#stupid humour this time like with part-time work full-time love

[tremendouscreationperson]

A few of you wanted a part three so here goes

Reader gets called Doll and Toots but other than that I think it's pretty GN

Part 1 Part 2

Ford - no Stan - had spun his tale. You weren't sure any of it could be possible. How was you supposed to believe that Ford was alive but not in this universe/realm/reality?

You sat in the lab he had brought you to - it was cold and dank, stark lights illuminated metal plates and cascaded up the walls to show off a large triangular 'portal'.

"Why'd you have to die?" You asked, eyes glued to the journal upon your knees.

For-Stan had been waiting for any questions, willing to provide you answers. "Seemed easier."

"And lying to me?" You flicked through the stained pages. "That was easy?"

"It wasn't." He told you honestly, just hearing his voice was crazy. You had believed he was dead for two years and he wasn't! He was here the whole time. "Gotta admit, I had you fooled."

The attempt at a joke was not humourous in the slightest. "This isn't normal behaviour."

Stanley didn't know what else to do. He hadn't thought you would ever realise, perhaps that was stupid on his part but he really thought he was able to coexist with you as Ford.

"So..." You took a deep breath. "Recap: this is Ford's journal and he wanted you to take it away and you both argued and he got sucked into that thing and now you're him and Stan is dead and you're trying to get him back?"

Stan nodded, twiddling his thumbs. "Yeah. It's been hard, I had to relearn math."

"Who else wrote in here?"

"Huh?"

You pointed at the page. "That's not Ford's handwriting. Although look, 'ford' signed it." A humourless chuckle escaped. "Who else is pretending to be your brother?"

Stan was at your side in an instant, looking over your shoulder. Being so close to him was maddening.

He was alive.

Your Stan was alive.

Yeah, maybe he was a fraud and there was weird space mumbo jumbo that you still don't entirely believe but he was alive.

Your face was turned towards him as he studied the page, his fingers grazing yours underneath the words. How did he look like him now?

You didn't see Ford in him at all.

The way he stood, his neutral expression, even his hair was different. Was Stanley.

"I didn't notice that." He spoke lowly due to the proximity.

"Is there anyone else in the town called Ford?"

Stan's gaze landed on you, his nose inches from yours and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it and just observing you. He really took you in.

Despite the lies you were still here. Still entertaining this. He really wished he had more to offer you but he didn't.

He was just him. He wasn't his brilliant brother or full of mysteries or answers. He was just Stan, a con artist who scammed people daily.

"I don't know." The words finally left his mouth and he quickly stood upright.

~~

Rather than leaving tonight, you had stayed longer because of the news, calling in sick at work, how often could you say someone had come back from the dead?

The two of you ate half the pasta you made, sitting awkwardly opposite each other at the table.

He had been open and honest, answering all of your questions keenly and encouraging you to ask more. And you had to admit that was nice but the news still sat heavily on your shoulders.

Mostly because: FUCKING HELL THIS WAS CRAZY and a slither of: you had told FORD THAT YOU LOVED STANLEY AND BROUGHT HIM UP IN MANY CONVERSATIONS AND HE WAS THE ONE YOU WERE TALKING TO AND YOY WERE EMBARRASSED AS FUCK BUT YOU NEEDED TO HELP AND HDJAKSIEIES

"You, er.. you okay?" Stan toyed with a meatball.

"It's just a lot to process." That wasn't a lie. "I'll probably be like this for a few days."

He gave you a sincere smile, "take your time, do-"

Your eyes snapped up to his pink face. "Were you going to call me doll?" He nodded in affirmative, his ears reddening as well. You weren't sure why but you spared him with: "Hmm, better than toots."

"That was one time!" He insisted.

"That's all it took."

"I only said it to piss you off." He smirked cheekily, his face returning to its usual hue.

"It worked." Rolling your eyes as you giggled. You didn't hold any real malice, he was being cocky demonstrating his pick up moves and they did not work... Well they did but it was easier to pass off your hot face and wide eyes as anger rather than awe.

Stan laughed along with you, enjoying the sound. Loving how easy it was to just be himself. He didn't have to wear the gloves which made everything impossible, he didn't have to act stiff and drop big words into his 'lexicon', and he didn't have to lie. He could be himself.

He knows he doesn't deserve this, by God he knows that, but he would take all you'd willingly give; if that was just dinner before you drove away forever then he would take it and be thankful for the time.

"Want a beer?" He found himself asking.

You didn't reply straight away, ideas tumbling around your head. He loved watching your mind work. "Got anything stronger?"

Stan winked and disappeared to get the whiskey he'd stashed away.

And so the two of you found yourselves sitting on his 'balcony' (a little ledge, that you had to climb through a window to access, underneath the 'mystery shack' sign) forgoing glasses and passing the bottle between you.

"Must feel good to tell someone." Your words slurred as you laid on your spine, staring at the stars beyond the trees.

"It does." He took a sip. "Feel bad that it was you though."

You swivelled your neck to give him a confused face. He bellowed out a laugh. "Oit, don't laugh at me." Your socked toe jabbed his thigh.

Stan placed a hand over your foot, just holding it, forcing your hips to manoeuvre into a more comfortable position. You faced him as he watched the treeline. "Sorry to drag you into this."

"Sorry I didn't notice sooner." How didn't you? He was clearly Stan. There was nothing here that said Ford. "You're so obviously my Stan." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms in annoyance at yourself.

Stan's brows shot up and he turned to catch you grumbling at yourself. "Your Stan?"

Your eyebrows met and you scrunched your face in confusion again. "What?"

"You said 'my Stan'." His lips began to lift into the smuggest smirk as he leaned forward, entering your bubble. "I didn't realise I was your Stan."

"Shut up." You playfully pushed him away. "We're drunk, you don't know what you heard."

Stan didn't let up, instead he found your hand and intertwined your fingers. "I kinda like being someone's Stan." He spoke with a half shrug.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was this a dream fueled by your longing and whiskey? "Well, you know how I feel because you were spying on me! Pretending to be Ford to hear what I had to say about you!"

"Hey, I told you Stan liked you too!" He defended.

"Do-" You paused. When did the two of you get so close? You were nose to nose. "Does Stan still feel that w-"

You weren't given a chance to finish the question because his lips were on yours. He kissed you slowly, one palm on your cheek as the other wound around your spine, pulling you in close. Your hands were pinned against his chest as you kissed him back enthusiastically.

Stan's slow kisses morphed into an intense make out session as he ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you gave him access. His hands exploring all over your body, squeezing and caressing your sides and chest causing your spine to curve.

The two of you were buzzing and the kiss was a little sloppy but it was perfect. You wouldn't want it any other way.

He finally allowed the two of you a breather, kissing his way down your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh. You squirmed again, back arching as a whispered moan tumbled from you.

That sobered him up, Stan raised his head from your neck, looking down at you and saw the needy look in your eyes. "Maybe we should wait 'til we're not blitzed."

The automatic frown you wore had him chuckling as you pulled his face back to yours, kissing him with as much vigour as you could muster.

Stan bit your bottom lip and his fingers settled on your thighs, how he managed to find himself in between them he didn't know but you pulled him closer with your legs and he had to pinch himself.

This was real.

All the shit he had done.

Every scam, every fraud, every crime, everything.

And you still looked at him with those eyes.

Fuck.

Maybe he loved you.

.

.

.

@aratheegreat @ngs991-2 @seahorrorz @misty-eyed-memory @50shadesofwinchesters @ryoiii @viceroywrites @atseoks @countlessimagines @aweleyirene @hesthermay @darlingdia1007 @piningforstan @emmygirl33 @imafangirlofeverything @daniel-meyer-03

.

.

I work in a DIY shop and this is what I had to look at for the majority of my shift 😂😭 he haunts me

[miley1442111]

treatment plan (part 2)- a.hotchner

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---------------------

summary: aaron oversteps and it starts a fight.

pairing: aaron hotchner x insomnia! reader

warnings: angst, discussions of insomnia and feeling 'different' because of it, mental health, crying, happy ending, aaron is insecure, fighting, suggestive at the end

part of this au:

insomniac

treatment plan (part 1)

---------------------

You walked into work the next day, exhausted and rather irritated. Aaron was a tyrant as he shouted and screamed about anything small anyone did wrong, even when Derek made a dumb joke on the plane. The case was tough, three girls gone missing with nothing to connect them, apart from their clothing. You had nothing to go off of, and on top of it, it was a dead of winter in fucking Maine. Freezing didn't even begin to cover it. 

“This is a shithole,” you sighed as you walked into your hotel room. You knew Aaron was behind you, you knew he was going to try to talk to you, and in all honesty, you didn’t give a shit. You had absolutely no time for him. He’d called you selfish. When you did everything he asked of you, and more. Pathetic. He was the selfish one. 

“We’re in a remote town, what were you expecting,” his calm, yet cutting voice drove the wedge further between you, and suddenly the room became much colder. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “A Four Season’s?”

He scoffed. “Maybe then you’d actually sleep.”

He noticed how your face fell, and he really noticed when you locked yourself in the bathroom, taking a very long time to shower. He sighed as he sat on the bed, his pyjamas on, but he wasn’t tired. He was just… upset? Annoyed? Guilty? He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that he was sorry. He wanted you to come back home, come back to him. He wanted to hold you as you slept soundly under him, when you weren’t plagued with your anxieties and stress of the day. Those peaceful moments where you wouldn’t look back at him, because when you did he felt himself open. He felt like a raw, open wound when you looked at him. He often felt stupid because of it. Were you as affected by him as he was you? Was your world constantly flipped on its head every time he walked into the room like his was when you did?  

No, because Aaron Hotchner, boring, logical, unemotive, shy, Aaron Hotchner was nowhere near your excellence or beauty. Nowhere near your humour and tantalising smile. Nowhere near you emotional expressions and unwilling intelligence. 

Aaron knew he had no chance with you from the get-go, and he had been shocked when you’d asked him out, after months of pining after you. As he watched you with Jack, with the team, he saw himself slowly falling into your orbit, and falling in love. 

And he fucked it up, all because he was worried, and far too logical for love to work. 

He turned off his light and turned over. He didn’t turn around and comfort you when he heard your soft sobs, and he only let himself cry when he was sure you were asleep. God, why couldn’t you two just talk?

---------------------

You woke up before Aaron, a rare thing, so you took full advantage. You left the hotel before him, got to the precinct first, and kept going with the case, Spencer and Emily by your side. When Aaron came in thirty minutes later, you were already on your way out to interview the families with Jj, so he couldn’t talk to you. 

You two were called back after another body had been found later that day, the sky already dark as you two pulled up to the scene. Aaron was waiting. 

“I’ll take Agent Y/l/n, you can go back to the precinct Jj, thanks.”

And there was no room for arguing.  

---------------------

You and Aaron walked onto another crime scene, the dark sky and minimal light making the small path difficult to see. You didn’t even want to be around Aaron, let alone around him in a professional setting. Everyone on the team knew what was going on because Penelope cannot keep things to herself. You stepped, squinting to see the tiny dirt path through the trees and bam, you were sliding down a mud hill. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, finally stopping at the bottom. You were covered in mud, you were exhausted, and you were upset. Not a good mix. You felt the tears of frustration well up in your eyes, but swallowed them down when Aaron came to your rescue.

“Are you hurt?” he asked frantically, checking your body for cuts and bruises. “Y/n!”

“I’m fine Aaron, I just slipped,” you sigh, getting up with his help. “I’ll head back to the hotel and shower, I’ll see you in the morning-”

“Let me come with you, please,” he pleaded. You reluctantly agreed and off you two went, back to the hotel. 

You stood in the lobby, muddy and cold as Aaron got the room keys. 

He stared at you as you waited for the elevator.

“Let’s go Aaron,” you sighed. You walked in silence to your room, and when you went into the bathroom, locking the door behind you, Aaron sat on the bed and sighed. What the fuck was he going to do? 

He’d fucked up before, but not like this. He knew he was pushing you when he said what he said, but he was just so scared, so worried, so… uncontrolled. He didn’t know what to do, a new feeling for him. 

“Y/n,” he called from the other side of the bathroom. “I’m sorry.” 

He heard you mumble something. “Can I come in?” He asked. Suddenly the door was unlocked and he was let in. 

“What do you want?” You asked, washing your hair in the bath. Aaron gulped, god you were gorgeous. 

“I’m sorry about the fight,” he admitted, trying to keep his thoughts off your body. “I know I should’ve respected your decision, but I’m really fucking scared. I’m really, really scared. I’ve never had to think about this, and with all the awful facts Reid keeps telling me-”

“You need to stop listening to him,” you chuckled. “And I understand. It can be a lot, even for me.”

While you were annoyed at him, you understood where he was coming from. This was scary. The statistics were scary. The diagnosis was scary. He was just trying to look out for you, like he always does, and maybe a part of what he was saying was right. Maybe you should keep trying, it just gets hard when you are constantly told that you’re untreatable. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Can we start talking to each other again?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, and I’m sorry I ran away.” 

“I deserved it,” he chuckled. “So…?”

“So… I will go back to looking for treatment,” you said and his face lit up. “But if it gets too much for me I will stop again. And I’m not selfish for doing that.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry I ever said that, you’re the most selfless person I've ever met.”

“And also,” you added. “I love you, but you cannot keep taking your frustrations out on me and expect me to be alright. That’s not fair.”

“I promise,” he nodded. 

“Then, I think we’re back to normal,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his hand. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” he smirked, allowing his mind to focus on other things…

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@princess76179

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[blythings]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? | TOM BLYTH

— pairing: tom blyth x filmmaker!oc (fem.)

— summary: she thinks she is really, really smart unless it's about tom; and then she is really, really stupid.

— tags: exes-to-lovers, named oc, attempts at humour, mentions of other celebrities.

— notes: some parts were lifted from i-D mag's feature on emma seligman!

series masterlist | send me an ask →

liked by ayoedeberi, filmupdatesmain and others

alexisnakamura support women's rights and women's wrongs by watching bottoms, out today in theatres across the us and canada! ❤️🥊

this movie is our baby and i feel so lucky to have been able to make it with some of my best friends 🥹 special thanks to @/mari.arai for letting me cover the walls of our nyu dorm with dick jokes and agreeing to play isabel 💞

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nicholasgalitzine So proud of you guys

↪ alexisnakamura nicky 🥺❤️

mari.arai 🫡😘❤️ LOVE YOUUUU

↪ alexisnakamura went a little too hard with the dorm room manifestations and now we made a movie together??? INSANE

guzzlingplastic1000 the best dick joke writer of all time

❤️ by alexisnakamura

↪ user ruby accept my follow request PLEASE

user THIS IS MY FIGHT CLUB

user do you have any pics of mari and ruby covered in blood it's not for anything weird i promise hahahahaaaaa

user omg tom blyth liked this post

↪ user who??

↪ user he's gna be in the new hunger games movie!

↪ user wait i think i've seen him on ali's insta before

↪ user where? i just checked her profile and he's not in any of her posts

↪ user maybe she deleted them????

liked by kaiagerber, tomblyth and others

i_d Bottoms is a delight because it’s a rare breed of big studio production with a compelling original premise, following Josie (Ayo Edebiri) and PJ (Rachel Sennott), two queer teen dirtbags on their circuitous quest to get laid.⁠ ⁠

The movie been called “one of the most quotable films of the decade”, “blisteringly funny”, an “exercise in kamikaze feminism” and more, whilst holding a score of 96% on reviews aggregator Rotten Tomatoes.⁠ ⁠

But when we speak, director @/alexisnakamura only wants to lament on her new bangs. “Impulsively cutting your bangs at 5am is peak girlhood,” she says with the jittery intonation of a girl in her twenties.

Hit the link in bio to read Alexis's full interview with i-D on imposter syndrome, meeting friend and close collaborator Mari Arai in college, situating her bisexuality in her filmmaking and more.⁠

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user relatable queen

user she's so pretty 😩

user she sounds exhausting to be around LMAOO

↪ user ^^^ ↪ user fr it's not a good look considering she's relatively new to the industry ↪ user so she's meant to just be nice and likeable? give me a break 🙄 also "relatively new" is a stretch when bottoms is her 3rd movie

user "i feel like i'm constantly going through something" same

user is she dating tom blyth?

↪ user i think she used to but they broke up ages ago ↪ user they still like each other's posts tho ↪ user an amicable breakup then? ↪ user omg i want them to work together

liked by user, user and others

nakamuraupdates ali's stories from this morning!

user not death by a thousand cuts

user someone check on our girl

[kanmom51]

Felt like I had to bring this back

Please forgive me @juliapark13 for hijacking your post, but I just had to, it being the perfect example of not only how stupid people are, but also of how there is no problem for people to make assumptions as to the members sexuality when it's about assuming they are straight. It only works in one direction though.

This ask:

And this post linked:

Because, I too feel for either of their non existent girl friends, former (past 7 years), present or future.

With all the noise about the word girl maybe or maybe not being in a snippet of a maybe JK song on his maybe album, I thought it fitting to bring a few posts back.

All part of my hardcore expose proving once and for all that, you guessed right, JK ain't gay.

RB - the Jikook conversation transcript.

Hickey-gate.

It's true. They have been covering for each other for years.

JK ain't gay pt. 1

JK ain't gay pt. 2

JK ain't gay pt. 3

JK ain't gay pt. 2 of pt. 3

And if talking about the gf...

I'm guessing that now with this shit circulating it's time for a part 4 of this expose then, right? I mean the word girl in lyrics to his song (maybe). That would surely mean he's straight, right? Cause Ricky Martin is 100% straight, always was.

Wait, he's not?

But surely he was when he was singing:

"Woke up in New York City

In a funky cheap hotel

She took my heart, and she took my money"

No?

Shite.

Could it possibly be that a queer artist sing a song with lyrics that have zero to do with his own personal life? Could it be?

Could a queer artist create art (song, dance, paintings, acting etc.) that has nothing to do with his sexual orientation?

And now I'm being dead serious. This is total bull. Of course queer artists create art that is not necessarily personal. Queer singers singing songs about loving women, queer actors playing roles being in love with a woman all while they are gay. Queer artists painting women.

Now about this song snippet specifically:

We don't know if this is an actual song or perhaps a guide song.

We don't know what he is actually saying there (I've literally heard so many different versions of it, some with girl some without).

We don't know the full lyrics of this specific song.

We don't know if this song is on his album.

We don't know what this album consists of, how many songs, how personal it is as a whole, who wrote the lyrics to some or all of his songs.

We just don't know.

If the song or songs on his album have female pronouns and talk about love and attraction to females, and if JK tells us the album and all songs on it are personal to him, only then will people be able to come around to our blogs and claim some sort of proof that JK might be interested in women.

But does that rule out him being queer?

Heck no. Cause you know, bisexual is a thing. Pansexual too.

But there is no talking to these people. When you are a brainless moron it's hard to understand that love is love is love. You also can't possibly see what these two have been up to for the past 7 years or so. You can't see, you can't hear everything they've showed us, told us. What a kick in their gut it was when JK came live in the past couple of months with JM on the mind. And what a kick in the gut it will be for them if we have a Letter like song on his album. Here's hoping. Yes, that's me being as petty as fuck.

[karahalloway]

Morally Grey: Part I - Game of Thieves

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Series: Morally Grey

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: Harper's illicit plans go awry when Drake's appearance at the Beaumont Bash throws an unexpected wrench in the works

Word count: 5,000

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, illegal activities, a handful of lemon-scented moments)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: This is my submission for @choicesprompts' Rewrite Challenge and the scene I chose to redo with my OTP is the one from Mission: Impossible II where Nyah steals the necklace from the hacienda in Seville. This is (still) one of my favourite movies of all time and I especially love this scene for the music, the way it's shot, the situational humour and the sexual tension... basically everything about it! 🙃

A/N2: The clips (for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, or doesn't remember) are below (I couldn't find a YouTube video that had the entire scene in one video). Enjoy!

"Evening, ma'am," greets a liveried footman as he reaches for the door handle of the Mercedes AMG SL 63 roadster that I've just revved to a stop. "And welcome to the Beaumont Bash."

"Thanks," I say with a smile, spinning in the seat to swivel my legs out of the car. "Looking forward to seeing if the experience lives up to the hype."

"Oh, I can assure you that it does, ma'am," he chuckles, handing me a token for my car. "The Bash gets wilder every year."

"Does it really?" I ask with wide eyed surprise as I open my clutch up to carefully stow the token away.

"I promise, you will not be disappointed, ma'am," he assures me with a wink.

"Bet your ass I won't, bud," I murmur under my breath as I turn towards the House. "Because I have something special planned for tonight..."

Stepping onto the red carpet lined stairway of the the stately, baroque manor, I can tell that the party is already very much in full swing: the thump of the bass echoes out in the night, the occasional shrill laugher rising above it as shadowy silhouettes drift and mingle.

Which is perfect.

Because even though I am normally very much a punctual kind of girl, there are certain situations where it pays to arrive fashionably late... or not at all.

As in my line of work, timing is everything.

And I intend to make it rain tonight...

...assuming everything goes to plan.

I have no real reason to think that it won’t. After all, I've been planning this job for over a year and I've made sure to account for every step, every detail, down to the time of my arrival, to the way I’ve styled my hair, and even the black lace mini dress I’m wearing.

Because when the potential pay-off is this big, nothing can be left to chance. And I am nothing if not a perfectionist.

Making it to the top of the steps, I am greeted by a pair of burly-looking security guards.

"Good evening, ma'am," says one holding a tablet. "Your name?"

"Lady Riley Brooks," I say with a demure smile.

A lie. But, then again, I’m not stupid enough to have booked myself onto the high-profile guest list under my real name.

The guard taps on the screen a few times before nodding.

"May I take a look at your bag, ma'am?" asks the other.

"Of course," I reply graciously, handing my black leather YSL clutch over.

The guy opens it up, pulling out my phone, a USB charger, a compact mirror, and a tube of lipstick, before slotting everything away again and returning it to my hands.

"Have a good evening, ma'am," he nods, opening his arm to indicate that I may enter.

"I very much intend to," I say with a smirk, stepping through the doorway into the House...

...and I am instantly transported into another world.

The strategically placed mood lights bathe everyone and everything in the lavishly decorated room in a heady mix of rose and violet, providing an ethereal backdrop to the acrobats that are twirling seductively through the air with the help of various hoops, aerial silks, and trapeze lines.

Heightening the trance-like effect are strobe lights that flash in perfect accompaniment to the EDM-remixed classical music, illuminating the glitter and lavender-scent infused smoke slithering around the guests' ankles.

But what truly takes my breath away is the centre piece of the extravagant show, which is a pair of scantily dressed dancers, performing a racy ballet routine on top of a snowy-white Lippizaner.

"Apparently money can buy you anything," I muse softly, surveying the combined effect of the spectacle that is more than on par with anything ever put on by the Cirque du Soleil.

And even though I would love to lose myself in the magic of it all, I’m here for business, not pleasure. Which means that I cannot afford any distractions.

So, taking a breath, I plunge into the crowd. Weaving between the ballgowns and the tuxedos, I'm careful to avoid direct eye contact with anyone as I skirt ‘round the edge of the performance area, trying to look the part while remaining as unassuming as possible.

But despite my attempts to lose myself in the press, I feel an unmistakable tingle rise up the back of my neck.

I'm being watched.

I come to a stop, debating what to do.

Part of my mind tells me that I should ignore it, that it's probably just some drunk duke checking out my ass.

But a deeper, more instinctual part of me knows the difference between a pervy once-over and an unrelenting, focused stare. And this is definitely the latter.

So, probably against my better judgment, I lift my head in silent challenge...

...and my gaze instantly collides with his, bringing the world around me to a sudden, screeching halt.

My breath lodges in my chest as I find myself helplessly immobile under the weight of his scrutiny, like a deer caught in the headlights. The music, the laughter, it all falls away until it feels like it's just me and him, suspended in time and space across the room.

Because even with the distance separating us, I can feel the heat of his gaze scorching into me, stripping me bare, until I'm left naked, exposed in front of him.

And still he doesn't look away. He doesn't blink, or flush, or avert his gaze in any semblance of pretence that his attention had actually been focused on anything else.

He simply stands, unmoving, on the other side of the dancers, his dark eyes binding me unapologetically, giving me no corner, no chance of escape.

Yet escape is exactly what I must do.

I have no clue who this guy is, and I have even less interest in finding out. As best case scenario, he is simply a dangerous distraction. But worst case? He somehow knows exactly who I am and my reason for being here.

And neither of those options are good.

So, as the dancers pirouette across the floor, throwing their arms out and breaking the line of sight that connects us, I wrench myself out of my stupor, diving into the crush behind me.

"Holy shit! Who was that guy?" I gasp under my breath, feeling my heart race at a million miles an hour in response to the strangely intimate nature of the encounter.

But despite my shock, I know in the back of my head that the details are irrelevant. That the only thing that matters is getting as far away from him as possible. Because the last thing I need right now is him following after me and derailing all the hard work I've put into getting here tonight.

Keep it together, Harper, I tell myself, bending my head low as I use the anonymity of the crowd to hide myself, hoping that I've managed to give him the slip.

Reaching the end of the throng without incident, I duck behind a doorway to give myself a second to catch my breath, and make sure that the coast is clear.

Satisfied that I've lost him — at least for the moment — I turn towards my next objective, which is the grand staircases.

It's an exposed location, so I know I'll have to be quick. Especially since there is a pair of guards stationed at the bottom of the steps, tasked with preventing exactly the kind of protocol violation that I am about to commit.

Luckily, just at that moment, a group of very much worse for wear noblewomen stumble out of the main party, shrieking loudly.

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaims one, feathering herself with her silk fan. "Did you see the size of that lad's package!"

"Calm down, Abigail!" admonishes another. "We know that husband of yours is next to useless, but you should at least try to not make such a spectacle of yourself!"

"Mmm, speaking of spectacle..." purrs the first, laying eyes on the guards.

"Abigail!" cries her companion, even as snorts of laughter rise up from the others. "You are absolutely incorrigible!"

"Better to be incorrigible than a vapid, old nun!" comes the pithy response as Abigail stumbles across the hallway.

Seizing my chance, I fall into line at the back of the group as the women crowd around the guards, laughing and swaying as they try to secure their attentions.

As expected, the focus of the guards quickly becomes diverted by the ladies, even if it's only to the extent of trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism in the face of the relentless coquetry, and I use the opportunity to dash up the stairs behind them.

Keeping to the shadows, I fly up the steps two at a time, knowing that I have scant few moments to make it to the upper floor before I am spotted.

Reaching the top of the landing, I throw myself behind a suit of armour. But, it seems that Lady Luck is with me tonight, and apart from the sound of the party continuing in full swing downstairs, I hear no signs of a pursuit.

So, I take advantage of the momentary reprieve to retrieve the pair of satin opera gloves that I've stashed in my garter. Pulling them on, I slip out from my hiding place and make my way towards the master wing, using my mental map of the manor's blueprints as a guide.

Arriving at the correct set of doors, I try the handle, and breathe a sigh of relief when it turns easily in my hand.

I've brought a set of lock-picks with me, of course, but being able to save time and effort in not having to use them is a massive win.

Letting myself into the room, I click the door softly closed behind me.

An opulent, Rocco-inspired suite greets me, complete with a four-poster bed and a full-blown hand-painted mural on the ceiling.

But I’m not here to gawk. And I have precious little time to get what I came for and get out.

So, pulling my compact mirror from my clutch, I open it up to reveal the miniature voltage detector concealed within.

Stepping further into the room, I hold the device out in front of me, the faint chirps serving as a beacon guiding me towards my destination.

The beeping suddenly intensifies as I swing the detector past the line of the bathroom, and I know I'm getting closer.

Adjusting my course, I follow the compass-like arrow in my hand. Zeroing in on the oversized bathtub, I am rewarded with a series of high-pitched cheeps.

Jackpot.

Why someone would choose to hide a safe in a bathroom, not to mention in the vicinity of a bathtub that is prone to flooding and other types of short-circuit causing disasters, I have no idea.

That said, it is innovative.

Though not innovative enough to fool a professional thief like me.

Because that's what I am — a career larcenist who specialises in small, high value items. Jewellery, art, antiques... I’m not picky. As long as it has a five-to-six figure price tag and I can hide it in my cleavage, I am willing to put in the effort to lift it.

And that's why I’m here tonight — to get my hands on the 24 carat Bvlgari diamond necklace that has graced the neck of every Duchess of Ramsford since the turn of the last century. Not only is it worth millions, but it's also a stunning work of art. And it deserved to be worn, rather than gathering dust in an expensive safe somewhere.

Scooting into the marble tub, I place my clutch onto the mosaic tiled surround as I scan the expanse of the walls with the voltage detector.

The indicator suddenly jumps to the right and down, and I can't help but feel the familiar rush of butterflies in my stomach.

This is it.

Dropping the detector back in my clutch, I extract my phone and the tube of lipstick. Twisting the bottom off the tube, I pull out the miniature lock-pick hiding within and, with the help of the flashlight on my phone, I begin to move over the tiles, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Suddenly I spot it — a tiny inconsistency in the mortar between the edge of two tiles. Reaching down with the pick, I dig at the protrusion until it pops free, revealing some kind of card slot.

Turning the flashlight off on my phone, I flip it over and snap the protective cover off, exposing a flimsy bit of plastic nestled within. Connecting the keycard decoder to my phone via the micro-USB port, I slot it into the nearly invisible slit between the tiles.

Booting up the hidden app on my phone, I quickly run the hack program and am rewarded with a beep and a click as the high-tech safety net falls away...

...only to have my sense of achievement instantly dashed.

Because instead of a discreet jewellery box nestled in the belly of the safe, I am greeted with yet another layer of security.

A slice of mosaic tile slides back on the bathtub surround to reveal a complicated-looking, multi-lock compartment within.

And this one has no electronic overrides.

"Crap..."

"I see you've found it."

"Jesus Christ!" I gasp, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sound of the unfamiliar and unexpected voice.

Whipping around, I come face to face with the guy from downstairs, perched on the side of the tub with a conspiratorial smirk on his face.

Like this is all some kind of massive joke.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demand, angry at him for sneaking up on me, but even angrier at myself for letting him get this close in the first place without my warning bells going off.

Because thieves without self-preservation instincts don't survive long... and mine have just let me down big time.

Which is even more annoying given the fact that he is staring at me with that calculating, predatory gaze again, his entire body exuding a tightly-coiled, barely suppressed energy, like a panther waiting to pounce.

And even though he is dressed in a custom-tailored suit that moulds effortlessly to his muscled form like a second skin, and the watch that peeks out from beneath his cuff is worth almost as much as my car, he isn’t fooling me. Not one bit.

Because as much as he’s tried to hide it, he is an interloper here. Just like me.

His rich baritone is missing that characteristic upwards inflection that the nobility like to force upon their speech in an effort to differentiate themselves from the rest of us. And no duke, count, or baron would be caught dead with the type of five-o'clock shadow this guy is sporting, much less condone the uninhibited way with which his thick, chocolate-coloured hair has been left to fall around his face.

But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to lower my guard. Just the opposite.

Because regardless of who he is, or what he looks like (...which is hotter than hell), the guy reeks of trouble.

And his next words only help reaffirm my initial assessment.

"Think you're the only one who can pick a lock?" he asks, brow quirking upwards in sardonic challenge.

"Pfft!" I snort. "Seeing is believing, bud, and as far as I can see, I'm the only one wh—"

The sound of the bedroom door clicking open interrupts whatever retort I was going to throw at him.

Our eyes meet — mine in panic, his in measured curiosity — and in the next instant, I've grabbed the lapel of his expensive jacket, and yanked him towards me.

We hit the bottom of the tub just as the owner of the manor bursts irately into the room.

"I swear to God, Maxwell," seethes the Duke of Ramsford, the stomp of his pissed-off footsteps echoing off the wood planked floor as he enters the suite, "if one more ruddy bird defecates on my shoe, I'm culling the entire bloody lot!"

"He just got scared!" comes his companion's plaintive response. "You did boot him up the behind in a very undignified fashion..."

"Because he shat on my Oxfords!" cries the Duke, clearly incensed, as he rummages around the closet, no doubt for a replacement pair of loafers.

"Maybe if you tried being nicer to Lord Featherington—"

An unintended snort escapes me. Were these two for real right now?

"You try'na give away our position?" asks the guy from above me, his voice barely a whisper as his face hovers mere inches from mine.

"No," I hiss back, trying to sound irritated even as I struggle to contain another bout of amusement at the sheer hilarity of the situation — listening to two grown men argue about peafowl while trying to hide a third between my legs. "But it sounds like you are."

"I happen to like this position," he murmurs softly, his words sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

"Well, don't get used to it, bud," I reply dryly, trying to ignore the feel of his overwhelming and inescapable proximity, while listening out for the Beaumont brothers. "This is a temporary situation, nothing more."

His whiskey-laced breath washes over my lips. "All the more reason to enjoy it..."

"In that case," I purr, meeting the full force of his rich, mocha-coloured eyes head on, "you wouldn't mind if I'm on top, would you?"

"Not one bit," he grins.

"Good," I smirk back as I begin to shift my weight beneath him. "Because I wouldn't have given you a choice, anyway."

He stifles a scoff as he rolls to the side.

"Something funny?" I ask with a raised brow, scooting out from under him.

"Nope," he replies, snaking a hand around my waist to pull me on top of him. "I'm just here for the ride."

"Then you better get comfortable," I tell him, as the Beaumonts make their way back across the room.

Hearing the door open and click shut again in their wake, I push myself back up, noting with more than a hint of annoyance that I now smell like the warm spice of his aftershave.

But that inconvenience can’t be helped, nor can I let it distract me from the reason I am here. I'll simply have to wait to wash it off in the shower once I am clear of this place.

So, reaching into my up-do, I extract the tension wrench hiding in my hair, and collect my lock-pick from where I dropped it on the bathtub surround earlier before refocusing my attention on the safe.

Upon closer examination, it seems to have three separate compartments, each secured by its own, dedicated lock. And I have no idea which section contained the necklace... or whether there are any hidden alarms embedded in the locking mechanisms if I pick the wrong one.

But, even with the odds — and time — stacked against me, I know I have to make a choice, because I didn't come all this way to chicken out at the final hurdle.

Taking a breath, I lean towards the middle compartment, figuring that out of the three possibilities that woul—

"You're not gonna find it there."

I nearly drop my tools all over the marble tiles.

Gritting my teeth, I glance down between my legs to find Mr Impeccable Timing smirking up at me, his hands folded easily behind his head, like he’s lazing on a tropical beach without a single care in the world, instead of at the bottom of a porcelain tub, with a stranger straddling him.

"Find what?" I bite out testily.

Who knows...? Maybe this is his idea of a good time. But it sure as hell isn’t mine.

"The former Lady Beaumont's one-of-kind Bvlgari necklace that goes up for auction next Tuesday," he replies.

My eyes narrow suspiciously. "And are you going to tell me where it is?"

He holds my gaze silently for a long moment before nodding his head, "Far left."

"Hmph," I huff, not convinced that I can trust him any further than I can throw him; which, given his size — he’s 6ft tall at least — is not very far at all.

But, unfortunately for me, I don't have time to try and psychoanalyse the possibility of whether or not he is trying to play me. The night is wearing on, the Beaumonts could return at any time, and I need to get as far out of the country as humanly possible before anyone notices the theft.

So, I am going to have to take a leap of faith.

Leaning forward again, I slide my tools into the lock of the indicated compartment and start feeling around for the binding pins.

I manage to locate the first and second relatively quickly. But, finding and setting the third proves to be slightly more elusive and I feel myself growing more agitated with each passing second.

"Damn it, why won't you move?!" I seethe under my breath as I battle with the pin.

"Hey, you put me here, remember?" comes the wry response from beneath me. "I just do as I—"

"Oh, screw you..." I huff exasperatedly, lifting my leg to give him a perfunctory knee to the gut.

"Christ, girl!" he wheezes painedly, sitting up behind me. "If you want to play rough then—"

"Gotcha!" I exclaim triumphantly, finally managing to slot the irksome pin into place and making quick work of the fourth.

The door of the compartment pings off its bolts and I drop my tools to open it up eagerly. To my relief, I'm rewarded with a velvet-lined jewellery box, which I pull quickly out.

Laying the container down on the tiles in front of me, I reach for the lid, my heart in my mouth as I lift it up...

...and I can't help but gasp at the sight in front of me.

The diamond necklace is even more stunning in real life than I could've imagined. Several hundred painstakingly curated gems gleam up at me from a nest of black silk, perfectly offsetting the elegance of the winged design to make it seem like the whole necklace is floating.

But, given that I am working on borrowed time thanks to all the unforeseen setbacks that I've run into tonight, I know that I am not going to be able to give the beautiful item the attention it deserves. At least not until I am back home.

So, reaching down, I grab the coolness of the white gold. Quickly unscrewing the heavy clasp, I unfurl the strand of precious metal and slide it down into my bra, giving my breasts a slight readjustment to help conceal my illicit cargo.

Snapping the lid of the box back closed, I turn to face my uncalled-for spectator.

"Right," I say, slotting the box back into its place. "Now that that's done, you're going to tell me exactly who you are and—"

"I wouldn't do that."

"Do what?" I bristle indignantly as I slam the safe's door closed with one hand.

An ear-splitting alarm shrieks to life.

"That," he clarifies blandly.

"Shit!" I gasp, grabbing for my stuff and haphazardly throwing them into the clutch as I scan the bathroom for possible exit points.

But my off-the-cuff plan of jumping out of the second storey window is quickly dashed as the door of the master suite bursts open to disgorge the two security guards from downstairs into the room with guns drawn.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight as the guards start shouting. "Shit..."

"T'enquites pas!" comes the sudden voice of guy from behind me.

Glancing up in surprise, I see that he's pushed himself up to his full height and is gesturing at the guards to lower their weapons.

"Mr Dallas!" cries the Duke of Ramsford, bursting into the room as well. "What in blazes is going on here?" Turning to the guards, he adds, "You twits! That is Mr Dallas — our external security consultant! Apologise at once!"

"No need for that, Lord Beaumont," smiles Dallas, flapping my keycard decoder discreetly behind his back as the alarm is finally turned off. "They're just doing their jobs."

I snatch it out of his hand and stow it in my bag, throwing the satin gloves after it.

"Now, Miss Gale, my associate—"

My eyes widen at the sound of my real name as I flip my clutch closed. How did he—?

"—has your necklace in a very safe place," continues Dallas conversationally, stepping out of the bath. "But obviously, we both feel that the alarm should've gone off a bit sooner. Isn't that right, Miss Gale?"

I quickly paste a demure smile onto my face as I turn around. "Yes. Agreed. Much sooner."

Dallas — if that is even his real name — holds his hand out to help me navigate my exit from the tub in my heels while continuing his disquisition. "Now, given the circumstances, our recommendation would be to reset the sensors to respond to a lighter load. How d'you feel about sixty kilos, Miss Gale?

I shake myself out of my stupor to do some quick mental conversion, before beaming, "Perfect!"

Name? That’s one thing. My exact weight? That’s a whole 'nother league... Because no way had that been a simple guess.

But right now is not the time to ponder whether he's managed to get his hands on my Social Security number as well. Because we’re still very much in deep water.

"Shall we?" asks Dallas graciously, his face a mask of innocence as he holds his hand out in front of me.

"Let's!" I nod eagerly, stepping towards the door, my head still spinning from the sudden whirlwind of events...

...but I feel myself get pulled backwards.

"Erm, Miss Gale..." murmurs Dallas, his dark brows quirking upwards questioningly. "Aren't you... forgetting something?"

I frown in confusion. "Umm... don't think so..."

He fixes me with a level look.

My frown deepens. He’s not serious... Is he?

He stares me down uncompromisingly.

I let out a huff of annoyance.

"My lady!" cries the Duke, clearly scandalised as I reach down between my breasts. "What are you trying to do! Rob me?!"

"The thought had crossed my mind..." I reply with a tight smile, pulling the necklace out and handing it back to its owner.

"Yes, well, thank you for your..." The nobleman gulps visibly as he takes the strand of warmed metal from my hand. "...sincere efforts, Miss—"

But I've already stomped out of the room.

Flying down the grand staircase, I push my way through the — now very much more rowdy — crowd and out of the front doors of the manor, intent on putting as much distance between me and Dallas as I can so I didn't end up murdering him in full view of all of Cordonian high-society.

Un-fucking-bel—

"Harper!"

"You've got to be kidding me..." I grit as I continue my aggravated jog down the carpeted steps, pulling the token out for my car as I went.

"Harper! Wait up!" Dallas hollers again, managing to catch me by the arm just as I hit the last step.

"Fuck off," I snap, wrenching my arm out of his grasp.

He snaps a hold on my wrist to whirl me back around. "Look, just hear me out, will ya?"

"Why should I?" I hiss into his face. "Had it not been for your last minute growth of a conscience, I could've walked out of there with that necklace and that duke would've been none the wiser!"

"At least you walked..."

"Ha! Funny!" I hit back sarcastically, giving him an unmitigated shove to extricating myself from his grasp again. "Only I'm not laughing because your fucking chivalry just cost me a year's worth of work!"

"I needed to see how good you were," he replies evenly.

"Oh, really?" I scoff over my shoulder as I veritably throw the token at the nearby valet manager. “And why is that?"

"I find myself in need of someone of your unique skill-set."

I stare at him incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Yeah. In your dreams, bud! I work alone. And even if I didn't, I would never team up with someone I didn't know, much less—"

"You wanna know me?" he interjects, suddenly up in my space again. "Fine. My name's Drake. Drake Walker and—"

"Let me guess..." I gripe, folding my arms as my Mercedes pulls up. "You're not really the Beaumonts' external security consultant."

"Nope," he confirms, reaching out to grab the driver's side door as the valet gets out. "But, then you're not really Lady Riley Brooks, so I guess we're even on that front..."

I roll my eyes at him.

"...and if we're being honest, I should probably come clean about one more thing."

My eyes widen as he holds up a small fob.

"I triggered the alarm," he admits, pressing the button and causing the manor behind us light up with the wail of the claxton again.

I stare up at him, utterly speechless.

He shrugs down at me apathetically. "Sorry."

I manage to recollect myself enough to throw an ice cold glare at him as I get into the car. "For future reference, I don't do early mornings, date, or put up with two-faced bastards who get a kick out of screwing me over. So, you can take your job offer and shove it, Walker."

Grabbing the door, I slam it closed — getting more than a bit of perverse satisfaction out of the fact that the suddenness of the movement manages to pull him off balance — before kicking the throttle down and leaving him in a cloud of exhaust in my rear view.

Fucking asshole.

The story continues in Part 2 - Hard Drive

Bonus: Artwork

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Picture credits:

Drake - Necklace - Bathtub - Harper

[gemsofgreece]

Γειά! I'm very interested in reading about Greek mythology. Mostly interpretations and deep dives on the origins and context of said mythology. All I've read so far are texts authored by British and American scholars but those are always biased and fitted into not-hellenic cultures. I wonder if you know of an actual Greek source that I could access in Spanish or English? I'd really appreciate it. Have a great day!

Γεια σου! Unfortunately I can't provide very accurate recs because I haven't read much about mythology and because

Foreign scholars hardly translate Greek literary classics (meaning modern classics), let alone Greek research on fields that they have already totally called dibs on.

Greeks themselves traditionally did not care much about mythology and have been studying history way more. The stance they hold towards mythology is that it is a bunch of fairytales suited for kids.

Younger generations are getting more interested in it which had led to an increase in books, references and podcasts about it, however the extreme majority are still adressed to kids. I searched one of the biggest book stores in Greece for recs and out of the 192 Greek mythology books available, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the 170 were meant for kids and then most out of the remaining were translated foreign works.

The most famous Greek book about the mythology is Ελληνική Μυθολογία by Nikos Tsiforos, 1964, 644 pages. This book is very informative and detailed however this is not its actual intent. Written by Tsiforos, who was a screenwriter and director with a very sharp humour and notable for the use of slang (of the time), its main point is the social and political commentary on religion. He was also very interested in drawing parallels and finding influences with other eastern civilizations. A drawback I have seen mentioned lately is that since this is edgy humour of the sixties, it completely lacks in political correctness, which makes some jokes appear irrelevant and insensitive. Greek readers seem to love this book enough to forgive such jokes and all agree about the surprising amount of knowledge and detail concentrated in this book, however unfortunately it is not translated into other languages.

I can translate to you the excerpt above to give you an idea:

"... turned against the idols of the Philistines, those people who historically had Greek origins, the Egyptian gods marched drenched in gold alongside the army to confront the iron gods of the Hittites, the patron saints of Cortés were caught in a catfight with the monstrous gods of Motecuhzoma, and whoever won the match also won the glory and the faith, so try arguing with men thinking that the "protection from above" excused their rights or their injusticies... A deity is necessary in war, because it is based on the highest power of the universe... The human stupidity. The mass human stupidity. The despicable Mr War could not not become a god by the Greeks, people who fought constantly, from their very first day. So he did, and his name was Ares. Behold, then, a Gentleman whom deep inside nobody likes. Neither the people who created him nor the gods who had a brawler in their company. A troublemaker, vile, unconscionable, most rude, never keeping his word - war never has honour anyway..."

It is a great read, but not translated and probably not exactly what you seek.

Then some other ones that are not translated, at least so far, are

Ελληνική Μυθολογία Τόμος Α Εισαγωγή. Ανάλυση και ερμηνεία του ελληνικού μύθου - Greek Mythology. Volume A. Introduction. Analysis and interpretation of Greek myth by Konstantinos Tsatsos, Ioannis Kakridis, Eleni Kehayoglou. Also writes a lot about the origins of every myth and explores the reasons behind their creation. Part of a series on Greek mythology, where most of the work is done by Kakridis, I believe. His full book series is 1680 pages. I believe the Greek Mythology by Kakridis is what you are looking for, but again I don't think there's a translation.

Ελληνική Μυθολογία: οι Θεοί - Greek Mythology: The Gods by Dora Papaioannou, 180 pages. This is an edition in simple, easy Greek, ideal for Greek learners, so I don't know if you are studying Greek, I add it here just in case. Obviously this must mean it doesn't get extremely detailed, although a reader in Goodreviews said it also had myths they did not know about. Papaioannou has written more relevant books in easy Greek, such as for the Trojan War and the Odyssey, with 225 pages.

Even though there are no translations, I thought this was an opportunity to mention these ones for interested Greeks and Greek speakers / learners.

There were more books of course, but they were for children or they focused on beautiful illustrations rather than analysis or didn't have enough ratings in Goodreads yet for me to recommend them.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Round-up of queer stand-up specials that were released in December 2023, and that I have watched (I did not set out to make this a specifically queer list, those just happened to be the three specials released this month that I was interested in seeing, and after I put them together in a list I realized, hey, December 2023 has been a pretty gay month for new British stand-up specials):

Leo Reich – Literally Who Cares (December 18, 2023)

I watched this because I am really trying not to be biased against Gen Z comedy. I think of how annoying it is when older people dismiss “Millennial” anything, and I don’t want to sound like one of those people when I say I think Gen Z comedy is all Tik-Tok stars doing prank videos for people with an attention span of eight seconds. So I have tried to watch their specials. The other one I tried this year was Finlay Christie’s OK Zoomer, which is free on YouTube and was better than I’d expected. There were good jokes in it. But also, throughout the hour (well… throughout the 37 minutes, because he wasn’t doing a lot to combat the idea that Gen Z people are performing for such short attention spans that they run well short of a full hour, but that’s just being picky because I think just about the best thing in the world right now is Sam Campbell and he did ten minutes in Edinburgh this year), I found myself working pretty hard to keep my mind open enough to enjoy it. I’d judge something and then stop myself and say, no, come on, this actually is kind of funny, if you’re not so judgemental (not with all of it thought – like I said, I think some of it is genuinely funny).

I’m pleased to say I did not have to do that with Leo Reich. Not even a little bit. There were a few parts that I didn’t love, but I let myself not love them without guilt, because I liked the vast majority of it so I knew I wasn’t just biased against him. Most of it I genuinely, easily, enjoyed.

And this probably should have been the type of humour that would annoy me. A Gen Z child talking about how very Gen Z he is, how the most stereotypical values of his generation are how we all live our lives now. That kind of things annoys me in general (it annoys me when Millennials do it too though, I don’t love any humour that’s too focused on generational stereotypes), and there were a few times when it annoyed me in Leo Reich’s show too. But only a few times, which is impressive given that that makes up so much of the show. I enjoyed most of it.

It makes me think of when I watched Maisie Adam’s show from the year she got married. So much of it was about her wedding, pointing out the sexism and just general stupidity of so many wedding traditions, and laughing at herself for how silly it is that she has to engage in them. And some of the humour got lost on me, because I kept thinking… well just don’t do it then. You’re right, obviously the father giving away his daughter is ridiculous. But you’re not the first point to point out the weirdness of this trend that we all have to follow. Most people have noticed that, and lots of them choose to not do it. You haven’t explained why you’re still doing it.

There were times when Leo Reich’s show made me think that, but about the performative social media obsessions of Gen Z rather than terrible wedding traditions. I appreciated it, when I heard him talk about how it warps people’s minds to live according to what will look best on Instagram. But I kept thinking… you haven’t justified why you’re doing it, though. This would work better if Instagram were something we absolutely had to do, and you’re pointing out the flaws in this system where we’re all unfortunately stuck. But you know we’re not, right? It’s like someone with their arm trapped under an easily liftable rock, doing funny observations about why the rock is so painful. It works best if you give some explanation for why you haven’t lifted the rock.

Obviously it isn’t that easy, obviously social media companies are spending billions of dollars to figure out exactly how to manipulate the chemicals in young developing brains (and older brains, but it’s even more common among young ones) to keep them addicted to it. I know that, and I see it in the teenagers I work with, and because of that, I do find it interesting to hear from the perspective of someone who is steeped in it. What’s it like in there? Why are you doing it? (I guess I shouldn’t condescendingly pretend to be so above it all because I have a Tumblr blog and am also imperfect for many reasons, I know.)

This is one of those extremely confessional stand-up shows, one of those “I’m laying out all my secret flaws and the most fucked up things I’ve done even though they might make me unlikeable, because I’m rebelling against the requirement to paint a sanitized public image of ourselves” shows. And there were a couple of points when I thought he might have succeeded slightly too well in his quest to make himself seem unlikeable. But only a couple.

This post has focused way too much on the negative for a show that I actually really liked. Let me be clear: I really liked this show. I’m being nitpicky about some parts that left me slightly cold, but overall, I thought it was great. It was smart and funny and it had well-shoehorned dramatic callbacks, I always like those. It had an interesting perspective and interesting points. It had ridiculously good production values for a show by someone so young, which makes me think we’ll be seeing a lot more of Leo Reich in the near future, if they invested that much money in filming him.

I didn’t have to force myself to enjoy this. It was good. It was about coming of age as a queer 23-year-old, and relationships, and the ways in which the panopticon of social media will fuck you up. Parts of it were sad. I’ve heard worse ideas than Leo Reich being the future of entertainment.

Jen Brister – The Optimist (December 14, 2023)

From the 23-year-old bisexual single boy, to the middle-aged married lesbian mother. Queer comedy is a spectrum.

I didn’t enjoy this one quite as much as her previous special, Meaningless, but Jen Brister is always good, and that includes this one. It was consistent, it felt polished in the way that you don’t tend to get until someone’s been doing this for a lot of years. Everything flowed and cohered.

It was a special about lockdown and about parenting, and about lockdown parenting. Lockdown and parenting are two of the subjects I’ve most often heard people say they’re sick of hearing about in stand-up, they’ve been done to death and everyone is bored of hearing any more. Jen Brister acknowledges this early on, saying she tries not to talk about her kids all the time on stage, because people are always saying they’re sick of hearing about her kids.

But then she proceeds to talk quite a bit about her kids anyway, which is fair enough. She has five-year-old twin boys – at that point, your kids are such a massive part of your everyday life that I can understand why parents have difficulty talking about anything else (in life or on stage). And while most (most, there are exceptions) parenting material isn’t really my thing, I’m glad it’s out there. Because there are a lot of people who dedicate most waking minutes of their life to focusing on being a parent, and it’s probably nice for them to go out afterward and hear comedy that reflects their experiences, that makes fun of the most frustrating and absurd parts of that life. It’s just not my life, so I’m not really in on the joke.

Jen Brister does a better job than a lot of comedians of including non-parents on the jokes, and they did make me laugh at times. My favourite parts of the show were when she veered away from the parenthood stories and into broader topics, but still, as far as parenthood-based comedy goes, I think she does it well.

The trademark anger is still there, and I still think that’s when Jen Brister is at her best. When she’s getting furious about important and unimportant topics equally. Her previous special, Meaningless, had some excellent, searing fury about feminist issues, and also a lot of lighter topics for frustration. This one doesn’t quite hit the searing highs of Meaningless, but it’s still got the anger, about, you know, all of it. Walking around looking at all the terrible people out there. What that’s like. She touches on that.

I’ve said before that I find it funny that NextUp’s “Angry Acts” collection only has seven acts in it, and two of them are Michael Legge. Worth noting that one of them is also Jen Brister. Her show Meaningless is on there as well as on Amazon Prime, it’s worth watching:

Mild spoiler alert, this is one of those comedy specials with a sad bit at the end. I found that bit worked well because I’m already pretty familiar with her comedy catalogue, where (less mild spoiler alert, seriously, stop reading if you plan to watch, this special is free on YouTube and it’s worth watching and if you do then it’s worth going in without knowing the ending) her mother featured quite heavily, so it was a bit of a gut punch to learn that her famous (famous from Jen Brister’s stand-up routines, not actually famous) mother had recently died.

If you don’t already know who she is, I think the sad ending bit might have not quite worked as well as it could have. It could have been built up to more, been given a bit more time to expand. The callbacks were nice, but a bit tacked on, they could have been built deeper into the show. But still, I found the ending interesting.

Susie McCabe – Femme Fatality (December 24, 2023)

I’ll say right now that this was my favourite of the three. I was so excited to finally get to see a full Susie McCabe special. I was introduced to her by Frankie Boyle’s New World Order, where she was a recurring guest, and she was always excellent. So I sought out her other work, and was disappointed to find that while she’s clearly got quite a successful stand-up career going within Glasgow, she hasn’t gotten big enough to have done a lot of stuff that I can easily see from Canada. Apparently she’s a regular compere at The Stand in Glasgow. One time she went on TV and said good things about trans women and then got called horrifying things by transphobes for a while, because it turns out that those people are not actually interested in being nice to lesbians.

Anyway, the point is that I was very pleased to see she has filmed a stand-up hour about exploring her relationship to womanhood, and I was not disappointed. The gender that she’s exploring is being a cis butch woman, which is, you know, my thing. I enjoy hearing people of all genders explore their relationship to gender, but I do connect especially well when it my gendered experience being discussed.

The show’s central topic is a fairly heavy one, which makes it all the more impressive that she keeps the show very light. It’s funny. It’s funny, and at no point does it get sad. It briefly gets serious, particularly at the end, and I guess if I wanted to be nitpicky about something, I could say that maybe she could also have drawn that ending out a little more, made her central points a little more clearly (I see the points she was going for, about the pressure to fit into masculine expectations and how that pressure is on cis men but it’s also on butch women who want to fit in with those cis men), could have explored that a bit. But this show wasn’t really about exploring the deep important points. It was about telling funny stories that come together on the central theme of what being a butch woman is like. And I loved listening to it.

There are other types of identity that come into this show – being Glaswegian and working class. But she never actually uses the words “working class”, she never gets deep into talking about serious stuff related to that either. Just funny stories about what life is like when you’re Glaswegian and butch and working class. It's fun and easy to enjoy. I almost wrote "fun and easy", but of course it wasn't easy to write. But it's easy to watch and laugh. It's warm and accessible (again, I feel like "accessible" is a backhanded compliment, I really don't mean it that way, I just mean you don't have to be a working class Glaswegian butch lesbian to enjoy it).

She gets into her history, her family, her co-workers, her deep, identity-level connection with butchness and lesbianism. The fucked up parts of female gendered expectations, particularly around being skinny and diet culture and intergenerational trauma that gets passed down through mothers indoctrinated with said culture. But she gets into it with such a light touch. She's so likeable and so much fun to watch. Quick to make fun of herself and hold no pretensions.

One of the shitty things about Frankie Boyle's New World Order getting cancelled is that he brought on several comedians I had not seen on any other TV shows - Jen Brister and Susie McCabe are actually both people I was introduced to by that show. Frankie Boyle was single-handedly keeping middle-aged lesbians on our TV screens, and now that he's out of the game, someone else needs to step up because I want to see Susie McCabe on more things.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Rage Fire Institution

Building. 28.

“Where the hell have you been? Do you not check your damn comms? Seriously, like what the hell, man?”

Tatsumi was on his way back to the institution by capsule car when he’d passed Maki walking into the city. Ending the ride early, he’d climbed out the capsule car on instinct, jogging after the alpha until he’d caught up. Surprising Maki, he’d grabbed him by the arm, Maki going to take a swing at him until he realised who Tatsumi was. Grabbing him by his jacket, the alpha had shaken him, getting right up into his face.

Tatsumi knew full well why Maki had skipped school and taken off. He’d not been there for Maki to talk to, and with the rumour circulating, he’d have had a tough time keeping his temper. Tatsumi was sincerish as he apologised and explained

“I’m sorry. I visited my mother this morning”

At the mention of family, Maki let out a sigh, releasing him. Both of them knew the value of family and both of them had complicated family history. Still, the young alpha looked pissed off, striding away from him before throwing himself down on the first empty bench, leaving Tatsumi to follow after him.

Sitting beside Maki, Maki sighed again, pulling out his cigarettes as he did. Sliding one out of the pack, the alpha lit it, taking a deep draw before starting to talk

“Seriously, you pissed off. You said you’d be there for me and you weren’t”

He’d let the man down. Tatsumi interlacing his fingers together between his knees

“I’m sorry. I admit it. I overthought the situation so I took time to go see my mother. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this”

“I was already part of this. This is bullshit”

“I know. I was selfish again”

“You’re going to have to explain it to me because a lot happened that I’m not understanding”

It wasn’t as if Tatsumi understood the rumour either. All he’d done was walk back with Maki. It wasn’t as if they’d been caught making out in the locker room

“I don’t know. I know about as much as you do about this rumour”

“Not that… ugh! This is so frustrating. Why did you say you were being selfish again? What did you do this time?”

Tatsumi forced a snort, and the humour in his tone

“I’m afraid you’ll hit me if I tell you”

“I’m going to hit you if you don’t. Spill. What shit did you do this time?”

“It’s very stupid on my behalf. I was thinking… well, I was thinking if I wasn’t at the school then you wouldn’t have to suffer this stupid rumour, as if I could protect you, but we both know that’s selfish and pig headed. You never asked for me to leave or for me to protect you. It’s an insult to you to act so presumptuously”

“You’re right. How can someone as smart as you be so goddamn dumb? We didn’t do anything wrong”

“No, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be believed. I was on my way back to talk to you, but you’d already skipped out”

Maki flicked the ash of his cigarette, a frown firmly on his lips

“That’s because you weren’t there to talk to. I had to tell the principal nothing had happened. And I had to be lectured over my rut. They wanted me to be marked temporarily. What a load of shit. If my suppressants are working, why should I have to be marked to compete? Did anyone ever make you be temporarily marked?”

Tatsumi didn’t bother picking his words carefully seeing Maki had seen his back

“No. And I’ve never marked anyone either. I’ve had exs before, but none of them I’d mark. At the time it was a different matter, but there was only one person I’d let mark me”

“Who’s that?”

Tatsumi looked to Maki, not blaming him for being curious

“The one I love and loves me in return. I’m sure it’s hopelessly pathetic. A grown man who won’t let anyone close, but still finds on occasion he believes in love. No one would mate an omega obsessed with piloting and covered in scars”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, you’re not that bad”

Tatsumi sighed sadly. He felt he was, and that he’d really let Maki down by not being the cool mature adult

“I think I might be. I manipulated you into this competition”

“And you apologised”

“But it still happened. I wondered if maybe I should assign you a new instructor… but I can’t do that. I promised I’d do everything I could. So, yeah, I came back because I knew you’d be mad over all these thoughts”

Maki took a deep drag, then turned the cigarette around, holding it out with the cherry towards his palm until Tatsumi took it. Taking a deep draw, Tatsumi tasted the cheapness of it. When they’d all been soldiers, the blend was their standard go to. Maki must have picked up the brand from Donny’s. The alpha choosing his words carefully as he replied

“You’re right, I’m pissed off. I didn’t ask for your protection… I didn’t ask for you think you needed to skip through or pass me off. But I do get it. Li used to cop a lot of shit for knowing me, but he stuck by me”

Taking another deep draw, Tatsumi then passed the cigarette back

“It’s rough when you want to protect a friend from yourself”

“It’s shit. We didn’t do anything wrong and we’re the ones who have to cop it. I can’t wait until I’m in my mech throwing it back in their faces. Which reminds me, the principal changed the fucking design. He wants white and orange all over the mech. Rage Fire pride and all that”

After deciding everything, they’d been beaten by the principal. Tatsumi was about to be annoyed, until he remembered something important

“We can do that”

“You’re not listening. He wants it like all white with these damn lines like a bow”

Tatsumi’s nose twitched with the desire to scrunch his face up in disgust. There was no accounting for some people’s taste

“We can use projection. Technically we could also use motion activated changing paint particles. It’d appear how he wants until the mech boots up”

“I don’t want people looking at my mech and laughing. It looks sooo bad”

After months to get to where they were between them, Tatsumi wasn’t losing the competition because the school didn’t understand how a paint job affected a pilot

“Then we’ll use a wrap. Once it’s been inspected by the school, we’ll strip it off. We can claim it happened in transport. It’s not that unusual for surface damage to happen during transport”

Maki’s eyes watered as he choked on his draw, coughing out

“You’d do that?”

“For a friend. The school doesn’t always know what’s best for its students and they can’t do much if we’re not here. It’s not like they can suspend you either because that would leave them with a trained pilot who could pilot an Erebus but no formal training, and a pilot who can pilot an Erebus sitting on the sidelines”

The man’s shoulders slumped

“I haven’t even gotten in one yet. We don’t have much time left at all”

No. The competition was growing alarmingly closer by the day. Tatsumi agreeing with a side of teasing

“This is true. We have even less when you’re skipping out on school”

Taking his final drag, the alpha dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot as he replied

“I told you I had to get out of there”

“And where were you headed?”

“To a club… it’s stupid”

Going to Donny’s was probably one of Maki’s safer ideas. He could work out his rage against the world, and make a few dollars at the same time. Still, Tatsumi couldn’t really walk into there without Maki getting upset that he was a regular there… and he wasn’t ready for that quite yet. It was different when he made sure Maki wasn’t getting into trouble compared to someone blurting out that Tatsumi’s whole team had died and he was the only one who came back and that was thanks to his estrus driving his body temperature up.

Clearing his throat, Tatsumi ignored the niggle on his conscious. Once the competition was over he’d tell Maki every last detail. He’d confess as he’d nearly done when he’d asked Maki to come with him when they’d been in Poaw’s lab

“Instead of going to a club, how would you feel about pilot training?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to be overly level headed”

“What if I tell you that was what I intended before all this went down?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been doing so much training I’ve really been neglecting the project”

“Then now is the perfect time. We’ll share the data with our team and plan our next step together. Once the competition is over I have a lot I want to tell you”

Maki threw him for a loop

“You make it sound like it’s us against the world… but, honestly, I don’t think that sounds too bad. The expilot and the up and coming rookie of the year. By the time they see us coming, it’ll be too late. No one will be looking down at us”

Maki’s words went straight to Tatsumi’s heart as it gave a funny beat. He wasn’t sure what it meant, yet it felt as if he should

“Let’s get going, partner of mine”

“Sure. Lead the way, partner”

***

Returning to the institution, Maki held his head high and his shoulders square. He’d been so angry until he’d run into Tatsumi, and he was still slightly angry that Tatsumi had been so stupid, yet he wasn’t about to let a rumour stop them now. Adjusting his step half an inch over, he’d been walking so close to Tatsumi that his hand kept brushing against the man’s. Tatsumi didn’t seem to notice at all, but Maki on the other hand was hyper aware of each glancing touch seeing he’d said some pretty stupid things and now they were “partners”. Still, the wobbly line had been clarified and now he knew for sure that Tatsumi did see him as a friend and not a pawn any longer.

Following his friend into the labs, Tatsumi took a different route to normal, Maki finding himself passing classrooms of students as they walked. It was strange. He knew students had classes, obviously, but normally he’d skip this part of the research wing. Part of him wondered what they were learning, and how it differed to the piloting classes, while the other part was focused on not letting Tatsumi knew how curious he was.

Finally Tatsumi made a turn onto a corridor he recognised. His mech was being held there while being fitted for its new parts. It wasn’t until they’d cleared the door to the mech room that he remembered something important

“Wait, my suit is in my room…”

“You can borrow one of mine. Mine are calibrated for Erebuses as well as the TC’s and I don’t think it’ll affect your synch rate too badly”

But he liked his suit. Then again, he’d never tried on one of Tatsumi’s before and he doubted he’d have the chance to experience a different suit again

“Alright. Do we get changed now?”

“Yep. Unless you want to try piloting in your uniform?”

“That’s a pass. It’s a pain in the arse keeping my suit clean as it is”

“Wait until you’re in active duty. You’ll give up. Sometimes it’s weeks between washes, for both you and your suit”

“That sounds disgusting”

“It’s not so bad. Besides, I think you’re going to like today’s practice”

Going and changing, Tatsumi was done before he was. The man disappearing to change in private while Maki didn’t give two shits about stripping and changing right there in the locker room. It did annoy him that Tatsumi had clammed up over his scars again, but he understood better now that Tatsumi would let him see them again when the man felt better about them. Coming out the locker room, Tatsumi had moved one training mech closer, causing Maki to frown seeing there were two pilots and one mech in place

“I’m not training?”

Striding over to him, Tatsumi proved he couldn’t kick his meddlesome streak as he straightened up Maki’s borrowed suit. It didn’t quite sit right, but the fabric felt alright and it wasn’t cutting in

“No, you are. We’ve already socketed the legs in preparation for modding. Today you’re climbing in your Erebus for the first time. I’ll be in the TC to stop you if things go wrong”

His Erebus wasn’t ready. Maki wasn’t ready. He thought his mods would be on the first time he got to pilot his beast

“Are you sure it’s ready? I thought…”

“It’s functionally ready. We had to boot it anyway to run a diagnostics before and after the legs were installed. You have no weapons or barrier capabilities at the moment, but it’s fine for basic movements”

“You’ve been working on it, haven’t you?”

“Someone’s got to. Call it a perk of being a returnee. I’m only enrolled in the classes I wanted to take and I’m generally a run around otherwise. How else do you think I had the time to be in the teachers lounge?”

Maki frowned at the idea of all the loose ends being pushed onto Tatsumi to do. It wasn’t fair

“You should stop doing that. You’re not a dog”

“No, but when you come back under special circumstances, you find yourself as lost as everyone is unsure how to use you. Now, don’t forget, this is your first time in one. Don’t worry about your start time or delays. If your synch rate drops below 70 percent, I’ll pull you out. You’re in a different suit and new mech. No showing off. I’ll keep my comms open and you’ll do the same. No one’s laughing. No one’s watching. We’ll do basic movements only. You’re not going to be a failure or a fuck up because we’re all failures and fuck ups the first time we try something new”

Maki smacked away Tatsumi’s hand

“I’m not a child. I can come to conclusions myself”

“I was wrecked the first time I piloted an Erebus. Jelly legged, dizzy, and sprouting shit. Anything that happens stays between us”

Bitterly Maki was reminded of Poaw’s lab. It’d taken longer than usual to calm his alpha blood down afterwards

“You mean if I pop another boner”

Tatsumi shrugged it off

“That too. All your systems are taxed in a mech. Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before”

“Still…”

“You’re fine”

He didn’t feel fine, nor did the alpha feel prepared to handle so much mech

“Tatsumi, have you ever seen it go wrong before?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m taking care with you and introducing you to the mental load. I’m here and I won’t let it go wrong for you. What happened to the cocksure alpha that I met all those months ago?”

“Someone went and gave him a damn wake up call. I don’t want to fuck up”

“You will and that’s okay. I know the system you’re using. I can handle things. Trust remember”

Yeah. Yeah. Maki did trust Tatsumi. It was himself he doubted

“Alright. I guess it’s time to boot up?”

“Yep”

Climbing into the cockpit, Maki settled himself in. Triple checking he was seated and belted correctly, before remembering to turn his comms on. Tatsumi was already activated and waiting for him

“I’m in”

“Good job. Step one is done. Take as long as you need, there’s no rush”

No need to rush… No need to rush. Maki felt he was being a coward, and also as if he kind of had to cover himself. He’d wanted so much to be inside his new mech, yet it was truly terrifying how much power would be at his hands once he booted it up. Lamely, he mumbled

“I’m supposed to be in class”

“And I’ll provide an explanation”

“Skylark sent me”

“He’ll understand. It’s a bit late for him not to”

“That’s true. I’m going to start boot sequence”

“You’ve got this”

Powering up his mech, Maki felt the difference between the TC and Erebus straight away. The Erebus felt heavy. Heavy and clunky, as if it were the first time he was piloting anything. He’d felt the pressure in the simulated set up, but that didn’t have the cocooning effect of the cockpit. Taking half a dozen deep breaths, Mako focused on his breathing as everything settled around him, Tatsumi’s voice coming through the comms

“Congratulations on your successful boot”

The alpha’s cheeks dusted red in embarrassment

“I’ve only booted it up”

“No, you successfully booted it up. Each process is a step. Steps may seem trivial but it’s important you recognise each one”

“Says the man with years of experience”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I wish I had someone patient enough to tell me these things. My best friend did, but that’s between pilots, not student and teacher. Though it would have been creepy as fuck if it’d been Skylark being supportive”

Maki snorted. He actually preferred Skylark being angry. He knew how to handle that

“I can’t picture it. He freaks me out when he’s nice”

“You said the same thing about me. She feels heavy right? It’s normal. It’ll feel better the second time you boot, and before you know it, you’ll forget you’re even in a hunk of metal”

“I can feel her power… wait… her?”

Tatsumi hummed happily

“Yep. It’s like how on Earth II a ship was always a she. Of course, it’s down to pilot preferences. So until you tell me what you intend to name it, it’s a she”

Why would he be naming a mech that wasn’t his? If anything the school should be naming it seeing they intended to cover it in their hideous paint job

“I don’t get it, the school owns the mech”

“And you’re the designated pilot. The only designated pilot. In that sense it’s yours. It’s not like I have the money to be buy you your own mech, so why look too closely at the details?”

“Because I don’t want to pay for repairs?”

Tatsumi laughed openly. Maki finding his lips turning upwards. He might not technically own the mech, but Tatsumi was right. It was his, at least for now. On the screen rate his synch rate rose by 1 percent to 79, of course Tatsumi noticed

“See, it likes you too. We’ll start with walking first. I know it’s boring, but basics come first. Walking to jogging, jogging to running. Running to grappling”

“You don’t need to keep talking down to me”

“I’m not. At least, I promise I didn’t mean to. I’m excited and I tend to be annoying when I’m excited”

That anyone would be excited for him was a nervous feeling. Maki didn’t really get it, but he kind of did. It was like the happiness he felt when his friends did a good job… only he was embarrassed because he was at the centre of it

“My synch rate isn’t even 80”

Tatsumi lifted his mech’s arms, turning them and clenching his hands into fists

“Not yet. Mine’s not 100 and I know TC’s like the back of my hand”

“Is that because of your accident?”

Maki kicked himself as soon as he asked the question. Tatsumi was trying to build his confidence and there he was bringing up the man’s trauma

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve never hit 100 percent synch rate. No one does. It’s like finding a 100 percent pheromone match, rare as fuck”

“What’s your top then?”

“93, in my own mech after years on the field. I’ve hit low 60’s before, felt like I’d never stand upright again”

What did that say for his chance if even an ex pilot had trouble with his synch rates after all the training he’d been through?

“Shit”

“Pretty much. Let’s take a walk. Don’t look at your rates. Just keep breathing and let me know if you need a break”

Walking was a lesson in patience. The pilot in him wanted to proceed past simple movements, especially after being limited by Poaw’s lab, but the friend he wanted to be was telling him to trust that Tatsumi knew what he was talking about. So he walked… around in big dumb laps of the room until finally it felt easier to move. In his TC, Tatsumi seemed so small, as if Maki could reach out his mech’s hand and crush the TC around his friend like crushing a can. How Tatsumi planned to stop him if something went wrong, the alpha didn’t know, yet Tatsumi had promised him he’d be there and Maki wanted to trust in that.

“How are you feeling now?”

Jumping at Tatsumi’s question, Maki hadn’t realised their conversation had lapsed somewhere along the line

“She feels better”

“That’s good. Are you up for trying to jog, or would you like to try copying my movements?”

“I thought you said there were steps to this?”

“There are, but you’re going to hit your limit sooner rather than later so I thought I’d give you the option”

“I’m not going to love this, am I?”

“It’s up to you. Remember, it’s only the two of us here. If we make fools of ourselves no one’s going to know”

As much as Maki wanted to race ahead, he needed to know how the mech felt slightly off balance, making jogging the next logical step over anything more complicated

“I’ll know… I think I should follow your steps and not rush it”

“Okay. 5 laps jogging, one cool down walk, then we’ll call it there”

“Yes, sir”

Tatsumi laughed at his use of sir

“I know I’m old, but calling me sir seems a bit much. Grandpa is better”

“Fine, yes Grandpa. Your grandson will try to remember”

“Good, good. Come on young cricket”

Starting with the intention of simply jogging, Maki accidentally let his competitive side out. When Tatsumi would pass him, he’d pick up the pace, then Tatsumi would pick his up, resulting in a foot race between the pair of them. He’d meant to follow the man’s steps clearly, yet couldn’t help himself. They were racing with no real finish line and for absolutely no reason, yet neither of them stopped or thought to stop. Maki couldn’t tell how many laps they’d done in the end before Tatsumi staggered into the middle of the space and powered down his mech. Just to be a shit, the alpha ran another lap around his tutor before slowing down walking his mech over to stand back against the wall where he climbed in.

By the time he’d climbed out, Tatsumi was out of his mech. Maki making his way over to him feeling foolish for pushing himself a bit too hard, yet happy over their dumb little race. He could do it. He’d successfully piloted his Erebus. This should have been his golden moment, only, he managed to trip over his two feet, crashing into Tatsumi and taking them both down.

Having crashed to the floor, Maki instantly felt embarrassed, until Tatsumi started laughing. It didn’t take long until he was laughing too. Laying next to each other on the floor, both of them were spent, yet the mood was good. They’d accomplished a lot during training and both were happy for each other. Turning his head towards him, his friend did the same. Tatsumi’s cheeks were flushed red, his face as sweaty as Maki’s and his smile open and unguarded

“You did great today”

“I did, didn’t I?!”

“Although I’m not sure about that foot race at the end”

Maki snorted, rolling on his side to face Tatsumi better, then deciding that the angle was too weird. Wriggling over he dropped his head on Tatsumi’s stomach, rolling himself back onto his back. It was the best he could do in terms of a hug of appreciation and didn’t want to make it weird by actually hugging Tatsumi

“You started it. You kept getting in front of me”

“Yeah, that might have been my fault. I was excited for you and I forgot to keep pace, especially seeing my stride is shorter than yours”

“Still, that was a ball buster. I can’t feel my legs. Let your grandson use your lap for a bit”

“This old man has no problems with that. After all, you were so excited you crash tackled me down”

Maki faked a pout and a huff

“My legs gave out because someone can’t play nicely”

Bringing his hand up, Tatsumi smacked him the face, before dragging his hand up to ruffle Maki’s hair

“You did good. It’s a huge jump but you did good. Piloting isn’t as bad as you thought, right?”

Maki sighed, with the mood being open, and good, he let his feeling then slide off his tongue

“I didn’t care to begin with. I worked as hard as I could to get in. Then… then when I started piloting the TC’s I hated it. I didn’t care if I was punished or couldn’t pilot, I just wanted to do my time here and then go straight into a two year rotation. Running laps meant not having to deal with anyone else and not piloting meant I didn’t have to think of everyone else. I didn’t think piloting could actually feel good. No one expects me to think. They think I’m a dumb delinquent so I went along with it. I was supposed to do my time and get out. Then you told me about that TC and that was the first time I truly enjoyed it. I was so mad at you… I… you made start questioning things. I wasn’t supposed to care about research too… but I like it. I like knowing how it all comes together. I even like our project team… You had your own motives, but right now, I feel like I can do anything and that’s because of you. I’m like, having the time of my life”

A long silence passed between them, so long that Maki’s happiness started to waver, before Tatsumi finally replied

“Hey, Maki. Want to get out of here?”

“And go where?”

Maki tilted his head back, trying to see Tatsumi’s face, but all he could see was up his nose and the movement of his lips

“There’s someone I want you to meet, but that’s only if you want to”

“Why not? It beats Skylark finding me. I don’t want to think about that”

“Okay… but let’s lay here a little longer. You young alphas have too much energy”

“Bah, you poor old man. Take as much time as you need, Grandpa”

As Tatsumi got up from under him, Maki was still confused by what was happening when his head hit the floor. Getting to his feet, Tatsumi held his hand up, Maki groaning up at him

“What happened to resting?”

“Someone called me old. Come on, get up”

“How can you be so spry? I can’t feel my legs”

“You’ll never last a mating rut if you let a little exhaustion get to you. Shower here and we’ll go”

Maki raised a hand, Tatsumi grabbing it to pull him up. He’d thought a hug between them would be awkward, yet it felt nice as he found himself hugged. Tatsumi’s breath against his ear

“You did good today. Don’t forget that”

Returning the hug, Maki blamed the redness in his cheeks on training

“I won’t. Thank you”

[sorchaivy]

TL;DR - Sir Terry Pratchett continues to be an amazing presence in so many lives, and will do so for as long as his books (over 70 of them!) are read and loved. So pretty much as long as literate humanity continues to exist, I reckon.

I first wrote this on the morning that he passed away. It holds true eight years later.

~~~

Because I never can just say something simply, I have to go back and try again.

Which seems fitting. Since it was Sir Pterry (note spelling) who first introduced me to the concept of the "Draft 0". Draft 0 is pretty simple, he said. You just write. You write everything you could possibly need, and an awful lot you possibly won't, and then some more that you certainly won't. You write and write until it's all there on the page, your verbal block of marble.

And THEN you start carving out the piece, the story, the masterwork. Storycraft as sculpture. It's a metaphor that appeals to me.

He said that in a talk he gave at Melbourne University, which Mum took me to see back in, oh, would have been 2006, I think. That was the same talk where I heard the Best Cosplaying Story ever. Where he talked about going into the Outback, looking up at the stars, and realising that Orion was upside down, and what a giddy, marvellous, humbling moment that was. And where I discovered that he thought Sam Vimes was a better man than he was himself (I would respectfully disagree, but in fairness I only ever really met Sam).

Terry Pratchett has been a part of my life since Mum first handed me "Mort" at age 15 and said, "I think you might like this." (She was right.) He had a gift for saying a thing in a way that made it seem like it had always been obvious, and yet was completely revelatory at the same time.

His books helped me walk away from organised religion (and, ultimately, theism full stop). Helped me forge my own moral and ethical codes. Helped me enter the heady world of critical thinking. Helped me find humour and gentle amusement in the foibles and oddities of this weird species we belong to (don't get me wrong, I still get furious at deliberate ignorance, bigotry and cruelty; but simple mistakes and errors don't infuriate me as much as they did before I encountered his affection for the stupidity of people). Helped me when Mum died. Helped me when things seemed to fall apart, and when things seemed to be going so impossibly right that I was waiting for the other shoe (not Reg).

Sir Terry once wrote that a person's life isn't truly ended until the last ripples of their life dies away. Until the clock they wound winds down. Until the words they spoke no longer echo. Until the worlds they wrote no longer spin. Until the Turtle no longer moves.

My sister called to see if I was okay. She said, "He never meant as much to me, but for you, it's like you've lost 1,000 friends all at once."

And I smiled. I honestly did. Right there on the tram. Because you know what? I haven't. They're all still there, in the books on my shelves, in the places in my head, in my bones. And a little piece of him is in every single one. I haven't lost anything, not truly.

His family. His friends. The people who had the privilege (and, possibly, frustration) of knowing him, the man behind the words, the humanest human, who talked and laughed and swore and wept and breathed and ate and shat and slept and snored and sneezed and all the little things that will suddenly mean so much. Because now he is not doing any of them.

Those are the people my heart breaks for now. Not myself. Not those of us who were touched by the works but not the man. We still get to hold him and his memory, and we haven't lost anything at all, not truly. But they have. So spare a moment's thought for the ripple that is a tidal wave passing through their lives right now.

And I hope that, in time, they too can draw comfort from the knowledge that the ripples are still going. That they may never stop.

The Turtle Still Moves.

Vale Sir Pterry. You aten't dead. Not to me.

[kpophubb]

Heyy~ it's me! Your Hee Anonie !

Also yes Hapoy Belated Hee Day! This angst is my gift ?? Idk 🫠

P-2 !

You were going to break up with him. Yes. It was going to hurt like fuck but it's for the better. You don't deserve to be treated this way. Tight schedules are one thing but this is too much. It's getting to his head.

How dare he yell at you as if you are the one in wrong. Honestly a part of you really felt bad and cried the entire night over the fact he was throwing away your food. But it's not about the food now. It's about him lying to you. To the members about you. And knocking off your sincerity just like that.

You have called him about 7 times now. It's been 3 hours since the last call. Honestly you have given up now. It's been a terrible day. The work was long, it started raining and obviously you didn't have an umbrella, you come back home to no replies from your beloved boyfriend. That night you wake up with a fever.

You text Hee. Asking if he could come over. He replies with "I'm busy". Oh, so he isn't gonna talk about the previous 15 messages and 7 missed calls ?? Fine then. Fever or not. You weren't gonna ask help from someone who isn't interested. Thankfully you atleast had good friends who respond and help you in the time of need.

It's been two days since then. You haven't texted him. He hasn't obviously sent anything your way. You didn't want to do this. Looks like you weren't getting much choice.

You were gonna break things off over a text message. A new low for you but he was the one not cooperating. Should've gotten hints with "I have something important to talk" "I want to talk about us" etc.

You sent him the message. He reads it and calls you. So now he is interested in communication? Oh wow. scoffing you pick up the call. He doesn't even give you a chance and goes on

"Babe please don't do this-"

You don't need or want to hear his bullshit so you tell him to keep it to himself, how he threw away your sincerity and how unwell you were 2 days ago. Coughing, throwing up and going out in fever to buy your meds. Thankfully your friends were there to help you through it. Honestly you were just gonna cut the call. Already having a headache from a 3 minute conversation. It's what he says next that actually makes you stop.

"I have been sick for a week now. I have been under a lot of pressure. I didn't want to put pressure on you, that's why I have been distant. I really love you y/n"

It sounds so stupid but somehow you feel super bad now. He was sick too. He didn't have you either when he was unwell. This doesn't fix any of his behaviour. But just hearing him. His sweet voice. Communicating. Telling you how he has been makes you rethink everything.

He says he can't come over now because he is still sick and doctors have advised him bed rest. That night, you and him talk peacefully (for the first time in months for 30 mins)

Although you felt very guilty you also felt that maybe you two could fix this after all ......

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ok SO I KNOW NOT THE DIRECTION WE ALL WERE HOPING FOR BUT WAIT FOR IT OK OK ???

ALSO ILYSM AND ily talking to you!!! Also I am soo happy you like my soft/angst hours or just communicating with me !!! (Hee take notes) I love sending you asks and just can't help myself when they get tooooo long !!

Also yes Gyu the pretty boy with the best humour, sensitivity, and visuals. He is gonna make y/n happy....or is he 🤨🤨 dkdjdjWAIT FOR IT 🤌

Ik this is vv long but still one last thing-

Pls your tmi are so imp and cute and msndkd that I have to address them ALL in full detail in another message itself. So firstly I really hope you enjoy your vacation because I know for a fact that Med School is not at all easy and you totally need a huge long vacation to enjoy yourself because you are not going to be able to get a breather or as much time as one would like to chill when it all starts. And I want our asks to be something you look fondly back at when you are busy in med school soo I am gonna try and send the best asks hehehe !!!

Also gyu the pretty savior!! We stan 🙌

Hello and welcome back again my lady 🥺🫶🏻 you know when I saw this ask it was 1:30 am last night and I remember the last thing I saw before dozing off was your ask, I locked my screen like that and fell asleep the next second. And then right when I woke up today morning, I came to check this ask again so I went to sleep and woke up with your ask. How lovable!🥹🤍

Wow omg where is the story going!😭 this is so unpredictable (which just makes it sm more interesting) poor y/n.. she’s going through so much. HEE IS BEING SO MANIPULATIVE OMG he treats her like trash and now that..she wants to set herself free and move on he’s being so convincing and toxic to tie her down? Istg if I were in y/n’s place I’d also melt and be convinced If he used the sickness card on me and started being nice again…but I want to tell y/n to REMEMBER ALL THE OTHER TIMES he treated her like trash and OUTRIGHT DISRESPECTED HER? Huh? That’s when he WASN’T sick which obviously shows he doesn’t care about her. And PLEASE, I need gyu good role 🫶🏻☹️ I’m so rooting for gyu x y/n moments because I’m on gyu’s team !!💖😤 y/n deserves a guy who can treat her right and fix all her broken with love and support. I’m so eager to see where the story is headed, this is SO interesting to me ngl! What a brain you’ve got- just WOW! *~*

-now coming to you again <3

• omg aww I never thought you’d actually find my useless tmis cute >.< I just like talking to you sm I always feel like I should add sth in my ask to keep the conversation going!

• DID YOU JUST SEE WHAT RELEASED enhypen manifesto tour in ASIA?😭 they’re going to Bangkok NOW IM HOPEFUL SOMEDAY THEY WILL COME TO MALAYSIA TOO. (That is where I’ll be moving for uni so I just hope they come at the right time when I’ll be able to see them. I will cry my eyes out if I ever miss that opportunity)

• I really wanna see my enhypen irl and most of all there’s sth I want to give Jake although I’m not really sure if I can ever give it to him..but.. there’s a scrapbook I’ve been making for Jake.It’s a life goal at this point to give it to him cause I just want him to know how much I love him and he means to me. That’s more than enough for me. :’) <3

• I do not intend to come off as nagging, but did you read the fic I suggested? 😭 I’m just so curious to hear YOUR OPINION cause it’s angsty too bdhdhsie ik you’re so BUSY SO check it only if you’re free!

• also I know I might not be able to be as active when my life continues again, that is why I’m writing and posting as much as I can now. This blog is like a museum for me- a museum filled with my precious feelings of fangirling and happiness that was gifted to me by enhypen. I want it to be a place where I can look back and reminisce about my magical time and capture my memories as memories are the most precious thing I believe!

• but ofc I wouldn’t want to stop talking to you I know SO I WILL check and hope that we get to exchange one ask atleast once a week. 🥺 I hope we just become closer and closer and have more fun times together 💓

•take care and love you so much more 💛

[ Here is heesun cute heart for you to give you a mood boost! <3 *kissy* 💋 ]

[prismatic-cannon]

Strange and alien, primitive and peculiar. They are unlike any flora or fauna known to man. From time immemorial, men have feared these misshapen entities, of which came to be known as mushi. (​​蟲)

[somuchbetterthanthat]

All my JMs AUs now are Somewhere Else AUS in disguise. ANyway, have Martin freaking out over his new relationship,, 

The first night Jon stays to sleep over, Martin’s first instinct is to run and never ever come back to London. 

As he lays in his bed next to the man he’s pretty sure he’s in love with, unable to fall asleep, fretting every time their legs brush against each other, even though they both wear pajamas pants -- it’s the middle of winter, christ --, he makes a hundreds plans to escape quietly without waking Jon. It’s not even that he doesn’t want this. Of course he wants this. He’s -- he’s dreamt of this, for god’s sake, all his boring, sad, lonely life. To have someone right there, willing to love him. 

And Jon’s stupid smart, much smarter than he is, full of tidbits of knowledge that he can ramble about for hours; he’s got gorgeous eyes and even nicer laugh; he’s much gentler than people -- including Jon himself -- give him credits for, once you get to know him; he forgets to eat half the time but never fails to remember Martin’s appointments or poetry nights; he’s a workaholic that will be swayed off work with a well-placed kiss, or a hug, or a mumbled “please” into his shoulder. He likes Martin. He likes Martin. 

Nobody’s really liked Martin before. 

They don’t have the same sense of humour at all; Martin feels like an idiot, each time Jon’s wry little smile falter ever so slightly and he says “nevermind”, self-deprecatingly. If Jon had it his way, they’d be cuddling or touching every time they’re together, but Martin needs -- breathing space, at times. He’s used to years of empty room around him, and he’s came to the slow realization some part of him likes it. Jon dislikes poetry and Martin gets bored with hours-long documentaries. Jon adores cats and Martin daydreamed for years about getting a dog, one day. Martin plans too much and Jon acts so fast, in the spurt of the moment. 

Martin’s heart is beating too fast, too loud, and he can barely breathe, as he thinks we’re going to be bad for each other. He doesn’t know where that comes from, but it feels true, the same way it felt impossible to ignore Jon that day near the Carousel, where they met. It was Jon who’d came to him though, brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a mystery. Martin had merely frozen on the spot. They’d went for lunch afterwards, and it had felt a little like destiny. 

(Martin could not fathom what destiny would like with him. But there’s no other words for it, not really -- Jon himself still looks at him oddly, at times, like he can’t quite believe what they’re doing, that this is happening. But the thing is, afterwards, Jon always smiles. A pleased, baffled little smile, that makes Martin’s heart twists in his chest.)

They’re going to be bad for each other, he thinks; they’re just not -- they’re just not. They’ve got too many issues. They’re going too fast with this; both their therapists said so. “I don’t care,” Jon had muttered. “I don’t even know why I keep going anyway, she’s never helped with the nightmares.” when they’d talked about it. Martin hadn’t said anything. He’d both felt incredibly happy Jon chose to do this all the same, and a little bit exasperated at Jon’s derisive tone about his own therapist. 

“Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?” Jon murmurs. 

He sounds tired. He sounds gentle. He sounds self-conscious. Martin feels a pang of guilt and loss so overwhelming it brings tears to his eyes. “No,” he says. “No. Don’t go. Sorry, I -- did I wake you?”

“Haven’t really fallen asleep,” Jon says. “It’s fine,” he adds, understanding, always so understanding. “I can go. I did overstep --”

“I’m just not used to this,” Martin admits. “I never... I’m not used to sleeping with someone. I’ll get use to it.” 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jon says, firmer. His hand finds Martin’s, and he squeezes it, brief and too warm. “We could put some music,” he adds, afterwards. “Or I -- I could read to you?” 

Martin snorts: “And then you’ll tuck me in and kiss my forehead to bid me goodnight?”

“Don’t try me.”

Martin laughs, but something in his chest eases despite himself; he turns in the dark, and tentatively brush his lips against Jon’s hair. Jon hums happily. 

“Thank you,” Martin whispers and then, “Go on then; tell me a story, Mr Sims.” 

“Very well,” begins Jon --

They could be so bad for each other, Martin agrees. But maybe they won’t be. Maybe they don’t have to be. Maybe, as long as they chose each other, things will go as well as they’ve been going over the past month and half. Maybe destiny was right about the beginning, but she can just fuck right off with the ending. Martin closes his eyes, and chooses to believe it. 

[jungshookz]

smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

hm

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

[loving-barnes]

I LOVE DRUNK ME - BUCKY BARNES ver.2

(A/N): And here we are - people wanted part 2 and I rather provided them with a second version of this story with additional post-drunken scenes. Enjoy. I hope this one is better.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary:  (Y/N) got drunk and spilled her secrets to the one and only Bucky Barnes - the man she had a crush on.

Warning: humour, alcohol, language, sexual themes

Words: 4100+

FULL MASTERLIST

I LOVE DRUNK ME – BUCKY BARNES

It was rare when Y/N got drunk. Most of the time, she would drink wine or two, not risking getting wasted or in any funny mood because her mouth could talk. Also, she hated the morning after a drunken night. It was hard to get her shit together. Therefore she vowed to never get drunk again. This time, it was different and she broke her promise.

The best hits of the ’80s were coming from the speakers through the whole assembly room while the guests were drinking and dancing. It was Tony’s idea to have a themed party every Friday. It was for the two White Walkers, as he liked to call Steve and Bucky, to experience all the decades they missed. Of course, he had invited as many people as possible.

Natasha was sitting at the bar with Clint and Bruce, sipping a drink and talking about Clint’s family. All of them were wearing colourful clothes that perfectly represented the 80’s fashion. The redhead even helped the two soldiers to put on something appropriate. It was funny seeing them in bright, happy colours that didn’t match their usual styles. But somehow, it was Bucky who managed to pull it off. Natasha wanted to do something with his hair, but he threatened her to chop her hands off if she dares. He agreed to put on silver pants and a colourful t-shirt and that was it.

The boys played pool with Sam and Rhodes while drinking beer and chit-chatting. 

“So, how do you like the party?” Sam asked them, preparing for another game. He lost to Bucky and Rhodes again.

“Not a fan,” Steve sighed. “This is not my style and the music is terrible.” 

Sam glared at him. “Come on, man. This is the crazy era, the disco era. The greatest hits of my youth were made in the 80s and believe me, there were many amazing bands that I still listen to this day.”

Stark came to them with a drink in a hand, turning around impatiently. “Have you seen Y/N? I wanted to talk to her but she’s nowhere to be seen or found.” Once he mentioned her name, Bucky immediately looked around. His heart started to beat fast and he stopped breathing for a brief moment. He had a huge crush on her.

“Haven’t seen her tonight,” said Rhodey. “Have you checked Nat?” 

Tony looked at Bucky who kept his eyes on the place like a radar. “What is it, Rocky? Do you know where your crush is?”

“Shut up, Stark,” he frowned at him.

They heard a loud laugh followed by several giggles and the sound of breaking glass. Everyone looked in that direction, finding there Y/N laughing her ass off with three other girls who too worked for Shield. She was drunk and it wasn’t decent at all. 

She was trying to put on her high heel shoe when she lost balance and fell backwards. Luckily, she started to laugh a lot and her friends with her. The girls tried to help her on her feet. It took them a minute because all of them had enough drinks.

“What the fuck?” Sam asked, trying to hold his laughter. “Do you see what I see?”

“She said she would never get drunk again,” Steve commented.

A song called I Wanna Dance with Somebody began to play and the girls started to scream happily, dragging their asses on the dance floor, swaying their hips, singing the chorus as loud as possible. Y/N’s drink was spilling around her while she sang the high notes and had the best time ever. She didn’t care the people were looking at her and that Bucky was one of them. She was too drunk to care and she loved it. The girls started a small train, Y/N being the leader. They were dancing; making stupid moves as they entertained all the people around them. 

“What’s happening?” Wanda questioned as she approached her teammates with Vision.

Several other people joined the train while the song changed to Sweet Dreams. Whatever move Y/N made, the people did the same, making them laugh.

“Our innocent girl got wasted,” it was Natasha who came to the group with Clint and Bruce.

They were all standing on a balcony next to the pool table, watching her dance around, and entertaining the guests and the team. “Who got her this drunk?” Wanda’s eyes turned to Tony.

He shook his head. “Hey, I’m the innocent one tonight. She’s been with these girls from the very beginning. I don’t know if they even knew each other before. I’ve found out that they are from Shield’s HR department. They are harmless.”

Sam cleared his throat and grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to join them,” he opened the top button of his purple shirt. “They’re making me want to party and I want nothing more than to have some fun,” and went to the train of people as the song changed again and the DJ was playing Take on Me.

Clint had his phone in a hand, making a video of drunken Y/N. His intentions were to send it to all his teammates and even to her. 

Once her eyes saw Sam coming to the train, she quickly ran to him, grabbed him by the waist and started to ridiculously dance with him. Her eyes were messy and wet; the perfect makeup was long gone but she didn’t care.

Their dancing and closeness made Bucky jealous. He wanted to be the one dancing with her, having fun and not Sam. Steve patted his shoulder. “Come on, pal. You should go down there, have some fun and don’t be jealous. You know Sam only does it to make you angry. He loves teasing you,” he smiled at his best friend.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. record Y/N’s dancing and everything stupid she does tonight,” Tony ordered his system and took a sip of his drink. “She’s going to hate me but I don’t care. We need to archive this night.”

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to overcome his fear of dancing. It wasn’t the same as it was back in the day when he used to dance with girls. This era was different, he was different and the girl he was in love with was… wasted; a glass or two away from ending in a hospital. Once he started to move forward there was no turning back.

Y/N drank the rest of the drink and smashed the glass on the floor, screaming like Thor. “Another!” She was going wild tonight. What was the reason behind her heavy drinking? No one knew, not even herself. Her hands were waving from right to left, singing songs and dancing. 

Things got calmer once Abba started to play from the speakers. Some of the people formed couples as they danced slowly during The Winner Takes It All. For a moment, she stood there alone, without a partner. So, she wrapped hands around herself, singing the song and swaying from side to side. That was until Y/N felt someone’s hands on her shoulders. When she looked up, Bucky was standing in front of her, smiling. Without a word, he took her by the waist and started to dance with her. As much as he wanted to lead, she took the wheel.

Her eyes were filled with nothing but numbness. They were glossy, a bit read but still beautiful. She had enough alcohol in her system that was for sure. The way she was swaying and singing only made Bucky’s heart melt. She was adorable while being this drunk. He had to hold his laugh when she started to sing Staying Alive by Bee Gees. She tried that high-pitched voice to match the song. 

Bucky quickly took a good look at her outfit. Y/N was wearing tight black leather pants and a tight black shirt that ended under her breasts. He saw that outfit before, in a movie but didn’t know its name.

“I’m so drunk,” she looked him in the eyes, making a funny face. Her fingers brushed her messy hair and she tilted back. Bucky almost didn’t catch her. Without his reflexes, she would be on the ground. But she would only laugh.

“Careful, Y/N,” he pulled her body closer to his, securing her in his arms.

“Well isn’t it romantic?” she said mockingly. “Come, you beautiful specimen. Let’s have another drink,” she grabbed him by the metal hand. “To the bar!” she screamed, dragging him from the dance floor to the bar.

��Oh, no, you are drunk. You had enough, doll,” he tried to stop her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Water would be better.”

Her free hand landed over his mouth, making him shut. “Listen, you sexy beast,” she slurred. “One more won’t kill me. Besides, I’m having a great time - the time of my life. Now I had the time of my life,” she started to sing. “Now come. Be a good boy, let’s have a drink and I might give you some sugar,” she winked at him, shaking her shoulders.

He was shocked by her behaviour and blushed. What she told him made his knees weak therefore he followed her like a puppy. He would do anything for a kiss from Y/N. But this was drunk Y/N and there was a difference.

When they came to the bar, she asked for two double silver tequilas. “Are you sure you can handle that?” Bucky questioned.

Once she managed to sit down on a barstool and not fall down, she looked him in the eyes and bit her lower lip. “I can handle many things,” she winked at him. “Including you.”

The bartender gave them what she ordered with slices of lemon and salt. “Enlighten me, Y/N,” he smirked, suddenly being very curious. “Tell me some of your dirty secrets that no one knows,” he pushed his chair closer to hers to hear her better.

She sighed, putting a hand on his vibranium shoulder to have some stability. “Well, first of all, back in the day, when I was a teenager,” she took a deep breath through her nose, “we had a contest with my friends in the senior year of high school.” The girl was already red, trying to hold back her laugher but she kept talking. “We were trying to deep-throat a cucumber only to discover who the best was. I sucked at it,” she smashed her free hand against the bar, laughing out loud. “Get it?” she continued, tears coming from her eyes. The stupid joke almost ruined her. 

Bucky was shocked, amused and aroused at the same time. He could imagine her pretty lips wrapped around a long, thick cucumber as she was trying to push it as deep as possible down her throat. He adjusted himself on the barstool and grabbed the double shot of tequila between his flesh fingers. “Cheers to that… joke,” he said, dryly gulping.

She followed his lead. They put salt on their hands and prepared a piece of lemon. “Cheers, Mr Fuckable,” she said out loud and without hesitation. Bucky’s eyes almost popped out when he heard it.

After they took the shot, and Y/N wooed loudly. “This is the best night ever.”

Bucky scanned her face. “Mr Fuckable?” he questioned. This was the perfect time to get more information out of that drunken brain. “Tell me more.”

“I mean,” her hands were moving around her like a wind, “have you seen you? God, I need another shot just by looking at you.” She turned to the bartender. “Another round Mr Bartender,” she laughed and her right hand ended on one of Bucky’s pectorals. A hum of approval came out of her throat. “Wow, nice, firm,” she commented.

The brunet couldn’t hold his laughter anymore. “Don’t give us another round. She had enough.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You had enough, Y/N. Believe me, if you continue like this, you will regret it in the morning.”

“But I’m having so much fun and I don’t give a fuck what people think about me. Hell, I don’t give a fuck about anything at the moment,” she sang.

“I’m taking you to bed, Y/N. You-are-drunk,” he helped her stand up because she wasn’t able to do it on her own. His flesh hand wrapped around her waist while the metal one took her by her right hand.

Y/N looked at him and purred. “Are you really taking me to bed? It’s like a dream come true. You, taking me to bed, I’ve dreamt of this moment. I cannot wait, soldier.”

Bucky bit the inner side of his cheek. “You did?” he had to ask. “I know a drunken person will always tell you the truth but are you telling it?” he kinked a brow, slowly leaving the party with her.

“Always,” she grinned, resting her head against his shoulder while they were waiting for an elevator. “Now you know my dirty secrets,” she almost screamed. “It’s going to be so embarrassing tomorrow morning but I don’t care. I am living in the moment.” Y/N was laughing at herself and all the words she said to Bucky. “How about another shot?”

“I think that is enough. Plus, I know about the cucumber incident or how should I call it.”

“Who told you that?!” she gasped, mortified that he knew about it. 

“Uh, you told me, Y/N, like ten minutes ago,” he said as they went into the elevator and went on the floor where she lived. “You are also sexually attracted to me,” he continued. “Will you tell me more?”

The girl leaned against the elevator wall, looked into the baby blue eyes and smiled. “I’m so fucking in love with Bucky Barnes. So in love it hurts,” she breathed, trying to surpass the sudden tears. “He is just awesome and cute, sexy and boy, I would ruin his body and let him ruin mine. He’s the man of my dreams.” Her face went from smiling to sad and frowning.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he went closer to her just when the elevator stopped and the door opened. Without an answer, she left him standing there, confused. Bucky quickly followed, not sure what happened to her. It was a sudden change, like a switch of a light that went off and suddenly darkness clouded her mind. He watched her struggling with walking, occasionally hitting walls. “Y/N, wait,” he almost tripped on her lost shoe. Then he grabbed her by the waist and helped her into her room. “Why so sad?”

She looked at him, dryly gulping. “I don’t know if you are here or not,” she deeply inhaled. “I don’t know if you are just an imagination of my drunken mind or I am talking to a random man.”

“I’m here,” he smiled, both of his hands landing on her cheeks, stroking them lovingly. “I will take care of you, I promise.”

She nodded. After a deep thought, she said, “well, this is embarrassing,” and she giggled for the millionth time. “Kiss me goodnight and leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I said to fucking kiss me for a good night, doll,” she replied and stomped with afoot.

He obliged with an amused smile, pulling her body as close as possible. Before any of them could back away, he gently kissed her on the soft lips that tasted like tequila and lemon. “I love drunk Y/N,” he stated with a loving smile.

“I love drunk me,” she snorted. “Thank you for kisses. Good night and tell Bucky Barnes I love him.” She fell face down on the bed, humming into the duvet. “Sweet dreams and see you when I’m-“she nuzzled against a pillow, closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

Bucky shook his head, trying to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape his throat. He put a blanket around her body to keep her warm and left with a smile on his face. He wondered, will she remember anything from the evening? He would have to wait for that answer… 

Y/N woke up early in the morning with a dry mouth like the Sahara desert. Her body was aching and when she tried to huff out loud, her voice gave up on her. 

Shit.

Surprisingly, she didn’t have a headache and her body reacted to the hangover well. It’s been a while since she got this wasted and was feeling relatively fine the next day. 

She noticed being in her bed, luckily, with her party clothes on. When she turned around and looked at her phone, she was surprised it was seven in the morning. Of course, she wouldn’t sleep any longer because it was impossible after getting this drunk. But then a thought hit her and she quickly took the phone into her hands and checked the gallery for pictures. Luckily nothing – she remember she left her phone in the room.

After another tiring huff, she started her typical hungover routine – it started with a long hot shower that turned cold before leaving it. She put on clean, comfortable clothes and cleaned her face. After she was done, she drank a lot of cold water and took some magnesium and vitamins. To survive the whole day, she needed to keep a water bottle by her side and all would be well. 

When she came into the kitchen, she was there alone. A light breakfast would only do her well. As she was preparing vegetables, she kept thinking about the night. 

It started with a few drinks with the girls from HR; then it turned into a wild night – the night she used to have back in university. It was bad. And slowly it all turned into a mush; scenes of the night mixing together. She remembered she danced with Sam and there was a train of dancing people. Also, there was a lot of laughing. So far, it seemed alright. 

As she sat down behind the kitchen table and ate her food, more memories came rushing back. Somehow, she heard herself saying the word Mr Fuckable. Did she say it to someone? 

“Well, would you look at that,” Sam said when he came into the kitchen. He was wearing comfortable clothes and looked fresh. “You are such a party animal, you know that?” 

“Uh,” she made a sound, processing the words. “Was it too bad?” 

He laughed. “Not at all. It was all fun and drinks and laughter. You made everyone dance.”

“Everyone?” she raised a brow. “Wow, well, if that is the case then I am fine with that knowledge. I was worried that I did something stupid,” she snorted.

Sam made himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to her. “I mean, I saw you with Barnes on the dance floor and drinking at the bar. Maybe ask him for more details,” he suggested. 

“No,” she gasped. “No, no, no, I did not,” she raised a finger. Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “I did not. I did not,” she repeated. 

“Damn girl, did something happen?” Sam started to laugh at her again. 

She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t think so. Maybe I was talking shit, that’s all. I even woke up alone in my bed, so that’s good.” And then she waved her hand and grinned. “Eh, if I don’t remember, nothing happened.” 

But the “nothing happened” walked into the kitchen with messy hair and only in his sweatpants. “Morning,” his voice was low and raspy. 

Y/N kept looking at Bucky like he was an exhibition in a museum. Something was running through her mind and she couldn’t keep up with the thoughts. His face and his smile came back to her. He seemed amused when he was talking to her. 

“Well morning to you too,” Sam grinned. He was enjoying the show. 

“Hi,” Y/N whispered and turned her eyes down, rather focused on her breakfast. 

Bucky looked at her, his eyes sparkling. “How do you feel after yesterday?” he asked. 

She shrugged. “I feel fine, to be honest. Just my body is like a desert – it needs a lot of water.” 

Sam chuckled under his nose and left the kitchen with his coffee. No commentary was necessary. As much as he wanted to be a part of their conversation, he knew they would kick him out sooner or later. 

“Can I sit next to you?” Bucky asked politely and pointed at the spot where Sam sat before. When she nodded, he took the seat and turned his body to her. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Uh, sure.” 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” 

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, did we sleep together?” 

Bucky laughed. “No, we didn’t. I wouldn’t let that happen. But we did have an interesting conversation,” he winked at her. 

“Oh no,” she was slowly losing it. “Do I wanna know?” 

“So, you don’t remember,” he stated, his voice lowered. 

She noticed the change. As if he was disappointed. “Oh, Bucky, what happened? Was I mean to you because if yes, then I am sorry. I mean, yes, when you are drunk you usually tell the truth, well, from what I have learnt I always tell the truth. But if I was mean, then it was only because you might have been pushing the wrong buttons.” 

He laughed. “Oh, Y/N, you really are adorable.” 

“W-what? W-why?” she was confused.

“Well, you confessed a lot of weird stuff about yourself,” he laughed, and she hid her face into the palms of her hands, embarrassed. “You were hitting on me and you confessed your feelings for me.” 

She almost choked on her saliva. Her head snapped up, looking into his eyes. “Oh my god, I am so sorry Bucky. Fuck, you know, this is the reason I hate getting drunk because I would be able to sell my own mother. I am so sorry,” her body shivered. “Look, it’s alright. I know this must have made you uncomfortable, which I totally get.”

“Y/N.”

“So, I will stay out of your way, not to make things weird and it will all just go away, I guess.”

“Y/N.”

“I cannot believe I opened my big mouth. Fucking alcohol; fuck that night. I am going to bury myself alive,” she was about to stand up, but Bucky took her by the wrist to keep her down on the stool. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he said calmly. 

“No, I am embarrassed,” she avoided his face, staring down at her hands. 

He bit his lower lip. “There is no need to be embarrassed. Sooner or later I would have the guts to tell you-“ he took a deep breath, not believing he was about to confess. “That I too have feelings for you.”

“What?” She almost screamed, immediately cringing at her loud voice. It hurt her head. “You-you are not saying it…”

Bucky shut her mouth by smacking his lips against her in their first kiss. Nothing too deep or too nasty, just an easy loving kiss on the lips. He got her off guard. When the kiss ended, she stopped breathing and stared at him with her big, confused eyes. “You believe me now?”

“Shit,” Y/N gasped. “I guess getting drunk paid off,” she laughed. “You really have feelings for me?” 

“I do. And thanks to yesterday, you made it easier for me to confess. So, what do you say? Would you like to go out tonight?” Bucky asked. 

Y/N made a weird noise and blushed like crazy. “Yes, please. However, can we stay here? I need to get over last night. My body needs comfort and water. How about tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” he nodded. “Date night here and another one tomorrow.” 

Y/N leaned in again, kissing his lips; just to be sure it wasn’t a dream. And it certainly wasn’t, because this time, the kiss deepened and she let his tongue slip into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and climbed on his lap, feeling his body against her. “This is like a dream come true,” she chuckled when their lips parted. 

“Hey, Y/N, listen, I want to ask about the cucumber…”

Her face was in pure shock – eyes wide, mouth hanging open. “No,” she shook her head. 

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed. “You told me about it.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did and it was hot and funny,” his nose brushed against her nose. 

“I am not drinking ever again,” she whispered and hid her face in the crook of his neck. 

Bucky was smiling, caressing her back. “I love drunk Y/N.” 

[the7thcrow]

600 degrees

~

pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

summary: you can’t cook. like, really can’t cook. good thing your cute neighbour is here to help clean up the mess.

word count: 5.1k

genre: neighbours au. strangers to lovers. the fluffiest of fluff, slightly suggestive.

warnings: a make-out session, bad humour, minho being a twat of a roommate, and tooth-rotting fluff.

rating: 14+

a/n: hi guys! hope you enjoy this one, it’s so much more wholesome and fluffy than what i usually write, but I'm pretty happy about it. don’t by shy to send me an ask or leave a comment. anything you have to say, I would love to hear. :)

...

..

.

“Fine. Since you won’t come, at least enlighten me on how you plan to keep yourself busy?” Minho asks, casually leaning against your kitchen island. He stares at you, with that familiar condescending smirk you’ve seen far too many times.

“I don’t know,” you state, rolling your eyes. Rising to your feet, you head over to your shared refrigerator, pulling a bottle of Sangria out of the fridge. “But I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“You know, if you want to drink, you could at least do it at the party.” Minho approaches you from behind, placing both his hands on your shoulders. “It’s a lot less sad that way.”

You slap his hand away, letting out a frustrated groan at the laughter he lets out from his own joke. “I get out plenty, quit acting like I’m some lonely cat lady,” you say, grabbing your favourite wine glass from the cupboard. “I like parties, I just don’t like Jisung’s parties. They always get way out of hand.”

“But Y/N,” Minho wines, picking up your freshly poured glass and taking a sip, earning himself a glare. “I never said you were a cat lady, just the lonely part.”

At that you snatch the glass away from his hands. Not wanting to deal with this torment any longer, you walk back to your comfortable, worn-in spot on the couch.

“You know I’m right,” he says, continuing despite the fact you begin to turn up the volume of the television. “And the only way you’re going to change that is by accompanying me to Jisung’s loud, out of hand parties.”

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows. “Somehow, I doubt my soulmate associates himself with Han Jisung.”

“Well that can’t be right, because I associate myself with Han Jisung?”

“Shut up, Minho.”

Your roommate snickers to himself as he opens the fridge, taking a quick glance at everything - or for a better term, lack of anything - inside. “What are you even going to eat? There’s nothing leftover from last night.”

“I’ll make something,” you say. Frankly, you had expected the outburst of laughter, but that didn’t do anything to simmer down your growing annoyance.

“Make something?” Minho laughs, giving you an incredulous stare. “Y/N, I’ve lived with you for two years and I don’t think I’ve seen you cook anything once.”

“Hey, I can cook,” you return, wrinkling your nose. “But why would I, when I have you to do it for me?”

At this, it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I take that back. I don’t want you to come, have fun curling up on the couch alone with your three cats.”

“They’re literally yours.”

“Whatever,” he says, opening your front door. “Just don’t burn the apartment down, alright?”

As he closes the door, you flip him off. At first, you aren’t sure if he saw, but you’re given your answer as his laughter echoes down the hallway, fading as he walks further away.

You scowl. Of course you can cook. Well, at the very least, well enough to make a meal for one on a saturday night. Minho didn’t know what he was talking about.

Minho. Your best friend and roommate for the last two years. Man, does the guy have a way of pushing your buttons. You love him, of course. In the weird, bickering, just short of volatile friendship sort of way the two of you had developed.

Still, you can’t deny that even with his painfully irritable nature, he is still a good friend. No matter how many times you say no, he always offers to take you anywhere he goes. He pushes you out of your comfort zone. He’s there to console you when a date goes bad, or you failed a test you studied hard for. He makes all his meals for two, just because he doesn’t want you to live solely off shitty take-out.

He’s your rock. Your platonic other half. Your closest companion.

Which means you are going to prove him wrong, and then rub it in his face as much as you possibly can. Of course, because that’s what friends are for.

~~~~

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t. Or, at the very least, it was going to be exceedingly more difficult now that your apartment was full of smoke.

Covering your nose with one hand, you take the tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. If you can even call them that, as they now held a far closer resemblance to that of hockey pucks. Both in looks, and what you could assume in taste, as well.

Okay, you know chocolate chip cookies don’t really count as a decent meal, but they are the only thing you remember how to cook from when you lived at home. Or maybe you didn’t remember, based on the tray of failure sitting in front of you.

Then, to make matters even worse, your fire alarm starts going off.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. Now you are going to have to go to the front desk, let them know everything is okay.

Maybe Minho was right, you should’ve just went to Jisung’s stupid party and eaten something there. Putting all the other painful aspects of Han’s parties aside, Felix was his roommate, so the horderves were always excellent.

They were better than your hockey puck cookies, anyway.

Letting out a disappointed sigh, you open your apartment door, prepared to get a rough scolding from the lady working the front desk. However, you are surprised to find a man standing in front of you, his hand in the air, as if he were about to knock.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly putting his hand back down at his side. He has messy platinum blonde hair, and soft eyes. He’s cute, and the realization quickly makes you recognize him.

“You’re my neighbor,” you say, pointing a finger at him. It’s not until he doesn’t respond immediately that you realize it was a strange thing to say. Obviously, he knows he’s your neighbor, and he might be a little offended you didn’t recognize him immediately.

Then again, the two of you had never really talked before. Everytime you would pass each other in the hall, he’d always give a polite nod and continue walking. Sometimes you’d try to say hello, or start a small conversation, but he always disappeared quickly. It had gotten to the point where you assumed he had some strange, unwarranted grudge against you.

So, it was safe to say that you were more than just a little surprised to find him at your door.

“Uh, yeah, I am. Are you okay? I thought I smelt something burning, and then I heard the fire alarm go off.” He asks, peeking behind you into your apartment, seeing if he can catch sight of any flames.

Instead, his eyes land on your tray of butchered cookies, and he… smirks?

“Oh,” he says, attempting to hide the smile growing on his face. “Having some cooking trouble?”

You stare at him for a moment, watching as his lips pursed together, stifling a chuckle. “Are you...” you begin, your jaw dropping slightly. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he looks down at you, finally letting his grin free. “I would never.”

“Yeah, okay,” you frown, already not enjoying that sarcastic look on his face. You thought you’d be able to avoid that humiliating look considering Minho wasn’t here, but apparently not.

 “As you can see, it’s nothing. So if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, attempting to move past him. “I need to go get my neck rung by the lady at the front desk,” However, he doesn’t budge from his place in your door frame. You cast him a glare, which only makes his smile grow wider.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll go let her know,” he says, already turning to walk down the hall. You open your mouth to object, but he casts a glance over his shoulder, snickering. “You focus on cleaning up whatever those black lumps were supposed to be.”

You stand in your doorway, dumbfounded as your neighbor disappears down the complex staircase. Who did this guy think he was, openly laughing at your current predicament? Sure, if the roles were reversed, there’s no doubt that you would do the same. But that isn’t the point.

No. The point is that you are not impressed by the audacity of this stranger, and you are going to make sure that this distaste is known.

Grumbling to yourself, you dump the still smoking cookies in the trash can. It’s a shame, really. You’d thought you were doing so well, too. You thought this would be your chance to prove Minho wrong. Minho. Oh, he would be having an absolute hay day if he were here right now, and the thought only makes your scowl deepen.

“Well,” your neighbor calls from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. He reappears in the open door frame, sticking his neck inside, but not fully crossing the threshold into your apartment. “She’s not thrilled, but the alarm didn’t trigger the main system’s sprinklers, so you’re good.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

The man smiles. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly were you trying to make anyway?”

An embarrassed blush casts itself over your cheeks. “Chocolate chip cookies,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

He lets out a burst of laughter, smiling widely. You can’t help but notice that he had a cute smile, dimples on both of his cheeks, eyes crinkled. Not that you were looking. Not that you cared, obviously.

“How’d you manage to mess up chocolate chip cookies that badly?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “You tell me.” You gesture towards the oven. Your neighbor smirks, walking inside your apartment. He bends down in front of your oven, before taking a look inside.

“Well, nothing seems to be wrong in there…” he starts, before glancing up at the set temperature. “Oh,” he states, before looking back at you, his eyes full of pity. “Oh boy.”

“What?” You ask defensively.

“The temperature. You forgot to convert it from celsius to fahrenheit. See?” He says, leaning away from the oven to give you a closer look. “So you thought you were cooking them at 350 degrees fahrenheit, when in reality they were at over 600 degrees.”

“Oh my god,” you say, smacking your palm against your forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t know,” the guy shrugs. “You could have burnt your apartment down, so I’d consider it a win. You’re lucky I got here on time.”

You cast him a scowl, although you can’t seem to relinquish the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. You know damn well you wouldn’t have started a fire, and that the man showing up really didn’t stop anything but an uncomfortable conversation with the front lady. You are also sure that he is fully aware of this too, which makes your smirk grow wider. Alright, you’ll play along.

“Right, what ever would I do without you?” you say sarcastically, causing your neighbor to playfully roll his eyes. He leans against your kitchen counter, relaxing slightly.

“Does my saviour have a name?” You ask, opening the fridge to take a look at what’s inside. You feel your stomach rumble, taking a glance at the clock to see that it was already past 9:00.

“It’s Chris,” he smiles, leaning over your shoulder. “So what are you going to eat, now that you’ve successfully butchered the easiest recipe known to man?”

“Hey!” You snipe. “That is certainly not the easiest recipe known to man.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris says, putting his hands up in defense. “Maybe not the easiest, but it’s definitely up there. But putting that aside, what are you going to eat? Because I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever seen a fridge so empty.”

You want to quip back at him, but he’s right. Minho usually does the grocery shopping, but because of Jisung’s party tonight he wasn’t planning on cooking anything.

“Good question,” you sigh, closing the refrigerator door before leaning your back against it. “Maybe I’ll just order some take out. I don’t think my pride can handle another failure.”

Chris smiles. “Or, I have an idea,” he says, his eyes glinting. He heads over to your apartment door, and for a moment you worry that he’s leaving.

No, you’re not worried. You’re curious. That’s all. You were curious whether or not he was leaving, nothing more.

When Chris returns, he has his arms full of ingredients. Spinach, penne, tomato sauce, cream, a variety of spices. The list goes on, and he stumbles slightly, almost dropping the surplus of food onto your kitchen floor. Imagining the mess, you rush over to help him, placing the load of groceries onto the counter.

“I don’t know if you couldn’t tell before,” you say, motioning to your overflowing counter. “But I really can’t cook. I have no clue what to do with any of this.”

“That’s no problem,” Chris smiles, already separating the food into different groups. “I’ll help you.”

“No, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, waving your hands in protest. You step in front of him, squeezing yourself between his chest and the kitchen counter, preventing him from reaching any of the ingredients. “You’ve already dealt with the desk lady for me, and brought over all these groceries. You’ve done more than enough.”

He smiles, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and effortlessly moving you to the side. “Why would I bring you these groceries if I knew you couldn’t do anything with them?” When you don’t respond, he continues. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just let me help you.”

You sigh in defeat, ignoring the way your heart begins to beat faster in your chest. “Alright,” you say, grabbing Minho’s cutting board from the cupboard. “Let’s do this, then.”

~~~~

An hour later, you find yourself sitting on top of your kitchen counter, Chris stationed by the stove working on the pasta sauce. You had genuinely tried to help in the beginning, you really did. But after Chris criticized your (awful) cutting technique, and said he didn’t exactly trust you to do anything else, you gave up.

Besides, you don’t have a problem watching him work. Over the last hour, you’ve come to learn that Chris is an absolute whiz in the kitchen. Moving from place to place, adding spices by intuition and nothing more. This wasn’t something you could have managed to make yourself in a million years, and it’s obvious that if you tried to assist him right now, you’d only get in the way.

Of course, you’ve learned a lot more about Chris in the last hour than just that. Where he grew up, his hobbies, what he was currently studying at the university. Music theory, as you’d learned. As cool as it sounded, Han had managed to tarnish your image of music majors, but you suppose you could give Chris a chance.

“It’s almost done,” Chris says, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

“Thank God, I’m starving,” you reply, leaping off the counter to stand beside him.

“What, no ‘thank you, Chris?’ No, ‘what ever would I have done without you, Chris?’” He mocks offence, placing a hand on his heart.

“It’s not even done yet. I’ll thank you after I try it, I promise.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’re only thankful if you like it. I see how it is,” Chris says, crossing his arms in front of himself, pouting his lower lip slightly.

“Guess so,” you say, crossing your own arms mockingly. Chris smiles, those cute little dimples of his dancing across his cheeks.

Then you feel it, that little jump of your heart. The faintest skip of a beat that you’d familiarized yourself with over the last hour. That little hint of anticipation that makes you decide that you are, even if only slightly, a bit interested in Chris.

After all, he’s funny and sweet. Can carry a conversation well, and to understate it, undeniably easy on the eyes. That’s more than enough to give him a chance.

Most of all, however, you like that little flare between the two of you. The sarcasm, the banter. It doesn’t feel the same as when Minho does it, slightly condescending and done purely to harbour your annoyance. No, this is different. It is a challenge. He wants you to quip back, to push further. To make him smirk, or laugh, or roll his eyes.

“Alright, fine then,” he says, taking the large wooden spoon and scooping up some of the pasta sauce. “Tell me if this is up to par, your majesty.”

You aren’t sure if he wants you to take the spoon, or let him hold it for you as you take a bite. You decide to take the gamble, gently moving your lips around the spoon, tasting the sauce. You glance up at Chris, a small look of surprise on his face. However, you don’t miss the flash of something behind his eyes. The faintest hint of affection, interest.

The sauce itself is delicious. A perfect blend of tomato, basil and cream. You hum contently, giving him a thumbs up.

“Chris, this is amazing,” you praise, admiring the small blush that sprinkles his cheeks.

“It’s really nothing,” he says, diverting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck, shyly.

“No, seriously,” you say, taking the spoon from his hand and scooping some of the sauce up yourself. “Try it.” You hold the spoon out in front of him, and he raises his eyebrows slightly. Your gaze remains firm. A challenge.

Hesitantly, he takes the bite, not breaking eye contact as he does so. You stare at him, watching the way his lips move around the spoon, the intensity of his gaze. The action itself should be innocent, yet you feel a warmth rise to your cheeks.

Chris swallows, taking his lips off the spoon. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You can feel the change in the atmosphere of the room. The spark between you two being brought alight.

You swallow hard. “So?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah, it’s good. Very good,” he says back, his voice low and raspy. He goes to take the spoon from you, and his hand lingers a moment, his thumb trailing the skin of your knuckles.

You feel yourself lean in slightly, fully prepared to take the leap, when suddenly he breaks away from you, eagerly taking a few steps back. He looks away, placing a hand on his face, as if he were ashamed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know you’re seeing someone, we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry,” he babbles, completely turning away from you.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. Seeing someone? Where the hell could he have possibly gotten that idea?

“Seeing someone?” You ask, incredulously voicing your thoughts. You grab him by the shoulder, turning him around. “Why do you think I’m seeing someone?”

Chris still refuses to meet your eyes, instead focusing intently on the wall behind you. “The guy that lives here- Minho - aren’t you two?”

“Minho?” You gape, contorting your face in a look of pure disgust. “Ew, gross! No! Believe me, I am not dating Minho, I’d genuinely rather stick this spoon in my eye,” you exclaim, lifting up the utensil.

At that Chris finally looks at you, wearing his own look of pure confusion. “Wait, really? But whenever I hear you guys out in the hall, the two of you are always so… flirty.”

“Flirty?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “If by flirty you mean he teases me literally every god damn second of every day, then yeah sure, I guess. But believe me, there is absolutely nothing romantic about that. Not in the least.”

Chris shakes his head, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Wow. I am such an idiot,” he sighs, a rediscovered lightness to his tone.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “Anyone could make that mistake, I guess. It’s really no big-”

“No, it’s not just that,” he cuts you off. “That’s why I’ve never talked to you before now.”

“You never talked to me because you thought that me and Minho were dating?” You ask, slightly confused. Even if you were dating, you didn’t see why that would stop him from starting a conversation with you. “Why?”

“Well,” he sighs, his cheeks reddening further. “I thought you were pretty, and based on the way you always quipped back at him, clever and funny as well. I don’t know, it just felt wrong to try and build a friendship with you, knowing how I already felt a little....”  

You smirk, drawing yourself slightly closer to him. “A little what?”

His smile transforms itself from embarrassed to a sly grin of his own. “A little into you, I guess.”

“It really is a shame,” you shrug, trying to hide the excitement building in your chest. “Because here I was, thinking my cute neighbor had some irrational grudge against me.”

Chris leans in, so the two of you are only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the strong fragrance of his cologne. Sharp with lemon zest and mint.

“We could always make up for lost time, you know,” he says, his eyes flashing with mischief.

That is all the invitation you need to break the space between the two of you. You press Chris’ lips against your own, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other along the line of his jaw. His lips are soft, you notice. Tender in the slow rhythm the two of you develop.

He runs his hands up along your figure. One of them finding itself locked in your hair, the other placed firmly on the curve of your lower back. Gently, he leads the two of you away from the stove, placing you so that your back is pressed up against the kitchen counter.

You run your hand down along his chest, reveling in the groan he let’s out as your fingers trail down his lower abdomen. The sound is electricity pulsing through you, charging the room and igniting the atmosphere around the two of you.

His lips leave yours, trailing your jaw before making their way down your neck. Each individual kiss is slow and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. You take a deep breath to stable yourself, and it does not go unnoticed.

Chris smirks, shifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out with desire. “You know, if we keep this up, the pasta sauce is going to burn,” he says, letting his fingers trail along your collarbone.

“Let it,” you shrug. “I wasn’t hungry anyways.”

Chris laughs at this, leaning forward so his face brushes the crook of your neck. “Yeah, right,” he says, allowing his lips to dust your skin. Suddenly, he bites down, not enough to break through the skin, but certainly enough to leave a small mark.  

You laugh, running your hands in his hair, half-heartedly pulling him off of your neck. “Hey! That hurt,” you exclaim, only half serious.

“Sorry,” he grins, before crashing his lips into yours once again. The pace between the two of you is much faster now, each kiss more passionate. More promising. Your desire rings through you, clouding your mind in a hazy fog of lust. It is dizzying, just how much you want him at this moment.

You're certain he feels the same way, given in how tightly he grips your thigh, his breath ragged every time you break apart. It is messy. Greedy. The two of you so deeply wanting more. More of each other.

You’re about to ask if he wants to move this to the bedroom, when suddenly the apartment door swings open. It’s almost comical, how quickly you and Chris break apart, springing to opposite ends of the kitchen.

“I hate to say it, but you were right,” Minho calls as he walks inside, not yet glancing up from his phone screen. “Shit got out of hand. Someone managed to break the pool table, don’t even ask how, I don’t know either. Almost gave Felix an aneurysm. I swear the kid was about to cry, poor guy. Han had to shut everything down. So you really didn’t miss out on-” Minho stops as he sees Chris, a confused yet bemused expression crossing his face.

“Oh, hey Chan,” he says, causing you to give Chris a look.

“A nickname,” Chris mouths to you, as discreetly as he possibly can.

“What are you doing over here?” Minho asks him, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. He has that smug smirk on his face that makes you want to punch him.

“Oh, well…” Chris starts, casting you a glance. “Y/N made some food, and there was too much of it, so she invited me over.”

“Really?” Minho asks, caught off guard. He walks past you and Chris, staring at the pasta and sauce currently sitting on the oven burners. “You’re saying Y/N made this?”

“Well, yeah?” Chris says, feigning confusion. “Of course, I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Why?”

You have to stop yourself from laughing, looking at the expression of utter bewilderment on Minho’s face. Minho glances at you, narrowing his eyes, before sighing.

“Well then, I guess you proved me wrong on two things tonight, Y/N,” he says, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he begins to scoop some of the penne into his dish.

“Oh, you said there was a lot,” Minho responds, raising one eyebrow. “Can I not have some?”

“Sorry, go ahead,” you say, still slightly flustered by the abruptness of his entrance. Minho finishes filling his bowl and takes a seat at the kitchen island. As he begins to eat, the room is filled with a rather tense silence. You and Chris share an awkward look, unsure of what to do next.

Minho looks up from his dish, glancing between the two of you.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, grabbing his bowl and standing up from his chair. “I’m going to go eat this in my room. Have fun you two.”

Before you can say anything, Minho disappears around the corner, down the hallway leading to his room. You turn back towards Chris. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“He’s a bit of a mood-killer, huh?” You say, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard, offering him one.

Chris nods in thanks as he takes the bowl from your hands. “Just a little bit,” he laughs, beginning to scoop some of the pasta into both of your dishes.

The two of you take a seat at your counter, spending the meal talking and laughing. Nothing else, the moment has passed, but that doesn’t bother you. You enjoy Chris’ presence. His quick humour and thoughtful conversation.

It really is something that you could get used to, you decide.

After you’re done eating, you walk Chris over to the door, handing him his surplus of spice bottles and leftover spinach.

“Thank you for doing all this, seriously. The food was delicious, you’re seriously gifted. And also, thank you for covering for me, I really didn’t feel like listening to Minho die laughing over the burnt cookies,” you admit.

“It’s no problem, really,” Chris smiles. He shifts all the spices over to his right arm, letting his free hand fall down to his side. Softly, he takes your hand in his, letting your fingers intertwine.

“Listen,” he continues, shyly looking up from your hands to meet your eyes. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, you’re welcome to come over for a proper dinner. You know, so I can show you what I can actually make when it’s not a last minute attempt at salvaging a meal.”

You smile a goofy, genuine grin. “That sounds good to me,” you say. Hesitantly, you lean forwards, planting a soft, innocent kiss on his lips.

As you break apart, he hums contently. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, thanks for today. You made my night, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Chris.” You watch as he walks over to his apartment door, which is of course, only a few meters away from your own. When he disappears into his own apartment, you sigh, closing your own door behind you. You lean against the frame, letting out a shaky breath, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve held any genuine interest in someone, you feel almost giddy.

That is until you see Minho, leaning against the corner of the kitchen wall, watching you with his cheshire smirk.

“Dinner tomorrow, huh?” He asks, walking into the kitchen and scooping himself the last of the pasta.

“What about it?” You retort, not giving in to that pestering look in his eyes.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure it’ll be good, considering Chan clearly made this,” Minho says, shoveling some of the pasta into his mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.

“Save it, the lady at the front desk told me you almost set the apartment on fire,” Minho laughs as you pour the wine.

You let out a groan, handing him his glass. “God dammit.”

“Don’t blame her though,” he smiles, leaning back and taking a sip. “I wouldn’t have believed you could have cooked that anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Had me fooled for a second there though,” he says, patting you on the head. “But more importantly, you like Chan huh?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Nice hickey, by the way,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

You pull up the collar of your shirt, casting him a glare. “Okay, maybe I do,” you shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he replies, before taking a second to think. “Just please don’t fuck him or anything tomorrow. Walls are thin.”

You laugh, taking your glass of wine and flopping yourself back down on the living room couch.

“Shut up, Minho.”

~

thanks for reading loves <3

[pingutats]

wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood. 

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around. 

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again. 

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge. 

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan. 

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely. 

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is. 

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter. 

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life. 

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove. 

“Hey, Jeff,” he says. 

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it. 

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation. 

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone. 

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps. 

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends. 

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes. 

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos. 

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world. 

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her. 

He scrolls down even further. 

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera. 

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all. 

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh. 

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is. 

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying. 

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly. 

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods. 

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview. 

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries. 

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word. 

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand. 

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!