#i wrote like 20% of the chapter last week & monday

[cupoftaae]

Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ The Art Exhibit (Chapter 6)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5k

chapter warnings!- swearing, alcohol, this is kind of a fluffy ass chapter, but the end is a little frusterating. NO BAD VIBES THOUGH! reader is finally happy rn. tw: annie.

a/n- Hi guys! first of all, HAPPY SPRING! Also happy Ramadan to anyone who is celebrating!! I really wanted to publish this by last Monday at least, but I ended up getting a cold, and then I had an exam this week too that I crammed studied for. I wasnt happy with the ending of this chapter and wanted time to fix it up a bit!! we are getting to the good stuff now so I really hope you enjoy! (ps. another thanks to all the likers, rebloggers, commenters, it means so much to see feedback, ily guys.

The song of this chapter was on repeat while I wrote it !!

This week had been good.

For the first time in what seems like forever, life was actually giving you a break....sort of.

"Kwan, cmon! I promise French isnt that hard if you just sit and let me teach you!" you exhale with a wide smile, looking at the 6 year old who was now running around the living room.

Since Tae quit his job, you decided to start picking up after school shifts to tutor your neighbor, Mrs.Chin, and her bratty 6 year old. You used to tutor her other child, Mimi, who was always well behaved, but she went to study abroad, leaving you alone with the devil reincarnated.

"I dont wanna! its stupid!" the younger child yelled back, making you take a moment to breathe before responding. "Kwan, I would appreciate if you let me teach you, or at least if you even sat down and listened to me read." you said calmly.

You looked over at the pouting boy and his action figures, arms now crossed over his chest as he glared. You sighed and ran your hands over your face, lets just say if the pay wasn't $90 an hour, you probably wouldn't submit yourself to this.

"Kwan." you said, getting up with your textbook and sitting on the floor next to him "your mommy hired me to help you learn, I really want to be able to teach you something here, because whether you realize it now or not, learning a second language is a really beautiful thing" you show him all the pages of notes youve taken from your own classes, watching him view it over.

"I wanna be here for you, we can be buddies, ok? no more fights, no yelling. How about this-" you turn around to him "If you let me teach you for a half an hour, 30 minutes, you can have 20 minutes of playtime, yeah?" you spoke softly

"mmkay.." he looked at you, nodding gently.

"aw, see, you are a good boy I knew you were, cmon, sit and i'll teach you how to introduce yourself in French, so when you go to daycare tomorrow, you can show it off to everyone" you smiled and gently tickled the boy, making him giggle loudly.

You really did enjoy teaching and learning, something about it just made you feel incredibly intelligent, and yes, you loved acting too, but the idea of being able to offer something new to someone genuinely got you excited. If you could go back and change your major to anything, It would probably be French or some other foreign language, teaching abroad doesnt sound too bad.

-

At the apartment, Tae had been cleaning a little bit more. He figured if he was going to have more free time, then he needed to learn to help out around the house....He also needed a distraction from the fact that tomorrow night is the art exhibit, and to say he was nervous was a complete understatement.

The work he'd been creating is done, but like always, he wanted to change it last minute. You sat with him last night and explained that it didnt need to be changed, and he needs to be more confident with himself and his art.

His thoughts were interrupted when you walked through the door, offering a quick smile at him before walking off into the kitchen. He put down his broom and walked over to you, "How did tutoring go?" He asks softly, watching you pour coffee into a mug. "It was okay" you shrug, looking at the clock and internally sighing, it was dinner time and you hadnt prepared anything.

"You okay?" he asks

you look back at him and lean against the counter, "yeah...Kaito was supposed to pick me up at 8, and I sat outside texting and calling him until 8:30, when I decided to just get an Uber home"

"why didnt you call me? I would have drove over there" he frowns, leaning against the opposite counter. "ah, didnt want to bother you" you shrug.

He sighed and looked down. "I made you dinner, by the way" he spoke, making you look up at him warily. "by made, I mean bought, dont worry theres no food poisoning here" he rushed, making you giggle.

"thank you tae, I really appreciate that" you walk over to hug him gently, telling him you were gonna wash up and shower before eating.

He finished cleaning the living room before finally crashing on the couch, watching as you left your room with a towel on your head, making him laugh. "are you gonna tell me my fortune"

You scoff and grab your bulgogi, sitting onto the couch next to him.

"yummy?" he asks, searching for something to watch, "mhm" you smiled and offered a bite which he gladly took.

"oh also, Because tomorrow night is the art show, I was thinking afterwards we should get dinner or something..." he trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

you turned your head to him, smiling softly, "hm that sounds fun. are we thinking Mcdonalds?" you giggle, making him laugh as well.

"nooo, no" his head shook, "I dont know yet, I'll look around."

"we can go to that Korean barbecue place that just opened, and celebrate your win" you shrug

"we dont know if Im gonna win, there are many talented artists participating. I have like no chance, y/n."

you scoff and shake your head, "you are telling me, that THE Kim Taehyung has no chance? I dont believe this!"

He smiled and watched as you rambled about how he has worked for this and deserves it, laughing quietly.

"yeah...I dont even care for the money to be honest. I Just want to go to Paris again...it was fun when we went last time" he sighed.

You chewed your food and nodded, standing up in front of him with your hands on your hips, "Mr.Kim, I am putting it into the universe now, that if somehow you dont win, I will make sure we both go to Paris once more"

"really?" he spoke after a moment, unable to take you seriously with the towel head.

"really"

"I dont think Kaito would like thattt" he sung jokingly, getting up and grabbing the blanket from the other side of the couch, covering himself in it.

"I dont careeee" you sung back before jokingly jumping onto him, squeezing his face as you continued to speak. "I dont even know where he is right now, probably drunk or something"

"does he get drunk a lot?" tae asked, smiling as you poked around his face with your hands. "yeah....kinda. He can handle it most times but.." you cut yourself off, not wanting to say anything else.

"but what?" tae asked, head turning to yours as you laid on him. Your eyes simply scanned over his face as he did the same with you. The urge to kiss him was there, but you knew better.

You got up and off him, making him sit up and look at you. "but what?" he repeated

"nothing" you smiled before stealing his blanket and running off to your room, making him get up to chase after you.

You were both laughing, but Tae was still catching his breath. You looked like you wanted to kiss him, no? His mind ran around in circles, ultimately convincing himself that he really does need to drop this and stop over analyzing everything.

He sat into his bed that night, looking over at his painting which leaned against his desk. He so desperately wanted tomorrow to be perfect, he wanted to win, but he also wanted to impress you.

His mind wandered down the rabbit hole. was it too clingy to ask to go to dinner after? was he annoying you and you didnt have the heart to tell him?

He rolled his face against his pillow, sighing heavily as tannie ran up and jumped on the bed, cuddling with him.

Across the hall you paced your room, glasses on as you tried to memorize your studying and figure out an outfit for tomorrow.

You gently hummed to yourself before moving the coat hangers around to see what you had, you dont exactly have 'art show' worthy clothes. You knew that ultimately it didnt matter, it wasnt about you, it was about him.

You climbed into bed and wrapped up your homework, deciding to pull your phone out and see if your boyfriend called or texted.

0 notifications

you sighed and opened up messages, texting him quickly.

you: hey....I hope you are okay? You havent texted or anything, im a little worried. you were supposed to pick me up today and then go for like coffee or something. did you forget? its okay if you did, just hope you are safe.

you bit your lip as you sent the message, waiting for a few minutes for a possible reply, but ultimately receiving nothing.

-

"ah, Yun Y/n, you really have impressed me, this is amazing"

you looked at your theatre teacher with hopeful eyes, glad that she appreciated the project script you stayed up to finish last night.

You bowed politely, "thank you so much, that means a lot"

"of course" she responded, taking her glasses off, "I really do hope you decide to take this class next year, you are one of my best students and I think the incoming freshmen would love to learn from your writing skills"

you smiled and nodded, "I dont see any reason why I wouldnt stay" you laughed lightly, making her nod, "good!"

she handed you your papers back with the received grade, allowing you to walk out into the hallway to see a certain someone.

"um...hello?" you spoke, aggravation evident in your voice. Kaito looked up from his bag at you, a guilty expression now showing.

"y/n, baby im sorry about yesterday"

"Look, I dont care about the pick-up thing, why couldnt you text me this morning even? I thought you died or something"

he laughs yet you were not amused. "My phone broke" he cleared his throat. You sigh and look around. "you know how many phones are on campus? you also have so many classes with Chae, would it kill you to relay the message?"

"im sorry, ok?"

you glared at him. 'Sorry' had become his broken record repeated phrase lately, and honestly, it didn't sound all to genuine anymore.

"yeah" you shrug and begin to walk away before he stops you. "Oh, are you free tonight?"

you stop and turn, shaking your head, "no, I have plans"

He scoffs, "doing what?"

"I have an art show with Taehyung and its late, we are going right home after"

"I see" he nods sarcastically, obviously pissed off. "are you going to the party that Jungkook is throwing at least?" he adds

"oh yeah....Dahyun invited me, I'll be there I guess" you mumble

"good" he smiled and held your cheek, making you look up at him. "dont bring him, okay?"

you look over his face before rolling your eyes and turning to walk to your next class.

Things lately with Kaito havent been as well as you had planned. When you two first started dating, the romance was there, there was a spark within sharing similar interests and likes, there were cute dates, late night conversations. As you find yourself walking down the hall, you wish that perhaps you never got to know the quiet boy in your acting class. You ponder about what would have happened if you two just remained friends, strangers, even.

His drinking was something you had been made aware of by a few classmates, but you can only blame yourself for ignoring them. As much as you hated to admit it, you didnt care in the moment. You are a young girl, who has vulnerabilities and of course wishes to find someone that makes her feel special....but given that....you also deserve pride, and the power to know, or to walk away from situations that arent helping you grow.

You dont ask much of kaito, he couldn't even pick you up on time and let you know why. It was borderline pathetic. He was pathetic, and the marks still evident on your wrist were enough to prove it.

you dont know what you had done in a past life to get such shitty treatment from men, but you could only pray that either the universe sends you in a different direction, or fixes the broken path you are currently trying to fight through.

-

"I called the restaurant, they take walk ins" Taehyung cheerfully spoke, barging into your room to see you sitting with your back towards him, papers sprawled around your desk surface.

"thats good" you mumble, refusing to turn around at the excited boy.

Taehyung notices the shift in your voice, the way your back is slumped over as you hid yourself in the piles of paper and homework. As he walked over, small droplets of tears resting on the wooden desktop below you are visible. You had been crying. A gentle hand comes up to graze against your back, remaining still for a moment before he spoke. "Y/N, whats going on?"

You sniffled, wishing that you could just be alone but also refraining against sending the boy out, he just wanted to help. "Im just stressed" a simple shrug and a blow of the nose make taehyung sit on the end of your bed as he faces you, deciding its enough distance from you, but not too much. "do you wanna talk about it?" he asks softly, his hair resting in front of his eyes, its grown so long these days.

You looked back at him and remained quiet for a moment before opening your mouth, "no" you shook your head. "I just....I just want tonight to be fun, I want you to have fun, I want this for us, just one day without anything pulling us down, okay?"

Taehyung nodded slowly, not sure what could have sent you into a spiral like this, but respecting your decision to not speak on it. "Okay, yeah, we will have fun okay?" he whispers, hand now holding yours as he got closer to you, wiping away your tears. "don't cry, everything will be alright sweet girl" he brings you into a tight hug as his words are close to brining you to cry again. You can blame it on being hormonal, but something about the comforting nature of the boy in front of you made you just want to constantly be there, support and love him for what he is. You would cling to him like a koala if you had the chance.

but he wasn't yours, and you were not his.

You had not been the best friend to taehyung for the past few weeks, something youve tried to make up for by either cooking, or buying him new art tools. You even stayed up late with him a few nights ago just letting him rant about all the shit on his plate. It made you realize that this boy would tell you every little detail about his life, he trusts you so much, yet you couldnt even be honest about the kaito situation.

Guilt was the best emotion to describe the feeling in your chest.

The best thing you could do tonight is to treat him like he were king of the world, he deserves a break, and it would kill you to have to be the one to ruin it again.

You sniffled and looked back at him, "so are you gonna show me the menu of the restaurant or what?"

Taehyung laughed lightly, squeezing your hand as he helped you up and led you out into the living room with him.

-

Every time Taehyung see's you upset, he feels as if those emotions transfer to him. If he could snap his fingers, or wave some magic wand, he would make it so you never cried again. A part of him was upset that you didnt feel comfy enough to open up about what exactly was bothering you, yet at the same time, he was able to understand your reasoning. You two fought more in the past few months than you have in your entire lives, it felt like walking on eggshells every time he spoke, he was fearful of losing you as a friend, so he made sure each word that came out of his mouth was nothing but delicate, kind, and loving.

He buttoned up his suit, smiling at himself in the mirror as he sprayed on some cologne you bought for him last Christmas. He remembers how much you loved to cuddle up to him when he got home from work, hiding your face in his neck, complimenting how good he had smelled.

Seems like those memories are so distant, in a way he almost mourns them. He is grateful to even have you at all, but as time goes on he truly believes he may never get over you, that you will always just be the one that actually got away.

He looks down at his drawer in his bathroom, the drawer that had been shared by you whenever you had used his bathroom. It hadnt been open in a while, but as he looked through it, he couldnt help but laugh.

purple nail polish.

You asked him if you had left it in his bathroom and he told you no. He thought it was cute that its the shade youve always worn. He even bought you a new bottle just so he could keep the one you left behind.

His mind flickers back to when you had begged him to let you paint his nails, after about 30 minutes of pestering, he finally gave in, letting you give him the full spa treatment.

He softly smiled as he examined the polish, carefully putting it back before walking out and into the living room.

"AHH you look so cute!" you giggled and ran up to him, squishing his bread cheeks. Tae had never worn a suit before, but you took him shopping a few days ago and convinced him he would look really good in one, and he has to admit he feels pretty well fit in it.

You fluffed his hair up and smiled softly, watching his eyes scan over you, something that made you blush. "You look really good, is this a new dress?" he asked quietly

"wow you noticed" you teased

"Of course, you look so pretty in it" He wanted to go on, he wanted to tell you how beautiful your smile looked and how it didnt matter what you wore, because in the museum full of brilliant art, he probably would only be able to look at you tonight.

"thank you" you shyly spoke, "are you ready?"

He held up his canvas, smiling brightly and nodding. "Here" you placed a plastic bag over the art so it wouldnt get destroyed or ruined in any way, especially since it was raining out.

"thank you" he spoke, lifting it up again before grabbing the umbrella and walking towards the door. "Lets go win that prize and rub it in everyones face" you tease, cheering as you made your way down the hall, tae walked behind and watched your childish nature, giggling to himself.

-

It was crowded.

You didnt even know there was this many art students in your school.

"just stay with me, its okay" Tae whispered to you after dropping off his artwork at the front table so they could enter it into the contest. He noticed your fidgety state, gently grabbing one of your hands with his own. You offered a light squeeze in acknowledgment.

"Taehyung!!!"

You both turned around to see Annie running up, smiling brightly with a glass in her hand. "Uhg Im so glad you made it, did you submit your work??"

"yeah I just gave it to them" he pointed at the adults working the table. "great, I seriously cant wait to see your work hung up, I know whatever it is will be beautiful."

"ah thank you, you are too kind" he spoke softly, feeling your grip on his arm tighten.

"Hi Annie" you spoke, annoyed that she chose to ignore you. "Oh hi!" she waved. "Im sorry, I forgot your name, what is it sweetheart?"

Taehyung scoffed quietly, stopping you from speaking before him "Her name is Y/N, I only talk about her all the time" he looked down at you, offering a reassuring smile.

"Oh, I forget everything im sorry" she giggled loudly. "cmon, lets go get something to drink" She tugged on his other arm eager to get him away from you.

"do you want anything?" he mouthed to you, making you shake your head. "no, go have fun" you offer, watching him give into annie's aggression with a sad smile, walking away.

You took your time walking around the exhibit, stopping at each frame to read the small descriptions and notes. You were never super artsy like Taehyung was, but it was impressive to see how dedicated he was.

you made your way through the large crowds of chatter, searching for taehyung before spotting him in the corner by the food stand. You walked over and gently hugged him from behind, it wasnt an act of anything, you just hated being in crowded areas, so you clung to him as best you could. His hand gently grazed along your arm before turning, a audible scoff from Annie is heard as he turns to face you.

"Hi sweet girl, You okay?"

"yeah" you nod, "I was just looking at all the art, which is beautiful but I think they have nothing on yours"

"Youre biased" he chuckled

"tsk tsk, I tell the truth" you giggled, hugging him as you rested your head on his chest, his arms around you loosely. To any onlookers, you two were a couple.

You both are naturally cling people, perhaps it can be to blame for how you both fell so easily into the friends with benefits thing.

"I didnt know you guys were dating" annie took a sip of her wine, gesturing between the both of you.

"oh no, we arent" you quickly spoke, "we are just really close"

"ah..." she trailed off and gave a knowing look to Taehyung, making him shrug. He didnt like to be mean, but he also liked seeing how jealous she got of you. He would never date Annie, and he felt guilty for maybe leading her on, but he feels pride in knowing that shes jealous of you.

you are his girl whether you were dating, friends, anything, everyone knew that.

"they have food if you are hungry" he suggested, patting your back to get your attention.

"Oh, thats okay, im saving room to stuff my face with Tteokbokki later" you both giggled,

"lets go look around, yeah?"

you nodded and grabbed his hand, leading him away from the judgmental girl watching you both like a hawk.

You noticed his frown as you sat in front of a canvas filled wall, "whats wrong, tae?"

"these are all....amazing..." he gestured towards a few, head lost in thought and self doubt.

"bubs, i promise you, yours is just as good if not better. remember what I said, no matter what happens, the outcome will be okay" you rubbed his shoulder, watching a small smile appear on his face.

"everything will be okay" he whispered to himself, taking a deep breath before nodding

-

As the night went on, guests were informed that the ranking and award ceremony would be taking place in just 15 minutes. Taehyung had been wrapped up in conversation with another one of his classmates, eyes absent mindedly searching around the banquet hall for you.

You told him a bit ago that you were gonna go grab a drink, and its been 10 minutes.

Across the room, little to his knowledge, you were wrapped up in your own conversation with a boy who caught you admiring his own work. "It took me a few months" the boy spoke softly, both of you standing in front of his painting. "You didnt want so submit it into the competition?" you asked, watching him shake his head. "I dont need people judging my art, it doesnt matter what they think. I like being able to just put it out into the world for what it is, I dont need a prize for that"

You were taken back by how well and soft spoken he was, unsure how to respond, "Whats your name by the way?"

"My name is Jung Hoseok" he bowed his head lightly, smiling brightly at you. "Ah nice to meet you Hoseok, Im Yun Y/N"

"pleasure meeting you" he spoke, shaking your hand. "so are you here tonight for your own art?" he added

"oh no, no, I am definitely not an artist", you giggled. "Im here with my best friend, he is the one participating tonight"

Taehyung finally found an out in the conversation and began his search for you, pushing through the room to see you standing next to some stranger. He would be lying if he said he didnt like to see you with other men, especially Hoseok, who was in his art class. He would rather you be standing with Kaito at that point.

"Oh taehyung!" Hoseok greeted the man you didnt even know stood behind you, making you turn and smile. "Sorry, I got lost" you giggled, taking his hand as he moved beside you. "Hello Hoseok" tae bowed his head.

"Y/N told me you are trying for the contest, good luck, I heard the judges tend to pick favorites" he laughed and tapped his arm, making him awkwardly smile. "I think he will be ok, wait until you see his painting, its beautiful" you spoke up

"Im sure" he looked at you both, bowing politely before walking off into a new conversation with his nearby friends.

"dont let his charm get to you, he isnt the nicest person" taehyung turns and speaks, gently leading you back to the front of the banquet hall.

"What? he seemed so sweet" you spoke

"I heard he is kind of....you know....like, he likes to play with multiple women at once" he explained as best he could, making you smile, "a man whore" you suggested, making him laugh. "yeah, a man whore"

"dont worry, Im not interested. Ive had enough boy drama to keep me away from any penis within a 5 mile radius" You spoke, watching Taehyung burst out in laughs. "speaking of him, is kaito mad you are here?"

"If he is, I dont care, tonight isnt about him, only you"

-

A few moments later, everyone had gathered into the front of the banquet hall, a panel of 3 judges proudly standing on the small stage ready to reward the prizes in rankings of the top 5 works of art submitted tonight.

"I am so nervous" Taehyung whispered, not directly at anyone but himself. You looked back and smiled, grabbing his hand and entwining it with your own. "Stop stressing, your hair is gonna go grey." you both quietly giggled before the lady on the mic began to speak.

"Thank you all so much for coming to our annual art banquet show, this is the 11th year we have been graciously welcomed back and we could not be more excited as the number of participants grow each year." she adjusted her glasses before speaking again. "Tonight is not about winning, or being the best, it is about recognizing talent of all unique levels, seeing things from other peoples eyes, its about the beauty of art"

The audience clapped lightly, making you smile as you looked around at everyone piled up together in anticipation.

"With that, I believe we are ready to begin the gift ceremony. The other judges and I graded on not only the art itself, but the impact received through it, we were looking for those who went outside the box, and we are happy to say we were not disappointed."

Taehyung looked at the black cloths that hung over the art work that was pinned on the wall up front, unsure if his was one of them or not.

"I'll remind everyone of the prizes, 5-3 place recieve a generous cash prize, as well as a discounted art session for next semester, 2 place recieves a larger amount of cash, while 1st place gets a visit to the Louvre Museum in Paris France, fully paid!"

The crowd happily cheers, the excitement in the room can easily be felt. You were nervous for Taehyung, not because you didnt think he could win, but you knew how much he wanted this trip. You wanted to see him happy, and most importantly, you wanted him to be proud of himself.

"We will now begin" The older woman walks to the lined up art, standing in front of one. "In 5th place, we will happily be awarding this to...." she gently pulled the black sheet off, revealing the art as the crowd clapped happily.

"Seo Yoon, with 'a walk with existence'"

you looked around to see the girl stand up and go to collect her certificate, bowing and thanking the judges.

"4th place, goes to.... Park Jimin, with 'serendipity'"

Everyone cheered as the younger man walked up to join the others.

You felt taehyungs hand squeeze yours lightly, as the 3rd person was revealed and it wasnt him, now he was eager. He either got 2nd, 1st, or none at all.

you gently rubbed his back as the woman went to reveal 2nd place. "In 2nd, we have..." the painting was revealed, "Kang Annie, with 'daydream'"

You both looked at eachother, "I didnt think her art was that good" taehyung claps but whispers in your ear, making you giggle and hold his arm for support. The tension in the room grew as the judge made her way to the remaining painting, the cloth gathering in her hand.

"and for first place, we, the judges have decided to reward...." the curtain felt like it fell in slow motion, taehyung quite literally on the edge of his seat.

"Kim Taehyung with 'Forever and a day'"

You jumped up immediately as his name was called, his beautiful painting on display for everyone to see as claps and "congratulations" were gifted his way.

"I won?" he mumbled, standing as you grabbed him close, hugging him tightly. "I fucking knew you could win!!! Im so proud!!!' you cupped his face and smiled, making him smile as well.

"get up there and claim your prize" you mumble, urging him up to the stage where he went to collect his prize and certificate. "Congratulations to everyone who won, and everyone who participated! lets get a round of applause for all the talent here tonight"

The room clapped loudly as you caught his eye, smirking and chanting loudly, maybe a bit too loudly for an art show. He laughed and congratulated the other winners, giving annie some bullshit answer when she joked about being his Paris plus one.

"You have no fucking idea how proud I am, Taehyung" you hugged him once more as you two started to get ready to head out. He made sure you took 10 million photos of his painting on display, making it your lock screen on your phone.

"I still cant believe I won.....it doesnt feel real" He joked, linking your arm with his as you both made your exit after saying goodbyes to everyone.

"wait until it hits, you are gonna be so proud of yourself. Paris....PARIS, taehyung, this shit is huge. Im not gonna lie, I almost cried when I heard your name"

"you did not!" he chuckled as you both walked to your car.

"Yes I did, you just dont get it" you teased "felt like such a power moment, you just know annie was pissed too....little bitch"

Taehyung bit back his laugh as he sat in the drivers seat, pulling his seatbelt on and resting his head back as you got in. "Thank you for everything, for coming....for just being my support" he spoke kindly, wide grin stuck on his face.

"dont thank me, im always gonna be here for you, seriously. Now, lets go eat until we get full, order dessert we cant finish, take it home and get drunk" You put your seatbelt on, car filled with excitement and giggles as he began to drive to dinner.

He really did feel excited, He was mostly in shock on how he was able to win something he threw together last minute.

Blame it on the alcohol, but some deep part of him wanted to come clean in this very moment, as you were now in the crowded restaurant, music blasted as you sang loudly, you looked so beautiful and alive.

The painting was about you.

Taehyung spent hours dedicating himself to that painting, and it was about you. It seemed like a perfect time to just rip the bandaid off right now, a night where everything was going right.

"y/n..." he mumbled, watching as you happily looked over at him, his heart now in his throat. you stopped dancing and made your way over to where he sat at the bar, your drunken self leaning forward to hear him over the music.

"I just wanted to tell y-"

"youre so handsome, jesus christ I hate you" you interrupt, words slurring as you look at him lovingly.

He knows you are drunk, but the comment still made him laugh, "thank you" he whispered as you walked back out to the dance floor, dragging him with you.

"ah y/n, im not really a dancer"

"you dont need to be, just listen to the music and feel it" you shout, jumping around and holding his hands. He has to admit, seeing you away from your usual tight knit persona was really attractive, of course he admired you always, but he never saw this side before, it was new and exciting.

He allowed himself to relax a bit, taking another shot before finally giving in and dancing with you in the crowded bar. "thats it!" you yell, jumping around with him as you both fell into fits of giggles. "cmere" you turned around and pressed your back to his chest, and even in his drunken state, his heart still fluttered at the sudden contact. You carefully danced against him, not in a promiscuous way, simply just a light sway.

You two ended up spending a bit too much money at the bar, making tae ultimately put a cap on the drinks for the night. You werent ready to leave yet, so he ordered a basket of fries and water, sitting at a table with you in the next room.

"we have to sober up just a little bit, I still have to drive home" he giggled and sat beside you, taking a few fries and shoving them into his mouth. "thanks bubs" you slur, eating the fries and chugging water like you havent had any in weeks.

"are you having the best day of your life?" you ask, making him smile, "yeah, I am actually" he held a fry up and fed it to you. "good, me too" you spoke, mouth open and full of food.

the two of you sat and spoke until you felt some of the alcohol waving off, "hmm, do you wanna go home?" you asked him, noticing how tired you both were getting.

It had been almost 5 hours youve been here, and you didnt want him to only stay because you wanted to.

"yeah...its kinda late" he smiled softly, standing up and helping you.

"youre okay to drive?" you ask, watching as he looked into the next room, listening to the jazz song that was playing.

"tae?" you walk over, watching him turn and smile. "wait, before we leave.." he held your hand and led you into the other room. "dance with me, just one last song" he looked down at you, and there was no way to say no to him.

You two were surrounded by some older couples, all of them turning their attention to you as you made your way into the center of the floor, saxophone blaring through the speakers.

Taehyungs long arms wrapped loosely around your waist, resting just above your butt, your arms reaching up to hold his shoulders as you two slowly swayed to the music.

"Why are you looking at me like that" you mutter, thankful for the dark lighting hiding the current blush on your face.

"Like what?" he smiled

You shrug, giggling softly, "I dont know" you bit your lip and looked at him, alcohol still able to be felt deep in your veins.

"whats so funny, hm?" he teased, looking directly at you with a wide smile, "whats my girl always laughing about?"

you shyly looked down, the weight of his gaze too much. Your head rested against his chest as butterflies filled your stomach. this was wrong.

"you cant say that" you whine quietly

"why not?" he stood back and gently spun you around, making you smile as your hands returned to his shoulders.

"because....im not your girl" you mumble, eyes fixated on both of your feet below.

He sighed and rested his head against yours, words not needed, yet actions saying much more as his hands squeezed your waist gently, rubbing up and down carefully.

you looked up at him finally as the song was coming to a close and allowed yourself to just be, smiling as he looked at you. "You will always be my girl" he whispered so only you two could hear, he quickly turned, grabbing your hand. "lets head home"

You felt breathless, and most of all guilty....but not in the way most would think. You were guilty about not feeling guilty. You had fun, and you werent going to apologize for the mindless flirting that occurred tonight.

-

The both got out of the car and jumped under the hood of your apartment complex, looking at the rain pouring.

"I had fun, tae..."

"I did too" he looked at you hopefully, his hand returning to yours.

"we need more time for just us, we've been so wrapped in other shit" you sigh, the sound of rain surrounding both of you.

"I agree, I dont care what we do, im always enjoying myself with you"

You smirk and jokingly jump towards him, embracing him tightly "ahhh tae tae...what will I do with you, little art boy" you smile as he laughs.

You both pull away, arms still on eachother as you stood outside your home. There was a moment of quietness, eyes scanning over eachothers faces.

"Tae...." you whisper, gathering your thoughts before he slowly leans in, nose brushing yours. The top of his lip grazes against yours as you lean in, suddenly realizing what was happening as you pull your head away.

He didnt react sharply, just watching you with sad eyes.

"we cant" you whispered, shaking your head

"why not?"

"because we dont know what we are doing tae, we know better than this." you firmly say

"do we?" he spoke calmly, eyes still fixated on you.

"yes.."

He looks down at your hands, squeezing them "please...."

You frown when he isnt looking, dragging your hand to pull his wet hair out of his face. "Im sorry" you softly spoke, rubbing your thumb over his cheek, "lets go get some rest, yeah?"

he waits a moment before nodding, silently following you into the apartment.

You werent sure what exactly was in the air tonight, but you knew something changed, and maybe it was the universe finally answering your call.

A/n: sorry ...

Tag list:

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

[https-hunter]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your three best and/or favorite fanarts/fanfics/moodboards/whatever that you've made, then pass on to others. No self-deprecation allowed! Let's get this self-love going ON!

Omg yeah!! I’ll take any chance to talk about my stuff

I’m definitely more known for my fanfics, so I’ll go with that. Who knows? Maybe tinimmy week will establish me as a fan artist as well

1. My baby is my breakfast club Monday after fic, so on monday, what happens? My magnum opus. It’s almost at 50k words. I started the google doc on March 23, 2020. I’d definitely change some things and this bad boy has been through various writing style changes, so I don’t like to go back and read what 16-year-old me wrote. I’m working on the last chapter, although it is a bit on a back burner. I want to get that out before my birthday so I don’t carry this fic into my 20s with me

2. I absolutely adore my bob’s burgers au, wagstaff side story. It’s like of you took out all of the tragedy of the original west side story and replaced it with camp and funny little references. I’m genuinely having so much fun with this au, it just makes me really happy. By the way, you should totally check out this epic and cool fanart by @drawthething !!

3. Some of you know me for my stash of ride the cyclone fics. I was truly pumping the nischa fics out like crazy. I think my favorite one that I ever wrote was something happens and i’m head over heels. I guess you could call it an au? Basically nischa gets their ferris wheel kiss. This was the first rtc fic I ever wrote, and honestly, sometimes I reread it and I can’t believe that I wrote that. Tbh my waitress fic is also really good, I think they’re tied

[chainofclovers]

AO3 ask meme: 💜🌻

17 . Your favorite character to write this year?

20 . Which work of yours have you reread the most?

29 . Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Thanks, friend!

17 . Your favorite character to write this year?

I think I still loved writing Rebecca and Ted and Beard and Roy as much as ever (and how could I ever choose okay but it's Ted, obviously [to me] [probably obvious based on my fics])! But I think I get to add Keeley to this list after this year (although I loved writing her in 2021 and 2022 too, but I wasn't as driven to, maybe, and it wasn't something I found as fun?). I think my favorite most fun moment of writing any TL character was writing Keeley's drunken thought processes in "anticipate" (Keeley/Rebecca/Ted). Yeah! Keeley!

20 . Which work of yours have you reread the most?

This year it's got to be "Last night in town," (Ted/Rebecca) because I posted it as a WIP over about 6 weeks. Even though the whole thing is well under 15k, I was really anxious not to introduce any continuity errors or mix up the details, so I kept rereading the whole thing. (Fun fact that I'm sure you know since you're a multichapter queen: you can procrastinate on writing new chapters by reading your old chapters as research!) I gave myself some timeline grace (I mean the source material is from Jason Sudeikis et al. and I absolutely share in their belief that time isn't necessarily """real"""), but I did want the general timeline and trajectory of all the visits to make sense. I knew exactly how many times they visited each other or traveled to be together and in which months!

In terms of just reading something for sheer fun and/or sheer thinkin' about writing, I think the story I reread the most from this year might be "days in love" (Rebecca/Roy, Keeley/Ted, future love square). It was a gift for a friend and I wrote specifically to her wonderful prompts, but a lot of elements of that story ended up being things that are specifically very comforting/appealing to me and so rereading it makes me feel a kinda dumb/calm happiness even if I'm the one who wrote it. :)

29 . Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

This is a silly one, but there's a passage from "days in love" that I had so much fun writing, not least because it was a bunch of characters from Apple TV+ having an experience that is distinctly Netflix:

It was Monday, February 13. They’d returned home the night before. The four of them—that’s how she thought of them—were at Keeley’s, ostensibly selecting something to watch from Netflix’s endless and overwhelming personalized categories. Keeley’s Netflix account was subject to some fascinating algorithms. Every category she scrolled through seemed to get more surreal and specific: ADORABLE ANIMALS THAT DON’T DIE AT THE END and COMING OF AGE IN LATE-STAGE CAPITALISM and WHAT TO EAT ON THE AMALFI COAST. It all started to look the same after a while, but Ted kept saying his Netflix liked to suggest this or that category too.

From the ao3 wrapped ask meme.

[sir-sunawani]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 8: Unstable

You made it home safely, and the rest of the week progressed in a similar way. The only thing that bothered you was that after Monday you kept feeling like you were being watched. You couldn't find anything definitive, but there was a powerful sense of being stalked that itched at you randomly. You wrote it off as being stressed about the auction at first, but as things progressed for the preparations you were less and less stressed.

Despite the lessening stress, the strange sensation wasn't abating.

Practicing with Dandy was going well. Aside from the fact that you were spending a couple hours every day interacting with him. You were, at least, finding a decent area between Strictly Business and Mitigated Admiration.

You'd need to fawn over Doflamingo a little more, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so with Dandy. You knew him too well, and you absolutely weren't going to give him any ammunition to use against you down the road. As coworkers it was best to keep him at slightly more than arm's length.

Organizing the space, equipment, and laying out the plans and event timing went smoothly as well. The extra hands - provided by Sir Crocodile and managed by Buggy - were a huge weight off everyone's shoulders. Especially since they were all not just competent, but quiet as well. No zany quirks, no desire to be the center of attention. They were more like you and less like Buggy or Dandy, so they didn't stress Buggy out and they didn't create additional work.

But they weren't creative. They came to people with questions on everything, almost more akin to computers than people. Not that it was a bad thing, the lack of personal decision making might have been part of their contract for all you knew. They were extra hands, and extra eyes, but that was really it.

Alvida caught you glancing around on Friday when things were finally coming together.

"What's got you so twitchy, (Y/N)?" She asks, "Anything I can help with?"

"Ah, no. Everything's pretty much handled. The Auction's Wednesday, the VIP will be in Tuesday, and I'll sleep again sometime Thursday, I'm sure." You joke, stretching. "I just keep feeling like someone's watching me, it's been for the last few days, and I can't shake it."

Alvida's expression shifts. "Have you told him?" She asks, and you knew which him she meant.

You shake your head. "I thought it was stress at first, but as everything's been getting handled, it's not abating. There's no way it's related to him though, right? Not so soon."

"Whether it is or isn't, you should let him know. Even if it's just a creepy guest or something, I imagine he'd rather get control of it than have things spiral." Alvida looks around. "Go ahead now if you want to, I'll make sure no one sees the texts."

"I don't even know what he's going to do," you grumble, pulling out your phone.

"Honey, he's a successful businessman, he's probably got 'people'," she says, making quotes with her fingers. "He'll delegate or something and it'll put your mind at ease."

You: Idk how to say this other than to say it - I feel like I'm being watched. It's been going on since Monday. I thought it was stress, so I didn't say anything, but everything's set and I'm still feeling it. It's probably nothing, I don't even know what you could do, but I figure it is better to say something than not.

"There, sent." You look up at Alvida. "I don't know what good it'll do other than worry him, but it's done. The items show up Monday, will you be ready to help me with inventory?"

"Yeah, we're going to do the big cash out Sunday to free up available time and hands on Monday. There's even a private escort process set up to get it to the bank despite it all being closed that day." She explains.

Your phone buzzes before you can say anything more, and you pull it out to check the notification.

Suwani: May I come over tonight?

You stop, nearly dropping your phone. You're quite sure, because of the text you had sent beforehand, that he's not asking to come to your apartment for anything untoward, but the idea of him being in your apartment makes your face go red. Your fingers seem to move on their own as you reply.

You: I cannot promise my place is tidy, given my hours this week, but yes?

Suwani: I'll get your address, don't send it.

You blink at your phone for a moment, wondering how he'll be able to get your address in a couple hours' time. You realize he would have access to the employee records, easily enough. Shortly after that realization is the understanding that he's concerned someone has access to your texts.

"Alvida." You say shortly, getting her attention. You show her the texts. You can see her expression change before she goes over to her desk and pulls out a box. She opens it, points to your phone, and then motions for you to put it in the box. Once you do and she closes the lid you lean forward and practically hiss. "We think someone's tapped my phone?!"

"It certainly seems to be a possibility." Alvida admits. "Though in all fairness, it might be a matter of assuming more than expected."

You sigh, "Worst-case scenario would be a tapped phone, so operate under that assumption until proven otherwise."

"Right, like how we deal with pulling Strip Miners and Card Counters. You assume the worst, then investigate. Apologies for a misunderstanding, the marines when you're right."

"Okay, if I think of it that way, I can process it better." You say, relaxing visibly and sighing. "I really hope it's just coincidental timing."

Alvida seems ready to argue, but then stops and thinks about it for a moment. "Yeah, no, I can see that." She nods her head to the box. "Want it back now that we're done?"

"Yeah." You stop her after you answer. "You have a faraday box at your desk?"

"I do – I had a friend a long time ago who needed to throw off a dangerous ex. Bought the box because of that, and now I have it for random stuff like this. Girl's gotta have options." She gives you a wink. "It's also a good place to throw my phone when I'm tired of dealing with texts from Buggy."

"... I did not hear that." You say flatly, opening the box and pulling your phone back out.

Your side eye your phone randomly as the day continues, and even with the distraction weighing on your mind you end up heading home a little early. You wanted it to all turn out to be nothing, and at the same time you wanted it to be something. You wanted to be able to trust your instincts.

When you pulled into your apartment lot you spotted a familiar figure. You parked and waved to Crocodile as you got out of your car. His appearance was his "Suwani" mode, trying to look as lowkey as a hot guy can manage without giving off CEO or Warlord vibes. He looks down at you with a quiet smile as you approach, and tilts his head toward the apartments, prompting you to continue on without saying anything.

You want to comment how it feels like you're in a spy movie, but you don't want to break the silence. You lead the way to your apartment but stop short of the door.

Your key's in your hand, but there's a key in the door.

Crocodile puts a hand out and motions for you to stay in place. You almost protest, thinking that you can't let the company CEO go into a dangerous situation, before your brain reminds you that he's a Warlord. In the moment's pause you notice a weirdly shaped gun in his hand and realize he had a ranged-style taser on him.

He steps through the door and closes it behind him, which certainly answers the question of if you should follow him in or stay outside. You decide to move to the other side of the door, just in case someone comes running out of the apartment, you don't want them to run into you. You're not big enough, or skilled enough to block the exit, and there's no reason to even entertain the idea.

After a couple minutes the door opens and Crocodile steps out, a finger up to his lips before he pantomimes for you to hand over your phone. You do and he goes back into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow in behind him.

He goes into your kitchen, and you hear the oven door being opened. He places both of your phones in the oven, leaving it off and points toward your bedroom. It's the only other room that's closed off from the kitchen and living room, so you can understand why that's where you're going. You step inside, and he steps in behind you, closing the door.

"Was someone in my home?"

He sighs. "Not that I can tell. You'll need to walk through yourself and see if anything feels out of place. Nothing was tossed, and nothing looked out of place to me, but it would have to be overt for me to notice."

"Like a horsehead in the bed," you were being sarcastic because you were a little frazzled.

"I was expecting to find a crocodile of some variety." He admits evenly.

Your brain sputters. "... Alive?"

"Sometimes."

"Some... how often have you found a crocodile in someone else's home?"

"Today would've been the first, it's usually in a vehicle or business." He says, a small smile on his lips. "Young Lady, I have been Crocodile by name since I was born, and my early years were not pretty." He says, holding up his prosthetic and pointing to his prominent scar.

"Live crocodiles as messages. Like stationary doesn't exist." You shake your head, trying to shake off the discomfort of the situation. "I - I'll look around."

Crocodile grabs your arm and catches your gaze. "If this because of me, I will resolve it. I told you before I have the resources to keep you safe."

"If it's just some random weirdo?"

"Then I will not require my resources." He answers, and everything about him is so sure, so confident, that you honestly feel a little better.

You nod, smiling slightly and walk out of the room and through your house. Nothing looks or feels out of place, and you even open some of the drawers to make sure. You work your way through the small apartment and go back into the bedroom once you're satisfied. Crocodile is sitting at your computer desk, back to the desk, fiddling with something. When you close the door and approach, he holds out a simple cell phone toward you.

"If you're okay with it, I'd like to take your phone." He begins. "This does nothing except receive and send calls and texts. It's much harder to clone or piggyback on, and there's no GPS, but It'll let you stay in touch while I have my tech expert clear your phone."

You can't help but grin as you take the small flip phone. "I feel like I'm suddenly in a spy movie," you muse. "Ah, you can take the phone and do what you want, but I don't need it back. Alvida's been nagging me to buy something from this decade, so I'll take this as a sign to get a new one."

There was a quiet moment as you put the new phone in your pocket. "I can almost hear a whirring sound coming from you," you tease, looking over and trying to suppress the grin on your face.

"Mm." He grunts, but he's not looking directly at you.

You were already aware that when he wanted something he was direct about it. His tone and body language weren't difficult to decipher, and his confidence – well earned as it was – wasn't hard to pick up on either. Right now, however, he seemed to be almost bordering on awkward, and there was only one thing between you that wasn't something you'd talked about much.

Money.

"Are you trying to figure out how to buy me a new phone?"

The obvious flinch wasn't nearly as subtle as you had expected it to be. His cool demeanor evaporated with a sigh, and he put his head in his hand for a second before bringing it up and brushing it through his hair. A motion that, as far as you were concerned, was unfairly adorable.

"I'm not trying to imply you're unable to-."

"No, it's, um, adorable." You hide your face in your hands and you can feel your ears going pink. To think that you've called him adorable of all words. Out loud. With your own mouth.

There's a soft chuckle and you hear him get up from the desk chair. "That's certainly the first time someone's called me that."

"Sorry," you murmur, still mostly hiding behind your hands. You can see, and feel, that he's nearby and despite everything else you're keenly aware of him.

"I hadn't come over with the intent to do anything, Miss (Y/N), but if you continue to seduce me like this, I may have to change my plans."

"I'm not trying!" You say in a rushed panic.

You feel him lean down, and his words and breath are by your ear. "Then you're a dangerous woman, my little desert flower, if you do so this effortlessly."

You make a noise as a shiver runs down your spine. Peeking through your fingers and looking up, you meet the deep amber gold eyes focused on you. There's a knowing smirk pulling at his lips as he reaches up and gently pulls one of your hands away, a soft gasp escaping you before he kisses your cheek.

Moving your other hand away on your own, you turn toward him, lips brushing across his. Your eyes close and you realize that you haven't so much as touched him since your first date. You wonder idly how you could manage so long on your own and be okay, only to feel so needy right now.

He deepens the kiss, his warm fingers running along the line of your jaw. His thumb rests against your chin and you don't resist as the light pressure parts your lips and gives way to the tongue that follows. His pleasant hum pushes against you as his left-hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he cradles your head and threatens to devour the air from your lungs.

There's a hunger in his actions that makes you feel better about your own need as the kiss breaks enough for you to draw breath, and not a moment longer. His desire crashes into you again, and there's a tug at your clothes. It's not enough of one to remove them on your behalf, and the request is hardly questioning. It's more a declaration of his desires and a chance for you to push them aside if you need to.

You reach up to take your work jacket off, when a horn honk out in the parking lot causes you both to stop. After a second there's another honk and Crocodile makes an aggravated noise, before straightening up and taking a step back. Despite his efforts to keep himself composed, his displeasure is painfully clear, even as straightens his clothes and brushes a few errant strands of hair out of his face.

"My apologies. I'll have to speak with Mr. One about his punctuality." His apology is soft, but he practically bites the last word off in a growl.

"If he'd only been a minute or two later, I think it'd be worse." You admit.

There's an amused grin and soft grunt from him. "After the auction, I'd like to take you on a proper date."

"By proper I feel like you mean Baratie's." You tease, "I would be honored." You answer, before he has a chance to say anything different.

"The honor," he says smoothly, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips. "Will be all mine, Miss (Y/N)."

Crocodile kisses your hand, and then puts a finger up to his lips as he leaves the bedroom and gathers both of your phones from inside the oven. He leaves without looking back, and you can understand why as you close the door behind him, letting out the frustrated sigh you'd been holding in since the first horn honk.

[polizwrites]

WIP Update - 12 Jul 2023

Another super-productive writing week!   I touched 5  fics (3 WIPs & 2 new works)  for a total of   4101 words.

On Ao3, I posted:

Chapter Three of  You Can’t Stop It With a Gun -  young!Clint is kidnapped & brainwashed by Hydra; Winter Soldier!Bucky befriends him.

Starting Something New - Pepperony domestic fluff

Finding Something Fresh -  Stucky omegaverse + No Powers AU meet cute.

On Tumblr I posted:

What Happens in San Francisco…  -  Stucky outsider POV (Eddie & Venom accidental voyeurism

I have  17 semi-active WIPs  😬 with my  current  deadlines being the WinterIron Pride Prompt Party (extended thru 15 Jul), July Break Bingo (ends 31 Jul),  Tony Stark This or That event and Hot Bucky Summer event, which both end 31 Aug.

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing   Morguna and the Green Queen, I  got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked  Faustie into   collab’ing with me!  We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve  contributed about 900 words towards the  2500-ish we have so far.   Going to see if I can squeeze any of my BBB squares into this fic. 

WinterIron Pride Prompt Party  [WI_PPP]  (Ends 15 Jul)

While this daily prompt event hosted by the WinterIron Discord server   technically ended on 30 Jun - they’ve extended the event to mid month, so I may try to get another couple of fills in  as well as existing ones copied to Ao3 and added to the collection.

I’ve completed twelve prompts with Tumblr ficlets  so far:  Day 1: First Meetings = Potential for Retribution;  Day 2: Yearning =  Dressing for the Occasion ; Day 3: Gender Euphoria = Where Will He Be Tomorrow?   Day 4: Dragons are Gay = A Shift in Their Relationship;  Day 5: Fluidity =  Tony Stark’s Pride 101;  Day 6: Internalized Homophobia = Two Lists Day 7: Questioning = Solving for X and  Day 9: Older Gays = All the King’s Horses.   Day 12 - Audacity =  Make Way for a Fabulous Tomorrow  Day 19: Armored Heart = Music to His Ears  Day 20: Both Are Good = Both. Both is Good  Day 30: Hope = There Would Be No Courage Were It Not For Hope

July Break Bingo  [JBB_23] (Ends 31 Jul)

Signed up for a 3x3 card for this all fandoms, no minimums bingo  (signups open til 15 Jul) because of course I need more prompts!   😁😬  I have two fills and one WIPs with another idea or two to work on. 

* A2 - “I think I’m losing my mind.”  Filled this with What Happens in San Francisco…  in combination with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF208 Reporting the Scoop]  and a SVB adoptable: Celebration Sex

* B3 - Pining/Longing/Being Needy - this might fit in nicely with A Sugar Coated Pill or Technicalities. 

* C1 - Location: Art Studio - combining this with my SAUB AU: Teacher and TSB Dares/Bets squares for a  Tony & Rhodey bro-fic that becomes a SteveTony meet cute.  I banged out 1586 words of  Teacher, Teacher, Can You Reach Me?  in basically a day and will get posted on the 19th.

* C2 - Moving In/New Home - filled this with Starting Something New, an expansion of this Tumblr ficlet I wrote for  @writingfanficsfan based on a flower prompt.  It’s Pepperony domestic fluff that crossed over with my TSB Pairing: Tony/Pepper and  WFB  Affectionate Teasing squares; it came in at 396 words and posted last Monday.  

* C3 - Mutual Pining –  maybe use this as an excuse to get my Centerfold  Stucky fic finally started...? 

Hot Bucky Summer [BBE_HBS]  (Ends Aug 30)

Another @buckybarnesevents  event, this time with weekly smexy prompts.  I’d like to complete at least two fics/chapters per month for this challenge. 

Week Eight - “How did you meet?” + High Stakes Op - Chapter 3 of   A Sugar Coated Pill, will fill these prompts  - and I’ll throw in my WIB AU: A/B/O square for this as well.  This chapter is drafted as well and sitting at 1229 words - it may get tweaked a bit before posting on 7/21.  

Week Nine:  FREE    – cheating a bit and going back to the Week Three prompts.: (“Where do you want me?” + in my lap)  for Chapter 4 of A Sugar Coated Pill. It’s crossing over with the ACB July adoptable Mate Induced Heat/Rut and is drafted at 1234 words.  It will post on 7/28.

Tony Stark This or That [TSTOT_23] (Ends 31 Aug)

Excited to see this event (hosted by @tstot​​ ) come back!  When you sign up, you get a card with 10  prompts  in pairs  - so to complete the card, you create five fanworks.   I’ve got some good stuff on my card - and a few prompts where it’s hard to choose between them!   Banter vs ‘bots,   Best Friend vs Mutual Pining -- I may just have to flip a coin!  😁

* 3b - Omegaverse  -  this slots nicely into A Sugar Coated Pill, so will fill this square with Chapter 3. 

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1]  (Ends 30 Sep)

I’ve got thirteen completed fics, three WIPs and  will be pursuing the One Fill, One Bingo  Challenge for Row 5.  

* I1 - Mutual Pining - may combine with something on my BBB card - see if the Centerfold fic idea fits in here.

* G1 - Isaiah Bradley -  Planning to add more to The Fist, Defeated.   (possibly present day)

* G3 - Established Relationship - planning to fill this with Chapter 2 of   Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole   - a Bucky POV remix of at least the first part of Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right),  which is current sitting at  52 words.  I’m expecting at least one more chapter, possibly two, depending on how far I want to take the remix.  

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - may try to squish this into an expansion of   A Rising Star -  a previous Flash Fiction Friday fill. 

* July Adoptable - Mate Induced Heat/Rut --  snapped this up to use with Chapter 4 of A Sugar Coated Pill,  since it already fit with my plan...

Sam Wilson Bingo [SWB_R3]  (Ends 15 Oct 2023)

I have four fills and one WIP -  I need to work on cross fills between this and the All Caps and Bucky Barnes bingo!

* B4 - Natasha Romanoff -  Maybe add on to my Card Sharks drabble, where  SamNat & Steve conspire to create a polycule with Bucky?

* G3 - Joaquin Torres - see ACB Pararescue Sam Wilson above.

WinterIron Bingo  - [WIB_R1]   (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

I have eleven fills completed and two WIPs for this brand-new bingo event that I’m helping mod!  Along with crossfilling against my other bingos,  I’m going to try to combine my B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). – Alpha Tony Stark, “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes, Alpine loves Tony and Blind date.   (Tony POV remix of A Sugar Coated Pill?)

* I2 - AU:A/B/O - will pull this into Chapter 3 of   A Sugar-Coated Pill

* N1 - Bucharest –  I think I can fold this into a future chapter of My Love is Vengeance -  where a young!Tony and a recovering!Bucky have been kidnapped by Hydra, who still thinks Bucky is the Soldier. 

* G2 - Eye contact during sex -  will be working this into the upcoming Chapter 5 of  A Sugar-Coated Pill

* G4 - AU: College Students – looking to expand Beaten to the Punch with some backstory on Bucky and Tony as science camp counselors to fit with this square - will also cross over with my WFB  Volunteering Together square.  

* O5 - Gentle – use this poem  as inspiration?

* July Adoptable: “What happened to you?”  I may browse through some whump prompts for this & see what vibes with my BBB & TSB bingos.

Stucky’Verse Bingo Round 1 - [SVB_R1]   (Ends 22 Dec)

Two fills, two WIPs and a couple of ideas  -  I need to review my card for potential crossfills and other idea sparks.

* A4 - Fairy Tale Curse  - this seems custom-made for a continuation of Beyond the Beast  😁  Nothing written yet, other than some Vague Ideas.  

* B1 - Beta/Omega Relationship - Chapter One  of Finding Something Fresh posted this morning  -  Beta!Bucky and omega!Steve meet cute at the farmer’s market.  It was supposed to be a one-shot, but the idea grabbed a hold of some brain cells 😁  Chapter One came in at 447 words and have at least 2 more chapters in mind.

* B3 - Tied to a Bed –  this will probably be Chapter 3 of Finding Something Fresh  just so you know…. 😁

* D4 - Edging - will probably use this for the next chapter of   Technicalities

* D5 - Trust Issues  - used this for  Chapter 2 of   Finding Something Fresh   Bucky & Steve work out the next steps in their relationship.  It’s drafted at 943 words and will post on Friday.  

* Adoptable  - Things Have Changed –  this might fit nicely with my Centerfold idea…  :: ponders::

Bucky Barnes Bingo  - [BBB_R5]   (Ends 10 Jan 2024)

I’ve got  nine fills,  three WIPs,   and a couple more Vague ideas.

* B4 - Shapeshifters -  wrote . A Shift in Their Relationship as a crossover with the WI_PPP prompt Dragons are Gay.  This came in at 404 words and will be posted to Ao3 before this event is over.  

* U2 - Clint Barton/Hawkeye -  Posted Chapter 3 of You Can’t Stop It With a Gun on Friday - it came in at 928 words.

* C2 - Yelena Belova–   The plan is to use this prompt in the next chapter of Peresmešnik,  (aka Three Avengers and a Baby), which is currently sitting at 1100 words (400-ish of which are mine). 

* C5 - Marriage of Convenience/Pretend Couple -  next chapter of   Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion.    Not quite sure where to take this next at the moment.  😕

* K3 - Magic -  Aro!Bucky sickfic idea?

* Y1 - Gentle Sex - use this in Chapter 5 of  A Sugar-Coated Pill

* Y2 - [image: IW Bucky with the good hair] A Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF198 What Comes Next]   was a perfect match for an idea I’d already been playing around with to fill this square.  Getting Prepared -(updated title = Preparations)   an A:IW missing scene set between the time that T’Challa and Okoye come for Bucky and the moment he sees Steve again.  I will post it to Ao3 sometime in the next month or so.

* Y3 - Alpine  - see WIB Iron Soldier combo.

* Y4 - Forgotten Things -   using this for Chapter 4 of   You Can’t Stop It With a Gun  - it’s sitting at  116 words at the moment.      

Tony Stark Bingo Round 7  - [TSB_R7]   (ends 15 Feb)

One fill and two WIPs already, with a couple of ideas in play.  

* S1 - Galaxy - possibly use in final chapter of   Never More to Go Astray ?    

* R4 - Playing Games - filled this with last weekend’s  TSB Discord Party Round Robin – my part came in at 327 words and it should get posted by the end of the week.  

* R5 - Doppelganger/Evil Twins -  this will probably cross over with my Stony AUniverse AU: Crack square as I have a semi-silly idea for it, inspired by seeing a T shirt of mine in a mirror.

* K3 - Pairing: Tony/Pepper  -  See JBB Moving In/New Home above.

Stony AUniverse Bingo  [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Another brand-new bingo I’m helping co-mod!  Got my card and square swaps sorted, and have several  crossover WIPs  and ideas already!

* S2 - AU: Crack - see TSB   Doppelganger/Evil Twins

* S3 - AU: Wings - see ACB Established Relationship

* S5 - Accidental Baby Acquisition - see BBB Yelena Belova

* T1 - AU: Fantasy -  CoffeeOwl shared a really cool dragon!Steve/indebted!Tony prompt in the ACB Discord server that I may be playing with for this.

* N1 - AU: Spy -  I want to expand on/add backstory to  Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight from the Stony Drabbles challenge earlier.

* Y3 - Teacher AU:  see JBB Location: Art Studio

Warm and Fluffy   Bingo  - [WFB]   (no end date)

I got my card from  @warmandfluffybingocards back in February but really hadn’t done much with it  - however, I’m picking it back up for some crossover possibilities!

* N4 - Affectionate Teasing –  see JBB  Moving In/New Home above  

* O5 - Volunteering Together – see WIB AU: College Students

————

On  other creative fronts:  I have an   Scooby-Dum Stuffed With Character figure in progress for an online commission.  I will be making an announcement about commissions sometime in July so if  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 100!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

[jesterjamz]

goodnigtht!!!

[tonystarksfavoritedaughter]

Crazy Rich Avengers

Chapter 1:

Summary: You and Peter have been dating for a little over 6 months and have not yet met the Avengers. You were getting curious as to when you would meet them, until you get an invitation from Tony Stark himself, inviting you and Peter to Wanda and Vision’s wedding in Hawaii over Spring Break. You thought that it would be nice to go and finally meet everyone, but what will you think after you’ve been tested by the team?

*Based on the movie Crazy Rich Asians, each chapter will be a different scene from the movie. There will be 15 chapters. Also includes a GIF from the movie scene at the beginning of each chapter.

A/N: I’ve had this series planned for a little while now, and I just got this chapter done and edited and I feel really good about it. I didn’t know if anyone would want to read this until I posted about it yesterday and got some really good feedback, so thank you all who liked it and asked to be on the taglist so much! This chapter is the first scene of the movie, just some things are switched up to fit Peter and the Avengers. Just note that this one is kind of short and nothing much really happens in this chapter since it is just the beginning, but hopefully the next one is a bit juicer. 

Warnings: swearing and fluff 

Word count: 2166

Chapter 1

“Okay class, make sure to email me those presentations by Monday. I don’t want to keep reminding you guys over Spring Break because I’ve still got a life outside being a professor.” The whole class laughs at your professor’s bluntness. It kind of reminds you of your friend from high school, who would always spoke her truth, even when no one asked for it. You packed your things and waited for a clear space to exit your row. Who knew so many kids would be in a business class? Not you apparently. You were a culinary student at the Institute of Culinary Education or ICE for short. Your dream was to become a baker and own your bakery, hence the business class. This was your last class of the day, and you couldn’t wait to see your boyfriend. You two had been dating for a little over six months and it was the best six months you could ever ask for.

You exited out of the classroom, finally, and made your way towards the elevator. On the way down, you looked through your messages and saw that you had five new texts from Peter.

Peter: Hey babe! I’m out of my photography class now. (1:15)

Peter: Waiting by the couches (1:15)

Peter: I miss you (1:17)

Peter: I’m hungry. Let’s go to that pizza place for lunch. I really want some of their cannoli’s (1:20)

Peter: Y/NNN!!! WHERE ARE YOU??? (1:23)

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you walked over to Peter, who sprang out of his seat and practically ran over to you. He hugged with the force of what you assumed felt like ten tons just based on how tight he held you. You laughed at his clinginess and pushed him off of you.

“Dude my class ran like ten minutes late. What’s the matter with you?” you laugh.

He held your hand in his own and smiles at you. “Just missed you is all. Did you see my text about the cannoli’s?”

“Yeah I saw it.”

“And?” he asks hopefully.

“Aaaaaand what?” you played dumb just to see his cute pouty face.

“Can we get cannoli’s?”

“Yes, we can get a cannoli.”

“Ah! You’re the best! Cannoli’s!” he yells at an insane volume for someone who’s just walking down the street. This earns you both a weird look from the people on the sidewalk. You were about to kiss his cheek until he just took off down the street with your hand still in his. You guessed you never knew he liked cannoli’s so much. Maybe you should try out a recipe and make him some one day.

You get into the pizza restaurant and sit down across from each other and waited for the waiter to take your order. You order your drinks; Peter gets Diet Pepsi and you get a Sprite. Both of you talk about how your classes went and held each other’s hand while you talked.

“So, I’ve got to do this project for my class,” Peter began, “And my camera is at the Compound, so tomorrow I’ll be a little late getting home.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Oh! Speaking of which,” you slam your palms on the table, which makes Peter jump a little. “When am I going to meet them? I mean we’ve been dating for going on seven months now, and I still haven’t met them. And I know they know about me because I got a message from Nat telling me happy birthday two weeks ago.” You raise an eyebrow at him waiting for his answer.

“Speaking of said topic, that reminds me. We got invited to Wanda and Vision’s wedding. And it is next Friday in Hawaii, which is perfect because a) we don’t have classes because it’s Spring Break, and b) I know Hawaii is one of your bucket list places.”

Your jawed dropped for several reasons. One, it’s Wanda and Vision’s fucking wedding! You never met them, but from the way Peter talked about them, you could tell they were meant to be. You always thought that they were like what you and Peter had times one hundred.

“Are you serious? They’re having their wedding in Hawaii?”

“Yeah. They thought that since Mr. Stark – “

“What can I get you two today?” the waiter asked breathless. You didn’t even realize how busy they were.

You looked up at him, “I’ll have a slice of the cheese pizza please?”

“And I’ll have two slices of the meat lovers. And can I get three of your best cannoli’s please?” Peter smiled at the waiter as he wrote down your order.

“Alright that’ll be right out.” He walked away almost jogging to get your order in. Goodness they were slammed.

“As I was saying,” Peter continued. “Mr. Stark has one of those beach houses in Maui and so, they thought that it would be the perfect place for them to tie the knot.”

“Wow, so, we’re invited? Like we’re going to Maui and attending the wedding? And meeting everyone?” you asked now slightly worried.

“Yeah,” he drags out confused. “That’s what kind of what ‘You’re Invited’ means.”

“I know, it’s just…this will be the first time I’m meeting them and I always imagined it would be at a like Sunday dinner type of thing. Not a fucking Avengers wedding!”

“It’s okay, I know they’re gonna love you no matter what.”

You take a sip of your drink, “This is also works out for another reason because MJ has been asking us to come see her ever since she moved to Kahului.”

“All the more reason to go.”

You both get your food and Peter immediately starts on the cannoli’s that he’s been longing to eat and practically moans at the taste of them. You get the check and pay and tipped extra for your waiter, because they need to be paid way more than minimum wage. The two of you walk out and head home so you can spend the rest of the night together.

“So, when do we leave for Maui?” you ask, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you.

“Umm, I believe on Saturday.”

Today was Thursday so that means that you only had tonight and tomorrow to pack for a whole entire week. “Shit! I have almost no clothes washed, are you kidding me?” you yell. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I just found out this morning!” he yelled back.

“Okay, well it’s a good thing tomorrow I don’t have classes because now I have to do laundry all damn day.” You reach your shared apartment and go to change clothes and you go straight to the laundry room, faster than Peter could imagine. All of your good, cute clothes had to be air dried and so that’s what you did first. After half hour of folding, and drying, and hanging up clothes non-stop, Peter came in wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby, you’ve been here for forever, come sit down with me,” he pleaded.

“I will once I have all the clothes done, but until then,” you pat his cheek. “I can’t.”

He sighs an ‘okay’ and plants a kiss on your cheek and walks away. About twenty minutes later you had gotten all the laundry done and went to join Peter on the couch. He was watching reruns of Brooklyn 99 which was one of your favorite shows. He put his arms out and made grabby hands and you leaned into his touch. You laid your head on his chest with the rest of your body sprawled out on the couch. He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. You looked up and kissed his lips and sat up just a bit straighter. One of his hands went to the back of your neck and the other rubbed your thigh, and you relaxed even more into him. Your right hand carded through his hair and the other sat splayed on his peck, slightly gripping his shirt. You two stayed like this for what felt like hours, just basking in each other’s comfort. You pulled back to breathe and gave him one last kiss before going back to your original position, laying on him.

“What do you wanna watch?” He yawned.

“Well since your yawning and –“ you yawned this time. “And so am I, let’s just take a nap.”

He hummed in agreement and led you to your shared bedroom and he changed into just a pair of sweatpants. You laid down and he did shortly after. You turned, facing him as your chests were touching. You stared at him for quite a long time before you even realized that you were. His face scrunched up that was so cute you wanted to take a picture.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look cute,” you said back.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Nope. I do,” he challenged.

“That’s impossible because I love you to Jupiter and back,” you kissed his nose, ultimately shutting it down because you were tired. School had kicked your ass this week and you hadn’t really had anytime to just lay with Peter. You scooted down a bit so, you could lay your head on his chest, your legs intertwined, as he held you against him so tight that nothing could slip in between you two.

The next morning you had woken up extra early to make some French toast for you and Peter. You got out the bread and butter and the rest of the ingredients and started cooking. Since you were the one who was in the culinary department, the silent agreement between you and Peter was that you would cook, and he would clean your mess. You tried to not make too much of a mess, because you weren’t that mean. After a couple more minutes you got breakfast done and at that exact moment you put the toast on the plate, Peter comes waddling out with his hair a mess. It was almost like it was scripted like a scene in a movie.

“I smelled French Toast,” he smiled.

“Mhm, I thought that I would be nice and cook breakfast for you this time.” You pecked his cheek and gave him the syrup.

“Eat up and get ready for a long day of packing suitcases, babe,” you winked at him.

“Oh boy.” You didn’t hear his sarcasm often, but when you did it always made you chuckle.

He went over to the couch and you followed setting up the coffee table and turning on Spongebob to watch as you ate. You turned towards him and smiled and received a kiss on the nose. Today was going to be a good day, you thought.

It was now four thirty in the evening and you and Peter were packing up all your belongings into your suitcases. “Okay so you need your swim trunks, flip flops, sunglasses, and what else?” You ask.

“Is that just for swimming?” You nodded. “Then yeah I think that’s it.” You went over to his drawer grabbing his trunks out along with your swimsuit. You had all your clothes spread out into separate piles consisting of swimwear, pajamas, nice shirts, casual shirts, and wedding attire. Peter grabbed all of his clothes and stuffed them into his suitcase and you did the same. After that you went to the bathroom to grab all extra stuff that consisted of teeth and hair products, and everything in that category. Peter went into the kitchen to the medicine and started to pack anything that might be needed for allergy’s and whatnot. You figured you would pack your purse of carry on items before you left tomorrow morning.

After two hours of packing and double checking, and once the bed was cleared, you flopped down face first and groaned. “I’m so exhausted,” you huffed.

“Aww, is my baby tired?” He asked this as he pressed feather-light kisses to your neck that always made you shudder.

“Yes,” you say as you awaited a kiss on the lips. He happily kisses you, slow and lovingly, and you feel like you could stay there for eternity. He pulls away for minute to catch his breath. “We should probably figure out what we want to do for dinner.”

“How ‘bout leftovers? There’s still some enchiladas or lemon pepper chicken in the fridge.”

“Ooooh, let’s do chicken.”

You get up from the bed to heat the chicken up in the oven. “Imma make some garlic cheesy rice too!” You shout from the kitchen.

“Sounds good, baby.”

You two make your dinner and eat in a comfortable silence, watching TV. You both decided to watch one more episode of Parks and Rec before calling it a night, and Peter figured it would be smart to go to bed early since you would both have a long day of checking flights and meeting the Avengers tomorrow; and that was tiring by itself.

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29​ @spideyspeaches​ @binnotjin​

[davidfarland]

Over the last few weeks,

I’ve been talking about some of the tawdry practices that go on in our industry, and I’ve been wanting to talk about rules of conduct when giving reviews. Too often online I’ve seen instances where people are buying reviews or selling them or trading favors.

Here are a few rules that I think you should consider adopting:

1.DON’T REVIEW EVERY BOOK THAT YOU ARE ASKED TO DO

In the course of your career, you will most likely get thousands of requests for reviews. On an average week, I get two requests for cover quotes. Unfortunately, reading a long novel (say 800 pages of manuscript) can take as a much as 20 hours. If I were to read two novels a week, I wouldn’t have time to write anything at all. So, here are some basic reasons why you must turn things down.

a) If you don’t have time to give a quote, just be honest. There have been times in my life when I really wanted to give a quote and just couldn’t. For example, one of my students, Brandon Mull, asked for a quote a few years back for his novel Fablehaven. I felt terrible, but his timing was just bad for me. (I’ve read the novel since, and I loved it.) He’s gone on to have a great career (#1 New York Times Bestseller), but every time that I see him, I just feel crummy. Now that he’s in my shoes, I know that he understands just how hectic life can be.

b) If you give too many reviews, then it devalues your reviews. Many authors set a limit of say, 2 per year. That’s a wise thing to do. Years ago, when Terry Brooks gave me a nice cover quote for The Runelords, I felt grateful. When I later learned that Terry almost never gives cover quotes, I felt even more honored. (I think that he has only given a couple of quotes in his life, as I recall.) So lend some credence to your quotes by restricting the number that you give. More importantly, if you really want to give a quote to a novel, make it a priority.

c) If the novel is not in the genre that you write in, then most likely the publisher won’t want your cover quote anyway. I write fantasy. If someone who writes horror or romance or mainstream or young adult asks for a cover quote, then I don’t feel that it does them much good to give them a cover quote. In fact, I’ve given a couple quotes that the publisher has never used, so aside from heartwarming the author, it really didn’t help.

2. NEVER GIVE A QUOTE FOR MONEY

I know a couple of authors who, in an effort to cut down on the number of people who ask for quotes, have said that they charge a high dollar amount for a cover quote. The argument goes like this: it costs me a lot of time (and therefore money) to read a book. If I’m going to read a novel with an eye toward a quote, which may have a huge impact on sales, why shouldn’t I get paid to do it?

The problem is that it causes a moral conundrum. If I get paid for a cover quote, will it be an honest one? Won’t the fact that I’m getting paid skew my perceptions? I think that it would. So I would never pay for a quote. On the occasions where people have asked me to give quotes for a reading fee, I’ve always refused to even read the book. Sorry, it just feels weird. Of course it goes without saying that you should never offer to pay for a cover quote, nor should you offer to give another author a quote in return for a favorable quote.

I do know that some places, like Kirkus and Publisher’s Weekly, do offer to review books for a reading fee. Personally, I wouldn’t do it. I realize that it takes time (and therefore money) for a reviewer to read and critique a novel that way, but I worry that this is one of those practices that gets a little too close to the line.

Please note that there are times when you may have an author that you admire who also happens to like your work. For example, I’m a fan of Brandon Sanderson, so I was eager to give him a cover quote on his first novel. In fact, for enjoyment I picked up his novel Steelheart this last Saturday and it is next on my reading list. Brandon recently gave me a quote on one of my novels.

I also happen to be a fan of several other best-selling authors. So I wouldn’t feel bad if one of them gave me a cover quote, and I would feel honored if one of them offered a quote. That of course is different from agreeing to give rave reviews to a stranger that you’ve only just met online.

3. BE HONEST IN YOUR REVIEW

I’ve had people send me books that I just didn’t enjoy. This is tough. Can you give a plug to a book that you don’t think is really any good? If you read the first chapter, and you really don’t want to read on, you have to stop right there. You can be gentle with the author and say, “This really just didn’t grab me. I’m sorry.”

You don’t have to be brutal about it. Remember that as authors, whether we’re indie or traditionally published, we are all struggling to get better, and we may have different aims and different emotional triggers. A novel that doesn’t interest me may thrill someone else.

When I read, if I suspect that I’m not the audience for that book, I ask myself, “Is there an audience for this book? And if so, can I tailor my remarks to that audience?”

I recall one author who hated Lord of the Rings. When he was asked to review a fantasy novel that he also hated, guess what he compared it to?

That’s a little bit cynical for me, but the concept is sound, so long as your remarks are honest.

4. PHRASE YOUR WORDING CAREFULLY WHEN GIVING A REVIEW

Remember that you need to have short bites that can fit on a cover. You can review both the author and the work.

For example, I recently read a science fiction novel that I loved by new author Milo Behr. It will be debuting this week, and I’ll let you know more in a day or two. I could say something like “Milo Behr’s novel Beowulf: A Bloody Calculus was the most exciting cyberpunk debut I’ve seen in twenty years,” and I’d be completely honest about the book. I haven’t seen one that I personally liked as much since William Gibson made his debut.

But what if the author so impresses you that you want to give him or her a quote that could be used for all future novels? In Milo Behr’s novel, he did something both brilliant and nearly unthinkable. He wrote his novel as an epic poem, then put it in narrative form. The result is that the novel has a hypnotic effect, unlike anything that I’ve seen outside of Poe and a couple of mainstream writers. So, for example, I might say something like, “Milo Behr’s work is brilliant and mesmerizing.”

5. REMEMBER THAT AS A REVIEWER, YOU’RE NOT ALWAYS RIGHT

Many years ago I reviewed a novel that, quite frankly, really bothered me. The protagonist was so reluctant to do anything at all that I just couldn’t relate. I wrote a review for a small magazine, then heard from some fans who loved the book. They said, “When I read that novel, that protagonist was me.” And I realized, that there was a huge audience for the book, but I just wasn’t part of it. When offering a review, you’re making your own artistic judgment. Others might not share your opinions.

What I want to emphasize here is that giving reviews can be tough. It will take time that you may not have to give, it will present moral challenges that you might not want to face, do it with caution.

Happy Writing!

David Farland

On Monday, Sam Payne, musician and storyteller will be talking with the Apex Writers Group.

On Saturday, Glen Thomson will be our honored guest on Apex.

Reserve your spot by visiting www.apex-writers.com

Come see me at FanX at booth #233. Thursday at 6 in 250a for How to Write Sci-Fi or Fantasy Series. Friday at 11 in 151D for Ask a New York Times Bestseller. Friday at 1 in 355B with Writers of the Future! See you there!

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Tempering (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (淬炼) which has not been released in English servers!🍒

This R&S features S2 Gavin!

[ Chapter One ]

Eight-year old Tang Chao wrote in his homework: My aspiration is to be free and easy, and get to sleep after a full meal. 

The teacher failed him.

Eighteen-year old Tang Chao wasn’t able to be free and easy, nor get sleep after a full meal. This is because he was recommended for admission into the police academy.

Everyone knows that he’s a “specially enrolled student”. When he entered the academy, he didn’t even have to go through the “Demon Test”. He wasn’t treated harshly by the officers during training. The first semester consisted of some foundational stamina training and a few superficial criminal investigation classes. In the first month, Tang Chao barely passed in every course. Yet, he remains unusually carefree.

Tang Chao’s roommate feels indignant. “It’s only because your Evol is special. Otherwise, you’d have been expelled from the academy a long time ago with such grades.”

“That’s right, my Evol is special.” Tang Chao arches his brows. “If the academy were to expel me, they’ll experience a great loss.”

Detecting lies is essentially an Evol meant for criminal investigation. And it’s precisely because of this ability that he was recommended for admission into this first-rate police academy despite his average physique. 

“Hmph. Anyway, you only have a few more days of being carefree.” His roommate flips over on the iron bed, sticking out half his head from above. “I heard from the instructors that the first month after entering the academy merely counts as a warm up. Actual training will only begin next week. The higher-ups even sent a third year student to supervise us. Guess who our class got?”

“Who?”

His roommate pauses with each syllable. “Gav. In!”

“Who’s Gavin?”

His roommate almost falls down from the bed. “You don’t even know who Gavin is?”

“Why do I have to know him...” Tang Chao mutters. “Is this person very famous?”

“Famous! He’s so famous! He’s celebrated!”

The famous Senior Gavin had passed, with record-breaking marks, the admission exam, physical capabilities, shooting, Close Quarters Combat, simulated sand tables... His marks for various segments have never fallen below the top three places. In his second year, he was already heading out on missions with full-time Evol agents. Even before graduating, he was so popular that police departments from various districts were already falling over each other in their eagerness to snatch him up.

“...but I heard that mission was pretty tragic. It seems a comrade from the same squadron as him lost his life... Hey, are you listening to me?”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” Despite Tang Chao’s perfunctory words, he has to admit that this Senior Gavin is indeed more of a special police officer than he is.

Or rather, Evol special police officers ought to be like Gavin. 

“I should caution you. Apparently, he’s exceptionally haughty, and you might as well be a grain of sand in his eyes.” His roommate pats the edge of the bed. “You should be a little more serious next week.”

Tang Chao laughs. “What can he do to me? I’m someone with a special privilege.”

His roommate clicks his tongue, not advising him further. “Seeing that you have such virtuous conduct, you can ask for help after meeting him.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

After assembling in the field on Monday morning, Tang Chao realises that a young man in his twenties is standing next to their class leader. The other party looks fierce, his back even straighter than the Chinese fir trees along the field. At a glance, it’s evident that there’s a world of difference between him and this batch of newly enrolled students.

“This is Student Gavin from the Seventh Squadron. This semester, he will be a provisional supervisor and instructor. In the training from now onwards, I want all of you to be more spirited and driven, and prohibited from embarrassing our class.” The class leader exclaims. “Do you hear me!”

“Yes!”

Amid the uniform responses from the formation, Gavin’s line of sight sweeps across this batch of new students. Everyone holds their breaths and keep silent, thinking that this senior would be giving them a lecture. In the end, the other party simply nods. “In that case, we’ll officially begin. As a warm up, run 10km.”

How many kilometres?

Everyone looks at each other, thinking they must have misheard.

Tang Chao raises his hand. “Reporting to the instructor - We typically run 5km in the mornings...”

Gavin turns a deaf ear to him. “Turn to the right, get ready --- Run.”

[Note] I recorded the audio for his command because why not

At this point, everyone realises that Gavin is truly like what the rumours said, and is not to be trifled with. All they can do is gulp in resentment, running in formation. Tang Chao deliberately lags at the very end, then walks towards Gavin, giving him a salute. “Reporting to the instructor.”

Gavin looks at him.

“I can’t run 10km.” Tang Chao is straightforward. “I have a special situation. The class leader and the others know about it. If I were to run 10km, I’ll really die...”

“Since you’re enrolled in the police academy, there’s no special situation.” Gavin responds. “As for whether or not you’ll die, we’ll talk about that after you’ve finished running.”

“...”

In the end, Tang Chao finishes running. Or rather, he finishes crawling.

The other students in class have already finished running and have headed off for breakfast. He’s the only one who resembles a ghost, drifting on the field. Occasionally, some classmates would pass by. He usually laughs and jokes around while they’re still running, so seeing him - who entered through the back door - finishing last leaves them gloating a little.

Gavin, on the other hand, doesn’t gloat. When Tang Chao staggers to the end point, he speaks with a blank expression. “You’re late by 20 minutes. Have your breakfast. The class will assemble after 20 minutes, and we’ll start with the next training. 

Initially, Tang Chao was already too tired to speak. After hearing this command, he can’t help but do so. “Brother... ah no, Instructor Gavin, even if you’re just showing your authority at the first encounter, it should be enough.”

Gavin furrows his brows.

“Just look at how cooperative I’ve been. Seeing how I've ended up, the others in class will definitely listen and obey you unquestioningly.” Tang Chao cracks his knuckles. “But my physical constitution is really like this. It isn’t my choice to rank at the bottom of the class. Could you just close an eye and let me off?”

Gavin looks at his unwillingness to change, and speaks plainly. “Since you’re so unwilling to undergo training, what are you doing here.”

Tang Chao shrugs. “There’s not much reason. Someone needs me to be here, undergo some simple training, go through the motions, then graduate as a matter of course, then help crack some cases and make a living.”

“What I'm asking is - why are you staying here.” Gavin’s voice turns stern. “If someone didn’t need it, you wouldn't be here? When you were running, I asked your class leader for the training results from your first month. Most of your marks hovered around the passing grade, and you had to re-take a few tests.”

Tang Chao releases an “mm” sound -- even though it’s very embarrassing to be told this in such a straightforward manner, the results are black and white, so he doesn’t hope to get anything higher.

Gavin continues. “From the numbers of your make-up examinations, you actually have quite a lot of potential.”

Tang Chao is left dumbfounded.

“Since you have potential, don’t waste it.” After Gavin finishes speaking, he leaves.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

Gavin’s demon-like training continues. On the second day, he adds weight training and 200 push-ups to the training regimen. At this point, it’s not just Tang Chao who can’t handle it - the other new students in the class can’t endure it midway through. On the third day, he adds an obstacle course and forty minutes of wrestling on top of the basic training.

“I think I understand now. Senior Gavin doesn’t want me to die. He wants everyone to die.” Tang Chao feebly concludes during wrestling training.

Finally, a week goes by. A simulation tactics manoeuvre is added to the training. This is a rare course in which Tang Chao can attain high marks. With an Evol which allows him to detect lies, he’s especially skilled in courses related to psychological warfare. He looks at the holographic sand table before him. Filled with inexplicable courage, he suddenly raises his hand. “Report.”

“What is it?” Gavin’s voice drifts over from the front.

"I wish to challenge Gavin to a round.” Tang Chao raises his voice.

At this moment, soft discussions fill the surroundings. Gavin arches his brows. Amid the discussions, he walks to the other side of the holographic sand table, not engaging in superfluous words. “Which one do you want to start?”

“Rescuing hostages in a factory. I’ll storm the fortification.”

“No problem.”

Tang Chao’s palms begin to sweat slightly, but he maintains the provocative smile on the corners of his lips. “Instructor, if I win, could I be exempted from the remaining training for today?”

Gavin pulls open the map. “We’ll talk about that after you’ve won.”

The holographic sand table simulation is an entirely new course introduced to students in recent years. The maps in the sand table, the personnel’s Evol abilities, the weather and weapons are entirely constructed by the system. Because this is meant to train a students’ adaptive and judgment skills, there’s no such thing as a party gaining an advantage over another through undergoing a similar experience.

Not even after ten minutes after the round begins, Tang Chao’s moves have already garnered him sixty more points than Gavin.

In the lead over Gavin for the first time, his heart finally feels slightly pleased. He can’t help but lift his eyes to cast Gavin a glance. However, the other party doesn’t look frantic at all. Gavin’s line of sight is focused on the sand table in front of him, fingers continuously moving and tapping. The originally three-way defense team is quickly split into nine teams, intercepting and attacking Tang Chao from all directions.

At this moment, students observing from the side burst into an uproar. Having to command nine groups at the same time - is he human?!

Tang Chao is also very shocked. But in the next second, he loses his ability to be shocked. The symbols on the map representing each other’s movements flicker continuously. Gradually, he can no longer keep up with Gavin’s movements - there is too much false information. The moment he calculates that one path can’t be taken, many more paths around him have already been blocked. 

An increasing number of regions struck with red crosses appear on the map. When he finally grabs the hostage, the six teams he originally had have been reduced to a small four-person group by Gavin.

Gavin shuts the holographic sand table. “Any thoughts?”

Tang Chao remains stubborn. “At least I successfully rescued the hostage...”

“You think that’s called a success?” Gavin laughs coldly. “Do you know why the highest marks are awarded based on the number of people left in the simulation? Because every red dot on the map represents the life of a comrade in real life.”

Tang Chao feels as though something is lodged in his throat.

“In an actual operation, the situations you have to face are even more dangerous, and even more complicated than in the sand table.” Gavin looks around at all of the students. “The criminal will not give you as much time and opportunities to make judgement calls. Every wrong decision could result in the death of a comrade.”

His gaze returns to Tang Chao, his tone becoming more severe. “Give it proper thought.”

Tang Chao lowers his head. “Yes.”

“But you were courageous in bringing up the challenge, and it’s worth encouraging.” Gavin curls his forefinger and taps the sand table. “5km, go.”

For the first time, Tang Chao wholeheartedly finishes the 5km run. He pounds his aching and sore legs, preparing to return to the dormitory. Suddenly, he sees his opponent from half an hour ago at a corner not afar off.

Gavin is standing underneath a tree, holding a photograph in his hand.

Gavin doesn’t notice Tang Chao. All of his focus is channelled onto that photograph. In this moment, he seems to have unloaded all his defences, becoming a Gavin different from his usual self. Those perpetually stern eyes have grown dim, bringing with them a twinge of fatigue. 

Tang Chao holds his breath, subconsciously squinting his eyes to identify the photograph. On it seems to be... a female? Could she be Instructor Gavin’s...

But why is there blood on the photograph?

Before he can let his imagination roam, someone suddenly pats him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Tang Chao, have you seen Instructor Gavin?” His roommate asks. “I need to look for him.”

Tang Chao turns slightly, blocking his roommate’s line of sight. He points in another direction. “Oh, I saw him. He walked towards the canteen.”

The lies of a person who can detect lies will never be discovered by someone else. His roommate doesn’t doubt him, and gives him another pat on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

After his roommate walks a distance away, he turns his head once again to look at Gavin, before leaving quietly.

He doesn’t know what that girl in the photograph means to Gavin, but his instincts told him that the tranquil image before him wasn’t one which someone should have disrupted.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

Amid torrential rain, one group continues training on the field of the police academy. The gloomy weather and gloomy atmosphere seem to make the weight on their shoulders much heavier than usual. But this time, no one complains, including Tang Chao.

--Because yesterday, another comrade in the police academy lost his life in a hostage rescue operation.

The pools of water beneath their feet are akin to pools of blood. The wooden piles on their shoulders seem to be alive and breathing, weighing down on them, and leaving them unable to catch their breath. Tang Chao grits his teeth. Even if he’s at the very end of the formation, he doesn’t give up on pressing forward.

“Late by four minutes.” Gavin clutches the watch at the end point as always. “There’s improvement.”

Only Tang Chao knows just how much effort he expended for the few words “there’s improvement”.

In this moment, he vaguely figure things out in his mind. Even though it’s very unclear, there’s a life goal in his heart which is more definite and firm than being “free and easy, and sleeping after a full meal”. Carefree days are definitely good. If he were to cast down the wooden piles and shout “I quit”, he can have them. But as long as he remains in the police academy for one more day, as long as the vow he made upon entering the academy still remains engraved in his heart, his future is destined to have no fate with being free and easy.

Tang Chao releases a muddy breath. He unloads the weight, laying directly on the field. “Instructor Gavin, how did you tell that I had potential back then?”

Gavin is silent for a while. “...actually, that was a lie.”

Tang Chao bursts out laughing.

Perhaps it was indeed a lie from Gavin. But he had followed through with this lie, and enabled Tang Chao to believe this lie too - he had never given up on Tang Chao, and Tang Chao had never given up on himself.

The rain continues pouring down. After laughing, Tang Chao’s voice mixes with the clear water. “Did you know? I suddenly had the ability to detect lies overnight.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything, and Tang Chao continues. “At first, I didn’t even know how to control my Evol. I was so confused, and the people around me were also very alarmed. Because those around me could no longer conceal anything. No matter what kind of masks they wore, I could remove them. Many people were afraid of talking to me. They didn’t even dare to come near to me. That period of time was... pretty depressing. It’s such an incredible ability.”

“Afterwards, I fumbled around and became clearer on how to use this ability. I more or less figured out how to live in such an environment.” Tang Chao points at his head. “The secret is in not caring.”

“It’s not that you really don’t care.” Gavin says.

“That’s right.” Tang Chao smiles wryly. “It’s just that after pretending not to care for such a long time, I’ve become confused too. Instructor Gavin, do you think I can still find the reason for staying here?”

Gavin ponders for a moment before responding. “I can’t imagine how it feels like to be surrounded by lies. But right now, you’re able to walk out from those days, and maintain an independent judgement. It shows that you’re actually much more tenacious than the average person.”

“I don’t think that I’m strong...”

“No one is born strong.”

Tang Chao wipes at the rainwater on his face. “Including yourself?”

“Including myself.” Gavin says solemnly. “I was at a loss before, but afterwards... I found a reason to persevere. I think it’s only a matter of time before you’ll also find a conviction belonging to yourself.”

When Gavin speaks, his intonation doesn’t fluctuate much. It’s as though he’s elaborating on an obvious fact. At this moment, Tang Chao doesn’t use his Evol, because he knows that these are Gavin’s genuine words.

There’s no need to use a lie detector to determine this.

The rain gradually lessens. Tang Chao observes the ash coloured sky for a very long time. His voice is very soft, as though he’s speaking to himself. “I can’t think of any high-sounding reasons. In that case, my goal is to become a person who can live up to this ability.”

Gavin laughs. With neither too much nor too little force, he kicks Tang Chao’s arm with his foot, then blows the assembly whistle in his hand. “All right. Get up and prepare for the next training.”

Tang Chao sits up. “Big Bro, you should at least give me a compliment!”

-

[ Chapter Five ]

Without realising it, the semester is drawing to a close, and Gavin’s task of being an assistant supervisor is ending soon. The class had originally planned to drag Gavin along to a small New Year’s Eve farewell party. In the end, Gavin was sent to participate in a special operation that day, so everyone just brought the farewell party forward, and wish Instructor Gavin a smooth and successful mission.

After the students have left the classroom, Gavin realises that Tang Chao is still standing at the doorway. “Why haven’t you left with the others?”

“I heard this mission is pretty dangerous.” Tang Chao suddenly speaks.

“Every mission is accompanied with danger.” Gavin says.

“Not that kind of danger...” Although Tang Chao isn’t a participant in this mission, he has heard about its contents. “The moment it isn’t handled properly, the dissent between civilians and Evolvers would be aggravated. If the time comes, I’m afraid it wouldn’t end with just a few clashes and bloodshed.”

Although he’s often careless and relaxed, it doesn’t mean that he’s stupid.

“I know.” Gavin nods. “Since you’ve already heard about some of its contents, your class should more or less know about it too - did they ask you to inquire about it?”

“Not really. I wanted to ask you about it myself.” Tang Chao hugs his elbows. “If... and I’m saying ‘if’. If this operation contradicts with the convictions you’ve always persevered in, what would you do?”

“There’s no need for such hypothesis.” Gavin looks at him. “I’ll just use my own eyes to look at it, use my own mind to make a judgement, and not doubt it before the operation even begins. If conviction can be so easily swayed, it means it isn’t yours. Instead, it’s what someone else has forcefully given to you.”

Gavin pauses, glancing at his own palm. Even if its development clashes with my convictions, I’ll use my own methods to handle it.”

When Tang Chao hears this, he’s left dumbfounded. Then, he immediately laughs. “Ah, this answer is truly in line with Instructor Gavin’s style.” He moves over and crinkles his eyes at Gavin. “No wonder the higher-ups purposely trained you to become a leader. With such words, who wouldn’t want to be Instructor Gavin’s subordinate?”

Gavin shakes his head. “I’m not interested in being a leader.”

“Why aren’t you interested in anything? You said you weren’t interested in the competition earlier either...” Tang Chao grins. “It looks to me that the only interest you have is the lady in that photograph, right? When will you introduce Sis-in-law to everyone- ack!”

He receives a blow from Gavin’s elbow.

Tang Chao covers his stomach and pouts, looking aggrieved. “If you don’t want to be a leader, what about being a captain? I heard that after I graduate, the Special Operations Team proposed by the higher-ups will be formed. When the time comes, I reckon there’ll be many interesting and strong comrades joining the team. You can be the boss.”

“Am I the one forming the Special Operations Team? Can I be the captain just because I want to?” Gavin glares at him. “Why not consider whether or not you can join it first.”

“I think if it’s you, I definitely can.” Tang Chao laughs, showing his teeth. “If Captain Gavin can do it, I definitely can do it too.”

A few days later, Gavin sets out. Students from the class send him into the vehicle at the entrance of the academy. Tang Chao gives him a salute and a smile. “Wishing Instructor Gavin an early New Year’s, and wishing you a safe and successful operation.”

Gavin nods, returning a salute to everyone. “I receive your good wishes. Happy New Year. In the future, we’ll definitely meet again.”

Everyone watches as the truck leaves their line of sight. For a very long time, nobody speaks. Finally, with a deep breath, the class leader asks. “Are we continuing with training?”

“Of course we are!”

[alicesimblr]

CHAPTER 3 PART I

beginning / previous / next

Ann was reading her favourite novel when the door rang.

'Nobody lives here,' said Ann.

'I thought i could teach you a thing or two about self-defence' shouted Helena.

Ann's eyes lit up as she heard the offer from her friend who she hadn't seen since the fire incident.

'Password accepted' Ann said as she opened the door with a smile.

'I know you wanted to be alone, but i thought a girl's day would lift your spirits' Helena said, shaking her hand. Although Ann was happy to see her new friend, the embarrassment of the fire situation still gnawed at her insides.

‘A girl's day? Is that what you call teaching me self-defence?' asked Ann, raising her eyebrows.

'Of course! Perhaps you've been taught to be a lady, but I've been taught to be the opposite. Maybe we could exchange knowledge,' said Helena, laughing.

Helena suggested to Ann that they fight in her dress. If she was attacked, she would have to know how to defend herself with any kind of garment. Ann didn't understand why they would attack her though. they never had.

'Any news from our brothers?' asked Ann as they moved around the room without starting a fight.

'Yes. They closed the deal last night, they'll come back first thing tomorrow morning' replied Helena, tapping Ann lightly on the shoulder.

'Last night? What kind of deal closes at nightfall?' insisted Ann.

'The kind of deal my brothers close. And now yours too.' she replied, landing a second blow that Ann couldn't stop either.

'Wouldn't that be illegal? The last thing i'd want to do is endanger my bro...' Ann began to say, before being interrupted by Helena so they could practice a specific move.

'Don't worry, Ann. My brothers and i would never put Christopher in danger. Nor you. You are part of the family' she replied at last.

'Yeah... I don't think Jonathan feels the same way' said Ann, just before she tried to kick Helena.

'Jonathan is somewhat withdrawn, he doesn't like meeting new people. But that doesn't mean he dislikes you' said Helena once she had pinned Ann to the ground.

'How long have you been training?' asked Ann, getting up from the floor.

'Since I was born. I knew how to fight before I could talk' replied Helena, laughing again.

'I've never met anyone like you' said Ann with a chuckle.

'Anyone, or a woman?' asked Helena 'Well, in my family we're very unconventional. Ahead of our time, Jonathan would say. He's very modest'

'Tell me, what does your father thinks about you not being married yet?' asked Ann, still panting from the fight.

'My father has no opinion. He never has and he never will' replied Helena curtly.

'Jonathan!' shouted Helena after hearing the door bang.

'Jonathan? Wasn't he closing a...' Ann groaned. The last thing she wanted was to see Jonathan, for it was him she had been avoiding since the incident. Although the thought had only been in her head for a millisecond, Ann thought that maybe Jonathan had manipulated her mind to see a fire that never happened.

'No, he stayed in the manor' shouted Helena as she opened the door for her brother.

'I thought I wouldn't see you until Monday' said Helena.

'You thought wrong, as usual' replied Jonathan. He looked angry, as usual.

'What's that on your arm, brother?' asked Helena, raising her eyebrows.

As Ann walked through the door, Jonathan turned to her and held out the book without saying anything.

‘For me?' asked Ann, realising instantly that the question was unnecessary 'Thank you very much! Is it a book you have read' she asked.

'Helena told me you liked romance books' he said, and was silent for a few seconds. 'I don't.'

Helena persuaded Ann to accompany them to a bookshop that had opened a few days ago.

'The library is Jonathan's gift to the city' said Helena, smiling.

'Not exactly. The idea came from a friend who likes to read even more than i do' he replied almost in a whisper.

'How is it possible to surpass someone who has read more than 1,000 books at the age of 20?' asked Ann, who had to pick up the pace to catch up with the tall Cannadine brothers.

'Well... being 25′ replied Jonathan.

'Wow... how come i haven't seen this place before?' asked Ann in amazement at the sight of such a huge building.

'I don't think it's the sort of place a bourgeois lady goes to spend her evenings' said Jonathan, biting his lip to keep from laughing. The bookshop was in the poorest part of town, which made its size and beauty all the more strange to Ann.

‘Nor does it seem to be that of an Earl who owns half the manors of the United Kingdom' she replied, stepping forward in his footsteps.

‘Looks like we've lost my brother... tell me, which section do you want to snoop in?' asked Helena. Jonathan practically ran out as soon as they entered the bookshop, almost as if he had been waiting for that moment to run away from the situation.

‘Crimes. If Jonathan thinks I'm just into romance...' said Ann, laughing.

Helena held out a book to Ann with a black cover and a small signature on the bottom of it.

'What do you think?' asked Helena a few minutes later while still looking for a book for herself.

'Who wrote these stories?' asked Ann, confused. Helena approached her. 'According to the writer, they are all true. But how can the write be in so many different places?' insisted Ann. The stories told of brutal murders that would not have been punished but for the brave writer.

'A wizard never reveals his secrets' replied Helena, turning away again.

'Did you write it?' asked Ann.

'Are you mad? My thing is fighting, not writing.' replied Helena.

After a few hours of reading, Jonathan gave his sister a sidelong glance to start to leave and put the books away.

‘Why do we have to walk here?' asked Ann. It had only been a scant 15 minutes from her house to the bookshop, but the manor was on the outskirts, too far from everything to walk.

‘We have given up all our carriages temporarily,' Helena replied, biting her lower lip.

Once Ann began to glimpse the manor from afar, she noticed the many carriages lying parked at the entrance.

'What's going on?' she asked at the sight. But she got no answer. 'Helena?' she insisted.

'Don't worry, Annastasia. It's just a formality,' she replied, not looking her straight in the face.

'Believe me, Annastasia, no one dislikes this more than I do' said Jonathan, sighing.

At that moment, Ann had no idea what could be waiting for her in there.

As soon as the front door of the manor opened, a bunch of faces unknown to Ann peered in with wide eyes and began to talk incessantly.

'Dear Annastasia, it's a pleasure to finally see you in person!' shouted one of them.

'Yes... I... 'Thank you' replied Ann, not quite sure who to turn to or where to look.

'Please ladies and gentlemen, make room, we don't want the poor girl to be crowded.' said Helena, taking Ann by the hand and leading her down the corridor.

'Darling. I didn't think i'd live to see something like that' repeated one of the guests for the third time.

'I assure you i didn't think so either' replied Helena as she realised that she would not stop repeating that phrase if no one answered her.

'Even if it was your idea?' asked Jonathan, smiling half-heartedly.

'Your idea?' asked Ann, almost choking on her food.

'I only suggested it. I didn't force anyone' replied Helena, throwing up her hands.

'You certainly make a lovely couple, it's about time the boy settled down.' said one of Helena and Jonathan's aunts. Ann couldn't help but wonder where their parents were and why they hadn't visited them since they moved to Southampton.

'I don't see why anyone should ever settle down. Marriage is just a piece of paper' said Jonathan, annoyed.

'Jonathan! Why don't you eat and be quiet for the rest of the lunch?' said Helena, giving a murderous look at her brother, who had begun to smile as he realised how much it annoyed his older sister. Ann couldn't help but smile too, it reminded her so much of the relationship she and her brother had, although Christopher was undoubtedly much more affectionate.

When dinner was over, Helena escorted the guests to another of the many rooms that were only on the first floor of the manor. As soon as Helena and Jonathan began chatting with distant relatives, two women approached Ann, looking down their noses at her with meanness. They just wanted to laugh at her, no one in that family understood why Jonathan would want to agree to such a wedding.

‘I didn't think Jonathan would like them so thin,' said one of them smiling.

'Nor so pale. You look a bit sick, are you all right?' asked the other, trying to feign distress as she put her hand to her heart.

'Excuse me, ladies' cried Helena, throat clearing as she saved Ann from the horrible situation. 'I need to speak to the future Countess Annastasia' said Helena, causing the two women to turn away without another word.

'You're my guardian angel, aren't you?' asked Ann, smiling again.

A few seconds later, Jonathan was crossing the wide room straight to Ann with a hint of amusement and annoyance in his eyes.

'Annastasia Winsdor, will you marry me?' he asked, getting down on one knee.

'How hard would it have been to tell me earlier about today's plan?' asked Ann. Cordelia had taught her to answer with questions when she got too nervous and didn't know how to make decisions. But this decision had already been made for weeks, she couldn't back out.

'Is that a yes, or a no?' insisted Jonathan, who had already stood up and was holding the ring almost as if he wanted to throw it away.

'A yes... I guess.' replied Ann at last.

[jojolu]

Six Months in Boston

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Erin Rose

Summary: Up and coming YA author Erin Rose, was sent to a small suburb 30 minutes Northwest of Boston to finish the last two books of her series, she is about to get very close to her very handsome new neighbor.

a/n: here goes nothing!

chapter 1: Enjoy Nature

"Oh my God! Just poop already Letty!" You shout at your Chihuahua Dachshund mix breed dog. She finally does and you pick it up and tie the bag.

You are walking on a new path the realtor showed you on a map. Your phone rings and it's your   sister Tilly FaceTime'ing you.

"Hey girl......where the fuck are you? Are you exercising?"

"Ugh gross! Never. Just exploring, Mike the realtor was saying there are 30 beautiful walking paths all around! Enjoy nature....that fucking tool."

"Where exactly are you? In case I need to come and find your body in the woods."

"In a small suburb, its technically the country! I'm thirty minutes northwest of Boston. My editor sent me to Boston. MASSACHUSETTS!! LIKE WHO AUTHORIZED THIS. For a year Till! I'm a hard core West coast kid! Born and raised near the ghetto."

"Pasadena, is nowhere near the ghetto. Its your fault, your way to good of a writer. Your first book shouldn't have been so good. Like bitch, you already have studios fighting for the movie rights."

You wrote, The Wish Masters, your senior year in Grad school on a whim. Your professor wanted you all to write 1 chapter of a book and you wrote 15, when you turned it, she called you into her office the following Monday. 6 years later on your 35th birthday it was released.

It bit of Harry Potter mixed in with Tinkerbell. All the Fairy families are separated by the type of groups and your story starts when the age of fairies start to die off. Deenah and her friends Mave and Trax are off on a journey to fix and restore the age of Fairies. 

"Yeah, yeah. Oh no there a dog loose." You see a brown and white dog with a red collar and leash dragging behind him.

"Let me see!" Tilly says.

You flip the camera and stick your phone in your sportsbra.

 You call him over and read his tag.

"Hey Dodger, gosh are a pretty dog. Letty, this is Dodger, Dodger, this wild animal is Letty girl."

You pick up his leash and continue walking the way Dodger came from.

"You fucking weirdo. That dog looks familiar. What's his name?"

"Familiar? Are you an Instagram dog, D man?" You say leaning closer to Dodger.

"Holy fucking shit! That's Chris Evans dog. I bet my fucking life on it."

"Seriously? Please God, don't let this be his dog. I'm not ready!"

You hear a man's voice calling out Dodger's name.

"Oh no......"

The person you see, isn't Chris Evans but his younger brother, Scott.

"That's Scott his brother!" Tilly says.

"I know.....Shhhh."

"Dodger! Hey man, you scared us." Scott says walking up to you.

"He just walked up to us." You say handing him the leash.

"Thank you! Chris would have KILLED me! I got him." He says as he yells back to the sound of a person walking up behind you.

You look past him and see Chris Evans. 

Your mind goes blank.

"Hi I'm Tilly!" You sister says from your boobs.

"Hi, mystery voice coming from this nice lady's boobs. " Scott says.

"OH my God! It's my sister." You take your phone out of your sportsbra and turn it so he can see her.

She waves like a crazy person.

"Hi, Tilly. I'm Scott."

"Hi! This is my sister Erin Rose."

"I totally forgot to introduce myself."

"She's a writer she wrote The Wish Masters, Jimmy Fallon just had her on last week. She just sent the second and half of the third one to her editor, She there to write two more books, she'll be there a year and she lives at 347 Mills Rd and that's her dog Letty, we found her on a trip to Joshua Tree, four years ago."

"Stop talking or I'm going to hang up and block you." You say to the phone.

"Sorry....."

"Well, this is my brother Chris Evans, he is an actor, you know him from Not Another Teen Movie and Cellular. He's has lived here for about three years and he lives at 345 Mills Rd and that's his dog Dodger, who he got a shelter about three years ago."

You look at Chris who is shaking his head.

You mouth, "I'm so sorry."

He mouth,"No, I'm sorry."

You both smile at each other. You look away to where Dodger and Letty are laying down, Letty is laying on Dodger's legs licking him.

"Well, it looks like you two are neighbors." Scott says to you both.

"Right! That's awesome, she's very single." Tilly says as she hangs up.

"Oooh she's not getting invited to any of the movie premieres. I'm going go home. Come on Letty." You say pulling her leash. 

She doesn't budge.

"To bad you only weigh eleven pounds." You say picking her up.

You turn to your left and then to your right.

Fuck!  

Erin why are you so dumb! 

You have no clue which direction your house is.

"Left." Chris says.

"Thank you." You say turning back left and walking away holding a dog that doesn't want to leave.

"She left her water bottle." Scott says.

"I'll take it to her later." Chris says picking it up.

"She's gorgeous......did you see her ass......damn." Scott says.

Chris just looks at him as he starts to walk away, Dodger turns and tries to follow the direction you left in.

"I did, and that's all I'm going to say."

"You going to save that image for your spank bank?"

"Spank bank? Seriously?"

"Sorry, I watched 10 Things I Hate About You last night. Great film. I know how long it's been, so don't act like you haven't already ready pictured her under you or on her knees."

"For fucks sake, Scott!? I just met her, technically we haven't really even met." Chris says walking away.

Scott laughs as he walks behind Chris.

"Fuck you, Scott! Now that's all I'm thinking about!" He yells as he starts to run.

You make it back in 10 minutes.

You were talking out loud the whole time.

"Really! Is this really fucking happening! Chris fucking Evans! Is this because I read that Chris Evans fanfic? Listen! I'm sorry! Well I'm not really! That's story was cute and he sounds great in bed. Speaking of bed! Am I supposed to act like I didn't see his dick?  What a beautiful penis.....oh my God. We share a driveway....his house is what like sixty fucking feet from my house.......great now all I can think of his is dick! Did I save that on my phone?"

You were walking so fast and distracted you just realized you left your water bottle. You set it down when you picked up Dodger's leash.

"Dammit, I love that water bottle, let's go inside." You say to the dog that is sniffing all around Chris's side of the driveway.

You walk inside and Letty goes and gets in her kennel and gets under her blanket.

You take off your shoes and head to take a shower. Tilly calls right after you walk out of the shower.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, I just spent the last 20 minutes Google'ing him. He's very much single. He loves to take Dodger out on walks, he's covered in tattoos, he enjoys working with his hands, he loves his family, is an ass man and he has a huge penis."

"I don't care. I'm not going to do anything with information. I'm here for one reason, to write these books. This is not a story someone is writing. I'm not going to fall in love with him, he isn't going to take me on long walks where we can't keep our hands off each other, our dogs aren't going to be best friends and constantly have to see each other, you and Scott aren't going to be best friend and have matching toasts at our beautiful Farmhouse wedding." You suddenly get choked up.

"Ohhhh Erin...I'm sorry. I just got excited." She says suddenly with emotion in her voice.

"Serves you right! Who said those acting classes wouldn't help me write better." 

"You bitch! Just so you know he has a wide tongue, too." She hangs up.

Ugh, you just used the massage setting on your handheld shower head. Living next to him was going to kill you.

You get dressed, in a tank top dress that has a built-in bra and head out your pool. You hear laughing coming from your neighbor's house and fight the urge to look over.

"Erin!" You hear Chris yell.

"Please, have a shirt on...." You say before turning around.

"Hey, Chris."

Fuck him. 

No, seriously.

Fuck this sexy ass bastard.

He of course, is in just black swim trunks walking closer to his the fence. There are all the tattoos Tilly said he had, she didn't mention the chest hair.....you just want you rub your hands all over his body.

This is the closet your houses are to each other.

"Did you get that?" Chris asks looking at you.

"Shit, sorry thinking about my...book." You stumbled out.

"I have your water bottle and I was thinking that I could say thank you for grabbing Dodger, by ordering us some lunch?"

"It was no hassle, he just walked right up to me. Sure, yes that would be great."

"You want to come over now? You can come swim with me....if you want. Can you....." He stops himself.

"Were you about to ask me, a black woman, if I can swim?" You say giving him tons of attitude.

He goes beet red.

"Uh no...I was just...you have your hair straight....so I....."

You start to laugh at him.

"I thought Mackie would have told you what not to ask a black woman, it's a weave, I'm taking out next week and getting braids. Yes, I can swim, I was actually a lifeguard all throughout high-school and college. I'll change and grab Letty."

You see the relief in his face.

Did you just fluster Chris Evans.....

You are thankful for your sister, she made you buy all new swimsuits with your cash advance money. You put on your Victoria's Secret ruffle bottom bikini, you got it in three colors, white, pink and green. 

You put on the white one. Put your black sheer cover up.

You put your hair up in a messy bun and grabbed Letty.

"Listen, woman! You better act right! Do not pee on his floor!" You say to the dog who is very confused why she is getting a lecture. 

You put her down and grab the gift basket you just got from Sam Adam's and the freezer box it came in. He isn't in the back yard any more so you walk to his front door and ring the door bell.

"Brace yourself Erin...." You mumble out.

You can hear Dodger barking and Chris telling him to calm down.

He opens the door and smiles at you.

"Welcome, here let me take that. Come in."

Thankfully he put a shirt on.

You follow him to his kitchen while looking in all of his rooms.

"Our houses are the exact same. Even down to the floors. Literally the exact same. You need to see it."

"I'd like that."

You both pause for a second.

Letty and Dodger playing is what broke the tension.

"Its Letty, right? From The Fast and The Furious." 

"It is. Strangely, not many people get that."

"And Dodger, from Oliver and Company?"

"Yes, exactly. Most people think the baseball team."

"Why you have the Sox over here."

"Exactly. You want to head outside?"

"Lead the way." 

He grabs the gift basket and walks towards his backyard.

"Did you buy this?"

"Nope, I mentioned them in an interview and I got this, just yesterday."

"Not going lie that probably my favorite thing about this whole crazy life."

"Same, dude! I swear, someone asked what pen I used and I said Paper-Mate and I had a special delivery the next day. I'm really looking forward to when these studios choose my book."

"Which studios?" He asks opening your gift basket.

"You're just gonna open MY gift basket?"

"I thought this was for me?" He says laughing.

"Why would I give you MY gift basket? I don't know you like that!" You say laughing too.

"Go ahead you already opened it. Paramount, Warner Brothers, Universal and Disney! I'm really excited about that one. They are thinking of my books as movies will start a new segment of Disney aimed at teenagers!" You practically shout.

"That's amazing and my heart is with Disney."

"Holy shit, I haven't told anyone that and wasn't supposed to........I figure you can keep a secret, Cap."

"You going to make me sign an NDA?" He says waaaaay to flirty. 

He opens one of the beers and takes a long drink.

 He licks his bottom lip.

"I could get one drafted up, if I need to. Can I have I one of MY beers, please?"

"Fine, but I get this hat." He says pulling a blue Sam Adam's hat out.

He hands you a beer and your hands touch. He doesn't let go, he grabs his bottle opener and opens for you.

"Thanks. Stop taking my stuff Christopher!"

"You don't want this hat or.....this beer coozie or.........these beer pretzels." He says taking all the things he mentioned.

"Give me those fucking pretzels."You say reaching for them.

"Come on, you don't want these." He opens the bag and takes a handful.

"Ohh you are not nice." You say standing up you take off your swim cover and walk up to him. Your breast are touching his chest and every time you inhale he looks down at your chest.

"Can I help you?" He says looking down at you.

"Chris, can I please, pretty please have those pretzels, I need something hard..and..salty in my mouth."You say with your hands on his chest.

He hands them to you without another word.

"Thanks, dude." You say grabbing them and sitting back down on his pool chaise.

"That was so mean! I'm still keeping this hat and coozie." He says looking over at you.

"Sure, but I'm keeping the corn hole set."

"You sure? I can take it off your hands."

You hear Letty barking at the backdoor.

Chris goes and let's them both put, they are chasing each other in circles, they finally sit he keeps messing with her and she keeps biting him then running away.

"Looks, like they found their best friend." Chris says.

"Yep. She's such an alpha. I'm surprised she letting him be so aggressive with her."

"Well, he definitely likes the challenge of a strong woman."

"She definitely likes the attention."

"He really likes to give it."

You weren't sure at what point you both stopped talking about the dogs but you needed to get in the pool to cool off.

"So we doing this or nah?"

"Huh?" The confusion on his face was priceless.

"Swimming? Or did you just asked me to get in a bikini for nothing."

He pulls off his shirt, finished his beer and walks to the pool, turns to face you, winks and does a perfect back flip.

"Oh you fancy." You get up and walk up to about 3 feet to his pool turn towards him do a cart wheel, that goes into a round off, which has you end right at the edge of his pool, then you do a backflip into the water.

"I give that a fucking ten." He says swimming up to you.

"Thank you. I'll give yours a 9.5 you lost a half point for trying to flirt with the judge."

"I should be given a whole extra point for that."

You splash him and swim away.

"Oooh now you started it." He dives down and pulls you under the water.

You poke him in the ribs and he let's go.

"Ouch!"

You swim up close to him.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to...."

He pulls you under again.

You pull him down too and start to have a contest to see who can stay under water longer. It's been 30 seconds and he is struggling. He groans and swims up.

He watches you as you flip into a handstand underwater and walk away from him, you come up 20 seconds later.

"Damn...."

"Sorry, lifeguard!"

"I normally have much better breath control." He says swimming closer to you.

"Oh really? You practice that?" You say smirking.

"Haven't needed to, come here." 

You get closer and he reaches right under your eye takes the eyelash that had fallen.

"Make a wish." He says holding it up to your mouth.

You close your eyes and blow.

You open your eyes slowly and he is staring at you.

You throw caution to the wind and put your arms around his neck and he immediately put his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him. He walks to the shallow end of his pool and puts you against the side of it.

"I'm fighting every urge to kiss you." He says.

"Same. You have no idea how much I want to."

"Then why aren't we kissing?" He says nuzzling and nipping your jaw.

"Because we both know it not going to just be kissing."

"Kiss me and find out." He says kissing your cheek and right under your ear.

"Why don't you kiss me?" You say running your nails down his back.

"I am kissing you." He moves down to your neck.

You turn your head so he'll kiss that spot under your jaw. He does and you practically moan out his name.

"Fuck, you sound so good moaning out my name."

"Kiss me." You moan out as he kisses that spot again. 

"Where?" He runs his tongue against that spot and gently bites you.

You finally turn your head and kiss him. He somehow pulled you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair as he slides his tongue inside your mouth. You pull away a bit and just look at him.

"What? We can stop."

"Nothing, I'm just taking you in. You're really good looking. I did not think this was going to happen." You say giggling.

"You're sweet. You're so gorgeous. You didn't? That bikini doesn’t agree." He says putting his hand on your ass.

You just laugh.

"Apparently, the internet is true, 'Chris Evans, an ass man'."

"With an ass like this, most definitely." He says putting his other hand on your ass.

"You are a whole mess. But to answer your question, I had maybe hoped that I could make out with my super hot neighbor, maybe just once."

"I knew it. Well that same internet calls you 'The writer who is taking YA by storm' I also saw your photoshoot in Vanity Fair, that's why I hoped you were going to wear a bikini, but this....."He runs his thumb along the edge of your bikini bottoms. "This is better than I could imagined."

He kisses you again and you wrap your legs around his waist and you can finally feel his amazing dick against your pussy.

"Damn, I can feel how warm your pussy is, I can't wait to taste you." He says in your ear.

"You look like this and can talk dirty."

"That's nothing......."

You bring his mouth back to yours and bite his bottom lip.

He reaches up and unties your bikini top, then kisses his way down to your nipple and slowly sucks it into his mouth, between his hot mouth and the chill of the water your close to an orgasm.

"Oh my goodness. You are the absolute worst."

He moves to your left breast, while his hand slowly making its way to your pussy.

The backdoor opens....

"Chris, I called you like 8 fucking times...............well hello Erin." Scott says.

"Oh my God, Scott!" You yell.

Chris just holds you close to give you some sort of cover.

"I obviously don't have my phone on me."

"I can see your hands are very full." He says looking straight into the water.

Chris tries to re-tie your top.

"Walk her to me." Scott says squatting down.

He ties the your top for you and get off of Chris.

"Well, this is not embarrassing at all!" You say swimming away.

"I'm fine." Scott says taking off his sandals and shirt and getting in the pool.

"That was the beginning and not the ending of that, right?"

"Ask him." You say laughing.

"You good over?" Scott asks him, when you both realize that he hadn't moved.

"Yep." He quickly turn and swims straight for you. 

You scream and try to swim away. 

He grabs you around the waist and puts you over his shoulder, then stand up so your ass is in his face and he turns and bites your left ass cheek. Then takes you back under the water. You bite him on his back and he let's you go.

You swim away and hide behind Scott.

"Nope, don't bring that shit over here." 

"You heard him. Go away Chris."

"Come here, Erin." 

He says as he lunges towards you.

You were quicker and got out of the pool.

He watches you walk away.

"Erin, can I have fries with that shake?" 

"You better behave."

"This is me behaving."

"You want a beer, Scott?" 

"Always." You open it and had it to him.

"Do I get one?" 

"Are you going to behave?"

"Probably, not."

You open his and walk it over to him.

You finally get yours.

"Watch this."

You put your beer bottle on the edge of the pool, stand to the left of it.

You do a cart wheel right over the bottle but stay on your hands and pick it up with your teeth and suck it in a little, then do a front to back slit then push off your hands and gracefully flip into the water. You come up with the beer bottle still in your mouth.

"Holy shit. That's awesome." Scott says.

Chris is just leaning against the side of the pool staring at you.

You swim up to him

"You didn't like it?"  You ask feeling a bit insecure.

He grabs your hand and walks you out of the pool and straight towards his back door.

"We'll be right back. Go ahead order whatever for lunch." He says to Scott as you follow him inside.

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 20

A/N: Thanks for the love in the last chapter! I didn’t realize how many of you were still reading! It was nice to hear from you!

[Click Here For Previous Chapters]

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CHAPTER TWENTY:

The sun had been brightly shining on her face for hours now, but she managed to avoid it, too tired to wake yet. It was a little after noon. They had to leave in a few hours to go back home. Elizabeth couldn’t be too sure when the last person had gone home after the party, because she had slipped away at 3 AM to go to bed in a guest room. It felt weird going to Harry’s room to sleep, and if she was being honest, she was still a little bothered about his ex-girlfriend being there. She didn’t want to argue with him, after all, he did spend the rest of the night practically showing Elizabeth off to all of his friends, but she did see him saying goodbye to Camille before she left and couldn’t help but doubt herself when she saw his arms tighten around her and thought she saw a bit of sadness watching her leave. He said he was over her, but was he? Or was she just overreacting? Either way, she felt like she needed distance after that to avoid saying things she didn’t mean, so she just went to a guest room to sleep.

She heard the door creak open, the patter of footsteps, a couple clinks on the bedside table, and the bed depress behind her, arms snaking their way around her waist, pulling her in tight. The familiar subtly spicy scent lingered in the air as a smile flicked onto Elizabeth’s face. She couldn’t stay mad at Harry for long, not when his touch was so gentle and sweet. She let herself sink into him for a moment before turning to face him, fluttering her eyes open to be met inches from his emerald green ones, noticing speckles of yellow in them. His eyes twinkled at her.

“What are you doing in here?” Harry whispered, kissing her nose.

Suddenly she felt silly for being insecure. She yawned, “I don’t know. Must have had too much to drink. When did you go to bed?”

“The last person left at 4,” he said, sitting up and reaching over to the side table. “I made you some food.”

He held a plate with eggs, sausage, and fruit, and a cup of coffee in front of her, knowing she’d want breakfast even though it was lunch time. She smiled and sat up, grabbing it. It was weird how quickly the two of them became so deeply invested in each other. Surely them knowing each other since childhood played a part in it, but they had been separated for so long, that couldn’t be the only reason for it. They’ve always had a pull towards each other, some kind of force wanting them to be together. Maybe it was destiny? Elizabeth wasn’t too sure if she believed in that kind of stuff, but there was no other way to explain it. At least, none that she could think of. Maybe she was just really horny. Maybe Harry was just really lonely. Who knows?

After they ate, she took a shower and decided not to wear makeup today as she had to fly for over ten hours and she just wanted to be as comfortable as she could. Somehow, Elizabeth managed to not pack enough shirts. Usually she was over-prepared when it came to packing, but because this was a last minute decision to come here, she must have miscalculated the amount of time she'd be there. She shuffled through Harry’s dresser, grabbing a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face on it, slipping it on before heading downstairs with her luggage.

Harry smiled when he saw her, putting his weight on one foot and crossing his arms, “Is that shirt mine?”

She looked down at herself, grinning back up at him, “Sorry. I didn’t have any more tops. I’ll give it back later.”

He shook his head, pulling her closer to him, “Don’t. It looks better on you.”

A driver came to take them to the airport and it took nearly an hour for bags to be loaded, everyone to get situated, and in the air. Everyone was pretty rowdy as it was nearly 5 PM, but it was a ten and a half hour flight, so it eventually died down. They’d be arriving in London a little before noon on Saturday because of the time difference. Half of the people on the plane had fallen asleep and the other half were either scrolling through their phones or chatting. Harry had an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder as she rested her head on his chest, talking with Mitch, Sarah, and Jeffrey about plans for the next couple weeks.

“I have the studio booked for you all day Sunday, and then on Monday you have your first meeting with your Gucci stylist for an outfit to wear to the LA fashion show in two weeks,” Jeffrey said.

Harry nodded, “What time are we getting to the studio on Sunday? I really wanna knock out at least two songs. Completed.”

“Maybe we can get there around 9?” Mitch suggested, looking around at everyone who nodded in agreement. “I think we can definitely knock out at least two songs, if not three. They’re practically finished, we just need backing vocals and a couple different chord changes.”

“Have you heard any of the songs yet, Lizzy?” Sarah asked.

Elizabeth shook her head, relaxed as Harry stroked her hair, “Only Cringe. He hasn’t let me listen to anything else. He keeps changing the subject.”

Everyone looked at Harry, slightly amused. Mitch said, “Not even one? You should let her come and listen. What, were you gonna wait for her to hear them once they were released?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Harry shrugged, looking down at her, “You said you were going to be in London with Kate, Lewis, and Matt this weekend, right?” she nodded and he continued, “Maybe we can all grab some lunch together and then head back to the studio?”

Elizabeth nodded, “Yeah, we have no official plans so I’m sure they’d be down for that.”

“Perfect,” Harry looked up at his band mates, “We can play them that one song…”

Elizabeth furrowed her eyes in confusion, but the subject had changed and she decided to let it go, eventually falling asleep. Hours had passed when she felt herself being shaken away. This time, by Jeffrey. She sat up, seeing the plane descending as he woke everyone else up. There were groans echoing in the plane, gathering up last minute items.

Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched, falling into Elizabeth and resting his head by her stomach while wrapping his arms around her waist. She laughed, fluffing his hair. 

“Am I taking you home?” He yawned.

“No, Matt’s picking me up, remember? I just have to grab a few things from my place before we head over to Kate’s.”

He sat up and frowned, “I forgot. I don’t want you to leave yet.”

Elizabeth chuckled, “We’ve been together for 2 weeks straight. Are you not bored of me yet?”

“Not even a little.”

The plane had landed and everyone piled out. Everyone’s cars were pulled up and parked, waiting for them, and Elizabeth could see Matt stepping out of his car wearing a chauffeur suite with a huge grin on his face. She excitedly weaved through everyone, jumping into his arms and laughing.

“You big idiot!” She squeezed him.

“What, and come pick you up from a private jet in peasant clothes? What do you take me for?” He joked, turning his attention to Harry who was walking up to them. They clasped hands and smacked each other on the bag in a friendly hug, saying their hello’s.

“I mentioned to Lizzy that I’ll be in the studio tomorrow not far from you guys if you wanted to grab some lunch and come back with me, I was kinda hoping you all could listen to a song we wrote for my next album,” Harry asked him.

“Yeah, man, that sounds cool. I’ll let the other’s know,” Matt nodded, turning to Lizzy, “You ready to go? I’ll go grab your bags.”

Elizabeth smiled as he headed towards the pile of bags that were being taken off of the plane. She turned to look at Harry whose lips were turned down in a frown again and she laughed, standing on her toes to give him a hug. He squeezed her tighter and nestled his head into her hair, swaying her slightly.

“Thanks for everything,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he choked up, covering it with a little chuckle, standing up. She could see his eyes looked glassy, “You say it like I won’t see you again.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “It’s one night! I’m going to see you tomorrow!”

“I know. But I got used to being with you.”

Matt returned with the bags, throwing them in the trunk and getting in the car, waiting patiently. She turned back to Harry with an empathetic frown, placing her hands on his cheek and pressing her lips to his. This time, it felt different. The kiss felt more deep and loving than it ever had. She fed into it, letting herself be carried away in the moment before snapping back to reality. When she pulled away he looked into her eyes for a moment and her heart started racing, understanding. She knew it at that moment. The hurt she felt from having to leave, the yearning for more of his touch. The unwavering feeling of comfort by just a look from him. The ache she felt seeing him even remotely upset, even if it was over something so silly. She loved him.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, stepping back. This is a pretty shitty time to come to this realization, a little scared at how fast it hit her. She gave him one more smile before stepping into the passenger seat, waving goodbye to Harry and everyone else as they drove away.

“Things look like they’re going alright with you and Harry, yeah?” Matt said, “Did you guys make it official yet?”

“Not yet,” Elizabeth swallowed, turning up the stereo to his car.

The great thing about having been friends with Matt for over twelve years was that he knew her completely. When she was happy, when she was upset, when she was angry, and when she needed a distraction. So instead of carrying on the conversation, he did what he does best: make her laugh. He blasted the raunchiest songs he had on his playlist and they screamed the lyrics at the top of their lungs, rocking the car as they danced. Stopping at her home was a ten minute ordeal, throwing her luggage in her room and transferring her makeup to a smaller duffel bag with new, clean clothes before going right back in Matt’s car.

They decided to stop and grab some carryout chinese food for everyone on the way to Lewis and Kate’s house, letting themselves right in the door and tossing it on the table before tackling her friends who were spread across the couch. Kate and Elizabeth screeched in excitement, squeezing each other tightly and laughing.

“How was your honeymoon?” Elizabeth finally sat up, giving a quick hug to Lewis as Matt unloaded the food.

“Oh my god, so dreamy! I’m a little sad to be back!” Kate swooned, thanking Matt for her food. “How was LA? I need all the details.”

“It was good, but you first! I wanna know everything.”

Kate and Lewis gushed about their week-long adventure in Cancun, swimming, relaxing, and exploring. It amazed her how much Kate and Lewis seemed genuinely in love, even after twelve years of growing up with each other. A true inspiration. 

Elizabeth nearly avoided having to talk about her trip, until Kate remembered. When she mentioned all the things that had happened, she started out vague at first. But towards the end, she wound up spilling her soul out to her friends; telling them about the interviews, about how many times they had sex and how great it was, about her feelings, about how she thought she loved him. They listened, uninterrupting. They let her spill everything that’s been on her chest the past two weeks that she was too afraid to say to Harry. She didn’t realize how much emotion she had pent up until she felt her chest get heavy and her eyes start to well up with tears. Her three friends surrounded her, smothering her in hugs.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Matt was the first to speak, surprising them with how serious he was being. “Listen, after all the shit you went through the last time he left and the bullshit with Kyle, I don’t blame you for being scared. But, Lizzy, he’s not Kyle. I know I talked all this shit two weeks ago about being careful, but he seems ready for this.”

Kate nodded in agreement, “You should give him a chance.”

“I know. And he’s been really patient with me while I try to figure everything out. But it’s not just as simple as ‘I’ll be your girlfriend now’, you know? There’s the press, the fans, the effect on his image. It’s a lot involved.”

“And you should have that conversation with him,” Lewis said. “It doesn’t have to be right this second. But when you have the opportunity where you two can really sit down face-to-face and have a conversation privately, you should tell him how you feel. You should allow yourself to be vulnerable.”

“Yeah, and at least this way you can continue to babystep your relationship. If it starts out more privately it gives you more time to adjust to this new kind of world before the press finds out. I mean obviously there are already people who are assuming you’re dating, but it seems like for the most part people truly believe you’re just old friends,” Kate said.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, thanking her friends for their words of advice and encouragement. She heard her phone alert her of a text and she grabbed it, seeing it was a message from Harry. She opened it with a slight smile, but as she read, that smile started to disappear.

‘I’m so sorry Lizzy.’

Her eyes furrowed in confusion as she clicked the link that was attached to his text and her throat swelled, palms sweaty as she read the title ‘Just Friends? Harry Styles Caught Kissing An Old School ‘Friend’.’ The picture immediately below was a shot from when they landed back in London as they were saying goodbye to each other. Elizabeth’s hands were on his cheeks and he had her in a tight hug, leaning over her slightly so that she was slightly bent back. Her cheeks flushed as she read the article that had tons of remarks about how Harry had been denying their involvement all week and how they definitely seem to be closer than he’s said, and things like ‘We didn’t know friends kissed like that’. How the hell would he explain that one away?

KEEP READING

[theastrophilearchitect]

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 20 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 19: Hawks’ Visit

AO3 Link

Previous Chapters: 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

–––––––––––

“You...again?” Geten eyed the winged hero as he sauntered in, bearing a basket of fruits with a hovering feather. He was the first – and hopefully the last, unless it was the man who landed her in this bed – visitor on this Monday afternoon. 

“I just came to check on you. I hope you’re not a carnivore.” With a cordial smile, he placed the gift on the bedside table. 

“Don’t you have...hero duties to attend to? To keep up appearances?” The shiny surfaces of the apples glinted at her. She found their presence less a gift of generosity and more a peace offering. After all, their last conversation hadn’t ended on good terms. Her wariness of this hero-turned-villain lingered.

“Oh, I’ve done them. Not to brag, but I’m pretty fast. Efficient too.” Hawks sheathed his wings and took a seat on the chair facing her. 

“Were you sent by Shigaraki?” 

“Nope, came here on my own. I can’t say I like taking orders from the big guy. I prefer to spread my wings and be free, y’know?” 

Free. The word rang differently in Geten’s head now, after regurgitating up the words and lies she was fed by the Liberation Army, and she found them bitter. Disgusting. It made her want to retch. The man in front of her sounded genuine in that sense, in desiring liberation. It sounded entrancing, but she remembered their last encounter where that same smile threatened her position and life. 

“The last time we talked…” Geten measured her words. “You said to find you when I’ve figured which side I’m on. And you’ve come to find me. Tell me, what does this gesture of yours mean?” 

Hawks had the grace to look embarrassed. “All right, you got me. Sorry about our last conversation. I didn’t trust you that much then, because of your – to put it nicely, questionable tactics, that I had uncovered. But I heard what you did from talking to the other lieutenants, I think you’ve changed, and that you’re really a part of the PLF. So I’d like to make it up to you.” 

Admittedly, her arms felt less tense after hearing his rationale. There was a sincerity in his words. 

“So you’re saying you trust me?” Geten definitely did not reciprocate this notion. 

“I believe I can trust you much more than a few days ago, at least. I’m guessing something happened within that span of time.” 

“If you talked to the rest about the briefing I missed, then there’s no need to ask me what happened.” Her ears felt hot imagining how that mission debrief went. But considering how Shigaraki’s visit went, Dabi probably said something backing her up. She added that to the list of things to ask Dabi about. 

Hawks raised his arms. “All right, I won’t pry. Just came to apologize. If my being here is uncomfortable, I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Geten’s nerves were in overdrive, as if Sanctum were present, producing voltages from his quirk. Hawks gave off the same feeling, but she thought about the girl who looked at her with fear as she handed the book to her yesterday. If that perception of her remained, then Destro’s clutches over her life would be too. She would always be seen as the cold lieutenant of the PLF, seeking liberation of her “meta-ability” over anything. And she came to the conclusion that she despised that idea. 

“Wait,” She sighed, as Hawks was getting out of his chair. “It’s fine. I suppose I owe an apology for my behaviour as well.”

“Ah. Not gonna lie, that was unexpected. What the hell happened – Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know.” 

Geten lightly chuckled. “What were you even doing the past few days, anyway? You didn’t show up for meetings.”

Hawks did a ‘I-don’t-know’ hand gesture. “Well, I’m technically not a lieutenant of a regiment or anything. I’m just a spy. So Skeptic’s, with Shigaraki’s approval, sent me to see what info I can get from the HSPC.”

“I see. Should I be hearing all of this?”

“Don’t see why not. I’ve been talking to Twice about this too, and you’re all lieutenants. Same clearance, if anything.”

“Bubaigawara?” That was a minor surprise. “Are you two friends?” 

Hawks cocked his head. “That’s one way to put it. I’ve been teaching him Liberation ideology.”

Ah. That struck a sour chord with Geten. It would have been pleasing to hear just a few weeks ago, before the doubts began to plague her mind. “For his regiment, I presume?”

“Yeah, he’s trying to prove himself a good leader. That’s pretty cool of him, so I’m helping him along with that.” 

“You read the book?” Geten said.

“Destro’s autobiography? Yeah. I’ve been advertising it to some heroes. Re-destro’s pretty happy about that. He’s a...funny guy, when he’s not angry.”

“He’s always angry.” She couldn’t help herself but spit out that sentence, sending the temperature in the room plummeting. Hawks blinked. 

“Uh...sorry, is he a bad teacher? He was your mentor, right? Or still is…” Hawks’ voice trailed off. 

She gulped. Don’t talk about it, she warned herself. As nice of a person Hawks was seeming, she definitely didn’t want him telling anyone else, much less Yotsubashi himself, about her change of heart towards the PLF and its leader. 

“No – I mean, yeah, he is. But I mostly conduct my own training now. And no, he’s an okay teacher, but I’ve made him mad a couple of times. Just...bad memories, is all.” She pursed her lips, mentally bashing herself. 

“My bad, I won’t bring him up then.” 

Geten was desperate to change the subject. “So, you think what Destro wrote resonates with you?” 

“Well, not to the extent of creating a cabal organisation and infiltrating the Hero Commission to spread his word, but I’m from the League, so I’m not one to talk. Still, his ideas of freedom and liberation…” There was a wistful look in his eyes as he stared at the afternoon sky. 

“Did I ever tell you why I became a hero at first? Before joining the League.” Geten shook her head. 

“I’m only telling you this in confidence,” He said, “And because out of all the people in the Liberation Front, you seem to really take the ideology to heart.”

Geten nodded slowly, hiding how that statement was a red hot poker through her chest. 

“I liked my meta ability a lot, but I could never really use it because of the laws of usage. So I heard about heroes and how they could use it to fight crime and save people. That’s why I became one.”

He sighed. “Then it turned out that becoming a hero placed even more restrictions on me. It was just filling out paperwork and being sent on patrols. It sucked, and that’s putting it kindly. So, here I am. It’s why I found so much meaning in Destro’s ideology. I’m guessing you feel the same.”

She nearly choked on the words. “Yeah, I guess.” So Hawks believes it? Well, he’s never faced the hell I went through, she argued. But his words sent a chill down her spine, because that’s exactly what she sounded like the first time she spoke to Dabi in the hotel. How easy was it to essentially brainwash a hero like Hawks?

You’re wrong, she wanted to tell him. But his story sounded truthful. He was shackled by the norms of hero society, and found freedom in the League, and by extension the Liberation Front. But she was born into it, made to believe it, speak for it with no voice for herself. 

Could that be the difference? 

Choice? 

“Anyway.” Hawks was getting out of his chair, snapping her out of her thoughts, “I should let you get more rest. Festival’s approaching, you probably need to start training soon.”

She gave a murmur of agreement. 

When he was at the door, he turned back. “So...allies?”

“Allies.” She affirmed. 

Hawks gave a grin and left, leaving Geten to stare at the ceiling. 

Freedom. The word didn’t sound as poisonous in her mind now. No, she did want freedom. Freedom from this Liberation Front. As to how she was to get it, she had a rough idea. 

–––––––

Standby for report. Usual. 

As he soared through the skies, Hawks willed the inked feather on the presidents’ desk to move, scribbling out the message on the fresh sheet of paper like a magic quill. It was their private form of communication, one that he was sure even Skeptic couldn’t trace. As far as he knew, he could control the stray feather from a maximum distance of 50 kilometres. And it was his best way of informing her if he ever died, because, he assumed, it would be noticeable. 

Once that message was sent, and hopefully received, he shifted focus to what had just happened. 

Well, that didn’t work, was his first thought. He wondered if he had been too soft on her, but he had little authority to assert unless he wanted to outrightly threaten her, but that was no longer possible given her relationship with Dabi – of all people. 

Things became much more harder now that she was no longer the isolationist within the PLF. 

He replayed the encounter in his mind, noting her spark of rage when Yotsubashi was mentioned. That was no surprise: she had rejected Re-destro’s leadership since his defeat, but the extent of her outburst took him aback. Something happened during her mission that he had to know. 

Takami cursed his absence that Saturday. Shigaraki’s emergency meeting was unexpected. The only source of information he had was from Bubaigawara, and the man was equally clueless. According to him, Dabi didn’t say much about it, only that the fight between the two lieutenants and Takame was difficult. 

He could try probing Dabi, but he was likely drawing sufficient suspicion from him. Any more, and he would be dead. Re-destro was another option, but Takami guessed the man had even less information to offer, even if he was interrogated. 

So that left Apocrypha and Twice. The former would definitely be of greater use, but she trusted him half as much as the latter. He would have to try again, maybe tomorrow. If he was correct, she would be hospitalised till Friday – assuming she held up her end of that bargain with Dabi. 

He let out a chuckle, thinking about how he froze up when he heard that conversation. 

I’ll be damned, Dabi and her, it’s almost poetic. If this were high school, he would have no qualms playing matchmaker. But since both were psychopaths in their own right, they were a lit cigarette at a gas station, and Keigo was unsure how far he could push them before they came at him brandishing ice and fire. 

He entertained himself thinking about this. Given Dabi’s behaviour and actions, he suspected some form of self-resistance on Dabi’s part, and Apocrypha was probably confused about emotions and all that. All things considered, she was handling her transition towards humanity better than he thought, putting it somewhat dramatically. 

Who knew I’d be using what I learnt from my training to watch a clueless couple of villains decipher their own feelings? If he ever wrote a autobiography – assuming he survived all this, this would be up there, along with all the war crimes he would have to commit in the name of peace. 

One of which would have to be conducted soon, if he had no answer to deliver to his superiors. Alternatively, after reporting all of this, maybe they had another way. They always seemed to, after all. Frustration constricted his face, with, thankfully, no one to witness it. 

Goddammit, Shigaraki, what are you after? What’s the Festival really for?

[adenei]

The Mix Tape Mishap

6th year, AU; Hermione is home for Christmas holidays and uses [modern] muggle music to cope with the heartbreak she continues to suffer from her falling out with Ron and his current relationship with Lavender. What will happen when the mixed CD she made for herself ends up in Ron's hands on Christmas morning?

This is still set in the normal time period (1996), but I've taken the creative liberty to pretend that the albums I've referenced were also released during that year (adding to the AU label), instead of when they were actually produced (which is anywhere between 10-20 years later).

This is the first chapter. Chapter 2 is up on AO3 and FFN

Hermione was studying in the library a couple nights before the Christmas holidays. She found herself in the library more often than not to avoid the snogfest production given by Ron and Lavender in the common room each night, and the subsequent wrenching of her heart that she still couldn’t seem to shake. She’d tried so hard to forget him, to move on, and to give up on any chance of reconciling their friendship, let alone something more.

Instead of accomplishing any homework, she’d shifted her focus to her Christmas gift checklist. Her mum had written to her this morning to let Hermione know she had gotten the muggle items she’d requested for gifts. Hermione knew Ginny was into wizard rock, and thought she’d like some muggle music, so that was the theme of her gift this year. Hermione’s mum had picked up the newest Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco CDs for Ginny, along with a Sony Walkman player, batteries and headphones for Ginny to experience it with. Of course, Hermione had assumed she’d be at the Burrow for Christmas so she could help Ginny with the muggle technology, but that wouldn’t be happening now that she and Ron weren’t speaking. Ginny did tell her she was still welcome at the Burrow, but Hermione couldn’t stomach the thought of being in the same house as Ron while not speaking to him. Ron had made his decision clear when he’d chosen Lavender over her.

“There you are!” Hermione heard a familiar voice and saw Ginny approaching the table. She quickly hid the list as Ginny sat down. “You can’t honestly tell me you still have work to do? We leave for hols in two days!”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t revise,” said Hermione, unwilling to give away the real reason she was there.

“Have you thought anymore about still coming to the Burrow?” Ginny asked.

“Ginny, you know I wouldn’t be welcome there by Ron. It would be too awkward. I just...not this year, okay?” Hermione said.

Ginny could tell how hurt Hermione was by the whole Lavender fiasco, and knew that she was partly to blame. She hadn’t told Hermione what happened after quidditch practice that night, but was still trying to make up for the guilt she felt at seeing how hurt her best friend was. “Okay, maybe not for Christmas, but why not for New Years? We can hide out in my room if you want and not have to worry about seeing my git of a brother. I’ll even see if Fred and George can smuggle me the good champagne and we can get good and pissed and forget about boys!”

Hermione eyed her and wondered why she was being so pushy on the subject. She wondered if something was wrong with her relationship with Dean. “Maybe that might work,” she indulged her. “Why do you want me to visit so badly anyways?”

“It’s way more fun when you’re around. When it’s just Harry and Ron they shut me out and I’m always so bored! That or mum sticks me with even more chores because I don’t seem ‘busy,’” Ginny air quoted the last word.

Hermione laughed, “Alright, if it means that much to you, I’ll ask when I get home. Just- just don’t tell anyone, except for your mum of course. I wouldn’t want to show up unannounced, but I absolutely do not want the boys to know.”

“My lips are sealed,” Ginny promised, making a mental note not to blow it this time.

* * *

The following Monday found Hermione in her bedroom, reading and relaxing while her parents were at work for the day. Christmas was still two days away, but her shopping was done, and she was putting off the wrapping. Mrs. Granger had surprised Hermione with a new walkman and CDs of her own when she got home on Saturday, so she was spending a lot of her time listening to those instead.

Hermione had forgotten how much she enjoyed listening to music, and the albums her mum had picked up had been perfect for helping her cope with everything she was going through with Ron. She’d received the newest Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran albums (1989 and X), which had been playing on repeat. Always one to pay attention to the words, Hermione had found the lyrics to be overly relatable to her current heartbroken situation.

She wasn’t sure what led her to pull out the pen and paper at her desk, but as she listened through each album she wrote down the title of each song and a few lines that resonated with her. Writing it down and listening to those songs on repeat were bringing her more comfort than she’d felt over the past six weeks.

Attempt #36 to get over him

I’m a Mess “I can’t work it out. How? Goin’ through the motions, goin’ through us I’ve known it for the longest time, and all my hope, All my words are all over..”

Photograph “I keep this love in a photograph We make these memories for ourselves..”

Tenerife Sea “You’ve got the kind of look in your eyes That says nobody knows anything but us…” “All that you are is all that I’ll ever need”

All You Had To Do Was Stay “Had me in the palm of your hand Why’d you have to go and lock me out When I let you in”

I Wish You Would “Wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore”

Wildest Dreams “Nothing lasts forever But this is gonna take me down “He’s so tall and handsome as hell..”

How you Get the Girl “I want you for worse or for better I would wait forever and ever”

This Love “Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees”

I know Places “And you know for me, it’s always been you”

There, Hermione thought to herself, that was oddly satisfying. Who knew listening to music and writing the lyrics could make me feel better? Hermione walked over to the new computer her parents had purchased while she was at Hogwarts. She followed the steps her dad had shown her to turn it on and open up the music player. He’d shown Hermione how to upload music and burn a CD with some of the music she thought Harry might like from Ginny’s CDs. Even though she’d already gotten Harry a gift, Hermione wanted to take advantage of sharing the music with him, too. She knew both Harry and Ginny had the same taste in music, and just in case Ginny didn’t want to share her CDs, he could have a mixed version of his own, and Hermione could let him borrow her Walkman.

Hermione set out to upload all four of her new CDs, and made two separate playlists, one labelled ‘Harry - Christmas 1996’ and the other labeled ‘RW Bad Blood.’ She thought that was clever even though she wasn’t even including the song on her mix. She took two blank CDs and figured out how to make the new copies with her playlists. She labelled the blank envelopes, and placed the CDs in the appropriate slots once finished. Hermione also slid the paper she’d written on earlier in the ‘Bad Blood’ envelope. She’d hide it in her desk drawer later.

She walked back to her room and used magic to put the cellophane wrapping back on the CDs for Ginny. Hermione was sure Ginny wouldn’t have minded her opening them to share the music with Harry, but she still wanted them to look new and unopened for her. Thank goodness for being of age, Hermione thought to herself. Hermione went on to wrap Ginny’s present in the magical wrapping paper, including a note saying she’d see her on New Year’s Eve. She also added the request for her to give Harry the envelope with his name on it. As she set the presents with the other magically wrapped presents to be delivered Christmas morning at the Burrow, she heard her parents call to her. Hermione left everything on the pile, including the mix she’d made to help her cope with losing Ron...

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.