#i love taking bad photos of my finishes with intent of eventually posting a good pic and then never doing that

[housefreak]

beautiful unironed photo of myfinish

[teaberrii]

Chapter Twenty-Five: Twist of Fate

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

You’ve just finished telling Alhaitham’s mother about what you do for work. While you touch upon your most recent accomplishments, Alhaitham swoops in, calmly gushing over that you are the creative genius behind Love in the Spotlight. Your face almost turns red at how much he’s doting on you.

His mother looks from him to you. “I can see it in his eyes. He’s in love with you. He even admitted it to me a few days ago.”

“You didn’t have to say it out loud,” Alhaitham says quietly.

“My, this is the first time I’ve seen you embarrassed, Haitham,” his mother says with a smile.

From underneath the table, you take your boyfriend’s hand. He looks at you, and you smile at him. Then, you feel him intertwine his fingers with yours.

“So, m’dear… what does your family do?” After you tell her about your mother, she asks, “And your father?”

"He's… not around anymore."

Alhaitham notices how his mother's gaze hardens and she subtly leans back. “I’m sorry to hear that. But, um, would you mind if I asked how he passed away?”

The story is something Alhaitham's heard before. It's the same as the one you told him and Kaveh many weeks ago. Alhaitham keeps his stare on his mother, noticing how her jaw clenches and the subtle movement of her thumb rubbing against the side of her index finger, a habit when she's nervous. Then, his stare also turns serious. It may not be strong evidence, but it may be enough to get something out of her.

Eventually, you excuse yourself for the washroom, and once you’re far enough, Alhaitham asks, “Mom… what are you hiding?”

The woman looks up from her steak. “Hiding? What are you talking about, Haitham?”

"...Let me start from the beginning. You invited Layla to this dinner and told her you were afraid my girlfriend might be using me. You said you never met her before, yet you already have such a bad impression of her. Why?"

She scoffs quietly with a small smile. “Because I’m worried about you… as your mother. No parent would want someone taking advantage of their child. You may be all grown up, but you’ll always be my little boy. I’m always going to worry about you.”

“...I understand that. But you didn’t answer my question. You’ve never met her… until now.”

She sighs and crosses one leg over the other. "...Okay. I admit that I'm not going into this dinner blind. I… know what she looks like because I asked your grandfather if he had any pictures of you two together. He sent me a photo." She takes out her phone, taps it a few times, and puts it in front of Alhaitham.

It's a professional photo of you that looks like it can be used as a passport or for company records. However, Alhaitham still doesn't understand. Is his mother judging you because of your appearance?

"I did a little research and found out you two work at the same company. My initial intention was to confirm this with Layla."

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Because I wanted to know what this woman was like. She’s your girlfriend. You’d obviously tell me all the good things.”

“...So, you wanted an unbiased point of view?”

She puts her elbows on the table and puts her hands together. “I see she’s a nice girl. Capable and intelligent.”

Alhaitham slightly narrows his eyes. Well, he got one of his questions answered. Now, onto the next—

“Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Not at all,” his mother says, watching you sit down.

You look from Alhaitham to his mother. “Did I… miss something?”

She smiles at you. “Not at all. Haitham was wondering what I thought about you.”

“O-oh, well—”

“You’re a lovely woman, dear. You… oddly remind me of myself when I was younger.”

“...I do?”

She nods. “I don’t know if Haitham told you, but if not for his grandfather… I wouldn’t have had him.”

“Ah, yes”—you look at your boyfriend—”he told me the story.”

“Tell me… do you want to get married and have kids?”

“Mom…”

She looks at her son. “It’s an honest question. There are no wrong answers.”

"I don't want kids," you say. "And… as for marriage, it's not something I'm thinking about right now. But I'm open to the idea when the time is right."

His mother smiles slightly. “It feels like I’m looking into a mirror.” Then, she looks at Alhaitham. “Did you know Haitham used to want enough kids for a soccer team?”

You turn to him. “Really?”

There’s a small but visible blush on his cheeks. “That was when I was very young. I don’t anymore.”

“Are you sure?” his mother asks. “You loved being around kids. You aren’t just saying that because she doesn’t want kids, do you?”

“I’m not."

“...I hope so. Because it wouldn’t be good to go along with someone else if that’s not what you want.”

The blush on his cheeks is gone as he looks his mother in the eyes. Perhaps he's overthinking, but is she… trying to create tension with this talk of having children?

His mother is about to call a waiter when he asks, “...Do you know why I said that before?” His mother looks back at him. “You and Dad were always away.”

"...Haitham, your father and I had no choice."

"I don't blame either of you. But my perspective has changed. So, there's no need to dwell on whether she and I have different views on having kids."

Is it just you, or does Alhaitham sound… a little cold? You hold his hand and give him a little smile to ease the tension. He holds your hand and returns your smile with one of his own.

Then, a waiter comes by and asks, “Is everything to your liking over here?”

“Could we get the bill?” When the waiter brings it over, Alhaitham’s mother takes it from him and says, “It’s on me tonight.”

“Oh, but—”

“I insist."

Then, she looks away from you, stands, and walks to the reception with her purse.

You turn back and see Alhaitham seemingly deep in thought. You put a hand on his leg and ask, “Whatcha thinking about, handsome?”

Alhaitham takes your hand. Truthfully, he’d been worried that his mother might try to make you uncomfortable. However, that didn’t seem like that’s the case… for the most part. “...It’s nothing.”

“Ready to go, you two?”

Once the three of you reach the parking lot, Alhaitham’s mother turns to her son and says, “Be safe on the road.”

“Thank you for dinner today,” you say.

“...I hope to see you again soon.”

Then, she turns and heads toward her car. Just before you and Alhaitham reach his car, Alhaitham sees his mother drive past. However, it isn’t the speed that arouses suspicions but her hard, cold stare.

Alhaitham's mother shifts the gears and drives a little faster once she hits the highway. She thought she'd left it all behind. The nightmares had stopped. The guilt… had eased. But when she heard your name, everything she felt that one fateful day came crashing back.

Today was it.

If she nailed this career-changing presentation to the business executives, she would be one step closer to becoming the manager of the department. Eventually, she might even oversee an entire business branch.

The rain started to come down harder as the car slowly rolled to a stop at an intersection. Then, she picked up her phone and saw the message on the screen.

She’s already here.

Alhaitham's mother stiffened. She didn't need any context to know who her colleague was talking about. A woman who was after the same position as her. She had been competing with her for a couple of years. Alhaitham's mother knew how capable she was, but she was also manipulative, coaxing her way up to the top. But of course, she had to have the skills to back it up.

Alhaitham's mother quickly texted back, her battery losing the last of its life. She had been so busy practicing for her presentation that she had forgotten to charge it. But she was almost at the office, so it shouldn't matter.

Alhaitham's mother tossed her phone into the passenger seat and turned to the adjacent road. However…

“Oh, my God!”

She suddenly slammed the brakes, but it was a little too late. The car still slid forward, hitting a man who had suddenly stopped while crossing the street. Even as he fell onto the wet pavement, his hand was still over his chest. Alhaitham's mother quickly backed up, got out of the car, and ran over to him.

“A-are you all right?”

The man groaned and winced in pain.

She ran back, opened the passenger door, and picked up her phone. However, it was completely dead. She gritted her teeth and quickly hurried back to the man.

“I’ll take you to the hos—”

Wait a minute.

Would she be held responsible for hitting him? But… he wasn’t suffering because of her… right? He was in pain first, and she just… barely hit his leg. It wasn’t her fault. Right? Then, there was also her all-important presentation. She couldn’t afford to be late. Excuses would look terrible on her.

She slowly backed up, her hands shaking.

This wasn’t her fault.

“Oh, my God! Are you okay?”

A young woman rushed onto the street and quickly lifted the man’s head. When the man remained unresponsive, she quickly took her phone from her bag and called an ambulance.

Alhaitham’s mother slowly smiled. Yes. It wasn’t her fault. Besides, he would be fine. Someone called the ambulance. Everything was going to be okay. Then, she quickly got in her car, ignoring the young woman’s calls and drove off.

However, that was just the beginning. What happened to him? He didn't make the news which means he was still alive... right? 

She'd done a little digging and discovered that the man's family took him off life support. What she got out of that was that she was no murderer.

The thought still haunts her to this day: if she had taken him to the hospital in the car that day, would he still be alive? Did she just… let him die?

Your last name. The man’s last name. It must be just a coincidence. There’s no way the man she left to die that day was your father, right? When she heard your full name, she felt the blood leave her face.

That’s why she wanted to know more about your family at dinner. You didn’t specify how he died, but the questions are all flooding back. What happened to him? Why was he taken off life support? It had nothing to do with her… right? She briefly recalls what you told her at dinner before you excused yourself for the washroom.

“...I’m very sorry that happened,” she said. Then, with a stiffer tone, she asked, “...But you said he… survived the accident. May I ask why your mother decided to take him off life support?”

“Mom,” Alhaitham warned.

“...It was the aftermath,” you said. Then, you looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather not talk about my father’s death.”

"Ah, yes, of course," she said.

A loud honk behind her startles her out of her thoughts. Then, as the car slowly rolls forward, she grips the steering wheel tighter. She might have been suspicious of you using Alhaitham. But, if the man she left on the street that day really is your father…

She needs answers. A confirmation. Anything. For the sake of her sanity.

Once she enters the parking lot of her apartment building and parks the car, Alhaitham’s mother takes out her phone and calls the one person she’s betting to get her answers from.

◆◆◆

Alhaitham has just returned home when his phone goes off.

“...Mom?”

“Haitham, there’s… something I want to ask.”

He puts his keys away and puts a hand on the counter. “...Good timing. There’s something I’d like to know, too.” When all he gets is silence, Alhaitham asks, “How did you know what happened to her father?”

“...Wha… What are you saying, Haitham?”

“It was when she said her father wasn’t around anymore.” Alhaitham turns and leans against the counter. “You automatically assumed the worst.”

His mother forces a little smile. “You’re thinking way too much! Anyone would think that the person is gone after hearing a statement like that!”

“...You were also strangely nervous like you are now.”

“Stop it, Haitham.”

He can go on. Why is she getting so defensive? But, instead, he drops it, and says, “...You wanted to ask me something?”

“...I don’t understand. Why does it seem like you’re assuming the worst of me? Is it because I hid the divorce from you? I did it to protect you! I didn’t want you getting distracted by all of this… this bullshit. You had your career to focus on.”

“It’s not the divorce.”

“Then, what?”

“If it’s my girlfriend you want to get to know, you should’ve asked me first instead of asking about her through other people. Yes, Layla knows her, and so does Grandfather. But no one knows her better than I do. They might not have a bad impression on her, but”—his gaze hardens—“I don’t want to give anyone a chance to gossip about her.” Then, he softly sighs. “...Your intentions may have been good, but with you hiding the divorce for so long… it's a little difficult to think otherwise.”

A small pause.

"...I'm sorry, Haitham. Truly."

"...I just wish we can be a little more honest with each other. No more secrets."

"I will! I promise."

Alhaitham smiles slightly. "What did you want to ask?"

She clears her throat. "I… want to know more about her father.”

He raises a brow. “Her father?”

“...That’s right.”

“Why?”

It's a question she's expecting but still doesn't know how to answer. She has to give one… if she wants to cast a good light on herself again.

“I might know him.”

“...You might know her father?” Alhaitham asks, obviously surprised. “How?”

“It’s… it’s a long story. I don’t know if I do or not. And, it might be a sensitive topic to bring up to her, so I want to ask through you.”

Is Alhaitham suspicious? If he is, it’s not obvious in his tone. “...I don’t know much about him.”

"Well… I was just curious about how he died."

A small pause.

“...I know just as much as you do.”

She takes a small breath. “I see.”

“...I think she might appreciate knowing someone who knew her father,” Alhaitham says. “Besides, it sounds like you’re very curious.”

“Well… not that curious. But…” She takes a small breath. “You should get some sleep, Haitham. You have work tomorrow.”

Once Alhaitham ends the call, he thinks back to the brief shock on his mother’s face when she heard your name. If she might’ve known your father, why didn’t she ask? And now she’s coming to him to ask about his death. Alhaitham rubs the space between his brows.

Hang on.

He’s not living in one of those crazy dramas. There’s no way his mother had something to do with your father’s death… Right?

Back at a fancy, high-end apartment, Alhaitham's mother has just walked into her suite when the line goes through.

"...Hello?"

"There's something I'd like you to do."

Alhaitham's secretary sits on the couch. "...It sounds urgent."

Then, she says your name. "I want to know more about her family, especially her father."

“May I ask why?”

“...I’d rather you not. But I’m not planning anything if that’s what you’re wondering.”

"Then, why are you asking me instead of your son?"

"I don't want to alarm him."

“...With what?”

She sighs loudly. “That woman's father and I… may have crossed paths before.”

“Is that bad?”

“Do you need to ask so many questions?”

“...You’re asking me to get potentially private information on your son’s girlfriend without his knowledge. I’d like to know why.”

A small silence.

“Because it just might break him.”

◆◆◆

“Oh, my God! My eyes!”

“Why didn’t you knock?” Lumine says angrily as her twin brother quickly covers his eyes with his hands.

Childe sighs. “Should I put my shirt back on?”

Aether slowly moves his fingers apart and sees Lumine put down her pencil. Childe also breaks his pose and sits on a chair, getting a well-deserved break from modelling for over thirty minutes. Despite preparing to leave for Snezhnaya, Childe still agreed to help model for one of Lumine's character designs.

“I didn’t know you were into nude paintings, Lumine,” Aether says.

“It's practice for anatomy! And he wasn't naked!"

Aether side-eyes his sister. Childe has his shirt back on as she sighs. Then, Aether steals a peek at his sister’s drawing. “Ooh, not bad, though. You actually make him look good.”

Childe and Aether exchange a deadpan look.

“...Anyway, I, um, I heard you’re leaving Sumeru for a while,” Aether says.

“Don’t miss me too much, kid.”

Aether awkwardly scratches his head. “You will come back, right?”

Lumine and Childe glance at each other, and she smiles. “Why’re you asking, Aether? Are you going to miss him?”

“I’ll miss making fun of him.”

Childe walks over and swings an arm around Aether. "I'll bring you a souvenir. How does that sound?"

“Why are you leaving, anyway?”

“...It’s complicated.”

“...But Lumine knows why, right?”

She looks at her brother. “Aether?”

"I mean… I don't have to know, obviously. But she's your girlfriend."

“She knows,” Childe says with a small smile. Then, he ruffles Aether’s hair. “I have no intention of hiding anything from her.”

“Gah! Cut it out!” Aether quickly moves away. Just before he leaves Lumine’s room, he looks over his shoulder. “J-just so you know… I won’t forgive you if you hurt her!” Then, before anyone can say anything, he runs off. Soon, they hear a door shut.

Childe and Lumine look at each other and laugh. Then, he sits next to her and looks at the drawing.

“Is this your first time drawing people?” he asks.

“Not exactly. I did some projects for school, but… I sorta fell out of it.” Childe looks at her curiously, so she continues, “A lot of people were better than me at it, but I also wasn't as interested in drawing people at the time.”

“What sparked the interest now?” He winks at her. "Don't tell me it's because you got a hot model."

Lumine rolls her eyes with a small smile. "Well... that does keep the interest, I guess." Childe chuckles. Then, she says, "But, I guess I was getting bored... It sounds horrible, doesn't it? I’m only like a month away from graduating, and I’m already getting tired of what I’m doing.”

“But you’re seeking new challenges.” He gently pinches her nose. “You want to better yourself, and that’s admirable.” Then, quietly, “Some people just like to stay in their comfort zone.”

Is there something on his mind?

“...Hey, just curious, ever since that screenwriting contest… did you ever try again?”

“Why do you ask?” Childe asks.

"Well… I know there's the issue with your family and all… but you're still writing commercial and short video scripts, right? I just thought you'd want to go into screenwriting for dramas like Sis." Childe is silent for a moment until Lumine pokes his cheek. "Did I say something wrong?"

“No,” Childe says with a slightly wry smile. “...I still do.”

“...But?”

“....Well, I guess I’m not as talented as I thought. No matter how hard I try.”

Lumine puts her hands on Childe’s cheeks and makes him face her. Is this what it feels like to be on the other side? Is this what Childe feels when she’s telling him about how she doesn’t feel good enough at her craft?

“What are you saying?” she asks. “You got third without having any experience at the time. That doesn't come easy for a lot of people. You were right behind Sis who was actually studying screenwriting at the time. So, don't say that!"

“But even after so many years,” Childe says, looking straight ahead, “I still can’t beat her.”

Lumine’s eyes widen. “...Wait a minute. Have you been thinking of Sis as your rival all this time?”

“I… guess I’ve started to see her as a standard.” He sighs. “I’m not sure when it started, but seeing her reach new heights is both exciting and infuriating. As her friend, I’m happy for her. But…”

“...Yet you aren’t,” Lumine finishes quietly. “I can understand that. But you know… what are you going to do after that?”

Childe looks at her.

“Are you going to look for someone else to beat?”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Childe says with a small smile. “I should only be competing with myself, right?” He leans closer to her. “...Then, I guess I can say the same for you, Lulu.”

Lumine puts a hand on the back of his neck and leans closer. “We’re… kind of similar, huh?”

Chide puts a hand around her head, bringing her closer. “...Perhaps I should learn from you. Even though you’re afraid, you’re still giving this a shot.” He smiles. “Which you obviously should because it’d be such a waste.” He glances at her lips and says quietly, “...Just like how it’d be a waste not to kiss you right now.”

Just as their mouths meet, they immediately hear another loud gasp. Lumine quickly pulls away and hears her brother say, "Would it kill you to close the door?"

She turns around. “Because someone would just open it again,” she huffs.

“So... am I not supposed to walk over here regardless if the door is open or closed?” Aether says.

Lumine sighs, and she feels Childe kiss her head. Then, in a low whisper, he says, “Still better than nothing.”

◆◆◆

Alhaitham's mother is anxiously twirling her pencil between her fingers when she hears a knock at her door. When she opens it, she immediately lets the man inside.

"Do you have it?"

Alhaitham's secretary takes out a wide, cream-coloured envelope from inside his blazer and hands it to her. When he notices her hesitation, he asks, "Do you not want to see it?"

She takes the envelope from him and slides the documents out. He watches her intense stare as her eyes wander down the page.

Stroke. Bleeding. Punctured lung. 

"...Are you okay?" he asks.

She continues reading the page, the keywords making her chew on a nail.

External injury. Made it worse. 

She stops, her arm falling to her side. The papers fall onto the floor, and Alhaitham's secretary sees the photo of your father. Then, he turns back.

"...Did you get the answer you wanted?"

Alhaitham's mother puts a hand on her head and almost laughs. "...And so much more."

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @sakiimeo @ash-in-lavender @ceylestia @forsh4dow @deathkat657 @kalpie @elernity @sentieence @chichibleeps @sunsethw4 @hjjks @tanspostsblog @nqctre @just-simping-over-genshin @uchihaeirin @vynbin @ayanokomu @dksfl920 @rin1802 @itztaki @thetwinkims @imkaaayy @angeilix @starlighttotheleft @letthewindlead @thelonelyarchon @certaindreampost @winterpein @theprinceofkhaos @vvyeislazzy @warrior-of-justice @n8mareee

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[cockasinthebird]

So so so long ago, I told the dearest @opaldraws that I would write her a fic for her Instagram Steve au, which is one of my favourite aus because he so would have a huge following and post gorgeous lavish pics of himself with all that his parents’ money can buy, and I did start writing it! Only it took me, say, half a year or more to finish it??

So here you go! To Opal and every other reader, I hope you enjoy!

-

His oversized shirt a dusty rosa, fuzzy and just a bit too long in the sleeves, the neck of it slipping down to expose moles dotting one shoulder. Skinny jeans in a light denim hug his legs like they were sewn for him specifically, it’s a wonder to behold. 

Steve is warm and cozy inside, lying down on a daybed, surrounded by pillows, posing in front of large windows peering out onto the frozen forest, barren and covered in snow. Hawkins is brutally cold during the winters; so unforgiving that the photo shoots they do outside are thankfully scarce, even though Steve would work himself sick with a cold.

If it wasn’t for Billy and his stern insistence, Steve would have gotten frostbite seven times already this winter daring to wear just too little for the sake of fashion and aesthetic. Anything for his 800k followers.

But all his adoring boyfriend can really do most of the time is stand behind the camera and appreciate all of Steve’s gorgeous self with an all too satisfied sigh, as Steve glances over his shoulder at the camera, lashes done up with just a gentle hint of mascara, hearts scattered like freckles across his nose and cheeks. 

Valentines is two weeks away by now, and Steve wants to show off and inspire some date looks, soft and delicate and beautiful. He never does anything with his hair, really, everyone already so jealous of the phenomenal floof of it that he wouldn’t ever dream of changing it now - the pastel aesthetic and his hair is practically his entire brand!

He poses on his stomach with his legs bent, feet kicking in the air, sleeves pulled over his hands as he smiles coyly.

Then he’s on his side, chest turned towards the camera, one leg bent with an arm draped over it, face turned away to give the perfect profile. 

And then he’s on his back, head hanging over the foot end of the daybed, hair just grazing the floor as he looks directly into the camera, eyes big and brown.

Just like Bambi, is the oft used comparison by Billy, and even if this is slightly boring, he can’t help but smile at how utterly beautiful his boyfriend is.

He stays kneeling there, even as he lowers the phone to meet with Steve’s gaze directly, and all the same, Steve stays hanging there, smiling at the way Billy stares with adoration.

“What?” he huffs incredulously.

Billy doesn’t find words to respond right away, he’s always more adept with action instead, and moves in to kiss those perfect lips, so soft and pink, both of them smiling into the embrace, Billy’s hands smoothing across Steve’s cheeks, careful as to not ruin the makeup. 

“I just… love you,” Billy hums with closed eyes, not giving Steve time to miss him.

And Steve laughs again - a sound so blithe and full of joy it’s invigorating and humbling. He reaches up to run his fingers down Billy’s golden curls, raking painted nails across his scalp and tugs there gently till he receives a delighted groan.

At the parting of lips, Steve dives in with his tongue, meeting Billy’s in a lackadaisical sense that urges forth affable moans from both, heat surging up and down Steve’s splayed out shape with every salacious little noise.

“Mmmh, ah… are you- are you done?” Billy whispers, travels away from lips to kiss along Steve’s freshly shaved jawline.

There’s no immediate response as Steve stays still, enjoying the praising kisses like gentle butterflies. He eventually grabs Billy by the sides of his face to guide him away, letting their eyes meet, staying there for seconds too long, admiring the ocean view; crystal clear waters brimming with love.

“Just getting started,” he chuckles once more, but the intent of it this time far more salacious, and Billy’s quick to catch on to that.

Steve rolls around in a rush and gets up on all fours, back arched beautifully, the large sweater hanging loose off of him. He bats his lashes at Billy, who can’t help the insanely cheesy grin spreading from ear to ear, before reaching down to yank at the belt loops of Billy’s jeans, beckoning him to stand up.

And Billy would never dream of not giving his princess what he wants, getting up on his feet only to bring his half hard cock straight into Steve’s eyesight.

A pleased hum roams around Steve’s chest as he slowly undoes Billy’s belt, gazing up with a sly little smirk as he pops free the button and lets the zipper run loose. When fingers curl around the denim to pull down his pants, Billy himself grabs the hem of his shirt and throws it over his head and away, never-minding where it might land since literally nothing else matters right now other than the way Steve’s licking his lips.

“Look so good for me, sweetheart,” Billy coos and gently pushes away the few locks that obscures Steve’s pretty face. “Gorgeous.”

He knows that that’s all Steve wants to hear - that he’s pretty and beautiful and gorgeous and attractive and desired, and Billy knows that flattery will get him everywhere, but even if he sought no boon, he’d still spend every single day of his life praising his boyfriend endlessly, and he plans on doing just that till there’s no more breath in his lungs.

But right now it proves most helpful in urging Steve on, leading him to run his open mouth along the thick outline of Billy’s trapped cock, tongue out to wet the fabric of his black trunks, up to the tip where he nibbles with lips around the head, lapping at where pre cum stains.

The euphoric sensation can be heard in Billy’s stuttering breath, seen in the manner his abs twitch with restraint, felt by the hand tugging in dark locks of hair.

Steve teases the elastic band of Billy’s underwear as he moves further up, dipping his fingers in and running them around the waist, lips just inches above to kiss the warm and taut skin. At an all too torturous pace he pulls down the fabric just enough to expose Billy’s flushed and steely cock, Steve’s lustful gaze following a throbbing vein from the shiny head to the waxed base.

He leans in to press his nose against the fresh skin, inhaling the musky scent deeply, planting wet kisses on every inch within reach, and finally wraps his fingers around Billy’s all too eager erection, the blushing bride nail-polish pairing well with the red of his hard cock.

“Stevie…” Billy breathes his name reverently, filled with lust and devotion, hands petting soft hair.

And Steve gazes up through his lashes at the amorous whisper of his name, taking in how intently Billy watches his every movement. Eyes locked together like this, Steve slips out his tongue to wet his lips till they’re shiny and slick with spit, then presses it flat against the side of Billy’s girthy cock, licking the entire length of it, all the while admiring how his boyfriend gasps and moans at the sight of a most salacious display.

“Fuck, baby,” his voice airy with anticipation.

The hand around him squeezes gently and he can’t help the inevitable thrust as his body seeks more friction. Just so, Steve can’t help the self-satisfied and amused little hum either, mouth vibrating against the veiny shaft, which only worsens the situation for Billy even more as he practically whines,

“Shit, pretty boy, please.”

“Well…” Steve muses and runs the tip of his tongue over Billy’s leaking slit, slow and agonizing, treasuring the salty taste of him. “You did say please.”

He slathers up his lips with spit before closing them around the blunt head, pressing it up against his palate as he sinks all the way down to the base, sloppy in the way he massages every inch of hard flesh with his tongue, eyes fluttering closed as Billy reaches the back of his throat.

Steve revels in every single sound Billy let’s out, the drawn out notes of pleasure.

“God, ahh…”

With hollow cheeks he moves back to the head, tongue swirling around like he’s enjoying a lollipop, fingers back around the now shiny shaft to stroke all of his length that isn’t inside Steve’s mouth. Fast then slow, the pressure perfected in a way that proves just how often he’s done this. He drinks up every spurt of pre, twisting and turning his head in tact with his hand, allowing the occasional thrusts Billy can’t hold back.

Until fingers pull at his hair; hard and earnest enough to make Steve stop and move off, looking up at Billy with red and shiny lips, well used and oh so pretty, oh so enticing. He lets himself be guided up on his knees, meeting Billy where he bends over to kiss him, hungrily tasting how exquisite his own pre and Steve’s spit mixes sweetly together, thumb smoothing over his cheeks and down to drag at Steve’s chin, opening up his mouth to let Billy lick into his heat, suck on his tongue and lightly nibble at his swollen lip.

“Fuck, sweetcheeks,” Billy breathes out and presses their foreheads together, “I wanna cum in you so bad.”

A delighted hum bubbles forth from Steve’s chest and out through the warmest smile any one human can manage, and oh how pleasant it sounds when he says, “Go get the lube, then.”

Billy kisses his forehead once, twice, thrice before awkwardly waddling towards the doorway, struggling to step out of his jeans, then whipping around so fast his mullet snaps in the air.

“Don’t… get undressed without me…” he says most ardently with a raised finger for emphasis.

And before Steve even gets to answer, Billy’s pantsless; hurrying through the hallway, heading for the stairs and leaving behind a trail of his boxers and socks. It’s nice to know how comfortable he is here in Steve’s house, no parents around, no siblings or kids. Just the two of them in solitude together.

He can be heard upstairs, running with heavy feet from the stairs and into Steve’s bedroom, to the bedside table where he finds the bottle immediately, then runs back the same way he came from, till he’s standing once more in the doorway to the conservatory, in such record time he should maybe consider joining the track team come summer.

Slightly affected by running, he breathes out heavily, “Now… do continue…”

Steve’s smile goes wide, feels it burn in his cheeks as he leans down to yank off his socks, balls them up together and throws them at where Billy stands and receives a laugh in return of that.

“You’re impossible,” he says lowly and with a slight roll of the eyes, but Steve’s quick to bring a finger up to his lips and make a shushing sound.

Next the zipper runs free and Steve sits back down on the daybed to pull the skinny jeans off in a rather awkward manner, almost as if he’s vaguely refusing to give Billy exactly what he wants, but it seems inevitable when Steve then gathers his legs closed, the oversized knit sweater pooling slightly around where he’s seated, giving the illusion that he’s wearing nothing else, a shoulder still peeking out. 

Billy’s gaze travels up Steve’s bare legs to where moles vanish beneath the rosa fabric, and when their eyes meet, heat clashes together between them with unspoken intentions.

Steve only breaks eye contact to look down at where Billy now starts slowly stroking himself, and he bites his lip at the sight of it, veiny and wet, electric lust coursing through him and down. Down to where he’s been oh so needy and hard for far too long now. And as he leans back, supporting himself with one hand on the daybed, he reaches for the hemline of his sweater, keeps his lip caught between teeth, eyes heavy and sensual as he watches Billy licking his lips in anticipation.

So simple in truth, when Steve lifts up his shirt just enough to give Billy a clear view of his lengthy dick, the outline of it perfect in white briefs, a wet spot forming at the head. Even from here Steve can hear the way Billy’s breath shudders, can hear how he pants and exhales.

“God, Bambi, what’d I ever do to deserve you?”

That gentle praise is all Steve needs, to be told he’s something to be deserved, something holy maybe, cherished and desired to a point where people can’t function. It’s like magic, and it works all those wonders, too, as proven by how Steve spreads his legs and lifts the shirt even higher, up and up till he pulls it over his head, ruffling his hair, but that doesn’t matter right now.

All that matters is Steve giving Billy what he wants, and Billy giving Steve what he needs.

Billy approaches him slowly, suddenly not finding urgency of importance, to then kneel before Steve like one would at a shrine. Kissing firmly with devotion he travels up the inside of pale thighs, giving attention to every mole in his path till he’s met with the leg of white trunks.

Much to Steve’s irritation, Billy skips right past the entire area covered still in cloth, and continues from where the elastic waistband hugs tightly, kissing his way across Steve’s abs, his pecs, collarbone, neck, chin, and instinctively Steve lets his mouth slip open as Billy’s tongue glides across his lower lip before dipping into a sweet and ardent kiss.

In the same moment of such pure infatuation as is found in between their lips, Billy’s fingers hook themselves on the border of Steve’s trunks, whom in turn lifts up his ass to allow for the elastic band to smoothly slip past and down his thighs, his wettened dick hitting his stomach with a lucid slap.

Billy breaks away for them both to gasp for air, to look down at where Steve is drenched in pre.

“So wet for me, princess,” he drawls alluringly, bringing one hand to wrap his fingers gently around Steve’s hardened flesh.

“Mmhm, fuck, Billy…” Steve coos in tact with the slow stroking of his cock, fighting the urge to thrust into the temperate fist, each jerk sending sparks up his spine, causing his thighs to shake.

And Billy kisses the euphoric furrow between Steve’s brows, his flushed cheeks, the moles there, his jaw, down the slope of his neck to bury his nose in the crook and inhales the lingering scent from his honey body wash.

Steve’s head falls back with whines and whimpers at the near lackadaisical stroking, far too little friction, agonizing, lovely. He tilts his head aside and brings a hand up to guide Billy till their lips meet, sloppy and loose kisses as Steve whispers most pathetically,

“Please, don’t tease me like this, Billy, I need you…”

“Then let me take care of you,” says Billy as he leans away to meet with Steve’s gaze, who nods with a sigh.

It’s a bit of a mess really, getting comfortable on the daybed that’s barely long enough for one adult to lay there, then with a billion pillows as well that spill onto the floor as Steve shoves them away to lay down flat against the cushioned seating. There’s limbs everywhere and a near kick to Billy’s face as they settle with him kneeling between Steve’s legs, but it’s all with a good laugh and wide smiles as nothing can truly deter their drive to be brought together like this.

“So gorgeous like this, sweet stuff, all for me,” Billy drawls, voice thick with how possessive he truly is. 

Steve’s thighs fall further apart at that; how easy he is when subjected to Billy’s heated gaze that promises him everything, that lustful tongue that swipes across his lips, the hand smoothly slipping down the inside of his thigh, palm heavy and burning, inching closer and closer to where Steve is suddenly so starved.

The lube that gets drizzled onto Billy’s fingers is cold when pressed against Steve’s entrance, sending a wave of goosebumps up his thighs, eliciting a little shocked inhale from above.

“Cold?” Billy asks with a well humoured huff as he looks up.

“Cold,” Steve says like it’s an important statement, yet he can’t help but to smile at the way Billy chuckles lightly.

And when Billy kisses Steve’s inner thigh all apologetic, he can only hum pleasantly, and when the tip of a digit goes in, moan. He drops his head back and onto a pillow as Billy continues to move his finger deeper and deeper, down to the knuckle just to pull out again without pause, setting a gentle and slow pace of thrusting his middle finger in and out of Steve’s lubed up, clenching hole.

“Mmh, ahh,” Steve breathes out loud as he melts like butter, mixing with the way Billy kisses soothingly up and down his thigh.

It doesn’t take long before Billy’s confident that Steve can take another digit, and is proven right with the, “Yes, God,” that spills from parted lips with a satisfied sigh. Billy loves watching how easily his fingers slide in and out, loves listening to the moans that grow louder when he curls the two fingers inside, loves feeling how Steve’s body tightens around him whenever he finds that bundle of nerves and presses against it. How Steve’s entire body writhes in the pleasure of it, moving to seek more, as if he’s in charge here.

“Please,” he pleads.

“That feel good?” Billy asks with a smug grin pressed against soft skin, looking up in hopes of catching how Steve’s face crumbles as he begs.

The answer is a short, airy, “Yes,” as if longer words would steal from his moaning and keening.

He doesn’t get a third finger before Billy’s already lubing his girthy cock up, because he knows how Steve wants it; how he loves the slight burn as his body stretches around his boyfriend’s width. And in true fashion of that, Steve gasps almost ecstatically as Billy lines up the tip of his fat prick with Steve’s clenching, tight hole.

“God, please, yes Billy-” he rambles out until Billy starts pushing in and his words are abruptly discontinued to instead allow a loud and euphoric moan freedom.

Billy inches closer and closer as he stays on his knees, the daybed just the perfect height for such a salacious affair, like it was bought subconsciously for a good and thorough fucking. And lucky for them how alone and quiet it is out here, for surely everyone in Hawkins would hear how vocal Steve is when he gets pounded in bed, how he can’t shut up even now as Billy’s just about bottoming out, groaning at how Steve clenches hungrily around the base of his cock.

How beautifully Steve’s back arches as his body trembles, a hand up to grasp at Billy’s shoulder, his face buried in brown hair and soft pillows, from where he pants breathlessly as he adjusts to the welcome intrusion.

It’s all too tempting to just bend down and kiss up along Steve’s pale stomach, lick a heavy tongue across perky nipples that can be felt in the way his body twitches and his breath stutters, nibble gently at his jaw once more, before whispering out,

“You fit me so well, Bambi, like your body was made for me to love.”

At that, Steve turns his head to catch the awe and adoration in those crystal clear eyes, but as Billy pulls out just to thrust back in, his eyes screw shut with exhilaration once more, a loud, “Fuck,” escaping.

Billy grunts as he speeds up to feed the urgent need they both give voice to. But it’s not enough. Not enough until Billy climbs onto the plushy bench, pushing Steve up higher till they’re both fully up on the daybed with those long legs tied around tan hips. 

With an iron grip on the frame above Steve’s head, Billy uses the leverage to slam into his boyfriend’s craving hole, skin growing sweaty as it slaps together between them, his other hand down by a hip to guide their bodies together.

Between curses Billy can’t help to let out sweet honey, too, “God you’re so good to me, baby, sounding like an angel choir when I fuck you like this.”

Steve’s hands both immediately land on either side of Billy’s head and pull him into a kiss brimming with love and desire. “I love you,” he speaks softly, like it’s his most cherished truth, “I love you Billy.”

And Billy can’t help the chuckle that brushes against Steve’s lips between kisses, as hearing this still shocks him, even after years of dating and having sex. It’s astonishing that someone this beautiful and magnificent can’t love a beast like himself.

He curls around Steve; wrapping both his arms around his back as he draws them both nearer, balanced together on the far too small daybed that creaks beneath their shared weight.

“Love how strong you are,” Steve whispers as he kisses Billy’s temple, his hand brushing through golden locks. It’s almost impressive how sturdy his words seem when he’s an otherwise whining mess of ecstasy and blithe curses. “Love how good you feel inside of me, ah-”

Billy keeps his nose pressed against Steve’s neck, breathing in how appetising sweat and body-wash mixes. Every single word pushes him closer to the edge, makes his hips buck and dick pulsate.

“I’m close,” he murmurs between kisses.

“M-me too, oh fuck, please, harder,” it spills from delicious lips and into Billy’s ear.

And who is he not to oblige such obscene pleas. With his knees firmly planted on the cushions, and at a pace that will leave him sore tomorrow, Billy gives his most beloved all that he can, the blunt head of his cock near bullying that golden bundle of nerves buried deep inside of Steve, who in turn can only cry blissfully.

It doesn’t take long before he’s cumming loud and ruthlessly, covering them both in hot white, his entire body tensing up to a point where he’s ardently milking Billy’s cock for all it’s worth, as he cums shortly after with groans and thrusts that slaps so hard it leaves Steve’s cheeks red with abuse.

It’s a short moment filled with warm explosions like fireworks as he pumps his remaining energy deep inside of his boyfriend’s ass, hugging him dearly till there’s no other sound that their laboured breaths.

Moments pass before Steve’s the first one to speak,

“I’m gonna be so sore in an hour after this.”

“Promise I’ll kiss it better,” Billy chuckles out and kisses Steve’s shoulder.

“You better,” comes the response and they both laugh joyfully at that, because yes, Billy is absolutely going to make Steve feel all better again soon.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

I just saw your post on the matchups,,, but first of all - CONGRATULATIONS!! you deserve it so much<3

and can I please request a match-up?

my pronouns are she/they and I'm a lesbian! I'm infj and aries!

I'm 5,6 and I have brown-purple long length hair with hazel eyes.

I love learning about flowers and lgbtq+ history, singing, exploring nature, traveling, and baking! oh, and painting rocks!

well, I'm very quiet and closed off to strangers. but with my friends, my personality totally changes. they describe me as kind, responsible, chaotic, and pretty cheerful! but also realistic and honest (in a nice way?). I think that fits my actual personality.

I'm a very good listener, but I also really want someone to listen to me. also, someone that tells me how things are and is pretty good at communication because I'm a big overthinker. physical affection would be great as well. just someone who loves me as much as I love them.

my worst weakness is being bad at confrontation! but my biggest strength I think is being cared about others.

I also love picnics and studio ghibli movies!

I don't know if this helps but I listen to Mitsuki, mother mother and marina and the diamonds a lot.

photos for the relationship would be better, please!

thank you and congratulations again꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

Okay okay okay, I know this is a character matchup but like... can I match you up with me? You literally sound perfect.

Also, amazing taste in music, Mitski and Mother Mother are totally my two favorite artists!

Enough of that, I match you with...

ANNIE LEONHART

-----

Okay, reading this ask, it was basically screaming Annie at me

It feels like it would be a really stable and mutually beneficial relationship

At first, she was drawn to you just because of how quiet you were

Because, thank god, there was someone in the cadets who knew how to keep their mouth shut

Plus, she couldn't deny at all that she was physically attracted to you, too

So, for a while, she stuck by your side, watching over you like a hawk would to her territory

But, over time, you seemed to start talking to her much more

It surprised her at first, but she quickly decided she liked the talkative you much better

You seemed so genuinely happy to be near her, always smiling and spending time with her, no matter how stoic and unresponsive she stayed

And, she couldn't deny that occasionally getting roped into your little schemes and jokes was a little amusing sometimes

The more time she spent around you, the more she felt her affection grow towards you

It started with just an innocent curiosity, but was quickly growing into a genuine crush

She resisted pretty fiercely at first, refusing to admit her feelings or, heaven forbid, confess

But time passed, and it grew harder and harder for her to hide it

The way you would so casually put your hand on her shoulder, acting like it was such a platonic gesture. It was, to you, but to her, it made her heart flutter and her face redden

But she'd persist on keeping it hidden

That is, until she can't take it anymore

Having you around her so often, being so friendly to such an aloof person like her... it was driving her wild

So, one day, she quietly led you by your hand to a small open area in the forest near the barracks, having brought a soft blanket and a handful of stolen food for the two of you to share

She listens intently as you talk to her about whatever currently interested you, eating her portion of the food and making sure there was plenty left for you

Eventually, the sun was starting to set, and the two of you had ran out of food. You had to head back in soon, and Annie suddenly had no more time to stall

She quietly confessed her feelings to you, spilling the words from her heart in a moment of vulnerability that seldom surfaced

She raised her head to meet your glance, and you could her the slightest shake of nervousness in her voice as she asked if you liked her back

Which, you did, and you made it clear that you did very quickly

And boy, she was elated

Not that it showed on her face, but her heart was practically doing cartwheels as you moved over to hug her, and she immediately hugged back, practically involuntarily

Following the start of your relationship, Annie still stayed closely by your side, almost like a protector (a knight in shining armor, if you will)

If anyone, anyone, tries to start shit with you, she's immediately there to tell them that "she doesn't want anything to do with you, back off"

But, when the two of you are alone, she gets very soft

Insists on touching you in some way

Not sexually, but just laying your head in her lap, or leaning against her chest

She'll just melt having someone who she cares about deeply, someone like you, so close to her

She truly feels like she has the whole world in her arms whenever you cuddle with her

Refuses to let you go whenever there's "still extra time to cuddle"

ESPECIALLY at night

She will spoon you the entire night, and dare you even try to wiggle away, she's pulling you right back

Even when she's asleep, she'll always make sure that you're firmly against her front, like a giant teddy bear she refuses to let go of

Whenever you're anxious or upset, she makes sure that she's the first one you go to

She's not the best with words, but she can sure as hell listen

She'll always make sure you've vented out all your feelings, be it frustration, anger, sadness, grief, anything

She'll cradle you in her arms and pull you against your chest if you start crying, coddling you in the most comforting way she can manage

And if she's upset about something, she'll be a bit hesitant, but she'll ask if she can talk about something with you

And she sounds alarmingly small whenever she vents like this

Sometimes she might want to cuddle, other times she wants your words to reassure her that she's worth it, and sometimes she just wants someone to listen patiently

Sometimes, when it's really bad for her, she'll ask you to sing for her, and by the time the song is finished, you'll find her already asleep against your chest

She even started calling you her little songbird on occasion after that

But don't be fooled by her nonchalant behavior, this woman would do anything for you

-----

"Alright cadets, sparring is up! You'll be on free time until the sun begins to set, then file into the cafeteria for dinner!" Commander Shadis shouts over the commotion of the sparring ground. You finally stilled your movements, dropping your fists from their defensive stance and letting them fall to your sides, taking in a large sigh of air. Immediately, almost all of the cadets, including your training partner, dissipate to seek out their own little friend groups, using the rare free time as a chance to unwind and relax with your friends.

A warm hand on your shoulder startles you out of your breathless and oblivious state, and you turn to find the owner of the hand; none other than Annie.

"Hey, I was watching you from where I was sparring." She started, moving her hand in slow circles to lazily massage your shoulder in a calming manner. "You're technique is improving. Well done, you're catching on fast."

You sigh, tilting your head back to stare up at the sky. "Yeah, I guess..." You mutter. It didn't escape you how your voice sounded fragile and weak, but you weren't surprised. You had been feeling pretty awful for the past few days now, and as time passed seemingly without any time to breathe, you could only feel as the soreness seeped through your muscles, headache already starting to pound away at your temple, throbbing painfully.

Annie tilted her head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowing in concern as her hand stilled. "You okay? You don't sound good."

"I'm fine, just didn't get enough sleep."

"Liar." She spoke bluntly. You knew she was only trying to pry out what was wrong, but it didn't stop the sting of the word. "What's really going on? You can tell me." Her voice softened drastically from her previous tone, practically coaxing you to spill all of your worries onto her.

“Really, don't worry about it-"

"HEY Y/N! ANNIE!" An obnoxious voice called over the buzzing of voices left and right. The short-tempered brunette, Eren, jogged over to where you two were, trailed closely by Armin, Mikasa, Jean, and Reiner.

"We're going out to the forest to see who can collect the most berries, wanna come?" He chirped, inviting you into his little competition. If your body didn't feel like pure shit right now, you would consider joining him.

"It's fine." Annie interjects, taking a few subtle steps forward, standing in front of you to avoid bringing you into the purposefully short conversation. "She isn't feeling well, we're going to head to the barracks."

Eren's eyes traveled from Annie towards you, then back at Annie. Finally, he shrugged, turning around and walking away. "If you say so. But I'm not sharing any just so you know."

Once the small group had all started in the direction opposite of you and Annie, she took your hand firmly. "C'mon." She mumbled, tugging at your wrist to get you to follow.

She led you exactly where she said she would: the barracks. There, she found your bed, the one you had agreed to share with her, pulling the blankets up and climbing underneath them. Silently, she stared at you, patting the space next to her as an invitation. You obeyed silently, lying down next to her, and feeling a small fraction of the tension in your body melt away the second Annie's arms wrapped around you.

"Are you sure you're okay? Seriously, I don't like seeing you look so miserable." She muttered into the crook of your neck, hand searching under the blanket for your own, soon finding your it and rubbing comforting circles over the back.

"Mhm..." You groaned, already fighting off the urge to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there. "Just... tired. I feel like Shadis hasn't given us a break in weeks. I'm so sore... and tired..." A quiet grumble breaks through the silence, from what you presume to be your own stomach. "...and hungry." You finish.

Annie laughs softly at your last statement, heat rising to her cheeks as she moves her body to kiss you on the forehead. "I'll make sure to split some of my rations with you darling, I don't mind."

Her soothing voice had an unfortunate (or fortunate, it all depends on the situation) effect on you, sleep already trying to grasp you and pull you into its realm.

"You don't... have to..." You mumbled, lolling your head to the side as your eyes slipped shut, all attempts at protest dying in your throat as you plunged into unconsciousness.

Annie smiled softly at your sleeping form, pulling you closer and planting another kiss to your forehead. "Sleep well."

-----

(I couldn’t make the images smaller help 😥)

[bts-reveries]

waste it on me | part 17 (text under images!)

“Stop staring at me like that,” you frowned. Taehyung was just standing in your hallway, watching you as you sat on your bed. 

“I’m not staring at you,” he says as he looks directly at you. You scrunch your brows. “I’m thinking right now,” he says as he stared into space. 

“Can you just come in and get this over with,” you pout pointing to the spot on your bed across from you. You and Taehyung have been friends for many many years. You two had always had a fun and goofy relationship. Yes there were fights here and there and some very serious conversations, but of course, you never liked fighting with him and serious conversations only happened when something bad was going on. You tried your best to avoid having them, but that doesn’t always happen. 

“I’m thinking if we should go eat first,” he says, looking down at his phone for the time. “You’re crankier when you’re hungry. I need to put you in a good mood first,” he says, turning around, heading to the front door.

“So you know you did something bad,” you yell from your bedroom.

“I had my reasons just like how Jungkook had his,” he yells back. “Now hurry up and let’s go! I can hear your stomach growling from here.” You scoff at his response, getting up from your bed with an attitude. He wasn’t wrong, you were hungry but you were saving room in your stomach for the bibimbap you and Jungkook planned to have.

***

“Uggggghhhh, sooo goood~” You say, finishing your last bite. 

“Are you full and happy,” Taehyung said taking a sip of his soda. You nod happily. “Alright, let’s talk then.” You frowned at him. You feel like if you had an older brother and you were getting scolded, this is how it’d feel like. 

“I was there when Jungkook’s parents had their final fight. I was helping Jungkook with his art project or something and his dad came in and told him to pack his things. Jungkook was heartbroken at that moment and he told me not to tell anyone.” He starts off. You nod at him for him to continue. “I also came over when he was leaving for the airport. No one really knew then that he was leaving. For good at least. He wasn’t the same Jungkook we knew anymore, he was really upset and angry over everything. He really cared about you though, he kept a photo of you on his bed side table and he packed it into his luggage when I was there. He also asked me to take care of you while he was gone.” Your eyebrows curved up and your bottom lip jutted out.

“Oh my gosh really?” You say quietly. Your heart might’ve just melted a little. Taehyung nods.

“For a thirteen year old, he was really in love with you. But he didn’t want me to let you know that. I told him that was stupid and why wouldn’t he want you to know that he cared about you so much. He said he didn’t want to break your heart and I told him it was going to happen either way if he just suddenly disappears but you know, teenage hormones. He said well if your heart broke, he won’t be there to witness it.” 

“He told me that when he got to LA, he did want to talk to me but he was afraid to find out what state I was in. He didn’t want to hear me sad or mad so he just didn’t bother at all.”

“I see. Well he really does care about you. I had faith in you guys all along and I know it was wrong for me to not tell you anything despite knowing everything else. But I wanted to keep my word with Jungkook.”

“But it’s been so long, you could’ve told me eventually.”

“I know, that’s my fault. I watched you fall for all these guys that didn’t deserve you and you had your heart broken a few times because you felt insecure about yourself. I thought telling you that you were okay and to just be confident was enough but you really did want validation that it wasn’t your fault. I could’ve told you everything right then and there, but in the back of my mind I always thought it would just be best if it came from Jungkook himself.”

“But you didn’t know we’d ever see Jungkook again. If Jungkook never came back,” you say, “would you have ever told me?” Taehyung looks up to think to himself. He nods.

“I would. But I knew he’d be here, he’s your soulmate. I can feel it in my guts,” he says, winking at you. You laugh. 

“You’re stupid. How could you have known? Have you been keeping in touch with him all these years?” Taehyung scoffs.

“Of course not. The man was afraid of me too when he first came back.” You nod, that’s true.

“Then how would you know?”You ask again. Taehyung simply shrugs.

“When two people are meant to be, they always find each other.” You glare at him. It made your heart flutter but you’re sure he got that from Kimi No Na Wa or something. 

Taehyung reaches over the table and grabs your hands.

“I know we both suck at being sentimental like this but I really am sorry that I didn’t tell you the whole truth when you needed it most. You’re my best friend and all I want is for you to be happy. But I really didn’t think that having the news come out to you by me would make you feel as good as it would’ve been if it came from Jungkook himself. I had my reasons on why I didn’t tell you but I also had reasons on why I should’ve told you. I’m really sorry that I made you upset.” You pout at him, squeezing his hand slightly.

To be honest, you weren’t as mad at Taehyung as you were when you first heard the news. But you both had your faults and reasons on why you two did what you did and acted how you acted. People make mistakes, and he did his with good intentions. He never had any intentions in making you upset. Of course you were going to forgive him.

“I understand why you did what you did, even though you could’ve been a bit smarter and just told me. But at the same time, if you did end up telling me, things would be so different now.”

“So do you forgive me,” he asks.

“I forgive you.” He smiles at you.

“Good.”

“You’re paying for this meal though.”

☞ ☞ ☞ ☞ ☞ ☞ ☞

waste it on me

☞part 17: kimi no na wa☜

→ pairings: jeon jungkook x reader

→ a/n: i don’t know if this is okay with you guys by how you acted when yn first showed she was upset buuuuuuuut this is what happened :3 

→ taglist:

@kookiemonstersugatea @lylanie12 @crazyferalvigilantedragonwriter @serious-addiction @zamasus-sugarbaby @cosmicdaylight @strwberry-jam @ratking101 @chiminilove @ask-blogger-miss-prussia @lyssjeon @moonlightrose19 @blueberrykenn @jungmanor @forkpops @nochujjk97 @bldvnbln @hplsmoon @kirbykook @girl-with-luvvv @vantaexx @ephyra1230 @girlwiththeglittereyeliner @akirathao @catspancake @kawaii-desv @strapsforyoonie @dammit-jjk @to-onystark @butterflylion @apollukee @xionysus @ilyluuna @uglyratlmao @iridescentplethora @monosomes @tomowasu @taekookcaneatme @mayumioutloud @rjsmochii @super-btstrash-posts @hellotherehoneybee @betysotelo18 @moon6rop @kxk-soul @honeycutelove @cchristinnaa @io-is-lame @shadowstark @goldenchemistry @incredibleella @sope-and-shine

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

to be notified when i post, please turn on my notifications! thank youu~

[neo-culture-taste]

Loosen Your Tie, Doyoung

Genre: AU, college, frat life, comedy, romance

Pairing: Doyoung X Fem (w/ the lovely appearance of fuccboi Yuta)

Rating: M for language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 9100+

Summary: He was an uptight nerd that just wanted to relax after taking his exams, but the universe had something more eventful planned for this particular evening.

Masterlist in blog description @neo-culture-taste.

Author’s note: A year ago Nctzens were given the gift that was NCT 2018 and with that gift came Doyoung’s teaser photo with him donning a blazer and tie. That one photo caused my creative juices to flow and thus this oneshot was born—an entire year ago. So a whole year later and a few tweaks here it is. Enjoy! - C

P.S - my imagination was running rampant when I first wrote this so 🤷🏽‍♀ 

“You have five minutes left.”

He flinched at the sudden tickle of the proctor’s words against his skin as he whispered into his ear. Doyoung absentmindedly nodded in agreement forcing down a scowl at the interruption of re-re-re-reviewing his physics based calculus midterm exam for the fourth time.

He absolutely hated computer-based exams. He had written several letters to the head of the physics department pleading that they change their decision on computer-based tests, citing that difficult mathematical exams of this magnitude would be more beneficial if the professors were present for any questions the student(s) may have. Not to mention the wrong numerical typo could be the decision between an A or D, and unfortunately Doyoung had witnessed that first hand amongst he and his classmates. It was a depressing sight to see aspiring engineers momentarily yanking their hairs out in fear of failing an exam thanks to one little, measly typo.

At first his letters fell on deaf ears until he became a class representative for his major on the student council. He was tired of seeing his classmates struggle and tired of having to visit his professor after each exam on the basis of a typo in order to raise his 93% A to a 100% A+. The department heads had no choice but to listen to the pleas of both Doyoung and his fellow students after a lengthy, yet informative presentation to the entire department.

After reaching the final question on what would be his last computer based physics exam of the semester, Doyoung took a deep breath and hovered the mouse over the submit button. The computer would automatically score his test once the time went down whether he was ready to see his grade or not; so deciding to bite the bullet, he closed his eyes and hit submit only waiting a few seconds before opening his eyes.

A beautiful 15 out of 15, 100% A+ graced the liquid crystal display, and a large smile fanned over Doyoung’s face as he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Unfortunately, the wretched garlic breath of the proctor finally infiltrated his senses despite occurring five minutes prior. That was just how focused he was.

Doyoung exited the exam’s browser and reached for his backpack underneath his chair, careful not to disturb the other students. With a bounce in his step he made way for the quad, stopping momentarily to do a celebratory twirl in the middle of the hallway and then popping in his earbuds. He had aced all of his midterms and could finally relax and take full advantage of a well-deserved break.

The sun was shining as brightly as ever casting shadows on students spread throughout the quad. Some were furiously doing last minute cramming, while others cried oceans of tears over their unsuccessful attempts at cramming, and others mirrored Doyoung and radiated the same exam-passing glow.

Feeling starved after supplying the neurons in his brain with enough glucose to ace his exam, Doyoung decided to make a quick turnaround in the quad and head towards the dining hall. Upon entering the cafeteria, he swiped his meal card before quickly reveling in the realization that today was Pizza Friday.

He grabbed a plate from the counter and loaded it with four slices of pizza before moving to the fruit counter to grab some watermelon. Once he was finished, he noticed that his favorite booth in the back corner of the dining hall was free, prompting him to maneuver his way towards it. He carefully placed his plates on the table and threw his backpack in the other side of the booth before realizing he was missing a nice, cold beverage to accompany his lunch.

He made his way to the drink counter which was only a couple feet away, filling two plastic cups with soda so he didn’t have to get up and get more later. Once finished, he made way toward his booth, the music in his ears keeping him walking at a steady beat, but also prompting him to do another victory spin.

However, his twirl unfortunately did not come to completion because he felt the sudden collision of his hands against another object. Despite the heavy base rippling through his ear canal, he heard the spine-chilling shriek erupting from the human body directly in front of him; the contents of both his glasses inappropriately bathing the front of her blouse. He quickly popped out the ear buds form his ears, a flurry of apologies falling from his lips--some coherent and some barely even a language.

He looked down at the ruined white blouse before him in dismay. The palms of the soda soaked girl were turned upward as if she had absolutely no idea how to move on from this situation that could have been avoided. And the longer she stood in front of Doyoung, the quicker the liquid spread across her blouse, finding a comfortable fiber to soak into all while revealing a baby blue lace tank top underneath that clung to the curvature of her bosom. To make matters worse, the liquid had trickled down the front of her skirt and down her legs, causing Doyoung to give her an unintentional once over. Once his eyes returned upward, she served him expressions of both shock and lividness to say the least.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you-“ He said quickly setting down his now empty glasses in order to grab napkins to help her. With a bit too much force, she yanked the napkins from his hands and began aggressively patting her chest. He felt bad. But not bad enough to dampen his post test high. Ain’t nobody would be fucking with his post test high. “I can go ask for a towel-“

“Ew. A dirty dishrag? Don’t worry about it. I live in the dorm next door. But watch where you’re twirling next time, you fake ass ballerina.” The girl abruptly threw her damp napkins on the table, her neck tinged with a rosy shade from anger and embarrassment before quickly scurrying away.

Doyoung hung his head low and turned back to his table picking up the wet napkins in disgust, as she had thrown them on his Friday pizza and watermelon.  It was an accident for goodness sake, but she didn’t have to be so rude about it either, Doyoung thought. He tried to apologize! And that was one of the reasons why he kept to himself most times and disliked significant amounts of human interaction. Someone was always bound to piss him off.

"If you're just going to sit there and mean mug your plate, then why not give me what's on it.”

Speaking of someone always pissing him off, Doyoung looked up from the table as he was pulled away from glaring at his pizza by the voice of the ultimate pain in the ass of his life: Nakamoto Yuta.

“Shake it off, bro. A little wet pepperoni never killed anybody,” said Yuta has he grabbed a slice of pizza from Doyoung’s plate and shook it from side to side before sitting across from him. Yuta was one of Doyoung’s few close friends and the use of the word “friend” to describe Yuta was oftentimes inaccurate.

Continuing to munch on Doyoung’s pizza, he chuckled. “I saw what happened, dude. Smooth move! When I suggested you should get a girl wet after midterms I didn’t mean like that.” Yuta was the last person Doyoung wanted to see his blunder with the opposite sex. Whenever hilarious, embarrassing, or social status dampening events occurred, Yuta was like the appointed historian to always make people remember times they wished hadn’t even occurred.

Doyoung sent Yuta a death glare but it only resulted in more loud chuckling from his friend. It really was times like these that Doyoung questioned why he had continued to keep Yuta around after entering university. He didn’t take his studies seriously like Doyoung, despite being at the university on a soccer scholarship where he needed to keep his marks up. He also had proved to be unreliable, as on countless occasions he flaked on hanging out because he said he “needed to give thanks to mother nature for the cosmic gift she had bestowed upon man in the form of female orgasms” through numerous trysts with the university’s cheerleaders. One would assume that someone who only wanted to climb the social ladder, attend the best college parties, and drink until he was ass-backwards or passed out (if it was the off season) would have already left a hardworking nerd, who desperately wanted to become an engineer. Alas...he didn’t. The two of them were like night and day, yet they just couldn’t be one without the other.

Despite being a huge nuisance to his nerves, Yuta did however possess the minimal characteristics of what Doyoung would qualify the use of the “friend” title. Sometimes. He was an asshole but he was an asshole that looked out for Doyoung and was always there to lend a helping hand, albeit it oftentimes led to more harm than good whenever Yuta inserted himself in a situation. But his intentions were in the right place and the situations would eventually work themselves out. All in all, there was some use to keeping Yuta around. And it wasn't all one big headache. They had fun a lot of the time, too.

Defeated, Doyoung picked up one of his slices that hadn’t been tormented by the wet paper. “Why are you here, Yuta? Shouldn’t you still be in a midterm or something?”

Yuta sighed. “I just finished up, actually. It was an oral final, but it didn’t last that long.” He shrugged his shoulders with disinterest.

“You waited until the last minute to come up with what you were going to say, didn’t you?” questioned Doyoung innocently wiping some pizza sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Yuta cocked his head to the side and looked at Doyoung somewhat disappointedly. “No, no. I went prepared. I could have tongued a few more sentences if she would have let me. But she grabbed the back of my hair too roughly, and then she came all over my tongue, but was too stimulated to con-“

Doyoung choked for obvious reason. “Yuta!” He reached for one of his glasses only to realize it was empty and quickly remembered the accident with the girl that had happened a few minutes prior.

“What?” asked Yuta nonchalantly.

“I’m eating! And it’s pizza day!” He was accustomed to his friend being lewd at all hours of the day and normally it wouldn't phase him, but he had been caught off guard this time.

“And I got an A! What’s the problem?!” Yuta reached in his backpack for his water bottle and tossed it towards Doyoung who was still coughing over loose pizza crust.

Taking a long ass swig, Doyoung gave Yuta a pointed look before harshly whispering. “You had relations with your professor?! Do you know how much trouble you would be in with the university if anyone found out? Not to mention you would probably get kicked off the team and consequently kicked out of school!”

Yuta did a dramatic neck and eye roll at his friend across the table. “Sometimes...I want to twist the stick that’s shoved so far up your ass and make you mellow out.”

“You and everyone else,” muttered Doyoung as he stared incredulously at the idiot.

“I’m in college, dude,” continued Yuta. “I’m allowed to fuck up.  And if you must know I did do my presentation in class and earned my A the right way. I just…had more things to say that wasn’t able to fit within the time limit. And I had already requested an appointment for office hours beforehand and this chemistry had been brewing between us since the beginning of the semester. So one thing led to another and--“

“Yuta, fuck off,” said Doyoung, his tolerance wearing thin. “Between you and that girl I just ran into, the both of you have tried my patience today. I aced all my midterms and I just want to be left alone to recuperate.”

“Now you know how I feel having a friend that only wants to study all day! You’re always so serious. Once we graduate you will regret not having as much or more fun as I’m having. You need to loosen your tie, Doyoung, and liiiive~. The books will always be there but your youth won’t. Get this pussy now and get the money later!"

Now it was Doyoung's turn to cock his head to the side as he absentmindedly forked his watermelon. “Do you ever think about what you say before you say it, Yuta? Do you ever realize what kind of idiotic logic you’re spewing?”

“It’s not idiotic. It’s fact. Now moving on to the real reason I interrupted your lonely ass pizza day.” He shoved a neon green flyer adorned with terrible font towards Doyoung’s side of the table. “I’m throwing my first official party tonight at the frat house. You had been ignoring my texts all week because you were studying or whatever it is you do when you read a book and make flashcards. So now I’m reminding you in the flesh. I’m treating this party as if it is my first kid. If it’s successful, I know I can bang out a few more. So I need you to come out and support me like the true friend I know that you are.” Yuta batted his eyelashes at Doyoung who merely pushed his plate away, his appetite clearly vanishing.

“Yuta, I hate parties and all that encompasses them. And as a true friend you would already know this.” He slid the flyer back towards Yuta and reached for his backpack.

“Doyoung, please. You haven’t been to a party in the three years that we’ve been here and you literally have nothing exciting planned for tonight, and I know because you're you and you never really do anything besides…doing nothing.”

Doyoung scoffed and stood up, partly because he was annoyed and partly because Yuta was correct with his assumption. He was indeed going home to do nothing exciting in particular, but at least he wouldn’t be surrounded by wasted young adults who just wanted to fuck each other and adults that couldn’t take the hint and graduate already because they were scared of adult responsibilities.

“C’mon, dude!” Yuta stood up to stand eye level with his basic ass friend. “I really need you to be there.”

“Why?”

Yuta ran his hands down his face before calmly placing his hands on his hips. “The only way I can strip this one girl and bathe in her cosmic essence—with her permission of course—is if you come to the party and…y’know, hang out with her friend. Who, by the way, thinks you’re really attractive for some reason. I think she likes the way your tie is tightly wound around your neck like it’s choking you, but you find a way to sexily breathe through it. And that any minute you’ll rip it off and bind her wrists or blindfold her or some shit. I don't know. Girls are weird. But she likes you, man! She just wants to make sure your stuck up façade and actual personality aren’t synonymous. And if you don’t hit it off with her, there will be plenty of other girls you can-- ”

“No, Yuta. I will not babysit your potential fuck’s bestie so she can relieve her kinky fantasies and gossip to her friends saying, ‘Girls, he may look like a cute little bunny, but he fucks like a wild tiger that was just begging to be tamed.’” Yuta scrunched up his nose at the high pitched voice Doyoung put on to mimic a girl, and also because he had a hard time comprehending why Doyoung would compare himself to a giant jungle cat in bed. “Nor will I accidentally wind up in some room with some cute girl only to find out she was using me to make her jock boyfriend jealous.”

“DUDE, THAT WAS FIVE YEARS AGO IN HIGH SCHOOL!” Yuta exclaimed, exasperated that his friend was still bitter after all this time. “You gotta let that shit go! I told you not to go upstairs with her. And we need to revisit how you think you’re good in bed when you’ve only slept with like, one person.”

“No, Yuta. Leave me alone. Have fun at your party.” Doyoung curtly walked off and left Yuta standing there at the booth with his flyer crumpled angrily in his fist.

I’m not that stuck up, am I?, thought Doyoung as he left his friend in the dining hall. But he shrugged away the notion and continued to walk toward his apartment.

~~~

The cacophonous soundtrack that played on Doyoung’s laptop signaled yet another end credit scene for one of his favorite tv shows that he promised he would binge after midterms. More like the show was watching him as Doyoung had long casted aside his laptop and curled into the fetal position, sleep having grabbed him no more than ten minutes after he had returned to his apartment. His roommate, Winwin, hadn’t been home, serving as the perfect time to just relax alone.

The only thing that had managed to break him from his snooze cruise was the blatant disrespect of his cell phone ringing obnoxiously loud next to his ear. He quickly stirred and sat up looking at his phone in disgust as the words YUTA YUTA YUTA flashed across the screen. He begrudgingly answered deciding to be rude and not even say hello.

“Hello? Hello?” Asked Yuta whose voice was a bit drowned out thanks to the blaring EDM in the background. “Doyoung?!”

“Yuta! I didn’t change my mind about coming to the party!” Yelled Doyoung because he was pissed off and cranky.

“I know! But Winwin, ugh! Some clown from that BBX frat dared Winwin to keg stand and now your poor roommate is drunk off his mother fucking rocker! I told him not to do it, but he acted like he had something to prove and now he’s shitfaced, dude.”

Doyoung slapped his face and dragged his hand downward. “So, what are you asking me, Yuta? You’re his friend too and more than capable of-”

“Oh, shit! Winwin, that’s fucking disgusting!” Cried Yuta and interrupting Doyoung. “Quick, Kun, let’s take him to the bathroom. Here, Lucas. Talk to Doyoung.”

Doyoung heard the rustling of the phone being passed around through the receiver before a gruff voice spoke. “Hey, man! I’m sad you’re not here but I shall pour you one in your honor...and then not drink it because Taeyong won’t let me.”

“Thanks, Lucas. And you’re under the legal age to drink anyway.”

“Yeah but, I wanna keg stand, too!”

The thought of lil’ baby Lucas acting a fool and puking his brains out like the rest of his friends moved Doyoung enough to decide and go save his roommate. “It’s not worth it, dude. Tell Yuta I’m on my way.” He jumped from his bed and grabbed his keys before heading to the EXT frat house.

The walk to the frat house from his apartment was about eight minutes and twenty seconds. A time Doyoung remembered from several nightly trips when Yuta actually had time for guys night or when he needed to be saved from a girl he decided he didn’t want to sleep with after sobering up. Doyoung was always his scapegoat.

Upon arriving at the frat house, Doyoung immediately noticed all the loitering bodies of drunk college kids on the front lawn. He had to maneuver through the small sea of plastic red cups and beer bottles littered across the walkway before stopping abruptly as some guy flew across the cobblestone pavement and ran into the plastic flamingo on the lawn. “DUDEEE THAT NOSEDIVE WAS SICKK!” was heard causing Doyoung to roll his eyes and quickly make his way into the frat house. The sooner he retrieved Winwin, the faster he’d return home and relax. Well, not really. Not if he had to babysit Winwin all night and make sure he didn’t swallow his vomit and choke.

Doyoung entered the frat house and immediately noticed Lucas standing across in the foyer. He wasn’t hard to miss as he was the tallest human standing in the area with all the other new frat recruits who were tiny compared to him.

Doyoung sauntered over to Lucas who gave him a big hug causing the other recruits to disperse. Although Doyoung wasn’t in the frat, Yuta knighted him an honorary member, meaning no one was allowed to mess with him, yet was allowed to give him special treatment. “Bro, you made it!”

Doyoung’s face morphed into a grimace after telling Lucas he had come to get Winwin. He began to ask what bathroom in that giant frat house had Yuta dragged him to but was cut off when two tall, beautiful young ladies interrupted their conversation.

“Hey, stud? What’s your name?” Asked one of the girls, one Doyoung recognized as being the star junior of the girl’s soccer team.

Lucas quickly looked toward Doyoung as if he needed confirmation of what his name was before turning back to the girls and blushing. “I’m 20.”

Doyoung immediately hung his head low and scratched his eyebrow, rapidly giving up on humanity. He didn’t have time for this awkward shit. He had come here for one reason and one reason only, and now he felt precious time slipping away from him as he stood there fooling around with Lucas. “They asked for your name…”

“Oh, uhh. Sorry.” Said the giant baby clearing his throat. “Lucas. My name is Lucas.”

“Aw, you’re so cute and funny.” Both girls closed the space between themselves and Lucas, causing Doyoung to roll is eyes and become even more annoyed. Like, hellloooo? Were they too entranced by Lucas’ pretty face to not see him standing there having a conversation with somebody?

“Let’s go somewhere and chat for a bit?” suggested the other girl.

Lucas laughed again before his “how to be a fuccboi manual by Yuta, illustrated by Taeyong” kicked in, causing his cute smile to quickly change into a sexy smolder. His voice dropped a couple of octaves lower, which Doyoung didn’t even think was possible. “How about I meet you guys out back on the patio? I have to show my loser friend here something first.” His comment made Doyoung roll his lips into a straight line in aggravation. He knew Lucas had only said that to seem as cool as he thought he was. It was classic textbook Yuta.

“He can come, too,” said the girl eyeing Doyoung up and down. “I like them stoicc.” The annunciation she put on the last syllable was hella thicc.

“I’m sorry, ladies I’m flattered, but I'm really not interested. I have more pressing matters to attend to. Lucas. Winwin, please,” Doyoung demanded to Lucas sternly.

The girls were taken aback by the unintended harshness of Doyoung’s tone and Lucas made up for it by kindly reminding them he’d meet them soon. He lead Doyoung to one of the corridors on the other side of the frat house. There were even more bodies in this area as the pool table and other assorted games were being drunkenly utilized.

As they approached some party goers playing darts and dodging the projectiles as to not be impaled by one, Doyoung heard Yuta’s thunderous guffaw before he even saw him. Brushing past Lucas while channeling on the cackle, Doyoung spotted Yuta and grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. Before he could speak, his attention was drawn to Winwin sitting on the couch across from him, his clothes in perfect place, hair nice, and not a sign of having emptied out his entire digestive system through his mouth. If anything, he would say his roommate was simply a little buzzed. Winwin noticed him staring incredulously and gave him a sheepish smile and a wave. Doyoung was livid.

“Oh, hey~, Doyoung!” A beer in his hand, Yuta stuck his neck out to look around at his perturbed friend and pointed an accusatory finger at Lucas. “Dammit, you! You were supposed to text me when he got here!”

“Sorry, I got distracted! But I’ll be in the backyard if you need me! Bye!” rushed Lucas ready to run off to his rendezvous but was called back by Yuta.

“Oh, bro! You got distracted by some hot girls, huh?!” The knowing grin on Yuta’s face grew twice its size when Lucas nodded in affirmation. “MAH, MAN!” He went in for a high five with the taller young man, but Doyoung blocked them from coming in contact with one another by violently slapping their arms down.

“Enough! ”After using eight minutes and twenty seconds of his precious life to walk over to that frat house for what had now made itself clear as complete bullshit, Doyoung needed to get something off his chest. “Yuta. Can I speak with you in priv--” he began, but he was cut off for the second time that night.

“No, man! No more talking!” Yuta grabbed two bottles of beer from the cooler near his feet and popped them open, the noise agitating Doyoung closer to the point of no return, and shoved both bottles in his hands. “So, Winwin isn’t shitfaced and I lied. You walked into that trap on your own.”

“Yeah, and Doyoung’s the smart one,” cackled Johnny, another one of his so-called friends. He was clearly drunk, so Doyoung spared him from a possible verbal beatdown.

“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters!” continued Yuta. “There’s unlimited drinks and unlimited girls--except this one. She’s mine.” He slithered his arm around the waist of his Friday date (who had a bigger bosom than last Tuesday’s date), who Doyoung assumed was the one who’s friend wanted some facetime with him.

Upon that realization, the gears in his brain quickly switched over to escape mode. His eyes quickly glanced around the room in a small panic that he immediately realized was futile considering he had no idea what the girl looked like. Now with the sudden shift of his objective, Doyoung's top priority was to get out of there before whoever she was entered within a ten foot radius of his person.

“So, go crazy and have some fun! I’m really glad that you’re here, dude.” Yuta raised his beer up, a sly and cheeky grin plastered on his visage that Doyoung desperately wanted to punch. “To Doyoung!”

The people around responded in unison as Yuta clanked his bottle with Doyoung’s, who simply stood there in a silent rage. The aspirated sounds of quenched thirsts emanating from everyone’s throats prompted Doyoung to turn on his heels and walk out the game area. Not only did Yuta forcibly drag him to participate in an event he was clearly against from the moment the flyer was shoved in his face, he used his roommate Winwin as bait. He made a mental note to not invite Winwin shopping the next time their apartment needed groceries as payback. He then made another mental note that he was trying to punish his roommate who wouldn’t ever hurt a fly, and that wasn't something he thought he was capable of doing (purposely passive aggressively hurting Winwin, that is), which caused him to make yet another note that Yuta needed to be unfriended.

“He really likes screwing with me. He should stop harping about being my friend if he can’t under-” Doyoung’s mutterings were cut short when he felt a familiar pillowy thud hit against the back of his palm causing both bottles of beer to fly upwards before shattering on the floor. Tuning out the people around him yelling that he had just committed a party foul, his instincts immediately prepared his lips for a second set of apologizes that day as he looked to see who he had run into. Upon realization, his mouth fell open in surprise and he soon felt the front of his blazer soaking with beer.

“Why does this keep happening to me?!” She screamed. Her palms faced upwards, stuck like they were earlier in the dining hall and her expression was just as dumbfounded. “This is the second time today. First it was the fake ass ballerina and now-” She lifted your head and scoffed in absolute disbelief and possibly even a hint of disdain. “Still the fake ass ballerina. I knew I shouldn't have come here tonight. Ugh! Do you have absolutely noth--HEY! Where are you going, asshole?!”

A little ticked off by her attitude, Doyoung held up a finger signaling her to wait and silently brushed past her to head towards the conveniently nearby supply closet. Despite not even being a member of the frat, this wasn’t the first time Doyoung had to fetch the broom and dustpan from this particular room. He had Yuta to thank for that incident as well.

When he returned to the girl, her body was still tense although she had lowered her hands to pull her soaked halter top away from the front side of her body. Her face was adorned with complete discomfort, however she stepped aside as she watched Doyoung sweep the shards of glass and scoop them up with the dustpan.

He stood in front of her and gazed at her pitiful form in exasperation. He took a deep breath before saying what he had to say. It took a lot of strength for him not to go completely off on an innocent bystander who unfortunately kept getting in his way.

“I’m sorry. Once again, I truly am sorry,” he stressed. “I was lost in my train of thought because of my dumbass friends. Because I, too, do not want to be here. I’m sorry I ruined your outfit again. Although it really isn’t appropriate for this weather, by the way. Especially now that your clothes are wet. But still, I am sorry.” He chucked the shards of glass into the also conveniently nearby trash bin before bending back down to pick up the last pieces.

The girl narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side in agitation. “Okay, but your apologies can’t magically dry the front of my shirt and shorts, and remove the awful stench of cheap ass beer. I look like I fucking pissed on myself upwards!” She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but she would risk getting them sticky.

“That’s impossible,” said Doyoung matter of factly. Standing up again, he looked at her now as if she were incompetent before emptying more glass into the trash bin.

“DUDE, REALLLY?! Is that really what’s on your mind right now? The physical impossibility of me being able to pee upwards is what you’re worried about?!” Frustrated with her current situation, and apparently the world given her actions and word choice since the beginning of the day, she rubbed her hands against her face and slowly slid down the wall behind her.

Now, Doyung was a nice dude. Ladies--even ones outside of his family--found him to be a real gentleman...if you caught him on a good day. He could have very well informed the girl that the ground was still very much wet, but today wasn’t a very good day. Not anymore, at least. So, he didn’t. Instead he watched her slowly sink to her demise, the liquid quickly seeping into her shorts. Any moment now...3...2...1. “AW, FUCK! THE GROUND IS STILL WET! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

He returned the broom and the dustpan to the closet before addressing her question. “I didn’t feel like mopping.” He stated without any remorse. Her eyes almost bulged out her sockets at his response, so he immediately backtracked realizing he didn't mean to be that big of a dick. He wasn’t really a dick at all, actually. “Because I didn’t think you’d hear me over your incessant yelling--” Okay, maybe he was a dick.

“I’m not yelling. This is how I talk.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “Now my ass is wet. And I reek of beer. I don’t even drink! Never even touched the stuff! This has been the worst day of my life. But I can’t leave because I promised to be a designated driver. And if I leave, what if I get stopped by the police?! ARE THEY GONNA BELIEVE THAT I’M SOBER?! I should be at home studying!” She threw her head against the wall and winced at the hard impact she didn't mean to make with it.

Doyoung’s feet made to leave, but his moral compass pointed towards the girl when the word “studying” tumbled from her lips. It was as if she had calmed some of his anger knowing she could be potentially studious as he was. He also sympathized with her on the fact that he too had been roped into being a designated driver countless times. Although, he never attended the parties. He would only show up when he thought his friends had had enough and throw them all into the backseat. Upon rethinking the situation, he made a decision to help the girl and bent down, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.

“W-what are you doing?” The girl was a little shocked to say the least. His attitude had done a surprising 90 degrees. He was being gentlemanly, yes, but it was not a complete turn around. He was still tense, just not as much.

“Follow me.” He commenced to walk her hand in tow, but his pace was hindered by her hesitance.

“Where are we going?”

“To get you out of these wet clothes.” But before she could take it the wrong way and retort, he stopped walking and clarified. “Not like that. My asshole friends are inhabitants of this frat house. My clothes are damp as well and like you, I hate the feeling of wet clothing on my skin. We can grab a change of clothes and then we both can go our separate ways. Cool?”

Visibly relaxing after his explanation, she mulled it over, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she weighed the possible outcomes. “Fine. Lead the way.”

He lead her upstairs towards Yuta’s room, flicking the light upon entering the masculinely decorated room. He silently thanked his friend for not being a slob this weekend and not waiting forever to launder his soccer practice clothing that he usually just left on the floor to rot.

“Wait here,” said Doyoung dropping her hand. He quickly moved across the room towards Yuta’s black dresser, opening the first drawer a bit rougher than he intended and caused Yuta’s collection of bobbleheads to, well, bobble. The drawer contained an assortment of socks and underwear neither of which Doyoung needed, so he proceeded to the next row of drawers which contained athletic shorts and shirts.

He heard something ruffle against Yuta’s bed so he assumed it was the girl, his newfound companion who didn’t understand simple instructions of “wait here”. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance, only to reopen his eyes and catch her form in the mirror. She apparently wasn't shy and wasted no time shedding off her sticky shirt. She discarded the wet material on the floor beside her feet and let out a deep sigh. Doyoung relaxed and continued to stand there admiring her reflected figure from behind. His eyes trailed from the top of her head to the strap of her baby blue bralette haphazardly falling down her shoulder, then to her lace trimmed jean shorts that had turned a darker hue (primarily on the curvature of her booty cheeks), which was entirely his fault. And in that moment, he could honestly say he was glad he didn’t tell her about the wet floor.

The motion of her reaching for her bra strap shook him from his reverie and he proceeded to grab two shirts and two shorts from the drawer. With his head hung low and eyes only focusing on the clothes, he turned around and extended a pair of clothes towards her. When she didn’t accept them, he noticed she was no longer standing there. “Hey. Where’d you go?”

He did a complete 180 degree turn and found her standing on the other side of Yuta’s room near his large armoire. “Oh. You move very quietly...umm I have dry cloth--NO DON’T OPEN THAT!”

His cry was too late as the girl had already opened the doors of the armoire and was already being showered with several boxes of condoms that had collapsed from the overstuffed piece of furniture. Before he could move to help her subdued form, he heard the door to Yuta’s room close shut and lock. He ran towards the wooden door and pounded on it, yelling in anger that his attempts to open the door from the inside were futile. “Hey! Open up!”

“No!” Screamed the terrible voice on the other side.

Doyoung dropped his hands from the doorknob knowing full well that no matter how much he retaliated he was not going to leave the room anytime soon. “Yuta...you asshole. Let us out. Right now. Open the damn door!” Doyoung’s chest ferociously rose and fell as his mind shrouded with rage.

“No, Dodo. I will not open the door. If you don’t want to mingle with us rowdy college kids, then mingle with the half naked girl you got in the room with you! Bye!” Doyoung heard footsteps and snickers trail away down the hallway.

He leaned his head on the door before remembering the ladder Yuta used to sneak in and out the frat house after hours. He ran towards the window and lifted it up happy to see the ladder right where he remembered it would be.

“What is going on?” the girl asked as she massaged her temples and continued to lay under the boxes of condoms.

“I’m going to get us out of here.” He kicked some boxes out of his way and grabbed her hand to pull her to her feet. So far their relationship with one another consisted of repeated actions and events. It was so unromantic it was lowkey romantic.

He gave her the set of clothes and motioned toward the closet and told her to quickly change. He discarded his blazer, shirt, and pants before sliding on the fresh pair of shorts. While deciding he could make do without taking off his tank top and tie he heard scraping outside against the wall.

“No, no, no.” He looked out the window only to find a drunk Johnny and Jaehyun trying to confiscate the ladder from the wall. “Stop!” He latched onto the ladder and tightened his grip as the pair pulled from the opposite end. Two against one was proving to be difficult as Doyoung’s waist was starting to go past the window sill, but he tried to maintain his grip as best as he could, hoping the drunks would give up soon.

“Hey these shorts have--OMG!” The girl had come out of the closet only to have to quickly run to the window and grab Doyoung’s waist so he wouldn’t fall forward and out the window. “Let go of the ladder! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO!”

“NO!”

“It’s not worth it!” She tugged him back harshly causing his grip to release from the ladder.

“Have fun Doyoung!” Yelled Johnny and Jaehyun as they hauled off with the ladder, laughing as they went.

“This is bullshit!” He closed the window and threw the dry T-shirt on the floor before he started pacing back and forth in the room. “That was our only way out! We’re going to be stuck here until Yuta decides he’s done playing this little game of his!”

The girl shifted and crossed her arms before speaking, “You have the biggest--“

“STICK UP MY ASS! YES, I KNOW.” He took a deep breath a little sorry she kept getting mixed up in all his shit. “I’m sorry—“

“Stop saying you’re sorry. It’s starting to sound weird coming from you.“ She placed her hand over your mouth to smother a laugh. “And that wasn't what I was going to say.”

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows and looked at her, only now noticing her bare legs peeking from under the hem of Yuta’s oversized T-shirt. Her baby blue undergarments showing underneath. “What is it?”

She picked up the shorts she had been given earlier. “I can’t wear these.” She handed them to Doyoung and stepped backwards meekly, trying to hold in her giggles.

“Why are you laughing?” He opened the shorts and noticed the big ass cut out hole on the crotch area before flinging them to the ground.  “Dammit, Yuta! I didn’t know--“ He looked down at the shorts he had changed into and noticed the giant whole in the middle of his crotch, showcasing his Scooby Doo boxers. He looked up and saw the girl keel over on Yuta’s bed in laughter. And despite the outrageous situation, he relished in defeat and succumbed to laughter himself.

Once the girl had adequate use of her lungs to breathe again she said, “I didn’t peg you for a cartoon guy. Your face screams you enjoy the five o’clock news and peer reviewed journals.”

He rolled his eyes and sat on Yuta’s bed as well as wiping the tears that had accumulated in his eyes. “They’re my lucky exam boxers.”

“So you wear them three times a week?”

“The stench holds the knowledge.”

“Gross! Guys are so weird,” she said before locating Yuta’s crotchless shorts from before and chucking them at him.

“No. Not all of us. I never liked that group assumption. Why do girls group all guys together? Some of us are cool!”

“You...cool?” He watched as she stood up from her kneeling position and removed his wet blazer and shorts from the floor before finding her own wet clothes. She went towards the closet and hung the clothes to dry. Doyoung watched her intently, his eyes admiring her backside once again. “You’ve been in a mood since we first bumped into each other. That’s not cool.”

“It’s the circumstance. I’m usually a nice guy. I just...today wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. I was supposed to finish my physics midterm, enjoy Pizza Friday, and then relax at home. Midterms were hard this semester. I deserved the break. I didn’t want to get dragged to a party and get stuck--“

“In here with me?” She walked across the room toward the several boxes of condoms still littered across the floor.

“I didn’t mean--“

“It’s okay. I didn’t think my day would end up like this either.” She bent down and absentmindedly picked up a half full box of condoms. “We can just sit here quietly and not talk to one another until Yuta let’s us out. Or we can talk about why Yuta has an armoire full of condoms that nearly ended my life.”

“Despite Yuta’s assholelery, he’s a big activist for safe sex. He lives with all these young and horny guys so he has to look out for their well-being. Whenever they need protection or stupid advice Yuta is who they run to. Plus, a frat with a reputation for STDs would be bad publicity.”

“Interesting,” she said simply. Doyoung watched curiously as she dug inside the box and pulled out a foil packet that she then proceeded to open with her teeth. “But how’d he get all of these boxes? He went on a condom shopping spree?” She blew air through the condom and tied a knot at the end before neatly placing it on the nearby desk.

“No.” Doyoung watched her tear open another packet and wanted to advise her that opening it that way could puncture and render its contents ineffective, but he stopped himself when he realized what she was up to. “Spring Break contest sophomore year. He had to lick whip cream off a girl’s body and eat a cherry out of her mouth within a time limit at a resort we went to. He won first place, which included a lifetime supply of condoms and 5000 dollars cash.”

“Wow.” She deadpanned.

Doyoung reached for a packet in the box she was holding and began blowing one up like she did earlier. He carefully placed his condom balloon in Yuta’s pencil holder, making sure it didn’t pop. “By the way, my name is Doyoung.” He extended his hand towards his fellow prisoner while reaching for another packet with the other. She stopped blowing her latex balloon to shake his hand. She told him her name in return.

~~~

After going through about four boxes with twelve packets each, both she and Doyoung had run out of air. He was still on a devious power high from semi-trashing Yuta’s room, so he was glad when she agreed to his suggestion of filling the condoms with water. After going through a box of thirty-two, the two of them finally decided to call it quits. Yuta’s drawers, closet, backpack, shelf, bathroom just about every surface of his room was covered in an assortment of either air or water filled latex balloons in various colors, shapes, sizes, and texture. It was a condom carnival.

She was reclined on Yuta’s bed, Doyoung having found her a blanket to cover herself with as Yuta’s questionable fashion sense was out of the question. “So why do you continue to hang out with him if he’s so troublesome?” she asked.

Doyoung took a moment to answer. “Because he’s the complete opposite of me. He’s the fun one and I’m…the not fun one.” Doyoung lowered his chin atop the desk chair he was sitting backwards on.

“Well, I think you’re sort of fun. I’ve only known you for…an hour and twenty-five minutes? Plus the five minutes in the dining hall this afternoon makes it an hour and thirty minutes?”

He laughed. “Thanks? You’re pretty cool, too. I wouldn’t have done this interior decorating we did otherwise. I mean I would have, but it wouldn’t have been as fun.”

“I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. You’re always so focused in class I figured you would be pretentious and stuck up. Plus, you wear a blazer and tie everyday.”

Doyoung’s face fell at her words. “We have a class together?” He chose to ignore the latter part of her comment.

Her cheeks took on yet another red hue that day as she gripped the blanket tighter in embarrassment. “Uh…no not exactly?”

Doyoung clearly heard the inflection on her last word. “Well then how?“

“I’m not a stalker!” she suddenly blurted.

“I didn’t say--“

“Your physics class is across the hall from my physics class at the same time on the same days. You sit down in the front near the door, and I sit towards the top in my classroom, but I can still see you through the doorway. You’re directly in my line of sight.”

“Yeah, that’s a stalker alright,” joked Doyoung. “What physics are you in? Did you pass your midterms?”

She was a little embarrassed to answer that. “I’m in general physics for pre-medical students. I made a 64. That’s a D. I might as well withdraw from the course at this point. I don’t think I can save my grade.”

“Well, that makes sense...Oh!” Doyoung snapped his fingers, something suddenly returning to his memory. “You’re that girl that eats candy and texts the whole class period. You own a light grey sweater that you wear every time the air conditioner kicks on.”

“You noticed me?”

“Yeah. You’re in my line of sight, too. I mean I’ve never seen you up close, that’s why I didn’t immediately recognize you from our run-ins today. But in case you didn't know, your behavior is why you failed your exam. If you ask me, I think you deserved an F rather than a D. And judging by all the candy you eat, I’m surprised you even have teeth--“

Without thinking, she grabbed the water filled condom from the nightstand and chucked it at Doyoung, which burst all over his face and white tank top. He looked shocked and blinked slowly as the water trickled down the desk chair. Before either of them realized what was happening, Doyoung was standing over her popping a balloon on top of her head, dousing her with cold water.

And thus, the war began.

After several back and forths of overhand throws and running around the room, there were now less condom balloons, severely wet furniture, and two soaking wet human bodies.

“Yuta is going to be so pissed,” she said looking around the room.

“He’ll survive.” Doyoung grabbed the blanket from the bed and moved to dry her off but she dodged, considering the wet t-shirt was cooling her skin from her sudden rise in body temperature. The impromptu physical activity, closeness and contact between the two of them, and the way their wet clothes clung to each of their bodies, and outlining every detail of their figures were to blame.

Doyoung dropped the blanket only to catch her furiously fiddling with the oversized wet shirt. “There’s no point,” she muttered. “You won’t be able to get every part of me that’s wet, so why bother?” He watched as she looked to the side at nothing in particular, her fourth time in one day garnering that rosy hue of embarrassment. He was starting to find it rather cute. However, while her expression dictated she couldn’t believe she had said that aloud, his dictated the internal struggle he currently faced with her words bouncing around in his head, immediately causing his lower head to fight against the tight restriction of the wet material clinging to his skin.

Doyoung was very intelligent. However, it didn’t take his stellar 4.0 GPA to know that Yuta’s diabolical plan since the beginning of the afternoon was finally starting to make progress. And one thing he hated was when people, well namely Yuta, got away with their evil plans. So he quickly turned away from her and walked toward the bathroom, closing it shut behind him. He laid his forehead on the door and took a deep breath. Cold water, he thought. Buddy you have to go down. Wait, I’m already soaking wet with cold water. Function, brain! He moved toward the shower anyway when he heard her lightly tap on the door.

“Doyoung? I’m sorry if what I said was inappropriate. What drawer are the clothes in?” Doyoung simply looked at the door and didn’t respond. “Doyoung?” After three more repeats of his name she let it go with a heavy sigh and went to find the drawer herself.

Doyoung felt bad for ignoring her so he peeped his head out the bathroom only to find the wet T-shirt discarded. She was standing in only her bralette and panties this time, the garments perfectly outlining the shape of her assets. He couldn’t help the choking noise that was caught in his throat, causing her to spin around in surprise.

Both their eyes grew wide like two horny teenagers who accidentally saw the half naked body of the opposite sex for the first time.

“I found the drawer and--”

Legend has it Doyoung lost control of his body as he walked from behind the door and into the room. The tent residing on his lower half at full attention and on display for her enjoyment.

He locked his eyes with hers. “After three years of pent up sexual frustration, my prefrontal cortex has decided to shut off and allow my glans and shaft to think for itself. Hence the situation I have in my boxers.” He motioned a hand downwards and she couldn't help her eyes from quickly darting to and from the area. “Now, I’m not one of those dudes like you see running around this frat house that needs to bang girls everyday. My education comes first. Speaking of coming,” her eyes slightly widened at the abrupt segway, “I haven’t done so with another person since high school, which was with my ex-girlfriend who later cheated on me with a football player. Therefore, I’m super clean with minimal, yet enough experience.

“Okay, Yuta is a horrible best friend, but I have to give him props because without him I wouldn’t be in this current situation. I was awarded a full scholarship to this school for my academic achievement, so I’m smart enough to know that there’s a 99% chance of the both of us leaving this room after pleasuring one another.” There wasn't even a chance for her mouth to fall open as he kept on speaking. “If not, I would have killed this boner in the bathroom and you would not be standing here with me looking this damn sexy in your...fuck!” He urgently ran a hand through his hair as sweat started to accumulate on his brow. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, we don’t have to do anything, and I’m not insinuating that you’re a girl that came to this party just to hook up with a guy. We can just continue to sit it out and wait to be rescued and then maybe I can show you what a pizza Friday should be and maybe help you bring your failing class average to a decent C+, maybe even B-. I don’t know. How’d your other tests go? Wait, who’s your profess--“

“Doyoung!” For a guy that looked like he had it together he sure let it all go in front of her. She stepped closer to him, her skin igniting as she did so. Whether the stars were aligned or not, admittance to paying attention to one another during class time was the first step of mutual chemistry. That and the evident arousals in both their underwear.

Doyoung’s breath hitched when she placed one hand over his chest and watched her carefully as she played with his wet tie with the other. “Fuck it,” she shrugged. “I’m all in. Me, mons pubis, and friends.”

Both of them had to stifle a laugh and then she tugged him closer by the accessory. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, his palms warm against the smooth skin of her cold back. He watched her eyes flicker from his lips back to his eyes as she bit the side of her bottom lip.

“Loosen your tie, Doyoung.”

And loosen his tie he did.

- C

[4llmywr1tings]

Knife Throwing Bad-ass

Characters/Pairings: Jensen X Reader, Jared, Kim, Briana Words: 1,386 Warnings: none A/N: you are a cast member in SPN Tagging: @autoblocked

“Alright guys. It’s Jensen Ackles, and I’m here with my amazing costar’s Jared Padalecki and the beautiful (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Wait, why am I last? This is my Facebook live.” You mutter, glaring at your fiancé.

“Well, I was saving best for last.” Jensen snickered as Jared gave the screen an eye roll.

“Let’s bicker later lovebirds. We come to you live with a purpose.” Jared grumbles.

“Yes, we do come to you with a greater purpose than the bickering Jack and I do to annoy Jared. This Thursday we are going to be hosting an awesome event, and watch the new episode with our greatest fans.” You giggle and push Jared with your shoulder, letting him wrap an arm around you. Being squashed in the middle of two of the hottest, and two of your favorite men was a miracle.

What had happened to you, that your life had turned out this way? You were one lucky girl.

“Correct. One big giant get together at the Cineplex at the Odeon International Village Cinemas. Doors open at five pm, and we’ve got the biggest theater in the whole Cineplex.” Jensen grabs your hand smiles to the camera.

“First 100 of y’all will get a meet and greet with us and Misha, and following the episode, you will get to hear us do a table read of some of our favorite scenes of season thirteen.” You roll your eyes. “Or how it usually goes on set with the three of those men.”

“Hey. We aren’t that bad.” Jensen says with feigned hurt.

“Yeah, I guess you aren’t too bad to look at.” Jared smirks.

“Oh wow, we are pretty good at getting off on a tangent. That will be the table read. This Thursday. Again, 5 PM doors open and we can’t wait to see you there.”

“Disclaimer, the theater seats two hundred. And they will turn away after the theater is full.”

“Yes, just tell them you’re here for the Supernatural event and they’ll tell you what to do.” You smile.

“So, until then. We’ll see all y’all at VanCon. We can’t wait to see you there guys!” Jared respond, waving to the camera.

With Jared’s long arms, he takes your phone and quickly ends the live feed and hands you the phone.

“I will post the video to twitter and instagram so you can repost it.” You smile. You kiss Jensen’s cheek as you stand. “Now let’s get this convention over with. I’m ready to have some sleep.”

“At Porncouver? Right.” Jared laughs. “Good luck with that.”

“Well, maybe I’ll take a nap while I get my tattoo. Remember Jense? We need to go soon.”

“Oh, right. Right. I’ll go around and get the car.”

“Please live stream that. I want to see Jensen be a big baby.”

“So supportive Jare. He’s just going with me. It’s a tattoo for my dad.”

“And that is how I talked him in to getting a tattoo with me.” Briana lets out a giggle as you finish your elaborate story.

It was one you had been meaning to get out as soon as possible. You’d rather tell the stories, than fans over analyze and get it all wrong.

You hadn’t gotten matching tattoos and there was no intention of doing that any time soon.

“Can we ask what you got?” The fan at the microphone asked. She had been patiently waiting for you to get through your tangent.

“Oh right, there was a question. Was that your question?”

The fan nods and smiles shyly. “It actually was going to be my question. What’s the meaning behind your tattoo?”

“It’s for my daddy.” You nod and clear your throat. “My dad is the hardest working man in the world, and I wanted to show some sort of support to him and all his hard work. Ya see, my dad all my life. He has been the biggest rock in my life. He worked two and three jobs sometimes to make sure me and my brother and sister had anything we needed. Growing up.”

“But where did the tool belt and hammer and nails come in?” Kim asked, lifting the sleeve to look at your fresh tattoo.

“My dad is in construction. My dad has been in construction since my little brother and sister were born, and it’s been a passion of his. I think almost all of the houses I’ve grown up in he built by his own two hands. I mean, he’s such a great guy. I love the man. He pushed me and my siblings to go on our own adventures and do our own things, whatever they may be. I ended up here.”

“Which we’re glad you’re here.” Kim puts her arm around your shoulder.

“We were always tight on money growing up, and now that I’ve got a steady income – I’m excited to be able to have the money to hire him to build himself his dream home.”

“My question is for Jensen.”

Jared gave his usual frown and fake – disdain upon the fans choosing Jensen over him.

“Always with the fake disdain. Continue please.”

“Well, I was just instagram stalking your girlfriend. And she just recently posted a tbt of you and her…”

“That’s a throwback. If you’re wondering…”

“I’m not old. Jeez.” He grumpily looks to Jared before turning back to the fan and rolling his eyes. “Continue sweetheart.”

“My question is about the sweaters. Who’s idea was it?”

“Well, she’ll claim it as her idea, but it isn’t really how that went.”

“It was actually his mom’s idea. I think that Donna has taken a liking to (Y/N) as much we did, and it was apparent then as much as it is now.” Jared laughs with Jensen and the crowd.

“He’s not lying. She isn’t too bad.”

“So the Austin Ren fair? Seriously? I didn’t think you’d go for something like this.”

“Well, Donna told me how much of a fun time you have there and I’d like to try it out. As long as I’m stuck with you.”

“You’re gonna be stuck with me and my family.” He smiles, giving you a devilish wink.

“I think I know how to handle you. It’s you that I’m worried about.” You brandish a finger at him and he blushes slightly.

“I’m so embarrassed, but my mom made us something. Well, got us something.” He pushes a wrapped bag that he had haphazardly put back together after looking through it.”

“So you obviously didn’t wait?” you laugh, pulling at the tissue paper.

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to die of embarrassment before you opened it. It’s okay. I guess.”

“You guess. That bad huh?” you giggle. First you pull out the first sweater and unfold it. It was Jensen’s size, and on the back it had an “Ackles” with a 01 under it. Not so bad, right? Well, when you pull out the second sweater. On the back there was a “Future Mrs. Ackles” and a 02 under the namesake.

“Future Mrs. Ackles, huh?”

“Yes. She did that. That was all mom. I didn’t put her up to it at all, promise.” He said.

“I love that she thinks that highly of me. I will wear it with honor.”

.

.

.

“That was a wonderful moment. That was also a throwback to when I proposed and she said yes.”

“They were deeply engrained in the Ren Fair and we hadn’t joined up with them, because we were taking photos of the eventual proposal.”

“I was just so happy. She was actually liking the Ren Fair, and this is something that my parents come down to do, and Mack and Josh and their families join us. So I wanted her to have fun.”

 “So the one thing he does that I remember seeing before he proposes, was her throwing knives.” Jared laughs. “Like literally she had a throwing knife in her hand when he proposed.”

“And all I was thinking was how proud of her knife throwing skills I was. I mean, look at what Supernatural did for her. Knife throwing.”

Jared laughs and shakes his head. “And now he’s locking her down for life. Weren’t you worried about the knife in your face?”

“Not in the slightest. She’s my knife throwing badass for life.”

[rose-of-pollux]

Inktober for Writers, Day 17

Prompt: Ornament Fandom: Perfect Strangers Title: Breakthrough Summary: [Based off of episode 6x17] In which Balki, Jennifer, and Mary Anne struggle to help an amnesiac Larry remember himself--and them.

Notes: Takes place after the events of episode 6x17, “Speak, Memory.”  The episode ended unresolved, with Larry having lost his memories again, so this is my resolution for it.

Cross-posted to AO3 & FFN.

Being unable to remember anything was a terrifying experience, Larry decided. He couldn’t sleep—not because of the headache that had started again, but because he simply could not relax, knowing absolutely nothing.  The other man who had suggested he sleep—his cousin, as he’d been informed—had seemed to be pushed to his emotional limits, which had prompted Larry to leave him be. Larry hadn’t gotten much from him before he had broken down—only that this was, apparently, the fourth time Larry’s memory had lapsed that day, and, not knowing what to say to comfort the cousin he couldn’t remember, Larry decided to turn in, hoping that sleep would, somehow, help to restore his lost memories.

But sleep was a distant thing when his mind was too busy trying to recall what it had lost—and all in vain, it seemed.  Even if he got his memories back, it was likely that they would slip away again.

He got up, heading for the door of the room when he heard a knock on the apartment door.  He hesitated at the door of the bedroom—he wouldn’t have remembered anyone at the door, anyway…

His cousin now answered the front door, admitting two blonde women inside—one was in a stylish black dress, and the other was in a flight attendant’s uniform.

“Hi, Jennifer.  Hi, Mary Anne,” his cousin said.

“Hi, Balki,” Mary Anne replied, kissing him in greeting.  “How’s Larry doing?”

“Mary Anne’s flight came in just after I’d dropped Mother off at the airport,” Jennifer explained.  “I filled her in on the way home.”

“It sounds like an awful day for all of you,” Mary Anne added.

“It’s not over yet,” Balki sighed.

A look of pure dread crossed Jennifer’s face.

“He… He didn’t lose his memories again, did he!?”

“Just after you left,” Balki said, with a teary nod.  “It’s lasting longer this time, and I don’ know what to do, I…”  He choked back a sob.  “The doctor says Cousin Larry will get his memories back for good eventually, but… I don’t know anymore—what if he is wrong!?”

“Balki, that can’t be!” Mary Anne said.  “The real Larry has to be in there somewhere—we just have to help him find himself!”

“I tried!” Balki exclaimed.  “I tried and I tried, and every time I find him, I lose him again!  It’s all just…”  He trailed off in a language that Larry couldn’t remember, but it was clear what he was trying to convey.

Jennifer, who had been quiet all this time, sat, listlessly, on the couch as she glanced at the ring on her left hand.

“I can’t believe this.  This is a nightmare!” she suddenly cried.

“Jennifer, you and Balki both need to calm down—” Mary Anne began.

“Calm down!?  How can I calm down!?” Jennifer retorted.  “The man I love doesn’t even remember my name!  During dinner, he called me Jessica!”

“Yes, you told me what a disaster dinner was,” Mary Anne said.  “But it wasn’t as though he was thinking of someone else named Jessica—he was thinking only of you!”

“What’s there for him to think about?” Jennifer asked, blinking back tears. “You know, of all the ways I thought I could lose his love, this wasn’t one of them.”

“Oh, Jennifer…” Balki sighed.  “You have lost your true love, and Mary Anne and I have lost our best friend…”

“What!?  No, we haven’t!” Mary Anne pointed out.  “Come on, you two!  I told you, the real Larry is still in there!  That means that he still loves us—with or without his memories!”

Still listening behind his bedroom door, Larry didn’t know what to think. Guilt was gnawing at him—he was bringing such pain to people he apparently loved, even though it was through no fault of his own.  But perhaps Mary Anne was right—if he was feeling this guilty over causing them so much distress, didn’t that mean that he loved them?

“Do you really think so, Mary Anne?” Balki asked.

“Yes, of course!” she exclaimed.  “Balki, even without his memories, Larry trusts you.  Without his memories, he shouldn’t know who to trust, but he’s willing to stay here with you, even if he can’t remember that you’re his cousin.  And Jennifer… When Larry was out there at that restaurant, did he even so much as glance at another woman, even if he couldn’t remember you?”

“…No, he didn’t,” Jennifer realized.  “He was completely focused on me and trying to make a good impression on Mother.  …He must’ve been so hurt and confused, and all he could think about was me.”

“And he was depending on me for help, just like how I always depend on him,” Balki added, quietly.

“You see?” Mary Anne asked.  “We just need to keep at it—he’s sure to get his memories back for good.  What have you been doing the other times?”

“Telling him stories about himself—where he’s from, his work at the Chronicle, all of his quirks…” Balki said.

“Okay, that’s a good start—what else?”

“…That’s all I’m usually able to manage before I break down,” Balki confessed, his voice breaking again.

“It’s okay; we can help now,” Mary Anne said, as she and Jennifer each placed a hand on Balki’s shoulder.  “Stories are good, but you need to give him things to look at—things he can hold and feel. All of the senses play a role in memory—the greatest of all being olfaction.”

Balki and Jennifer gave her a blank look.

“…I took biology in college, remember?” she explained.  “Okay, now what can we do to help spark his other senses?”

“Well, um…  Before this whole thing started, Cousin Larry tried my honey-glazed chicken,” Balki said. “He liked it… until I told him about the yak bile.”

“Well, okay, he doesn’t have to taste it; just smelling it should help,” Mary Anne said, as Jennifer’s expression became momentarily unreadable. “Heat some of it up.”

“He won’ be able to smell it now; he’s sleeping.”

“No, he isn’t,” Larry said, finally opening the bedroom door.

“Cousin!” Balki exclaimed.  He moved to hug him, but paused.  “…How are you?”

“Still can’t remember anything,” Larry sighed.  “Look, I’m…  I’m sorry. I didn’t realize just how upset I was making you all…  This is a lot harder on you than it is on me.  you don’t have to keep doing this; I can try and figure things out on my own.”

“No, Cousin—we want you to get better, and we will do whatever we can to help,” Balki insisted.

“That’s right,” Jennifer said, through a shaky voice.  “No matter what we’re going through now, it’ll be worth it if it means you’ll come back to us.”

“And we’ve got a lot of things to try,” Mary Anne finished.  She walked over and took Larry by the hand, leading him to the couch, where all four of them sat.

“But… what happens if none of them work and… I don’t come back?” Larry asked. He glanced at Jennifer, and then at the ring she was wearing, as though trying to remember giving it to her.

“Then…  Then we’ll help you start over with new memories,” she promised, her voice still a little shaky.

“That’s right,” Balki agreed.  “You would not abandon us; we won’t abandon you, either.”  He glanced at Mary Anne, who indicated the kitchen.  Realizing what she was trying to do, Balki got up. “I’ll get you something to eat, Cousin.”

“Thanks…” Larry replied, glumly, as Mary Anne went over with Balki to get the chicken ready, along with some other foods.

Jennifer hesitated for a moment, but then rested her head on Larry’s shoulder like she usually did.  Physically, he seemed exactly the same as always, though she knew that, mentally, he was in a very vulnerable place right now.

Slowly, he drew an arm around her, which prompted her to snuggle in further; she gripped his arm, as though wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to slip away from her again.

Balki and Mary Anne soon returned with the chicken and some other things to eat; the scents of the foods were comforting indeed.  They certainly felt like home, even if Larry wasn’t entirely sure what home was anymore.

Mary Anne now brought out the photo album, and soon, she, Balki, and Jennifer began to reminisce as they paged through the pictures.  Larry listened intently to their every word as he stared at each picture.  They had certainly been through a lot; it was soon quite clear why they were so invested in trying to get him to remember—all of the stories, good and bad, seemed to have only brought them closer together.

Larry’s emotions were mixed; he was on the verge of pulling together bits and pieces of his life from everything they were saying, but he hadn’t been able to actually remember anything on his own.  Still, he was in a much better spot than before this session.

It was nearly one in the morning when the stories began to be punctuated by a series of yawns.

“We’ve made definite progress,” Mary Anne said, pleased.  “I’m sure that if we keep this up, tomorrow, we’ll make even more. But Larry needs to sleep; it can only help everything sink in overnight.”

“Well, even if it doesn’t, thank you so much for trying,” Larry sighed. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Mary Anne nodded and kissed Balki goodnight before standing up.

Larry glanced back at Jennifer, who was looking up at him expectantly, still sitting with her hand gripping his arm.  Shyly, he leaned over and kissed her goodnight, as well.

It was as they kissed that a hazy image came to his mind—a different apartment, sparsely decorated with a wreath and a few Christmas ornaments, and Jennifer, standing there in the doorway…

He suddenly pulled back from the kiss, staring at her.

“Larry?” she asked, concerned.

“…Mistletoe…” he said, after a moment.

The others looked around, baffled, trying to find the mistletoe that Larry seemed to be referring to.

“No, not here…” he said, still staring at Jennifer.  “Another apartment…  And you and I kissed there… under the mistletoe.”

Balki and Mary Anne exchanged glances as Jennifer now placed her hands on the sides of Larry’s face.

“Larry!” she said, in hushed excitement.  “You remembered our first kiss!”

“I… I did…?”

She nodded, tears of joy springing to her eyes.

“And you remembered without any prompting from us!” Balki realized aloud.

“It’s a breakthrough!” Mary Anne exclaimed, happily.

Larry found himself swept up in a joyous group hug; there was something wonderfully familiar about the feeling.

Any sleepiness the others had now temporarily vanished, as they wanted to ride the wave of the breakthrough.  Balki and the girls were soon running around, gathering significant objects to hand to Larry in the hopes of sparking more memories—two trophies, books, his lucky pen… Balki even pulled the tapestry that had been hanging on the wall in Larry’s room and handed it to him; Larry had seen the tapestry when he had gone to rest, but, actually holding it, he was beginning to recollect its significance.

“You made this for me…?”

“Yes!”

It was another two hours before exhaustion claimed them all, but in those two hours, more memories had awakened, subsequently awakening others.

Morning found Larry waking up on the couch, surrounded by the others, who were still asleep.  Someone—Balki, no doubt—had put the tapestry over him like a blanket.  Balki himself was facing away from him, face planted in the arm of the left side of the couch; it must have been terribly uncomfortable, and yet, he was snoring away.

…He’s probably been in even more uncomfortable sleeping positions when tending the sheep on Mypos, Larry mused.  He then froze—he remembered that!?

He looked to his right.  On the other end of the couch was Mary Anne, still in her uniform, her arm draped over the couch arm in an attempt to reach for her travel bag; sleep had claimed her before she could’ve even touched it.  Between Mary Anne and him was Jennifer, still using his shoulder as a pillow; still asleep, she was slowly pulling the tapestry off of him and onto her, and Larry realized in amusement that he would have to learn to live with nightly rounds of blanket thievery once they got married.  He didn’t mind the idea at all.

He was content to stay where he was, relishing being able to recall his memories once again.  Between being able to use all of his senses and then being able to sleep, he was hopeful (a rare feeling for him) that, this time, he had everything back for good this time.

Jennifer stirred after some time, waking up.  She gave Larry a sheepish smile as she realized that she’d stolen the tapestry from him.

“Good morning,” she said, softly, so as not to disturb Balki and Mary Anne.

“Good morning.  …Don’t I know you from somewhere…?  …Kidding! I’m just kidding!” he added, hastily, as he saw the look on her face.

She smacked him on the shoulder with a throw pillow before hugging him in relief.

He hugged her back, and they stayed like that until Balki and then Mary Anne awoke, equally relieved and thrilled that Larry had all of his memories back—hopefully to stay this time.

“Balki…  Jen…  Mary Anne…” It was almost overwhelming, being able to know and speak their names again.  “Thank you…  Even if it was temporary, thank you for looking after me when I needed it and never giving up on getting my memories back.  I owe you guys so much…”

“Cousin, on Mypos, there are no debts between family members,” Balki insisted, drawing an arm around him.

“Or between people as close as family,” Mary Anne added.  “…Well, I mean here, between us.”

“They’re right, Larry,” Jennifer agreed.  ���We help each other out.  It’s why you have so many memories worth remembering.”

They were all right, of course—had it been one of them stricken with amnesia, he’d have been right alongside the others trying to help them remember.

How ironic; he had initially come to Chicago to enjoy the bliss of solitude and experience living alone for the first time in his life.  He got to enjoy it for all of two weeks before Balki had turned up on his doorstep.  And not even half a year later, they’d crossed paths with Jennifer and Mary Anne for the first time.

And now, with his memories back, he knew that there would soon be more memorable moments to add to them, on account of the others.  That was so much more fulfilling than living alone could ever have been.

[yvynyl]

// Letters to YVYNYL //

Guma - Floor Models

/ I’ll be honest. My YVYNYL email account is a mess. Swamped to the brim. I was stoked to find this letter, though! TJ’s story made me happy and his tunes even more so. Mellow, driven, beautiful. Listen to the two tracks he’s released so far before the whole record comes out in a week or so and you’ll share in the majesty of rebuilding his motorbike and crafting songs as strong as these. Let’s support his vision!

Hi Mark,

My wife and I got to Austin, TX a couple years ago with one car between the two of us, and as she was the first to get a job and start using the car every day to commute, I needed a way to get around. For six years in New York City I had been a cyclist, and I was proud of both my physical fitness and my willingness to bike year-round. Austin made short work of that, as it is basically a city of two giant hills that converge at the river that runs through downtown. Coming or going, the hills will get you. As the temperatures crept toward 110F and I showed up to freelance gigs exhausted and smelling bad, I knew that I needed a better way to travel.

We couldn’t afford a second car, so I bought a used motorcycle on Craigslist. It didn’t run. It was nearly fifty years old, had probably sat outside for a good amount of that time, and it was covered with rust and grime. But that was part of my plan: I had no mechanical experience, and the way that I justified the transition from a bicycle to a significantly faster and more dangerous mode of transportation was that I was going to learn how it worked by taking it apart and putting it back together. This would demystify the machine, I thought, and give me the knowledge needed to maintain what is essentially an outdated snapshot of internal combustion technology. In other words, a fifty-year-old gasoline motor is a finicky thing, and if I was going to use it every day to get around while my wife had the car, I needed to be able to understand it.  It took me a week to take the entire thing apart and lay it out in the garage, and I spent the next three months cleaning, painting, greasing, and reassembling.

A strange thing happened during that time: I stopped playing my instrument and writing songs. Instead, I started to dream about the bike. When my wife got up early to go to work, I would get up with her and bound outside with a cup of coffee and a wrench. I’d get lost polishing a piece of aluminum and look up only to find her pulling back into the driveway at the end of the day. I hovered over eBay auctions for used parts and posted questions to small forums of older, mostly male Honda enthusiasts, the kind of online communities where emojis are used haphazardly and— all other options for troubleshooting exhausted— where people would simply post their actual phone number and say “just call me and we can figure this thing out.”

New terminology started to populate my vocabulary. I began to think of objects around me in terms of three-dimensional, exploded-view diagrams. I would space out at work and instead of jotting down lyric ideas, I would scribble color combinations. As the bike came together, I marveled at the increasing amount of three-dimensional space it took up in the garage and the diminishing number of parts in labeled bags on the floor. And this process I would recommend to anyone who has a love of projects and puzzles. With a shop manual printed from the internet and YouTube videos aplenty, building a bike is like following instructions for the biggest and most well-designed LEGO set you will ever see. In the process of reassembly you begin to discern logic and intention; human qualities. Every piece has a function in one of a handful of systems that comprise the whole; many components serve two or more purposes by using forces of rotation and chain linkages to disperse physical energy to different parts of the bike over the course of an eternally recursive 360-degree path. I could go on, but Robert Pirsig has already written quite effectively to these points and others. 

I was also aware that I was inhabiting a new way of being. Last time I wrote to you about my experiences with depression and the transformative power of traveling alone. I knew that I could never have done this project in New York City. I now lived in a house instead of an apartment, I had a yard instead of a sidewalk, a garage, a long driveway. As the seasons turned and we spruced up our house and adopted some cats, I was aware of a new kind of domesticity that I had not otherwise known.

Domesticity is a big theme in my most recent work. I have always felt most comfortable writing songs from my actual, first-person perspective as opposed to creating characters or inhabiting situations with which I’m unfamiliar. This process takes time and like any other process of self-reflection is a habit that needs to be continually nurtured. I finished the bike in the spring; it looks brand new and runs better, I suspect, than it ever has. When I meandered back toward songwriting, I realized that I had not had any particularly grand adventures to plumb for inspiration and that the most pressing question on any given day was usually, “what do you want for dinner?” But this is a sacred place in which to exist! The truth of your inner experience can be more readily found in this stillness. There are messages in the calmness, a lazy cat on your lap while the sun breaks through the window.

When I felt that I had enough material, it was time to put some money up. There is no greater motivator for me than a deadline and cash at stake. I reached out to Chris Schlarb in Long Beach, CA. His music had found me earlier in the year, and I was struck by what I thought I recognized as another person digging at the same rock that I’ve always dug at. It was a completely unsolicited e-mail and the first line that I cast once I had decided to commit to the project. He wrote back the same weekend, and that was all I needed to kick off.

The album we made at his BIG EGO Studios over the course of three days in May 2018 eventually came to involve more than fifteen collaborators, a far leap from the last record that I made more or less alone in 2016. It was tracked live in a room with two drumkits, two basses, keys, and myself on guitar. The double rhythm section is equal parts men and women. I am proud that it features contributions from people of different genders, sexualities, colors, religions, and nationalities. Not just because inclusivity is attainable even on a shoestring budget and to a largely unknown songwriter (it is), or because attention to social justice should be the foremost mandate for collaboration (it isn’t), but because diversity of people leads to diversity of ideas, and our world is stronger when we create together. This record most certainly is.

I have always loved the so-called “pastoral” albums by the Kinks. Peppered as they are with Ray Davies’ angst about the music publishing industry, they nevertheless ooze this kind of unglamorous daily life. For this and other reasons, Ray gets a name check in one of the tunes. The song posted here references my time building the motorcycle. Other songs are about eating, traveling, sex, the cats; regular things for regular people. It might be a little while before I write another record— when I got back from Long Beach I bought another motorcycle and it’s currently laid out in labeled bags on the floor of the garage.

-T.J. Masters

Guma (2019) is released on March 15, 2019 and is available now on 12” vinyl through a BIG EGO Records 2019 subscription or directly through Bandcamp.

(Photo credit above: Bridgette Miller)

Got a story to tell? Submit them via  Letters to YVYNYL.

(Band photo credit: Devin O’Brien)

[la-appel-du-vide]

THAILAND 2019 - Day Twelve {Krabi}

Today was another free day for us - meaning we didn’t have anything specifically booked or planned, we just knew we wanted to go visit Ao Nang Beach and Railay Beach! We got up and ready, tried to eat some toast in the hotel lobby but all the bread was gone, and then caught a taxi to Ao Nang Beach.

This is a major tourist area as well. There are a million shops, restaurants, boats for rent, etc. We thought it would be a good idea to eat something before we started our day, so we grabbed something quick, and then went over to the beach.

I suggested we start over on Railay Beach, because that’s the most popular one, and I thought we should get there before it got too crowded. We got to ride on another long-tail boat to get there, and that never gets old. So authentic, so traditional, so fun.(Bring a poncho though - you’re gonna get wet haha.)

We got to Railay Beach, took some photos with the huge line of long-tail boats, and then set out to find a smoothie of course. Mel said she had one of the best smoothies of her life on this beach, so we hoped to find it. (Spoiler - We didn’t.) We each ordered one from a different shop, and they were both much more like drinks instead of thick smoothies which is always a disappointment, but at least they tasted good and were cold!

We set up base camp in a shady spot, and then I went off to wade around the bay. The water temperature is amazing and refreshing, every single time I step into it. This area has a super sandy floor, which was a nice change from so much coral and rocks elsewhere. 

Can’t help but feel like these kinds of days are really what makes life worth living. We get through the mundane, boring routine of normal life for moments like these, and they really are worth it.

I wandered around for awhile, but then noticed some kayaks for rent that I thought would be a fun activity for us. I went back to where Beach was sleeping, and asked her if she thought we’d be capable of kayaking with all our important stuff, and not capsizing and destroying everything haha. We decided to give it a try, so we put all our money and phones in our little waterproof cases, and then wrapped my camera bag in two towels, and put it in Beach’s backpack. Once we were prepared, we went over to the rental area and filled out the paperwork to get one. Only then did we learn that we could leave our bags in the office. All that work for nothing. (;

We had a hard time carrying that heavy thing all the way out to the water, but once we got it in, we were solid. We paddled around the island, and even ran into a live, wild jellyfish! I spotted him, and we circled back to get a closer look. Could hardly believe our eyes. We’ve been up close to so much wildlife here!

We paddled into a couple sea caves (which were sooooo dark), over to a rock that had a gold stripe made out of some sort of tin wrapped all the way around it, and then stopped at a different beach so Beach could take a dip. I waded around behind here, and on the way back in, I got stung by a jellyfish. I went from fine to severe stinging pain on and around my knee. I tried to use water and sand to stop the pain, but nothing worked super well. I learned later that using water can actually release more toxins into your body and make things worth, so that was knowledge that came a little too late. No fun. The swelling took quite awhile to subside, and my freaking knee hurt the rest of the day. Ow ow ow.

I finally sucked it up and got back in the kayak,and we paddled around some more. I enjoyed laying down on the kayak, and just feeling the motion of the waves... it’s one of the most relaxing feelings in the world. UNTIL we hit the rocks. We took a different route going in than we had taken going out, and we regretted everything. We got stuck and high-centered on so many different rocks, and it was nearly impossible to get ourselves backed out of there so we could go in the right direction. Omg so frustrating hahaha.

But we made it. Carrying the wet kayak all the way back was even worse than the first time. My arms were dead. 

We grabbed our stuff and started wandering around the tourist area just off the beach. It’s such a cute little area, surrounded by palm trees, and so many things to see. Such chill vibes. Very island-y. We loved it.

Beach stopped to try a sugar crepe from a food stand we passed, and I would describe the “crepe” as something more like very sweet chips haha. It was so crunchy! Unexpected for sure!

We stopped and had lunch at a small, rooftop restaurant, and it was pretty good. Filled us right up. But not enough that I couldn’t get some more rolled ice cream from a stand we passed on our walk! I’m obsessed! This time I went with plain chocolate and Oreo. So delicious. I need one right outside my hotel tbh. 

We checked out some more of the souvenir shops, and I finally got Aubrey a Buddha statue. She seems to love Buddha lately, so I’ve been looking for a good one for her this whole time. Mission accomplished.

Ended our day at Railay Beach with some more photos in the bay. While we were out there, we came across ANOTHER jellyfish. Took some up-close photos of it (though they aren’t great due to the murky water), and then we got spooked and jetted on out of the water. We warned a nearby family they were there too, and they got out as well. Let me tell you from experience - OUCH. Don’t mess with those things. On our way out of the water, we came across a dead jellyfish floating to shore. Beach dragged it to the water’s edge and marked it with a stick. We hoped people would notice the stick and be careful. But nopeeee, just a few minutes later we noticed a little Asian girl wandering over to it. We were nervous watching her, as she got closer and closer. Finally, it looked like she was bending over to touch it and we couldn’t take it anymore. We jumped up, started running over to her screaming not to touch it, and probably scared her half to death. Her mom didn’t have much reaction down the beach a ways, which is interesting haha. But I also can’t imagine being a little kid and having two strangers start running at me yelling in a different language! We had the best intentions though, truly. Her dad finally understood what we were saying, and he came over to pull her away from the electrocution just waiting to happen. So we were basically superheroes today. Changing the world one potential jellyfish sting at a time.

We grabbed our stuff and went over to the long-tail boats to catch a ride back over to Ao Nang. For the record, I should mention that this sand is high up on my list of quality sand for the trip! Powder white, so soft, and I’m obsessed that’s all.

We got back over to Ao Nang just as the sun was starting to set. So beautiful to watch the sunset over the ocean, wow wow. We went looking for a smoothie (I know it sounds like we get them all the time but they are literally a dollar so it’s fine I promise), but wandered in and out of souvenir shops on our way. We picked up a couple more things - oops. And every smoothie location we passed had smoothies that looked way more like drinks than smoothies (trust me, there’s a difference - and we are paranoid af). So we eventually gave up and settled for some ice cream we found. I got a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of coconut, but literally right after he handed it to me, I turned around, started licking it, and the top scoop fell RIGHT off. Just like the movies. SAD.

So I had a scoop of strawberry. (;

We finished those as we walked back to the main dock area to get a taxi, and passed hella drag queens on our way, all dressed up and advertising a cabaret show. Very interesting, I’m kind of impressed with how realistically they can make themselves look like women... Like, how?? 

We also made the decision to send it and buy a watermelon smoothie to try, because we’ve seen them everywhere and were intrigued. It was not a good purchase tbh hahaha, not great. Mostly tasted like we were drinking watermelon juice. But we tried it! Now we won’t wonder. (;

The first taxi we tried was a disaster. She drove us like 3 minutes to a La La Moon in Ao Nang, and when we tried to explain that this wasn’t what we wanted, she insisted it was. Finally we got her to understand, and she said Krabi was too far and wanted us to get out, BUT SHE STILL WANTED US TO PAY HER. Like, lady... we could have walked to this point in five minutes. You didn’t take us where we wanted to go at all. Dumb. So we gave her just a little bit and that was that.

Found a community bus that travels from Ao Nang to Krabi for way cheap, so that worked out ok. It dropped us off near Walking Street, and then we were able to catch our own taxi back to the hotel pretty easily. 

Then the typical night routine - Tumblr, checking our phones, editing/posting pictures, travel logs, Beach does homework, we shower, and then bed.

It’s really not a bad life. (;

[endless-vall]

I’ll be there for you - Matt x MC fanfic

Summary: While Jey’s being bullied by Victor, Tad and the entire production of their film, Matt suffers too. He decides to ease his pain by paying a visit to Jey and spending a lovely evening with her.

Author’s note: Moments in-between are one of my favorites. 

I’ve written this before the latest chapter came out, but it still works. 

I sometimes forget how precious Matt is, and it’s sooo fun to write about them. 

Even if RCD 2 is really heavy-plotted, there’s still place for some feel-good content. I hope they resolve it soon, since Jey’s position... Well - Sucks.

Tagging: @writtenbycandy @mariamatsuo @asprankle @liam-rhys @dandeservestheworld. Comment on this post to let me know if you wanna be tagged as well.

Matt plopped down on the couch in his living room, after a long day of shooting.

He was feeling bad they were cutting out Jey's role in the movie, and his blood boiled when he thought on the other things Victor tried to do to her.

He didn't have a chance to chat with her today, so he took out his phone, shooting a message to her.

'How are you?' - Matt.

It was a stupid question. Obviously she wasn't doing OK.

But he couldn't think of anything better to write and she was his girlfriend after all. Even if they had to hide it in the moment.

Matt swallowed as he went through the news tabloids, that were trashing Jey's name once again. He knew all of it was a lie but it still infuriated him.

He bumped into a photo session of a 'date' of Charley and hers. He frowned at that, anger and jealousy forming in the pit of his stomach.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself once again it was all a lie. It wasn't real.

It wasn't like Matt wasn't familiar with the showbiz, he knew it well and even faked a relationship with Alissia Griffin himself.

But maybe the difference was tgat now he had something real and amazing in his hands. Something that he didn't want to be taken away from him. Something- SOMEONE he cared about dearly and didn't wanna see get hurt, even though it was inevitable, because Victor had already hurt her, and was set out for more.

Matt decided he'd do whatever he could, in the meantime, for her. Everything she'd need, everything their plan needed, in order to succeed.

Checking his chat window he sighed when Jey didn't respond to his message yet, deciding to call her instead.

He dialed her number and held the phone to his ear, waiting patiently for her to pick up.

"Uhh... Hello?" Her voice came out as some what of a yawn, and Matt immediately chuckled.

"Did I wake you up?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Mhm, yeah. But that's fine. It's a nice change of pace, hearing your voice as I wake up." Jey noted, her voice turning into a gentle tone.

Matt furrowed his eyebrows, realizing how hard it must've been for her lately. If the hell Victor was unleashing upon wasn't bad enough, she barely had her friends and him to support her.

Victoria, Seth, Teja and even Chazz were kind of busy lately, and he was instructed not to be seen with her in public.

He cherished the moments they shared in private, but he wanted more.

He couldn't wait for the moment they'll take Victor down and could determine their own fate.

He decided, once they're done with this film and this conflict they've fallen into, he'd ask Jey to go public with him. He was ready for it, and had a feeling she was feeling the same.

"It's really nice to hear your voice as well." He smiled at her, imagining her in bed, all sleepy and cuddled up in her blankets. He wished he could be the one cuddling her.

But actually, he could.

"Do you mind if I drop by?" He asked, suggesting.

"Please do."

Jey didn't waste any moment and her answer was immediate, tone eager and pleased.

"On my way." He promised, standing up and heading to the door.

A quick car ride later he was standing in front of her door. Knocking on it once, the door flew wide open and Jey attacked him with a hug.

"I missed you so much..." She murmured against his chest, as Matt's own hands wrapped around her tightly.

"I did too. You have no idea..." He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with Jey's natural smell. It might've been silly but he missed it too.

They stood there for a long moment, taking each other in.

After what seemed like forever, they pulled apart, grinning at each other despite their overall grim situation.

"Come in," Jey said, taking ahold of his hand and pulling him even before he got the chance to respond.

Matt didn't complain, though, and followed her willingly.

Once they were inside the house, Jey shut the door behind him and sighed. It was both a desperate and relived sigh.

Matt gave her a little shove, making her giggle. "Thanks for coming here." She told him, and it was visible that she was grateful for his presence. She looked a lot calmer even by just the fact he was there.

He planted a peck on her cheek. "Thanks for having me." He gave her another kiss, this time on her lips. He lingered there, caressing her softly and sweetly.

Jey rose to her tip-toes, kissing him back and burrying her hand in his hair.

His hair wasn't really long enough for her to run her fingers through it, but it was enough for her to tug at it lightly and earn a growl from him.

She giggled once again, against his lips just before they pulled apart again. Their hands remained wrapped around one another, their faces merely inches apart.

"What do you wanna do?" Jey asked him, cheered up.

"I thought we could watch a movie or something." He suggested. "Order some takeout, some snacks..." He went on, seeing sparkles in her eyes.

"You had me at snacks." She let him know, untangling herself from his embrace and walking over to her phone, to order the promised takeout.

"Really? At snacks? I thought I had you at 'Oh! It's you!' In your audition with Markus." Matt teased, settling beside her.

Jey burst into a good-natured laughter, dialing some fast-food restaurant's number.

"You're basically right, but you know this wasn't what I meant." She replies to him and then motions for him to be quiet, as she hears response from the other side of the line.

About twenty minutes later, everything they could think off was spread out before them, and they munched on some fries as the movie they chose began.

They chose to watch some light-hearted comedy, to ease off both their minds off other matters.

Seeing any one of Tommy's movies, or something reminding the blockbusters Matt appeared in, would be an annoyance they didn't want to deal with. And didn't have to, as well.

-- They made bad jokes as the movie started, making fun of even the non-comic aspects of the film. It was a good distraction and an easy way to let go of everything that was worrying them at the moment.

Jey threw a bunch of fries at Matt, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh no you didn't!" He fake-threatened her, tackling her into the couch and showering her with kisses.

"Gahhh!" Jey was caught off-guard, but she was enjoying the attention and kisses. Matt started tickling her and Jey couldn't control her laughter, rolling throughout her grand mansion.

"Fine! I give up! I give up, just spare me!!" She begged, eventually, and Matt ceased his doing.

"For you? Darling, always." He planted a kiss on her nose and turned back, to keep watching the movie.

Jey shook her head, chuckling to herself as she caught her breath. She positioned herself on her elbows, watching Matt intently.

He drank his soda, seeing her staring from the corner of his eyes.

Lowering his cup just a little, he questioned. "See something you like?".

"Definitely." She leaned in, placing one hand on his chin and making him turn his face towards her. "More than like, actually."

Matt could've sworn he saw blush forming on her cheeks. Then pink-ish color decorating her face somehow managing to make her look even more adorable and beautiful than the usual.

He hesitated, considaring his next move, before locking his eyes determinedly with hers. "Me too." He admitted.

They shared a long, meaningful look, before Jey rested their foreheads together. "Thank you for coming tonight, Matt, seriously." She smiled at him, her tone giving away how much it really meant to her.

Matt blinked his eyes close, caressing her face and holding her close. "Don't worry. I wanted to. Really." His tone was serious and deep.

Suddenly, a huge noise hit off from the TV's speakers, as something went off in the movie.

Jey and Matt bursted into laughter, both startled and amused by the movie they were watching.

The movie went on, and they finished their junk food. Matt laid back, motioning for Jey to lean over him.

She agreed momentarily and then rested her head over his chest, humming happily.

They was something incredibly pure and intimate in that moment, even though for the naked eye it would seem they simply cuddled up to watch a silly movie, nothing special or unnatural about that.

Matt pulled Jey closer, rubbing soothing circles over her back. He savored every second of that evening, having Jey all to himself.

He kissed her temple, as he felt her relax further into his embrace, drifting away into a blissful sleep.

He smiled to himself, seeing how peaceful she looked as she slept in his arms.

Soon, He promised himself. Soon, he'll be able to hold her every night, and chase away anything that could heavy her mind.

[kiara-shannon]

Race recap of my half marathon PR for those who are interested 

(It’s really fucking long sorry 😘) 

Woah. This day. I have a lot of feelings about it that have been tricky to process which is why this is taking a few days to write. 

I also wanted to wait and see if there were any good race photos and so far this is the best one. I’ll post more as they show up.

So lets start at the beginning. I signed up for this race back in December 2017 and began training for the marathon in January with every intention of attempting a BQ. I was on track, and training was going INCREDIBLY. I’m talking my long runs were dreamy, I was hitting my goal paces every workout, and I was staying injury free (with the exception of some minor knee irritation which after seeing my fave PT went away entirely). I was set, I was ready. Then two weeks before the race, I was dumb and rode my bike back and forth from a restaurant about a mile away from my house without a helmet and ended up have a pretty scary accident (I’m talking I flew over the handlebars and landed so hard people came running out of their houses to make sure I was okay) and ended up with a concussion that left me useless for 3 days, and unable to run or do any exercise for a full week and a half. I tried some mild running for 30 minutes and got through it but it was hard, and I already felt out of shape. There was not a chance in hell I was going to be ready to run a full marathon in just a few days time, and mentally I couldn’t take 4+ hours of being on a course feeling miserable. So I spoke with my coach (who is also my mama), and we decided I needed to drop the race. She wanted me to not run at all, but was understanding when I told her that I would be just so upset if I was at the race and not running, which I would be since she was running in the half. She agreed to let me drop down to the half on the condition that I ran based off of how I felt, that I threw all time goals out the window, and that I took it easy and walked when I needed to.

So after a day of laying at the beach and eating pizza and drinking a glass of wine I was ready for the slowest half marathon of my life. 

Race Morning: Because I initially thought I’d be running in the full marathon, I signed up for the earliest shuttle to give myself plenty of time to be bussed out to the start and to chill. Even after switching to the half I had to remain on the same shuttle. The race started at 6:00am, we got the the start at 4:15am and had to just sit there and wait. It was freaking freezing and I was not dressed for it. So lesson learned there, BRING PANTS. Luckily I had my mom there to keep me company while we waited for what felt like forever for the race to start. Finally by 5:45 I took off my watch, we dropped our bags off and headed for the start without warming up because who needs to warm up when you’re gonna be running slow. I somehow scored a bib for the fast wave start so we said our goodbyes and see you soons and I headed to the back of my wave. 

When my wave took off I was in DFL which is fine and exactly what I figured would happen. I tried to keep my breathing easy and run at a pace that felt smooth and easy because 13 miles is a long way to go. I hit mile marker 1 in what felt surprisingly quick but based off how I was feeling I was thinking I was running about 8 minute pace (which I later found out was more 7:25 pace). Without a watch it was difficult to gauge where I was at but every once in awhile I would check the time on my phone to get a basic idea of where I was. 

I made a deal with myself to keep it easy until mile 7 and see what I had left for the last 10k. I focused on catching the next person up ahead and tried to remain calm and most importantly keep my breathing in check. I honestly felt so so good though, so it wasn’t hard to do. 

As soon as I hit mile 7, I knew I was in good shape and I started picking up the pace and honestly started having so. much. fun. I was FLYING past people and was smiling the whole way. The scenery was beautiful and I kept my eyes focused on the person in front of me and started picking them off one by one. 

The only bad part about this course (and it’s really not even that bad if you prepare for it), is when you hit mile 10 you’ve got about a mile of uphill with no turns so you can see it the whole way. You can definitely feel it after coming off some really nice downhill and mentally it’s a little bit of a struggle. I kept just trying to catch the next person up ahead and eventually caught up with a woman who as soon as I caught up to her started to take off and I did my best to go with her. 

At this point, I thought I’d finish at about a 1:36/1:37 which still would have been a 3 or 4 minute PR which would have been INCREDIBLE. You have one last big downhill at mile 11.6 and then you turn a corner onto the coast and have one mile along the water. The woman I was running with held up the pace and started to pull away. I felt fatigued and tried to keep up with her as best I could. She was ahead of me at the finish line chute and I took off and sprinted (at least that’s what it felt like) and passed a few more people before crossing the finish line and promptly vomiting as the clock read somewhere between 1:35/1:36. I was ecstatic at that and went off to watch my mom finish. 

It wasn’t until a little while after my mom had finished and we took pictures by the ocean that we finally went to go look at our results. When I saw my time I honestly yelled “Holy shit no way that’s not mine”. 

1:34:46

Nearly 6 minutes faster than the personal best I set just a month prior.

Because breaking 1:40 has been my goal for as long as I can remember, it hadn’t occurred to me that breaking 1:35 would be possible. 

To top it off, I also scored my first ever age group win, placing first out of 45 women in my age group. I also placed 27th woman overall out of nearly 850 which is also mind-blowing to me. 

Although this weekend was not the one I had planned, it turned into something else beautiful. This was an unexpected win for me, in many ways and although it’s hard to know that I had a very good chance of achieving my BQ, I am still very happy with my results. 

I think for the time being, I will be stepping away from the marathon and have no plans to attempt a BQ any time soon. You have to put your whole self into training for a marathon and so it’s insanely difficult when it all of a sudden is ripped away from you. This time around, it mentally got to me when I knew I wouldn’t be able to run and I have no need to put myself through that again any time soon.

I do have plans in the future for more half marathons (probably focusing on a winter race), as my mom and I both agree that this is probably my distance. This PR proved to me I have so much potential that I didn’t know was there and I am SO EXCITED to see what the future has in store. 

See you soon 1:29:00.

If you made it this far, thank you. I appreciate each and every one of you. Sending love ❤️❤️❤️

Also if you have any questions about how I trained or anything like that do feel free to reach out!

[louisetakesphotos]

Well dear Tumblr community, it’s time to fill you in on quite the misadventure.  Let me tell you a tale. A tale of woe, a tale of heartbreak, a tale of schlemeils and schlimazels. Of a thing known as the Blitz (a string of constant bad luck).The tale begins in Bangkok, with hardly enough sleep my human, known affectionately as Chaim, and I were ready to jump on a bus to Cambodia. With only 2 minutes to spare he decided to get money out at the ATM, alas the ATM had a different idea and his card was swallowed up into the black abyss of another countries banking system, never to be seen again. Because the universe was trying to make it fairly obvious it was playing a joke on us, that was the moment the skies opened and the first rain in several months poured forth. The bus pulled up and knowing my visa was expiring the next day we decided to get on it. Even as my stomach muscles clenched, I kept assuring him, 'I've got you man, I've got you.' 600m up the road we realised the error of our ways and we jumped off the bus, knowing we needed to cancel his card before we spent 12 hours making our way to a new country. Out we jumped into the downpour. This wasn't just an ordinary downpour, this was a downpour in Khoa San Road, the scummiest, filthiest place in all of Thailand. Water was flooding down the street, it was up to our knees and our shoes kept falling off, so eventually we said ‘to hell with it all’ took them off and walked barefoot through the minefield of unknown substances stuck to the ground. As I took my first step on the slippery sidewalk I saw a rat scuttle past, followed by an army of centipedes and cockroaches. With all my worldly possessions getting soaked on my back we finally made it back to our guesthouse. I turned to Chaim and assured him yet again ‘it’s ok, I have a card. I’ve got you till you can order another one.’So away we went the next day, with blue skies the universe shined it’s agreement down on us ‘Yes Louise and Chaim, you made the right decision, this was a small upset in an otherwise beautiful adventure to a new country. Everything will be fine. Fine I say!' The universe desperately assured us, trying and succeeding to lull us into a false sense of security. We arrived at the border to discover what a filthy liar our fair universe was and realised we were currently halfway through a scam. Pay them to organise a Cambodian visa, or get left behind and have to organise our own way to Siem Reap. We'd forgotten what it was like in developing world countries, so we begrudgingly agreed to just pay the extra money and be done with it.'We'll be in Cambodia soon, then our luck will turn, won't it?' We asked each other hopefully. ALAS, it was not to be. Alas the universe, the simulation, the author of whatever strange novel we're apparently characters in decided that no, the plot would be better if our luck stayed down, and so I walked over to a nearby ATM machine to get money out. Telling Chaim over and over, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. We’re going to have a great time, god I can’t wait to get into Cambodia. Our cambodian 'friend' who was organising our visas, who’d assured us he had our best interests at heart came up and agreed and agreed, oh yes thats a good amount to get out, oh yes you should exchange your money here, oh yes cambodia is good, oh yes oh yes. And suddenly a beeping sound interrupted this hectic tirade of useless information and I realised I did not in fact have Chaims back because my ATM card had just been swallowed. NOOOOOOOO. It was the last day of my visa, what do we do, what do we do. We're at the border, where do we go? How do we deal with this? Oh, for the first time in my life I was semi organised before I left the country, and I have a second card. It’s ok, it’s ok. It’s all going to be ok. It has $0 on it, but it's all going to work out for the best.We cross the border, we wait in this shed over here. We walk through this line over there. We double back, we walk in circles, screeching hawkers, pounding heat, the knowledge that the last two times, in the last two days we’ve used ATM’s our cards have been swallowed. Having been assured that ATMs in Cambodia are even less reliable my stomach knotted up, and I thought of all the things I’ll do if I’m stuck in a crazy country with no access to money. We made it back to the bus, knowing we’d been scammed, knowing we were down to my travel card which had $0 on it, feeling the knots tightening in my stomach. But we had our bags, we had our passports and our cambodian visas. We had our sanity and everything was going to be alright. We laughed at ourselves ‘well we needed a good reminder, Cambodia is different, we’re well and truly back in the developing world and they don’t have the same rules, our bad luck will turn around.’ We reached the point in the story where it seems as if the main characters life is back on track, that everything is ok, but anyone reading the book or watching the movie knows that this is the false promise before the bleakest point in the heroes story. And so away we went, gallivanting through temples, through back streets, playing with children, spying on monks, eating street food, riding our bicycles in the street. Taking the best photos of my trip so far and getting more and more excited about the next month of photography ahead, thinking of the stories I would write with them to try and send to magazines, thinking 'ah yes this is the life for me. Oh how happy photography makes me.' And as it always does in the best stories, everything came crashing down around us. One sleepy Saturday night, after a hearty dinner, after a day looking at all the photos we'd taken through the temples of Angkor wat, getting excited to go back the next day, everything changed. My social media addiction led me to look for my phone but it wasn't where I left it. I searched through my belongings but something was different. I looked at my camera bag and something didn't quite add up. Where my beloved baby Mandy the Mark iii had been, alongside 3 expensive professional lenses, was a large gaping hole. The hole seemed to expand in front of me, it was no longer the bright blue of the inside of my bag, but had turned black, it was a black hole and it was expanding, sucking everything in with it. Every good memory, every future photograph, the entire month of travel in front of me. I stared, still unable to comprehend I had just been robbed. That $8000 worth of camera equipment, along with my new mobile phone was no longer mine, but instead in the hands of some backstabbing thief at the guesthouse I was staying in. "Hey wait a minute, my camera's gone too?" Chaim said. Without a doubt we knew it was the hotel staff, or someone working with them, the door was locked, the windows barred, and we'd only been gone for 20 minutes. The invasion of privacy, the loss of my livelihood, the knowledge that the trust i'd had was gone and all the niceties of the homely place we'd decided to make our abode for the past week crumbled into a vile mess around us.What happened next could be the plot of an entire movie, yet I'll try and sum it up in a short paragraph. Three entire days in a sweltering, post colonial police station, arguing with shirtless police officers with the reek of last nights alcohol on them, all for the sake of a simple piece of paper, a copy of the police report, so I could try and leave this shemozzle behind me and get my gear back.We were intimidated, accused of lying and attempting insurance fraud, and asked to completely change our story because they had no intention of investigating a hotel in a place who's only income is tourism. Constantly being asked "What do you want the police to do about it?" It took yelling, sweet talking, persistence, a refusal to leave and becoming a massive pain in their side and finally the insinuation of a possible 'kindness' (also known as a bribe) I had the piece of paper in my hand. The knots that had been tightening in my stomach finally relaxed and a laugh burst out as we walked out of station, and were free to leave Cambodia and try and get my belongings back. After telling you of the horrific luck we dealt with, I have to finish with a note about Cambodia. I still love that beautiful, wonderful country, and ironically, although I dealt with some aggravating officers and thieves, the people in general are some of the loveliest people I've met on my travels.After losing my most important possessions and feeling like the world around me had come crashing down and everything was bitter and horrible, the thing that pulled me rather quickly from my self pity party, was looking around at the country I was lucky enough to be in, at the poverty that led to a city with a higher theft rate, and a country where police need bribes because they don't earn a high enough wage to support their families. A country that is still reeling from genocide, from severe mistreatment, and whose magic comes from the under-developed nature of the place. A country I'll most definitely be returning to, with a new camera.

[abdicatedarchive]

unexpected visit || wren and rory

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: rory’s dorm room // late fall 2023

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: wren x rory ( @hotmcss ).

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒: assault mention, eating disorder mention

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒: wren makes his way to rory’s college when he gets an unexpected call from his mom

Wren got off the train and headed towards Rory's dorm, he had helped her move in. Saying goodbye to Rory for a few months had been one of the hardest things Wren had ever done. With all the moving and their parents being gone or being thousands of miles away from Nana ... Rory had been his rock. It was time to make it out in the world, and as he was getting the hang of it, his mother had called and said that Rory needed him whether or not she was willing to admit it. Wren knocked on the familiar dorm room, with her name on a decorative name plate, and waited for his sister.

College was supposed to be the stepping stone for Rory, she spent her whole high school time preparing for this, but a party on the last day of school made her rethink everything. At first she tried to act like it never happened but that was impossible. She barely talked to her parents or nana, and she did the best to avoid Wren, she just didn't have the energy, for anything. She heard the door, she groaned and walked to open it. Her appearance was unkempt as she opened the door. Shit. she thought to herself as she saw her twin standing there. "Wrennie," she said enthusiastically.' What brought here?" Wren had never seen his sister disheveled basically in her whole life, even when things went south with Jonah she would come into his room with a full makeover and look better than ever even if she was about to cry. "Just wanted to see you" he said with a smile as he walked into her room, the place was a mess. "Don't tell me you're the messy roommate" Wren teased her as she sat down on her bed, picking up a family photo from her bedside, "So how's school going?" he asked, not trying to probe too heavily. "A text next time would of been nice." she sat back on her bed. College look like it was doing him good, she was happy for him. "Hey what can I say?" she shrugged bringing her knees to her chest. Rory didn't  think it looked that bad but she hadn't really left the room in the past two days. "You know, great. Star student right here." she lied. She wasn't sure the last time she went to class. She did submit the weding looks she was supposed to but those were older drawings for when she planned getting married ad she got an A. That was luck. " How's being the star of duke?" "Where's the element of surprise then?" said Wren, "Don't worry, I'll make it up to you when I take you out for dinner." Wren was more than worried about her, even her body language was closed off. And now she was lying, he knew she wasn't doing well in school. The school had even called their folks about it, it was that bad. "It's been fun, pledging a fraternity. The whole nine yards. Girls are nice, they just don't ... they're not. You get it" said Wren, not really finishing the thought at all. No girls could ever compare to The Chanel Hampton. Rory sucked her teeth. "I could do without the surprises" she really didn't want to go to dinner, or outside just the thought of taking a shower and getting dressed seemed like more than she wanted to do today or at all this week. She was happy he was enjoying the college life, kinda of jealous too. "Yeah, nothing  comes close." she sighed as she thought of Jonah, she loved him but she betrayed him.  Not by choice but he wouldn't understand....no one would. "They say time makes things easier, but i'm not so sure." the last part was more for her than for him,  it was her feeling bad about herself. Wren listened to her give him advice, sometimes it was best to hear things from yourself. "Time will make all things better, all we have to do is show up and work hard to get there" said the boy, things getting easier wasn't something that was just going to be dropped in his lap. Wren looked around the room, "Do you want me to put in a load of laundry for you?" he asked, hoping that even the smallest of tasks would make it easier on her. She always picked him up when he was down, she had been there in the hospital rooms and at the rehab to visit. Now it was his turn. He was right and she knew it but she didn't want to hear it, she didn't want to hear anything. "No, i'll do it later." lies. She had no intentions of doing anything. They had been apart for so long that she hoped it interfered with their twinpathy or he would just think it was his own pain over Chanel. "You know you don't have to baby me, I'm fine..really." "Have you talked to Jo?" Wren asked, curious to know whether or not she had kept up with Jonah. He could see the pain on her face though, "I"m just worried about you, that's all. We've never been apart this long" the boy added. It was true, they really had never spent more than a month or so apart in their entire lives. She shook her head, putting her chin to her knees. It hurt to think of him, all of this hurt more because she felt like she failed him." Do you guys still talk?' she asked in hushed tone. Everything was making her feel horrible, she hated it. It was harder bein away from him but she knew he would see her downward spiral. "I know but how else are you going to be the pride and joy of the family." she tried to tease not sure if that's how it came out. "We've been busy with school, but the lads do get together on discord and play a game or two" said Wren with a small smile. They didn't talk about the girls though. He put his hand on his sister's shoulder, "Don't worry we only talk shop" he added. Wren could tell something was weighing on her, but he knew if there was something big enough Jonah would have said something. "Me? The pride and joy? I think you doubt your abilities. I can hardly dress myself" Wren replied, there wasn't a piece in his closet that Rory hadn't picked out for him. That or school merchandise. "The simp squad." she looked over at him, besides the obvious sadness from the break up he was glowing and in a outfit she had packed. It gave her a small joy to know he's doing the Bishops name good. Even though she looked like she hadn't showered in weeks. "It makes me happy to know you are looking like a everything in that school. I know those frat boys are taking notes and the girls are swooning." rory silenced her phone, she was supposed to be in class but she wasn't feeling it. "I love you Wrennie but why are you really here?" "Yeah well, the girls are ... they're girls. They're not her, but I'll get over it eventually. Just a couple more bad dates and I'm sure I'll be back to normal" said Wren, he wasn't sure when he would feel normal without Chanel. But he would some day. For now he would continue to check her instagram several times a day. She asked him why he was really here, and he felt like he had no option but to reply with the truth, "Mom called, said she was worried and that the school called. She was worried about World War 3 happening if they showed up here so they sent me to check on you"

"I always wondered how people love someone and they move on , Like I get loving someone else but I fully believe in one true love, but I also think life doesn't ever want to make it that easy." She didn't thinking there was anyone else for her than Jonah, she loved him.  The thought of someone else made her skin crawl, she hoped Wren didn't notice the shiver of the disgust or the way she started picking at her skin. "She's so dramatic." she sighed looking at her arm. 'They call me like a thousands times a day, it's so much." she used to talk her mom at least 4 times a day. Now she has like thirty missed calls from her.

"Well, Chanel and I are kind of out of options. It's just not meant to be" said Wren, he had given up all hope of him and Chanel ending up together. She was having a good time at college, he was having a good time at college. It was almost like they never dated at all. Maybe they shouldn't have. It hurt his heart to think like that, but also this was about Rory right now. Not about him. "And you used to love talking to Mom a thousand times a day" Wren countered, he just wanted to know what was going on. "Why are you shutting us out? We're bishops, we're not supposed to be like this. You haven't been talking to me either" Wren added.

If this was another time and she was her regular self she would text Chanel and see how she was really holding up but she was barely on her phone for five minutes a day. They all went to college she assumed thins would change but she didn't  think it would happen as soon as they graduated. "I tell her i'm fine and she doesn't believe me. i argue with her all the time about it and it's tiring. Just because my hair isn't done and i'm in the same outfit for a few days something has to be up,"  She knew she hated  repeat outfits, she always made her owns so she didn't have to repeat. "I just thouht you were busy I didn't want to bother you."

"Rory Bishop, outfit repeater?" said Wren, thinking of that old Lizze McQuire episode. Rory was never one to repeat anything, outfits especially. He was sad to hear that she thought he was too busy for her, "I could never be too busy for you, and you could never bother me" Wren clarified. He meant it, he really did.

She sighed, she hadn't even designed anything in the past month. Rory knew she was being distant but it's not like she could really help it. She was scared, she felt guilty like it was her fault like she needed to humble herself." Yeah but I see you with the glow up and I just....I just wanted all the attention on you.'

“Yeah the post breakup glow up, it’s just because I look better without Chanel to compare to me” Wren joked, he wanted to know what was actually going on with his sister. “What have you been working on?” The best way to see Rory’s mental state was to see what her creations were looking like.

The question caught her off guard, she could show him old work but she always dated her stuff, she could of lied but she didn't think she could get away with it. " See the thin is.." she shifted in her spot uncomfortably." I haven't drawn anything in a while." or since the night of the party.

She hadn't been working on anything? Things must be really bad, "Since when?" Wren asked, "When is the last time you drew something or came up with an idea?" he probed. He knew this next few minutes would be tough, but they were important. She needed to let him in, about whatever it was. He was worried it was about Jonah, maybe something had happened with him.

"Does that even matter?" she said defensively." You don't need to design something to be a part of the fashion world." she was angry, but more with herself and less with anyone else.  she was a disappointment, she knew it

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you just love it. So I don't get the sudden change of heart. Is it because you're in school for it now?" Wren asked, grasping at straws. He just didn't know what was going on. Wren didn't want to upset his sister, but she was letting go of her dreams and that was really hard to watch. She never gave up on him, not even after his ED relapse. She was always there.

"No" she stood up and walked o her mini fridge and pulled out a soda and put a shot of vodka in it." You wouldn't understand and as twins we're entitled to one secret and this is mine." He never told her about his ed,she found out with everyone else. So why couldn't she have this.

Wren shook his head, "Yeah I thought I was under control, I didn't think anything was wrong with me" said Wren as he stood up, "I fucked up Ror, it was bad. You're just pushing me out and you do know what's wrong. Why are you even drinking right now?" the boy asked, getting a little frustrated. They were trying to have a conversation, at least he was.

She didn't want to hear anything he had to say, his logic bothered her because he was right.' It's college isn't this what everyone does?" she knew she was pissing him off and part of her hated that but the other half wanted him angry like she was angry

"Yeah but it's your first semester, it's not exactly time for a burn out" said Wren frustratedly, he was so worried about her now. The way she was lashing out, it was just beyond him right now. He knew that things were bad, but there was no why. There just was what there was, "Just tell me what's going on" he insisted.

"I'm not a." she trailed off for a second before getting off her bed, she was pacing, biting her nails. The room felt smaller for some reason and it felt like she couldn't breathe. "You wouldn't understand.." she said not looking at him.

Wren put his hands on her shoulders, "You don't know that unless you tell me things" he said earnestly, his brows furrowing. He just needed to know what he could do for her, it was killing him slowly. He could feel her pain emanating off of her. Wren was desperate for her to be alright.

"Please don't touch me." she said taking a step back from his touch. Rory knew he wouldn't hurt her, he would never hurt but somethin else was in control of her emotions, her mind of her body. "I don't know how!" she yelled. "I don't know how to tell anyone."

Wren put his hands up and off of her, she had never been like this before. Usually they were all up in each other's physical space, especially when comforting. Nana was also very touchy. "Tell anyone what! Just say it Rory! It's me!" said Wren, raising his voice at her. He hated yelling, and he especially hated yelling at her as his voice boomed across the room.

She became angry, angry at herself, angry at the world, and angry at him. Why did he get to be upset, she didn't ask him to come, she didn't ask him to ask all those questions. Why couldn't anyone just leave her alone. 'I was Raped!" tears fell to the floor, she couldn't look at him. She turned away and grabbed the bottle. "You can leave now.' her voice was low

Wren's heart felt like it had completely stopped. How could anyone do this. How could anyone touch her without her permission, what kind of monster was this. "Rory" said Wren in a soft voice, he wanted to hug her. To hold her. But he only knew that would make things so much worse. So very much worse. "Rory please don't ask me to go" he said, bringing his eyes up to meet her. They were filling with tears, but none had fallen yet.

"Don't." she said softly when she heard her name. Her arms wrapping around herself, the softness in his voice was more than she deserved. What was she supposed to do now, now that he knew. It didnt change anything, she still felt dirty. "You don't need to worry , i'm dealing.'

Wren knew better, he always said that he was dealing. It was just the bishop way. "You need to talk to someone, none of this is your fault" said the boy, his eyes betraying him as a tear fell from his eye. "None of this, none of it is your fault. Did you file a title IX? Did you talk to the police?" Wren asked, putting his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.

Rory shook her head, she wanted to believe him. Some part of her did believe him but it felt like it was all wrong. "No, I don't know what that is..I just." she sighed."I just, i was drunk and i should of known better." she had one drink but it felt like she had downed a whole bottle, "Please don't make this a big thing." she pleaded as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Wren hated that excuse, he heard it all the time from girls when things just weren't okay. "There's no excuse for someone elses behavior" said Wren softly, "it's their fault if you were drunk. They made those choices when you couldn't." He felt so strongly about this, and he could hardly bear to hear her talk like this. "I won't make it a big thing if you don't want it to be, it's your place to make it as big of a thing as you want it to be" he added.

Rory sighed collapsing in the middle of the room, she felt so heavy.  She couldn't even to begin  to think why someone would do that to someone else. "I just want this to go away Wren, i want to feel like i did before this happened.  I feel so broken, hopeless. i don't want to feel that anymore." she sobbed." I don't want to feel anything anymore." that came out barely like a whisper.

[chaos-weekly]

extra, extra, read all about it!

Nollie had taken London back to her apartment after she’d picked him up. He was absolutely trashed. She didn’t mind, but she didn’t really enjoy seeing him like that. Drunk men terrified her, and even though she knew London would never hurt her, it didn’t bring around good feelings. But she would take care of him anyway. 

She sat outside the bathroom door while he showered, just in case he fell. She made him drink a full glass of water before bed and had woken up and stayed awake while he went to the bathroom at four in the morning. And when she’d gotten up at six, way before he did, she left a glass of water and a Tylenol on the nightstand for him. He was going to have a nasty hangover. 

Sure, all of these things were thoughtful and loving, but Nollie knew her intentions behind her actions were selfish. One, she needed to prove to him that she was worth sticking around for even after she allowed him to have sex with her, and two, she felt responsible for his wellbeing. The last time she’d left someone to fend for themselves, her brother had died in a house fire. People she cared about got hurt on her watch too often. Nollie wouldn’t let that happen with London.

Bishop had sent her a text around six thirty that said, “URGENT, YOU NEED A NEWSPAPER!!” She’d asked him to bring one over, and he had. While London remained passed out in her bedroom, she shared a pot of coffee and analyzed the tabloids with his best friend. She and London were on the front page, hugging. She knew who has taken the most recent photo, and judging by the fact it was a Snapchat with the caption, “Smh bro, he’s whipped *laughing emoji*,” Nollie doubted Mark, the man in the chair, meant for it to get out. Likely, one of the people he’d sent it to had screenshotted it and sold it to the paparazzi. Nollie wasn’t mad and her manager wasn’t mad (she’d checked, and thank God, Frankie seemed to be basking in the fact that her darling Nollie was with the bad boy of LA), it was only London that she and Bishop knew would be reeling. 

“I can stay until he gets up,” Bishop offered. “Help you break the news to him.”

“No, I can handle it,” she replied, shrugging. “People were going to find out eventually, he’s just going to be pissed at Mark. Which I can deal with.”

Bishop sipped his coffee, nodding and leaning back into the chair. He was still planning on staying, and Nollie didn’t mind. She enjoyed his company, and besides, London wouldn’t be up for a few hours based on how gone he was last night.

“So, why haven’t you had sex yet?” he asked. 

Nollie would have been offended if anyone else asked, but this was Bishop, the man who had single handedly helped her breakup with his other best friend. He was a good friend. So she shrugged and leaned back into the couch.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. I don’t know what London told you about me visiting him yesterday, but….” Nollie trailed off, her cheeks coloring. She could still feel his hands on her, his lips by her ear, the breath sucked out of her as he’d laid her down on his desk. Bishop laughed lightly.

“Clearly not enough, but I don’t need details. The blush is enough. You really want him. So why haven’t you?”

“It just hasn’t felt right? The timing is off? I don’t want to f-k in public the first time?”

“Yeah, that’s not true and we both know it. Except for that last one.” Bishop set his mug down and leaned in, hands clasped in his lap. “So what is it, Nollie?”

“Intimacy issues,” she admitted softly. “I’m scared of how much I want it.”

Bishop nodded like an all-knowing god. He kind of was, though. He was wise and calm, just like how she imagined Buddha or a spirit guide to be. 

“You know it’s natural to want sex. I know it’s been ingrained in your head to not want it, but you’re supposed to. It’s part of life, part of love. It’s part of having a romantic relationship with someone. And London’s falling in love with you, Nollie. He really is, he just doesn’t know that yet and he sure won’t tell you when he does know. But he is. He would have left a girl who wasn’t giving him sex a long time ago if that’s what he really wanted. He’s spent a month and a half with you and he hasn’t seen another girl since he laid eyes on you. He is all yours, Magnolia. Really and truly all yours.”

Nollie swallowed, hit with the reality of her situation. She was absolutely falling for him and London was falling for her, too, probably harder and faster than she was for him. He would do anything she asked of him, even wait for sex, and she felt safe and comfortable around him. So what was she waiting for?

Wanting was not a bad thing.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, then I’m going to let him know I’m ready.” Her stomach had butterflies, and not the pure kind. 

Bishop grinned.

“Keep me posted,” he said, standing up. “And look, you both better be at my exhibit Friday night. And I swear Magnolia, if you haven’t f-ked my best friend by then I’ll tell him everything we just talked about myself.”

Bishop left at eight thirty and Nollie started making cinnamon rolls. She remembered making them with her grandmother when she was little and had carried on the tradition when she moved to LA. Hopefully they would both soften the blow of their relationship going public and sweeten the pot of her willingness to get more physical.

London rolled out of bed around ten, and walked into the living room yawning and stretching. He was wearing the pair of pajama pants he kept at her apartment in the door she’d cleared for him. She had one at his place, but with her new agreement, maybe she needed to keep some nicer undergarments there….

“Good morning,” he said, his morning voice husky and very sexy. His arms wrapped around her waist and he kissed her cheek. Nollie smiled and untangled herself from his arms, continuing to ice the warm cinnamon rolls. She scooped one onto a plate for him and set it at the bar. 

“Eat,” she said, setting a glass of water in front of his spot on a barstool. “I have news.”

“This is sounding promising,” London said sarcastically, sitting down and taking a bite. “But these are amazing. You’re amazing. I don’t think I’ve told you that today.” Nollie rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Well, this isn’t as amazing. Let me preface this by saying I’m not mad or upset or whatever.” London’s face looked like she’d found out his deepest secret, but she brushed it off. He was tired and hungover. Nollie set the tabloids in front of him.

“It was going to happen eventually,” she said quickly, right before London started swearing like his life depended on it.

“I’m going to kill Mark,” he growled, crumpling up the paper. “He’s not getting business from me again. He can absolutely kiss my--”

“London! It’s fine! It’s really fine. Did you think we could keep this a secret forever?”

“No, but it could have definitely come out way later. And it didn’t have to come from one of my clients!”

“He didn’t know what he was doing,” Nollie defended. She’d hardly interacted with Mark, but if he was as loyal of a customer as London had said he was, she doubted he’d do anything to intentionally screw him over. 

“Not everyone can navigate paparazzi and publicity like we can, London.”

“If he’d just thought for five seconds longer--”

“So what? People know. I’m not upset about that, but it kind of feels like you are.” She leaned back on the counter, arms crossed over her chest. 

London was silent, his fuming settling into resignation. 

“I want the world to know about us, Nollie. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I’m not upset that this is public. That we’re public. I’m upset that someone I trust put me in a difficult situation.”

Bishop was right, he was smitten. This was the first time he’d been so serious in admitting his feelings about her, directly to her at least. It made her smile.

“And I’m sure Mark feels awful,” she said quietly, crossing the kitchen to put her elbows on the bar in front of where he sat. Her chin rested in her hands, and she looked at him with soft, warm eyes. 

“I’m still going to give him a hard time,” he replied just as softly, leaning in and kissing her. “I’m going to stick up for you. You’re my girl.”

“Am I?” she whispered against his lips, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. She could see hesitation, a lot of it from what she was sure was the leftover trauma of Kendall’s relationship. But it was gone in a flash, and he kissed her again.

“Officially, if you’d like. I’ve wanted you to be my girlfriend for weeks, Nollie.”

“I’d love that.” She pecked his nose, pulling away and moving back to sit on the counter opposite him. “Now, I have something to tell you.”

“Another thing?” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. “This is a rollercoaster of a morning, Magnolia.”

“I’ll save it for later, if you’d like,” Nollie teased. “But I think you’re going to regret not hearing this now.”

He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s so good that you need to tell me right now, exactly twenty minutes before I need to leave for work?”

Shoot. Nollie forgot about the time. But it was too late, she’d already started and demanded that he listen then and there. Now she had to finish. She swallowed, cheeks already growing pink.

“I’m ready,” she said more confidently than she felt. 

It took London a minute to process, but when he did, a smirk slowly spread across his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a finger to cut him off.

“No, stop, I’m not done. I have a lot of feelings about sex that I need to get out right now or else I never will and I need to not bottle these things up anymore.” Nollie took a deep breath, and London settled back in his seat, still smirking. He gestured for her to go on.

“To be one hundred percent honest, I haven’t had sex in five months. I definitely have a lot of pent up sexual energy that I need to release, and I’ve been able to do so a little bit the past few weeks with you. But I need to apologize because it hasn’t been fair to you to keep turning you on and then shutting you down, even when I’ve wanted to take the next step. It’s just been embarrassing how much I felt like I actually needed to have sex with you instead of the more simple want.” Wow, that was terrifying, and Nollie’s racing heart and red cheeks gave away her fear. London was staring intently at her. But she wasn’t done. 

“I’ve wanted and needed you for a while now, London. I don’t like admitting that because I don’t want to depend on sex to sustain my relationship, but it’s true. I genuinely can’t imagine not being that close to you anymore, and I am going to need you to f-king rail me.” That last bit slipped out of her mouth before she could stop and reevaluate that, but there it was. She wanted to be railed by her now-boyfriend, London Lovell. 

Maybe one say she’d laugh at this situation, but as London made his way towards her, she only wanted this to be a bad dream. His hands slid up her legs and rested on her hips, and she swallowed, meeting his intense gaze.

“I wish you’d told me this when we had more time,” London began, “because now I’m going to be thinking about you all day.” 

And he kissed her. She tasted the cinnamon roll on his lips, smelled her shampoo in his hair, and felt his muscles tighten under her fingers. She’d kissed him plenty of times, but this was the one that took her breath away.

“London,” she sighed softly as he pulled back, and he chuckled, the tension only growing between them.

“I need to go get ready before I cancel all of my appointments,” he muttered, walking backwards out of the kitchen, his eyes never leaving her. Normally Nollie wouldn’t let him miss work for her, but this time she was tempted to let him. She just kept her mouth shut, making herself busy cleaning while he got ready. 

A few minutes later, London had come out of her room ready to go. She met him by the door, and he kissed her cheek. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said lowly, and Nollie blushed again. 

“Wait one minute,” she said, running back into the kitchen and grabbing something from a drawer. Returning, she pressed their extra apartment key into his hand.

“Let yourself in.”