#i think how badly edited it is adds to the charm

[niroke]

[morrak]

Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 141

Patrick Spielman’s Making Wood Decoys, published in 1982 by Sterling Publishing Company.

The How

Found alongside that comedy size chemicals-that-hurt-you book (of which there was sadly only a single volume) on a recent jaunt with @krieper.

The Text

Charm and passion. And ducks.

Spielman really wants you to know that you (yes, you!) can, should, and possibly must make wood decoys. It’s a venerable tradition, you see, and much in demand. Sayeth the intro: ‘this book is essentially for the beginner and the amateur woodworker.’

On its own terms, I think it’s probably quite successful — thorough structure, generous illustration (including a surprising amount of borrowed and attributed corporate imagery), and memorable detail without any major diversions. Several carvers from Door County, Wisconsin are roundly thanked in the intro, which tracks; this has the feel and tone of a very patiently pooled effort. The author’s photos of their work (I’m pretty sure these are his, anyway; they’re the only things not credited to someone else) are absolutely lavish, all things considered.

I have never handled a book that more badly wanted to be a YouTube channel. Mr. Spielman would’ve loved telling people to like and subscribe for more earnest and grainy and sometimes violent-looking but always well edited decoy content.

The Object

Almost lovely. Styled nicely and well printed, though the binding is no better than you’d expect from a craft book. The weak link by far is the paper — lots of spotting on and transfer from the color leaves, and there’s global yellowing besides. A predictable shame.

The combination of fonts on display (at least two ITC joints, though maybe more; I can’t be bothered to ID them) is right up the middle. It adds to it.

The Why, Though?

Not for the book itself, really. It does have some features I like: ducks; the only credit to a typist (the author’s daughter) I’ve ever seen; mid-century tool catalog insets; a curlew; showpieces from a group of dudes who may or may not have credit anymore outside of archived magazines or event fliers. Noteworthy points all, but none especially justify the shelf space.

The real reason I bought this was for the scrap of flier still tucked into the front matter, complete with ITC Benguiat (nice). Graphic design was someone’s passion. If ever something belongs in the to-be-framed-once-I-have-safe-shop-space collection, this does.

[animasola86]

The Darkness Within (Smut Edition) - Light

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x Tom Riddle

Summary: When Genevieve dies at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Sebastian is driven mad with grief and sees only one way out of it: he has to bring her back, no matter what. He goes down the darkest path imaginable and in the end, it works, but not as he imagined - as he is suddenly transported to 62 years into the future. As is the love of his life. Until they finally meet again, both of them go down the opposite ends of the moral meter: one becomes an Auror and the other is charmed and influenced by none other than Tom Riddle, who is on the verge of gathering more and more people for his cause. Will they be able to rekindle their love, now that they are mortal enemies?

Genre: Angst/Smut/Dark!Romance

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Auror vs Death Eater. Manipulation. Fluff.

Read more on AO3

If you're here for some smut+, please keep reading. If you like to know how they ended up like this, please read the previous chapters right here.

Excerpt of Chapter 7:

Why did she forget?

Her head started hurting as she kept screwing up her eyes, thinking hard. It didn't matter, did it? Tom's voice echoed inside her head. It doesn't matter, he had said. And he was right, of course he was. She should just get rid of this Auror and be done with it. But somehow she couldn't. Something drew her towards him, she couldn't help it. She started breathing heavier and shook her head, slowly walking towards the bed, sitting down and groaning loudly as she buried her face in her hands.

“Genevieve,” she heard his soft voice. “Genevieve, please. Let me help you.”

“How could you possibly help me?” she muttered into her palms.

“I could hold you, I could be there for you. You are not alone in this. I don't belong in this timeline either.” His voice was soothing and warm and she started to really like to hear him talk. As for what he said, she remained doubtful.

For one, she didn't need help. She had been fine these last years, she had enjoyed her life and the place and the purpose Tom Riddle had given her. It had filled her up completely. But then came this man, and from the shadows from which he had watched her he had lodged himself into her thoughts and was trying to claw himself into her heart as well, with his memories and his sad eyes and his deep voice. Telling her about a former life, a former love.

She breathed deeply and lowered her hands, slowly looking back to him. When she reached into her pocket and drew her wand, she saw him flinch a little. Her eyes lingered on him for another moment, before she looked at the rope wrapped around his chest. “Finite,” she whispered and watched how the ropes disappeared.

“Go then, report me, add me to your list,” she muttered, twirling her wand between her fingers, staring at it as if it might hold all the answers. “Do whatever you have to do. I don't care any more.”

She heard him get up from the chair and listened, but instead of him putting his clothes back on or straight up leaving through the door, he took two steps towards her and in the next moment he had pulled her to her feet and pressed her against his naked chest, holding her tightly. She gasped against him.

“What are you doing?” she breathed almost soundlessly.

“What I have to do,” he replied quietly, pulling her even closer by holding the back of her head with one hand and her lower back with the other.

His touches were warm and reassuring and she couldn't help but lean into them. She could feel his love radiating from him like heat from an open fire. He was so sure about his feelings for her, even after she had trampled it with her boots and her darkness. And she wished with all she had left that she could feel the same way. She wanted to love so badly.

She realized that was one thing she had missed those last seven years. Tom had been there for her, sure, accepting and comforting, but he never loved her the way she thought she had loved him. And perhaps it wasn't love, but gratitude she had felt towards him, perhaps a little crush because of his attention, but it hadn't been love. Tom Riddle couldn't love, she knew that somehow.

And suddenly she knew: she had loved before. Really loved, unconditionally loved someone, with all her heart, with all her being, with her entire soul. She must have, otherwise why was she longing for a feeling she had never experienced before? Why was she craving the touches of another man, a man she had only met today even, how was any of this possible if not for love? A long forgotten love...

She took a shuddering breath and placed her hands against his chest, gently pushing him away to look up at him. He was so freakishly tall compared to her. His eyes met hers and she looked long and hard at him, forcing the memories to come back. But of course that didn't work. Yet she was willing to try harder.

While her heart started to beat a little faster inside her chest, she kept pushing him backwards until he was sitting in the chair again. He raised an eyebrow at her, but neither complained nor protested. “No more ropes, please.” was all he said with a quiet chuckle.

She smiled at him and shook her head. “Don't worry. I want you to use your hands,” she replied in a low voice and started unclasping her cloak. It quickly joined his clothes on the floor and when she started unbuttoning her blouse, he suddenly stood up and walked towards her with helping hands. “No, not yet! Please, just sit and enjoy the show, alright?” she smirked and he complied, watching her with a curious little smile.

When she pulled the last button from its loop, she inhaled deeply and let her chest open her blouse for her, revealing the tight corset-type bodice she was wearing beneath. Her index finger ran all the way from the top down the long row of hooks until the stiff fabric met her belt, and she smirked pleasantly when she noticed his eyes following the movement. Slowly she started to undo the hooks (rather happy about the fact that fashion had gotten more convenient over the years, no more lacing and far less layers) and then she shook her hips slightly and the sleeveless corset simply slid down her curves and fell to the ground behind her, leaving her chest and stomach bare and unconstrained.

She decided to leave the black satin blouse on, for one she liked the feeling of the soft fabric on her skin, also she really didn't want him to see her left forearm. There would be a time and place for that revelation, but it wasn't now.

Walking closer to him, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him gently against the back of the chair, before she sat down on his lap and watched him closely. His eyes couldn't decide between staring at her face and down at her newly exposed breasts and she smiled when she saw the little red splotches on his cheeks. “You can touch them, if you want,” she whispered and licked her lips. He looked at her, his eyes asking if it really was okay, and when she nodded, he raised a hand and gently closed his large palm around one of her breasts, firmly squeezing them.

“You've grown so much,” he muttered a little breathlessly and she laughed. “In all the right places anyway.” She laughed even more at that.

She watched him with a warm smile as he kept fondling her breasts, cupping them gently to groping them a little harder, his fingers grazing her soft skin and teasing the little buds peaking up ever so slightly. He was surprisingly kind in his movements, despite the hungry look inside his brown eyes. She let him continue his exploration of her chest a little longer, sighing deeply at his touches, before she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.

When she let her tongue slide gingerly over her lower lip as she stared at him, she noticed his eyes wandering towards her mouth, and without another word, they both leaned in at the same time and met in a passionate kiss. His hands moved up to her face and his long fingers dug into her hair, while his thumbs caressed her cheeks as he deepened the kiss by firmly pushing his tongue into her mouth. She mirrored his movements, forcing her jaw against his, really fighting for dominance over who could explore the other's mouth first.

Her hands found his messy hair and she grabbed it almost forcefully as he groaned into her mouth. While still glued to his lips, held by his hands, she sat up in a weird crouch and put her legs on either side of him, straddling him to get even closer. Her chest pushed against his and she really leaned into the kiss, feeling light-headed and eager for more at the same time. Her heart was accelerating fast and she couldn't help but feel very, very pleased with herself and the world around her.

He certainly had a way of making a girl feel special.

And she wished even more she could remember him. Sighing breathlessly against him, her arms lazily crossed behind his head as she leaned against him and into the kiss, a sudden warmth crossed her heart and this whole situation felt weirdly familiar, like a déjà-vu. Was it because she wanted to remember it or did she actually remember something like this? She didn't know and she didn't concern herself too much with it, instead she kissed him more and deeper and let her mind wander, as she focused on the urges of her body.

When his hands grabbed her waist and kneaded her skin gently, she leaned back slightly, trying to catch her breath as her lips hovered above his, her eyes meeting his in a heated gaze. “Want to take this somewhere else?” she whispered sultry, her voice a little hoarse.

He smiled widely at her and suddenly he stood, grabbing her rear in the process, lifting her up easily as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and she laughed and felt like a teenager again, far away from the worries of the world. His mouth found her neck as he carried her towards the bed and gently sat her down on the edge. There she sat, her legs trembling a little under the anticipation, and watched him closely. His hands found her thighs and as he knelt down in front of her, he squeezed them lightly, then pushed her legs apart.

Her trousers felt even tighter than they already were and she couldn't wait to be freed of them. But he wouldn't help her with that just yet. Instead his hands slid up and down her thighs, his long fingers grazing the outer edge, while his thumbs caressed the more sensitive inner side. She leaned back on her arms and watched him, her chest rising and falling faster. His eyes were on her face the entire time and she blushed slightly under the intense desire in his gaze.

He smiled softly and his hands moved upwards, until his thumbs gently pressed against her centre. She felt the blood pumping violently against the tightness of her trousers, her middle positively aflame already. He breathed harder when he started moving his index finger up and down the tight fabric, pushing it firmly against her, activating all the nerves waiting to be stimulated beneath. She let out a soft moan and arched her head back, closing her eyes in the process.

He rubbed her for a moment longer, while one of his hands moved up to her belt. With quick, capable fingers he unbuckled it, then started to unbutton her trousers. As she leaned against his touch, slightly grinding her hips against the firm pressure of his finger, his now free hand moved up and closed around her right breast, squeezing it demandingly. She exhaled loudly and looked at him, biting her lip. He looked right back, his gaze dark and intense.

As if communicating without words, he then grabbed her waist firmly with both hands and in the next moment, as she lifted her body up a little, he pushed her trousers off her hips and down her legs, his hands following the curve of her body. As the fabric gathered around her shins, he looked down and chuckled deeply. “Should have thought about the boots,” she heard him mutter and she laughed lightly. He quickly unlaced her leather boots and threw them through the room once he had pulled them off, then continued removing her trousers.

And then she sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but her satin blouse covering her shoulders and arms. He looked at her, still crouched in front of her, and raised an eyebrow. “No panties, huh?” he commented and she smiled slyly, slowly crossing her legs and leaning them away from him. “Oh, no need to be modest now, darling,” he smirked and gently, but firmly grabbed her thighs, loosening them and pulling them apart again as he stood up and leaned over her. One of his hands found her face and he pulled her towards him for a quick, but heated kiss, leaving her breathlessly and wanting more.

“Say, you told me we were close, real close, right?” she asked quietly as he leaned back again and watched her curiously. “Have we...” She didn't have to finish the question and he nodded softly. “We have.” She looked at him and felt a little overwhelmed by all the sensations coursing through her body, mostly by how her heart fluttered with him so close. “Can you talk me through our... first time?” she then asked in a whisper and he frowned a little at that, but then smiled warmly. “Of course,” he said and sat down next to her on the bed.

His arm wrapped around her shoulder as he pulled her against his side and she cradled against him as if she really belonged there. It certainly felt like it. Her body fit perfectly against his. She looked up. “Well, needless to say we were very nervous. Both of us had never done it before,” he said in a low tone, his voice vibrating through her body as he spoke. She absorbed every word. “But I knew you trusted me and vice versa and then we just... started touching each other.” He laughed a little nervously and she smiled at the innocent sound.

“Like how?” she pressed and bit her lip.

“Like this...” he replied and his hand moved down her stomach between her legs.

He didn't hesitate at all when he cupped his entire palm around her warm centre, his long fingers grazing her soft folds and his thumb gently stroking the blush of hair above it. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, leaning against him. He continued touching her most sensitive area, his hand moving up and down slowly, gently pressing and squeezing and rubbing. She felt her warmth pooling just behind his touch and when he started moving individual fingers through her folds, she heard just how warm and wet she was down there from the almost vulgar noises his movements caused. A moan escaped her and she had to snake her arm around his waist to hold onto him, her fingernails digging into his firm skin.

He turned his head and kissed her cheek, distracting her from the fact that he started to press his fingertips firmly against her entrance. She looked up and kissed him back, then her lips found his and while she pressed her tongue into his mouth, he pressed one finger into her. She moaned loudly against him as he moved his digit deeper and deeper, curling it slightly as he moved his hand down to angle it better against her. While he did that, she could feel his thumb moving around the little bundle of nerves inches away from where his finger was exploring her insides, and when he pressed against it firmly, she actually flinched and squeaked against his mouth.

She had already been so worked up that a single touch had been enough to make her heart jump against her chest at the sensation. He rubbed her quicker and she breathed against him heavily, her free hand clawing at the bed sheets beside her. He slipped another finger inside her and kept a steady pace of moving his digits in and out of her, gently stretching her as he did so. She moaned against him and kissed him breathlessly, holding onto him helplessly as he worked her centre.

Just before she felt her insides convulsing slightly, as the first wave of pleasure came crashing down on her hard, he retrieved his fingers and even let go of her as he slipped off the bed and knelt down between her legs. She stared at him restlessly, her chest rising and falling fast as she watched him. His eyes darted up and the intensity of his gaze made her blush deeply. He looked about ready to devour her. And when he did, she fell flat on her back and kicked her legs around him. His face was pressed tightly to her centre, his mouth glued to the bundle of nerves, his tongue licking and sucking on the sensitive skin, pushing up folds and really going down on her nub as if there was nothing else in the world.

She moaned loudly as he slipped his fingers back inside, going from one straight to three this time, and he pumped his hand back and forth, in and out, in a steady, fast rhythm, the new angle causing her to shiver deeply as moan after moan slipped from her open mouth. Her hands felt around helplessly and one found the top of his head and she forcefully grabbed his hair, pushing him down even further as she rocked her hips against him. Stars danced behind her eyelids as she pressed herself into the mattress, her legs trembling against his shoulders, her toes curling up violently.

The high came like a herd of trampling horses, like the screeching of a boiling tea kettle, like a flock of crows dispersing into the night with a frantic flutter. His mouth was hot on her skin and his fingers worked tirelessly against her and she felt him spreading them inside, stretching her walls as her orgasm clenched them around him. She was still riding the high, her hips grinding slowly, her hands falling loosely to her sides, her whole body twitching in pleasure, when his touches suddenly disappeared.

Before she could question his loss, she heard the rustle of fabric and then he was leaning over her, his face so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her lips, and when she lazily opened an eye, she saw him smiling. The next moment he had pushed himself deeply into her still convulsing channel and she moaned loudly at the sensation. Her hands found his back and she dug her fingernails into his skin as he positioned himself above her, leaning on his arms as he kept moving his hips against her, slow at first, really slow as he slid really deep, with her walls still contracting around him, before he fell into a steady rhythm and every thrust caused her to groan deeply.

His own rapid breaths hit her cheek as she turned her face to the side, trying to breathe through the sensations, with her heart drumming against her ribcage and her entire body tensed and relaxed at the same time. It was a constant up and down between the tiniest of pains as he drove himself really deep and fast into her, and the biggest of pleasures when he moved away again. She somehow found the strength to lift her legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, the movement causing him to slip even further in as she pressed him tighter against her.

His deep moan echoed inside her head, and she opened her eyes and looked at him and was surprised and a little shocked to see him watching her closely, his brown eyes half-lidded, but never leaving her face. His lips were parted and he was really working all the muscles in his body. She relaxed her grip on his shoulders and gently snaked her arms back to place her hands around his face, pulling him closer to her for a passionate kiss. Soon they just pressed their foreheads together and breathed loudly against each other as their steady rhythm made the headboard of the bed slam against the wall behind it.

When she felt the next wave of pleasure approaching (or was it still the first one and she kept on riding it? She didn't know and she didn't care...), she held onto his neck and moaned into his mouth, rocking her hips up against him quickly, crossing her feet behind his back to keep him in place. She felt the pleasure spread from where their bodies were tightly connected, her walls convulsing almost painfully around him, her breaths erratic, barely sounding human at this point any more. She held onto him and when she reached the peak, she let out a deep, soft scream, arching her back into the mattress, pulling his upper body forcefully against hers, his weight only adding to the sensation as he fell on top of her.

Their lower bodies continued their rhythm, as his hands found the sides of her face and he gently caressed her cheeks, despite the rapid motion of his hips. She leaned up and kissed him deeply, savouring every little touch and taste of him. When her heart had slowed down enough for her to be able to move a little more again, she looked into his eyes and smirked, then, with a swift sideways motion, she used the weight of his body to roll around on the bed until his back was pressed to the mattress and she sat up on top of him, his length driving up into her with yet another painful, yet blissful sensation.

She leaned her head back and her long hair fell over her shoulders as she issued a loud moan, her knees firmly placed on either side of his waist as she started to move up and down slowly, her breasts bouncing slightly with every movement. She watched him closely as he stared at her out of dark, lustful eyes. His hands found her hips and he kneaded the soft flesh firmly as he helped her move against him. The more she was grinding against him, the more familiar this whole encounter felt. Eerily familiar. As if they had never done anything else. She smiled at the thought and tried to imagine the teenagers they used to be, exploring each other's body at any given moment.

Her hands moved up his chest and she felt the way the muscles tensed inside his abdomen as he worked his hips against her, and she felt his rapid heartbeat as she pressed her palms onto his skin, and when she closed a hand around his throat she felt him swallowing hard against the sensation. Her fingers tightened around his neck and she looked at him hungrily and he looked back just as ravenously as he licked his lips and bared his teeth to her when she squeezed his throat. She smiled darkly and when his breath halted, she felt his arms loosen their grip on her hip, but instead of gasping for air, he suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, her elbows pressed against his chest as he started pumping up into her forcefully.

She quickly melted into the sensation and couldn't do anything but moan, her fingers helplessly grazing the skin of his neck as he held her close, working through his last remaining strength frantically as his own moans became louder around her. He was close, she could tell, and she tried her best to help get to where she had been a couple of times now. Their hips moved rapidly against each other, every thrust causing her to whimper and moan, her vision blurry from all the air that went out but not in. He groaned deeply as he pressed his body against hers, his arms in a deadlock around her, his motions became frantic and devilishly fast – and then a shudder broke from the middle of his body and he halted abruptly, and she felt him twitch within her, his warmth quickly spreading inside of her, filling her up completely.

He slowly resumed his pumping motion, his head resting on her shoulder as he did so, as both their bodies shivered through the sensations. His breath was hot and erratic and she moved her hands around him and gently stroked his back in soothing circles, leaning against him, savouring the last moments before they eventually had to come down from their highs again. His movements slowed and she heard him sigh deeply, then his lips were pressed against her shoulder. And then he just slumped backwards, falling onto the bed with a heavy thud, and as she was still holding him, she fell with him and laughed softly as she rocked against him one more time.

They remained lying like this for a long moment, while her midst was still twitching viciously and his length was still warm within her. Her legs felt a little numb. His hands wandered up her body then and firmly grabbed onto her rear, gently kneading the soft flesh, his long fingers pulling her cheeks apart slightly as they did so. She chuckled at his inability to just relax and leaned up a little to look at him. He was watching her out of tired, half-lidded eyes and when she smiled at him with her cheeks blushed deeply, he smirked back at her.

She leaned down to kiss him softly, her lips slowly moving from his cheeks to his jawline and over to his earlobe. There she planted a couple of small kisses and then whispered: “Thank you for this, Sebastian.”

He stopped his kneading of her rear and froze. “Did you remember?”

She inhaled deeply, kissed his earlobe again and nuzzled her nose against his hair. “No,” she then said honestly, feeling his sigh long before she heard it. “But I wish I would. I am clearly missing out on more of this...”

He laughed quietly at her answer and she knew he was disappointed, but when he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her closely, she felt like he started to accept it.

(Read more on AO3)

Another little excerpt (Chapter 6) can be found here.

Pictures credit: @sebswebs (Sebastian) @the-slytherin-paramour (Sebastian) @esolean (Tom) @zimmerfarn (redhead)

Notes:

I had a little chat with @seabass-swallows Auror Sebastian chat bot and he inspired me to write this story. Thank you for tickling my creative juices!

With one eye closed you could also see this as the (possible) sequel to my very slow-burn, fluffy, tame af HL re-write story Diary of a Snake Lover (this fic does reference some parts of it).

[metanarrates]

What you wrote about letting the Poster in your mind die struck a cord in me. Lately when I'm writing I can't help but censor myself & add a tone of irony to it & lampshade cliches. Do you have any advice on how to write earnestly? Do you have any favorite media that is written with sincerity you would suggest?

my opinion is that if you're trying to cut out your own urges to be ironic and detached DURING the process of writing, you may end up overly scrutinizing your writing while it's happening, and that's usually what gets you too trapped in your own head to even get many words out. my advice is to simply let it happen in the first draft of whatever you come up with, and then have it be one of the things you look for while going over it in editing. ask yourself when you edit: am I saying what I actually want to say? am I being ironic for a reason, or is it because I don't know how to write anything else? can I try to do something less ironic? if I feel like I want to write something funny, can I come up with jokes that aren't "hey look at this cliche?"

above all else, when editing your own work, I find it valuable to think about whether this is the sort of story you really want to tell. if you feel passionate about it, why do you find it necessary to censor yourself? and if you find that you don't feel passionate about it, maybe you should restructure the work to make it more enjoyable to you. of course, not every scene in a story is fun to write, and not every moment of irony or lampshading is necessarily a bad thing. but if you find that irony is becoming a major habit in a work, it might be worth thinking about whether or not you're actually enjoying your own story.

as for the sincere media - most good media is very sincere! i actually think irony poisoning is the exception rather than the rule, though it is common enough in big blockbusters and the like that I do feel I have to complain about it. I would say most works I've read and enjoyed have been quite sincere. there's good stuff out there if you look.

that said, the works that come to my mind as being particularly upfront in their sincerity are:

mob psycho 100 - you've probably heard of this one. middle schooler with psychic powers and a severe case of emotional repression dispels a lot of ghosts with his con artist mentor and also figures out how to be a more well-adjusted person. mp100 has had a LOT of very eloquent reviews, so I won't say too much about it. it's just an extremely funny and shockingly emotionally resonant work.

witch hat atelier - absolutely gorgeous manga about a little girl who becomes an apprentice witch after discovering that magic is not exclusive to those who were born witches as she thought, but instead a teachable skill that has deliberately been kept in the hands of a few. the art in this is stellar, and its moments of horror are just as well-captured as its moments of gentleness. one of the themes of witch hat atelier is the beauty of art/magic and the joy an artist finds in its creation, and the artwork of the manga REALLY reinforces this theme. it's beautiful to look at and there's a quality of sincere love for both the work itself and its audience that suffuses the manga. though I will give a general tw for child harm - another major theme of the story is the responsibility adults, particularly teachers, have towards children, and this theme necessitates showing the ways that children can be harmed by teachers, as well as showing the ways that a good teacher can affect a child. it's very good!

omniscient reader's viewpoint: this one is LONG (over a million words) but is a great example of what I would call "post-cringe." a guy ends up seeing the events of his favorite fantasy-apocalypse action novel be recreated around him, and is determined to survive in this world where only he knows everything. one of the most charming things about orv, to me, is that the novel read by the main character is pretty obviously "cringe." it's a badly written escapist webnovel that is sometimes overly edgy, relies a lot on clichés, and can be very dense. the story points out sometimes how facts of the novel's world are kind of stupid or contrived. and yet, our protagonist loves that novel, and the story VERY much validates his love of it. despite him having at times a little bit of that ironic detachment towards the novel he loves, it's always clear that he thinks the cool monsters etc. are The Shit and that he is enthralled by the events playing out around him. the writing leans into how cool its setting and set pieces can be. hell, one of the big themes is how a story, no matter what kind of story it is, can mean everything to the reader who loves it. it's a good example of a work that can poke fun at its own clichés sometimes WHILE still loving those cliches and wanting the audience to enjoy those exact clichés.

again, there's a lot of good stuff out there! these are just my picks for having notable sincerity. if you read a lot, chances are that you will find a lot of great, earnest work. personally, I would recommend figuring out what genre you enjoy reading or watching, and then trying out some highly rated works in that genre. it's a great way to try out shit you haven't tried before! I would also recommend trying out stuff from 15 or more years ago, generally, if you're looking at more mainstream novels, movies, and TV series rather than specific genre fiction. the irony poisoning problem wasn't so prevalent then.

hope this helps!

edit: I FORGOT EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE. please watch eeaao, it's a deeply sincere and whimsical piece of art

[afterthegreatunknown]

beatrice baudelaire

my initial impression of them: More or less, from the first dedication alone, "Oh, okay. I guess you're important to this Lemony guy? What do you have to do with these three kids?"

my impression of them now: A woman who is so utterly important in ways I never expected and grown to love over the course of the series, more as their mother than as 'Beatrice'. Not really flesh out in my headcanons, but I do have thoughts on her to where I can say I adore her, and she's a top tier character on my list.

platonic ship(s): Oh, I have many platonic ships for Beatrice! She's just a charming and magnetic person, almost anyone will find themselves liking her and call her a friend or associate instantly, even if they talked to one another twice.

The top three though, are Beatrice and Olaf (I could talk about how Beatrice and Olaf are close in my headcanons, and that the Opera Night almost destroyed her as much as it actually destroyed Olaf), Beatrice and Bertrand (I feel they were legit friends with one another that blossomed into more), and Beatrice and Kit (started out as a minor 'big sister mentor' angle on Beatrice's side, since I headcanon her on the younger side).

romantic ship(s): Beatrice and Lemony (OTP), Beatrice and Bertrand (OTP), Lemonberry Ice (OT3), Beatrice and Kit (in a 'both are fools for thinking the other don't see each other in the romantic sense' angle), Beatrice and R (100% were each other first kiss in their pre-teen years and feelings linger for a bit, especially on R's end), and Beatrice and Esme (in an 'strangers to friends to enemies with benefits' angle'.)

unpopular opinion: The theory that implies Beatrice survived the Baudelaire Fire rubs me the wrong way. I personally feel Beatrice isn't the sort to let the legit series of unfortunate events claiming her children's live play out. Beatrice would 100% try to get to her children no matter the cost, badly injured and in bandages be damn. Her love for them overpowers everything else.

WIP info or screenshot involving them: I make Beatrice make an egg pun in a still in the editing process stage ficlet.

what i associate them with: Bats flying on a full moon, red dragonflies hovering over a body of water, and an empty spotlight on a decorated stage waiting for its performer to arrive.

@tangentiallly thank you for the ask! I legit don't talk a lot about Beatrice, mostly because so many people in the fandom does it and in ways I feel I can't really add onto as a discussion, so this gave me that chance to say all my thoughts about her.

[futureforged]

It’s too damn early in the morning & I’m just thinking on how Jayce likely had to do a lot of interviews through out his life. He’s not new to them but I keep thinking on how easily he rose to the status of ‘Piltover’s Golden Boy’ — say what you want but I stand by the idea he is charming, & definitely incredibly endearing with how genuine he is. It’s got an allure to it, with how he holds himself. He’s large & intimidating, he should be intimidating, but his sheepish yet respectful demeanour especially in his earlier years definitely won over a lot of people. He’s got a natural skill with disarming people with how friendly & sweet he is & I can see it surprising people because of the curiosity it incites.

In his later years I can definitely see him slipping more into a roguish, flirty sort of mask to charm people, where with his age, grown cynicism that leaves him more alert & aware, along with his experience being in the spotlight for so long, he has learned how to almost weaponize his charm & better use it to read/interact with people.

ANYWHO— yeah I keep thinking I wanna write a mini drabble or make a fake magazine interview edit where he gets to gush or go into detail ( LORE TIME BABY! ) about his family’s business with black smithing & what led him into his ‘revolutionary’ passion to invent & take the scholar route over follow what was expected of him. I just know he would use that opportunity to shine & push his father’s name into the spotlight, along with credit his mother as his support since family does seem to be a huge thing he would lean into. Also just … think about it! Man almost lost everything with the explosion that started it all, his family name would have been tarnished had he not gone with Viktor to prove it was something possible.

I know that also plays a part in why he’s so eager initially to soak up the spotlight & use it to his advantage. I also have so so many thoughts on how he likely tried to nudge Viktor out along with him because in his eyes, it’s all only possible because of his efforts & made a reality through his help. Once more I’m circling back around but he’s got a very naive/far too hopeful worldview, but I think it again adds to his charm in an inspirational sort of way at the start. Can also lead to why the reception when he is taken into the council & things start to heat up sours so badly.

There is a hugeeeee chance for his public image to falter & shift before it kind of stubbornly refuses to die & ugh I can feel it in my bones that possibly in Arcane S2? He is going to be pushed into a situation where he will make a choice he hates/despises, named a hero despite him strongly disagreeing & likely that’s what leads to him holing away in his labs, growing more tired & depressed / snarkishly sarcastic, along with becoming more avoidant of being caught up in the public eye unless he’s forced to. Situations like that I could only see him putting on that mask when he’s at a gala, an event or called for an invention unveiling in the future.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #549

Top Ten Relaxing Games

Sometimes when you play a game you want to really get into it, get your blood pumping, get all riled up. And sometimes you don’t; sometimes you just want to chill out for a bit and relax. Turns out there’s an app for that.

Well, by “app” I mean game, although generally speaking most consoles treat them the same nowadays, so we might as well go with it. because as I get older I do find that I increasingly use games to wind down. Either I’m playing some intense narrative game – yer Halos, Mass Effects, Hellblades and whatnot – or I’m just after something to while away a few minutes (cough-hours-cough) and give me happy feelings. And what’s great is, increasingly, there are loads of games that do just that.

When I was a kid, I think I did seek out similar experiences, but in slightly different ways. I used to play the “Practice” mode on Lemmings 2, which allowed you to dick about with a bunch of different Lemmings and different skillsets with no real objective. Nowadays I guess this would be a “sandbox” mode. As I got older, I got into level editing, which I think gave me that same relaxing vibe but also scratched a creative itch. Duke Nukem, Half-Life, and Red Alert were the big ones for me, especially when I discovered I could change the rules for the latter game and have nuclear-capable tanks or artillery capable of firing across half the map.

Nowadays, everything seems way more complicated (the move into 3D was not kind on me) so these sorts of crafting activities – even Minecraft, if I’m honest – just seem slightly beyond what I have the time to understand. So it’s other, more gamified, relaxing pursuits I’m after.

Now, I’ve listed a bunch here, but one thing that I’ve not done is include the games I put on to chill out, but which I guess aren’t necessarily relaxing. I mean, I find just tootling round Halo – whether the campaign or multiplayer – to be an enjoyable way to decompress and kill time. But sometimes, I must concede, it does get me agitated and wound up and stressed, the way you might get heightened over a Game of Sports if your Team was Doing Well or Badly. So I might think I’m playing it to relax, but is it really relaxing? And if I’m straining the fibres of my brain to solve a puzzle, is that relaxing? I’ve decided no; I’ve decided only to include games that really do make me feel calm and peaceful after playing them.

So absolutely positively no Overcooked.

Sid Meier’s Civilization VI (PC/Xbox, from 2016): this is just zen gaming for me at this point. The flow of the turns, each tiny cumulative step along the timeline, it’s mesmerising. It sucks me in, enveloping me like a blanket. True, it can get tense if you’re up against the odds, but this is hardcore comfort gaming.

Unpacking (PC/Xbox, 2021): absolutely zero stress unless you really cock up an item’s placement, this is a supremely mellow shelf-stacking game-cum-visual novel. No pressure, no time limit, and often no wrong answers. The bright pixel art graphics add to its charming, friendly vibe.

Stardew Valley (Xbox, 2016): I’ll admit that the pressures of farming – the physical labour, the hassle of selling produce, the constant tick-tock time constraints of the seasons – may give the game a mild underlying tension. But the freedom of the game, especially when you get good at it, allows of a really chilled-out playtime. Casually chat to people, explore the mines, gather some wood coz you’re building a barn… so many avenues of exploration, and by and large it’s devoid of serious threat.

Carcassonne (various formats, from 2007): the actual boardgame can induce some heightened emotions as your loved ones outfox you and ruin your pretty cities, but the way I play the videogame is all chill. Basically I play it as a local multiplayer but take on both roles. I’ve created my own set of rules (eg you can’t steal farms, each person has their own land) and I just dole out the tiles and see how it goes. Absolutely massive comfort blanket of a game.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons (Switch, 2020): probably the only stress here comes from trying to catch a wasp without getting stung on the cornea. Generally speaking, it’s as mellow as it’s possible for a game to get; meander round a scenic paradise island, talking bollocks with cryptids, and selling apples so you can build a basement or a bridge. The dictionary definition of relaxation. So chill it singlehandedly saved the world from Covid.  

Townscaper (PC/Xbox, 2021): there’s nothing to do but plonk down bits of buildings as you craft an impossible melange of seaside town and Mobius painting. delightful, evocative design – all seagulls and nautical noises – and a pleasing feedback loop of construction. Absent-minded doodling as a strategy game.

Mario + Rabbids: Kingdom Battle (Switch, 2017): I’ve not included many strategy titles or really any kind of wargames on here, as the threat of battle induces tension and stress and stops games being quite so blissed out. But here, despite some genuinely tricksy levels and opponents, things feel really mellow most of the time. Maybe because it’s relatively easy to get through at least once, but also perhaps the primary hues of the Mushroom Kingdom just make even a bitter defeat easier to swallow.

Slay the Spire (PC/Xbox, 2019): again, you could argue that striving for the top without dying induces tension, but I find the slow, steady consideration of which cards to play intensely relaxing. Calmly judging an enemy’s strength and power against your hand, with no time pressures, makes it a game to slowly savour and one which – despite repeated deaths – is never truly stressful.

Forza Horizon 5 (Xbox, 2021): one of very few even vaguely action-based games on here, what I love about the Horizon series isn’t necessarily the races – with all their nail-biting jockeying for position – but rather the serene beauty of the great outdoors. 5 is probably the best on balance, but it could be any; carelessly barrelling over hills, scattering random flora to the wind, your vehicle of choice getting dirtier and more buckled. And if you really cock up? Rewind time and it never happened! Joyful, consequence-free exhilaration; that can be relaxing too.

Red Dead Redemption 2 (Xbox, 2018): potentially left-field choice here – I could have had Peggle 2, I guess, or even Microsoft Solitaire – but there’s something about the languid pace of the game and its pristine, immaculate, beautiful rendition of the American West that makes it somehow calming in between the gunfights. You don’t so much walk in this game as mosey. A long, relaxing drink after a hard day; that’s Red Dead.

Just bubbling under was Ooblets, which I’ve only recently started playing. Its combination of light Spire-style card battling, and whimsical, Stardew-esque farming/relationship management, suggests it might be a future contender for "excellent relaxing game". But I just don’t think I’ve quite played enough of it yet for it to be part of the list.

Oh, and did consider doing something to commemorate the end of the Elizabethan era… in fact, I might do a few things. But I thought jumping straight in, only a couple of days after she’s passed, was a bit crass and felt like chasing a hearse. So, out of respect for the departed, I will be making at least one list to celebrate her reign and just, y’know, place a flag in the sand to recognise the importance of this event, but I’ve chosen not to publish it this weekend.

[blzzrdstryr]

Darling escaping - Mondstadt girls edition

Inspired by a request I got, will do edition for other characters in the future.

Starring: Amber, Eula, Jean, Lisa, Rosaria

Reader is gender neutral

CW: Yandere themes, confinement, drugging

Amber

It’s highly unlikely that Amber will confine you, but if it reaches that point, then she will try to be as understanding as possible. Being kidnapped is hard and stressful, it’s OK if you hit and yell at her, she gets you, you’re scared and anxious, she will let it slide.

The same goes for any failed escape attempts, Amber will maintain that sweet-saccharine-I-am-not-mad-at-you-please-stop-crying-and-screaming persona very well. She will be very mad of course, partially at you, mostly at herself.

She keeps you confined in the cottage in the middle of the forest - Amber, unlike you, has a vast experience of navigating among the wilderness, so she can almost always recapture you with ease, years spent tracking and hunting lending well in her search.

You will have to be quick and clever if you want to escape - you can’t dwell in one place for too long, nor can you leave any mark in hurry - Amber will use them to deduce your path and location.

You will also have to avoid major cities and settlements - Knights of Favonius have a good reputation and Amber is known for her upstanding nature, she can lie to locals that you’re dangerous escaped criminal or confused and troubled victim who wandered to far for their own good, and have you presented on the platter.

Once she drags you back, she will start to think about escape-proofing the cottage. She might also buy a chain, long enough to let you wander in most of the room. Don’t worry she’ll let you out, she just needs to install new sets of locks on every door in your house.

Eula

The day when she finally loses an internal battle and kidnaps you is the day when both you and Eula start to hate her intensely. Just like Amber, she also tries to be understanding, yet it’s hard. She can sometimes snap back or glare at you with that cold look, which will sink your already drowning sympathies even further.

Escape attempts will be met quite poorly, Eula understands that you’re terrified and stressed and don’t want to be anywhere near her, yet it hurts so badly she loses control. She will say a couple of very insidious and bitter things, as she drags you back, her hold on you a tad too forceful not to be painful.

You will most likely be confined in her mansion - Lawrences might be universally despised by all of Mondstadtians, yet they’re also filthy rich and people have a hard time saying no to shiny mora. You will be allowed to wander in a couple of rooms with all the necessities in your reach.

She won’t allow you to have any maids or servants though - her reputation is already low, and letting a third person in on this dangerous secret will definitely be her downfall.

That’s why she wastes no time when she sees rooms she kept you in empty. Eula will bolt out of the house, uncaring how she might look to others as her mind races, searching for your possible routes.

Your best bet is staying inside or close to major settlements. As it was said before, Mondstadtian despise Lawrences, and Eula isn’t an exception to that. She might be a respected Knight of Favonius, but if you act distressed enough others will question her motives and deter her from grabbing you back.

If you somehow happen to be in the wilderness it’s already over for you. Eula spends most of her time outside the city gates, she is very familiar with the terrains and forests, so she navigates them pretty well. No matter how fast or long you run, she will get you back.

Eula will act extra callous and cold after your failed escape, her heart aching at the fact that you were that desperate to be anywhere but with her.

Jean

Jean is far from being an intense yandere, she will confine you only if she believes that you can’t live comfortably by yourself.

One of the perks of being a highly respected acting grandmaster is that no one really questions her decisions. Even Diluc, who left and now despises the knights, acknowledges how responsible and hardworking she is.

She will convince others that you’re mentally unwell, that you need care and patient guidance to even function, and so she will pressure you into becoming her protege.

None of your words about Jean’s true nature will be taken seriously - acting grandmaster is a kind, hardworking and responsible leader, she does everything in the name of others’ well-being. How can you accuse Jean of something like this?

Moreover, your words will be used against you, as she will present them as a proof of your fragile mental state - you must be deeply delusional to think of your caretaker so badly and poorly, blaming her for things she had no hand in.

You will be “gently” reminded to stay with Jean in her own house,a knight always patrolling near the building when she has work to do. Unlike most yanderes, Jean will allow you to freely wander in the house and courtyard, yet nothing more.

If you escape, you should probably head to the next nation, without stopping in any of the Mondstadt settlements - Jean’s reach is far and wide.

She will dispatch the group of knights, ordering them to safely retrieve you back into her arms - “[First] is scared and confused”, she’ll tiredly sigh and ask them to be gentle with you upon your recapture.

She won’t punish you once you’re back, no she will be calm and collected, despite the inner storm - she has to keep the mask up, both for you and others. You will find two knights on the daily patrol though.

Lisa

Lisa can appear very lazy and careless at first glance, but she is far from that. The witch is the best graduate of Sumeru academy in two centuries and an expert at potion making. She’s also very good at her time management and has a spark of ingenuity, which makes your escape highly unlikely.

First of all, you will be pumped full of sedative drugs, if you aren’t compliant and broken enough - Lisa would like to think that you’re all nice and obedient, but she can’t.

She will slip drugs in your food and water, sometimes she will force the syringe needle under your skin, if you realize what she’s doing and start being difficult.

With the substances muddling your mind you will be as helpless and weak as a newborn kitten, unable to make three steps in a straight line.

With you being constantly high Lisa doesn’t have to stress over your escape - she just needs to lock all windows and doors and add a bit of silencing charms so no one can hear your angered screams.

It would be an incredibly simple, yet perfect plan if it wasn’t for drug resistance. Over time your body will start to adapt to the influence of her “potions”, and you will need a higher dose to be rendered helpless and incoherent again.

You will realize this once the terrible mix of withdrawal and clarity of mind hits you. Half-bent and squirming you will slip from your cell and start to run.

It’s highly unlikely you will go far, especially during withdrawal, but your best chance of escaping lies into contacting any human settlement - you will appear very sick and distressed and they’ll have no choice but take you in and let you endure the incoming torture under the safety of the house.

Once your body is clean, you should run, as far as possible, you should also change your clothes - Lisa marked the ones she kept you in with her electro energy, making you easier to detect.

If she gets you back, she’ll start switching between different kinds of sedatives, so you don’t develop resistance. Lisa will also add a couple of locks and a long chain to her purchases.

Rosaria

Rosaria, to her own dismay, doesn’t own any fancy mansion to keep you in, the house that she lives in is small and cramped as she uses the place to just sleep and keep the little of what she owns here.

This house, despite its small size, has a cellar - it’s empty and unused, with cobwebs decorating the corners. It’s perfect for keeping you in, when you’re difficult.

Don’t worry the cellar is the last resort - Rosaria will confide you here, if you act extra defiant and disobedient. On most days, you’re free to wander in that small house, and if you act extra nice, the nun will let you out under her strict supervision.

She will however, install a long chain and cuff it around your leg when she has to leave for a job.

You can run away from her in two instances, when she decides to go for a short walk with you, and when she is away, if you are able to unscrew or loosen the chain enough for your feet to slip.

If you escape during your walk, you better be an excellent runner, because Rosaria is fast. You will have to compete not only in speed, but also endurance and stamina with her, because Rosaria can run for a very long time, especially when she’s chasing you.

If you escape when she’s away your task gets infinitely easier, you’ll just need to make your way to Mondstadt and make your accusations - Rosaria isn’t very popular here, nor does she have a great image, so your words will hold some weight.

Whether she is found guilty or innocent, it will provide enough time for you to leave the city and head for the neighbouring nation.

If Rosaria gets you back, then you can forget about seeing a sunlight for a very long time, she will keep you chained in the cellar for at least two weeks as a punishment.

[stutterfly]

Failure to Communicate

This was a joint collab fic that @gukslut​ and I worked on, commissioned by @cypherft-v as part of our fundraising for Black Lives Matter. Thank you for contributing! Banner & moodboard by me :)

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

{Genre} Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy/ smut

{Rating} Mature - Explicit 

{Word Count} 21K

{Warnings} oral, kissing, fingering, protected sex, biting, marking, other filthy shit

{Summary} You've always had a crush on Park Jimin, but the truth is that you're just one of many. He just so happens to be the TA for one of your classes, and you're determined to make your feelings known. Whether or not he takes you seriously remains to be seen.

{Prompt} Could either of you write an enemies to lover story about jimin and y/n set in college where he was her TA and got her kicked out of her major bc he didnt give her the grade she needed and was generally unhelpful? Posted on tumblr on August 17, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to any platform, including YouTube.

Ten more minutes. You can barely see the clock from your seat against the wall. The lecture hall isn't crowded by any means; to the contrary, this Tuesday/Thursday psych class is usually pretty empty. You could have just as easily sat in the middle, but it doesn't afford you the same view. Well, it does. But not the one you prefer. It's just that positioned front and center, your staring would look more obvious. At least that's what you're telling yourself. If you stare from the corner it's less conspicuous, which is important because you do a lot of staring in this class. Park Jimin is the TA.

The man in question sits off to the side at a table of his own, typing away on his laptop. This reminds you that you haven’t been doing much other than quietly ogling from a distance. The only notes you're taking are lackluster doodles of his appearance and the occasional squiggle of your pen at the quiet sighs he lets out when he stretches his back after sitting hunched over his laptop for too long.

Jimin is absolutely breathtaking — even in an ugly plaid three-piece suit and perfectly round spectacles that would look horrid on any normal person. You're definitely not the only one who has noticed. His beautiful features and fantastic bone structure forge a man who is borderline ethereal. With soft eyes, big pouty lips, a flawless complexion, and a flirtatious demeanor he has enraptured many over the years. He's popular... like, really popular.

You begrudgingly count yourself among those love-smitten numbers. You know it’s hopeless and illogical. He could have any person he so desired at any point in time. Why would he ever choose someone like you? If you’d been paying any sort of attention to the subject matter of this class you might know that things like feelings and life’s rhetorical questions often don’t make sense.

But you’re shit at psychology. You’re more of a blunt poet at heart, and that heart is often hidden behind twisted brambles of anxiety and sharp thorns of insecurity.

You are but a speck of dirt upon his round glasses. It’s been a hopeless, silent crush for some time, but now that he’s assisting the professor in this core requirement for your academic studies, he has to acknowledge your presence. You’re a speck he has to look at before swiping you out of sight with a wave of his hand.

He's the object of just about everyone's affections, and rightfully so. He's not just gorgeous, he's charismatic, charming, and such a smooth talker. The word on campus says those pretty lips of his can do a lot of other really wonderful things too. You've been watching him chew on them for the past five minutes straight, wondering how many times his deliciously pink tongue can sweep over them before he makes them chapped.

Maybe they're chapped already. Maybe you should offer him your chapstick? Or maybe you should never talk to him at all, because you don't stand a chance. Park Jimin would chew you up and leave you bleeding out with a broken heart, and you know it. That doesn't stop you from imagining all the ways he could take you in his mouth first. You could watch those pretty lips all day long, but you’ll settle for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Looking up as if he's been paying attention all along, Jimin attempts to figure out where the professor is in the lesson. It’s obvious that he wasn't listening at all and was instead answering messages. It would be nice if he could say they were messages for class, but that's not true and Jimin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He's been talking to Chungha, his current flavor of the week.

He turns toward the students as the professor dismisses the class and there you are, eager and awestruck. It takes every ounce of self control Jimin has not to roll his eyes. Another fan, he presumes. You can't handle him, but he can tell by the embarrassed way you tear your eyes from him to look anywhere else that it hasn't stopped you from thinking about it.

Trying to seem nonchalant now is a lost cause. Jimin has no shame and although you busied yourself by packing up your neglected textbooks and darting your gaze to various points in the room for a straight minute, Jimin is still staring at you when you look back at him. He smirks when your eyes meet. It's not a flirty kind of smirk, you sadly note. It's condescending in your eyes, which further solidifies your theory: Jimin is too much for you no matter how badly you want a taste of him.

"Did you take notes?" he asks, nodding toward your backpack where you've just tucked your computer and sketched up notebook.

"I- uhh..." You panic.

"You know that was all about the exam next week. You're gonna need those notes if you want to have any hope of passing it," he tells you, shoving his own computer into his bag.

"I was just.. um, I was--" you attempt to explain.

"Busy staring at me?" He smiles and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s teasing oh gyou.

You balk at the blatant accusation and force a half-laugh, half-scoff from your throat. “No.”

"Yes," he corrects with a light and mellifluous laugh. "Is there pen on my face or were you hoping you could be?"

"What?" you choke, eyes watering at the idea.

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly to himself as he remembers his surroundings. With a small clear of his throat and the subtle adjusting of his tie, he provides a suggestion for you. “Get them from Taehyung.”

"Get what?" you ask, drawing a blank on what this conversation was even about. It's the first time you've ever actually talked to him outside of your dreams and it’s proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

"The notes, Y/N. Get the notes from Taehyung, you know, the ones that you didn't take today because you were daydreaming about my mouth," he tells you, heading for the door.

Taehyung, who is the only other person left in the room wiggles his fingers at you in a wave. When you turn back, Jimin is gone.

"Need the notes?" Taehyung asks, voice free of judgement.

"Please," you sigh, relieved that he'd waited.

He spins his laptop toward you, where an email is already open with the notes attachment added. "Drop your address in there," he says standing up.

"Thank you so much," you say, frantically typing your student email into the space.

"Hey, y/n?" Taehyung asks, the bristles of curiosity or concern painting his tone with a soft comfort.

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

"If you were looking at me like that, I'd at least ask for your number." Tae offers a combination of large hopeful eyes and a giant goofy grin as he holds his phone out for you.

Giggling, you take it from his hand and add your number to his contacts list. He purses his lips to hide his excitement as he takes his phone back. He slides it into his pocket before hastily packing the rest of his things into his leather messenger bag.

"Thanks, Taehyung," you say, waving on your way out the door.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, half of the contents of his bag threatening to spill onto the floor as he scrambles away from the table. He adjusts his belongings and clears his throat, instantly adopting a smooth persona. "Where are you going? I'll walk you."

"My car?"

"Wanna come eat with me?" he wonders. He's confident, but it's not the same kind of arrogant confidence that Jimin oozes. He's softer. He feels more real, more attainable. He obviously knows he's a catch and he’s definitely expressed the same about you. What could be the harm in letting an attractive man stroke your ego a little bit? If you’re being honest with yourself, you can use the boost after such a pathetic display towards your crush.

"Oh, uh... yeah. I guess so," you agree, letting him lead the way out the door.

"Cool." Tae takes his glasses off and hooks them in his shirt. Pulling a snapback from his bag, he pushes his hair back and puts it on before he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Damn. Why did that raise his hotness like ten whole levels?

"You like hamburgers?"

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Taehyung slips into the seat next to you on Thursday, brushing against you very deliberately as he passes.

"Hello, sugar," he says, licking his lips as he spares a fleeting glance down at your chest.

"Hey, Tae," you greet him while your eyes are still locked on Jimin.

"Still on Jimin, huh?" he asks. He doesn't sound particularly disappointed, or surprised for that matter. He's just stating a fact. You're relieved he's not offended. Letting him eat you out in his backseat after dinner was probably not your best decision, although it seems like it meant about as much to him as it did to you.

"I don't know," you say with a shrug.

"It's okay. I can't blame you. I could put in a good word for you if you want. We're close," he informs you, sitting back and spreading his legs wide under the desk.

Sighing, you rest your cheek in your palm. "I've got a plan," you confess.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles. He playfully knocks his knee against yours as if to signal for you to spill. "Do tell."

"I think I need a little extra help with this material," you tell Taehyung.

"Good luck, Y/n. I hope he can squeeze you into his busy schedule, but hey, if he can't, I'm totally down to squeeze into yours anytime."

Looking at Tae out of the corner of your eye, you smile at the grin he wears and start to laugh at the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you joke.

"Please do."

The minutes drag on as you wait for this class to end. Doing your best to seem a little less obsessive this time, you make a point to take notes and look at the teacher more than the TA. Jimin still catches you staring at least three times. It's embarrassing, but not enough to stop you from approaching him as the room empties out.

"Hi, y/n," Jimin sings, giving you a knowing smile.

"Hi." You tuck your hair behind your ear, and smile back.

"Do you need something?" he wonders, purposefully combing his fingers through his silver hair.

Damn, do you ever.

"I was wondering if you had time to help me. I'm struggling with this material and I could really use some one-on-one guidance." Leaning over his desk you make sure he has a good view right down your shirt, not that his eyes wander from yours. While he shows restraint in his gaze you swear he briefly drags his bottom lip through his teeth before he catches himself.

"One-on-one, huh?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking amused. "I bet Taehyung would give you some one-on-one guidance."

You're sure that's true, but it's not Taehyung you're after. Taehyung isn’t the TA. Taehyung isn’t getting paid to help teach a course. Of course you want to say that and in your head you rehearse the words but you can’t seem to find a way to phrase them eloquently enough. Why do you always get stupid brain around him? Your plan is quickly falling apart.

Jimin waits for your response with his eyebrows raised. You know he's two seconds away from leaving you gaping at him and walking out the door, so you do something incredibly rash and stupid.

"I like you," you blurt out.

Jimin smiles. He knows that, obviously. He also knows damn well that you're perfectly capable of looking back at your notes by yourself. You're definitely smart and dedicated enough to study on your own. He can't help teasing you anyway.

"Everyone likes me," he casually informs you as he plants his palms on the desk and leans on them.

He peeks over the edge of his glasses as he looks up at you, like some kind of otherworldly sexy librarian. If deities ever needed a librarian, Jimin wouldn’t even need a resume. His charm and seduction are so strong that you almost miss his rejection. Almost. You're stunned into silence when it hits you. Just as you're about to tuck and run, he smiles again.

"But,” he pauses to click his tongue thoughtfully, “I think I have some time on Saturday. I'll give you my number.” He rips a corner of paper out of his notebook. "Is it okay if I come to your place? Do you have a dorm or…”

"Oh. My apartment’s fine!" you flounder, trying to remember how to speak coherent sentences. Jimin. In your room. How many dreams have you had about this moment? "I mean, yeah, sure. You'll come to mine, yeah."

Jimin giggles and it sounds like pealing bells. You're lost in the beautiful sound of it until you realize that he's laughing at you. "You okay with that? We could meet somewhere else instead."

"I wouldn't mind you in my room," you sigh. Open mouth; insert foot.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a chance to backtrack, but you're both well aware you meant every word of that.

"Okay, y/n. See you Saturday then. Call me."

"I’ll call you," you repeat, resisting the urge to slap your palm over your face. You sound like an idiot. Stupid brain strikes again.

Jimin barely notices, all too used to girls falling over themselves to get his attention. You’re no different to him, just another pretty face in a sea of women entranced by the way he walks, talks, and breathes. It’s not his fault he’s so damn pretty. He does note that you’re brave, however. Not many people come on to him so brazenly, and that’s something worth rewarding. Besides, he feels a sort of obligation to help you out. He is getting paid to help out the professor, after all.

He winks at you as he leaves, taking your breath and your sanity with him. You have Park Jimin’s phone number. Park Jimin is going to be in your apartment in two days. Maybe you didn’t bomb that as hard as you thought.

A slow clap beckons you to look back for the source and you find Taehyung looking back at you with his boxy grin. When he’s sure he’s got your attention he raises his two thumbs up in approval.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin is not surprised when Chungha disappears into the clusterfuck of bodies as soon as they step into the party. They may have come here together, but their fling is on its last leg and they both know it. She wants him off her couch, doesn't appreciate the feeling of tied-down-ness that comes with your friend with benefits staying over all the time. She's ready to move on, that means he has to as well.

Jimin isn't even sure whose house this is, but he’s happy to tag along for free booze and maybe a new face to go home with. Luckily, his friends are never far, and he finds them easily. Getting absolutely hammered in the backyard makes them hard to miss. Jungkook is the only one looking particularly bored as a very drunk Taehyung hangs all over him talking about the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"Why so glum?" Jimin asks, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his own.

"I'm the designated driver tonight," Jungkook sighs, pushing Taehyung off of him.

Taehyung slumps to the ground, immediately entranced by the stars above him. Jungkook kicks at him gently.

"Where's your girlfriend? I haven't seen you without your tongue down her throat all week," Jungkook wonders, looking behind Jimin for the woman in question.

"Girlfriend," Jimin repeats with a snort. "Hilarious. That's not a thing. She's probably looking for her next kill."

Jungkook regards Jimin thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunching toward each other. "If you take over DD you can have the futon."

Jungkook loves his futon. It's one of his most prized possessions. He keeps it very clean and being allowed to get anywhere near it is a privilege. Jimin is pretty sure he goes over it with a lint roller as part of his nighttime routine. It's also incredibly comfortable.

Jimin releases a breath in a tortured groan as he thinks over his options. He could get black out drunk and wake up god knows where with a terrible hangover, or he could hang out and watch his friends get black out drunk and then wake up on a futon that feels more like a cloud than a mattress, a little slice of heaven in Jungkook and Taehyung's little apartment.

"Okay," Jimin relents. "Give me the keys. I’ll stick to water for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I love you man," Jungkook praises, tossing his keys in Jimin's general direction before grabbing the newly opened can of beer out of Taehyung's hand below him. Taehyung, still staring up at the sky with a glazed smile, doesn't react. It takes Jungkook all of five seconds to pour the contents of the can straight down his throat. He follows this by smashing the can in a bicep curl with a giggle and a bashful smile.

"Do it again," an unfamiliar girly voice pleads from across the table. She tosses him another can and he repeats the action, turning away when he's finished so that he doesn't have to see her reaction. Jimin knows what's going to happen once his friend gets a few more beers in him. Jungkook is going to go apeshit. There will be no trace of this shy hunk of muscle who blushes and coils away from pretty girls. He'll be chest thumping shirtless and picking up everyone who gets close enough to touch. Half of them will probably end up thrown in the pool, if history is anything to go by, and he'll most likely have the hottest girl at the party slobbering all over him in the backseat when Jimin drives him home tonight.

Jimin's suspicions prove true an hour later when Jungkook throws Tae in the pool. Jimin runs to the edge of it in a panic. Tae was very drunk so he needs to make sure he's not just sinking like a stone. That was his first mistake, although he'd make it again to keep Taehyung safe. His second mistake was wearing these ridiculously tight ass jeans.

Any other pair and he might have been able to pry his cell phone from his pocket the second he felt JK's hands on his back. Had he worn any other pair of pants he might have been able to throw it to safety in the grass before he hit the surface of the pool. As it stands, his skin tight jeans are soaked through, Tae is slightly more sober than he was when Jimin arrived and is swimming just fine, and Jimin's phone is totally destroyed.

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You should be sleeping. It's three in the morning. You should definitely not be awake right now. Lifting your phone up for the three hundredth time tonight, you're not surprised to have no new notifications. That text you sent to Jimin hours ago has gone unanswered.

You typed and erased it at least ten times, agonized over what to say, and how to say it. By the time you pressed send, the message was nothing like how it began and you noticed a second too late that you didn't even tell him who you were. Adding a second text saying 'it's y/n btw' seemed so desperate. You've been waiting for him to ask who you are for so long that you've convinced yourself he already knows and he's avoiding you on purpose. Who else would have said "i'm excited to see you tomorrow" in a text about meeting up to study? He knows it's you. He has to. The alternative possibility that he plans to see other people tomorrow too is too bothersome to accept. You really need to let this go and try to sleep.

Keys in the door stop you from dragging yourself off the couch. Your roommate will see you and accuse you of trying to run away from him to avoid something. He’s right, of course. You’ve attempted to flee from your problems in the past, against his advice. Now you know better than to try. It's much better to face things with Yoongi head on. At the very least, maybe he's got something helpful to say.

"Why're you up? You look sad." His words slur just the tiniest bit and he leans against the wall for stability as he takes off his shoes just inside the door. You see right through his attempts at nonchalance. He's tipsy.

"A boy I like isn't texting me back," you admit with a scowl. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"No, friend dropped me off. Is it Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, not pausing for an answer. "I wouldn't worry too much. He talked about you a lot tonight. He was really drunk though. You should go to bed. He'll probably text you in the morning."

You don't bother to correct Yoongi. Admitting you're harboring a huge fucking crush on the campus it-boy is the most foolish thing you could possibly do. It's embarrassing and naive and Yoongi would pity you for falling for someone so far out of your league. Maybe you should just date Taehyung and forget about Jimin. He sure seems to have forgotten about you.

When the morning comes and your only notifications are an email from Target and a text from your mom, you muster up every bit of courage you could possibly find in your body and call him. You’d rather know if he’s deliberately ignoring you now than agonize over other possibilities all day.

It doesn't even ring. His phone goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and a third time. Voicemail, voicemail. Could it be you rushed putting his number in and did it incorrectly? You dig through your backpack for the slip of paper he gave you to double check, and sure enough, it’s his number. He's ignoring you. He turned off his phone to solidify that fact in your brain.

Last night, laying awake waiting for his name to light up your phone, you felt pretty damn bad. In the daylight, with rest and a clear head, you're absolutely crushed. He was supposed to come over. You had plans. It was stupid of you to think you could earn space in his mind or time in his schedule. He played you, and it hurts.

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Studying on your own proves more difficult than you imagined. With only Tae's notes to go by, you feel like you're quizzing yourself on things you already know. Turning to the textbook doesn't give you the specialized knowledge you need for the exam. You could never hope to memorize enough of it that you'd retain something pertinent.

On top of that, your heart hurts. You were so close to spending time together you could practically smell the subtle scent of his cologne. He pulled the rug right out from under you so fast, your ass is sore from falling on it so hard.

Sunday and Monday pass miserably in their slowness as you continue to nurse your tender rejected heart. You spend two days mulling over how you're going to face Jimin on Tuesday, let alone how you’re going to pass this exam when you're so disgustingly focused on figuring out why he stood you up and ignored you all weekend.

Tuesday comes too soon and you find yourself lingering outside the lecture hall for way longer than any sane person should.

That's what bothers you the most about this whole thing with Jimin. He's stolen your sense. How on earth did you let a stupid crush, on a boy you hardly know, get between you and your grades? You tell yourself no more as you suck in a deep breath and steel yourself to march right through the door. You're not going to let Park Jimin and his cruelty stand between you and your credits.

With your resolve solid and your head held high, you push yourself forward. You don't even spare a glance in his general direction as you pass, although it would be a lie to say you didn't clock him in your peripheral. Tae sits down next to you a moment later and you thank your lucky stars you have a friend here to make you look busy.

"Ready to make this exam your bitch?" he asks, making finger guns at you and clicking his tongue.

"That remains to be seen," you say, turning toward him in your seat so that Jimin is behind you. "I couldn't get anything done this weekend," you confess. "I thought I was more prepared than I am so it really just depends on what's on the exam."

"Aw fuck, you could have called me," he says, passing you his note cards. "We could have studied together."

"Oh, Tae," you sigh, pushing his hand back and refusing his offer of notes. "You should use this time for yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to take it from you."

"We've got ten minutes." He points to the clock at the front of the lecture hall. "Quiz me. It will help us both."

Ten minutes fly by as you do your absolute best to retain any of the information in Taehyung's carefully written cards. You take one last glance at it before someone slips it from your hand and replaces it with a test. You know it's Jimin.

Only when you look up and level him with a glare does it seem to register on his face that you're angry. Realization dawns on him as you snatch the test and lean over it on your desk.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he quietly whispers, but he's moving on already. The exam is about to begin. He doesn't have time to explain himself right now. He knows what it looks like. He led you on and stood you up without so much as a text message. He should have asked Tae to tell you what happened, but the truth is that he forgot about you entirely and he knows that is the cruelest thing he could possibly confess.

Nearly an hour later you set your pencil down and run your fingers through your hair. Did any of those answers make sense? Your only possible saving grace is bullshitting your way through the open responses. Maybe you’ll earn some partial credit at the very least.

You swallow the petty words threatening to spill from your tongue as you gather your things and approach Jimin’s desk with your test in hand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the anxious glances he threw your way. You swore every time you looked up he was looking at you, so you’d squint like you were checking the time, like you had somewhere more important to be than taking an exam for a core requirement course.

As you slap the packet of your evident failure down on his desk, you don your best apathetic expression. You look down at him and allow a sliver of eye contact, just enough to send the message that you don’t care anymore. You try to look bored. He doesn’t deserve to see how he’s hurt you or angered you. He’s nothing to you. You’re nothing to him, but you’re not beneath him. He’s beneath you. You don’t just look at him; you look through him.

He blinks a few times and a chill runs down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

You make sure to straighten your shoulders and keep your chin up as you turn on your heel and leave. You bombed that exam and you know it, thanks to your stupid feelings, but at the very least you achieved the victory of shaking Park Jimin to his core. So why do you feel like you’re about to sob in the bathroom down the hall?

Oh. Because you are. You spend at least five minutes composing yourself and washing your face before your phone buzzes with a much needed distraction.

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

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Jimin’s leg bounces uncontrollably under his desk while he waits for the remaining students to finish their exams so he can go after you. He wracks his brain for ways to clear the nervous tension dwelling within but it’s no use. Confrontation makes him so uncomfortable. Still, he can’t have you thinking he’s a total douche. He should text you. Fuck, he should call you. And he would, if he had a working phone. The second the last student drops their exam on his desk he’s going to find you and apologize.

He knows his reputation precedes him. He knows exactly what this looks like. You probably think he blew you off to get some or just led you on entirely, but he really did mean to meet up with you. He needs to clear the air. Maybe he’s a little loose with his morals at times, but he’s never an asshole on purpose. He prides himself on being a beacon of positivity and an example on how to make people feel good even if it’s only to make them feel good. He barely knows you, but it bothers him to think that you’re out there thinking he’s a heartless jerk and that he hurt your feelings on purpose.

It’s a big campus and Jimin spends the better half of an hour searching it before he finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung. You look awfully close, and he almost feels bad interrupting you, but he owes you an explanation. It’s a mystery to him why on earth you would seek out his company when Taehyung seems all too willing to be what you need.

Taehyung notices him before you do. He shakes his head at Jimin disapprovingly. “Cold, man. So cold.”

Jimin nods, hanging his head. He’s well aware. You haven’t turned around yet and don’t intend to. If Jimin can ignore you then you can ignore him too. Besides, if you turn to face him, he might notice your watery, puffy eyes. How incredibly foolish that would be to admit that you’ve been crying about being stood up by someone you’ve barely even spoken to.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s soft voice calls to you, melodic and soothing as ever. “Can I have a minute?”

Taehyung looks between the two of you while he moves a french fry into his mouth at a snail’s pace and slowly chews as if this is free entertainment.

“No,” you answer.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he tells you, progressing despite your refusal to listen. He plants his hands on the table beside you and leans in to try to steal a glance at your profile, but you turn your head away.

“Jungkook pushed me in the pool right after this asshole,” he says, pointing at Taehyung. “My phone was in my pocket. It’s ruined.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, his mouth open in protest and full of half-chewed fries. “Don’t pin this on me. You could have asked any one of us to let her know what happened. You never even mentioned it. Why don’t you just admit that you forgot?” Taehyung suggests, jamming another french fry into his little paper cup of ketchup before cramming it into his mouth.

Jimin fumes for a moment, glaring at Tae before he pulls out the chair next to you and spins it around. He straddles it and rests his chin on the backrest. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I forgot. I swear I never would have done something like that to you on purpose. My phone getting ruined messed up a lot of things, but if you give me another chance, I’d love to prove that I’m not the horrible person you think I am.”

Silence. You glance over at Taehyung, willing him to speak up and either back Jimin up or get you out of this. You’re ready to forgive Jimin already and leave with him right now and it’s not lost on you how bad that looks. It’s so easy for Jimin to have you wrapped around his fingers. You wish he was ugly. You wish you never signed up for this stupid class. You wish you could feel for Tae the way you feel for Jimin so that you could just leave with him instead. You’re about ready to anyway when he finally opens his mouth again.

“I think you should take her out to eat. Eating out is the perfect way to apologize, don’t you think?” Tae’s grin is so wide it makes his eyes crinkle.

You huff out a humorless laugh. If that’s what you wanted you’d stick with the original plan and be in the backseat of Taehyung’s car again in the next twenty minutes. Against your better judgement, you turn to look at Jimin, puffy eyes and runny nose no longer hidden. He’s a little taken back by your expression. He smiles at you softly and reaches out to brush his knuckles against your cheek. You practically melt into his touch.

“Mmm, I would like something sweet.” Jimin licks his lips. “How about ice cream?”

“When?” you ask, embarrassed by the way your voice cracks and by how easily you’re giving in.

“Now?”

“Well, look at the time,” Tae says, standing with his tray and messenger bag. “I’ve got to go wash my hair but you two have fun on your date. Use protection!” he calls behind him on his way toward the exit.

You’d be irritated by his blunt suggestion if his statement didn’t swirl a storm of butterflies deep in your gut. You’re so distracted by them that you don’t realize that you’re still gaping at Jimin in disbelief.

“So?” Jimin wonders, holding out his hand.

“I don’t forgive you,” you insist while taking it into yours. Although it’s probably a lie, he doesn’t call you on it. He simply smiles and gives your hand a tiny comforting squeeze.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

“My car is on the other side of campus,” you tell him once you’ve stepped outside. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, um,” he stalls. “I thought it might be nice to walk, give us more time to talk. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it kind of far?” you ask, assuming he's taking you to that chain ice cream shoppe a few miles off campus.

"No, this place is close. It's a secret. Not many people know about it," he says with a wink.

"You say that to everyone don't you?" You narrow your eyes at him, moving out of reach when he tries to put his arm around you.

"No," he laughs. "I've been here with other people, though. I was here with Jin last week." He smiles, leading the way toward a small alley between buildings.

You follow him easily, questioning again why you have so little self preservation when it comes to him. At the other end of the alley you can see what looks like a park. Green trees line the sidewalk up ahead, creating a canopy against the brilliant sun. The walk to this mysterious ice cream place is shaded and chilly. Jimin slips his jacket off and slings it over your shoulders when he notices you rubbing at your arms.

"Almost there," he promises. In the distance, framed by two towering oaks, is a tiny little ice cream place. It looks like a mirage, something out of a board game or a fairy tale. The closer you get, the more real it becomes. The siding is faded, the roof looks like it's in dire need of repairs, and the hand-painted sign reading The Cheery Cherry has seen better days. It's clean though, sparkling in all the places that matter.

There is a stout old man behind the window with a shining silver ice cream scoop ready and waiting in his hand. Jimin greets him by name and asks for a simple vanilla cone. You're tempted to judge him, he doesn't strike you as the vanilla type, but there must be a reason. Maybe this is the best vanilla ice cream on earth. You order the same just in case, taking your first taste as Jimin pulls a few bills from his wallet and hands them over with a shaky hand.

To your dismay the ice cream is not extraordinary; it's just plain vanilla. You could probably get the same exact type from any grocery store. You should have gone with something else. You should have at least gotten the cheery cherry cone. That might have been a flavor worth tasting. Why was he so bent on coming here for such a bland ice cream?

You suppose you should be thankful for the gesture but you still feel uneasy, like he’s playing you somehow. It almost feels like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than desire. Is he doing the bare minimum because he doesn’t feel like you’re worth more than this? Your company must be the equivalent to a plain vanilla cone. Mediocre. Unremarkable. Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Jimin turns back to you with his ice cream in one hand and change filling the other. "Is it good?"

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

"Do you want something different?" he asks, counting the money in his hand.

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you snap back at him.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just think you're soft, sweet. Vanilla suits you."

"I am not vanilla. I do all kinds of freaky shit," you argue, realizing too late that you've over shared in your annoyance.

Jimin looks you over with a smirk, bringing his ice cream to his lips and dragging his tongue around the edge of the cone where it's dripping. "Noted," he says.

"I didn't mean-- I wasn't -- UGH," you huff, embarrassed that he's still making a fool of you from the doghouse. You need to change the subject fast. "What'syourmajor?" You rush the question past your lips and he laughs at your flustered state, waiting for you to slow down and ask him in words he can understand.

"Your major?" you repeat, slower this time.

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

"You don't know what that means, huh?" He nudges you with his elbow, falling in stride beside you. Unfortunately, you had just brought your ice cream up to your mouth and his nudging caused you to smear it across your cheek.

You look at him angrily. First he stood you up, forgot about you, then he had the nerve to show up to class today looking like a fucking angel, takes you for ice cream to make it up to you, and now he's teasing you and making you look every bit the fool you feel like you are. Tears well in your eyes when he laughs at the mess he caused.

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggling. He reaches out to gently wipe your cheek with his thumb which he promptly pops in his mouth and sucks clean after. "What's wrong?"

You swipe at your eyes, ridding them of the tears that were about to spill out as your shame bubbles over. "You make me feel stupid," you confess. "You're wasting my time."

Shoving his jacket back at him, you take off in the direction you came, throwing your stupid vanilla cone in the closest trash can and kicking yourself for not leaving with Taehyung instead. Jimin winces at the action, looking like you’ve discarded a precious keepsake rather than a plain, boring vanilla cone.

"Y/n, wait!" he calls, catching up to you with ease. He takes you by the wrist and spins you back to face him. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He sighs, softening his hold on you. “I didn’t know what to think about you when you approached me at first, you know? Girls throw themselves at me all the time.”

You grimace at his words and roll your eyes, snatching your wrist back with a scowl. Of course he thinks you were throwing yourself at him, but you’re sure that you weren’t. You were just being direct about your feelings. Do you really come across as such a desperate person? Maybe you should ask Yoongi for his opinion later.

“But I definitely didn’t mean to stand you up and I don’t mean to make you feel stupid at all. I think you're pretty smart, you’re cute and you’re actually bolder than I initially thought. I'd love to get to know you better. I know I'm not doing so great so far, but I can be better. Please, sit with me?" he asks, walking to a nearby park bench.

Reluctantly, you follow, although you make a point to drag your feet the whole way there. When you sit down beside him, he loops an arm around your waist and draws you closer, offering his ice cream up to you once your legs brush against his. You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Hey," he jokes. "Just lick it. I didn't make you throw yours away."

You shake your head and lean forward to drag your tongue over what's left of his vanilla cone.

"Forgive me?" he asks. His toothy smile catches the sunlight and it genuinely hurts your eyes to keep looking.

"Okay. One more chance," you agree. "So, urban studies?"

He relaxes back against the bench, taking another lick before he offers the cone to you again. "Yeah, it's like community development and stuff. What about you, princess? What are you studying?"

You flush at the nickname, heat rising in your face and other places you'd rather not acknowledge. You're oblivious to the fact that you're having a similar effect on Jimin. The way you're licking his ice cream is making his pants feel a little tight.

"Teaching," you tell him, picking at the peeling paint on the bench.

"Little kids?"

"Yeah." You take another lick of his ice cream while he holds it, looking up halfway through.

Jimin's expression is unreadable, stunned almost. He shifts a little, crosses his legs, clears his throat.

"Kids are fun. I have a younger brother," he tells you.

"A lot younger?"

"No," he laughs. "But he's a total baby so it's basically the same.”

“Oh, does he get that from you?” you tease with a giggle.

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said I was nice,” you tell him, taking another slow lick of his ice cream.

“Clearly,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He drags his lip through his teeth to try to hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You manage to cram so much conversation into the next twenty minutes on this park bench, learning more about the mysterious campus celebrity than you ever thought you’d know. You hope his interest wasn't feigned, because it felt so fucking good to have his attention, to have him really listen to you and ask you about your life and your family and your hopes for the future. If you're not mistaken, you might think this was real progress.

Jimin watches you walk back toward campus with a soft smile and an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him. You've surprised him. You're not the naive infatuated little girl he took you for. If he had a phone he'd be texting you already. He'd call you tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's alarming to him how badly he wants another ten minutes with you. He hates that you declined his offer to walk you to your next class, but damn does he ever appreciate the view.

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Thursday comes quickly. After your initial ice cream date, Jimin has found himself curiously seeking your attention rather than the other way around. With his phone out of commission he was hanging around the cafeteria all day yesterday in hopes of catching you. While it’s clear you don’t trust him and you haven’t forgiven him, you seem to have softened up a bit. You spent your meals together and allowed him to walk you to your classes, all while exchanging playful jabs at each other. You might forgive him for bailing if yesterday stood alone. Today is a whole different story.

Now Jimin is staring down a stack of graded exams the professor has dropped on the table at the front of the room. Students haven’t begun to trickle in yet so when the professor takes the opportunity to excuse himself, Jimin wastes no time in flipping through the pile to get a sense of the overall success of the class. When he gets to a test marked in thick red marker with an ‘F’ his stomach drops. He knows it’s yours before he even reads the name. He was hoping maybe you’d been lying about not paying attention.

He shuffles the exam back into place and straightens the pile just as the earliest student walks in. Jimin offers her a wan smile and a tiny bow of his head as a greeting. Although his stomach is still sinking and churning, he’s already thinking about ways he might be able to make it up to you.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung again, where he has you distracted from your misery by folding and unfolding a cootie catcher in front of your face like you're in third grade and not your third year of college.

"Pick a color now, y/n," Tae urges, opening and closing the folded paper four times after you've indicated the triangle marked 'pink.' "Hmm," he ponders. "It says you need to relax."

"What is this, a fortune cookie? I thought these things were like truth or dare, or like... who I was gonna marry," you complain, flicking the craft from his hands.

Jimin picks the paper up off the floor and hands it back to Taehyung. "Do me," he says.

After a moment of pointing and folding, Tae announces, "It says you need to apologize. Again."

Jimin looks at you while Tae packs up his stuff. After dropping a kiss on the top of your head he leaves for his next class. The action makes Jimin furrow his brows and frown. A feeling too uncomfortably close to jealousy blooms in his chest. Why did that bother him so much? He's not ready to acknowledge the answer to that. Instead, he contradicts it by reminding himself that Tae is one of his closest friends and it's cool that the two of you are getting close too.

"Princess?" Jimin's song-like voice drifts to your ears once Tae has disappeared. You've pressed your face into your folded arms on the table and it's taking everything you have not to start crying about your failed exam again. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, laying his hand against the small of your back and beginning to rub soft circles there. "I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"I wish you were ugly," you mumble into your arms.

"What?" he laughs, leaning his face down next to yours.

You lift your head to meet his eyes. "If you were ugly this never would have happened," you insist, sitting up and shaking his hand off your back with a twist of your spine. "Just be ugly! FUCK."

Jimin smiles before screwing his face up into the most unrecognizable grimace he can manage. He holds it until you start to smile then switches to another terrible expression, with his chin tucked into his neck so that it morphs into several chins and crosses his eyes for extra emphasis on its ridiculousness. When you start to laugh he sticks out his tongue to make it worse.

Once you’re clutching your stomach and doubled over with pealing laughter, he gives you the beautiful smile you're so used to again. "Let's do something fun together," he offers. "And then after that, we'll get studying and make this right. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you agree, leaning into his open arms. It only took a couple days of spending time together to remove the awkwardness you felt when he touched you. He's even held your hand a few times while you walked together after your other classes. Now, his embrace feels welcome and comforting. You still can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he actually likes doing it but you don’t mind at all.

"There's a party on Saturday, will you come with me?"

"Where?" you ask, as if you have any hope of refusing him at all. You'd go anywhere with him and you know it but you want to try to play it cool. Your tone seems more tepid than you anticipate but he doesn’t seem to call you out on it.

"Jin's," he tells you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together.

He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand while he waits for you to pretend to decide. You relish in the motion. The tingle of butterflies erupt in your belly again like a cannon aimed at your heart, ready to sink it in an instant. Instead of falling, your heart seems to fly up to your brain and a light giggle escapes your lips.

"Okay. I'll come," you say in a euphoric brain fog, looking down at your joined hands. It's scary how good it feels to have his attention like this, but you hope it doesn’t stop.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

"Why are you home?" Yoongi asks, finding you on the couch when he emerges from his bedroom. His late afternoon nap went longer than expected, leaving you believing he was out for the night. You settled in with Netflix and snacks of your own. He flops down next to you, causing you to swing your feet off the couch before they get squashed beneath his butt. He yawns and lets his head dip forward as he pulls out his phone and begins flipping through it.

"It's Friday night,” he reminds you, his tone scratchy. It makes you giggle.

"I didn't wanna go out alone and I thought you were gone. You're gonna be up all night now, you know."

"I would have stayed asleep but I've got a friend in need," he mumbles, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes.

"Aww, you're so good to me." You beam, snuggling up to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Not you," he huffs with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, that’s enough touching.”

You immediately pull back and scoff. “Wow. You’re lucky I know you know you love me.”

He rolls his eyes. "That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mock him in a tone of disbelief. You pop a chip into your mouth. “So why are you really up— if not to support your wonderful, beautiful, perfectly sculpted local couch potato?”

He smiles and steals the next chip from your hand before you can shove it into your mouth. “If you're good with it, my friend is gonna crash on our couch for a few days. His parents cut him off and he’s got nowhere to go. He’s almost got enough saved up to get his own place, but he could use some help in the meantime. Figured we’re doing alright and we have a couch. You cool with that?"

"Sure," you agree, trusting Yoongi's judgment. He's not gonna let some crazy person stay on your couch. "When?"

"I was just waiting for your approval but I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you before I passed out. I'll go pick him up now, if that's good with you," he says slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and looking for his keys.

"What, he doesn't have a car?"

"Sold it to pay for his books this semester. He's got nothing. He's keeping all his clothes in another friend's closet. It's kinda sad."

"That's rough," you agree, blowing out a heavy exhale and turning your attention back to the TV.

"I'll be back in a few. Maybe take it to your room so he can have the couch?" Yoongi suggests.

"Sure, sure," you say, already sucked back into your show and forgetting entirely about Yoongi and his friend for now.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

When Yoongi returns an hour later, you haven't moved. In fact, you’ve crashed… hard. Yoongi and his mystery guest enter to a chorus of your snores and the Friends theme song.

“Hey, get up,” Yoongi urges, nudging your shoulder lightly.

When you peel your eyes open to look at him, you’re utterly mystified to see the object of your affections a few feet behind him, standing awkwardly in your kitchen with a duffle slung over his shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you blink a few times to clear your vision. You want to be sure it's him before you open your mouth. He's there, in black sweats with a grey hoodie pulled up over his white baseball cap. “Jimin?”

“Oh good you know him," Yoongi says with relief coating his tone. "I’m gonna get him some blankets. Think you can take your Netflix marathon to your room?”

"Yeah, I can do that," you mumble, gathering up your mess and disappearing into your room without another word.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Alone in your room, you conjure up a hundred reasons in your anxious mind that could explain why Jimin thought he had to keep this huge secret from you. He’s got nothing? Maybe he was afraid you'd tell people. Suddenly, it makes so much sense why he's always walking everywhere.

You think back to Tuesday at the Cheery Cherry. His usually steady hands were so shaky handing over those bills he pulled from his wallet. You think of how tightly he clutched his change and even counted it out afterward. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your own thoughts of inadequacy, you might have been able to put it together on your own. Your stomach drops when you recall the insulting way you threw your vanilla cone in the trash. The scene replays over and over again until you’re crying into your pillow.

Guilt keeps you awake until well past midnight as you turn these unsavory ideas over and over in your head, looking at them from every possible angle and over analyzing every detail of the time you've spent together thus far. Your eyes are now wide and dry, fixed on a black spot on your ceiling that you're hoping is just a speck and not a spider. The quilt in your hands is frayed, giving your nervous hands something to pick at while you let the silence drive you mad.

The soft knock on your door at half past one is a relief. Yoongi does his best cooking at odd hours, usually bringing you a plate if you're awake. It's a surprise to find Jimin outside your door instead. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot until he finds your eyes in the dim glow of your table lamp.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers, head leaning against your door frame.

You shake your head, looking down at your skimpy sleep shorts and the university hoodie you pulled on to open the door. “I was up.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you answer, stepping aside so he can come in. Your eyes scan the room nervously, checking for underwear on the floor and counting the half empty glasses of water on your nightstand. If you knew Jimin was going to be in your bedroom tonight, you would have cleaned up. At least you didn’t leave your vibrator out in the open. You don’t think you’d recover from the embarrassment of that.

Jimin follows you to your bed, perching on the edge once you’ve settled back against your pillows.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you respond immediately. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Then why did you run away?” he asks, pulling at his hoodie strings.

“I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t tell me what you were going through and I didn’t want to…” you trail off, unsure how to articulate just why you ran away.

“You didn’t want to embarrass me? Hurt my pride?” he asks, sarcasm evident.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We aren’t that close.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispers. “I want to explain. I want to be that close to you.” He leans towards you, resting on his hands. He looks confident despite his current situation and it worries you a little. How can he be so sure of himself when he’s crashing on your couch and apologizing to you again for the fourth time in less than a week?

The Jimin you’ve gotten to know recently seems to disappear, leaving on the smooth talking playboy in his wake. He seems too calculated to be genuine. The words he whispers don’t seem like words meant for you. He is him, after all, and money or not he’s still the greatest catch on campus. And you, much to your dismay, are still just you. Unassuming, uninteresting, unexciting you. You’re the plain vanilla cone he’d never ask for if he had the means to get the banana split.

“Why?” you skeptically ask, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth while he thinks. “You’re special,” he says. “You’re cute and funny and I like spending time with you. You make me feel like I can be myself with you.”

“But you don’t trust me?” you ask, obviously referring to the elephant in the room. He didn’t tell you he was essentially homeless. How much of himself can he truly be if he was keeping that from you?

“I didn’t want to scare you away, and most girls I… see, don’t get close enough to find out,” he confesses. “I can’t afford to take anyone out right now. I haven’t been able to for a while. But I’m so close to getting enough for an apartment. That’s why I took the TA job; at the end of the semester I should be ready.”

“Jimin,” you start, unsure what to say. You’re still thinking about that goddamned three dollar ice cream cone you threw away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, standing up. “I just wanted to be real with you, and thank you for agreeing to let me have the couch for a few days. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Wait!”

As you scramble over yourself to reach out, you find yourself on your knees awkwardly clutching your hand towards your chest. You’re still worried about seeming desperate but you can’t let that stop you now. Jimin turns toward you, but you’re unsure of what you wanted to say. You only know that you want to be closer to him too, that you’re not ready for him to go, that if he leaves now you’ll lie awake for the rest of the night reliving this short conversation.

“Stay,” you plead, nervously twirling the string of your hoodie around your fingers as you sit back against the pillows. “Talk to me?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

You hold out your hand and he crosses the room to take it, standing next to your bed. You pat the space next to you and tug him toward it. “Wide awake.”

Your yawn says otherwise.

Jimin smiles, climbing over you to lay by your side on top of your blankets. He looks at you expectantly once he’s settled but it’s too much pressure for you to lead the conversation. You only know that you want to keep hearing his soothing voice. You have no idea what you wanted to say.

“You look cute,” he says, breaking the silence and touching your nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleepy and soft.”

“You look sexy,” you complain, waving his hand away. “I kinda wanna punch you for it.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “So feisty.”

“I can be boring instead,” you jokingly offer, rolling on your side to face him.

He does his best to keep his eyes trained on your face, despite the fact that all he wants to do is let them wander down. “I just want you to be you.”

That sounds fake. Again, you battle against the idea that this is all a farce, some sneaky way to get into your pants once and leave you wanting for the rest of your life. He hasn’t bared himself to you enough for you to trust him, so you pry.

“Why’d your parents cut you off, Jimin?” you ask.

He looks at you for a second, stunned at your boldness. That’s definitely not where he thought this conversation was going. He takes a moment to prepare his response and sighs.

“They have this restaurant. It’s a small place right off the coast: Jeongsik. My great grandparents started it from nothing and now my parents manage it. They want me to take over since I’m the eldest, but I want to move to the city and have my own life. I don’t want to work in their restaurant forever and my brother loves it and is perfectly capable. They love me. I know they’re just trying to teach me a lesson,” he tells you. He sounds unsure of that last bit. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s got nowhere to live and he’s penny pinching for meals and they’re shunning him.

“And what is that lesson, Jimin?” you ask, trying to dig deeper before he slips back into playboy mode.

“That being a part of Jeongsik is my only option if I want to be successful. That I can’t make it without them.”

“Can you?” The question is quiet and unassuming. You only want to know how bad it really is.

He takes a deep breath and taps his fingers anxiously against the fabric of the pillow. “I can. It won’t be the same, it won’t be easy, but I can.”

After giving Jimin a moment to say more, which he doesn’t take, you push him further. With your heart on the line and this miracle of an opportunity with him in your room, you're determined to learn as much as you can. You need to get under his skin. You need to know him, so you can know if you should run.

"What's your plan then?" you question, shifting closer so you're face to face against the pillows.

Jimin smirks at your line of questioning. It seems to break him from his thoughts. “Well,” he begins. “The Village has some one bedrooms opening up at the end of the semester, and by then I’ll be ready to make a deposit and lease one. After that I’ve got one semester left until I graduate. Then I’ll move to the city and live my life how I want.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“They still talk to me. They’re just not paying for school. Or my car. Or my food.” His heavy sigh at the end contradicts the lightness with which he revealed all of this to you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You reach for his hand, familiarity in the way it fits with yours.

“It’s okay. I have good friends, and I have…” he trails off, catching himself and looking away with an awkward huff of a laugh.

“What?” you wonder, heart fluttering at the possibility that he was about to say ‘you.’ “What else do you have?”

Jimin looks up at you, rising up on his elbow. His eyes search your face for any hint of rejection. When he finds only hope, his hand moves to cup your cheek. It’s warm, adorned with rings that contrast the temperature of his skin.

“You,” he breathes, moving closer. You watch his gaze dart down to your lips before your own eyelids flutter closed. “I was going to say you,” he confesses before he closes the space between you and lays a soft kiss against your waiting lips.

He pulls away way too fast, leaving you to panic in the aftermath. You thought you had feelings for him before, but now that he’s let you in, now that he has shown you his heart, there is nothing more to deny. You’ve fallen, hard. The realization makes you feel trapped, like a frantic dying bird in a cage. But your captor is kind and beautiful and the flavor he left on your lips is the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Then say it,” you prompt him, urging him to accept the affection you’ve been so desperate to give him.

He kisses you again in lieu of words, longer, deeper, until his tongue is dragging over yours. You fist the material of his hoodie in your hands, pulling him towards you while you turn on your back. He’s hesitant to get on top of you, afraid he might be taking it too far, but you’re insistent. You pull and he caves willingly, slotting a leg between yours and letting his hand drift from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“I like you,” he pants when he breaks away. It feels like your heart flies up out of your chest and does a lap around the room, flapping its hummingbird wings like the wild thing it is before it crashes back into its place.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you plead. “You don’t have to pretend just because you’re here now. I’m a big girl. We can just have tonight.”

You say the words but you know if he leaves tomorrow, you’ll cry all day and probably the day after that too. The truth is, you can talk all you want about how you can do this no strings attached, but you know you can’t. Your strings are so attached to him at this point you might as well be metaphorical shibari.

“I mean it,” he whispers, full, wet lips brushing the side of your neck.

You freeze. You were expecting him to drop the charade and just fuck you or something, but in this moment he exudes tenderness and consideration.

“And because I like you, I think I should go back to the couch before we do something we aren’t ready to do.”

“Stay,” you plead. “We don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.”

He slowly nods and reaches over you to turn off the lamp, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he settles back into place. You wiggle your form down into the covers and he smoothes the hair from your face before tracing his fingers down your arm. You lean in close enough to smell the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Is it cologne? You doubt it knowing what you know now, unless he’s borrowing it from someone else. You still find yourself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s comforting. Sleep begins to claim you just as he slips his fingers into yours and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Goodnight y/n.”

You think you respond but you’re in that purgatory state between sleeping and being awake, so you can’t be sure. At least you’re eighty percent sure you gave him a squeeze in return.

That’s how Yoongi finds you in the morning: you tucked neatly into your comforter and Jimin laying on top of it beside you, your hands clasped together in the middle.

“UM!” Yoongi shouts from the doorway, loud enough to wake you both.

Startled, you sit up in bed and look around for the source of the shout. “Fuck! Yoon. You didn’t need to scream.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this from Taehyung,” Yoongi chides, looking from you to Jimin and back. “That would be quite the moral conundrum.”

“For fuck’s sake. It was never Tae. I am not seeing Tae. We are JUST FRIENDS!” You yell the last two words and chuck your pillow at him for emphasis.

“Okay cool, then Jimin can explain to him whatever this is to him. Jimin, he wants you to call him. My phone’s on the table. I’m taking a shower.”

Yoongi disappears from the doorway and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. In the light of day, you feel nervous and uncertain. Jimin does nothing to ease your anxiety. He just lays there quietly, unsure what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” You try to smile and sound as chipper as possible.

He sits up finally and turns his back to you. “I should go see Taehyung.”

He moves toward the door and you feel your chest tighten. “Jimin?”

He turns to you from the hallway, and taking in your confused expression, offers you a smile. “We’re good, princess. I’ll be back tonight, then me and you: party time.” He winks before moving out of sight.

Alone once again, you start to question things. Everything. Are you imagining things or did Jimin seem cold when he left? He kissed you last night, didn’t he? Was everything you talked about too much? Does he regret kissing you? Does he regret staying the night with you without getting anything out of it? You can feel your thoughts spiraling out of control, but you can’t stop yourself from putting up the walls you so desperately wanted to keep down forever last night. It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, despite his claim that he likes you. He probably just meant that he’d like to fool around with you. Like he does with everyone else. You can’t let one night beside him make you think you’re special to him, no matter how badly you want to be.

Knowing you won’t make it through the day without driving yourself completely mad with questions and doubts, you dig your old phone and charger out of a drawer and go after Jimin. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter staring down at Yoongi’s phone when you steal his attention.

“Please take this,” you plead, thrusting the phone and charger towards him.

He looks from the device to you and blinks a few times in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a little old, but if your sim card didn’t get damaged I’m sure it will work in this. I kept putting off bringing it to be recycled.” You laugh nervously as you try to place it in his hand. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Take it.”

“I can’t accept this, princess. It’s too much,” Jimin says, staring down at the object in your hands.

“Take it for me. If I have to go another day without being able to send you memes I’ll die.”

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

“Memes, nudes, the weather forecast. Who cares? I wanna text you. Please take it.”

He licks his lips and smirks at your joke. Was it a joke? It’s hard to tell. He accepts it anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you later?”

“You’d better,” you tease, offering the grandest smile you can manage before retreating with a slow saunter back to your room.

There’s that view again. He could watch your ass sway in those teeny shorts all day. It takes every last ounce of self control he possesses to pick up Yoongi’s phone and dial Tae rather than sprint back into your room and pin you to the bed. It doesn’t stop him from daydreaming about it though, even as his friend answers.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

“What are we doing?” Jimin stands in the sprawling living room of Taehyung and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Both are from wealthy families that are all too ready to give their sons everything that matches the silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve been blessed with a bachelor pad that looks more like a college movie set than anything normal one would find around campus.

“Pick up a controller,” Tae tells Jimin, completely absorbed in the race on their oversized flat screen TV.

Jungkook hasn’t even acknowledged Jimin’s presence yet. Focused doesn’t even begin to describe the way his eyes bore into the television. He doesn’t break from his trance until he wins. Only then does he sit back with a smug grin, dropping the controller in his lap and just barely resisting the urge to gloat.

Taehyung drops his controller too, turning to give Jungkook a congratulatory fist bump. “Take his place,” he says to Jimin.

Jungkook has already vacated his place on the hallowed futon and moved to the row of cup noodles sitting on the counter. The first cup is half empty before Jimin even sits down.

“I suck at these games, Tae,” Jimin grumbles.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be good. It’s a ploy to get you relaxed enough to talk about y/n.” Taehyung smiles, knowing Jimin can’t refuse now that he’s cornered.

“What about her?” He feigns nonchalance, as if he didn’t just spend last night catching feelings along with your lips between his own.

Taehyung scoffs, half bewildered, half disgusted. “Come on, Jimin. She’s amazing. You like her.”

“I barely know her,” Jimin replies. It’s a lie he can taste like copper on his tongue. He knows your favorite food, where you grew up, what you study, and he’s already programmed your birthday into his borrowed phone so he won’t forget.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Okay then. If you don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna shoot my shot. She’s funny, and nice, and her pussy is so bomb it makes me wanna get married, so if you’re not gonna do something about that then I will.”

Jungkook cackles from the kitchen. “Did you fuck Jimin’s girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jimin grumbles, staring daggers at Jungkook, just as Taehyung says that he did not.

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

“I know you like her,” Tae prods. “She’s not some materialistic bitch who’s gonna leave you if you can’t afford lavish dates every other day. She’s a good, genuine person. She just wants your time and your attention. Maybe your heart. She doesn’t care about the other stuff.”

“Yeah? So I can bring her back to this futon after I buy her dinner from the dollar menu?” Jimin’s nose starts to tingle, months worth of frustrations finally reaching a breaking point. “I can’t get in a relationship right now and you know she’s not a fuckbuddy kind of girl.

“Right, because I didn’t eat her out in my car for fun last week.” He’d date you in a heartbeat if you wanted him. But he knows it’s Jimin you want and he’s more than happy to push the two of you together to see you both happy. He values friendship above all things.

“If that’s all you want from her, fine. But I think you and I both know it’s not and she’s too good for you to string along. If you’re just gonna break her heart, do it now before she falls any harder for you.”

“Why, so you can swoop in and be the good guy again? So you can get her off in your backseat?” The words are venom dripping from his mouth.

“Bro.”

Jimin softens. Tae is his dearest friend. He knows he only has his best interests at heart.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses and sighs. “We talked about Jeongsik last night. She knows my parents cut me off.”

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

“Now she knows I’m not good enough but it didn’t seem to deter her at all.”

“‘Cause you are good enough and now she can see your true worth as a person, which is a thousand times better than the fake worth of money.”

Jimin seems to consider this for a moment but then expresses the concern gnawing at his insides. “What if she really is just another person who wants to idolize me? I’m really into her, but I need it to be more than that.”

“Jimin—”

“What if she’s after the meaningless title of being Park Jimin’s girl... like every other girl that has pursued me lately?” The words make him cringe. He’s humble and kind, not one to throw bouquets at himself, but those thoughts are intrusive and hard to ignore.

“Tch. Do you know her at all? Do you really think that matters to her?”

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

“She admires you. You like her. Stop making it so complicated and let go of those ifs. You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to see you try because you deserve to be happy,” Tae insists, starting a new game. “Now pick up that controller. I wanna kick your ass.”

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

You’ve spent the better part of your Saturday afternoon picking out your outfit for tonight. Yoongi only teased you twice before helping you select something a little bit more slutty than you’d normally pull out for a date. You’re going to a party after all, not some Sunday brunch with your friends.

When it’s almost time for you to meet up with Jimin you find yourself growing increasingly nervous. You run your hand over your thigh and down your calf, testing for any stubble you might have missed in your meticulous hour-long shaving session. On your way back up you tug on your skirt, eyeing it as though your gaze can simply increase its length. When was the last time you wore this dress?

You adjust and fuss over the way your tits fit inside the garment and puff air out of your cheeks. Yoongi squints at you from across the room. Your door is wide open after all.

“Stop worrying so much.” He sighs and clicks his tongue, crossing the room until he can see you in perfect clarity. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid. I should change. Jimin’s gonna think I’m weird if I wear this.” You try to turn and run back to your closet.

Yoongi plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you back to face the full-length mirror hanging over your door. “Look at yourself. Jimin’s gonna think you’re the hottest one at the party. Look at that makeup game.” He gestures to your face. “Wooo! So strong! Wow!”

Your lips twitch into a smile. Yoongi can be so sweet when he’s not busy pretending like he isn’t the softest man on earth.

“What if he doesn’t actually want me?” you ask, strings of doubt still plucking at your insecurity.

“He does,” he says with all the comfort you need in this moment. “I can tell with these kinds of things, you know.”

“That your like, weird sage sense you’re always telling me about? Reading the horoscopes doesn’t make you a fortune teller.”

He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of my power. Have I been wrong before?”

He hasn’t been, at least not with the advice he’s given you.

You exhale a huge breath and cock your head to inspect your appearance one more time. “What if you’re wrong?”

He hums a soft sound before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Then he’s an idiot.”

A knock saves him from the overbearing hug you’re about to give him. He practically sprints towards the door. “That must be him! Pull your skirt up a little, would you? You’re not a nun and it’s gonna ride up anyway.” He pauses with his hand on the deadbolt and drops his tone to a rather loud, strained whisper. “Wait. What underwear are you wearing?”

Your eyes widen and your brows furrow as you angrily march over to your strappy heels and begin to put them on. “Why does it matter?” you whisper back.

“Are they the beige ones?”

“No!” Your hushed tone threatens to break into a shriek. “You know those are my period panties.”

“Please tell me they’re not the green ones.”

“Yoongi!” You get frustrated and lift your skirt just enough to show off a bit of the black lace adorning your buttcheeks as you lift your foot onto the nearby stool to finish setting the strap in place. “Satisfied?”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Good. Those are good.”

He opens the door faster than you can register the action. Jimin catches the flash of lace and more skin than he’s meant to see as you swing your leg down off the stool and adjust your dress. Heat flushes your face as you meet Jimin’s gaze. His eyes are wide and he licks his lips before nervously clearing his throat. He nonchalantly drops his hands and holds them together in front of his pelvis.

“You-You look good,” he stammers, completely stunned by your appearance.

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile. Park Jimin gets flustered? Who’d have thought?

He thought you were beautiful before but he’s never seen you like this. You’re completely decked out and drop dead gorgeous. He’s almost worried he’ll feel inadequate standing next to you tonight but it doesn’t stop him from wanting you by his side, hanging on his arm. He wants everyone to know that he’s there with you.

The pair of you stand there looking at one another and Yoongi slowly turns from Jimin to you, then back to Jimin.

“Have everything?” Yoongi prods, trying to get you to move so he can get on with his evening of relaxation and lazing about.

That seems to break you from your stupor and you nod and walk forward to hook your arm around Jimin’s. Before you get too far Yoongi calls to you and tests your reflexes by tossing your keys. You’ll need those if Yoongi is dead to the world asleep by the time you get home, which is quite possible. You’re not the most dextrous person but Jimin catches them and smiles at you. When you try to take them from his fingertip he moves his hand away and you swipe at the air. He offers to keep them in his pocket and you gratefully oblige. You pull your phone from its confines against your breast and check on the status of your uber with one hand while slipping your other into Jimin’s.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jin’s party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. It looks like something out of a movie. There are glowsticks, red solo cups, a buffet table of snacks, and loud music by the large inground pool. People inside and outside of this big ass frat house are grinding up on each other, dancing, and spilling their drinks on one another. It’s a little overwhelming honestly. You’ve never been much of a party person and this is a monster-sized one.

Jimin takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring smile. “You want a drink, princess?”

“Yeah.” You grin and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your insides melt at the sound of his voice. You know whatever happens tonight you’ll be okay with him by your side.

Jimin keeps you close all night, drinking and dancing and stealing the occasional quick kiss. It's pretty clear to everyone who's paying attention that there's something going on between you. You came with Jimin, you're there with Jimin, you're leaving with Jimin. Either Jungkook wasn't paying attention, or he just plain doesn't care. The moment Jimin leaves you alone to run to the bathroom, Jungkook steps up behind you in the chair you’re sitting on.

"Hey, y/n!" He smiles, all teeth and sleepy eyes. You can smell the whiskey on his breath when you turn to face him. "You look so pretty tonight."

"Thanks, Kook." You know he's one of Jimin and Tae’s closest friends. If you just hang with him until Jimin gets back, you'll be able to avoid the advances of all the weird guys here you aren't familiar with. "I like your boots," you tell him, looking down.

He follows your gaze to his feet. "Me too, I hope no one barfs on them tonight," he laughs, lifting his face back up to yours. The words are slightly slurred but you’re still able to decipher them.

His eyes definitely linger on your cleavage on their way back up. By the looks of it, he's on the short list of people who might end up barfing on those shoes. He holds his liquor well, but if you had to guess you'd say he's had more than he should have at this point in the night.

"So, I was talking to Taehyung recently," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of his sentence seems to get lost in translation on the way to his mouth.

"And?" You smile at him and realize he’s probably too drunk to have anything of worth to say but you wait anyway.

"He told me something." Jungkook smiles so big his nose crinkles and he giggles like it’s the biggest secret in the universe.

You puzzle for a moment over what could have him so giddy before remembering that Taehyung is intimately familiar with your o-face. You'd gotten so close with him over the last two weeks that the details of your first time hanging out had completely slipped your mind. Jungkook is definitely about to say something crass.

"What did he tell you?" you ask, fearing you already know the answer.

Jungkook leans in closer so he can whisper in your ear. An amused giggle spills from his lips like he can’t contain the punchline to a joke only he knows. Somehow he gets his tone under control and finally speaks. "He told me your pussy tastes like heaven and what a coincidence," he pauses, "I haven't had dessert."

Jimin finds his way back to you just as you've moved to elbow Jungkook off your chair. Unfortunately, the alcohol in your system has your brain a little fuzzy and you misjudge the distance and location. You end up elbowing Jungkook right in the dick. Hard.

A circle clears around you as Jungkook doubles over in pain. Jimin steps up next to you, looking down at his friend and trying to piece together what might have led to you inflicting bodily harm.

Jungkook goes from bending over, to squatting, to laying on his side on the floor. He rolls onto his back still clutching the jewels despite the audience of people who have stopped to observe.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

“Watch the boots,” you remind him as Jimin leans down to help him up and leads him towards something he can barf in. Through the crowd of people, you can see him just barely make it to a trash can in the kitchen. Gross.

Jimin gives Jungkook a pat on the back as he retches and reaches over him to grab a handful of jello shots off the counter. He returns with the rainbow of little cups clutched in each hand. The crowd seems to go back to their business of dancing and talking amongst one another, the random altercation just a fleeting moment in the night.

"What'd he do?" Jimin asks, holding his hand out to you so that you can make your selection.

"He came on to me." You shrug, picking a blue cup and popping the lid off.

"That's it? You elbowed him in the balls for hitting on you?" Jimin raises his eyebrows in shock and laughs.

"Well, it was kind of an accident. But," you pause to bring the plastic shot glass up to your lips, "he insinuated that he wanted to go down on me." You dip your tongue into the Jello and swirl it around the perimeter of its plastic casing.

Jimin watches you gather all the Jello up onto your tongue with rapt attention. He's growing so hard watching your tongue work like that. It’s driving him insane. He wants to feel it on him instead. He’s also now acutely aware of how badly he wants to swirl his tongue around your cunt, just like that.

"That makes two of us," he confesses with an enamored sigh. His hands are still full of Jello shots but that doesn’t stop him from holding your face between them.

He fiercely smashes his mouth to yours and you cave to the welcome intrusion of his tongue. It presses against yours, curling around it as he sucks the blue raspberry flavor from your mouth. You drop the empty cup to the floor and reach for his belt instead, pulling him against you until you can feel him pressed up against your stomach, hard and needy. He grinds his pelvis against you to be sure you can feel him.

“You feel that baby?” he asks, his tone low and sultry.

You grind back with a muffled hum. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re practically dry-humping each other next to the crowd of other sweaty, writhing couples. While Jimin likes how this feels, he’d like to regain the use of his hands. Jello shots be damned.

He pulls away for a second and looks around, depositing all but one of the unopened cups into the hands of the next person that walks by before he squeezes the chosen red one out on his tongue. He leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again. You can still taste artificial strawberry on his tongue. You're not even sure he swallowed before you started trying to lick his tonsils but you don't care. You want him now. You need him.

His thoughts are much the same as his free hand wanders down your back, dipping lower for just a second to feel the curve of your ass and squeeze. When you gasp he takes a step back and looks at you through hazy lust-drunk eyes. His lips are red from the gelatinous treat. You’d love to try and suck the color right out of them.

"Princess," he pants, his hands grabbing at your hips.

"Jimin," you breathe back, pulling him closer again. "Come home with me." It's not really an invitation. He'd be coming back with you anyway since he's currently living on your couch, but this has a different meaning and you both know it. It’s a plea for him to take you to bed.

You make out on the front lawn while you wait for the uber. You make out in the back of the uber on your way home. You make out on the way up the stairs and you leave a heart shaped love bite on his neck while he uses your keys to open the door. You make out pressed against the kitchen counter, and in the hallway.

Yoongi watches the pair of you act like he’s invisible as you stumble your way around the apartment. He has a spoonful of Fruit Loops half-lifted to his gaping mouth and finally takes his bite when you’ve made it to your room. Thank god you closed the door.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin isn't as shy this time about laying his weight over you once you’ve dropped down onto your bed. You’re warm and he seeks the heat of your body as your hands explore the taught muscles of his chest. They dance around his belt, slipping up over the curve of his perfectly round ass so you can squeeze and pull him against you, inviting him to grind his solid cock into you. Your movements get slower and more focused when you unbutton his shirt. He tugs it off his shoulders and throws it to the floor before helping you pull that tiny excuse of a dress over your head.

You're thanking your lucky stars you had the foresight to put on a matching set, despite how foolishly hopeful it felt at the time. The way Jimin is drinking you in wrapped in nothing but a little bit of black lace is making your head spin, or maybe that's the alcohol.

He sits back on his heels beside you, trailing his fingertips from your throat to the valley between your breasts. He skims over your belly button then side sweeps over your hip and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

"Wanna take those heels off, princess?" he asks, scooting toward them on his knees.

"I can do it," you insist, planning on making a show of dropping what's left of your modesty. You aren't counting on the way the room turns when you stand up too fast. Luckily, Jimin's reflexes are quick and his hands on your hips steady you before you can actually fall. Standing up is also doing something terrible to your stomach. It rolls and clenches and your anxiety skyrockets.

Parties aren't really your thing, and while Jimin might be drunk he is damn good at controlling it. On the contrary, it's becoming increasingly apparent that you are completely hammered.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, concern dripping from his tone. He stands up and turns you both so you can sit on the edge of your bed.

"I think... I'm drunk," you confess, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like crying.

"I think you're right, baby," he agrees, squatting down to unbuckle the ankle straps on your heels. "Let's get you some water."

Your stomach flips again and time slows as you feel the contents of the evening rise in the back of your throat. Panicking, you look to Jimin with wide eyes and a hand flying up to your mouth. He spins around looking for anything to catch what's surely coming and upends your little trash can. Candy wrappers and old class notes fall to the floor. He thrusts the can under your face just as a rainbow of Jello shots and reappears.

"I'm so sorry," you cry between heaves, tears streaking your make-up down your face.

"Shhh," Jimin soothes, gathering your hair away from your face. When he's sure you've finished, he disappears from the bedroom with the offending trash can and you're left with your horrible, alcohol twisted thoughts.

He's going to think you're pathetic and disgusting. Why on earth did you think you could drink that much?

Jimin returns with a glass of water before you can get much further into your self-deprecation.

"You're never gonna fuck me now," you blabber, your filter lost. Your thoughts are a jumble of sadness and muddled lust.

Jimin laughs. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna fuck you like this. I didn't realize you were this drunk," he softly says. It's a caring statement, not even a little bit condescending.

You should be grateful that he wants you sober for sex, but it only makes you cry harder because you really just want him so badly and you're absolutely certain you've ruined your chances beyond repair. So, you do the only thing that makes sense right now and cry harder.

Jimin wraps his arms around you and leans close to your ear. "I want to, you know. I want to lay you down and touch you all over." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "I want to taste you, feel you. I want to be inside you so badly, but not like this."

"Please," you whine.

"Sober up first, okay?" he coaxes. "Can I help you get some pajamas? Brush your teeth?"

"Okay," you sniffle.

Jimin smooths his hand up your back, tracing the black lace band of your bra with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to take this off?”

You nod, reaching behind you to unfasten the clasp while Jimin reaches down to the floor for the button down shirt he discarded. He averts his eyes while you shed your bra, then holds his shirt open for you. You slip into it but don’t bother to button it up before walking to your door. He helps you get to the bathroom but you insist on doing it yourself so you can clean up and assess just how fucked up you really look right now.

When you close the door behind you, he makes sure to quietly apologize to Yoongi, who is still scrubbing the trash bin Jimin brought out earlier. Yoongi reaches into the cabinet for the bottle of Advil and gestures to a glass of water already on the counter.

Jimin waits for you to open the door and when you finally do he's relieved that you haven't fallen asleep. You've washed the makeup from your tear-streaked face and brushed your teeth. You've even pulled your hair back so it's no longer in the way. You look at him through a hazy apologetic lens as he offers you Advil and water. The last thing you want to do is ingest anything but if it will help you in the morning, you'll try it for his sake.

The journey from the bathroom back into your room is a blur. All you can think about is crawling back into bed and sleeping this awful feeling away. You struggle with the covers for a moment until Jimin helps you slide underneath them.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you plead in a weak voice.

"Why are you sorry? I don't hate you," he assures you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He's shirtless. He could have been naked pounding your pussy stupid if you didn't overdo it on the drinks. You hate yourself a little bit for botching this chance, but if he could just put his arms around you again maybe you’d feel okay, like you didn’t blow it.

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

The light in the room disappears and the mattress sinks behind you. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and his fingers twine with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers when you squeeze his hand.

The heat of his breath brushes against your neck but you don’t close your eyes. You’re too dizzy. Instead you focus on the soothing rhythm of his breathing until the weight of your eyelids wins out against the nausea and sleep finally claims you.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Your ringtone wakes you late, when the sun in your room is far too bright to be any time before ten. The sound is grating and irritating and you pull your pillow over your head to block it out. Jimin reaches for the phone, you can feel his weight shift and the heat of his skin when he hovers over you.

"Hello?" His voice is gruff and coarse with sleep.

Peeking out from beneath the pillow, you look over to him. His eyes are still closed and your phone is laying on his bare chest, speaker on and screen lit up.

"Gimme your bae," Jungkook's voice calls through the phone.

"She's sleeping," Jimin tells him. Looking in your direction, he meets your eyes and smiles.

You vaguely remember him making you drink more water last night, giving you Advil, and tucking you in. It's a very pleasant surprise to find that you aren’t horribly hungover.

"Wake her up," Jungkook whines. "Bro. She hit me so hard."

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

"I know," Jungkook agrees. "That's why I'm calling. Can I talk to her please?"

"You're on speaker."

"Hi, y/n. I got your number from Tae."

"Hi Kook," you croak.

"I'm sorry I was a douche last night. I get stupid when I drink whiskey."

"I accept your apology. Don’t do it again. How's your dick?" you ask, scooting closer to Jimin and laying your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. The gesture makes you feel warm all over. He likes you.

"It hurts but I'll live. Sorry. For real. Do you guys wanna go eat later?" he asks you both.

Jimin answers this time. "Maybe. We have stuff to do first. I'll text you." He hangs up before Jungkook can say more.

“What stuff are we doing, hmm?” you question with a giggle, trying to play coy.

“Depends how you’re feeling, princess,” Jimin replies, leaning over you again to deposit your phone on your nightstand. He lingers above you, prompting the cautious exploration of your fingers on his chest.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the awful taste in your mouth. In fact, you feel gross all over. Not exactly the way you want to experience sex with Jimin for the first time.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you tell him, wiggling out from under his body. “You must think I am the worst, most unattractive human.”

“No,” Jimin says with a giggle. “I think you’re sexy and sweet. I really like you y/n.”

“Nobody likes me.” You scoff at him in disbelief.

“It’s rude to call people nobodies, don’t you think? Especially when they’ve just confessed their feelings,” Jimin teases, sitting up beside you.

“Well, let me at least brush my teeth,” you tell him, holding his shirt closed around you while you rise from the bed. You step around the clean trash can that’s been placed at the side of your bed thanks to Yoongi, noting that there is also a neat row of condoms on your nightstand and a note that reads ‘be done by 5 i wanna watch Dragonball Z after work.’

You laugh and quickly take care of your morning bathroom routine in record time so you can make use of Yoongi’s gift.

When you come back to your room, Jimin is watching you. His lips are drawn down in a pout, his eyes are half closed, and his chest, still bare, rises and falls heavily with each breath he takes as he rakes his eyes over your bare legs and up. His shirt hangs open on your body, leaving a strip of skin visible from your throat to your panties. He licks his lips when your fingers drag a slow line up that strip.

Parting the soft fabric further, you let it fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. Jimin sits up for a better view and you wait for embarrassment to strike. It never happens. Instead, his gaze emboldens you. He looks wrecked already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

His assurance pulls you forward, one foot in front of the other until you’re close enough to touch and his hands are on your hips as you climb over him. He leans back under you as you push forward, connecting your lips with a force that borders on overeager. You can feel him smile against your lips and self-consciously, you will yourself to calm down. You have all day, there’s no need to rush.

When your kisses become soft and patient Jimin decides to take the initiative. He has to have you. He wants to be inside you. He sits up and sinks his hands into the flesh of your ass and begins to pull you down so he can grind up against your clothed cunt. When you moan his eyes roll back for a second and he buries his face into your neck to muffle the sound of his own. His tongue works in circles against you, giving you a taste of what’s to come before sucking a spot that has you burying your hand in his hair and grinding yourself down on him with need. He licks a hot stripe to your ear so he can whisper in it. In an instant he’s flipping you around on your back and grinding his pelvis against yours, allowing the dark desire to consume him.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling my cock on that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Yeah,” you whine, circling your legs around his hips. You can’t manage much more than that breathy reply, he is intoxicating and already you are drunk on his fumes.

“I hear it’s the sweetest. Made me so fucking jealous to hear Tae talk about you like that. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“God did Tae just go around telling everyone?” you pause when the friction rubs against your clit just right. “Oh fuck,” you moan, imaging the pillowy soft press of his lips on your more intimate areas.

He chuckles in response. “No,” he assures you. “Just Jungkook and me. Don’t worry,” he says, persuading you with a careful roll of his hips that has his shaft parting your folds despite the layers of clothing between you. “He won’t talk about it anymore, and you’ll forget all about it by the time we’re done here. I’m gonna eat your sweet little cunt until mine are the only lips you remember.”

“Please,” you whimper, drawing him into a needy kiss.

His fingers dip into the band of your panties and he teases and tugs at them until you’re squirming and begging him to take them off. His lips trail wet kisses down to your breasts and he pauses to take your nipple into his mouth as he carefully works your last remaining piece of clothing down your legs.

Nudging your legs apart again, he settles between them, ghosting the pads of his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he drags your nipple gently with his teeth. He switches to repeat the action on the other side and cautiously slips a finger between your folds, parting them and testing your wetness. Much to his delight, he already finds you soaked.

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

“Be patient for me, princess. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He sits back on his knees between your thighs and uses his thumbs to smear your arousal over your lips. He groans something deep and tortured when he spreads them open.

“Y/n, holy fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his praise. It feels like some kind of worship the way he looks down at your cunt, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His satisfied hum is like a hymn to the divine way your hot, slick walls squeeze him, a prayer to the mere idea of having that wet heat wrapped around his needy cock.

“Tae didn’t tell me you were so tight,” Jimin admits, looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“He only used his mouth,” you tell him, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I’ll never forget his lips if you keep talking about him.”

That seems to spark a fire in Jimin. His eyes grow dark and wild. He wants to ruin you. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh and begins sucking marks into the soft flesh while his fingers continue to pump inside of you. He slowly works his way down, making sure the red spots he leaves behind are sufficient enough to last for days. He makes sure you’ll have the reminder of his face between your legs every time you look down.

“Jimin don’t tease,” you beg, bucking your hips up to seek the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not teasing,” he chides. “I am savoring.” He curls his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit, making your legs jolt. “Trust the process.”

“Jimin--,” you start again, but you’re cut off by the first touch of his lips. It’s barely there, just the ghost of a kiss on your mound. It’s immediately followed by the flat of his tongue, pressing down as he moves it lower, slipping his fingers out as he descends. His tongue parts your folds instead, circling your dripping hole and then dipping inside it.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fuck, you’re sweet.” He spreads you with his thumbs again and goes back for more, lapping at your wet cunt, swirling around your clit, sucking your folds into his lips. But it’s not just the action, it’s the drive behind it. He’s insatiable, moaning at the taste, bucking his hips into the mattress when you whine for him.

Your fingers tangle through his silver hair, twisting and pulling as he devotes himself to your undoing. He moves with you when you grind up against his jaw, stealing a glance up at your face. Jimin feels his cock twitch at the sight of you; breasts heaving, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He’s leaking so much precum he can feel it soaking through his boxer-briefs. He’s almost afraid he’s going to lose it and cum in his pants.

“You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, lifting his face to push his fingers back inside. He pumps them hard, curling and searching for that elusive spot while he presses soft kisses to your clit. He alternates between flicking his tongue and rubbing against it with his lips, pausing every few seconds to whisper encouragements with warm breath puffed over your swollen bud.

“Come on, baby. Do it for me. Cum for me, princess. Let me taste it.”

“Please Jimin. Pleeeeease. I need you to suck it. Suck it harder,” you beg. “Right there. There! Don’t stop! Please! I’m so close.”

Jimin keeps steady for you despite your trembling thighs. He pounds your g-spot while he sucks as hard as you can take. Your mind goes totally blank, consumed by an orgasm so powerful you can see fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. Heat spreads from your core down your legs, up your spine.

“I’m cu— cumming— Jimiiiiin!” you cry, legs trapping his head like a vice. Your fingers leave his hair in favor of squeezing at your breasts as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips when he doesn’t let up after you’ve come down from your high.

“Take your pants off,” you pant, shoving at his head.

He finally pops off with a grin, his chin and lips covered in your slick.

“What if I’m not finished down here?” he teases, dipping his head back down to lick a stripe up your slit. Your whole body jumps when he touches your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh?” he feigns shock. “Sensitive?” he smugly asks, going back for one more taste.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you tell him, lazily pulling your legs up and turning your body away from him. You keep your eyes on him as you turn just enough to hang your head off the edge of the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he asks, standing slowly. The tent in his pants is obscene.

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs, tugging the zipper down on his jeans and letting them and his underwear fall to his ankles. He kicks them off and steps in front of you, smiling down at your upside down face, a little dumbfounded to have you wanting and willing to have him like this.

Your mouth waters at the sight of the swollen mauve tip standing at attention. He’s rock hard and so thick you’re not sure you can take him in your mouth, or your cunt for that matter. You’re glad he warmed you up with his fingers because you’re already clenching tight at the thought of that thick cock splitting you in two.

He reaches for the row of condoms as you take him in your hand and give him a few pumps. Just as he rips off one of the packets, you guide him towards the entrance of your mouth. You swirl your tongue against the tip and he drops everything, focusing on the way you tease him instead.

He inhales sharply. “Fuck. Who’s the tease now?”

You run your tongue along his shaft and smile when you get to the tip, giving it a quick kiss. “I’m savoring. What happened to trusting the process?”

He drags his lip through his teeth and clenches his jaw as you put his patience to the test but lucky for him you’re kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. You close your lips around him a moment later, reaching around his hips to guide him deeper, controlling the depth of his thrusts until he learns your limits and leans over you. With his hands on your breasts he rolls his hips. He can feel the tip of his cock bumping the back of your throat. He moans when you gag around him.

“That’s it, princess. Suck it. Just like that,” he praises.

Jimin is careful with his pace, and tender with his touch when he twists your nipples. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can take this just fine, despite the fact that your mouth feels fucking incredible. It’s when he watches you part your thighs and slip your hand between them to finger yourself while he fucks your mouth that he realizes he’s got none of the control he was so certain of. His balls tighten and he pulls out quickly and squeezes them, pinching at the tip of his cock and leaving you gasping for the breath you couldn’t catch with him in your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need a second,” he huffs, eyes closed, standing perfectly still. He breathes slowly and deeply. If you could peek into his brain you’re sure you’d see any number of boring things trying to distract him from the image of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you sucked his cock. It’s futile. He’s certain he’ll see it in his dreams.

“Did I do something wrong?” you wonder, shuffling around so that you’re laying back on your pillows.

Jimin ignores your question. He knows you’re well aware he almost came in your mouth. “I need to be inside you like, now,” he says, picking up the condom again.

You watch him tear it open and roll it on with his one knee pressed into the mattress and his other foot on the floor.

"Come on then," you coax, opening your legs for him to crawl between.

He pushes two fingers inside you on his way up, dragging them out slowly and smearing your wetness around your pussy before he lines his cock up and sinks in to the hilt in one smooth press.

You gasp as he fills you, feeling the stretch of his girth, and he hushes your whimpering and brushes his nose against yours. "I'm sorry baby," he soothes. "I'll go slow." He seals the promise with a kiss before hiking your legs up high around his waist and wrapping his arms around you.

He lies still like this, waiting for the green light while he kisses you breathless. He moves to your neck when you break away to inhale, sucking more little bruises in the skin there. "Tell me when."

"Move," you moan. "Move. Fuck me."

Jimin pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip inside. He pushes back in just as slow, repeating the action several times until it looks like you're about to cry.

You need it so badly. It feels cruel to have him rocking so gently inside you when all you want is to be ruined by him. "Harder," you plead.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me beg," you whine.

"What if I want you to beg?" he jokes, dropping his hips against you. It's almost hard enough to satisfy you.

"Then I'll beg."

Jimin groans, dropping his head to your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He pounds into you, forcing the air from your lungs with his powerful thrusts, rolling his hips like his life depends on it. "You're so fucking good for me, princess. So tight. Feels so fucking good."

"Go faster," you tell him, grabbing a handful of his ass.

Shifting higher on his knees, he picks up the pace. Sweat beads on his forehead and over his lip. It beads in the dip of his cupid's bow and you lick it away before raking his bottom lip through your teeth.

“You feel my fat cock baby?" he asks. You moan in response pulling your legs higher so he can fuck you even deeper. "You like the way I fill you, don't you? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Take it," he grunts. "You take it so fucking well. You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

Jimin pulls out when you start to clench, not quite edging you but stealing the pleasure you were high on nonetheless. You whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering wildly around nothing.

"Can we try something?" he asks, lifting your legs and putting them to the side.

"What did you have in mind?" you wonder. You reach for his cock but he's already moving, nudging at your hips until you turn.

"Up on your knees for me, princess," he instructs. He kneels behind you once you're in position and smooths his hand up your spine, guiding you gently down onto your elbows. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” you assure him, wiggling your hips a little to get him moving again.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, dragging it through your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Finally, he pushes back inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of arousal with the stretch of his girth. It’s deeper like this and impossibly you feel even more full than you did before.

“Oh, Jimin,” you sigh, dropping your face into your folded arms. “Jimin.”

“Good?” He folds himself over you, pressing his chest to your back and sliding his hands from your hips to your breasts.

You thrust yourself back into him as you answer. “Perfect. You?”

It takes him by surprise but he follows your lead. He drives himself into your cunt while massaging your breasts and kissing your back. “Fuck, y/n…” he moans, letting his teeth drag over your shoulder before he bites down.

You hiss at the sting and he soothes it with his tongue and puckered lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous taking my cock like this. Feel how deep I am. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Jimin? Jimin, I need—,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What, princess? What do you need?” he questions, releasing a breast to play with your clit instead. “Want me to pull your hair? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

He lays down beside you and grabs at your waist, guiding you over his cock and holding on tight as you drop your weight and take him completely. Swiveling your hips, you set a pace slow and steady. Jimin’s thumbs rubs soft circles into your skin as you move.

“Go faster,” he urges, unable to keep his hips from rising to meet yours.

You shake your head ‘no’ and continue with your slow rolling pace.

“Please, y/n. Ride it like you wanna cum with me.”

Smirking devilishly, you slow down even more and lean over him with your hands on either side of his head.

He looks down, watching your breasts sway and the way his cock disappears over and over.

“Fuck, y/n. PLEASE,” he whines, roughly grabbing your hips and pounding up into you.

Your startled laugh quickly turns into desperate cries of his name. His cock hits your g-spot directly. It feels so good you don’t even think you need him to touch your clit to make you cum. But he does. He pinches your bud between his fingers while he slams into you, growling and moaning and begging you to cum with him.

“I’m close,” he grunts, licking his fingers and rubbing furiously at your clit.

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t have time to finish the thought as he takes you over the edge with him. He slams his head back against the pillows as he pumps his hips and cums to the wild pulsing of your orgasm. Your cunt milks every last drop from him and you cry his name, clutching his wrists and letting your head fall back so you can wail your pleasure at the ceiling.

Jimin gasps, picking up his head to look down at how your pussy spreads open around him. Your slick cum coats the condom and his mouth waters, remembering the sweet tang of your taste. You’ve barely stopped grinding on him when he sits up to push you down on your back.

Pulling out, he kneels beside the bed and pulls you to the edge by your legs so he can gently lick you clean. He exhales a hot and heavy breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up to peel the loaded condom off his softening cock.

“That was… wow,” you pant, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as you try to regain your breath.

He’s already back at your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you towards his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees while softly combing his fingers through your hair. He’s tired.

You smile against his sweaty chest and plant a soft salty kiss against him. Through the corner of your eye you see the row of untouched condoms on your nightstand. “We’ve got a lot left. Wanna go again?”

He hums a deep throaty sound and laughs when your hand falls to his limp cock. “I want to, but I need a bit to recharge. I can make you cum again while we wait. Do you want that, baby?”

“I always want that. But you don’t have to.”

The groan in his throat sounds croaky as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I want to.”

He reaches down to wedge his fingers between your thighs and your whole body jumps at the sensitive sensation. How dare your body betray you in this moment?

“Seems like you might need time to recharge too,” he teases while nuzzling against the top of your head and squeezing you in a warm embrace against him. “I’m okay with just laying here and holding you.”

“Yeah?” You smile and cross your leg over his to get more comfortable. “Mmm. You can always help me study for the next test while you’re here.”

Laughter bubbles from his throat. “Are you trying to seduce me for answers to the exam? You know I don’t grade them, right.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, barely containing your giggles as you look up at him. “I don’t think I need to seduce anyone for answers. My head feels a little clearer now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he prods while playfully ghosting his fingers down your side.

“Because I know I can be distracted outside of class now instead. I mean, if you wanna keep doing this,” you explain while nervously drumming your fingertips on his chest. “I know I’m not anything special, but—”

Jimin lifts your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss. “You are,” he whispers when he pulls away.

You lick your lips and blink a few times. “I was gonna say you make me feel like I am the most special vanilla ice cream cone on the planet.”

His shy, warm smile fills your stomach with butterflies even as he makes his joke. “Want me to lick you up?”

“And so much more.”

It’s a weighted confession. You sit up to look at him so he knows this. He purses his lips and casts his away. He was avoiding this conversation.

“I don’t know how much more I can give you. I want to be what you deserve, but things are so hard right now. I don’t know that I can be someone who’s good enough for you. You deserve to be showered in gifts and taken on dates. You deserve to be given flowers every day. I don’t even have a car to take you somewhere for a vacation. I’m not sure I can be what you want.”

“Just be yourself,” you state plainly, cupping your hand around his jaw. “That’s what I want. So far I like the person I see. I like you, the real you.”

“I like you too,” he blurts, eyes snapping back to meet yours. “But I can’t afford—”

You press a finger to his lips. “I don’t need expensive dates or fancy gifts. I don’t need you to take care of me— well, last night was the exception and you didn’t need money for that. I just want you to be with me. Talk with me. Spend time with me. Maybe have lots of sex? I don’t know, we can figure out the rest later.” You laugh, embarrassed by your own boldness.

“You see everything that I am and you still want me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. Now I know for sure you’re too good for me. But,” he pauses and slips his hands into yours, “I want to keep seeing you. I like talking to you and the more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel about the choices I’ve made. No one’s ever made me feel so free. I want to hold onto that feeling. I want to hold onto you.”

You tell yourself not to cry as you straddle his waist and hover above his lips. “I’m yours then. Are you mine?”

He catches your lips between his and buries his hands in your hair. “I’m yours.”

[morrak]

Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 129

Last week was supposed to feature a(nother) philosophy of information science-flavored thingy. Come to think of it, so was the week before that. In keeping with the developing theme, this week won’t either — it’s still sitting on my nightstand, only slightly less unfinished than this time last month. So it goes. Instead:

Milling Operations in the Lathe, the 1984 fifth entry to the 'workshop practice series' by Argus Books Limited, written by one Tubal Cain. No, not that tubalcain. No, not that one either.

Should you wish to browse, you can find the whole thing on IA here.

The How

You may know I have a silly little lathe. You may also know I don’t have any sort of milling machine (though I have at times made the acquaintances of such). This is often a source of frustration — what happens when I want to make square thing instead of round ones? Nothing much, or at least nothing good.

Thankfully this is not an uncommon state of affairs; clockmakers and model engineers have been devising workarounds for lathe-only shops for ages. Sometimes they document these in obscure magazines or rotting forums or YouTube videos with audio that sounds like it came from the bottom of a well, all of which I of course love to root around in. Other, less convenient times, it ends up in books, but every once in a while, those books (like this one) end up online for free.

The Text

If, for some reason, you're trying to construct a working model steam loco using only a lathe and near-infinite disposable income in mid-80s Britain, you're gonna love this one.

Although I mentioned clockmakers in the previous section — and although Mr. Cain himself mentions them in his excellent first chapter — this is most definitely a book for model engineers. The machine builders, lathes, tooling, operations, and general scale of work described all concern the sort of guy who'll pour tremendous sums of money and time into small replica steam engines and practically no one else. I happen to find this charming, mostly.

Given this is pseudonymous, I can't pretend to know the author's chops. I can, however, speculate. Some similar books are written by people who aren't otherwise in the business of putting pen to paper. This feels different — it's easy to follow, efficient, and anticipates technical questions well. I'd have to compare it against other books in the series to say whether the editing is a similar standout feature, but at any rate it's quite good. I'm impressed; this could've sucked.

The Object

Overbright scan aside, I mostly really like the preparation and delivery. Two-column pages are the right choice, and although the EMPHASIS and SECTION SUBHEADS sometimes blend together, it's easy enough to track. The diagrams work and it's heavily illustrated, though usually for detail rather than concepts — skimming is a gamble.

Sure, some of the photos feel like the roughly staged progress shots you'd get on a mid-2000s machining forum, but that's not because the look is lazy, it's because it's timeless. It is also lazy, though. The technical drawings and tables are great but cramped, which is necessary but annoying.

That's unfair of me; this is clearly the labor of a lot of love, and it does what it wants to better than practically any hobbyist manual I've ever seen.

The Why, Though?

For one, because it's brimming with outlandish contraptions and cockamamie whatsits. Many of the specialty add-ons and one-off shop projects by contributors are very, very hard to find mentions of on the internet. The generations of tool design this captures oughtn't be forgotten. Of course, the selection is very, very British — mostly Myford lathes, for example — which skews the selection pretty badly. I know I have at least one follower with a Super 7, so maybe it's not a complete wash.

For two, because I have some small milling projects in the works. British (and model engineer, and moneyed) though I am not, there are several setups in this book — simple ones, mind you — I can approximate readily enough. Maybe some of that will get posted in the coming months.

[celticcrossanon]

Dear CC, I wrote this before I read your reading on Charles, but I’m posting this after I’ve read your reading. Since this is a long post, I’ll put it as submission

Many years ago, I was in a relationship with a Scorpio. It was a very difficult relationship, but I was totally enthralled by him, captivated by his magnetism and indifference to normal human conventions (in hindsight, it’s just psychopathy). In trying to understand the relationship (it still ended badly for me), I took to reading a lot about Scorpios.

Scorpios can be the best of men (or women), with unmatched charm and charisma, if they have grown with enlightenment. They will be those who soar high in life like eagles and burn as bright as the phoenix, entrancing everyone to love them or fall in love with them.

But if their growth has been stunted in some way, they can be the worst of humans. These are the grey lizard Scorpios, filled with misplaced sense of entitlement, jealousies, pettiness, vengeful, even evil. Scorpios can rise to become the greatest leaders; they can also devolve into psychopaths (allegedly, many criminals are Scorpios) (but allegedly, many of the best men/women of prominence are also Scorpios).

I sometimes think Charles is a grey lizard Scorpio, maybe a mild version, but a grey lizard nonetheless. I think he has become better in recent years as he gets older and become less self-absorbed, but I think he is still a grey lizard; the result of his upbringing (an absent mother (who was busy being queen) and a strict no-nonsense father who didn’t mollycoddle him) has left on him an indelible mark which he could not overcome. (Someone else, growing up under similar family dynamics may end up as an enlightened Scorpio, but not Charles it would seem). I think this is why some people find him abhorrent (maybe without really being able to say why exactly).

Personally, I find his jealousy of Diana’s popularity a big strike against his personality; and now thinking that perhaps he may be jealous of Catherine’s popularity (also of his own son, William’s popularity) make my estimation of Charles goes lower. And if he’s thinking of using one son against another (keeping Harry in the slimmed down monarchy to keep William in check) so as to preserve his own (Charles’) popularity as king (and possibly to get Camilla to be called Queen instead of Princess Consort), then I think Charles is indeed a grey lizard Scorpio. Just my thoughts. ~ aran   

********

Hi aran,

Thank you for this submission and for sharing your research with us <3

I agree that you can choose to be the 'higher' or 'lower' version of any part of your natal charts (sun sign, moon sign, angles, nodes etc). Unfortunately, some people seem stuck in the 'lower' versions and either don't have the internal resources to change, or they don't know how to change, or they refuse to change. I have a great deal of respect for those who do put the effort in to grow and to become better versions of themselves.

I will leave the rest of this here for people to ponder (or not, as they wish). :)

Complete Disclosure: While I am not a Scorpio, I have a very Plutonic chart, so I think it is better if I don't make any comments on the above. :)

Edited to Add: I am so sorry that you went through that terrible relationship. Things like that can leave deep scars on your soul. I hope you were able to heal and to move on to better things.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

[polkscastle]

New Pokemon News-Drop Today (My Thoughts

Pokemon is back at it again with more info on the upcoming Gen 5 remakes, as well as, Arceus: Legends. These were my thoughts on what we were shown: - Unite, Cafe ReMix, Masters, and GO: There's not much I have to say about these updates on Pokemon's running titles, mostly because (besides Pokemon GO) I don't play any of these. Unite holds no interest for me, with the option to dress up your pokemon as the only reason I'm slightly tempted to look at it. I played the original Cafe Mix for a week: thought it was cute but, disliked the puzzle gameplay. And, I just never looked into Masters. Maybe if I find some friends who really, really love these titles and want me to play with them, I'll consider playing these. But for now, let's get into why I woke up early just to see these announcements live... ----- - Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl: YES! YES!! YYEEESSSS!!!! I am SO HAPPY!! Maybe the choice of visual design threw people off at first but, these look so good. The style remains perfectly cute and charming. Plus, they are indeed changing things up and adding new elements to the remakes. My biggest concern when I saw the first announcement for these games was that (especially with another company in charge of development) they would stick too close to the design of the originals. It may only a few little touches that we know of so far, but I'm excited to see if there's more to come. My thoughts on each individual element: - Your Pokemon Follow You: You heard here, folks. The Pokemon Company is once again giving us partner Pokemon that follow you around in the overworld. You'd think such a detail wouldn't be that important but, it really does add to the experience of a Pokemon game. Done well, it helps you see your own Pokemmon as living partners rather than pawns in combat - Ball Capsules and Stickers are Back: WooHoo! It honestly isn't a surprise to see them here, but I'm still happy to see these back again. I don't remember fiddling with the ball capsules too much as a kid playing the Gen 5 games, yet I was still sad to see them go in later games. I thought it was such a cool idea to be able to personally edit the entrance effects of your Pokemon. - Updated Contests: Contests were not a big interest to me when I was playing the originals as a kid. However, I was hoping that they would update them in these remakes. So far, I like what I see. The dance and battle showcase portions of the original games seem to have been merged into a new rhythm mini-game, which is fine by me. I do hope to see the dress up accessories come back into play, especially if these can be worn by your Pokemon outside of the contests. I don't know, I think it'd be fun ^^ - Trainer Styles: Not the full avatar customization of the later generations, but still a nice addition. Good on you, Pokemon - Expanded Underground: Now, this is interesting. I was excited to be able to travel the Sinnoh Underground again, and now they've made it even better. The Pokemon Hide-aways look like a fun addition. And, (from what I've seen so far) these could be another solution to the whole Fire-type issue that Sinnoh was so infamous for. In summation, I was already set to get Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl, and these announcements only have me more stoked to see what they have in store. (Side note: My currant status on withholding myself from buying that new Switch Lite when I have a functioning Pokemon-themed Lite and am saving up for the full OLED model is... ...failing miserably. IT LOOKS SO COOL, YOU GUYS!!! T-T ) ----- - Legends Arceus: The perfect little cherry on top to this buffet of news. SWEET MERCY! This game is looking so GOOD! I want it so badly! Everything we saw in the initial announcement is so much more polished and breathtaking here. I can't wait for it to come out. And to put this out there, I love the addition of Action Order battle mechanics. I don't play many action rpg's but, I am excited to try this one out. The idea of using different styles really does seem to add a whole new layer of strategy to Pokemon's base battle mechanics, especially if I can set up combos without taking a hit in-between moves. Maybe if it does well, they'll try incorporating that into the main series games ^^. New Hisui Pokemon: - Wyrdeer: *Flashbacks to Princess Mononoke* Stantler may be a favorite of mine, but I do adore him getting more love and attention like. Wyrdeer just looks like a boss! - Basculegion: Again, not a favorite Pokemon of mine, actually something of a personal ire for me, now given a really boss looking evolution. But, that backstory ... O-O - Hisuian Braviary: Not much to say, he just looks cool - Hisuian Growlithe: *GAAASSSPPP!!* PUPPY!! LOOK AT THE PUPPER!! GIVE ME THE FIRE-ROCK PUPPER!! I'LL TAKE TWENTY!!! New Human Characters: - Prof Laventon: Don't know what to think of you just yet so, we'll just wait and see how things go down with you. - Captain Cyllene: (first reation: "Wait... that's a woman? Well, don't I have egg on my face right now ;P) That said, I am intrigued by this character. Her design reminds me heavily of Tilda Swinton (just saying). Though, with her being this game's parallel/possible ancestor for Cyrus, it seems a bit too obvious to make her the big bad of our adventure. Perhaps they'll do something more interesting with her story but, we'll have to wait and see - Commander Kamado: Oh, my... W-well, it seems we have our Prof. Rowan parrallel/possible ancestor. And he looks very tough, and s-strong, and commanding... ...and handsome, and... O///O ...w-w-will, you excuse me for a sec. ----- TL;DR - I may not care for the running events of the current present, but I am more than excited to see the treasures and legends of generations past

[sunnysidefangirl]

Clumsy (Fred Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!reader)

A/N: Real quick kinda important to know. As a Hufflepuff to get into the common room you have to tap the barrels in the right order or else I will spill on you. Also not edited but still read!

*RE-EDITED*

***

Fred stared at the girl in yellow and black robes as she sat quietly in the library. Her hair fell slightly in her face as she hunched over the book she was using to study, but she didn't bother to move it. There she sat, the most clumsy and awkward girl at Hogwarts. The Weasley boy couldn't help but fall for her though. On the multiple occasions they had been partners in class she was nothing but sweet, smart, and hilarious. It's no suprise Fred fell for a girl like her.

"Fred?!" A voice called out to him. Fred almost jumped out of his seat at the sudden voice of his twin.

"Oi, George do you have to pop out of no where?!" Fred asked with an annoyed expression.

"Since when did you turn into mum? Since you got your eye on that Hufflepuff girl?" George asked. Fred looked at his twin in suprise. He's positive he hasn't told him yet. Which leaves the question...

"How did you-?"

"How could I not? You stare at her everyday!" George exclaims with a laugh.

Fred stood up from the seat and rolled his eyes choosing to ignore George. He packed up his untouched books and started to walk towards the exit, George at his side. Just as they were about to leave a large bumping sound echoed through the library just then. The sound catches the attention of the twins as well as everyone else in the library. Y/n had dropped all five of her books including a few papers used to study. "Oops." She says softly, she felt the dread of embarrassment creep up and warm her face. She bends down and begins picking up her books. Fred wanted to help but he felt like he couldn't move. He had become cemented in the library floors.

"Fred! Why didn't you help the poor girl?" George asked hitting his older twin on the shoulder. Coming out of his daze he noticed that you had now picked up all your books and you were stuffing most of them into your bag, leaving what was too big, to carry in your arms.

"Uh, I don't know... Let's just go okay?" Fred answers annoyed with himself. He wasn't used to being this affected by a girl, he was starting to act like Ron.

The next day Fred was determined to talk to you on other subjects than just charms, DADA, and potions. He had to get over his nervousness and just talk to you. George took credit for his brother's decision. After he practical spent the whole day bugging Fred with how he didn't talk to you.

Fred walked into the great hall and worked it out in his head that he was going to walk you to your class after lunch. He sat in the middle of George and Lee, with George on his right and Lee to the left of him. His eyes scouted the Hufflepuff table and he felt his heart leap at how adorable looking you were. You had spilled some juice on yourself and were using a number of napkins to lessen the stain. His mind wandered at the thought of you sitting next to him, and he being to one to help get stains off of your tie. He could've stayed in that daydream for the whole day if George hadn't interupted.

"Making googely eyes at Y/n again are we?" George asks playfully.

"Shut up!" Fred groaned.

"Who?" Hermione asked sitting across from them, Harry and Ron right near her.

"No one." Fred replied quickly. He went back to eating his food but his eyes betrayed them by chancing another glance at you.

"Y/N L/N?" Harry instantly asked. His eyes being too sharp for his own good.

"Shhhh!" Fred hushed the Gryffindor.

"Y/N?" Ron joined in his voice more suprised. "She's the clumsiest girl in the whole school."

Fred took out his wand without any hesitation and pointed it right at Ron's face. "Anything else you wanted to say my dearest brother?" Fred asked.

Ron gulped and shook his head quickly.

"She's very pretty and nice from what I hear." Ginny says.

"And clever, I hear she could have been a Ravenclaw." Hermione adds before eating some of her food.

Fred didn't doubt it. You were very smart. Any time he "messed up" on a spell or potion you would help him, always knowing the right version of what he did wrong.

The next few minutes were spent with them asking him many questions. None of which he wanted to answer. For the most part he was able to change the conversation until lunch ended. He watched as you picked up your worn bag and sling it over your shoulder. In your arms were a few books probably for your next lesson. As you walk towards the door you made eye contact with the redhead. You smiled brightly and waved at him. He grins and returns the wave. Fred knew he just had to talk to you. He promised himself that he was going to do it...

before the sun set he was going to talk with you.

______________________________________________

After his last lesson he walked through Hogwarts looking for you. The halls were mainly empty seeing as most of the students had ended their lessons. There was only a few sprinkled tutor lessons at this time. In no time Fred saw your hair against your robes and knew it was you. He rushed over to talk to you but was stopped again, this time not by any nerves.

There was a group of older Slytherin that stood in front of you. One pushed you down making your books fly all over the place as you landed with a smack.

"Well, if it isn't the clumsiest girl Hogwarts has ever seen?" One girl laughs at her own unoriginal comment. She pushed you back down as you tried to rise from the floor.

"Why does Hufflepuff even keep you, you shouldn't be at this school! You're not worth the filth on my shoes. " Another on says stepping on her hands when they reached for the fallen pieces of paper.

Before anything else happened Fred was in front of the group of bullies. Fred let the rage in him erupt as he pulled out his wand. Muttering a quick spell, the ugly Slytherin boy started to levitate with the control of Fred's wand. The boy in black and green robes raised to meet Fred's angry eyes and felt himself fill with anxiety. Fred Weasley was not a boy to be messed with.

"What the bloody hell! What is wrong with you?!" Fred asked his fist turning white around his wand and at his side. He spun the boy around so that he was mimicking the actions of a ferris wheel.

"Weasley." One of the other bullies glared. "How dare you-"

"I'm guessing you want to be next?"

That shut them up in an instant.

"Listen to me now...don't you ever come near y/n again!" The Slytherins nodded their head, the one in the air unable to due to the motion sickness settling in. Before Fred had the chance to release the spell-

"Put him down now Mr. Weasley!" A loud voice boomed. When Fred turned to meet the voice he internally groaned. Of course out of all the times he hae escaped him, he gets caught in this moment.

Snape marched over to the group with demand in his eyes. "Let him down now Fred Wealsy."

"Gladly."

"Gently!"

Fred rolled his eyes when he looked back at the ugly boy. He lowered him until he was a few inches above the ground and then dropped him completely, so that he landed with a loud thump. The Slytherin limped away from the scene the others hot one his tail. The scene about to unfold only experienced by the clumsy Hufflepuff, the impulsive Gryffindor, and the angry Slytherin.

"Mr. Weasley, I don't know how badly you were raised but we do not levitate students outside of classrooms at Hogwarts!"

"Well I would've done it in a classroom sir, but I didn't want to disturb any teachers." Fred said back. He knows he should hold his tongue...then again he was known for being headstrong. Besides why did Snape feel the need to bring his family into this?

Snape glares at the young boy, his nostrils flaring. "I think a week in detention should set you straight." Snape says deeply, a smirk growing on his face as he looked down at the firey boy.

"Professor Snape it wasn't his fault!" Your angelic voice rang. Your voice sounding ten times stronger than Fred had ever heard before. You stood tall but Fred could tell in your eyes that you were hesitant. "Those students were causing trouble! Fred stepped in to stop them, who knows what could have unfolded."

"Stopping them by levitating them off the ground? Does that sound like a reasonable way to put a stop to someone Miss L/N?" Snape glares.

"Uhm-Well...due to the situation..."

"No Miss L/N, the answer is no. I doubt they would just start causing trouble...they are some of my best students. What did you do...fall in front of them? Spill something on their shoes? Become an inconvenience by dropping books in front of them?" Snape asked, scowling at the girl down his nose.

You felt embarrassment fill your body. Even teachers think your a joke. Were you really as clumsy as students claim you are? You hoped maybe not many people caught your little slip ups.

"Very well you can both have a weeks detention. Meet me in my office Monday after dinner." Snape said. Without another word he left the hall like a leaf in the wind. The two students would now have to spend hours in Snape's room, despite that the two had very different feelings about it.

A week in detention is going to be the worst!

A week in detention...that's a perfect opportunity!

"Are you alright?" Fred asked picking up the last of your books that were still on the ground.

"Uh, y-yeah. I'm fine." She says her nervous voice returning.

"Are you sure?" Fred asked handing her some of her books.

"Yeah." She answers. The Hufflepuff started to walk away and Fred followed her.

"I'm sorry about those Slytherins they are absolute twats." Fred said. The beautiful girl cracked a grateful smile at the comment.

"Were you going to study in the library? Could I walk you there?" Fred asked suddenly feeling more confident after seeing her smile.

"I was actually heading to my common room, you could walk me there if it's not too much trouble." She smiled brightly making Fred's heart skip a beat.

They walked through the halls of Hogwarts talking about many different things. It was a nice conversation that seemed to flow easily. Y/n had completely forgotten about what happened with Snape and the Slytherins...well almost. Once they got to the hall of her common room she stopped and faced the tall boy.

"Thank you Fred, for what you did back there. I'm sorry you have to be in detention next week because of me."

"Don't worry, I get in detention for a lot worse." The tall boy shrugged. "It would be a pleasure to serve detention with you." Fred charmed, his confidence had come back ten fold.

Y/n blushed again at the boy. She always thought he was really cute and endearing. No to mention really smart, even when he pretended to mess up a spell just so she would talk to him.

"Can't wait." You said in a kind of teasing manner. Fred smiled widely at you. "I'll see you later Fred."

"Bye love." Fred responded softly. He gave a wink to the girl before he started walking back to the Gryffindor common room, he felt his own ridiculous smile on his face. He had finally got the opportunity to talk to you and it went great! You-

"AHHHHRRRGGGG!"

Fred turned instantly hearing your cry. Were you in trouble again? Were you hurt? However when he saw you his body shook as laughs fell out of his lips. You were covered in head to toe with vinegar. Your bright robes where soaked in the smelly liquid.

"Wrong combination." You shrugged sheepishly at the Weasley.

Fred smiled at your adorable figure and his laughs caused you giggle as well. One thing you already had in common, you both couldn't wait for next week's detention.

[jbbarnesandnoble]

Hungry Eyes: One-Shot

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: a night out with your friends leads to you singing karaoke in front of an entire bar. you might be singing in front of them, but everyone knows who you're singing to.

Warning(s): fluff, drinking, bar setting, cringy dialogue (i did not hold back on this one yall) happy ending, my bad writing, and this was only edited once (by me, i can tell you in full confidence that my editing skills suck)

Word Count: 3,059

Prompt: Hungry Eyes by Erik Carmen

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts since june i believe, and i have wanted to post it so badly! so naturally when i try to post it (after MONTHS of not postint) tumblr stops working and messes my whole plan up... im sorry my friends, but second times the charm (that's how the saying goes, right??)

(not my gif)

It is 9:38pm on a Saturday night, Dirty Dancing plays on your TV in the background while you get ahead on some work. It is your fifth time watching it this week, but you can’t not watch it, it is your favorite movie after-all. On the coffee table next to you, your phone vibrates. Picking it up, you greet your friend on the phone.

“What up babe, I hope you’re wearing somethin’ sexy ‘cause we’re going out tonight!” Natasha announces into her phone. You sigh, knowing there is no way for you to escape going out tonight, not after bailing on her the last four times.

Which is how you find yourself here, at O’Malley’s Bar and Karaoke. Sitting at a center table in the dimly lit bar while an intoxicated man belts out a Fleetwood Mac song. You choose a seat at the mostly empty table. Nat, who is talking with her younger sister, Yelena. Sits on your right and Sam -your other best friend- sits on your left.

“Y/n, haven’t seen you 'round here in awhile. How’s it hanging?” Yelena asks, shifting in her chair, she tries to hear over the sound of the man's bad and loud singing. If you can even call it singing.

“She's been avoiding us,” Nat says, pushing all your buttons perfectly. You do your best to ignore her antics. The wood chair scraps against the hardwood floor as you pull it out and sit between your two best friends. You answer Yelena’s question with a generic answer, ignoring her sister - and her comments - who doesn't seem to care.

“What’s up, kid. It’s been a while since you last came out with us. Nat finally blackmailed you to come with?” Sam jokes with you. You turn to face him, as he sips his water. Ice clinks around in his glass from the quick movement.

“Drinking water tonight?” You ask, more out of intrigue than anything else, though it is a good way to turn away from the current topic. Since you don’t feel like explaining your reason for not hanging out with your friend group much anymore.

It isn’t like you don’t want to go out with them, you do. But you aren’t all that fond of being around Bucky and his girlfriend Dot. You have had a huge crush on Bucky since college and have been best friends for even longer. You thought that over time that small childish crush would go away, but much to your dismay, it did not. In fact, it grew and it never stopped growing. So now, here you are, years later, in love with your best friend who you can’t have because he’s in love with someone else.

That explanation is a great way to kill everyone’s fun. Which is why you haven’t told anyone why you don’t want to hang out anymore. It’s too hard to see them together. You pushed past the pain for almost an entire year, but you aren’t sure that you can do it anymore.

“Somebody has to keep an eye on these kids,” Sam explains, acting as a true mature adult. “Also I drove,” he adds, quieter than the first part, he hides behind his drink.

“There it is.” You say, to which he responds by pretending to be hurt that you didn’t believe he would be the mature one by choice.

A waitress comes around moments later asking you what you would like to drink and eat. A smile on her face the entire time, one you recognize as a customer service smile. Completely fake, but real enough that the customers are none the wiser. You thank her, asking for only a glass of water.

“Forget whatever she asked for, she would like a beer.” Natasha interrupts the young waitress as she is about to leave the table.

“Natasha!” You shout at her, she shrugs in response taking a swig of her own beer.

“I agreed to come out with you, but I didn’t agree to drink.” You point out and it’s true. You don’t feel like drinking tonight and you have to drive yourself home so you really shouldn't be drinking.

“You agreed to drink when you said you would come out with us, plus Sam’s driving.” The redhead tries to argue as she leans back in her chair.

“Yeah, he’s driving you, unlike some people I drove myself.” She shrugs, becoming uninterested in the conversation. She goes back to talking to Yelena.

The same waitress from before comes back, water in one hand and a beer in the other. She sets them both down in front of you, a smile on her lips the entire time. Her long black hair sways back and forth as she moves around the table. She checks in on the rest of your friends who had just arrived.

“Y/n!” Clint and Tony yell in unison. While Steve greets you more calmly than the others as he claims a seat across from you. You offer a kind smile in return. Your eyes scan over the group that had sat down at your now full table and you notice two faces missing from your group.

“Are Bucky and Dot coming out tonight?” You ask no one in particular. Everyone shares glances and avoids looking in your eyes.

“It’s been so long since you’ve been out with us, we all forgot you didn’t know.” Tony said, eyebrows drawn together and a sympathetic smile on his lips.

“Know what?” you ask, letting your intrigue get the best of you. Sam is the first of your friends to speak up, seeing as he is one of your closest friends the duty fell to him.

“Buck hasn’t been out with us for a while, kid. Once you stopped hanging out with us we started to see less and less of him. Now he rarely hangs out with us.”

Your eyes scan around the table, no one is looking directly at you except for Sam and Nat. You shrug, not seeing the huge deal about the whole thing. It’s his choice not to come out, just like it is your own.

“He’s been distant with us.” Tony adds, hiding behind his drink

“His loss.” You state causally, though deep down you are a bit disappointed. It has been a while since you last saw him, it would be nice to know he is doing well.

-------

Two beers and most of the bar’s nachos later, you’re having a better time than you expected to. You forgot how much fun being around your friends is. You wish you hadn’t been such a child about the whole Bucky thing. You could have been having so much fun had you simply ignored your own feelings instead of dwelling on them.

A group of young girls is on the stage, singing along to some new pop song you have not heard before. They are not the best singers, but you can tell they don’t care. They are having fun and enjoying themselves that is all that matters. The song ends and the crowd, filled mostly with drunk people, clap and cheer as they exit the stage.

Someone’s hand pulls three times on the sleeve of your shirt. Grabbing your attention from the drunk guy who stumbled onto the stage. His friends cheer loudly as he gets ready to sing and someone from the crowd yells happy birthday. Across the bar, you find a table full of young guys and girls. Balloons and streamers decorate the booth. A banner hangs above it, written in bold blue marker reads, ‘Happy Birthday Tom'.

“Y/n, you know what you should do?” Yelena starts and you can tell the alcohol is starting to kick in the tiniest bit. Though she seems to be better at holding her liquor better than some of your other friends. “You should go up there.”

“No, no way. There is no way I’m going up there.” You argue, holding your hands up as if trying to physically stop her idea.

“Come on, it would be so much fun! Plus, if you do it Clint will pay you twenty bucks.” The blond bargains with you, both of your eyes look to where Clint is happily unaware of her idea. A smile spreads across your face.

“Fine, but I’m gonna need one more of these and you’re buying,” you say, waving your empty beer bottle back and forth.

You take your time finishing your beer, your nerves grow larger with each sip. Soon enough, Yelena caught onto what you were doing and yelled at you to drink faster. Well, you think that’s what she was doing. With her switching between Russian and English it was hard to tell what exactly she was trying to say. And Natasha’s so-called “help” did nothing, seeing as she was also speaking in Russian.

“You’re up next,” Sam announces which earns cheers from all your friends. Settling back in his chair, he pats your shoulder offering an encouraging smile. The next four minutes go faster than any other song before. The girl on stage announces your name and you reluctantly walk onto the stage. Your friends cheer you on, which helps ease your nerves. Also, the fact that most of the bar is drunk, the chances of anyone remembering this is not very high.

“Hey Sam, why didn’t you tell her they broke up?” Steve asks from across the table, which gains the rest of the group's attention. Except for Clint who never knows what’s going on. Which usually has to do with the fact that his hearing aids are off about half of the time.

“That’s his job, not mine. I’m not his babysitter.” Sam says curtly.

“He can tell her when he gets here,” Tony tells everyone in the most nonchalant way possible. All eyes are on him, confused by what he means. “I texted him, told him she finally stopped avoiding us," he pauses to correct himself, "Him, and came out for the night.”

“You drunk genius!” Clint shouts

“You’re drunk too, you idiot,” Yelena yells at him. He promptly turns his haring airds back off and mumbles something about being the soberest one there in response to her statement.

“Shut up all of you, she’s singing,” Nat yells at them.

An upbeat melody begins playing over the speakers. A small screen in front of you flashes the lyrics of the song you picked on it. Another second passes and it’s time for you to start singing. You start off quiet, not quite believing in yourself yet.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,

I've got this feelin' that won't subside

I look at you and I fantasize

You’re mind and tonight.”

Your friends, after being quiet for a while, start cheering you on again. Their support gives you the confidence you need. From in the crowd, Sam yells, “That’s my best friend, y’all, stay jealous.” which causes you to laugh, you collect yourself and keep on singing.

“Now I’ve got you in my sights,

with these, hungry eyes

one look at you and I can’t disguise”

The song continues on and suddenly you feel like Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing. Feeling more confident you attempt to do some of the dance moves that you can remember from the movie. You aren’t the best dancer, but you don’t care all that much, you’re having a lot more fun than you thought you would. In fact, you’re almost happy Yelena encouraged you to go on stage.

“I want to hold you so hear me out,

I want to show you what love’s all about

darling tonight.”

The next set of lyrics pop on the screen, not that you need them, you know this song by heart. It’s then the front door swings open and your eyes find a set of steel-blue ones, your heart skips a beat or two, or maybe three. You stutter over the words once or twice before you collect yourself enough to sing the next words.

“I’ve got hungry eyes

I feel the magic between you and I

With these hungry eyes

Now I’ve got you in my sights.”

Lyrics that meant nothing before, now mean a little too much to you. All thanks to Bucky, who had to enter the bar while you were on stage. With your heart pounding a little harder thanks to him, you keep on singing and the crowd keeps cheering. You watch as he chooses to stand a few feet behind your group rather than join them.

“I need you to see

this love was meant to be.”

Your dancing has slowed to a slow sway back and forth, your eyes never leaving Buckys. The music is quieter than before and all you can see is him. You try your best to look away, but it’s too hard when he’s staring at you like that. With his soft and gentle smile and his hair that is so fluffy all you can think about is running your hands through it. At this point, you’re well aware that you are singing to him. What you don't notice is that your friends - and everyone else in the bar - are also well aware of what is happening, and who you are really singing to.

“I feel the magic between you and I.”

“Now I’ve got you in my sights

With my hungry eyes.”

Just like that, as quickly as the song began it ended. The bar fills with applause as you leave the stage. Making a b-line to your friends who are all standing when you reach them, ready to pull you into a hug.

“Dude, that was amazing. I was even considering giving you twenty bucks myself… But I won’t, I’ll let Clint do that.” Yelena says, patting you on the back and leaning her arm on your shoulder.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that.” Steve complements, in his usual awkward manner. You thank him as he pulls you into a small hug.

“Get out of the way losers,” Sam yells from the back of the group, which makes you laugh, “You got some pipes on you, kid. I’m a bit hurt that you never told me, your best friend, that you can sing. But I’ll forgive you this time. All it'll cost you is a pizza.” he says with a wink so you know he’s only kidding, not that he needed to do that. He is your best friend, after all, you know him better than Steve and Bucky do.

Sam pulls you into a huge hug when your eyes meet Bucky’s who is standing behind the group. You turn your eyes away when you go to hug Nat next, “You should probably talk to him.” she whispers into your ear before letting you go and yelling, “Next rounds on me!” Which is the perfect chance to escape. “Waters all around!” You hear her add while walking away, boos erupt from all of your friends and a smile pulls at your lips.

“Hey, wanna get some air?” Bucky asks when you’re close enough to hear him, you nod without hesitating.

It is a bit colder outside from when you first left your apartment, a cold, Autumn breeze blows through your thin blouse. You regret not grabbing your jacket before leaving the bar. In an attempt to gain some warmth, you wrap your arms around yourself.

“Dot and I broke up,” Bucky blurts out, the sudden confession causes you to stop in your tracks. He does too, choosing to stand next to you. “I feel like an idiot about the whole thing if I’m being honest. She said that she couldn’t date me while I am in love with someone else. It took me too long to realize who she meant, when I did, everything else began to make sense in my life again.”

“So, who is it?” you ask, somehow convincing yourself that it can’t be you.

"And I thought I was an idiot." he states, a smug, joking smile on his lips.

Before you have the chance to ask him what he means. His lips crashs into yours and his hand cup your face. The kiss is slow and sweet and everything you ever imagined it would be plus more. It’s the kind that sweeps you off of your feet and steals your breath, and leaves you feeling a little dizzy afterwards. It’s the kind of kiss at the end of a rom-com when the guy finally gets the girl.

“I feel it too,” he says through soft pants, his forehead resting against your own. You hum, silently asking him what he means. “The magic between you and I, I finally feel it. Although it’s about five years overdue.” His words, as cheesy as they might be, are perfect and romantic in every way possible. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him closer so that your noses are almost touching.

You’re about to say something when your stomach speaks first, doing it’s best to be as loud as possible. There is a moment of silence between you before you both start laughing. Bucky’s hands fall from your face and down to your shoulders to pull you into his chest. You stand there laughing with your face buried in his chest.

“Let’s go find you some food, yeah?” he asks you, fingers running through your hair. You nod into him, more than happy to find something to eat.

“You never answered my question from before.” You say and you begin to walk to find food, your arm looped around his waist, his around your shoulders. It takes him a moment to realize what you’re talking about when he does he says,

“This girl from work, I've been in love with her since I first saw her.” He teases with a playful smirk on his lips.

“You are really mean, you know that?” You complain, faking a pout. A laugh bubbles in his throat before he plants a kiss onto your head.

“Yeah, but you still like me.” he points out before stopping to shrug off his jean jacket, after he notes the goosebumps littering your skin.

“Can’t have you catchin’ a cold on our first date.” You smile up at him as you walk to the closest pizza shop that is down the street.

[they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon]

Les filles françaises embrassent mieux

James x Beauxbatons!Reader

Words: 1235

A/N: Full part 1! If you like it I’ll continue it, please let me know! This part is mostly set up, translations are at the end, (or you could google translate idk)

Edit: Title and images are going to be/are updated cause of a translation error, oop

Sending love from the moon

- Blue

The sorting ceremony is nerve racking enough, let alone being much taller than the 1st years making you stand out like a sore thumb. You’re a transfer from Beauxbatons, in your 6th year. You lived up to the stereotypes of Beauxbatons girls, you were smart, kind and beautiful. 

Professor McGonagall went down the list of new students, the room going between almost silence to a cluster of cheers from one of the long tables in the room.

“Y/n Y/l/n?” she called, you walked up to the stool sitting looking at the room. So many eyes looking at you, people whispering and giggling. You hold your arms in your lap, back sitting straight. Like you were taught at Beauxbatons. 

“Oh what do we have here? Smart and witty, have half the mind to put you in Ravenclaw, yet I know you’re a bit of a trouble maker aren’t you? Surprising from a Beauxbatons girl, you seem full of surprises. Better be...Gryffindor!”

The third table erupts in cheers as you go over to it, sitting in the closest empty spot.

“Hi! My name's Lily” The red haired girl sitting next to you smiles, reaching out to shake your hand “Bonjour, je m'a- oh uh sorry. Hi I’m Y/n” You shake her hand, mentally cursing yourself for almost slipping into French.

After the rest of the new students get sorted, Professor Dumbledore says a welcome and a brief introduction before the tables are filled with food. The sudden change startled you slightly.

Everyone starts eating, you only place a small amount on your plate, a bit overwhelmed by everything going on. Four boys move to sit around you. Pretty much shoving the people there out of the way.

One of the boys had wavy black hair and grey eyes, he was smirking at you. Sat next to him, also smirking, but not at you, at Lily next to you. He had very messy brown hair and round glasses.

Sat next to you was a kid with dusty blonde hair curly hair, he had a long scar across his face. The last was timidly sitting on the over side of Lily, you couldn’t see him well.

They all greeted you with various hellos “I’m Sirius, the prat next to me is James, the git next to you, he’s Remus” he nodded towards him, getting a glare “And that tosser is Peter” He points to the other boy.

“Aka, the dumbasses of the school” Lily smirks at you, making you let out a small laugh “It’s nice to meet you all” You let out a small smile.

“You’re from whatever that french school, right?” The boy with the glasses finally looks at you smiling. “Beauxbatons, yeah”

“Are the rumors true? Is every girl there as beautiful as you? Although I can tell you’d be the most stunning of all” Sirius winks at you, you could already tell what kind of guy he is, constant flirting and full of himself.

“Is every guy as charming as you” You smirk at him leaning forward slightly “No one is more charming than me” He leans in as well

“Shame, I was hoping at least one boy at this school était attrayant” You lean back winking at him, popping a grape in your mouth, Lily burst out laughing next to you

“Wait, Evan’s, you know what she said?” Sirius turned his attention to Lily. “Yeah, I know a bit of French, had to learn it in my old muggle school”

“Well what did she say!” Sirius flicks his hair out of his face. “She said ‘At least one boy at this school was attractive’ ” Lily couldn’t stop smiling, the other three boys started laughing at him.

“Wow, not only did you get shot down, but in French, I reckon that’s an achievement” James smirked at Sirius. “Sod off James. How many times has Lily shot you down” James glares at Sirius.

The rest of the meal went down relatively smoothly, the boys quarilling a bit and you and Lily laughed at James’s attempts at flirting with her.

Once the dinner was over the prefects lead the firsts years to their house dorms, while James and Lily walked with you to the Gryffindor dorm a different way from the 1st years, Sirius was chasing after Peter, Remus going after them, presumably to make sure they don’t kill each other.

Once in the common room, you three sat on the couches by the fireplace, waiting for the other three to burst through the portrait (You also found it very strange that to get into your common room you had to go through a painting)

While you were waiting, James was asking...no...interrogating you on French things. Mostly asking how to say things.

“Oh! How do you say my name? James Potter?” “You would just say James Potter” You say “Not every name has a french translation” “What about Prongs?”

“Huh?” You tilt your head.

Lily sighs “James, Remus, Sirius and Peter call themselves ‘the marauders’ and they gave each other nicknames, that are really weird by the way” she frowns at James.

Before the conversation can continue the portrait bursts open and the other three boys stumble in, all red faced and panting, Peter looking like he’s about to pass out. You giggle slightly, “Are you three alright?”

“We’re- all good- darling” Sirius says breathless, he plops down next to you on the couch, putting his arm around you “Yeah, no” You say getting up and sitting next to James on the floor making James smirk and Sirius pout.

“What were you guys doing before we got back?” Remus breathes, sitting next to Sirius “I was asking her about France!” James says excitedly, beaming at you

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“He was asking how to say things, mostly names, and getting sad cause he doesn’t have a special french name” you coo at him 

“What’s my name!” Sirius and Peter yell at the same time “Ok calm down mes amis, you’re names are the same” 

“What does ‘me am is’ mean?” Sirius asks, badly mispronouncing it You let out a chuckle “mes amis” You say a bit slower, correcting his misponuniation “Means my friends” 

“Aw! We’re your friends!” James says hugging you, well more crushing you “I mean- I guess- If that’s ok?” You stutter,  “yes you’re our friend!”

“Ok Prongs stop crushing her” Sirius says laughing

“What about our ‘weird’ nicknames” James glares at Lily, and she pokes her tongue out at him

“Oo! Yeah!” Peter adds in “Prongs, Moony, Wormtail and Padfoot!” “Ok, Lily is right, those are weird nicknames” You giggle as the boys glare at you jokingly 

“Ok, Padfoot, hm, probably Patmol, Moony maybe Lune.” You look to the roof thinking “Why do you have these nicknames”

“Prongs could be ramure. It means antler, but that’s all I can think of. And I’m sorry but I’m not even going to try ‘wormtail’”

“And Snuffles!” James quickly adds, Sirius throwing a couch pillow at him

“What about Snivellus?” Sirius chuckles before Lily whacks him in the back off the head with a book. “Ok, ok sorry!”

The conversation between the six of you flows so smoothly, like you’ve been at the school since first year. Sirius was telling stories about all the times James tried (and failed) to ask Lily out.

Maybe this won't be as bad.

Translations:

Les filles françaises embrassent mieux = French Girls Kiss Better Bonjour je m'a- = Hello, my nam- (Bonjour je m'appelle / Hello my name is) était attrayant = was attractive mes amis = my friends

I had to take some creative liberty with their nicknames, I tired Patmol = Padfoot Lune = Moon Ramure = Antlers

Please excuse some mistakes, but let me know of them!