#posted it on time but tumblr is harder bc i need to use my computer and it's a whole thing

[go-to-the-mirror]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Relationship: Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters: Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who), Henry van Statten

Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who) Whump, Medical Torture, Vivisection, Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Episode: s01e06 Dalek, Hurt No Comfort, Minor Ninth Doctor & Rose Tyler, Title is from a line in the dalek novelisation, which you should all read right now, Mentioned Rose Tyler, Spoilers for Episode: s04e17-18 The End of Time, Captivity, Non-consensual surgery, No beta we die like ten

Words: 807

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

The Doctor sends the TARDIS and Rose back to her time, and Henry van Statten has a unique alien specimen all to himself. --- “You’re going to die, van Statten,” he says. “You’re going to die because you won’t listen.” “And what do you think will happen to you, Doctor?” The Doctor doesn’t answer --- Written for Whumptober 2023, day 11. Prompts used are captivity and “No one will find you.”

Warnings:

Captivity

Non-consensual surgery

Restraints

Torture

Vivisection

 

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Work Header

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Doctor Who (2005)

Relationship:

Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters:

Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who)

Henry van Statten

Additional Tags:

Whumptober

Whumptober 2023

Ninth Doctor (Doctor Who) Whump

Medical Torture

Vivisection

Torture

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Canon Divergence - Episode: s01e06 Dalek

Hurt No Comfort

Minor Ninth Doctor & Rose Tyler

Title is from a line in the dalek novelisation

which you should all read right now

Mentioned Rose Tyler

Spoilers for Episode: s04e17-18 The End of Time

Captivity

Non-consensual surgery

No beta we die like ten

Language: English Series: ← Previous Work Part 11 of Whumptober 2023, ← Previous Work Part 2 of Season 1 Episode 6 Dalek Collections: Whumptober 2023 Stats: Published:2023-10-11Words:807Chapters:1/1Comments:2Kudos:4Hits:26

Alien Dissection

NebbyAxolotl

Summary:

The Doctor sends the TARDIS and Rose back to her time, and Henry van Statten has a unique alien specimen all to himself. Written for Whumptober 2023, day 11. Prompts used are captivity and “No one will find you.”

Notes:

For bloopdydooooo.

Written 10 Oct. 2023. Content warnings in the end notes. Anyway yeahhh babyyy i’m writing the same fic but Again because I like making 9 suffer. I’ve written half the fics in the vivisection tag in this fandom. Brian you need to get on that.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“With your… girl gone, no one will find you, Doctor.”

The Doctor looks up at van Statten, it’s hard to look anywhere but up, in the position that he’s in. “That’s why I did it.”

“Not the best of decisions,” van Statten responds, amicably.

“That thing you’ve got there.” Van Statten sighs, the Doctor continues regardless. “It’s a monster. It’ll kill everything.”

“So you send your only mode of escape away. Wise.”

The Doctor wishes he could move, could do anything but lie there, because he’s well aware of how his current situation undercuts his point. “That Dalek, if it escapes—“

“Which it won’t,” interrupts van Statten.

“Which is could. If it escapes — when it escapes — it’ll kill its way out of your museum ,” he spits the last word, he’s shaking, he can feel it. “And it’ll kill everyone on Earth.”

“I think you’ll find that humans are better at handling threats than your species was.”

The Doctor laughs, because how wrong can you get. His species stood a chance against the Daleks, that’s more than any other ones could say.

(His species would’ve killed the universe just as much as the Daleks would’ve, and he can’t think about that, he’s told himself he’d never think about that again.)

“You’re going to die, van Statten,” he says. “You’re going to die because you won’t listen.”

“And what do you think will happen to you, Doctor?”

The Doctor doesn’t answer him, and van Statten leaves.

---

The Doctor likes to think that humans tend towards goodness. It’s not that that’s a lie , per se, but it’s not entirely the truth.

See, humans are good when they can see something as the same as them. It’s that sense of kinship, it’s what a lot of species that reach space have in common. It’s also what makes them so dangerous, both to their own species and to others.

It’s not all humans who fear the unknown, but it’s enough to make it so when faced with something different, humans will fear it or assume superiority, often both. And when faced with something they need to distance themselves from, when faced with something they want to hurt, they’ll try their best to see their victim as not a person at all.

This is a long winded way to say that he’s afraid. Afraid of what the scientists — or he assumes they’re scientists — in the room mean, what they’re going to do to him, why haven’t they told him, is that a scalpel?

He’s almost glad Rose is gone. She can’t see this.

“Sedate him,” van Statten says.

“It doesn’t work,” he responds, and he hates it, hates how broken his voice sounds.

“What?” van Statten asks, coming properly into view.

“Anaesthetic,” the Doctor replies. “It doesn’t work.”

The Doctor knows it’s not going to stop him, but at least the Doctor won’t have to deal with what’s about to happen to him with a tube stuck down his throat.

Van Statten makes a gesture to someone and the table where he’s lying is made completely horizontal. Then someone straps his arms — stretched out to either side — legs, even head down. They’re strong, the restraints. What are they planning on doing to him?

“Open him up,” van Statten says, and he can’t help it, his hearts start to race.

The person with the scalpel doesn’t meet his eyes. There’s a pause before it happens, and then they finally make a cut and the Doctor would be writhing in pain if he weren’t strapped down so thoroughly. Instead he screams, wordless.

Through the haze of pain he hears van Statten murmur, “That’s amazing,” and then he’s screaming again, because they’re doing something , and he can’t hear above his own screams.

The Doctor can’t see, can’t see anything but the ceiling and occasional glimpses of van Statten and the scientists who are doing this to him. He’s straining so much against the restraints that he’ll have bruises, provided he lives, because this hurts so much he’s going to die, he’s just going to die.

There’s a pause. The Doctor’s screams peter off into cries, and he hates himself for it, because he can’t even breathe, can’t even get himself to wheeze out that the Dalek is dangerous.

“That’s fascinating ,” van Statten says, and then there’s the pain again, and the Doctor needs to get away, get away from him, but he’s held fast and helpless and all he can do is scream again.

---

They’ve closed the Doctor up, but they haven’t unrestrained him, not even slightly. Haven’t even moved him. He doesn’t want to think about what that means for him.

He doesn’t want to think about a lot of things, least of all that he’s just another oddity in van Statten’s museum, and that his only hope of rescue is in London in 2005.

[beesmygod]

i only read tumblr once a day because i [try] to stay sane so only just caught up with the art discourse, which I do have some bits n shit I want to add: a bit fasile for one but, dont you as an artist have upkeep and resource needs to produce? even if its just like...computer, tablet and necessities to continue existence because art takes time to make, those are real, and cost money. "art" in an absolute sense can be made for free with minimal time through just thinking, but like, a webcomic that is a physical thing made of electronic patterns and hosted on a server, takes time and takes stuff. "Webcomics" isnt a free infinitely repeating resource, and you are more than a machine to create webcomic, and none of us are infinite as a resource! at worst, art hits public domain eventually. that said even from that place of survival in capitalistic society it DOES make sense to at least have free public facing art as PROMOTION even if its just idk downtime sketches, doodles, memes, fanart etc so like im not 100% disagreeing yknow, and I am not and artists cant be a paying consumer my/their own art, art has to exist for the self too, the self that isnt a "paying class", or i just start making marvel movies and then its time to find my cool wet hole in the dirt and express my creative individuality like im a mathmatician of statistical analysis of fluid dynamics.

now that im awake i was going to answer these point by point, but this kind of flies past my point that making art exclusively for those who pay is abysmal and treating your audience like they're thieves is a poisonous and off-putting response to one's perceived "loss of income" (which is not even theft because the item being "stolen" can be reproduced infinitely. im talking about like a digital image like a comic page and not a physical item where there's limited copies lol). people either want to pay you or they dont; you can't force people to pay you by making access to your work harder, worse, more inconvenient, and more degrading to your audience. you can't induce artificial scarcity and be a good person.

like yeah obviously art production takes money. that's why most artists work desk jobs instead of trying to make it a solo venture and just expecting the world around them to pick up their slack. i didn't come out of a lotus blossom with a tablet ready to go, i worked desk jobs from age 15-24 in order to have enough savings to cushion myself if need be and pay for base supplies. i use tablets and items gifted/sold to me at a steep discount by my friends. i lived really poor in order to have the life i wanted. and i really loved it lol. i still think of that time so fondly.

once the comic is produced and posted, it is free for my audience to look at and the reproduction costs of the finished image is 0 dollars. it can be copied and reposted freely without charge. it costs me basically nothing to host. the production costs are currently covered by patreon donations. if they were no longer covered by patreon donations i would get a desk job instead of making my choice to go into the financially unsuccessful field of the arts my audience's personal problem to solve. if i don't make things people want to buy, that's my problem and not my audience's.

yeah, it would suck to have to stop doing this because its no longer financially viable (it is really financially hard right now; the state of the world around us is not conductive to the patreon life), but i wasn't entitled to it anyway. i get to make art for a living bc i have an audience that permits me to. why would i start treating them like dogshit or lying about value of my work to squeeze extra money out of them after what they gifted me?

[sick-ada]

CICADA AGENTS MASTERPOST

bc i keep forgetting that i havent actually put much abt my agents on my tumblr and i need to expose the max number of people to my blorbos as i can

going under the readmore cause this is gonna get longg

(this has been in my drafts for over a month)

CB-808 (agent 8, she/her) and Bubbles (agent 8 AGAIN, a SECOND TIME, CAN YOU TELL EIGHT IS MY FAV, he/him)

they're "twins", meaning they both woke up without any memories, saw that they were the only two nearby who looked similar (being the only non-sanitized octolings in the metro) and assumed that meant they were twins

they do all of the tests in octo expansion as a duo! this makes some tests easier (like girl power station) and others much harder (like the one with the dualie squelchers and the grindrails, since they have to share the weapon between them)

this kinda fucks with the computer systems and all their mem cakes are blended (lmao) together. they have to work together to figure out whose memories are whose, to varying success levels

very very very codependent. theyll get anxious if you take the other to another room where they cant see each other. proto (cap3) convinced them to do one test separately and CB got so worked up she punched the side of the carriage and permanently dented it

they didnt try a second time

ON THE TOPIC OF CB DENTING THE METAL: shes freakishly strong, in an artificially-modified way rather than a very-strong-but-normal way

after the splatoon 1 campaign, elite soldiers deserted en masse since nearly all of them were at the concert/final-battle, leaving a gaping hole in the octarian military. in an attempt to fill that gap as quickly as possible, volunteers were "purposed" to become enhanced super-soldiers

(ill probably make a dedicated post abt it when i remember but "purposing" is what they do to make octarians (the stubby tentacle guys) into all the different forms you see in-game. debateably ethical to begin with, SUPER unethical to do to actual octolings)

im bad at timelining but she signs up to this when she's like,,, 13. still kinda blobby

functionally, what it did to her was make her freakishly strong (she breaks the handles on doors ridiculously often) and about 50% more resistance to enemy ink. girls a tank. however, she has trouble regulating her strength and therefore cant superjump accurately since she overshoots her target every time

it's also super painful. she permanently lost her voice from screaming too much and cant speak any louder than a whisper, but she knows octarian and inklish sign languages so she gets along fine

her name is CB-808 bc that was the serial number printed on a livestock tag in her ear

BUBBLES ON THE OTHER HAND. not physically fucked up. mentally though................

his parents were some of the elites who deserted after hearing the Inkantation (in my headcanons it's something that can be resisted, but only temporarily). he wanted their approval more than anything so them leaving him was devastating

hes not actually a dude he just think he/him is a cool set of pronouns. heard someone say "him" once and absorbed it into his gender

he lied abt his age to become a scout/reconnaisance (how you spell that??), even if nobody was really gonna check given the situation after splat1

where CB is built like a tank, he's tall and lanky, and also scarily smart. combined with his lack of filter he'll literally just stare at you for 5 seconds before saying some shit like "oh i see. youre scared of us because of our competence and your perception of our alleigances compared to urs"

captain 3 is scared by him more than CB. as they should be.

his name is Bubbles because he has circular markings on his upper arms and CB is not very good at coming up with names (shes an amnesiac teenager give her a break)

theyre both 15 during octo expansion, and 20 by splatoon3

after reaching the surface they move in with flora (4) and his roommate bola (oc) to form the Leftovers Squad, an inksports team and maybe-gang

these two are wonderfully terrible influences and teach the two of them how to defy authority n shit, it's great, ill talk abt it more in their specific sections

CB mains the dynamo but plays it like a splat roller because she's so strong she can swing it with about that speed. Bubbles mains the e-liter and has nutty aim. the kind of duo that makes people realize theyre ex-soldiers

both of them are too obedient to authority, leftover habits from the military even if they don't fully remember their time there. CB is much worse in this regard, since she was more heavily conditioned to follow orders and Bubbles is observant enough to realize when theyre being taken advantage of

FLORA (agent 4, he/she used interchangeably)

part of the Leftovers Squad! a young punk squid that revels in rebellion and violence and showing people what's what

almost entirely deaf. he had pretty bad hearing to begin with, but loud raves without ear protection worsened it significantly. his hero headset functions as hearing aids but he doesnt usually wear them unless he's on NSS missions or patrols or w/e

came to inkopolis when she was 14, but it wasnt intentional. her parents were the kind of awful perfectionists that expected their children to be equally as perfect, so decided to leave flora in inkopolis bc she did awful in school

he was taken under Bola's fin (get it it's a fish pun theyre fish im hilarious) and became enamoured with the adrenaline-fueled, bloody-mouthed rush of fighting, in and out of inksports

the best way i can describe her is "violent for the sake of violence and gleeful about it". she starts a fight with someone twice her size just for the fun of attacking and taking a beating. probably something wrong with her. i love her with every fibre of my being

has absolutely zero respect or trust in authority -- especially adults, which includes Marie since she's 19 in splat2 and he's only 16

still goes along with her whole "hey go save the zapfish" spiel because A) she cant actually hear what marie is saying B) marie gave her some free fancy hearing aids so she GUESSES she has to return the favour somehow C) she wants to fight some octarian soldiers D) she wants to steal her own zapfish (she succeeds, it gets a tank in Leftover Squad's living room) and E) she thinks itll be REALLY funny to fuck with marie

shes right btw. its hilarious

she only follows orders when it's funnier than disobeying them. she puts zapfishes back in levels she wants to complete a second time. she teaches octolings how to play poker (and how to cheat at poker). she lets a squee-g splat her "to see what it feels like"

if callie wasn't missing marie would NOT put up with his bullshit, but alas.

respects agent 3 even less than marie, when they meet, since at least marie has a sense of humour

he's the one who suggests that CB and Bubbles move in with him and Bola after Octo Expansion. less out of his own goodwill and more out of a combination of morbid curiousity and a sense of "bola has a habit of taking weird inkfish under their fin, walking in with two soldiers will be really funny"

gets hypnoshaded 5 years post-splat2 (during the splat3 campaign) and has to be rescued by the leftover Leftovers (lmao) and Off the Hook. octavio doesnt really convince her to put them on, theres no realistic way he could do that, so he physically overpowers her and puts the shades on

he gets rescued tho! so it's all good and absolutely no interpersonal issues come from it i swear (lying)

Bola (they/them, not an agent)

another member of Leftovers Squad and, arguably, its leader

is about as comfortable with violence as flora (read: very comfortable) but, unlike him, doesn't enjoy it for its own sake. when they do a violence, it's for a specific aim and a purpose, even if that purpose seems inane or petty

theyre the leader of the leftovers mostly because theyre the only one with a goal or any sort of purpose. also because theyre by far the most charismatic of the bunch but mostly bc theyre the only one with any direction in life. the other three are happy to just help with that

(calling it a purpose is doing it too much justice, it's a grudge. a massive fucking grudge against Squidforce as a brand and an institution and a company. they want that thing obliterated)

when they first came to inkopolis (they were like 12), they werent a citizen of inkadia so they had no ID and weren't allowed to do official Squidforce battles, so they went to unofficial/illegal/unregulated turf wars to make some cash

this got shut down by squidforce

they decided "no. fuck this. fuck you, im gonna fuck every single one of you over, die." and swore vengeance about as dramatically as a then-13 year old could. luckily, bola was a very dramatic, kinda blobby 13 year old

they met flora when he came to inkopolis and introduced him to the concept of You Can Just Fight These People If You Don't Like Them

would have agreed to housing CB and Bubbles if Flora had just asked but this is fine they guess

theyll be the last to admit they have a compassionate streak, but they have a soft spot for the underbelly of inkopolis and everyone who lives there, most of which are underrepresented or downtrodden by the system that squidforce upholds

theyre an octoling but not an octarian (citizen of octaria, the nation that lost the great turf war and now lives in the domes) like CB and Bubbles are

instead, theyre a weird subspecies of octoling that went back in the water while the "normal" species of inkfish stayed on the surface. they still have most of the same features as an inkfish, like the shapeshifting, but have more aquatic adaptations like gills and razor sharp teeth and being able to swim in water unharmed (ik inkfish dying in water is only dubiously canon but for my headcanons normal inkfish dissolve like ingame if they fall into water)

they also have sepiism! better described in this post this means their ink/tentacle colours are limited to blacks and browns. their subspecies is more prone to this colour mutation than other inkfish since black is a pretty good camoflague colour if youre in the deep ocean. idk i wanted an excuse to make them look cool dont think abt it too hard

they absolutely despise proto (captain 3). aint no world where theyd trust the militaristic authority figure that orders around the two ex-soldiers theyre trying to teach how to be independent

not to mention the grudge they form against the captain after the hypnoshading incident that i will elaborate on i PROMISE its in the next section

aFTER I TALK ABOUT THE LEFTOVERS SQUAD AS A WHOLE. IF I CANT ESCAPE THEM NEITHER CAN YOU

when they meet, post octo expansion, the twins are 15 and the punks are 16, so theyre 20 and 21 respectively by the time splat3 rolls around

flora gets squidnapped just after splat3 campaign (which lasts like a day for reasons that will be evident once i get to neo 3 and "little" buddy), so proto and the squid sisters are in alterna monitoring the situation and doing cleanup while it happens. this will be relevant later. foreshadowing is a technique where--

a couple months after the twins move in, CB discovers inksports and makes the biggest saddest puppy dog eyes at the rest of the squad until they agree to making a league team together. it's also called the leftovers

CB and Flora love it because they enjoy physically fighting people (CB likes that she doesnt have to be permanently hurting people during it, Flora would like it better if there was a lil permanent injury tbh). Bubbles enjoys it because his sister enjoys it and also because he enjoys using his big brain to do sick predicts and snipe people from across the map where he's nice and safe. Bola only joins at first because telling the ex-soldier, who theyve been trying to convince that you dont need peoples permission to do things, "no" would be counterproductive. they hate every moment they have to fight in a squidforce battle. but then once the team gets well-known they realise that squidforce cant get rid of them anymore and uses their platform to absolutely troll the shit out of squidforce

like when they go on interviews and stuff they constantly mention how shitty squidforce is and "yeah i personally prefer [smaller organisation]'s inksports, they have way better maps and modes, squidforce just has a monopoly so..." and squidforce cant do shit bc theyre the charismatic face of this popular new team and itd be bad publicity

CB and Bubbles dont have real IDs cause theyre amnesiac teenagers who made up their own names. flora and bola get them fake IDs that claim CB stands for Courtney Blitz, making bubbles into Bubbles Blitz

CB often gets called Clam Blitz. CB does NOT appreciate this. Bubbles thinks it's hilarious and only answers people who call him "Blam Blitz" for like a week

Bubbles mains the E-liter but likes lots of different anchors, CB exclusively plays her "splat roller" (a dynamo swung really fast), Flora learnt how to play every weapon from the splat2 campaign and can play basically anything (but usually goes for something close-range so his bloodlust gets put to good use. heavy weapons tend to turn into bludgeons in his hands) i dont know what bola would use tbh. i wanna say a splatana but this is set mainly in splat2 so they wouldnt have those. if anyone is still reading this far pls make suggestions in the notes 👍

CB and Bubbles dont have any sense of money (in my hcs, the domes work more on a communal property + bartering system) so they have no reason to object to pearl giving them inordinate amounts of money. bola and flora have to have a conversation where they ask whether pearl is their sugar daddy. this is agonising for everyone involved.

they used the money to buy an unreasonably large bed that they all sleep on together bc theyre my ocs i make the rules

i promised it was proto next. here *throws them like a javelin through the screen

Proto (captain 3, they/them)

i shld probably start at the beginning for them bc their actions through all the games are the catalyst for a Lot of plot

they were raised in calamari county, their parents were friends with callie and maries parents so they hung out a bunch when they were kids. basically the third squid sister, though they get way too bad stage fright to become idols like the other two

hanging out with those two so much also meant a lot of exposure to cap'n cuttlefish. proto idolised him to no end, decided they wanted to be just like him when they grew up

when the squisters went to inkopolis to become idols, proto became their manager. they were also recruited alongside callie and marie into the NSS when craig decided to reform it. ive never actually watched a playthrough of splat1 so i dont actually know how the plot works other than "craig is there and then callie & marie are there" so the next part is probably gonna be more canon parallel than canon adjacent

also because im just making up random shit about splat1. thats probably also a factor

in this version of canon, the octarians dont steal every zapfish you grab at the end of the levels, only the ones used for the boss levels. all the rest are ones owned by the octarians, mostly bred in captivity cause where tf else are you gonna get the power for running the domes

proto isnt an active agent in splat1, it's callie and marie who go in and do the fighting while proto is the one coordinating them and making plans. their plan is to steal all these extra zapfish to strain the domes' resources and then perform the inkantation during the final confrontation to make the maximum number of soldiers (especially elites) desert, all so they become incapable of stealing more zapfish or launching a retaliatory strike

and cap'n cuttlefish approves so surely that means that this is a good plan and any suffering caused is a necessary evil and it's not like this paranoid old man has any biases or grudges that would impede his judgement. surely not

side note: instead of inner agent 3, CB and Bubbles have to fight inner agents 1 & 2. inner-callie targets CB and inner-marie targets Bubbles because i think the roller-charger parallel is cool

the plan works! elites and soldiers desert in droves, neutering the octarian military capability, and octaria has to focus what resources it has on not starving (which it barely achieves, theres a famine regardless) rather than attacking back. it also creates the conditions for bubbles' parents to leave him and for CB to undergo the extremely painful and inhumane procedures to become an enhanced supersoldier but proto doesnt learn this til octo expansion

the squid sister stories proceed basically like canon, but proto dedicates themselves to agent work while marie focuses on the radio and callie focuses on acting. theyre out investigating the metro with craig when callie gets squidnapped so they dont find out until octo expansion finishes (like a few weeks after she gets rescued)

SPEAKING OF OCTO EXPANSION. PROTO IS THERE THE WHOLE TIME

they dont fight CB and Bubbles, theyre a terrible fighter and a bit of a wimp (and those two are kinda terrifying), instead they watch when they get overpowered and captured by a squad of sanitized octolings (those two got sent to investigate since people kept vanishing when they went that way). they still get the same "youre down here because of me" guilt since they chose to watch rather than intervene

they later got into the metro proper and found those same people but like super amnesia'd and a little traumatised already, even if theyre not sure how much of that was already there, and then they get even MORE fucked up because the metro is fucking Like That

also guilt bc they dont actually help with the tests beyond advice thru the comms. can never have too much of that

they get CB and Bubbles out of the blender by removing their special limiter and spamming splashdown on the top til it breaks, getting exhausted and passing out afterwards, letting tartar control them

the hole in the ceiling gets made by CB throwing a bit of broken blender really hard

usually they would get their ass kicked by either CB or Bubbles, let alone both at once, but the two of them are so exhausted and fucked up and a little injured that the fight is closer than anyone would like. the fight ends when CB grabs them by the ankle and slams them into the floor. think that one scene from the avengers with the hulk and loki

unfortunately, since CB is way too scared and full of adrenaline to properly regulate her strength, she completely crushes their ankle and lower leg. since it doesnt splat them, they dont respawn, and everyone is too preoccupied with destroying the NILs statue to get them to a hospital, the leg wasnt salvageable and they had to get it amputated below the knee

theyre an ambulatory wheelchair user, after that. sometimes crutches instead, but they tend to go for the chair in alterna bc crutches and ice do NOT mix trust me on this. i only had crutches for a couple months but i fell on my ass SO much

anyway they reconnect with callie and marie and things are fine and good and theyre totally not avoiding the twins because marina kept updating them on relevant files she found during OE and theyre struggling to reconcile the idea that these are enemies with the undeniable truth that nobody has had a greater negative impact on their lives than them.

probably would be worse if marina told them the twins were 15. good thing she doesnt!

oh yeah i forgot ages. proto is 17 in splat1, 19 in splat2/OE and 24 by splat3

anyway yeah in their efforts to avoid the twins so that they dont have to think about the wide-reaching consequences of their past actions, they dont actually leave them with any way to contact them while they go check out the Crater. itll only be a quick mission, right? no need to worry about it

alterna happens

then they and the squid sisters come back to cuttlefish cabin to find it completely empty, then discover that flora is still in the hospital after having the shit kicked out of him because he was hypnoshaded and they didnt have any low-tide ink because marie wasnt there and they couldnt contact her and they tried and they tried and why didnt anyone answer and

theres a big cool dramatic confrontation where CB and Bubbles reveal they got all their mem cakes and know exactly who proto is and what they did and would have forgiven if they had been honest but now they cant trust their captain and formally quit the NSS

honestly theres more stuff for proto after this but i ahvent actually figured it out yet.

personality-wise, theyre overconfident in their own abilities and underconfident in the abilities of everyone else, they struggle to give control of anything over to someone else. because why would they allow someone else to be in charge when they know that their own plans are automatically so much better?

as they learn about the actual consequences of their splat1 plan via CB and Bubbles' descriptions of their mem cakes, this confidence falters a bit. they spent so long with that plan being one of their greatest achievements that they cant reconcile with the reality that it had devastating consequences for innocent people

this is not at all helped by Flora, who makes no secret of his opinion on proto. at first he's just fucking with them for the sake of fucking with them, the same way he does for marie, but it gets more antagonistic when proto reacts with genuine anger rather than the good humour marie does. flora absolutely does not take kindly to people trying to exert authority over her so she aims to piss off proto at every opportunity

it is very easy for flora to piss proto off

OKAY I HIT THE CHARACTER LIMIT ILL MAKE A SECOND POST FOR THE REST

[soulrph]

Hi Blue! I was wondering, do you by chance have any thoughts on meme accessibility? More specifically, I'm talking about the format of memes being accessible to people who possibly struggle to read certain formatting or that kind of thing. For example, I find that your meme lists are VERY accessible, but I find so many of these meme/resource/rph blogs are not (they use multiple spaces between words that make it harder to read, use too many fancy fonts that are difficult to read and don't show up on screenreaders, etc). What are your thoughts/feeling on memes being inaccessible in this way, and how have you had to adjust your meme formatting to ensure you've got accessibility for your own memes (whether here or on soulprompts)?

i have some thoughts, my light! although, fair warning, my thoughts are actually fairly ?? like, middle-of-the-field, i think? so i'll list a few of them here, and you'll understand what i mean by that in a moment!

accessibility is, in my opinion, a unique thing to each person. so, a while ago i tried to use the blue font on my posts for this blog, bc my name is blue, the colour theme for this blog is blue, it just felt like a very cute idea, and at the time i was using the dark tumblr background, so it stood out very clearly! all was well! all was happy! but then i got a new laptop two days later, and the default is the blue and white background for tumblr, right? so i was looking at the posts and it dawned on me that the light blue font is actually pretty difficult to see on the default screen, and i made a post asking if people would be happier for me to just not use the light blue font anymore, and one person said yes, so i just keep using black font now! mainly because the light blue is more of a pretty aesthetic thing; the black on white contrast is clearer for everyone, and if people need to lower the contrast, their personal computer settings would more than likely accommodate that!

however, the reason i think accessibility is more of a personally unique and tailored thing is because of a recent debate surrounding spacing in a formatted post. now, me, personally? i can read and follow just about any format there is. purple prose is an exception to the rule, and only because i feel like i have to sit down and translate it WHILE forming a reply to the thread, you know? but single spacing, double spacing, triple, etc? it doesn't bother me. i'm very fortunate that way, but i digress!

i have some friends who need single spacing in their responses, and i have others who require the additional spaces to separate the words more distinctly. something that's been more present on rules pages lately is that many people are happy to accommodate the personal preferences and needs of their writing partners; likewise, many people are very aware that we're all only human, we will forget things, we will make mistakes in our formatting, and steps are generally being taken to ensure that we, as a community, are hospitable enough to allow people to speak up and say "actually i can't read the double spacing very well" or "would you mind making the font just regular from now on?" and we'll be able to communicate these things more clearly and comfortably!

i feel like i'm rambling and not answering the question, so i'm gonna make the rest of my points shorter and more concise!

many of the meme blogs which i frequently rely on are run by compassionate and lovely people who happily change their formatting to suit their followers. this is a stark change from 5+ years ago, when these requests could have been responded to with indignant tones of "well why don't you use a different blog?" or "it's not MY responsibility to make YOUR experience a good one". i have a frighteningly but wonderfully large number of followers on this blog, and i actually consider it a privilege when people make these requests, because it tells me that i'm doing something right that people are comfortable enough to ask me these things!

as for how i format things on my blogs, i admit that i do use the fancy fonts for the titles of the memes (although i'm very VERY happy to change that to a regular font if it's something ye want!) and as far as spacing is concerned, i like to leave a few spaces for the action prompts, but it's always single spacing after that! so like:

[ ANSWER ]: receiver answers the lovely sender's question.

and that's only because i think it's a little easier to read, but again, i'm happy to change that if people want me to!

i hope this answered your question my angel! thank you for asking! if you want more input on this, @leneemusing has several very informative and insightful posts made on the subject of accessibility in the rpc!

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

Another tag game! I was tagged by @chocolatepot; tagging @epersonae, @gaypiratebrainrot, and @emi--rose (no worries if you’ve already been tagged!)

Do you write in order? In the sense of “is the first thing I wrote usually the beginning?” No. Usually I have to write and write and write to figure out exactly what I’m actually trying to get at. Then once I’ve gotten a sense of the middle I can figure out how to frame it. But typically the last thing I write ends up being the ending - I never know how to end a thing until I’ve written all of it.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try? Usually once I’ve finished a rough draft, I have a pretty clear idea of what I want it to be when it’s done. To me, it is already that thing, but the themes might not be intelligible to anyone but me. I have to edit and polish to make those qualities apparent to others, I think. But usually when I finish a rough draft I’m like “hell yeah this is awesome” and I read it the next day and realize all the flaws, lmao.

How many drafts do you go through? Oh god so many. I tend to edit by retyping scenes - switching between two tabs and just rewriting what I’ve already written. This helps me notice when I’m re-using phrases or adding too much detail into scenes... if I’m bored retyping it then maybe it isn’t important. But sometimes this backfires, because if I find a different direction for a scene to go then I’ll follow it. If I’m working through something complicated, like an argument between two characters, this can mean that I have five different versions of a scene that all end up in different places. Because dialogue always feels like I’m doing improv bits with myself, so the characters often surprise me and do completely different things than I wanted them to do. Eventually I’ll settle on one version, depending on how it fits into the larger story, but it’s an extremely non-linear process and it can be very overwhelming.

Tell me about your process. My “process” if it can be called that, is everything that you’re not supposed to do. I’m trying to get better at spending more time writing than I spend being angsty about writing, and I am getting better, but I’m still pretty shit at it. What I do currently is spend several days feeling very itchy and upset about how I don’t have space/time to write - bc I spend time scrolling tumblr instead of writing, bc I don’t actually ask for space to write in my personal life, etc - and then finally break that streak by using writing to procrastinate on something else. And I tend to wait for ~inspiration~ to write, instead of accepting that sometimes you just need to plod through a draft and fix it in post. Also, I can only ever write when my back is literally against the wall or I am cozied up in a way that no one can sneak up on me and see my screen. I think it’s genuinely because people have scared the shit out of me so many times by walking up to me while I’m in hyperfocus mode.

I write everything in google docs, since I can access that on all my devices so it’s a lower activation energy to start, but I’ve been trying out scrivener for a longer project I’m working on, because it organizes everything so neatly. It helps a lot with the multi-draft overwhelm but makes it harder to initiate writing since I have to transfer the files between my home computer and a flashdrive so I can work on them at work.

[stutterfly]

Failure to Communicate

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

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

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

{Rating} Mature - Explicit 

{Word Count} 21K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I- uhh..." You panic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

"My car?"

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

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

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

"You like hamburgers?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please do."

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

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

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

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

Damn, do you ever.

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

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

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

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

"I like you," you blurt out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forgettable.

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

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

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

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Little kids?"

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

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

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

"A lot younger?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

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

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

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

Your yawn says otherwise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Won’t you miss your family?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bro.”

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

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

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

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

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

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

“Jimin—”

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

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

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they the beige ones?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please," you whine.

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

"Okay," you sniffle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

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

"You're on speaker."

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

"Hi Kook," you croak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

"Then I'll beg."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And so much more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[waumpel]

ADHD STUDY TIPS

I have adhd. I'm taking all online classes this semester for college. Somehow, I'm not failing. Here's what I do that works for me!

1. I have an alarm that makes me do math every morning to turn it off, it's called Alarmy! 📚

2. It also plays a different loud sound every day from random-- I have several hundred(?) ringtones downloaded from Zedge, things like songs from shows I like or Pokemon cries or MBMBAM lines, and this helps me wake up to a different sound I'm bound to like which my brain can't get used to (and then ignore). I highly suggest godzilla roars if you need to be startled awake. 📚

3. This is SUPER HARD but I always try to force myself to sit up in bed when I'm turning off my alarm or checking my phone or whatever, so I'm not tempted to pass out again. I also like to get up and loudly tell my cats "good morning" so I wake us both up 📚

4. PLEASE STOP EATING CEREAL AND BAGELS AND STUFF. You would not BELIEVE the difference it makes when you eat things like fruits and eggs in the morning. NO MORE 10AM NAPS, I'M WATCHING YOU 📚

5. I literally schedule in Duolingo time. If you aren't learning a language you can do some other enriching activity like this, idk. I force myself to do it on my computer, not phone, so I can't lay down in bed when I'm doin it. I have a 101-day streak!! 📚

6. ik this isn't available to everyone but SPACE MATTERS SO MUCH!! I got a gaming desk that we put in our living room and I do ALL of my homework there. I also got a second monitor for my laptop with is SOOOO important if you're multitasking (and we all are, bc we're adhders ibdusvcjkn) 📚

7. HAND WRITE YOUR NOTES!!! I know this is super hard for many people-- I have carpal tunnel so I get it lmao. If you can't, at least type them. YOU THINK YOU CAN MEMORIZE INFO BUT YOU'RE WRONG!! Please write as much as you can i swear it will change ur life 📚

8. COLOURED! PENS!!! These changed the game for me y'all. I take all my notes in at least 2 colours, and I cycle through them a lot. My favs are Pilot Frixions because u can erase them :) (the highlighters are epic too) 📚

9. Make your space fun, but NOT DISTRACTING. I have a plant (his name is Yoshi) and a desk Godzilla (his name is Godzilla) on my desk, but they're out of the way so I can't zone out starin at em. But also, when I'm bored outta my gourd, I can smile at Yoshi and tell him how my day is goin :] 📚

10. SNACKING BAD *BUT*... sometimes i do it anyway... i try to associate certain foods with subjects, like I eat cocoa M&Ms (which are awesome) when I'm reading my Kaqchikel textbook. On the upside, I think it helps me recall Kaqchikel better? but also the language makes me crave mnms adkldigurvn 📚

11. LISTEN TO... CERTAIN MUSIC. I have learned that music with words, even in LANGS I DO NOT KNOW, is HELL for my adhd. Right now I'm listening to stuff like "Pokemon and Chill" (lofi album on YT), Studio Ghibli violin covers, and Night on Bald Mountain 5x on repeat ibjnvc.... I highly suggest songs/videos that are, like, 20+ minutes or else you'll get distracted with the constant change. Also, that No One's Around To Help 1hr vid is REALLY REPETITIVE and therefore PERFECT for when I'm reading textbooks. 📚

12.  EVERY NIGHT... i make a super detailed timetable schedule for the next day, down to the half hour. I don't always follow it but it's a really good reminder of what I gotta do. I write it on a whiteboard but sometimes I also write it on a sticky note and on social media so I don't forget. To do lists are so epic you guys 📚

13. THIS HAS SAVED MY L I F E: at the beginning of the semester I looked at ALL of my syllabi and wrote down EVERY daily task, test, homework, etc BY DATE. this is essentially a premade to do list EVERY DAY for MONTHS and oh my gosh it is the best thing I have ever done. 📚

14. I use the Forest app to track my productivity AND lock me out of apps ndsjv... podomoro timers work well too!!! 📚

15. Ok so for me this is like... a religious thing bc my Patron (my God) is a deity of fire AND working, but I like to light a candle (scented like FALL!!) and do a little prayer on it and I have it next to me when I'm workin on terrible, terrible homework. It helps me feel like my Patron is here with me, but also it’s GREAT for grounding and I can just kinda. Stare blankly at the flame and then get back to tryin to focus. 📚

16. Please drink water lmao, to make sure I drink enough I set little goals like "take a sip after every paragraph you read" 📚

17. Each of my classes has a different coloured notebook which I'm consistent with! Like, all my German notebooks through the years have been green! Also I take notes w green pens a lot in Deutsch 📚

18. HELLA STICKY NOTES... I put em on the bottom of my monitor, on a shelf by my desk, in my books as bookmarks (bad idea lol), on Yoshi. When I wanna go look up something random but I need to focus, I like to write it down on sticky notes to look at later. 📚

19. I'm the most annoying student ever. I like to do a bunch of assignments at once so I don't have to budget my time later, so I'll turn in like 5 things in an hour and then NOTHING for a week. ALSO i email my teachers constantly if I have any questions at all. I work at a pace that works for me!!! 📚

20. I turn off my sound on my phone until I'm done with work bc otherwise I WILL open that notification 📚

22. I make a loooot of chai (and also some overpriced herbal teas). It makes me feel fancy, it's better for me than coffee, and it helps me ground and focus! Plus it's a samefood! 📚

23. Hyperfixating on classic literature would be awesome, except I'm hyperfixating on Gothic and I'm taking a lit class for More Than Just Gothic. But I'm figuring out ways to connect them, which is really helpful, cause I get to enjoy my hyperfixation while learning for school! PLZ TRY TO DO THIS (harder when you're hyperfixating on godzilla :pensivecowboy:) 📚

21. When I have extra time I write my notes like I'm plannin to put em on Tumblr and taggin em as #darkacademia... I never post my notes, but when they look nice it's easier for me to look over em later. Plus it takes me longer to write so I remember it a lil better!! 📚

24. I'm in an awesome academia + studyspo server!! We sometimes study together on call and it's SUCH a good motivator! Here's an invite link if u wanna join, we are nice https://discord.gg/fjuX7TN (this wasn’t meant to be a promo post I just really like this group lol) 📚

OK I hope that helps!!! Feel free to add more if you have any tips that work for you :) Neurotypicals, feel free to RB respectfully!

(pics are: syllabus list, daily schedule, Yoshi the plant, and some fancy notes)

[skygemspeaks]

✏🎶 📝 !!! and also 🐶 bc i'll take any opportunity to hear about rayleigh haha

✏ a random fact about myself is that i'm left-handed, and it runs in my family. i got it from my mom, who got it from her dad! one not so nice story that i feel like i may have mentioned before on this blog is that when i was in kindergarten and just learning how to write, my teacher saw that i was writing with my left hand, and she called in my mom for a meeting where she asked her "would you like us to fix her". lol when i tell you my mother was FURIOUS at this teacher

the next two emojis were answered in a previous ask, so let's get on to the part we're all really interested in lolw:

🐶 lol as you've already mentioned, my dear, i do indeed have a kitty and his name is Rayleigh! Named after the Dark King of the Roger Pirates, Silvers Rayleigh, because I'm one piece trash. he's an older boy (ten this year!!!!) and he's special needs, which was actually one of the reasons i wanted to adopt him in the first place - because older and special needs pets tend to have a harder time getting adopted, and by the time my adoption of him went through, the rescue told me that two other families had already applied to adopt him but both had ended up backing out :( i got him last year when my family moved to a new house where we would have enough room for a pet, and i am not exaggerating in the least when i say that in the month leading up to the move, i was religiously checking petfinder every day, looking for what cat i would want to adopt. and maybe it's a bit sappy to say, but i remember that as soon as i saw rayleigh's picture, i immediately started crying and knew that i wanted him. in fact i'm pretty sure i still have a screenshot of his petfinder post saved to my computer. i love him dearly, and i can't believe it's already been almost a year! his gotcha day is going to be on april 17, and i'm thinking of splurging a bit to get him a fancy new cat tree or bed or something. if anyone's interested in seeing more posts about my boy, check the tag 'my ray of sunshine' on my blog, and also feel free to follow me on my insta, under the same name as my tumblr url, because that account is basically dedicated to him now lol.

[ih8paris]

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake. 

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning. 

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this. 

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER. 

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning. 

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar  with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.  

[themilky-way]

paris {s.r}

gif credit: sincerelycalum on tumblr

pairing: spencer reid x female! reader

summary: while working on a case in paris, you and spencer realize that there may be more to your friendship than you think. how long until the city of love casts a spell on you? based on this song.

warnings: none i think it’s just fluff  (like everything I write lol)

author’s note:  this long af bc this was supposed to be a series and this would’ve been the second part but the first one i posted didn’t do well lmao. so instead, just enjoy this one shot and maybe i’ll post the first one again if u guys want but idk. also we a lil bold in this fic bc we love confident queens

grabbing your go bag and cell phone from the charging port, you quickly made your way to the jet that was already waiting for departure. the team was ready to make their way to paris, france on a case for a serial killer that migrated from california. it had been difficult for everyone, considering the unsub wasn’t leaving much evidence. 

despite it being for work, you and the team were excited to explore one of the most beautiful cities in the world. if you thought about it, it was kind of like killing two birds with one stone: the opportunity to finally catch a gruesome killer and a vacation. morgan was practically shaking with anticipation as he kept getting up from his seat and bothering garcia every five minutes and then going back. 

“just think about it, baby, all the smokin’ hot people we’re gonna meet. I mean, it’s called the “city of love” for a reason!” derek rambled to penelope as she typed away rapidly on her computer. 

“this isn’t a vacation, sugar, but yes I’m aware of all the potential babes we might encounter. and for that, I prepared another bag,” she giggled as derek started to laugh along with her. he raised his hand to high five her and she lifted hers too, lightly patting it. 

“oh you’re bad bad aren’t you,” he laughed, and they both continued to talk too rapidly for the others to understand. meanwhile, you had grabbed your seat next to emily and right across from you was spencer. you and emily were talking about god knows what, the range going from guessing the types of desserts paris had to perhaps renting a motorcycle for your stay. the banter between the both of you was endless, and you even started watching a french movie to get some pointers on the language. 

between the jokes and wondering remarks, you didn’t really notice that spencer was observing you the whole time. sure, he could play it off as if he were judging both of his coworkers for their lack of knowledge on french culture and linguistics, but he wasn’t really doing that, was he? no, in fact, he was watching you in such depth, the way he’d look at the pages of a book, and taking in every aspect that you had to present. he was, in the most simplest way it can be described as, mesmerized.

the day spencer realized that he looked at you this way shocked him. to be completely honest, it scared the hell out of him. he never pictured you as anything more than a friend, and he always thought you were too relaxed for a job like this. he told himself that he’d leave the matter alone, that their would be no thinking or second-guessing of any kind. but the second he’d lay his eyes on you, it’s like the rules he made up never quite existed. however, the more he looked back on it, there was one question that urged this matter forward: am I gonna find out why?

he shook out of his deep concentration to look up at the voice that was now speaking to him. his eyes focused again and he stared at you confused.

“reid, you okay? you’re spacing out on me, buddy,” you said, head turned slightly from the position you were seated in. you had shifted in your seat to face emily, your left leg bent on the cushion and your right giving you stability on the ground. 

“sorry, I was busy thinking.”

“well, try not to use that big ol’ brain of yours too much yet, we’re gonna need it when we land,” you said, giving him a small wink. he gave you a small smile while a tiny smear of rose-colored blush crept its way onto his cheeks. it was a friendly gesture; everyone on the team did it so you thought, “why the hell not?”

reid opted to read a little bit while on the plane so that he could get in some new interrogating tactics for when they met the unsub. you and emily continued to watch french movies and spot all of the hot actors and actresses you thought would be fake, penny and morgan, well they were on a whole different level of fun. the only ones quiet and doing some work was hotch, jj, and rossi. 

the plane slowly began to descend, butterflies erupting in your stomach from the fall, before the captain announced, “we are now ready to descend and are getting ready for arrival.”

when the captain finished, hotch began, “alright, listen up, team. the location of this case was by chance and we shouldn’t get distracted by anything or anyone. do your job quickly and efficiently as you’ve always had.” he spoke sternly, his shoulders were straight and his face emotionless and heavy with sleep. to any other person, hotch would be a zombie who helped solve murder cases, but to the bau team, he was their leader and they admired him. 

“oh, come on, hotch! if we work extra hard these few days and have enough time by the end of the wee-” you began before getting cut off. 

“yes, we can stay a while and explore the city. the unsub and the evidence altogether looks promising, so hopefully we can wrap it up quick. but don’t stray from your path in the meantime.”

everybody nodded and “yes, sir’d” before standing up and grabbing their luggage from the compartments at the top of their seats. everyone walked out in pairs and headed for the taxi cars that were waiting for them. you took emily, morgan took reid, jj and penelope partnered up, and of of course rossi and hotchner stuck together. at different paces, the team agreed at a nearby hotel closest to the paris police department that had called them. getting your bags in the car, along with the rest of the girls’, you made your way to the hotel to check in and drop your luggage off.

at first glance, it looked like a simple building; a cream color adorning the walls and some very intricate, sophisticated street lamps aligned on the perimeter of the parking entrance. before entering, there was a sort of roundabout you had to pass in order to reach to valet parking, and in the center of the roundabout, was a water fountain. it was simple, yes, but to parisians only. to outsiders, like the bau, it was already quite elegant. the ladies, including you, pitched in a little to pay for the ride and once you got out, there was a young man who offered to take your bags inside. 

“avez-vous besoin d'aide, madame?” the boy said. all of you looked at each other a little confused because even though you thought it might’ve helped, watching french movies for nine hours with emily wasn’t doing it. 

“he’s asking if you need help with these. here,” penny clarified before putting her tiny hello kitty handbag in yours, “let me handle it.”

she walked up to the somewhat tall boy, looked him over once, and said in the thickest french accent there was, “oui je fais mon doux muffin merci beaucoup.” she did a tiny hair flip to her blonde curls and came back to where the rest of you were standing.

“penny, uh, what exactly did you tell that boy?” emily said, stifling down a small giggle.

“nothing, i just said “yes” that I needed help and “thank you very much.”

“no, no, the other part. there must’ve been another part to it. tell us!” jj said, grabbing penelope by the shoulders and shaking them lightly. 

“what other part?”

“the one where you made a boy dressed in victorian era clothing blush like a maniac over some luggage,” you laughed. to this, garcia started to laugh too and then even harder. you and the rest of the girls had puzzled grins on their faces, but the inkling of seeing your friend laugh so hard was reaching your guys’ throats too. 

when she finally caught a breath to speak, she said, “I called him my sweet muffin!” at this, you and the girls broke into heaves of laughter, and couldn’t stop. you and jj had to bend down and place a hand on your stomachs’ to stop them from hurting a little. after a while, there was no words just the intake of small breaths and exhaling them out for control. when the fun comedy was over, you guys followed the boy and his friend inside the hotel lobby. `you took turns registering, and when you were all done, you saw that the rest of the team had beat you to it. they were sitting down in a cushion area near the front desk and were waiting for you guys. 

“okay, now that the rooms are ready, you all can pick a partner to dorm with. it doesn’t really matter, but just choose wisely. I know some people get too crazy when they’re together,” hotch announced, flashing a look at you and garcia before handing out keys. you and emily teamed up per usual, and the rest pairing up in the same order they had been in before. once everyone was ready, you started to make your way up to your rooms while making small chatter with the rest of the gang. emily inserted the key into the lock of the door, and as soon she opened the door, your eyes’ were met with the most delicate and luxurious room you both have ever encountered. 

on either side of the room were two king sized beds with victorian style bed sheets; the design on them were floral, the pastel shades of the roses tracing the outline of the bed beautifully. the ends of the sheets were long, but shabby, which added a nice, elegant, and almost romantic feel to it. 

in the middle of the two beds was a small isle that allowed one person to walk on it at a time. at the end of it, was the entrance to the balcony, which gave view to the famed Eiffel Tower. the small cities, parks, and lakes, that made up the ground portion of the tower were now completely lit up, giving way to an entire new feeling for you. you set your bags on the bed, pushing the cushion down with your hand to feel the softness of it, and made way to the balcony.

“i’ll be right out here, em, if you need me,” you said, waiting for the small “yup” that came from her before proceeding. as soon as your leg crossed the small threshold to the other side, the fresh, cool breeze of the night flooded your senses. you smiled and took in the emotion it gave you, fully crossing over to stand against the railing now. you took in the sights first. the trees that shaped the parks swiveled against the current of the wind, couples of all ages walking hand in hand, admiring how the moon and the stars matched so well to their love. the lights of the tower gleaming brightly and almost seemingly looking at you, as if they asked you, “don’t you realize, (y/n)? don’t you pay attention?” 

paris, and everything it was offering you at that moment, put you through a trance. one where you began to actually speak to the lights, the very same ones that millions of others had fallen in love under. “realize what? I do pay attention, i always have, but what is it I need to notice?”

you kept staring and looking around, if the lights actually were talking to you and this wasn’t a dream, and that you weren’t crazy. you looked around the balcony and walked on it to spy a tiny clue your instincts informed you about. soon enough, you noticed that the balcony was shared by the room next door. you placed your right hand on the rail to kneel down a bit and see if you could figure out who the room belonged to.  

“maybe it’s penny, oh god please be penny. i’m not in the mood to see rossi in scooby-doo underpants...” you whispered fairly. just when you saw a dainty silhouette about to exit the restroom, you turned around to your end of the balcony. 

“(y/n)? are you spying on- (y/n), we’ve been here one hour! our hot, paris boyfriends can wait until we catch the unsub,” emily, whose head was the only part of her body on the outside of the balcony, whispered. “come on, get changed into some comfy clothes. we can take a look at the victimology together.”

standing up, you made one quick glance at the room and the figure was already gone and so was the light. thanks for that, eiffel tower lights, you thought. you crossed to you room again and took a shower before arranging your clothes according to the days of your stay. you put your pajamas on and climbed onto one side of emily’s bed to wait for her to come out of the restroom, since you guys took turns brushing your teeth. 

after about a half and hour of rearranging victimology statements and connecting photos from the crime scene, the both of you were ready to go to sleep. emily turned off her lights and you took one last glance at the view before doing the same. 

and then you heard footsteps on your balcony. 

----------

“you guys think I can woo a french girl tonight?”

“honey, with those shoes? not a chance,” garcia pointed out. morgan made a pout at her response and then acted as if he was offended. the team laughed and then raised their glass in unison and took a sip. the case, overall, went well. you guys managed to catch the unsub in an isolated tunnel and brought him over to the parisian authorities. you and jj had taken the only victim left alive to the station to make one final statement to the news. the rest of bodies were given proper burial and the families were finally given closure. 

because the team had performed beyond excellent, and there were still a few days left before your departure, the team opted on celebrating on a night out. currently, you and your friends were seated around a small circular table inside a local bar, chatting away at whatever came to mind. 

you chose to only drink mineral water, mostly because you knew that you were technically still at work and you didn’t want to risk being drunk in case of an emergency. reid, in a similar manner, chose a glass of soda to toast with. but while doing so, he found himself looking at you in the same way he did on the plane. he hadn’t been able to take in your features that night, but as everyone was so deeply distracted, he began to notice everything. 

he looked over your outfit for tonight, a red, plaid mini skirt with a black turtleneck. the shirt itself was fitted to your body and allowed your angles and curves to be accentuated perfectly. the skirt permitted your legs to be highlighted in a decent, and elegant manner. your hair was loose tonight, and with every breeze that made its way through the bar windows, it caused small strands to caress your face lightly and some to stick to your lip gloss. the heels, oh god, the heels. it drove him crazy; the delicate way in which they clicked when you walked on the concrete, how they would sometimes cause you discomfort and force you to stop and fix it,  how your gentle hand had grasp his shoulder for balance or else you’d fall. 

everything about you tonight was immaculate. no matter how hard he forced himself to look away from you, to stop thinking of you in any other way than a coworker, and to just drink his soda which was becoming less carbonated with every passing second, he just couldn’t. and it was scaring the hell out of him. 

you on the other hand, were still trying to decipher what the tower lights had asked you. what was there to realize? you were here, in paris, the city where millions of people fall in love, to fight a serial killer. the chances of you finding love, especially on a balcony where you had spied on a stranger, were slim. 

by the time you finished your thought process, you noticed that hotch was looking at you with a puzzled expression. 

“everything alright, (y/n)?” he softly asked you. 

“yes, sir, just thinking. is it okay if I head back to my hotel?”

“yes, of course, you might even catch reid on the way there. he left a couple of minutes ago.”

“thank you, sir. good night,” you spoke and got up from your chair, adjusting your skirt as you did so. huh, he left? weird, you thought. you left a tip for the waiter and bid farewell to the rest of your companions before grabbing your coat and clutch and exiting the bar. 

it was rather close to your hotel, so within a few minutes you had reached your dorm and set your things down. sitting down on the edge of the bed, you bent over slightly to unlatch your heels and slip them off your feet. you set them aside and you laid on your back for a few minutes. the only light in your room was the bathroom’s as you didn’t like strong lights shining during the night, so these dimmed ones would do. 

you closed your eyes for a little while and just let the sounds of the city flow through you. you had one opportunity to experience paris, and you weren’t gonna take it for granted. for a while, only your small inhales and exhales of breath were audible, the aura of the room peaceful. 

it wasn’t until you heard footsteps, the very same ones from that other night, on your balcony. your eyes flew open and you pushed your body upward to look back at your window. this is my shot, my chance, you thought. could it be a super old man who was here on vacation? yes. could it rossi, who might’ve gotten the dorm next to yours? maybe. were the possibilities of who the hell was on your balcony in a parisian hotel endless? again, yes. 

but you had to see for yourself, figure out what exactly the universe, paris, was telling you. so you got up from your bed and creeped quietly to the window and slid it up. you crossed the threshold, and even though your light was limited, you were able to make out a tall, thin figure. you inched a little closer, hands crossed over your chest to appear somewhat like a normal human. you wouldn’t have figured it out until he spoke. 

“(y/n)?”

his voice sent shivers down every inch of your body, and no, it wasn’t the cold air of the city, it was him. it was spencer. it caught you by surprise, the feeling his voice gave you, but you tried to play it off. he never made you feel this way, why now? 

“(y/n)? you okay?” he spoke again. this time you lightly shook your head and walked closer to where he was standing so you could lean on the railing now. his body followed yours, and now you were able to make out the perpexled look on his eyes. 

“hi, yeah, I’m good. just didn’t expect to find you here, that’s all,” you spoke quietly, unsure of yourself. he noticed, obviously he noticed, it’s spencer. 

“yeah, same here. I heard footsteps the other night here but I had just taken a shower so I didn’t come out until later.” you glanced up at him when you realized that he was the figure that was in the restroom you’d seen. the one you had spied on and probably would’ve seen naked if emily hadn’t interrupted. a tiny blush made its way onto your cheeks, and you were quite thankful the dark covered the rosy color a little. 

but spencer wasn’t dumb, much less stupid, and if he noticed every little detail about you tonight, he saw how you became around him. and god, he sure did like it. “oh, well that’s good, i guess,” was all you could mutter. so you turned your body now to face the tower, elbows on the railing and hands folded together. he saw the shift in stance and he followed, so now you were both side by side and looking at a view that somehow resembled your emotions for one another. 

“hey spence?”

“yeah?”

“have you ever fallen in love?”

his voice hitched a little and he felt his throat tighten. he let out a small cough to mask the impact of your question, but he found the strength in his voice to retort.

“what makes you ask?”

“no, no reason, i was just curious, ya know. being in paris and all,” you answered. you began to feel intrusive for asking such a personal question, but it had seemed easy for you to do so because of your friendship. you were looking at him as you replied, but then looked back towards the view again. the both of you stood in silence for a couple minutes, your guilt seeping in more at this point. 

“only once. it didn’t end well for the both of us,” he broke the silence. you turned your head to look at him, and you were about to open your mouth to say something when he spoke again. 

“but it happened a long time ago. i don’t think about her anymore.”

you straightened up a little and you continued to face him, prying a little deeper than you should be. “so who do you think about now?”

he glanced at you, his face quickly returning back to the nature displayed in front of him and then looked back to you. a small grin began tugging at his lips, as if he meant to ask, “is this your way of playing with me?”

you gazed up at him and took this sudden swerve of confidence to glance at his lips, and then back up to him, your own smile forming. 

“she’s standing on a balcony with me in paris.” 

[theartoflivingalways]

i’ve been awake for over 24 hours

I haven’t been on tumblr in years. i stopped using it after high school, but I don’t know why. but now I’m back tonight, because I needed someone to talk to, but I have no one to listen. i have friends, i have family, i have a boyfriend. i have a therapist. but no matter what: i feel so unheard, so unseen, and so ignored by everyone in my life that i literally feel like i have no one to truly turn to. for anything. so, here i am. hope i get a warm welcome!!!

here’s the thing: i’m NOT a depressed person. i’m not sad, i don’t have any major mental health issues apart from anxiety and some adhd. and before you take that the wrong way, please don’t. i just got my master’s degree in social work and i’ll be starting my new job as a therapist in a couple of weeks.

but, i’m also NOT a happy person. tbh, i can’t really describe my overall ~mood~ or whatever you wanna call it. i kinda just wake up and survive the day, every day. i take it one day at a time ... kinda like what AA says to do; but no, before you ask or the thought crosses your mind, i’m not an addict. at least not a alcohol/other drugs addict ??? sorry

maybe this is why there’s no one to listen when i need them to. i fucking ramble about literally nothing before getting to the point. 

it’s weird that i’m writing right now (ok, typing???). i haven’t done this since i was little. it feels good to do this, to have some sort of outlet when you feel so fucking unseen and unheard by every. single. person. around you. 

so i haven’t slept in over 24 hours. it’s my own fault for sure and i have adderall to thank for that (yes i’m prescribed). i decided to start a blog again because i’m sitting here, still wide awake in my apartment, alone, while my boyfriend is sound asleep in my bedroom.

so what’s my fucking problem??? why do i want someone to talk to?? i don’t know honestly. i just feel like lately all i do is listen to others, help others, give myself completely to others. and in return, i get nothing. nothing even close to what i give, or to what i’m capable of giving. which is sad. not for me particularly (maybe?), but for others, yes, i think so. 

i’m not saying that i expect anything in return for helping others, because i don’t. i didn’t enter the field of social work for the fucking money. and i know a lot of fucked up shit is going on in the world right now, and in no way do i want to minimize ANY of that. i’m just feeling a little lost and lonely, so i’m hoping this is a new outlet for me to sort out those feelings.

the last couple of hours, i’ve had a LONG string of thoughts. if you read through, you’ll eventually found out how they started. but one of the things i’ve been wrestling with in my mind is the type of person i am. 

you see, it’s difficult to be “that” person for others your whole life, especially all the fucking time. if you’re anything like me, you know what i mean by that. and if you aren’t anything like me, well, first of all congrats!!!!, and secondly, i’ll explain what i mean.

when you’re “that” person for others, like myself, it’s easy for other people to walk all over you. take advantage of you, take you for granted, expect you to ALWAYS be there no matter the cost. and of course, why wouldn’t they? you’re always there to help. you’re ALWAYS there to offer support, guidance, and advice. you’re nurturing. you listen. you’re a fucking irreplaceable, loyal to death friend. if you’re VERY much like me, you’re also the one person in your family who isn’t a total fuck up (at least not publicly?)

you’re also nonjudgmental, and you were blessed with the curse of being empathic towards others at all times. empathy of course is beautiful and a very good thing to have in this life, but do you know how hard it is to feel for every single person around you.. and not have anyone feel for you???? damn

also, you never let anyone down!! ever. you’re reliable, dependable, trustworthy to the point where it’s almost sketchy because like??? who can be that way to everyone else at all times? you guessed it- people like me and people like u!! (if this is even semi-relatable, i’m sorry) 

but people like us, like you, like me, tend to do this thing where we keep the same shitty fucking toxic people around that have hurt us, continue to hurt us both indirectly and directly, and who have let us down time and time again, because we continue clinging on to the fucking useless hope that “someday they’ll change”. someday, they’ll realize how fucking important you are to them and how shitty their lives are, and would be, without you in it.

you- we - also live by honesty and truthfulness, and assume others just live by this as well. but then you’re proved wrong over and over and over again, yet you never fucking learn your lesson because you are STILL hopeful that somewhere, somehow, deep down, other people DO stand by the morals you try so hard to stand by in life. most of the time, though, you’re completely avoiding the reality of other people and their experiences and who they really are, only to try to fit your own narrative of how you see things and how you think things should be. 

if this sounds anything like you... i’m sorry. i know it all too well. 

i grew up as the “golden child” in my family. not just my immediate family. my entire fucking family. the pressure to be perfect has lead me to develop debilitating anxiety in my 20′s, and it is what it is, but like, why the fuck couldn’t i have anxiety in high school like a normal teenager? why now? 

so yeah my anxiety’s pretty bad. it’s pretty bad tonight, which is why i turned here. to tumblr. to try to write out my thoughts. which, by the way, i’m sorry, because this is an absolute fucking mess and makes no sense. if you are reading this, though, thank you. thank you for listening when no one else seems to.

anyway. growing up with the pressure of being *perfect* has a cost. at least for me it did: 1) anxiety of course, and 2) perfectionist tendencies. these have literally- LITERALLY - ruined my entire college and graduate school experience. perfectionism combined with anxiety is a recipe for fucking disaster, and i’ve been cooking it for years.

i am deliberately writing this without proper punctuation/grammer/whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit, not capitalizing my letters etc., because i want to not have to be so perfect all the time on here, if this is something i’m going to stick to.  i know that sounds silly but it’s actually been very difficult for me to write in all lower-caps and i’m very worried that no one will even read this and HEAR ME because of my literacy negligence (i have no idea if that’s even a real thing or if it even has meaning but it sounded right)

do u want to know why i decided to write this though, truly? what lead to me feeling like i’m “spiraling” - apart from no sleep in over 24 hours now? well, get ready to laugh, because i truly think i’m pathetic and going crazy.

i went to dinner tonight with my boyfriend and his fam. our waitress was a girl i used to know years ago in high school. my boyfriend knew her too. in fact, he knew her VeRY well. for the sake of my anxious overthinking, i don’t feel like going too much into the details of *that* situation, so thanks in advance for understanding.

anyway. this corny bitch made a joke about the current political environment. i won’t say what exactly, because i’d really like to keep my identity as concealed as absolutely possible on here. but long story short, no one really laughed - every one just kinda smiled awkwardly. but you know who did laugh? my boyfriend :) 

TO ME, it seemed intentional. she wasn’t fucking funny, for one. she made a bad - no, a very bad- joke. like one of those corny dad jokes. not even a dad joke actually. a step-dad joke, except your step-dad is a loser that you hate, who treats ur mom/dad bad, has no sense of humor or a horrible sense of humor and idk, just fucking sucks you know ???

sorry that got kinda dark and it was unnecessary but do u know what i mean??? and no, that was literally not relevant to me or my family system/structure in any way. just kinda came to me, ya know? ...writing works in mysterious ways man

alright so if you don’t agree, that’s fine. i already told you to get ready to laugh, because i am well aware of how insane i fucking sound. but you know what makes anxiety & perfectionism 100x harder to cope with? insecurities. and i’m FULL of them. 

so anyway. we left dinner. him & i were driving home. i will admit that i did have some wine at dinner, and i wasn’t drunk but i definitely was feeling cocky enough to stir the pot with him. so, i casually said, “hey... didn’t you date _____?” *insert annoying waitress’s name who i knew once upon a time*

i said it very calmly. very coooool. v collected and nice. he said “no? i’ve never even talked to or hungout with that girl”.

i wish u could see my face as i’m writing this right now bc i cannnot. like i gave u a choice.... the opportunity. tHE SIMPLE opportunity - a chance - to be fucking honest................................

this dude. straight up. lied to my face. about this fucking girl. ???????

YEARS AGO, they most certainly did talk. a lot. in fact, my crAZy ass searched their names on facebook to find their old little love notes to each other that they posted on each others’ walls. which were very cringey but nothing that made me feel jealous or insecure (for once). after all, they were from years ago- i’m talking 5+ - so likeeee.... why would he lie (: 

oh and they definitely did hang out because.... i remember clearly.... a PICTURE OF THE two of them *together* *hangin* (prob bangin too) (sorry) years ago in this now-waitress’s bedroom. i believe it was a ~webcam photo~ that they took on the new mac computer her parents prob bought her. so this photo is now NO WHERE to be found. and believe me, i looked. no, i LURKED. i went to the beginnnning of her instagram posts and deep into her uploaded facebook pictures. ok, not ‘deep’, i literally got to the first pic she ever posted on FB just to try to find this damn picture. and it took me for. fucking. ever. because this bitch has prolly posted a million pictures in the last 5+ years like who does that???

but i swear to fucking whatever the fuck that this picture exists. i have fucking seen it. i’d describe it in perfect detail right now as if i saw it today, but, once again, i’m concealin my identity, yo, so i can’t do all that. v sorry

anywho. this dude - who i call my boyfriend (and yes i love him very very much and our past is absolutely fucked but that’s a whole other story for a very different time) - had the nerve, the audacity, to tell me to my face, that he “definitely doesn’t have a picture with her” because “they’ve never hung out or talked before” ... ?!??????

obv i sent him screenshots of the dirt i dug up on facebook from 5+ years ago (i.e., the old posts between them in case ya forgot during my rambling) bc like, caught ya in a lie sir. red handed.

i might be late on mentioning this part, but here’s the fucking kicker (and i’ve never used that phrase and i don’t know why i said that but ok?): TODAY, for the first time in MONTHS, literally!!!, bc of the virus and the quarantine and all that, i got ready today for dinner with his family. like actually got ready. i spent HOURS doing my make up. i don’t even remember the last time i did my make up, ok. i dressed in a really cute outfit. i felt fucking very good about myself. i thought for sure when he’d come pick me up to go to dinner he’d at least say something. at least acknowledge it. he has literally only seen me in raw form for too many days now. like, complete bare face and sweat pants basically every day since march.

but. did he even look at me twice?!!? no. did he mention anything about how i looked? how it was drastically different from my everyday attire the last couple months? did he take 2 seconds out of his day to say something corny or flirty to me? even just, “you look beautiful”??? honestly i would’ve even appreciated, “you look beautiful, for once” ???

did u guess the correct answer? well if u didn’t, it’s N O.

but u know who he did look at twice.

our waitress at dinner.

(: 

i think i wrote enough for one night. if u think this is my anxiety/perfectionism/insecurities combination spiraling out of control after being tamed incessantly for 20+ years, PLZ TELL ME.

but also, if you have a fucking brain, you’d know that:

1) this is definitely NOT the first time i’ve responded to something like this the way i did, and 

2) i really just needed to ramble on and vent about all the shit that’s been going through my mind the last 2 1/2 hours, so there’s that.

have a good night get some sleep!!! thank u for ur time. 

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

a few things to know since I’ve be away for a few days: 

(if you wish to read then please by all means; it’s all under the cut!) 

1) to those who have been patiently awaiting for more ‘hey, my alien’, i’ll have to ask for you to wait a little longer.  It’s not a shock to anyone that i’m garbo when it comes to routine anything lol.  If you’ve visited my wip pages within the past day you’ll see that it is on a mini hiatus and for many reasons.  

2) i have a story that has to remain a mystery for BangtanIDX as its going to be part of their prompt exchange at the end of the month. I was given a prompt and an au addition I haven’t really written for before and it’s getting under my skin that I’ve had my prompt for almost 2 weeks and still haven’t been able to think of a good enough story line. and the deadline it has is taking a lot of my mental power

3) i’ve been active more on other sm recently to support the blm movements so tumblr hasn’t been my focus as of late (but i’m back on now dw). my small lil hole in the wall town did a peace rally to support blm 3 days ago so i was previously busy preparing for that. 

4) i have other projects and stories i’m working on as well and i’m finally getting back into the swing of things after i released P&S.  I realized it was just posted 5 days ago, but i had it finished before posting by about 3 days and since then I haven’t been able to write the way i want to.  Everything feels just awful to me, so i’ve spent some time away from the computer to try and figure out how to write to my own liking again (its a struggle, but we’re getting there) 

5) after this last week of a writing de-tox i’m doing better.  being more open and speaking up about what i believe in has helped me in ways i didn’t know it would.  it made me realized that keeping to himself about matters wasn’t helping anyone, especially me. in regards to that, i’m also trying to pick myself up from some more personal issues, but we won’t open that box lol

6) also my sister has been visiting me for the past week so i’ve been hanging out with her more before she leaves back home and i’ve been digging myself in work to try and get a decent paycheck (which was still bad) bc money is getting harder to earn recently oof 

all in all, this is a lil psa of where i’ve been and a lil heads up to what i’ll be doing and what i’m currently trying to get worked out bc i’ve been away for a hot minute.  

I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe.  If you’re protesting please wear as much safety gear as possible and turn off location on your phone if you bring it to record how injustice the police force can be (if you can get away with it, leave it at home turned off- others with phones will always get what needs to be recorded!) Remember not to wear contacts and use glasses if possible. shin guards and palm guards are good to have under jackets or sweaters if you worried about brutality.  And dont be afraid to go out and protest for our poc bc everyone protesting beside you will protect you. our beautiful and wonderful poc deserve so much more than they’ve been getting <3 

and for those on my page who don’t support blm for whatever disgusting reason, i implore you to unfollow me immediately. don’t inbox me to argue, just unfollow me. i won’t engage with your toxic mindset. I won’t stand for anyone to think they’re so important that they shame and think people of a different skin color deserve less.  If anything, they deserve more and one way or another, they will get their freedom. 

I love you guys! Stay safe, be happy and take care of yourselves!!! <3 

[l-loneybun]

♡ 2019 Art Summary + updates/plans for 2020

(25/01) sorry for the late update,, I meant to post this on the 1st,, but,, stuff happened;; u_u

TLDR: I’m going on hiatus. I’ll also be privating a lot of my posts here if they’re text posts, or art I just don’t like. I really want this blog to look like a proper portfolio for when I come back;; Probably won’t be back until May or even later,, might go fuq off to a new account just to see how well I can do on my own for a bit,, Ty for support + have a nice year~ _______________________________________________________________

*big sigh I have to rewrite a lot of this bc my computer died and I was to stupid to draft this before*

So basically, this year’s art summary is surprisingly better than last year’s. I didn’t really notice since I’ve actually been feelin p shit about my progress until I put this together. Definitely more variation in style compared to 2018 (can’t believe I said that “I got to experiment a lot” that year haha guess I was really grasping). The second half of this is pretty much just me going over my 2019 (not just art), so feel free to stop reading here!! Thanks for all the new support, I hope you all have a good 2020. _______________________________________________________________ This is just me really wanting to vent/express my thoughts somewhere, and I just find tumblr the most comfortable place to do that since it’s sort of more hidden and people don’t really read personal posts!! So here we gooooo

I can’t really remember most of January - April, just that I was really stressed about not finishing a portfolio for one of my classes hgjfkdls,, I also quit my job near the end of April since management changed for the worse;; Little did I know how it’s harder to get a job while unemployed,, (seriously what’s up with that?? I get that many people need to work 2+ jobs,, but I would like to live too;; qxq) So I gave up on looking for work, since I didn’t think anyone would want to hire me if I would be gone for over a month right in the middle of summer.

May - June consisted of trying to generate enough art pieces to meet my 1 piece per 5 days art schedule. I also started to fall out of the FE fandom while really getting in to Sonic again. I’m pretty sure I wanted to draw a lot of Pokemon and Zelda fanart as well,, but I was (and still am) at the point where I hate my human art, and being able to draw Sonic art — which I'm more comfortable with — was just much more appealing;; uxu I feel more familiar with these characters, and so many creative ideas just come to be (other than memes, like my FE stuff).

From August onward, though,, I just feel like things turned for the worse. I had (what I would assume was) my first panic attack during my exchange program. It’s feels so fucking pathetic that this would happen at 20 years old;; I thought I was so much better off compared to middle/high school when it came to keeping my anxiety in check, bu t guess not,, ahhahhahhahah,,,, and it wouldn’t be the only one this year;; :’)

I still wouldn’t have found a job after my return, but would still have enough money to pay off my first semester with some left over. Unfortunately, due to vet bills, I wouldn’t have enough to pay for a full course load for my second semester. This was also due to some poor planning on my part regarding commissions/adopts,, so oop;; I’m only taking one course this sem, so I’m looking for full-time work, but damn ! ! no job ! ! esp sucks since my mom is the only one paying for things atm;; soooo great

ugh;; I don’t want to talk about this anymore,, so I’ll just go onto plans/bucket list for 2020/2021, since I keep forgetting:: _______________________________________________________________

If you didn’t read the TLDR, basically I’m taking a break from all my art accounts and such. Even though I can see a lot of improval from 2018-2019, I’m still disappointed in my lack of anatomy/technical skills in my art, especially since I believe I told myself I would improve last year;; So I’m going to try avoid going online as much as possible since it’s really just too distracting,, I really want to dedicate all the time I have now to improving/adopting new skills, so my bucket list/new year’s resolutions for 2020 will be:

Improving human anatomy/developing a good artstyle for human art

Developing assets for RPG Maker XP games (???) (I actually forgot about the pkmn one I started in 2018 until I looked through my archive. I don’t think I’m actually going to make any playable games, just some nice things to look at.)

Learning how to use Blender + making many plant assets

Creating designs/inventory to sell at an anime convention for 2021

Saving up for a Canon EOS M50 Mirrorless Camera to document Artist Alley experience

Becoming ~ambidextrous~

That’s all I can remember for now, but I’m sure I’m forgetting some,,, um,, thanks if you read this for far?? I don’t really have much more to say;; ,,,,,, bye :x

[cchilyoja]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by:   tagged by the always wonderful @foxcharmed tagging:    anyone that follows me, sees this on their dash & wants to do it :)

MY MUSE IS:   canon / oc / au / slightly canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated.

IS YOUR CHARACTER POPULAR IN THE FANDOM?   YES / NO. Well, he is the main character of the show, but seeing as there’s only me & @legcndreportr that write character from the show, I’d say, the RP fandom for it is tiny, but I think a lot of people that watch dramas like the show & the characters.

IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED HOT™ IN THE FANDOM?   YES / NO / IDK. [ I mean, he’s played by Ji Chang Wook, I mean, obviously yes. Have you seen just how many fan JCW blogs there are on this site? Understandable. Honestly, and truly.  ]

IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED STRONG IN THE FANDOM?   YES / NO / IDK. [ I’d say he’s very skilled & flawed. There are many things that he can do, many things that he is good at, but the slew of both traumatic and just plain shitty things that had happened to him over the early years of his childhood, combined with HUGE abandonment issues that he has never really dealt with. All of that can make certain mundane things a lot harder than any 007 stuff that he sometimes does. ]

ARE THEY UNDERRATED?   YES / NO / IDK. [ I think, even though I love the character, obv been RPing him for years. I hate that people don’t STAN the other characters as much, especially the other main female characters that are just as interesting, complex and worth loving. But alas that is the world we live in. ]

WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN STORY?   YES / NO,he is the main story, if you know what I mean. But no, seriously, he is the main character. 

WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN CHARACTER?   YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [ Yeah, but tbh, I find it that in the show, the two main characters are equally sorted in the first place, Jung-hoo is nothing without Young-shin. There would be no development, no revelation about his life, childhood and interesting complex storytelling and showing without her.  ]

ARE THEY WIDELY KNOWN IN THEIR WORLD?   YES / NO. [ One would assume that I should put YES for this, buuuut, while HEALER is known to the criminal underbelly, police and those that would want or need to hire someone like him, the general public has no idea. Which is exactly what he wants, because attention isn’t really a useful thing in his line of work, or just the way he lives his life.  ]

HOW’S THEIR REPUTATION?   GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [ Good when it comes to how skilful he is, but bad as a person. His character arc really goes a looong way from where he is in episode 1. Like the first thing we see is him playing a tennis VR game, complaining that he can’t pick the character he is playing against to have less clothes (that being a computer-generated character but still), which isn’t really all that interesting and for sure not someone I’d be all into writing. And also his lack of care when it comes to what he does, like the guy he was protecting also in ep 1. Ends up dead, and he’s annoyed bc the police think he killed him, the fact that he’s dead, he couldn’t care less. ]

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?   —   I’ve been writing him for over two years, and it’s just no fun to just follow the canon. He has developed overtime on his own, and besides that, I just never really like any CANON fully. When it comes to the show, bc there are only 16 eps, and as with most dramas there is only one season. So I’ve taken the liberty to expand on the canon and to create Jung-hoo as I think he’d be, away from the scenes we can see him in.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.   —   For me personally, I really found it interesting that the mother that abandoned him, married someone else and had a whole new family, after his father died. Jung-hoo cares for her, meets with her, gives her money etc. He doesn’t hate or resent her, I think that shows a lot of compassion but also emotional intelligence. He has this me vs the world outlook, way of life, mentally, however you want to call it, but is in desperate need for someone to SEE him. Like acknowledge his existence, to stay, to love him. He is incredibly skilled & capable, everything you’ve seen 007 do, he does it better. Also I’ve made sure to include diverse verses so there is a way to explore pretty much anything under the sun that you could think of.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).   —  I think he can’t really move past the whole I hate everyone & I need someone. So he goes back and forth, it is difficult to create a meaningful connection. I’ve been lucky to do that but that’s also bc I’ve written with some people here for years. 

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?   —   I had taken a few years break from RP, which used to be like one of my main interests, writing in general. And then I was getting into just watching Kdramas, watched HEALER, and I was instantly like I HAVE TO WRITE HIM, and never looked back really. 

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?   —   Auditory stimuli, be it music or just sounds. For example, when I write I tend to use programs or websites where you can put different sounds in the background like thunder, rain, wind, chatter etc. Watching yt clips, seeing people on my dash tbh, like people that I follow also inspire me bc they make me go I WANNA WRITE WITH ALL OF THEM.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

DO YOU THINK YOU GIVE YOUR CHARACTER JUSTICE?   YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? [ I think I tend to have all of these feelings, sometimes I’m like, yeah, this is Jung-hoo, this is exactly what I wanted, sometimes I’m like who am I writing? But I just focus more on me enjoying writing him, than thinking if people think I write him as they think I should.]

DO YOU FREQUENTLY WRITE HEADCANONS?   YES / NO / SORT OF? [I have a bunch of headcanons about like the smallest of things, like the fact that I don’t think he likes wearing socks is one of them, but,  I don’t write them or post them on here. I’m not sure why, I guess I prefer to sort of just sprinkle them in the threads??? ]

DO YOU SOMETIMES WRITE DRABBLES?   YES / NO [ Kinda. I also write fanfiction & I had started this original one with sort of Jung-hoo in mind but not really him. I realized I really like writing starters, I think that’s probably like an unpopular opinion or way of thinking but I really enjoy starting the thread, and I kinda sometimes think starters are like drabbles, I’m not making sense. ]

DO YOU THINK A LOT ABOUT YOUR MUSE DURING THE DAY?   YES / NO

ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR PORTRAYAL?   YES / NO / SORT OF? [ Depends on my mental state. Like sometimes 100% and then other times it’s like what am I even doing?? ]

ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR WRITING?   YES / NO / A LITTLE BIT. [ I enjoy how I write, if that makes sense. I’d like to think that I can switch it up now and again, keep it fresh, I def know that I’ve evolved over the course of the years I’ve been RPing ]

ARE YOU A SENSITIVE PERSON?   YES / NO. / SORTA.

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?   —   Sure. I’m fine with that. I just think that the INTERNET does not know how to compute that, or people on the internet. It’s either, you can do no wrong or you should die a horrible death. It’s like either STAN or HATE. And it’s also somehow part of the rp community here on Tumblr. Where there’s just either fake praise or just unnecessary hate. And then there is a bit in the middle where like you can talk and exchange ideas and thoughts. But it is not the main focus by any means. If anyone wants to tell me to change something, or to do something diff, sure, let me hear you out, you might inspire me to improve. But that rarely happens. 

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU TO EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?   — Of course, I think a lot of people are like this. Talking about my character gives me muse for the character. Like we could be talking how he’d eat a salad and I’d be like, okay now I have to write a novella about this other thing I’m inspired about. 

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  —  That’s weird to me just bc I feel like when I read someones headcanon, this is how they, and them uniquely see the character, so I can’t really disagree with that, I can have an opinion for sure. But that’s like someone being I like this band, and you say, no you don’t, it just doesn’t make sense to me.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?   —  Same with the previous one. Like I often find blogs where they are writing a character that I either love from a show, move, book whatever, or it’s a canon type character that I find really interesting, like the idea behind it, but then I read their writing and then I go, aaaah okay nooo, no NO. And it’s never personal, it’s like, we ain’t gonna mesh, which is fine. And if someone is like that with my writing, fully understandable, just don’t be a dick about it, and we’ll be cool.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?  —  Couldn’t really give less of a shit really. RP to me is this little bubble where I am this fictional person that can do and try everything. It is in no way connected to any other aspect of actual reality or my life. The only connection is if I have to take a hiatus or smth, but like even if I write OOC things, it’s about IC stuff. I have other social medial for real life, this is just my RP bubble. So if someone is wasting their time hating a fictional character, they have bigger fish to fry. 

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?   —   Sure, English isn't my first language so mistakes happen. If I see someone make a mistake and the write with me, I just change it when I reply to them, but I don’t point it out bc you never know, someone people could be okay cool thanks, and someone else could really feel down on themselves, which would be bad, and I wouldn’t want that to happen.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?  —  I’d like to think so, especially that I’m easy to approach and talk to. I don’t take many things seriously, not just on here but like in life. So I’m always open to any idea anyone might have. I’ve been lucky with the people that I’ve been following & those that have followed me, a huge percentage is just really dope people, nice to read their writing, nice to talk to, great to write with. And I hope that it stays that way, so we can also have this as some kind of mental break from life :) 

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

help! urgent! this is a serious cry for help, my mom has blocked basically every website on my phone including yours, i recently came out to her and she is very unsupportive. makes me dress extra fem and won’t even let me trim my hair. when i see a female with shorter hair in public i’ll always say “oo i love her hair” and my mom just says no. my dysphoria has been very bad recently and i was wondering if you had any tips to help me, but without links as i cant visit any websites including yours

Kii says:

Here are two posts from our transmasculine resources, but I linked to reblogs of them, so my personal blog is the origin site, not TTSG.

Lee says:

Since you said “i cant visit any websites including yours” it’s probably easier if I just copy the text of the posts here bc I’m assuming there’s a chance that reblogging our post to Kii’s blog might not get around the block if she’s blocked all Tumblr urls and not just our blog specifically. 

You may be able to see our blog if you go to the public library and use one of their computers, but here it is in case you can’t

We get a lot of questions asking how to get short hair, so I’ve gathered some info that may help you in your quest to chop off your long hair and finally be free!

Take baby steps:

First cut it to just below shoulder length, then after a month or two to chin length.

After a month or two of that, say it’s inconvenient because you can’t tie it back with a hairband because it’s in-between long and short and you’ve been enjoying having less hair to deal with and get a feminine “pixie cut”.

Then just progressively got it cut shorter and shorter each time you go for a haircut.

Reasons and excuses to convince your parents to let you get it cut:

Short hair is easier to maintain and take care of! If you’re disabled or mentally ill this is a real bonus to having short hair.

Other ‘girls’ you know have short hair (if you’re closeted). If any of your friends who are girls (or who your parents think are girls) have short hair, point them out to your parents.

Celebrities who are women/girls have short hair. Find pictures of the celebrities that have short hair in the style that you want and ask your parents to get that haircut.

It’s hot out in the summer and short hair would keep you cool and or/ exercising makes your head/hair gross/sweaty.

You want to try the style for the summer and “grow it back if you don’t like it” (ie pretend the summer is a trial run and if you don’t like it you can start growing it back for school).

You want to swim/do sports and short hair would keep it out of your face. You could claim short hair will make you faster under a swim cap because you won’t have the bun and the weight or that it’s hard to keep all your hair inside the cap.

It looks cute/pretty and is fashionable and you want to try a change of hairstyle.

You’re tired of dealing with having long hair as it always gets stuck to/in things.

You want to keep it out of your face/or stop it from touching your face. If you have sensory issues, you could say it’s related to that.

It’ll make your showers quicker which is good for the environment, and you’ll use less hair product and it’ll save you time getting ready in the morning.

If you have OCD or trich, you could say you want it shorter so you won’t pull at your hair as often or you think it’d help reduce the urge to pull at your hair.

You have gum/glue in your hair. Stick some gum or glue in your hair, a bit closer to the end than you want the length to be when it’s cut. Say that it was done by accident (maybe you fell asleep chewing it) and then hopefully you can get it cut or have an excuse to cut it yourself.

You could say you’re experimenting, or it’s just part of being a “Rebellious teenager” if you think they’d allow it to happen if it’s part of a so-called phase and not permanent.

You think you’d look better with short hair/you think you’d be happier and more comfortable with short hair.

Short hair will help you pass better which can be important for your mental health and physical safety, and if you change your mind you can always let it grow out again.

It doesn’t matter what kind of face you have, anyone can rock short hair. The majority of cis guys have short hair. So does that mean every single one has the same type of face? Nah! Some of them must have round faces too. Nobody says anything about having the right shape of face to them, they just get their hair cut short automatically. Sure, some haircuts may be more flattering than others, but short hair can look good on anybody.

Say you’ll pay for the haircut yourself, and you’re X years old now and your body and your hair is your own responsibility, and nobody can make choices on what you want to do with your own body for you.

“I’m growing up and I think I should be able to decide how my hair is cut and styled. I think I can handle the responsibility of making my own decisions about my appearance.

Say you want to donate your hair to an organization like Wigs for Kids or something, and they prefer longer lengths of hair to make longer hair wigs for the kids, and you’re willing to have your hair cut short for a good cause and you’ve been thinking of trying a new style anyway

Act now and ask for forgiveness later:

You could cut your hair sort of short with a pair of scissors, like I did, just a few inches longer than you’d like it to end up. If you watch YouTube tutorials on how to cut hair, it might go better. Or ask a friend for their help.

Then go to the barber shop or hair salon if it didn’t turn out satisfactory (get a ride from a friend, bike, uber, lyft, or walk) and say you usually have short hair but you didn’t get it cut for a while so you let a friend cut it on a dare and now it’s messed up so you need a trim to fix it.

You can show the barber/person cutting your hair a picture of what you want it to look like, and say it usually looks like that.

You will need to have money to pay for your haircut, so check out the How to save money post.

You also should be confident that your parents will not hurt you when they found out you’ve cut it short. But once you’ve cut it short, they can’t magically make it long again so if they won’t react dangerously, it’s worth a try if you can’t convince them.

Helpful links:

Short Haircuts and the Barber Shop

Pos and cons of cutting your hair yourself

A website you can look at hairstyles on

Look at people’s hairstyles on trans selfie blogs for ideas

Gender neutral hairstyles

Get the Perfect Haircut: How to Talk to Your Barber

How to speak hairdresser

Best haircut hairstyle tips

FTM Hairstyle Guide: Tips and Inspiration

Four Great Haircuts for Trans Masc/FTMs

Haircut anxiety

Hair tattoo designs

Anything with one side shaved like this is popular in the lgbt community

15 Best Black Man Haircuts / 27 Hairstyles For Black Men / 22 Haircuts for Black Men

Can I pass with curly hair?

@ftmh​aircuts

You can also look at people’s selfies on blogs like @brownandtrans for ideas

Here are two asks that have been answered about masculine long hair before, along with some other links:

On Being a Longhair

Caring for Men’s Long Hair

Long Hairstyles for Black Men

How To Grow Your Hair Out

It’s easier to look masculine with long hair if you’re on T, if you’re pre-T then having long hair will make it harder to pass.

5 Basic Tips for Healthy Dreadlocks

16 Terrific Long Hairstyles For Black Men

[elfnerdherder]

Ill Intentions: Chapter 22

[Support my Patreon] [Read on Ao3]

A special thanks to my patrons: @sylarana @evertonem @jenacar @frostylicker @starlit-catastrophe @kenobi-is-king Mendacious Bean, Duhaunt6, Superlurk, and Cecily!

I don't have my computer with me, so this sadly won't have the cover art done by kenobi-is-king! Thank you all for your support in my writing, and I can't wait to pick up The Unquiet Grave after this!!

Also, due to this being posted on a Tumblr app on a chromebook whose internet won't load due to bad connection, it won't allow me to add the entire chapter. It ends about partway through, but until I'm back on the west coast I won't be able to load the rest of the chapter onto Tumblr! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Chapter 22: End Scene

When Tattler News released the ‘Special Edition’ of ‘Will Intentions’, Nicole pinned her copy to a corkboard much like Will’s. She’d already snuck into his apartment, taken photos, and recreated something of his workspace within her own office, to better step into the shoes of what his fans were calling ‘a vigilante move’. 

To partner with the Tattler News release, she’d also released a special post on her blog with a ‘tell all’ interview courtesy of Freddie Lounds, coworker and ‘close friend’ of Graham. She’d already received four more subscriptions, as well as twenty new messages in her inbox, thanking her for her hard work. 

I saved an image of the handkerchief! someone had commented. I’ll try to find one like it at the store. Maybe I’ll cosplay it. 

Lounds had asked to see the handkerchief Nicole had mentioned, but it was never revealed in person. The look on Lounds’ face when she was told ‘no’ made Nicole more than grateful she’d put a lock on her jewelry box before the reporter had shown up. 

As for her end of the bargain, she’d passed his manuscript along to her agent. Anything more, and she’d have her own story about uneasy trips to the FBI to tell her readers. 

- 

Abigail didn’t speak to Will until they were somewhere in Vancouver, BC. She spent most of the trip with her earphones in her ears and her head towards the window. Given the time, Will didn’t press her. It seemed she’d been playing a game with him for almost as long as he’d been playing a game with Hannibal. 

And yet, no; what game do you think you’re all playing? 

The border situation had been tricky, but the homeless man –Mike, Will kept having to remind himself –was more than true to his word at getting them across. Once across, it was the sort of drive done by someone who had a very important place to go with little time to get there. They stopped for gas and nothing else. The next couple of days was nothing but yoo-hoo’s and donuts, Will’s dreams bleeding into the waking hours of watching hill after hill of white pass by. Blankets of it draped along the interstate, but the plows had done their job. If their car appeared suspicious, no one stopped them. The more they kept to normal hours of traffic where it was difficult for cops to keep an eye out, the better. Hannibal remained in the backseat and only got out when absolutely necessary. 

“I’m not sorry for not telling you,” Abigail said by way of greeting. Will stood beside the passenger door, a cup of shitty gas station coffee in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. His watch had died somewhere just before the border. Since ditching his phone, he hadn’t felt the need to dig through his bag in order to charge the thing, seeing as how one without the other was somewhat of a moot point. 

He glanced to the black, blank screen, and he wondered why he was even still wearing it. He hadn’t thought about his steps since Hannibal’s office. Streak broken. He wasn’t sure if that meant something, and if it did mean something, he wasn’t ready to unbox it yet, much the same way he wasn’t quite ready to unbox that there was another person inside of his head that killed people so that he didn’t have to. 

“I didn’t tell you a lot of things,” he replied. 

“You didn’t call, either,” she said, and it took him probably longer than it should have for Will to realize she sounded almost hurt by it. He wasn’t quite focused; maybe the watch having a blank face was more of a problem to him than he thought. 

“If I’d known Hannibal had gotten to you first, I would have been…more forthcoming,” he admitted. When she didn’t speak, he took a drag from his cigarette and continued, “hell, when he was breaking into my apartment, you could have just let him in. I asked Beverly to house you because I didn’t want to make you a target of yet another serial killer.” 

“I didn’t actually get fired from Subway. I quit.” 

Will hummed in agreement. “Figured that an hour into the drive.” 

“I followed Beverly following you sometimes, too.” 

“We could have all carpooled if you two communicated better.” 

“You first,” Abigail shot back. 

That was fair. Will’s cheeks ballooned, and he blew air out slowly, counting back from ten. 

“Abigail,” he said, and the look she gave him made this so much harder. “You’re…not guilty of anything, really.” 

“Says the guy that called me ‘the knowing bait,’” she retorted. 

“No, I mean it…” he sighed and looked around the decrepit gas station pointedly. “I’m abetting a murderer.” Silence. He scowled and continued, “right now, you could walk away and not face any legal persecution should you go back to the states, whereas I would go to jail. That guy in there –” 

“The one you stabbed –” 

“I don’t remember stabbing –look, him too. The three of us would go to jail, but you wouldn’t.” 

His cigarette had burned too low; he let out a hiss when it singed his fingers, and he stubbed it out on the tire before tossing the butt of it in the trashcan by the pump. Too late, he saw the warning on the pump that said not to smoke while gassing up. Will glanced about, but there was no one to scold him on the dangers of such endeavors. There was only him and Abigail at the moment, and he’d have almost welcomed Hannibal coming to interrupt them. He could imagine how a psychiatrist would be a much better option for giving advice than he would. 

Abigail looked out past the cars parked just at the treeline, the expanse beyond it. Her expression was difficult to read, a mix of something pained and something hopeful. 

“I don’t have anything else,” she said, and when she looked back to him, she smiled. In that moment, he’d have called it genuine. “I told you before, I’m looking for closure. Since that’s all that seems to matter to me at this point, I’ll stick around until I find it.” 

Will sucked air in sharply, frowning. “The consequences –” 

“I know how to juggle consequences. I can weigh the risk of pros and cons.” 

Given how long she lived under the roof of the Minnesota Shrike, he believed her. When it was time to go, they climbed back into a beat-up Tahoe they’d swapped somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and she made a point to lay her head in Will’s lap, much like she had back at the apartment.  

Much later, Will would find a polaroid of the scene tucked into his jacket pocket, the colors washed out and faded but still good. He tucked it into his shirt pocket, to preserve the color. 

- 

“I’m just outside of Tattler News, Jerry, and here we’ve got not only fans of the paper demanding answers, we’ve got some of Will Graham’s ‘avid fans’ here with signs! Just this past evening, as we know, Will Graham’s apartment was invaded by the FBI, boxes upon boxes removed from the scene as they attempt to glean over anything they can in order to find both him, as well as the Chesapeake Ripper. So far, there is no information revealed as to whether or not they have any solid leads to their whereabouts.” 

“Now, I know we’re dealing with the Chesapeake Ripper, Chet, but I think what’s interesting are the avid fans of Graham’s you’ve got gathered around you!” 

“Yes, these people aren’t here for news on the Ripper, they’re actually here for Will Graham. You can hear some of them in the back, chanting –you can hear it, can’t you?” 

“Yes, of course!” 

“They’re upset that the suspect in the disappearance of Hannibal Lecter –” 

[Continue on Ao3]