ground. “Let me go,” you said, but it was weak.

“Y/N…,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb against your cheek. “Jesus.”

“What?” you asked, looking at him quick, fierce. “Are you pitying me?”

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. Looking at him now, he seemed pretty shaken himself. Why did the two of you keep bumping into each other like this? “No! No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” you asked, shaking his hands off your face. “What is it, huh? Here to show off your money? Show me how good you’re doing while I’m working minimum wage? Huh? Do you like feeling superior?”

He swallowed hard, his expression revealing some sort of hurt you couldn’t name. “No! Please, it’s not that! Let me explain-,”

“No! You don’t have any right to ask me to listen to you!” you said, sobbing. You wiped your eyes with your forearm and shook your head. “Just leave me alone! Everyone!” you shouted.

Jungkook took your shoulders in his hands to keep you still and you tried a few times to shake yourself free, but to no avail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You kept crying, the ancient pain welling up from inside you like some age-old reserve finally erupting. Your body rocked with the force of your tears. “Isn’t it pathetic? The minute I start trying to reach out, I get stood up?” you asked with a manic laugh. “Doesn’t that just make you feel so good? Aren’t I pitiable?”

Jungkook’s own tears were pooling in his eyes and you could see them there, threatening to fall. “Please,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Isn’t this what you want? Someone to look down on? Someone to feel bad for?” you asked, face wet from the tears. “Can’t you just leave me alone?!” you shouted, loud enough to rouse the attention of a few people on the sidewalk behind Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook, without another word, sniffled sharply and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his strong hold for a few moments, writhing, before finally submitting. Without even meaning to, you wrapped your arms around his torso and sobbed into his black shirt. He held you close, resting his cheek on your head. You could have sworn you felt a few tears hitting your shoulder.

But before you could get too comfortable in his embrace, you pushed yourself away and stared at him, bitter, angry, from several feet away. You looked at him like a feral thing, like an alleycat. And the way he watched you was different than it was that day by the bench. It was worried now, like a shadow had crossed over his face.

“I’m sorry-,” he began.

You shook your head and shoved past him. “Don’t talk to me. Ever,” you spat as you walked by, rejoining the stream of people on the sidewalk toward the subway entrance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Sua as the two of you left class.

Half a week had passed, and you were eager for more time to distance you from that unpleasant day. You’d received a slew of texts from your blind date, all of which had gone unanswered. They ranged from the typical I’m so sorry texts to more in-depth explanations. Apparently, he’d gotten nervous. Cold feet, he’d said. Nervous for what, you didn't know and you wouldn’t ask. You were meeting at a Burger King for God’s sake. What could he have been that nervous about?

You glanced at her and offered a tight smile. “Mhm. I’m good. Just…uh…gotta get to work later so I’m thinking about that,” you said, over-explaining. Of course, lying just wasn’t for you.

Sua sighed and hooked an arm around your elbow, leaning close to you as the two of you walked down the hallway. You edged away just slightly, and it seemed she noticed as she turned to you with wide eyes. You hated to admit it, but everything with that Nochu guy had made you wary of even Sua. They did know each other after all. Had this been one big setup from the start? Were the two conspiring to hurt you?

You shook your head and patted her hand with a smile. Of course not. Of course that was crazy. But…something about this whole thing had you feeling crazy. “Sorry,” you said quietly. “Just…met up with someone from my past the other day and it didn’t feel so good.”

She raised her brows. “What? You never mentioned anyone like that before…,” she said, her brows lowering. She looked a little hurt.

You swallowed hard. “Ah, well it’s no big deal,” you said, flitting a hand with a choppy laugh. “It’s in the past for a reason.”

She pouted. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, eyeing you.

And with those words, your chest constricted a little and a small pang of guilt clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to end up hurting her. She was sweet and she wanted to be close to you. But what could you do if you just weren’t ready for that? How could you tell her you may never be ready?

Instead, you turned to her and offered a smile. “I know.”

Blind Date: Y/N…

Blind Date: Please respond. Please.

Blind Date: I really really want to explain everything to you.

Blind Date: I know I really hurt you, but I want to explain.

Blind Date: Isn’t that selfish of me?

Blind Date: To hurt you and then ask you to listen to me?

Blind Date: I’m sorry.

Blind Date: I’m selfish.

You sighed as you watched your phone. The coffeeshop was quiet, fewer patrons now that the design students had finished their projects, and you felt safer looking at the onslaught of texts that just wouldn’t stop flooding your phone. You know you can talk to me, right? That’s what Sua said. She had reached out her hand to you.

And you’d pulled back.

You eyed your phone for a long few moments. Wasn’t it time to stop running away because you were scared of being hurt? Wasn’t it time to stop expecting someone to walk all the way across the tightrope to you and start walking to meet them in the middle instead?

Wasn’t it wrong to punish people for something someone else did?

You: Hey…

You: Sorry I haven’t responded. I just needed space I think.

Blind Date: Shit, I know. I’m so sorry.

Blind Date: You know I care about you though, right?

Blind Date: You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose, right?

You: I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks haha.

You: Honestly, I probably overreacted.

You: After everything that happened with that guy I told you about, I think I’m just a little too sensitive. And I took it out on you. And that was wrong.

Blind Date: No, no! Please don’t apologize. Jesus. It’s entirely my fault. All of it.

You: Haha it’s really not. I shouldn’t hold you and him to the same standards when you’re different people. That’s on me.

Blind Date: Can I see you?

You: Huh? So suddenly? I’m working…

Blind Date: The coffeeshop on campus?

You: Yeah…

You: Don’t come right now though!

You: I won’t be able to talk to you anyway.

Blind Date: I’ll wait. When do you get off?

You: Nine…

Blind Date: I’ll see you at nine.

You blushed, staring down at your screen. Since when was he so direct like this? And why did it make your heart race, just a little?

Sua was right. You definitely had a crush…

You watched the front doors as you began cleaning up the coffeeshop. Closing time was coming soon, and with five minutes until nine you were beginning to feel that festering fear that you’d be stood up again. But as that voice returned to your mind, you were quick to quiet it. You wanted to believe in people again. You couldn’t live your life all alone.

So you swept beneath tables and propped chairs atop them. You cleaned the windows. You hummed a pop song to yourself, trying to keep your mind busy. When you glanced outside, you noticed the spring showers had returned and the rain was falling in bullets from the dark sky. With a sigh, you settled down on one of the recliners by the window, watching cars and buses and people speed by. You wondered which one would come inside despite the sign now reading ‘closed’. You wondered who this person was.

Before you realized it, you were dozing off, struggling to keep your eyes open as you reclined against the comfortable cushions. Your breathing became more rhythmic, deeper in your chest with each inhale, and you snuggled into the back of the recliner with a heavy sigh.

And that’s when you heard it. The distinctive ting of the bell dangling over the front door. Your eyes opened wide and you saw his reflection in the mirror beside you. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, hoodie up over his head and an umbrella in his hand, trailing droplets of rainwater onto the wood floor. You wanted to greet him right away, to get a proper look at him, but with your heart racing the way it was you couldn’t find the courage. It was enough for you just to respond to his texts. And now he was here, corporeal, right behind you.

You shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

“Y/N?” he called, and somehow you recognized his voice.

No way.

It couldn’t be…

You kept your eyes shut and curled your knees closer to your chest. Slowly, you heard him mill around the shop before pausing beside your recliner. His footsteps got closer, rounding the side of the chair to stand right in front of you. And, quietly, he laughed. And you were certain now. You knew exactly who he was.

You felt a warm, big hand press against the side of your head, smoothing your hair down, and heard a fond sigh. “Jeez,” he mumbled. You felt him crouch down beside your feet and his arm dropped to rest on the arm of the recliner. He gently rocked the chair back and forth for a moment, humming. “Don’t hate me too much, okay?” he asked in a whisper.

And, without another moment’s hesitation, you opened your eyes and stared right down at him. “Jungkook…?” you asked, scanning his face.

His eyes were round with shock and his whole person was wet. He gazed up at you from where he crouched on the floor and, mouth agape, said nothing. Wordlessly, you reached a hand out and touched his cheek with the pad of your index finger. Soaking wet. You sighed and pushed to your feet. Jungkook stumbled a little to accommodate you as you slipped past him to the counter. You rifled through the cabinets before producing a towel. By then, he’d followed you to the counter and was waiting on the other side. Sighing, you waved a hand, signaling for him to join you behind the register. He jumped and followed your silent command, and suddenly you were staring at his broad chest up close.

You swallowed your nerves and draped the towel atop his head. “Dry off,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter. The lights in the shop were low, and the music still bumped lowly through the stereo. It might have been romantic, if it was anyone else. “Then we can talk.”

He nodded and fluffed the towel through his hair, obscuring his face from view for a few peaceful seconds. “I…I know I have a lot to explain.”

“Yeah,” you said.

He peeked out from behind the towel with one eye, watching you. “Are you mad?”

“Fuming, actually.”

He nodded and let the towel drop to his shoulders. “I expected that,” he said with a sigh. He came to stand in front of your knees, looking right at you with enough sincerity to knock the breath from your lungs. Just like that first date. “I don’t know where to start.”

“So you know Sua?” you asked, letting your heels bounce against the counter’s cabinets.

“Ah, uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “We’re in the same major, so…”

“And you transferred here?”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “It was…no good out in Busan. I missed home too much.”

You nodded, watching your thighs on the counter. “Figures.”

He chuckled wryly. “You know me too well.”

“Thought I did.”

Carefully, he took a single step forward and you jumped, meeting his eyes like a frightened prey. “I never meant for you to carry all that with you for so long,” he said, brows knit and eyes hazy like he may cry. “I didn’t expect you to be so hurt.”

“That’s stupid,” you said. “You can’t tell someone you were only with them out of pity and expect them not to be hurt.”

“I know, I just…Jesus, I’m just stupid,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “Since I was moving away, I didn’t want you to waste your time waiting for me to come back, so I wanted to give you a clean break. Since I knew you wouldn’t wanna break up just because of distance.”

You stiffened. “You…what?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Any of it.”

You felt like you’d been hit right in the diaphragm, like when you play dodgeball and someone throws a ball at your chest. You sat up straighter and stared at him, watching him carefully. “You lied?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes seriously. It really looked like he might have cried. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep you from meeting new people and making new connections.”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone we were dating?” you asked, brow low, scanning him for any signs of insincerity.

His eyes went wide. “I…I told you before, my high school friends…they weren’t so great,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant it when I was texting you about all that. How t’s hard for me to find good people.”

“And you didn’t show up to Burger King last time because…?”

He sniffled. “I meant what I said about that too. I was…really nervous. I was scared you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me.”

You sighed. “Why weren’t you just honest with me from the start?” you asked, all animosity draining from your voice as you saw him wiping his red, swelling eyes. “Back in high school. Why didn’t you just tell me all of it then?”

He sniffed and looked away. “I was scared you’d think less of me if you knew I was so insecure. And I didn’t want you to wait for me in college, not when you could’ve been out making new friends.”

“Well, the opposite happened actually,” you said with a dry laugh. “I got really worried that any friends I made would be doing it out of pity.”

Jungkook stiffened. “You…you did?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Shit,” he breathed out, gripping his forehead with two hands. “I’m so stupid!”

Distantly, the sound of the rain picked up outside. You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at you once more, startling you with his sincerity. “I messed up so bad. I messed up everything.”

You blinked at him, standing nearly at eye-level, and slowly reached out to wipe beneath his eyes with your fingertips. “Well, you were right about one thing. I wouldn’t have accepted it had you not said what you said.”

He furrowed his brow and leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said.

He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Now that I know everything, it’s hard to be mad at you for being a jerk when you were really just being an idiot.”

He stared at you, inching forward so he rested just between your knees. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, letting out half a chuckle as you let your hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a pat.

“Really,” he said, nodding once as he stared right into your eyes.

“Jungkook, it’s-,”

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance between you, one hand grasping your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your lips. You jumped back, eyes wide, and stared at him in shock. He too looked shocked, like he hadn’t meant to do it at all. He shook his head, eyebrows knit, stuttering out syllables that didn’t add up to anything.

“I-I-you-I mean-,” he sputtered, irises shaking. You noticed no small margin of fear in his eyes, like he was terrified he’d messed things up again.

I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

The words he’d trusted you with through the screen, his sincere thoughts. He really regretted it a lot, didn’t he? Your expression softened as he continued struggling to find words, and, without even really meaning to, you wrapped your fingers around his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was too spooked to comment on it, but you slowly pulled him closer. Just like that day in high school, just like it was when you’d first entered hopefully into this fateful relationship, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes. Stunned, he was completely still for a moment before eventually his hands moved to your hips, then slid along your sides, then hooked around your lower back. You hadn’t intended it, but the kiss was getting steamier with each passing moment. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he pulled back to adjust his position before crashing into you again.

As the fever settled down, Jungkook was the first to pull away, but only by a faction so he could speak. “I love you,” he whispered.

You stared wide-eyed at him, only inches away from you, eyes heavy-lidded and forehead resting just barely against yours. “O-Okay,” you said. It was all you could manage.

He chuckled once, still embracing you as he stood between your legs. “That’s it?”

“You expect me to say it back?” you asked.

He smiled, staring down at you. “I guess not.”

“You’re gonna have to give me some time,” you said with a nod.

He nodded too, shutting his eyes as he held you close. Slowly, he moved to rest his forehead against your shoulder, resting against the crook of your neck. “I understand.”

“Like…a lot of time probably.”

“I know.”

You let out a shaky exhale and only then did you realize your hands were shaking. As silly as it seemed, this reunion was pretty jarring to your system. The foundation on which you’d rebuilt your sense of self had broken down beneath your feet, leaving you to stand among the rubble once again. Just like back then. Everything you thought you understood had been proven wrong.

But nonetheless, you smoothed your palms against his back and rubbed gently. Not to comfort him, but to comfort yourself. To let yourself know that, even though it was scary, it was okay to trust people sometimes. Self preservation shouldn’t come at the sacrifice of human connection. And even though you knew the road ahead was going to be long and that trusting Jungkook again would take a long time and a lot of work on his end, you were ready to try.

So, as the two of you left the shop under one umbrella, you drafted a text.

You: Sua, I have SO MUCH to tell you.

[normal-horoscopes]

The Signs and Blades III:

Aries: A pair of gauntlets, carved from a single piece of ancient stone. They would require titanic strength even to hold. The air around them is heavy and stark, as if demanding respect.

Taurus: A sword cane made of humble iron and brass. The handle bears a small golden crest depicting a boar. Once the sign of a powerful and respected noble house, it is nearly worthless now. Fit more to be smelted down.

Gemini: A jet black rungu, polished to a mirror sheen. As it hangs from the belt of this long-traveled diplomat, it seems reject attention, fading from vision and memory like water into soil. 

Cancer: A walking stick given to missionaries. The divine symbol at the head is completely covered by a dense knot of fungus. Spores drift from it as the wind changes direction. It seems to beat like a heart.

Leo: The simple, sturdy shortsword of a mercenary. A sword with a legacy of conquest and nation-building. Thrust into the earth in the courtyard of the summer palace, left to be taken by the elements. A promise. 

Virgo: A honey wand. A poor weapon, and largely ceremonial, meant to conjure images of a cultures proud legacy. Both as an instrument of delicacy and confection, and as the catalyst of a witch. 

Libra: A shortstaff. A length of wood and nothing more. In the hands of one with a lifetime of meditation and practice, it is an impenetrable shield, an unstoppable lance. 

Scorpio: A ceremonial knife forged from an unknown metal. Permitted to none but the high priestess. The handle curves at an odd angle as if it were not meant to be held by human hands. The blade terminates in a cruel gutting hook. 

Ophiuchus: The shackles of a slave, meant to be bound about the ankles to a heavy iron block now reforged and fashioned into a mace. A blunt reminder of exactly who its wielder was. 

Sagittarius: A shortbow meant for small game that, strangely, does not seem to discriminate between the hides of rabbits and the necks of kings. 

Capricorn: A paired scimitar and dagger of extremely fine make. The hilts plated with shining metals and set with precious stones. The young sultan has come to resent them. They are the weapons of one who has never faced bloodshed.

Aquarius: A surgeons needle meant for severing the spinal column, kept hidden in the lining of a jacket. A poor tool for the assassin the carries it, and never drawn for that reason. Her reason for carrying it is deeply, deeply personal. 

Pisces: An uncanny weapon, born of unspeakable grief and loss. Living frost warping to the will of what is left of its cursed wielder, who named it Nightrazor, Blade of Eternal Death. Under the ice, it is a wooden, toy sword. 

[prisonrose]

Silent Hill: Isolation (A Summary)

Your name is Dhimani Rose, and you have done something unforgivable. You thought that serving a life sentence in this hellhole was as bad as things could ever get for you. Like just about everything else in your miserable existence, you were wrong.

This labyrinth-like, twisted reflection of your “home” of the past few years seems like divine punishment, But you’ve never heard of a god as sadistic as this. Is it even more punishment for your past transgressions? ... Or is it trying to teach you something?

-- -- --

While I doubt this will ever be a proper game you could play (I might see if there’s a possibility to make it on like… an RPG Maker or some shit? IF I’m feeling especially spicy) I’m going to get suuuper into the “game’s” mechanics and plot now, because it’s fun to pretend. Silent Hill: Isolation is a crossover third person survival horror game based upon Chairman Dhimani Rose’s encounter with the Blue Mist. Its primary mechanics are with exploration and puzzle solving, with a little dash of combat here and there.

The game’s opening plays out on what seems to be security cam footage. After getting forced into a solitary confinement cell again for unspecified reasons, Dhimani suffers a total mental and emotional breakdown. In a short montage, he sobs, bangs on the door, paces around, and finally curls up on his bed in the corner. 

A sped up time-lapse plays out of him moving about restlessly on the bed, rolling over and tossing and turning, sometimes looking up at the camera angrily and pulling the blankets up over his head. As a distant siren wails, the camera slowly zooms into the screen as the minutes tick by at a frantic pace. It gently fades into static.

Suddenly, we’re in Dhimani’s room without the security cam filter. The door quietly drifts open, but he doesn’t notice. It’s not really communicated to the player, but they can control him at this point. They can make him roll over and notice that the door is open at any time, to which he’ll express confusion.

He slowly gets up to observe it, as if he can’t believe it, calling to see if anyone is there. No answer. He presses forward and slowly walks out into the hallway, still calling, “Hello?” as if he’s afraid he’ll be punished for noticing the door is open. But when he gets out, the hallways are mostly dark, a far cry from the blinding, white nothingness his solitary cell constantly assaulted him with. More alarming than that, the hallways are completely empty and still. The camera gradually swoops from the fixed camera position in the corner of his solitary cell to just behind his back in the typical “third person” angle popularized by the RE series.

From that moment on, the player is on their own. There are no other characters in this iteration of Silent Hill. The first bit of the game is played in complete isolation in the empty hallways of Wyndon Prison, slowly trying to figure out how mechanics work. Once you find your first weapon about 20-30 minutes in, the hallways and main areas within the prison will slowly be populated with monsters that you’ll either have to defend yourself from, or, more likely, hide from. 

While there is combat in this game, it’s always supposed to be used as a last resort. This is a classic survival horror type game, where resource management is key, and supplies are scarce. More than that, Dhimani isn’t a particularly tough character (as seen with a few of his idle animations, where he’ll cough violently or sometimes slump against a nearby wall for a quick rest), so it doesn’t take much at all to take him down. 

There are three basic actions. Light attack, Heavy attack, and Block. All three need Dhimani to have some sort of weapon in his hand for it to work properly. Otherwise, you’ll do damage to yourself. There are also three weapons, though they have uses outside of combat as well. All weapons will eventually break with all types of usage, and spawning is infrequent, so conserve as much as you can. You can throw them as well, to sacrifice the scant durability left.

The Shiv is the lightest, weakest, and has the worst amount of reach. It also breaks the quickest, but is also the most common to find. You can do several light attacks with it in the blink of an eye, so it’s best for lighter, quicker enemies with not too much health. Outside of combat, it’s useful for cutting Ropes. Note: Shivs can be found in all sorts of varieties, from toothbrush to comb. This is completely cosmetic, and changes nothing about the gameplay.

The second weapon is the Crowbar. Medium weight, medium damage, but the longest reach. This is the “jack of all trades” weapon and can usually see you through most conflicts just fine, so long as you remember that the timing is a little different than with the tiny, dinky Shiv. It also lasts much longer than the Shiv, but doesn’t spawn as much, either. Outside of combat, it’s used for prying open Planks of Wood blocking entrance ways or doors. It can also lift up Debris in some instances.

The third and final weapon is the Wrench. Heavy damage, but also a very heavy weight. It only has medium reach as well, so you really have to pay attention to the timing with this one. Doing a heavy attack with a Wrench takes a full two second windup, but it will kill basically every common enemy in the game with one hit if you manage to land it. Outside of combat, it’s used for smashing Padlocks. It can also be used to fix Computer Terminals throughout the game. It has the highest durability as well.

You will only get a maximum of 20 uses out of each weapon, including blocks and out-of-combat utilization, so once again, you definitely should not be trying to wail on monsters willy-nilly in this game. There is also a stamina bar for sprinting, because I’m an ass. Thankfully there is no stamina bar for swinging or blocking with your weapons. That’d be a hell of a lot to think about, especially considering the timing of swings and durability with the weapons. This isn’t fucking Dark Souls.

Dhimani’s Cell on his normal block is the only save area in-game. It is usually safe, but not always. To tell if the area is safe in that instance, you have to look on his writing desk for one of his two statues of protection -- the King of Gargoyles and the Angel of Tranquility. Both will keep lesser monsters out of the cell, making it safe for you to duck inside to get a really persistent one off your tail, but only the Angel of Tranquility will heal you freely. The King of Gargoyles is the one you get much more often and is the only one you get during the beginning portion of the game.

Every time you move out of your Cell Block and then return to his cell, it’s randomized which one you’ll get, or if you’ll get none at all, in which case, you’ll get the prompt “You feel a cold chill run up your spine”. If you get that prompt and a monster is after you, hide as quickly as possible under the bed and stay still until it leaves and you no longer hear it. Or else it’ll come in and assault you. Even if there wasn’t a monster on your tail when you get in there and get the warning message, stay on your toes. They can wander by freely, and if they notice you in there, they will aggro and attack you automatically.

In your Safe Room, you have a Chest for keeping one extra of each Weapon, Healing Items, and Key Items. You can also Save. There is an Autosave function in-game, so dying to a monster won’t set you back to your last manual save unless you’re on Super Ultra Big Dick Hard Mode, but you will lose everything you’re carrying, including Key Items. If you had to beat a boss to get the Key Item, you won’t need to beat them again, but you WILL have to go all the way back to get it, and that can be challenging enough, especially during the latter half of the game where monsters wandering the halls are more common and more powerful. 

The object of the game is to figure out what happened to everyone, where you are, and how you can get out. It won’t be easy… But you’ve been through too much to just give in.

[chemiste]

Foresight ~ ch.7

a/n: hahahah this is overdue! but here’s ch.7!! this is sorta a filler chapter but i’m trying to get the ball rolling ya know? 

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You scrunched your eyebrows together but agreed anyway and walked over to the table she was fishing something out of her bag at. 

“What’s up Hél?”

She held up a finger as her other hand dug through the bag, a few seconds later made a triumphant aha! And pulled a badge out that had a lanyard attached to it. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to take pictures during the show, H told me you’re a photographer.”

You lit up like a Christmas tree, “Wait are you serious? I’d love to!” 

You took the badge from her and put it on, doing a little happy dance before pulling her into a hug. 

“This badge will give you access to the aisles beside the stage and basically anywhere that fans are not allowed, you’ve got your camera right?”

“Yes, it’s in the dressing room I’ll go grab it!” 

You raced down the hallway, but not before basically slamming into Harry to give him a big hug, “Thank you so much, Harry, seriously.” 

“Of course Junebug, anything so I see tha’ grin on your face.”

He’s so dreamy.

Psh, what no, just a nice friend gesture s’all…

You shook your head of the thoughts and went to grab your camera, you followed Hélène through the door to the entrance below the stage so that you’d both be in place for when the screen rose to show off the band. 

Your adrenaline was pumped, you could hear the excited chatter among the crowd, waiting in anticipation for the ball to drop— or rather the cube to drop.

The screen started to rise and there he was.

You snapped pictures, adjusting the shutter a few times when you wanted a more artsy picture of him, but kept the controls fixed on laser-sharp quality for the rest of the time. You wanted the pixels to pristinely capture how he pumped his fist with the drums or how his fingers laid on the mic stand when he closed his eyes and just sang his heart out. 

You end up running down the center aisle and then ducking left to capture some more of the singer’s performance. Slightly leaning back into the barrier of the front pit, you zoom in and snap the perfect photo. 

Harry’s eyes are closed and both hands hold the mic and stand, the background is blacked out and he looks stunning. You lowered your camera slightly as you watch him sing, slightly bewildered at the moment in front of you. 

“He’s something isn’t he?” 

A girl in the front off handily says to you, her accent thick but still understandable. 

“Yeah,” you find yourself saying, “yeah he is.”

 A few songs later, harry stops to chat with the audience, you know the next songs he’ll either stay on stage or make a break for it through the crowd to stage B.

He’ll be going to stage B in 2 minutes and 32 seconds

You spot Hélène already at B so you decide you’ll just follow behind him through the crowd, get some more artsy pics that could work for your website gallery or a portfolio. 

The rockstar beamed as he made his way through the aisle, touching all the hands that were desperately reaching out towards him. He was handed bouquets, cards, flags, and a couple of bras were thrown his way you saw. 

It was a wild experience, the new angle from a different stage let you take more interesting shots that had the crowd in them as well. The fans were ecstatic, every one of them singing the lyrics like they wrote them themselves, it made you so proud of Harry and how much he had accomplished on his own.

“Antwerp! Eve’yone doing well so far?” 

Cheers were heard throughout the arena, Harry was grinning so hard you couldn’t even see his eyes. After his encore songs, the band did one final bow before heading off stage. You quickly rushed through the side door to head back to the dressing room to meet them. 

“Another one in the bag superstar!”

You shouted as you posed at the doorway, mimicking harry’s mic movements to the people in the room. 

“Oh yea? Thought I saw someone chasin’ after meh through the crowd,” Harry responded, shrugging his expensive jacket off to hang. In a flash of movements, Harry snatched your camera from your grasp and held it over your head as you reached up to grab it. 

“Hey, that’s mine, you thief!” You laughed. 

“Hmm, I think it’s my turn to take some picture eh?” You gasped and raced out into the hallway, the rockstar hot on your tail. 

He finally cornered you and started snapping. You raised your hand to block the flashes. H finally looked down and clicked through the pictures, you sensed he finally found one he liked and showed it to you. 

“Y’know, I think I might have found a new talent of mine.” You rolled your eyes, “leave the camera to me band boy.” “B-band boy! Who ‘re you callin’ a band boy?!”

You were snuggled in bed, dreaming of Vogue photoshoots and a faceless brunette boy.

Time to go…

What?

A sharp knock awoke you from your deep slumber. You squinted as you pulled the lamp cord, casting the room in soft warm light. Another knock made you shoot out of bed, the baby blue silk shorts and camisole didn’t do anything for the slight chill in the air.

Should’ve turned off the air conditioning, my nipples are poking through my top!

More obnoxious knocks ramped on the door. “Coming, coming! Jeez—” you pulled the door open, “—what do you, Harry?” The boy in question was standing outside your door, dressing sweats, and a hoodie, holding a backpack on one shoulder. 

“Uh, wha do you mean? It’s time to go.”

“Wait, oh that’s what that was.” He looked at you with a confused expression, you waved your hand around. 

“Never mind, let me grab my stuff and we’ll go.” Harry nodded, he glanced down slightly and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

Oh right…

You crossed your arms over your chested and he coughed into his hand, looking up to the ceiling. “I’m… gonna— yeah.” 

You closed the door and scrambled to get ready. “Next time, a little bit more of a warning would be nice!” You whispered to yourself quietly.

You quickly threw on some leggings and tripled checked that you put a bra on, then slipped your San Fransisco blue hoodie on and zipped up your black boots. You pulled your chargers out of the wall and closed your backpack, taking a last-minute check around the room that you weren’t forgetting anything and headed to the door. 

Harry’s head looked up from his phone when your door opened, “ready to go?” You nodded, pulling the suitcase into the hallway. 

“Sarah says that they’ve got an SUV to the  terminal so let's get down there quickly.” He said as you both walked to the elevator. 

Your head perked up at the word terminal, “huh? Terminal?” 

“Yeah, the buses left last night, we’re taking a private jet to Stockholm.”

Private?

Jet?

Oh, Fuck.

<3

telephone #7

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