#the coffee i had like. 12 hours ago? it is powering me

[poptartmochi]

encountered a reddit post that talks about how lady is the main character of the story for 3... i'm rotating in my fucking MIND rn..

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee. 

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile. 

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise. 

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss. 

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh. 

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved. 

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again. 

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.” 

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.” 

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that. 

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly. 

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong. 

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants. 

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face. 

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly. 

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in. 

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—” 

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true. 

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his. 

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay. 

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss. 

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room. 

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?” 

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head. 

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down. 

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile. 

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues. 

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass. 

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.  

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala. 

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell. 

He’s unfairly handsome. 

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze. 

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him. 

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters. 

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say. 

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says. 

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached. 

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.    

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway. 

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok. 

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them. 

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point. 

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison. 

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind. 

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds. 

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around. 

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father. 

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk. 

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out. 

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says. 

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly. 

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day. 

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day. 

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks. 

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so. 

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you. 

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily. 

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised. 

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs. 

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?” 

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in. 

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed. 

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first. 

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected. 

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make. 

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed. 

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings. 

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done. 

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough. 

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough. 

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon. 

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day. 

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting. 

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t. 

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting. 

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you. 

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs. 

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same. 

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge. 

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files. 

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents. 

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that. 

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door. 

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger. 

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes. 

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.” 

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours. 

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything. 

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you? 

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation. 

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do. 

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty. 

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more. 

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you. 

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?” 

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies. 

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle. 

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites. 

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment. 

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs. 

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction. 

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing. 

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it. 

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career. 

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm. 

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this. 

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder. 

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today. 

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision. 

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you. 

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly. 

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede. 

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply. 

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know?  But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs. 

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks. 

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans. 

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans. 

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says. 

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now. 

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

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[dear-ao3]

greetings my friends, romans and fellow countrymen. the time has come once again for me to spin you a yarn of a ridiculous, but absolutely true, tale.

is it candles again, saph? nay.

delaware, then? regrettably, no.

it is a ghost.

as you may know, katya (the other mod on this account) and i have recently moved into an apartment together, which is something that should have never been allowed but alas someone gave us adult money the power to make silly decisions and we went buck wild.

said apartment is weird and old. it may have been a hotel at one point. the building is entirely crooked, and we have 70s parquet floors, popcorn ceilings and a heat lamp in our bathroom.

katya was at the apartment (hereafter referred to as "the popcorn palace") before i was and one night about a week ago called me at 9pm to say "holy shit bestie i think i just saw a mouse"

mice in apartment buildings are not uncommon. and i said as much.

katya searched the whole apartment for the mouse or evidence of mice and came up empty. it was only then that katya told me that he had been sitting in the dining room at the time of the mouse sighting and thought that he had seen it out of the corner of his eye. and, that he was prone to seeing things that weren't there. and he was also tired.

nevertheless !!! katya went down to the front desk and said hello we have a mouse and the front desk said ok bet an exterminator will be there on tuesday.

a few days goes by. there are no more mouse sightings.

and then i moved in.

the day of the move in i woke up at 6am, drove 3.5 hours with my dad blasting a playlist of billy joel, pitbull and children's music, scrubbed crusty vomit out of my sisters new dorm room's carpets for 11 hours and finally arrived at the popcorn palace at 1am. to put it simply, i was exhausted.

katya was not at the popcorn palace that night. this is a crucial detail.

i went to shower around 2am and afterwards was standing at the sink brushing my teeth. out of the corner of my eye. i see something small run across the carpet in the hall.

my first thought was holy shit its the mouse

my second thought was wait a minute did i really see it

i went into the hall, half naked, and searched for the mouse. i found nothing. and then i went to bed.

the following day when katya spawned in i said, oh by the way i may have seen the mouse, but it was 2am and i had been up for 20 hours and it was out of the corner of my eye.

and katya looked me in the eyes and said.

"hey bestie. what if its a ghost. what if we have a ghost mouse."

it is important to note that neither of us believe in ghosts.

we named the ghost mouse desperaux.

you may think this is the end of the tale, but no.

nay! weary reader!

last night katya, fennec (katyas partner) and i were all in the apartment. we were up late dealing with a situation. at about 12:50am we all said goodnight and went to bed.

i turned off the bathroom light, the hall light, and then closed my door and hopped on tumblr for a few minutes. katya and fennec were still awake and at about 1am i saw the hall light turn on. i was like hm. they must still be awake. and so i went to bed.

i woke up at 7am to get ready for work and noticed that the hall light was still on. i figured that they must have forgotten to turn it off.

i turn off the hall light on my way to the bathroom and go about business as usual. katya comes out of his room to go make coffee and i say casually.

"oh bestie, why was the hall light on all night?"

and katya says "i thought you turned it on"

and i said "i was already in my room when it turned on"

katya looked concerned.

and i said "i turned the light off before i went to bed and i heard you guys still awake and then the light went on so i figured you went into the hall and forgot to turn it off"

and then katya said, very slowly, with fear in his eyes, "we were still in my room when the light went on because fennec got up to go check that the door was locked and said "oh the hall light is on, saph must have turned it on"

we both stared at each other in mild shock horror. do we have a ghost? it seems likely. did the ghost mouse turn on the hall light? potentially.

the exterminator is coming today. hopefully he specializes in ghosts.

we will keep you updated.

[tavyliasin]

Less than 12 hours til I shall arrive home in my SmutCave, like Batman but less money and more smut~ and of course I love working with my Just-Ass League ;)

Anyway, one more drabble from my shorts. And another that was a request from a beloved darling~

In this one the reader is an afab Tav, and Professor Gale is a senior colleague in an adjacent department... Could you keep your concentration on the spell?

Smut below the cut, loves, 18+ only. Tw/cw for use of hold person, a little mild power play, and reckless use of magic.

The room was cramped, musty, full of old scrolls and dust. Hardly suited to a romantic encounter, but who said anything about romance?

The table was hard beneath your back, the wood creaky and unyielding as the magic held you in place. Gale held the scroll in front of you now, watching you closely as you began to read.

“Get it right, and hold your concentration. We do not have endless weeks to waste on this single spell scroll if you want the promotion.” He reprimanded you again. It wasn’t even his decision to give you a pay rise and new title, but he had offered to help you out as a senior colleague from the adjacent department. Only, this wasn’t the help you had in mind.

The air was cool, and if your body could have moved it might have shivered in response to the draft that blew in from…gods knew where, really. “Professor, please,” you struggled, “hold it a little closer, I can’t read it from there.”

He moved forwards, a swish of purple robes as he sat on the edge of the desk next to where you lay, completely naked, firmly bound by the Hold Person spell he had cast a few minutes ago. “You need to be able to cast this one from memory, whilst under duress, and maintain your concentration.”

He leaned a little closer, holding the scroll steady while the scent of the soaps and perfumes he used drifted towards you. You might have tried to struggle, but every muscle was firmly locked in place.

Your mouth slowly formed the syllables of Heat Metal, aiming it at the iron mug of cold coffee that was suspended in the air, held aloft by an ethereal Mage Hand. 

“Good, go on. Keep going. Don’t forget to dot your i’s and cross your t’s now.” He took off his glasses and tucked them into his robe, still holding the scroll as he lifted your hand to his lips.

You got to the end of the text, the magic curling through the air and beginning to heat the mug. “Is that right?”

“Keep your concentration, you can’t let it drop before the coffee is properly hot.

“I’m trying!” You pleaded, feeling heat somewhere entirely different as his voice commanded you more directly.

“Stop trying, start doing . I am very thirsty, you know, and I haven’t had my morning drink yet.” Something about the way his eyes glanced down told you that he wasn’t talking about the coffee any more. “If you’re going to insist on taking so long with that, perhaps you’d offer something else to slake my thirst?”

If your legs could’ve moved, they would’ve writhed and squirmed as you replied with a breathless “yes-”.

He began to trail a long line down your body with his lips, pressing softly, teasing every tender spot he could find. He was trying to break your concentration on the spell, but you refused - that was far too little to truly shake you.

However, when he dipped lower and kissed your inner thighs, you found the edges of your nerve fraying. The sight of his soft brown hair between your legs, the look in his eye as he checked your reaction before going on, it was intensely arousing.

He was swift in his work, clearly challenging you to hold on to the control of your magic as he channelled some of his own into his tongue. The raw power made it buzz, the vibrations maddeningly pleasurable as he tasted every part of you, finding the exact motions that made your breath quicken.

“More,” he moaned, gazing up from between your thighs, “you need to give me more .”

You hadn’t expected this. You pointlessly tried to move your limbs, desperate to ball your fists in his hair and hold him right where you wanted him. You wanted to wrap your legs around his shoulders and keep him until you were done, taking your pleasure from him- but you had no such luck.

Gale’s thirst needed to be quenched, and he was determined to drink deep from you now. The heat, the fluttering vibrations of the weave’s own magic on his tongue and lips - you felt your spell sputter and flicker as the waves began to swell within sensitive nerves worked into a frenzy by the mage’s mouth.

“Gods, Professor-!” You barely managed to moan out his title when the shockwave hit, encompassing your entire being. If only you could move your body would’ve had a mind of its own, but you remained held in place.

This meant that the wizards tongue was not drawn away from its target, nor was he willing to stop even as your voice echoed around the walls of the small side room. You knew there was a study group not far, perhaps even an adjoining wall, but there was no way to contain the thrill that ripped through you as he relentlessly drew a second climax from you mere minutes after the first.

Hearing your ragged breath struggling to keep up, Gale let you ride out the afterglow with smoother, slower strokes of his tongue, finishing with a few gentle kisses to your still throbbing lips.

His hair was out of place as he stood up from where he had knelt between your legs on the table, calmly pressing it back down as he glanced towards the coffee.

“Not even a lick of steam, I must say I’m rather disappointed. I’m afraid you’re going to have to start over.” The smile on his face carried a hunger that left you feeling weak beneath his gaze.

I’ll have to study…a lot… you decided, as you began to cast the spell anew.

[wttcsms]

sorry if you're not comfortable answering this, but I saw you say that you've been diagnosed with depression. how did you know when to seek help?

tl;dr: from a young age, i never lived a healthy lifestyle with an easy pace. i (and maybe even my family) put too much pressure on me, and i never really coped with it in a healthy manner. my attempt at handling things "with ease" and "not stressing" was actually just me bottling up my emotions, and it's not until things started getting really bad that i finally sought help.

nothing uncomfy abt it at all! discussion of mental health is pretty important! tbh, i never thought i would have depression or be diagnosed with it; i started showing symptoms for around a year before i started really thinking to myself, hey, i think there might be something up with me mentally and this isn't just some silly, quirky thing i'm going through. ever since i was around 18, i went through great lengths to ensure i would achieve maximum academic success but while being a full-time college student and consistently working 60+ hours a week (70+ during the summer bc my junior year internship was so intense; i also went to college 2 years early, so i think that's when the internal pressure to "do well in life" began) was taking a massive toll on me mentally and physically. i would survive off of 4-5 hours of sleep, consume concerning amounts of caffeine, i was losing hair, i was losing drastic amounts of weight, i was breaking out and breaking down, and even when i got better, i still wasn't fully ever healed from that experience purely bc my schedule just never slowed down.

i am still a full-time student, i am still working 7 days a week, leading to 60+ hours (40 hours internship, 20 hours at my weekend part-time job). on top of that, i am in the second to last semester of my grad school, i help out around the house bc after my older sister moved out, i took over the eldest daughter duties, i am still holding myself to a very high standard academically (already planning to apply to phd programs, studying for the cpa exam, already have another summer internship lined up). i knew things were getting bad because 1) i am finally older (im abt to turn 21! yay!) and i realized that the lifestyle i'm living isn't healthy and 2) a lot of my behaviors didn't feel "normal" to me anymore. it finally hit me around two months ago, when i realized that i sort of lost my love for fanfiction. i've been in a weird mood where i didn't want to read any fanfic whatsoever, but i chalked it up to being "too busy" and focused on other things. when i couldn't even find the energy to read my own mutual's fanfic, i knew something was up bc i always try to power through and remain enthusiastic on my friends' behalf. more behaviors that were a cause for concern:

my disinterest in everything that brought me joy previously. sweet treats at the end of the day, coffee before work, buying makeup from sephora, cleaning my room (sounds silly, but i love having a clean living space and cleaning my room used to be a source of peace and joy for me), writing fanfiction, reading books, watching youtube videos, catching up on shows that would release weekly and that i used to count down the days to watch — none of it held my interest. i wasn't excited, i didn't care.

it wasn't just a lack of joy from things i loved, either. rejections from programs i looked forward to/rejections from opportunities, abysmal grades in class, looming deadlines that i most likely wouldn't make, growing assignments on my work to-do list; none of this elicited a reaction from me. there was no stress (that i was feeling; subconsciously, i think the stress was still there and i just refused to acknowledge it), but there also wasn't disappointment or sadness. i had no emotional response to anything, and that was very concerning to me, and the main reason i contacted my sister and then her boyfriend (who is a licensed psychiatrist)

i could sleep for 12+ hours a day. there are many days in the week where all i want to do is rot in bed. not even in a "go on my phone and dick around in bed" type of way, either. i would have certain days where i couldn't leave the bed. sometimes, i wouldn't even feel tired, but i would just sleep. my internship is wfh and if it was a slow day with no assignments, i would clock in and spend that whole day in my bed, sleeping. it got to the point where i wish work was busy so i would have something to force me out of bed. yes, i would be aware of my tiredness sometimes, but this felt different altogether. i just wanted to basically hibernate lol.

i had constant headaches. i thought it was because of the nature of my job, where i look at computer screens all day, or maybe it was bc i wasn't drinking enough water. i would also get unexplainable cramps sometimes.

tmi, but little to no pleasure and an extreme decline in interest in sex

i had extreme issues with focusing on work and studying; a lot of my work (and school materials) centers around thinking through problems and applying tax law or guidance to certain situations.

my diet fluctuated; some days, i wouldn't want to eat, yesterday, i gorged myself on food, eating to the point where even i had to pause and go wtf.

not very often was i randomly sad, nor did i ever want to kill myself or self-harm; when i was a teenager (17/18) and probably showing signs of depression, i was very irritable, angry, sad, and had suicidal thoughts, thought i was worthless, an idiot, etc. however, i mostly just feel empty and apathetic during my episodes now.

what helped me seek help was knowing that my behaviors and how i was feeling didn't feel healthy, but also, my best friend recently shared her diagnosis with me and i would have never thought she would be depressed. my sister's bf was also a major help in getting me comfortable to consider the possibility of having a mental illness and also in finding someone to talk to. hope this helps!

edit: forgot to mention it, but i exhibited many/all of those symptoms for around the past 3 months before ever seeking help. those behaviors started manifesting tremendously and seriously disrupting my daily life, and i knew i needed to do something to get my life back on track.

[renneiscent]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Note: All of the names from this story are fictional and I apologise for messy writing even though I already did my research.

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Chapter 2: A Lost Kitty

It’s been a year and half that I’m working in the Racounter. It’s pretty big company in the Northernbridge—a pretty big city and takes about 12 hours to fly here from Duskwood. I think I use all of my luck in my life so that I can work here. When Racounter was still a start-up, it already managed to be a dream company for everyone that wish to be journalist. Why wouldn’t it be? When this company always managed to be the first for getting so many information about important people; from artist, public figure, singer even to the politician—it feels like the people upstairs are having powerful backup or just simply dauntless to reveal all those dirty secrets from those important people.

But then here I am… a year and half yet still don’t have any breakthrough, just a girl who is bringing their coffees and doughnuts to other staffs. I take a deep breath as I’m looking at my hands which full with their orders. As the lift’s door is close, I’m watching at my reflection there.

Look at you, MC. Three years ago you were like an official investigator who helped finding a lost young girl, even interacted with the perpetrator, negotiated with the police officer, and almost got hacked by some weird guys. But right now? You back and forth to pick up your colleague’s coffee order, print their works, help their articles, and not even make a damn single work about your own project as the journalist?

I let out a long sigh as the lift’s door is open and walk out, heading to the office. I put my smile as I try to shrug it off whatever burden I just thought inside the lift, I’m handing their coffees and then put two boxes of doughnuts I just bought on the office kitchen’s table. My eyes are staring at every single of them, they look so busy and so cool. I wonder if they used to be in the same position like me. Can I even get out from my job as an errand girl and instead do some proper stuff like a good journalist I want to be?

“Nothing will change if I only stand still like this,” I tie my hair as I walk to my cubicle. Opening tab after tab and reading every file I can manage to collect. There must be some information that quite useful to get dug out. I try to contact everyone I know, from my school friends, to my neighbours, even the Duskwood’s chief police officer—Mr. Alan Bloomgate.

After what happened in the mine, few days after that then Alan called me to explain about everything briefly. I had no clue that time why the hell he didn’t ask me to come to Duskwood after everything that happened, especially when he was so intrigued for me to come to Duskwood. But then Jessy explained that Lilly asked Alan to not involve me any longer since Hannah already safe. Of course I thank Lilly for that. It’s not like I don’t want to go to Duskwood, I’m just not ready yet. After everything, after Richy and after Jake… there is no crucial reason for having little vacation there.

ALAN: I’m sorry MC but I don’t think there is big news here ALAN: Which I’m quite thankful for MC: Not even a robbery or another kidnapping case? ALAN: You are not serious, are you? MC: Sorry, I’m just quite hopeless ALAN: I pretty much understand ALAN: If that’s the hackerman of yours are still around, I’m pretty sure your job must be easier

Well, he is not completely wrong. Jake must be helping me out to get some pretty good information that I can use for. But it’s funny how Alan just brings him out of nowhere; I guess Jake is still on his nerve which is quite understandable and why not? When Jake hacked his stuff and even erased my name from police’s document as witness. Not to mention how FBI, that FBI invaded Duskwood for days just because they couldn’t find Jake in the mine. If only Jake and Alan met each other, it would be a completely chaos.

MC: Yeah probably MC: Anyway just write to me please, if there is some worth-to-post news MC: You wouldn’t mind if I ask for help, would you? ALAN: Of course I will gladly help ALAN: I will keep in touch

ALAN IS NOW OFFLINE

As my conversation with Alan is ended, I continue to read every collection of information I just have. Actually, I have no clues what am I after but I will do anything to make my own article… my own investigation. I couldn’t just always keep assisting and helping my colleague, right? Even though it’s part of the work but still…

“Miss Clarke, until when will you stay here? It’s already late, you know? I understand that you love our office so much, but please go home.” The voice behind me startled me; I look behind and find the man is fixing his scarf. William Ambrose, my colleague who managed to enamour not just women but also men in this building. He looks like coming out from romance novel; light brown hair, toned and tall body, a pair of captivating green eyes. Not only by appearance (or even his last royalty name), but his personality will make everyone fall for him too. I will be lying if I said that my heart never flutter with his demeanour; how on earth your heart is not beating so fast when a gorgeous man is being nice at you?

Just like another story I found amusing to tell to Jessy, I also told about him to her. I don’t even need to guess with her response which is of course she is shipping me with him and tell me to hit on him and move on. If only she’s not my friend, I would like to make her as geese’s treat.

I take a glance at the time on my desktop’s screen; it’s already this late huh?

“I guess you are right. I didn’t even realise it’s already this late,” I immediately tidy up my things as I chuckle. “Thank you for reminding me, Mister Ambrose. Are you going home?” I continue as trying to make small talk while my hands are busy to clean up my desk.

“Bet you were drowning in your work again.” He smiles while heading to the door, “I will love to walk you home but I have something important to catch up. Do you mind if I go first?” My hands stop putting my stuff inside my bag as I look at him, my brows furrow.

“That’s a strange question,” I laugh. “Of course I wouldn’t mind. Please go.”

“I thought we are in the same page, but it seems not.” He replies quietly before giving me his smile. I frowned hearing his words. “Well then… see you on Monday, Miss Clarke.”

He waves his hand to me before walking out from the office. Sometimes he can be really strange and I still don’t catch whatever reason behind his strange demeanour. Is it late puberty or hormones? I shake my head and then shut down my computer before heading to the lift. There are still some people pulling all-nighter in this building, I greet some of them which people I know.

Just as my heels heading out to the entrance of building, I can feel the night breeze brush my cheeks. It’s already this late so the taxi fee will be much expensive rather than the usual one. I want to save up more money that’s why I choose to walk. Perhaps if I’m lucky, I can catch up the train. Luckily, I’m wearing my comfy heels which make me easier to walk especially when passing this dark, sloppy and muddy alley.

I choose the dangerous path, I know. But I need shortcut, and also I don’t want to get really wet because of this sudden rainfall pouring out of nowhere—England and its beloved rain.

“Remind me why we need to do transaction in this filthy place?”

As I heard someone’s voice, my feet stop immediately. I quickly hide behind the cold and mossy wall. No, I didn’t intend to eavesdrop just because I’m a journalist and need material for my articles. I’m hiding because I’m scared with whatever transaction they are talking about is dangerous and they may or may not murder someone who accidentally passing by.

“The stuff we are doing is illegal if I need to remind you, sir.” The other man with hoarse voice scoffs, “do you suggest that we are having luxury and fancy dinner in Michelin star restaurant while handing these rare items to the one of important people in UK?”

My eyes widen in surprise as my heart is beating so fast. This is why I need to hide. Should I just go back to another way or maybe, just maybe… I can peek and take a quick glance, just a quick glance for recognising whoever those people are.

I take a deep breath before exhaling it slowly, trying to comfort myself to remain calm. I take small and quiet steps then peeking behind the wall. Damn, I didn’t think about the coat they are wearing to cover their faces. I cannot even recognise the single feature from this distance especially when the rain is making it much harder to identify them—them… not just two people there, but I think it’s 10 people if I’m not mistaken. It’s hard to be certain. I should just back off since I still have chance. It will be nightmare if those people notice me here.

BRAKK—!

I forgot there is dustbin behind my back as I stepped back slowly. My body is in freeze and I’m unable to hear anything besides the rain falling. Just before I want to move, there is a sudden figure covered by black coat in front of me. My body immediately response and snap me back to the reality. I’m sprinting with all of my power, running away from whoever that person is, because I know, if I get caught then…

I’m running and passing through the alley, I cannot do this anymore. I’m almost out of breath as my stamina to run is decreasing. Just after I turn to the left, someone is pulling me harshly and pinning me against the wall. As reflex, of course I want to scream, but that person’s hand already covering my mouth.

“Shh,” he shushes me. I look up and want to see whoever this person is, but he is covered with hood and mask. The only thing I can see is his gaze which watching the alley, waiting and monitoring if those people can find us.

As both of us are waiting for the situation to be clear, our gap is closer thus I can hear his heavy breath. My eyes are trying to take a good look from the man in front of me; he is larger than me so whoever he is will be a new death threat after those people. My head is busy making scenario how to escape or even defend myself from this guy till it makes me so dizzy.

“You keep meddling into bizarre and dangerous situation,” his deep and quiet voice is realising me from the scenario I have been thinking. He pull away his hand which covered my mouth before, his eyes now are staring at me. I can see his blue eyes are swallowing me. “Did you enjoy it?”

[nickibun]

January 31st, 2024

12:12 PM

Café on Fifth Ave

— ed log:

Jasmine Tea | 0 cal

Latte w/ Almond Milk | 130 cal

— usage + mood:

i’m feeling still today. granted, i took 1 mg of kpin and a bit of doc before bed last night, then a bit more this morning. also 10 mg of adderall to balance it out. thought i’d be able to make it to class this morning. obviously, i didn’t.

i’m sitting in a cafe sipping this latte trying to find the will power to sit in a classroom with my peers. my professor hasn’t seen me since two weeks ago. i keep telling myself im ok, and i truly think i am, but whenever someone asks i suddenly break down.

— daily log:

yesterday, i woke up next to 'A'. we rolled around in bed, and cuddled, and pillow talked. i really started to believe i could open up to her. we've been talking for about three months, on & off.

i am beginning to really like her. i introduced her to some of my friends the night prior. we went to a party and had a great time. sneaking off into corners, doing bumps of blow + making out was my favorite part. the stares we'd get were a close second.

we're both fashion students, but shes a bit older. ive been skeptical as to whether she really likes me at all, but that night seemed to confirm it.

once the party began to wind down, things got a bit strange. id rather not relive it so lets leave it at that. i told her i wanted to leave. so we did. hopped in a cab back to my friend's place, grabbed my tito's and went to mine.

we kissed and laughed in the cab. we took our clothes off and snuggled in my bed. once the energy was right, i lit candles and played the right music. ate her out for an hour until she came all over my sheets. her moans live in my mind.

we took a bath together, giddy yet calm conversation amongst candles in the dark.

"we complement each other well" she said.

as she dozed off while i caressed her back, i couldn't help but realize i might be falling.

i went to the bathroom to get high again.

the next morning, she wakes up around 8:30 am.

im already up, crying on the phone to my best friend about who knows what. as well as starting an argument with my friends from the party. my energy is heavy again.

'A' texts me from my bedroom, "did you sleep at all?"

i quickly rush out of the bathroom, my pupils pinned and eyelids heavy,

"of course dear, i got up early. i didn't mean to scare you."

she raises her arms out of the blanket, signaling me to give her a hug. she can see ive been crying. we laugh and pillow talk all morning. we talk lightheartedly about our trauma, childhoods, and she tells me she really likes getting to know me when i show vulnerability.

the juxtaposition of morning sun on our skin, what others would deem dark topics while we laughed and cuddled and kissed make it impossible to not love her. ive never felt more comfortable or genuine with a girl before. she sees me. i see her.

my soul feels light once again.

we get coffee, she leaves for therapy at 11:30, kisses me good bye. calls minutes later to see if she forgot something. comes back. as i open the door she says she had found it but came to kiss me again.

my heart is numb but if it could, i knew it'd be fluttering.

hours pass, we both have class. speak at five, with no demise. then at nine, i begin to whine. paranoia creeps in. theres nothing wrong, except that the days been too long.

"whatre ya doing?"

she doesnt respond.

"never mind then"

i call her, she declines.

"im on the train."

i check her location,

shes a few blocks from mine.

i check again;

she turns it off.

im getting high again. i call my best friend and cry again. my energy defaults, heavy once again.

[purplesurveys]

1727

Did you get enough rest last night?  I really didn't. I slept at 5 AM thinking that would surely let me sleep in the entire morning, but my body still automatically woke me up at 9 and didn't let sleep again by then.

What was the last thing that kept you awake?  That would be right now – I finished off the entire first season of D.P. which I ended at around half past midnight, and now I'm back in my room downing the rest of my coffee with no intention to sleep yet, even with just four hours of rest haha.

If you have pets, do they sleep in your bedroom at night?  No, they have their own corner in the living room.

Can you sleep with background noise or does it keep you up?  It helps me fall asleep as the light noise gives me a sense of security, so I kind of need it.

Do you ever take naps? Do you take long naps or little power naps?  Occasionally. I can never do power naps as they always end up feeling super insufficient for me, and I prefer having 3-4 hour naps.

What helps when you have trouble sleeping?  I'd need to go through my phone and watch a lot of videos since that quickly gets the job done.

Who was the last person to cook you a meal? What did they make?  My mom made pasta for sharing a few days ago.

Who was the last person you cooked a meal for? What did you make?  I don't cook for anyone, because I don't cook.

Who is your female celeb crush? (If applicable)  Song Hye Kyo, Park Jihyo.

Who is your male celeb crush? (If applicable)  RM of BTS.

Tell me about an interesting article you’ve read recently.  Andi shared a pretty unique piece with me this morning which was basically a personal essay of why McDonald's' Coke seems to taste better than Coke literally anywhere else. It was silly yet insightful, mundane yet so weirdly intriguing and fascinating. For somebody who doesn't even like soda, I found myself reading until the very end. I liked it a lot and subscribed to that author right away lol.

Do you have a favorite Marvel character?  I'm not into anything superhero.

Favorite DC character?  Yeah, no.

Do you read comic books?  I tried getting into them but I got tired of faking it LOL so I just accepted that comic books and superheroes and I will never mix.

Has a horror film ever actually scared you? Which one(s)?  I found Paranormal Activity to be a refreshing horror concept for its time and it successfully gave me the creeps, especially with the multiple endings. The sequels unsurprisingly didn't hold up the same magic but I'm very much willing to defend the first movie to my grave haha. OH Midsommar was also super freaky. I nearly refused to drive home that night because I was afraid of seeing the trees in the neighborhood suddenly pulsating.

What was the last horror movie you saw? The Menu counts as horror-ish, no?

What was the first horror movie you remember seeing? What did you think of it?  The Exorcist. I was 12 and immediately downloaded a torrent when a quick "what's the scariest movie ever" Google search led me to that movie. In hindsight, though, because I already had expectations of how scary it is, I think that sort of pre-conditioned me to be more sensitive to the jump scares and all the freaky shit that happened in the movie – so 13 years ago, I was definitely spooked.

Realistically though, I feel if I watched it again now at 25 I'd probably find some of the effects more comedic than scary, BUT one thing I'll never get over are *those* demonic images that pop up like three times across the movie. Regardless of how old I get I feel like I'll always look away from those lol.

Name a few historical figures you find interesting. Why?  I recently learned about Herbert K. Pililaau, the US soldier who fought off Korean soldiers on his own while the rest of his crew? platoon? (idk terms) had been assigned somewhere else at the time. Fucking dude kept firing until he was out of ammunition; then switched to grenades; then when he ran out of those too, ended up with knife in one hand, fist in the other to fight the best and longest he could before he was finished off; when he was found, he was surrounded by more or less 40 soldiers he managed to kill. Obviously I don't support war and this is a shitty story all around, but this scenario is straight out of a movie.

What is your favorite historical film and why?  Gone with the Wind. I have yet to understand the complexities and deeper contexts behind the Civil War and all other questions related toit; and when I say it's my favorite it's largely because of the production value and how unprecedented such a movie was to have come out at the time it did.

Do you usually enjoy historical films?  Yes, as long as they don't extremely deviate from or betray things that actually happened, especially if we're covering atrocities or human right violations.

Name a sequel film (any franchise) you like better than the first film. Why is that?  Shrek 2. It's the Shrek movie I grew up with so I'll always be biased towards it.

Which do you find most interesting: Greek, Roman, or Norse mythology? Why?  Eugh, I really dislike mythology haha.

Which tale from whichever mythology you listed above do you find most interesting?  I read Percy Jackson and that's the most I'll read as far as mythology.

Do you collect anything? What was the last item you added to that collection?  Just BTS merch. Last things that arrived were my copies of D-Day and Face, but I'm expecting my orders of Jack in the Box and Layover to arrive October latest.

Do you have any houseplants?  We do, but it's my mom who takes care of them.

How do you like your tea?  As coffee.

Who is your favorite Muppet?  Wasn't really raised on Muppets.

What is your favorite type of bird?  Penguins. < Yes.

Which streaming platform do you use the most, if any?  Spotify.

What is a skill or useful piece of knowledge you wish you’d learned sooner?  How to pack smart.

What is your favorite vampire movie?  TWILIGHT SAGA ALWAYS AND FOREVER

Your favorite fictional couple?  Chandler and Monica from Friends; Glenn and Maggie from The Walking Dead; Mark and Joanna from Two for the Road.

Do you have a favorite historical couple?  Not really, no.

Have you received any good news recently?  Nah.

Have you learned anything new recently?  I took the 16 personalities test earlier for my ~annual check-in and found out I've switched from an ESFJ to an ESTJ. No big change other than the fact that I apparently think more with my head now hah.

[personalanonymousrants]

I'm in a weird place in life, story time.

Every hour in my day is spent staring at a screen while sitting in my couch. Studies? Online. (Currently in vacation so yeah, not even studying) Friendships? Online, and currently very few (2 to be exact). Therapy? Online, once a week. Mental stimulus? Reading random posts on all sort of subjects online. Do I leave my house for anything, ever? Very, very rarely. Irl friends/companies? My ex, only him (he's not a monster, I assure you). We see each other every weekend and occasionally after he leaves work on a weekday when I *need* to get out of the house even if it is for just one hour to grab a coffee and watch the street.

I feel like I'm floating in the void of outerspace, completely lost.

Recently, I've been bombarded by my own thoughts of projects I abandoned. If you're reading this, brace yourself, this gonna be long. From 8 years of age I took great interest on reading, writing, acquiring knowledge (not always useful), learning languages (here am I fluent in English now). 12 years of age, I absolutely loved writing on notebooks (I'd always carry 3 of them EVERYWHERE in my backpack, each for a different topic). I would also spend hours on end drawing anime/mangá style art. 14 years of age, I got my very first tablet and began trying digital art and painting, while maintaining all the rest. I carried on all of those interests and hobbies until my 15 years of age.

In between 12 and 15, my privacy was breached many times and I got bullied for my art, for my texts, for my attempts creative expression as a whole. I was not one to express verbally already (actual autism, selective mutism), because talking felt unsafe and bullying made that worse. Overtime, artistic and creative expression felt less and less safe.

Until by 15 years of age I got into an abusive relationship and dropped everything. I lost my voice, and what was left of my ability to express myself along with my dignity and self-respect. I just gave up for good on trying to express myself in any way.

Got out of that relationship at 17. Entered another one with an alcoholic, made some attempts at trying to start writing again, on private, password protected journals on a website I won't disclose. Again I was forced to let someone read my stuff and had verbal stones thrown at me. By 19 I left that relationship, and entered another one. Healthier one, but not perfect, still with some toxic traits because nobody is perfect he is unable to understand some things about me and is unaware of others, all he knows is I'm traumatized (got PTSD from the 2 previous relationships), mentally fucked and hard to deal with. [He also has untreated ADHD (which doesn't favor him being able to listen to my long explanations of what's actually going on with me), and a very critical personality (though he means to be constructive, he lacks sense. Both of us think he might be autistic as well as he does identify with it, but he can't focus on learning more about it as he can't for any other psychology or neurodevelopment/neuroscience topic, at least he tried).]

I again tried to recover my interests and means of creative expression through art and stuff, but as a critical designer he'd give his unsolicited opinion and again unknowingly take away my freedom of expression by accident when he was only trying to help, he was unaware on how his comments hit me in a very different way and I was unable to communicate that to him, explain, or make him aware. That relationship ended by unrelated reasons when I was 22, in May. Just over a year ago. It was very hard to deal with the breakup and he remains as my only in-real-life friendship/social interaction other than my mom and occasionally grandparents.

I am currently 23 years old, I want to try to recover/reclaim my life, my voice, my creative power, creative expression, writing, drawing on paper, doing digital art. I started by beginning in oil painting, my paintings are unfinished and have been sitting in my shelves for months now with no new alterations. I feel like writing and I know not what to write about because there is this huge block which is something in between a creative block and a sense of danger/unsafe in my chest.

I feel like drawing on paper but I don't even try all the progress I worked so hard on making in my skills between 12 and 15 was totally lost. I don't know what to draw anymore (nothing comes to mind) and when I try it feels like everything is too ugly. Digital art is even worst. It's worth mentioning I lost any precision I had with a pen or pencil (I also shake a lot due to Anxiety and PTSD). So I decided to focus on other areas of life, started college online in a unrelated subject, while pursuing this technical degree online I'm also trying entrance exams for another university in a totally different bachelor (psychology) to do both at the same time.

I made projects that would suit well this focus on other areas:

Finishing oil paintings.

Reading Tarot/Sibilla/Lenormand professionally.

Teaching English conversation.

I have not taken a single step forward in any of those. It's like I'm petrified into staring at the computer and doing the same things over and over again:

Studying

Talking to online friends

Browsing random knowledge

Reading random books

I have lost my capability to organize my life/tasks and move things forward, completely. The only thing I'm moving forward is college which is now on break.

The wish to express myself creatively is calling me constantly, yet the block still stops me. The biggest advance I made towards that is rambling about my personal life in this anonymous page which I'm constantly paranoid about being linked to my identity or figured out by anyone in real life (specially my ex who's my only friend, or the closest I got to one. He has my back in a lot of stuff) for no special reason other than the feeling of unsafe exposure.

I will keep on trying to improve my organization. I will keep on trying to regain my power of self-expression, be it artistic, textual, visual, and even someday verbal! I know this will be a long battle, and any support is welcome since I have no means to express to anyone irl (other than my therapist) that I need that support. I must not give up even if any drawbacks shove me straight back in my isolated cave. I hope someday I'll be able to produce quality art again, in texts or images, and post it here, and eventually somewhere not anonymous. If I get there, I will be proud. I just don't know how to start or what to even try first, but somehow I will figure, wing it! Any advice is welcome. If you read this far, thank you very much for giving so much attention to this fragment of the story of my life, that truly is much appreciated.

Thank you, Tumblr. This is indeed an amazing website.

[brunhiddensmusings]

sometimes i am baffled by my life

in one day i get confirmation that the 26k student loan debt from ITT criminal justice courses back in 2009 that shouldnt have been on my name has been removed after two months of trying to explain this as this was the only thing stopping me from getting the loan for the 1974 mobile home i was trying to buy decide i should comparison shop online for furnishings, and apparently one of the best options for a bed is the fucked up grandpa bed from stardew valley.... i am tempted, because its 50 dollars, but im also tempted by the one that looks like its literally 2X4s nailed together for about ten dollars more. all purchases will wait untill i finally have the deed for the gloriously shitty box lined with wood paneling thats older then i am and the first purchase will be a lava lamp in the bisexual color scheme literally ten minutes later i get scammed by someone claiming my steam has been hacked and i feel so, so very stupid, they have literally all my banking information now, also they were using an icon that was the chubby kid from the movie ‘up’ bank is closed and its a 18 hour wait till i can go in to the bank to tell them what happened, i am awake for this all as i have a full time night shift, get off when the bank is not opened yet, have a six hour day shift, and hurriedly get to the bank before its closed. getting my steam account repaired may take i have no idea how long i am formally requested to explain to someone what a yaoi paddle is but am unable to show them a photo find out the song i like on the late night radio block of recent indie music is in fact a they might be giants song from over 12 years ago, a great use of my detective training my brother asks me to help him split wood, the logs in question are what i would call ‘jhon goodman diameter’ 9 year anniversary of the vasectomy of failed anesthesia find out what i had thought was a wild animal invading my sleeping spot was in fact someone accessing the pipe above it while i was gone to shut off water because its the time of the year that pipes freeze get confirmation my infection has recovered enough i do not need part of my face removed find out my ex stole my mace and threw it away at least i still have the sword and shield i found in a dumpster forget to sleep because im too busy watching videos on how to make tiger skin eggs despite 1- i have no kitchen yet 2- i was looking for how to use cocoa powder to make cafe mocha, or is it hot coco mix, does it work with instant coffee.... explain to someone that the idea an exorcism requires an old priest and a young priest originated in an austin powers movie because it was a joke about a continuity error in the exorcist movie where a body double was used have discussion with someone on what my upcoming vtuber avatar should look like as well as what content i would plan to make people vocally angry i have not started a podcast climbs into the double digits what a weekend

[an-apocalypse-of-magpies]

Why you wouldn’t actually like the Serbian Pigeon Film

Seeing that thing about ‘film bros when you’d rather watch marvel movie than 2hr black and white movie about serbian govt through the eyes of a pigeon’ again has given me thoughts about performative interest in art.

Specifically, the amount of people coming forward and saying about how, actually, they really like the sound of a 2hr black-and-white film, about the Serbian government, told through the eyes of a pigeon.

I’m probably going to ruffle a few feathers here, but ... no, you probably won’t. Or, more specifically, the audience that would actually like that film is probably a lot smaller than the Tumblr comments would imply.

Before we get any further, I want to point out that I’m not saying this in a ‘marvel movies are true art and i can’t handle any cinematic nuance’ kind of way. Mass market blockbuster movies could definitely stand to be more ambitious as far as artistic endeavour goes. Nor am I saying that complex art movies cannot be good. What I am saying is that, deep down, a lot of people like the idea of art movies more than the actual art movies themselves.

A lot of people like the idea of going to the opera, to fine art museums, to poetry recitations and lectures on obscure and specific topics. But whether they’ll actually enjoy the art when they get there is another matter. I am reminded of a study where, when asked about their taste in coffee, most people will say something like ‘a rich, dark roast’ or ‘full-bodied’, but when those same participants actually drank coffee, they tended to go for a lighter, middle-of-the-road roast that could brew quick and easy. This isn’t necessarily duplicitous - many people like cake but wouldn’t have cake every day, rich dark roasts might be expensive or time-consuming and thus had as a treat rather than an everyday coffee - but, for the most part, people tend to overstate their interest in ‘sophistication’.

‘Sophistication’, and by extent fine art, is entirely subjective and cultural norms shift. A couple of centuries ago, prawns/shrimp were seen in Europe as only good for fish bait, and lobsters were so reviled that an actual worker’s rights movement in Massachusetts in colonial days limited their lobster ration because it was seen as a garbage foodstuff fit only for criminals and slaves. A lot of old films were the blockbusters of their day. Shakespeare, to use the famous if facetious turn of phrase, was writing dick jokes for the masses. But, based on the aesthetics of the day, certain things will be associated with class and good character. Because of historic gatekeeping, this is often art that is rare and/or expensive for the area in which it is consumed, or requires a high level of technical skill to create, or requires a high level of analysis to appreciate everything going on, and as such has often been the province of the rich, who have the time and/or money to invest in such pursuits. A mill-worker who can’t read or write and works 12 hours a day won’t be able to access a complex metaphysical novel like his rich and educated boss who has much more free time. Obviously, in the modern day, media is very accessible and literacy is generally speaking pretty good, global trade means that rare luxury goods and foodstuffs from the other side of the world are not so prohibitively expensive, and many more can engage with the things that are considered ‘sophisticated’.

Coming back to the coffee thing, I once worked in a shop selling fine loose leaf teas and coffees. Even among the coffee lovers who came in, the darkest coffees were a really hard sell. The darkest coffee in the range was intensely roasted, aged in the monsoon season, somewhat oily and extremely powerful in its odour, often described as ‘tarry’ or ‘peaty’. Most people went for a medium roasted coffee from Colombia, or a magarogype coffee that was slightly darker roasted but had more natural sweetness. The price difference was insignificant - in fact, but weight, the magarogype was slightly more expensive - and the access was there. I have no doubt that the intense and rich flavour of the monsoon-aged coffee beans would have been complex and multifaceted, a perfect dark rich roast. But the only people who liked it were old men. Most of the coffee fanatics went for the middle-of-the-road, because at the end of the day, that’s what they really wanted to consume.

So why am I going on about coffee and not Serbian pigeon movies? Because enjoying complex, philosophical/metaphysical art films is the film equivalent of a rich dark roast of coffee. Everyone says they like them, because it is considered a mark of good character to appreciate complex art, and a lot of people think of themselves as having good character (and the media literacy to appreciate and analyse complex art). Many people, I’m sure, even enjoy complex art films every now and then, as an occasional treat. But if asked to put their money where their mouth is and actually go and watch, again, a 2hr film in black-and-white, about the Serbian government, told from the eyes of a pigeon? I’m willing to bet most people would not have the motivation, or find it hard to justify the time and mental energy it would take to unpack that film. And, to be clear, it would not be an easy film to make and it would not be an easy film to watch. People pointing out the interest factor, of this intensely human political drama being observed from the point of view of an animal that fundamentally does not understand what’s going or, frankly, care, have left an unspoken issue hanging - if our viewpoint character has no reason to engage with the narrative happening around them, they’re never going to drive or even necessarily follow the plot, and if that happens it’s not a story. At that point, it’s just a nature documentary with stuff happening in the background that, again, the viewpoint character cannot understand. The dialogue of humans probably wouldn’t mean much if anything to a pigeon. One doorway is much like any other doorway. Pigeons can recognise faces, and recognise people who are good to them, but with a pigeon’s priorities, the narrative is unlikely to stay with those humans while they do things that might be of interest to a human audience. It’s a film that sounds very interesting, but wouldn’t be any fun to watch, because it spits in the face of all of our conventions of plot, characters, storytelling, or motivations.

And maybe some people will like that. Some people would really like that. But, on the whole, people are overstating how much they would like that. Hbomberguy, in his video essay on the game Pathologic, asked whether media has to be enjoyable to be good. To that I say, no, it doesn’t necessarily have to be enjoyable. People love harrowing human tragedies because they allow us to workshop our way through difficult circumstances and emotions that might not come up very often in our own lives. But while art does not have to be enjoyable, it does have to be engaging. Because to call art good art, you need to be able to see if not necessarily understand what it is trying to talk about, and to do that you need to be able to attend to the art and pick out its themes and motifs, and you can’t do that if you can’t engage with it. This is why a lot of people write off certain works as being ‘boring’ or ‘difficult’, even if those things are widely considered to be good art. How many people have the complete works of Shakespeare on their bookshelves and never read them, complaining about the inaccessible language and humour/wit shifts over the last 400 years?

‘That’s quite interesting’ can only carry a person so far as far as engagement goes. Sooner or later, they are going to have to get in the weeds of what that work is trying to do. And, if that work hasn’t grabbed them by that point with some other intrigue, it would be easy for people to say ‘well, that’s boring’ and move on to something else. Is the Serbian Pigeon Film bad art because you got bored of it? Debatable. The merits of art are subjective. You are allowed to not be interested in something that is ‘good art’ just as much you are allowed to find enjoyment in something which is considered ‘bad art’. And, in this instance, I may be a bit biased - I don’t think the Serbian Pigeon Film would be a worthwhile artistic experience, and that colours both how I perceive the film’s potential artistic merits and also my opinions on the sorts of people who would find it a worthwhile artistic endeavour.

I’m going to throw some names out that will probably cause psychic damage to seasoned Tumblr users. All or Nothing, the series about a vibrant and extroverted asexual person and their roommate relationship with an introverted and subdued pansexual person. Miss Officer and Mr Truffles, about the wacky high-jinx of an earnest police officer and her bear cub sidekick, based on a viral photograph appearing to show a police officer taking notes and conferring with a wild black bear. Dashcon, the convention celebrating all aspects of Tumblr culture and popular fandom. Even Goncharov, a joke film based on a bizarre label on some bootleg shoes that turned into a collaborative brainstorming session for a movie that never existed. All of these were born from an idea. An earnest idea, a joke, a quip (also, all of them turn out to be crowdfunding scams where the creators stole the money and ran, except for Goncharov, which was never in any serious talks to be made that I know of). A series with a rarely-represented ace and pan protagonist duo, overturning the stereotypes of both sexualities for humour value. A quirky buddy-cop-meets-animal-mascot show. A place to meet and share fandom with other Tumblr users. The so-called ‘greatest mafia movie that never existed’. All of these are things became memetic sensations because they were ‘quite interesting’ or ‘sound fun’. But, as we saw, none of them could keep up the momentum after a couple of bits. A few comic panels and short animated opening sequences couldn’t convince people to care about Miss Officer and Mr Truffles’ wacky exploits. The enormity of organisation that goes into setting up a fan convention sank Dashcon. Goncharov doesn’t even have a plot, just the outlines of vignettes, with the central appeal of Goncharov being the willingness to weld different people’s ideas of the ‘canon’ together and relying on the gaps to hold it together; the cinematic equivalent of the old joke about nets being holes tied together with string.

Sure, the Serbian Pigeon Film sounds interesting on the surface, but I don’t think it can carry itself with its own premise. And, if it does, it would probably be Tarkovsky-esque in its cerebrality and only of real interest to scholars. It would go the way of so many Kickstarters - inventive ideas that people just aren’t really that willing to invest in. Or, y’know, a scam. It’s fun to sit an look at, but not to put any actual effort into. To use a low-art comparison, it’s like cheap schlocky monster movies like Shark Exorcist which trying to sucker you in with a premise because a mildly-humorous premise is all they’ve got. Cinematic Potemkin villages.

Fundamentally, the original post wasn’t even about the Serbian Pigeon Film being good or bad, enjoyable or boring. It was about the film bros who do like this (hypothetical) art film, being scandalised that someone would rather watch a mass market appeal film, like a Marvel superhero blockbuster, than the Serbian Pigeon Film. And while we can infer mockery towards either side (the film ‘normie’ who doesn’t want challenging media, or the film ‘snob’ who is so obsessed with art films that they forget that art films may not be enjoyed by a casual moviegoer who just wants a couple of hours of enjoyable film entertainment without needing to do homework), the post seemed to be making fun of pretentious film snobbery. Not the enjoyment of the Serbian Pigeon Film specifically, but losing sight of others’ tastes in the process.

I guess the conclusion I’m trying to draw here is less ‘stop having fun guys’ and more ‘be mindful of overstating your interest in hypothetical media to yourself, not because you cannot like pretentious or cerebral media, but because it’s easy to write yourself as an enjoyer of media not because you actually like it but because you think you should be’. Liking art films is fine, don’t let me stop you. But do you really like art films, or do you just say you do because it’s unseemly to say you don’t? Because that last one goes both ways, too - do you really like the popular thing, or do you just put up with it because everyone expects you to like it?

[vividentropy]

Entry #2

The Entries Catalog | Tuesday, July 9, 2024

12:34PM

I’m finally awake enough to start writing.

Internet is still wonky. Wifi isn’t working (I can connect but there’s nothing). This makes YouTube load slow, but at least I have something to listen to. Power stood on all night. My right eye still itches. Can’t seem to get comfortable.

I think today I will start packing my stuff for next week. My list is down somewhere in the mess of my room. To be honest, it shouldn’t take too long. I’m only going to be there for several days, so I don’t have to bring much. Maybe in the process I’ll go tidy up this room a bit. I messed it up trying to find one of my favorite band tees.

Sidenote, I still can’t believe it’s Tuesday. It feels like a Sunday. I miss my boyfriend.

2:11 PM

We’ve had Wifi back for about an hour now. Just ate my mom’s hamburger. Coffee is right beside me.

No lie, I feel relief having YouTube on. It’s nice having something playing on the background. It’s like my own personal soundtrack. I’m not left alone with my thoughts. I could later today put my first entry on queue. But first I need to throw my bag together. That’s my priority. Second is everything else – make a queue on my site, tidy this room, play FFXIV Online.

I just remembered that my parents went to Kohl’s. I wish I went with them because I gotta pick up something there. I have an order waiting for me. But they also handed me Kohl’s Cash, which is active the second to last day I have to pick up my order. And I was thinking about grabbing socks, so I’ll take advantage of that. For some reason, I’ve become picky on what socks I like. There’s no good reason other than they feel comfortable with my shoes.

9:01 PM

Of course, the internet goes out again.

It went out about ten, fifteen minutes ago. I was enjoying my time listening to YouTube, planning to put my first entry up in my queue. But of course, I didn’t think ahead or anything. All I got done in my time with the internet is packing my stuff for my trip to see my boyfriend next week. I need to make a list of things that I need to get. For sure, deodorant. Probably wipes too because I depend on those. Can’t spend too much money because I want to save some for the trip. I’ll need to make a bigger list tomorrow morning, since I’m going out with my sis to grab stuff. Either Walmart or Target. Probably the latter since it’s close to Kohl’s, which is where my pickup is. I also need to figure out a crossbody purse to bring, since I don’t think my mom wants me to use my fanny pack.

But I love my fanny pack, so I’m most likely going to bring it. I’ve devolved from crossbody purses to my pockets. But when I’m traveling, I do like to have my important shit close by me.

I probably should mention that my boyfriend gave me the fanny pack I currently use. It’s perfect. Fits everything I need with room for a few more things.

I guess for now, I’m going to wind down. Wash my face, brush my teeth, try to cool down. If I have time, maybe I’ll get creative with something.

Until next time,

Vivid Entropy

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 5

Harry confronts you with a familiar piece of suspiciously folded parchment, and you tell him the story of how you helped create it (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 5 .:Narrow Spaces and New Alliances:. 

Your eyes drifted open slowly, the bright streams of sunlight coming in through your window strangely unbecoming of 12 Grimmauld Place. It took you a moment to get your bearings as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and remembered where you were. As you sat there, looking around Sirius' guest bedroom, last night's events all seemed to flood back to you at once. You groaned into the comforter, feeling your face burn as you recalled blatantly staring at his lips just minutes after crying into his shirt for at least half an hour.

Come on, get it together, you thought to yourself, you're here because Dumbledore summoned you, stay on task.

However, as soon as that memory left your head another replaced it, this one weighing heavier on your chest. You found yourself thinking back to your encounter with Severus. Well, as much as you could call it an 'encounter.' Even when you couldn't see him, you could feel him when you reached out to him with your mind. Severus was good at blocking legillemency— too good, in fact, because you would know the familiar force of his mental shield anywhere. You'd never felt it as powerful coming from anyone else. You almost laughed at the irony of it; the very thing he was trying to use to keep hidden was exactly what had given him away. That, and the smell of him, which took you back to the moment you'd first smelled that damn amortentia potion. . .

You tried to shake off the thought as you properly got out of bed and changed into some casual clothes. The next Order meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon, so you had the day mostly to yourself, but you knew the next time you were all in a room together you would have to address some things privately if you had any hope of working together efficiently. You gently padded down the wooden stairs, the door to Sirius' room still closed. He never was an early riser.

As you reached the kitchen you began to put a pot of coffee on when you heard someone approach the room, stalling in the kitchen entrance. You turned around to see Harry in the doorway.

“Morning,” you grinned, turning back to the counter and using your wand to bring some water to a boil, “Coffee? Tea?”

“Oh,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed you'd caught him in mid-thought, “no, I'm okay.”

“What's on your mind?” you asked.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me, I mean, if you have the time. . .” he trailed off, reaching for his back pocket, “well, the thing is, a few years ago I found—”

“Kreacher heard sounds coming from the kitchen and did not expect (Y/n)'s return,” Harry jumped at the house elf's sudden arrival, but you seemed unphased.  

“Though master's half mudblood godson remains here,” the elf muttered to himself, “How many more days must it be?”

“Hello, Kreacher,” you greeted him, “nothing nasty about Harry, now, alright? Don't forget he's my godson too.”

“Of course,” Kreacher said, thickly sarcastic but with respect for you in his tone nonetheless. His permanent frown seemed to deepen, however, when he saw you next to the coffee maker. “(Y/n) of house (L/n) should not have to be using the kitchen. Mistress Black would have wept to see a pureblood use muggle equipment. If (Y/n) requires refreshment Kreacher will have it ready.”

“There's no need for that,” you said, “Besides, it's done already, see? You can go on now.”

Kreacher squinted at the cup you poured for yourself. “Always peculiar,” he grumbled, stalking away at your request and muttering to himself all the while.

“He's oddly. . . nice to you,” Harry said, green eyes quizzical behind his round-framed glasses.

“He is,” you chuckled.

“But, well, you're—”

“A blood traitor?” you gave him an easy smile when you saw his expression, easing his fears that he'd actually offended you. “I know,” you said, “he's been through a lot, it's complicated. Trust me, he wasn't always like this to me. It takes time. And it doesn't hurt to be nice to him either.”

Harry decided against bringing up that the nicest person that he knew to the house elf was Hermione, who Kreacher regularly called a 'mudblood wench,' but decided to focus on the 'taking time' part of your statement, wondering  just how long this kind of progress took with the spiteful elf. Besides, you seemed to have some sort of history with him.

“Anyways, what was it you were saying?” you asked Harry.

“Oh, right,” he said, reaching back around him, “um, my friends Fred and George, you've met them?”

“Molly and Arthur's twins, of course,” you smiled, “little imps, they are. Those two could give your father and Sirius a run for their money.”

“Right!” Harry said, “well, that's sort of the point. They're the ones who gave me this.”

As you turned around to face him you stalled mid-stir, nearly dropping your mug as you did. Even as a piece of blank parchment you knew what it was, the distinctive accordion folds that met in the center giving it away.

“How in the world. . .” you trailed off as Harry handed it to you, “but Filch—”

“Didn't do a very good job of hiding it, apparently,” Harry finished, “I thought you might want to do the honors?”

You nodded wordlessly, a pang of unexpected emotion hitting you as you pressed your wand to the map's center.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The faded, brown ink showed itself as its protection charm was washed away, revealing the nostalgia-inducing inscription scrawled in your respective handwritings:

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs are proud to present: The Marauders Map

“Do Remus and Sirius know you have this?” you asked Harry, who nodded.

“Professor Lupin gave it back to me third year before he left Hogwarts,” he said, “but he never told me anything about it after that.” he seemed deep in thought for a moment before looking up at you. “If everyone else is who I think it is, you're Fangs, right?”

It was your turn to nod now.

“I always wondered, how did you do it?” Harry said, hardly containing his curiosity, and you couldn't help but think how much he looked like James in that moment. “How does it work? What sort of magic did you use? All the secret passageways, how did you find them?”

“Alright, slow down,” you laughed lightly, giving in, “I suppose there's no harm in telling you.”

Harry brightened at that, bounding into the living room and taking a seat on the couch as if to say 'we've got all day,' which you did. It warmed your heart to see him so excited, this was one of the only ways he could get to know his parents— through the stories that remained from the people who loved them. If you could help the picture of his family in his mind become a bit clearer, you would tell him any story he wanted to know. He deserved that much after everything he'd been through.

You took a seat opposite him, still nursing your cup of coffee.

“Well,” you said, “it's a long story, starting with how bad those lot were at keeping secrets. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Run!” James half shouted half laughed as Filch hobbled after the four of them. Sirius nearly bit his tongue trying to keep in his laughter as the Caretaker slung insults and promises of punishment their way, cat ears and a tail freshly sprouted from his body.

“I can't believe we actually did that,” Sirius cackled, keeping easy pace with James.

“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Remus panted, his current body not lending itself well to physical activity. For once he actually wished he was a werewolf right about now.

“I don't know if I can keep up,” Peter wheezed, falling behind.

“Oh come on,” James said, grabbing his sleeve and helping him run, “we can out run a gummy-legged old prat like him.”

“I don't know, he's faster than he looks,” Remus pointed out as Filch rounded the corner behind them.

“Damn,” James cursed under his breath, “we'll lose him if we can make it to the one-eyed-witch passageway.”

“We'll never activate it in time,” Remus countered.

“The hallway behind the third floor tapestry?” Peter suggested.

“No, Filch knows about that one now,” Sirius said.

“Why the hell didn't you bring your cloak?” Remus huffed.

“Well getting caught wasn't supposed to be part of the plan, but someone had to let out a laugh before we could get out!”

“Just save your air and sprint!” Sirius hissed.

The extended run time was starting to catch up to all of them now, and when they'd made a wrong turn to a blocked off corridor they thought they were done for.

“Hey, morons, over here!”

Four heads snapped towards the sound of your whisper, but you were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, one of the light pillars began to shift, revealing a large crack in the wall just big enough for them to fit sideways.

No questions were asked with no time to waste, and the four boys clamored after one another so they could fit inside. Your magic moved the pillar back in place just in time, and you watched from your hiding spot as Filch reached the walled-off passage in surprise, grumbling as he looked around for the culprits behind you. You had to stifle a snicker as his cat ears lowered; was that growling coming from the back of this throat or did you imagine that? Eventually he stumbled off in frustration and you sighed.

“Alright, the coast is clear,” you said.

“Why did you help us?” James rose a brow, that signature shit-eating grin back on his face like it never left, “you haven't fallen in love with me since our truce, have you?”

“Dream on, Potter,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the crevice and smirking as he tumbled to the floor.

“It seems like I'm always saving you nowadays,” you said, stepping out of the wall yourself with the rest of the boys following.

Remus was thoroughly confused, looking pointedly between you and Sirius. He knew you and James were pretty much friends now, but he also noticed that the hostile air that always seemed to be present with you and the elder Black had diminished. He'd even seen you two talking in the halls lately. Sirius gave him a look; he would explain what happened in the forest with Lucius to Remus later. Mostly he didn't want to admit that Remus was right about you not being so bad if he gave you a chance; you had actually been getting on pretty well since that night.

“You do realize it's no fun winning the house cup when you four practically make Gryffindor ineligible every year with all the shit you get up to, right?” you chuckled, “some competition would be nice for a change.”

“We'll see if you're singing the same tune when Quidditch season rolls around,” James said smugly.

“You're right,” you said, squaring up against him, “guess that's a new competition we've got going for us.”

It had recently been announced that you and James had both been selected to play Seeker for your respective houses next year. It was an arrangement that had the whole school talking, your rivalry turned (mostly) friendship now infamous, even if it was a recent occurrence.

“Hold on, how did you know that was there?” Peter asked you, pointing to the moving column, “even we didn't know about it.”

“Oh?” you crossed your arms, “and are you four supposedly some kind of all-knowing secret masters? Because clearly there's things you don't know about yet.”

Sirius slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could retaliate and give away what they've been working on.

“Yes, well, apparently,” he said, ignoring Peter's muffled protests.

You looked at them curiously, all four boys looking suspiciously nervous.

The next day at breakfast, James had brought up the idea of 'hiring' you to help them finish the map.

“I'm telling you, I think we can really make progress with their help,” he pitched, “they clearly know what they're talking about, and we know they can pull a hell of a prank from all the times they've gotten me.”

“How do we know they won't tell anyone?” Peter countered, “I don't know what's up with you, but you're trusting them too fast, James.”

“They're not the type that would tell,” Remus admitted.

“Oh, not you too!” Peter whined.

“I'm just saying, they'll likely appreciate what we've gathered so far and have a fair bit to add,” Lupin insisted, “it could be worth a try if you really want to finish it before we graduate—”

“Finish what?”

The four boys jolted upright, turning to see you and Lily.

“Are you guys okay?” Lily asked, concern written across her features.

“Of course!”

“Never better!”

“Why wouldn't we be?”

Remus just groaned at his friends' panicked answers. This was hopeless.

You and Lily shared a knowing look off the the side.

“Alright, whatever you say. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry laughed heartily,

“Wow, I mean, I know you said they were bad, but that bad?”

“For being expert pranksters who hardly ever managed to get caught, they were remarkably terrible at hiding things,” you said, chuckling along with him, “It didn't take us long to figure out they were up to something, although they seemed to think they were brilliant at covering it up, Remus had to burst their bubble eventually.”

Harry shook his head, smiling fondly and imagining all the scenes in his head as you continued your tale.

“So that was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they were hiding. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year, but we'll get to that part of the story later. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1975   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This tastes awful,” Sirius complained, trying to ignore the plant prodding the under-side of his tongue.

“Well if you were expecting treacle toffee I'm sorry to disappoint,” James rolled his eyes, equally nauseated by the bitter tinge of the Mandrake leaf in his mouth.

“There's no way someone can do this for an entire month,” Peter said, “How do you brush your teeth? What if you accidentally swallow it when you're eating?”

“You three have fun with that,” Remus chuckled, flipping through an old library book and his mouth gratefully leafless.

“How about some gratitude, Moony?” James said, “We're doing this for you.”

“Please, you just want to see if you can turn into a dragon or something,” Lupin chortled, “and you don't actually have to go through with all this. Who knows if this animagus stuff will actually work.”

“Well, a dragon would suit me,” James mused, “but of course we're going to see this through, mate. You know we'd do anything for you.”

Remus smiled to himself, not responding and not needing to. He knew.

“Hey guys,” you grinned, walking up to the Gryffindor table.

Peter gulped suddenly in surprise as you came up behind him, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Shit!” he coughed out, “I-I swallowed it!”

“Your. . . food?” you questioned, glancing over at the boys who all had that same, vaguely panicked look about them.

“Okay, it was funny at first, but you guys have been acting weird since last year and now it's worrying,” you admitted.

The four looked between themselves and came to a sort of silent conclusion. Maybe in this scenario it was better to tell one secret to keep the other. And so, later that night, they told you to meet them after lights out so they could tell you what was really going on. You snuck out of your dorm room and made your way through the secret tunnel to the Gryffindor common room, a route you'd taken plenty of times to mess with James.

You pushed a loose panel of wood open, coming into the warmly lit space through one of the cabinets. You pushed an armchair that was half blocking your path out of the way as you crawled through the space.

“Blimey!” Sirius jumped, “give us a heads up, would you?”

“Sush,” Remus scolded him, “you really don't understand the concept of an inside voice, do you?”

“Alright, well I'm here,” you said, brushing off your robes, “now what's this big secret? This better not be a trick because I've been working on a new hex.”

“Nothing like that,” James assured you, “we've been working on something we think you might be interested in, if you're willing to contribute.”

He stepped to the side so you could see the floor where they'd been huddled around and your eyes widened.

“Merlin,” you said. The red and gold carpet was covered in at least forty different pieces of parchment. Pages upon pages overlapped with each other, each messily detailing a different part and level of the castle in scribbles of smudged ink. “This is. . .”

“The entirety of the Hogwarts castle and surrounding land,” Sirius said proudly, “complete with secret passageways.”

“This is our lives' work, (Y/n),” James said, “be impressed!”

“What impresses me most is how none of you have any sense of scale,” you said, sifting through the papers, “you should really condense this. Kind of hard to make any use of a map if you have to flip to page thirty-three to find the kitchens.”

“Point taken,” Remus said, “it could do with some reorganization.”

“And probably a bigger piece of paper,” you mentioned.

“Right, that. . .”

“That's not all there is to it, though,” Peter said, “Sirius?”

The curly haired boy stepped forward, pressing his wand to the center of the floor.

“Revelare Popularis,”

You watched in wonder as hundreds of names suddenly appeared across the pieces of paper, all students and faculty you recognized. They were scrawled in Sirius' handwriting, as if he'd written them himself.

“This spell shows where everyone in any location on this map is at this very moment,” he said, “It's not exact, and we've been working on variations.”

“So you can plan ahead without getting caught,” you mused, “how'd you learn something as advanced as this, Black?”

“I get around,” Sirius shrugged, unabashedly showing off. Peter rolled his eyes.

“So, the only drawback, of course, is that the spell doesn't work in real time,” Remus said, “so by the time you get where you need to go. . .”

“People will have moved,” James finished, “we're willing to share this little trove of knowledge with you if you're willing to give up all the secret rooms, passages, and hiding places you know.”

“And we thought you may have a solution to our timing problem,” Remus said, “I could tell from our study sessions you quite enjoy learning ahead of your year.”

Your eyes scanned the pages, and you were admittedly impressed. There was ton of stuff on here you had no idea about, but you knew a fair amount was missing as well. It seemed like a fair trade.

“I'm in,” you said.

“What?” Peter blinked, “it was that easy?”

“This is a useful tool you've got,” you said, “I think we can all benefit from it being improved. And now that you mention it, I actually do think I've read about a similar spell to that paper charm. It was in some Gaelic tome in the restricted section on ancient magic. I'm not even sure it used a wand. It was called the Homunculus charm. From what I read it sounded like it acted as a live feed for people in any given location, clan leaders used it to plan ambushes and keep track of citizens. If we could link it to the entire castle. . .”

“We'd be able to see where everyone is—”

“And what they're doing—”

“—At every hour of every day!”

“True, albeit a bit stalkerish,” you quipped, “you let me in on this if I add in what I know, and you got yourself a deal.”

James put out his hand, and as tempted as you were to turn it green or make all the bones in it disappear, you reached out and shook it.

“I do believe this puts us in a formal alliance, Potter,” you said cheekily.

“I believe so,” James smirked.

“Terrifying,” Remus chuckled, “This school won't even know what hit it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” James said with a cheshire grin, “let's steal ourselves a book, shall we?”

Read chapter 6 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @mialupin1

[helliontherapscallion]

Scientia Potentia Est (Adrenaline Junkie Part 10)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: slight PTSD, mentions of death/dying, some description of injury/scars, slight panic attack

Word count: 2,734

(A/N): how are yall liking the story so far? 

You were woken up by the obnoxious chirping of various songbirds right outside your window. Cracking open your heavy eyes, you glanced at the clock on your wall. 7 AM. You only got about an hour of sleep. Great. 

Groaning, you reluctantly left the beckoning warmth of your comfortable blanket cocoon and stretched out your limbs. You stood up and trudged towards your luggage that laid haphazardly in the corner of your childhood room. Awkwardly twisting your body around to take off the sensors attached to your back and sliding off the prosthetic, you put it on your bed. Pulling out a random shirt and pants without giving them any real thought, you shambled off to the bathroom to shower and preen your wing. 

You stood under the warm running water for a while just doing nothing but trying to wake yourself up. The steam drifted idly throughout the room as you stepped out of the shower and finished your morning routine. You still felt dead inside even after your refreshing shower. Is this what Philza felt like in the mornings? Is this what death feels like? Oh wait. You already knew what dying felt like, you’ve died twice already and you had the scars to prove it. 

The scar on the right side of your back remained prominent and very noticable, but it faded slightly around the edges. The other scar that stretched across your cheek and stretched down to your stomach was new. They were red and raised. You remembered how you got them like it was yesterday. You, your brothers, your nephew, and Tubbo were following Eret still celebrating your win. You all completely trusted him, he was your teammate after all. Trusting him was a mistake. It was foolish. That power hungry bastard blew up everything you and your brothers built and worked for. He was a traitor to L’manberg. Everyone present lost a life in the explosion.

You shuddered, remembering the explosion. You remembered the feeling of extreme heat on your skin and the deafening boom that left a ringing in your ears. You remembered laying on the ground several feet away from your brothers’ corpses. You were the last to die that day. Everything hurt as you laid there slowly bleeding out from the deep gash running from under your eye to your midsection. The plumes of smoke floated up towards the sunny sky as everything burned around you. You hoped you would suffocate from smoke inhalation before you would bleed out again. The flames licked at your skin, almost taunting you with your oncoming death. Why couldn’t you have died instantly like everyone else? Why did you always have to die painfully?

A soft knock snapped you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you realized that you were clutching the side of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white. 

“(Y/n), are you in there?” It was Arthur. What was he doing up so early?

You wiped at the tears that had gathered in your eyes and cleared your throat. “Y-yeah buddy. I’ll be out in a second.”

You turned on the water faucet and splashed some cold water in your face. It somewhat worked for the blotchiness and redness, but your eyes were still puffy. You were just going to have to get out of the bathroom and pray that Arthur and Philza won’t notice. You took a deep breath and opened the door. There Arthur stood looking at you happily.

“What’re ya doing up so early bud?”

“My brother said that I’m a morning person.”

Brother?

Despite your confusion, you did your best to grin at him. “Well, early bird, do you wanna help me make breakfast?”

His eyes lit up with excitement and he jumped up and down slightly. “Yes please! I love cooking, Mama and Papa would always let me help!”

Oh, you absolutely hated not knowing something. You needed to have that chat with him as soon as you could. 

You smirked. “C’mon then, lets go get started!”

He sprinted down the hallway and towards the stairs. You felt a slight panic flare up inside of you. “Arthur, please don’t run down the stairs!”

To your great relief, he listened and slowed down to a brisk walking speed. You speedwalked over to him. For someone so little, he was surprisingly fast. By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, he was already in the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, Philza was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. As per usual, he looked like he’d rather go back to sleep. You walked over to the coffee maker and poured yourself a cup, you were going to need it. Philza’s tired eyes followed you as you poured the steaming liquid into your mug.

“Tired?” His voice was raspier and deeper than usual.

“Yeah, didn’t get much sleep last night.” You sipped at the bitter drink before wrinkling your nose and stirring in an ungodly amount of sugar. Sipping it again, you sighed in content. That was much better. 

You walked to the chest and pulled out some bacon strips, eggs, and bread. Setting them on the counter, you turned to Arthur. He was standing on his tiptoes trying to clearly see over the counter. You chuckled, pulling a chair out from the table and dragging it over to him so he could stand on it. 

“Don’t get too excited kid, we have to wash our hands first. Then we can get to the fun part.”

Arthur scrambled over to the sink, pulling his chair along with him. Though he was extremely excited, he actually took the time to properly wash his hands. Once you both were clean, you both got to cooking. You let him scramble the eggs and butter the toast while you did the rest of the work. You didn’t want him to get burned, especially by the bacon grease. 

Cooking was quickly done with Arthur’s help and before you knew it, breakfast was already halfway done. Over the course of eating, Philza was slowly waking up and adding his own input into the conversation. You were hardly paying attention when Arthur asked you a question.

“Hey, (y/n), where’s your wing?” 

“Hm?”

“The fake one.”

Your eyes widened. Shit, you forgot to put it back on after your shower. You suddenly felt every single little touch on your amputated wing. The chair, a light breeze from the open window, the brush of feathers from your complete wing, everything. You felt vulnerable and naked without it on. You felt powerless. 

“Oh, I- must’ve forgot to put it back on again. Excuse me.”

You stood up from your chair, a screech resounding from the legs scratching against the floor. Taking care of your half-eaten breakfast, you tried to hurry up to your room as fast as you could scolding yourself the entire way for being so forgetful. So stupid. 

You locked the door behind you and saw your silver wing laying on your bed staring at you, as if taunting you for leaving it behind. You rushed to put it back on. Though you felt your muscles tense up because of the sudden cool, it felt incredibly relieving to have your wing back on. You felt whole. 

You awkwardly twisted around to fasten the leather belts around the base of your amputated wing and attach the sensors back onto specific spots on your back where your flight muscles were. You put one on your deltoid, one on your trapezius, one on both teres muscles, one on your infraspinatus, and lastly two on your latissimus dorsi muscle. It usually took you at least thirty minutes of testing the prosthetic’s movements and moving the sensors around slightly to get the placement of the sensors exactly correct, so you assumed that breakfast was over and done with ten minutes ago. 

Your wing was finally connected and fully functional, so you left your room in search for Arthur. You eventually found him in the basement in your old workshop looking through your filing cabinet of blueprints. He mustn't have heard you come down the stairs because he didn’t react. He just kept looking through your old papers, pulling a few out and putting them on a nearby crafting table. 

“Arthur?”

He jumped, the paper he was in the middle of pulling out slipped back into its place inside the filing cabinet. He didn’t turn around to face you at first, so you thought that he was just trying to catch his breath from your little scare. Feeling bad, you walked closer and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you. What’re ya doin?”

“I-I’m looking at your old inventions, Philza let me come down here to look at them while he tried to find me more clothes I could wear that fit.”

“Buddy, you should’ve waited until I put my wing back on, I could’ve shown you my prized inventions.”

He looked down to his feet. “I’m sorry (y/n), I just really wanted to see them and you were taking so long. I couldn’t wait.”

You frowned, putting a finger under his chin and making him look at you. You saw guilt darkening his eyes. “Arthur, never say sorry for wanting knowledge. Knowledge is perhaps our greatest weapon against the unknown in the universe. I want you to remember the phrase ‘scientia potentia est’.”

He sniffled. “Scientia… potentia est?”

“Yes, it means ‘knowledge is power’. Knowledge and power are two very… wide subjects, which is why I like the phrase. In a way, it means that you could pull off anything with knowledge. A lot of inventors live by that motto. Personally, it’s a motto that I swear by. Having knowledge gets me out of a lot of sticky situations,” you kindly smiled at him. “Now, do you want me to show you how my prosthetic works? I could even show you the first prototype if you’d like.”

To your delight, the smile that you often saw him wearing quickly returned and he nodded vigorously. You could get used to people wanting to know how your inventions work and why they worked the way that they did. You spent the next two hours explaining and answering questions about your prosthetic. You let him hold and examine your old leather wing. You showed him how the sensors were placed and warned him that if they were even very very slightly off, the wing wouldn’t work right. You even let him craft a sensor with you. 

“So, do you have any interest in being an inventor when you grow up?”

“Yes, I wanna be just like you! You’re like, the bestest inventor ever!”

You took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “Arthur, would you like to become my protégé?”

He scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes in confusion. “Your what?”

You lightly laughed. “Do you know what an apprentice is?” He shook his head. “Well, I want to take you under my wing. Teach you everything I know.”

His eyes comically stretched and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water. If it were possible, you’d imagine stars shining in his eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Naturally. You’re perhaps the most ambitious person I’ve ever met in terms of your goals, and at such a young age too. I’ve never met anybody besides fellow innovators that actually wants to know how my inventions are made. It’s refreshing in a sense. Would you accept me being your mentor?”

“I- yes! Yes, yes! A million, no, a billion times yes! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cheered, squealing with delight and jumping up and down. 

You laughed. “Woah there bud, cool your jets. We have work to do, but first…” you sighed. You really didn’t want to ruin his moment, but you needed to talk to him about this if he were to become your apprentice.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes still wide with excitement. “First what?” “First… we need to talk. About your story, I mean.”

“What do you mean? We are talking.”

“No, not like that. We need to talk about your family. And how you want me to help you with The Warden.”

He visibly deflated, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to change moods so quickly. It was almost unnatural how fast he switched emotions. “Oh… Do we have to?”

“Yes, Arthur. We have to trust each other if we’re gonna work together.”

He shifted on the balls of his feet and fiddled with his thumbs. He looked very anxious to talk about his family.

“If you want, I can show you where I go to relax and think. Would you like that?”

He nodded and wiped at his eyes. You grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. Since Philza was out, you wrote him a little note and put it on the table where he should see it right away if he came back before you two. You grabbed your satchel and filled it with two glass vials of water, a few snacks, and a blanket. Arthur just stared at you confusedly. 

You led him outside and hesitated. Should you ask him if he wanted to fly? It would be a lot faster to get there. “Arthur, would you like to fly there? I know it’s scary, but once you get used to it it’s so much fun!”

He reluctantly nodded, so you bent over and wrapped your arms around him to pick him up. You felt him tense up as you prepped for take off. “Hold on tight, I promise I won’t drop you.”

You pushed yourself off from the ground with a powerful flap of your wings causing Arthur to shriek in surprise. You and Arthur shot into the sky at a moderate speed. When you steadied yourself high above the treeline, you looked down at the boy in your arms. He had his eyes tightly closed and he was shaking slightly. “Arthur, you can open your eyes now.”

You watched as he peeked one of his eyes open and looked at you, you smiled encouragingly at him. “Go ahead, look around.” He observed his surroundings with caution before he opened his other eye. He was looking around in amazement, taking in every single detail from a bird’s eye view. You snorted before redirecting your attention back to flying. You needed to pay attention, especially when you had a passenger that would carry on your legacy after you die. 

The flight went by with Arthur giggling at various mobs below and sometimes pointing out something he thought was interesting to you. Your destination was now several meters ahead of you. Landing, you set Arthur down steadying him when he stumbled a little.

You took out the blanket and spread it across the grassy ground, smoothing it out. You beckoned Arthur to sit down next to you on it and you two overlooked the boundless expanse of the grassy plains. 

“This is where I came up with most of my inventions. It’s where I first tested my prosthetic. There’s where I jumped off.”

“How’d you know it worked?”

“I didn’t before I tested it. Looking back, it was stupid of me to do. Never, ever, do what I did.”

“What if-”

“No what if’s. Consult me before you test out anything dangerous in the future. I mean it, Arthur.”

“But I want to be like you.”

“Trust me kid, you don’t wanna be exactly like me. Besides, you’re you. You’re not (y/n) Minecraft. You’re Arthur Fox. You’re your own person and it’s important for you to understand that. Never let anyone take that away from you.”

He fell silent as he contemplated your words. You assumed that nobody’s ever told him that before, both due to his young age and potential lack of adult figures in his life. 

“Artie, you can tell me about your life when you’re ready. Take as much time as you need, we still have half the day left before we have to start heading back.”

He wordlessly nodded, turning his gaze to stare blankly past the cliff. In the meantime, you would wait patiently until he felt comfortable telling you.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added): 

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@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @laura--444  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter

[anothermicrocosm]

Chapter IV - My Love, When You Dream Them Up

I’m alive! I’m so bad at consistency in general but I was suddenly struck with inspiration so I decided to write a new chapter. I’m hoping I’ll be more consistent from now on so this story can actually progress. Thank you to my two friends (you know who you are!) for bullying me into writing a new chapter, I forgot how much I enjoy it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

x

I hate you.

I hate that you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever laid eyes on. I hate that you know this.

I hate how smart you are. You’re smarter than me and you’re smarter than anyone else I know. I hate the amount of words that are stored in there, in that big, wonderful brain of yours.

I hate your pretentiousness and how you refused to ever say “fuck” when referring to intercourse and only ever used the term “make love”.

I hate your inability to wash dishes.

I hate how you exclusively chew peppermint gum with your mouth agape, loudly. And I hate myself for finding it attractive.

I hate that I feel your absence like a gaping black hole in my chest. I hate that whenever I’m with anyone else, I can’t help but think that it would be better if I were with you.

I hate that you’ve tainted everything I ever shared with you. I can’t listen to “Something” by The Beatles anymore. I just think of the first time you kissed me.

“Do you remember the first time?”

The words resound in my head.

I hate how premeditated that phrase was.

Premeditated - like everything you do. We’re both over-thinkers, except you think about things before, I after. You, wise, me, naive.

You were, of course, referring to the Pulp song. You know it’s my favourite song. Fucker. You fucker. You know the power you have over me, you know you do, so you decided to go on and taint it.

I take my headphones and my phone out of the handy pocket my tailor sewed into my gown. And I play “Something”. And I think of that sunny afternoon spent with you, the one our first kiss took place in. And I think of the song you wrote for me about that day, that glorious, “pulchritudinous” (you un-ironically used that word), picturesque (I’m speaking like you), day.

And I think about how you decided to cover the song with your obtuse metaphors and twist it into being about Arielle. And I hate you even more.

I’m at the café we agreed to meet up in ten minutes early. 12:30 on the dot. We’d met several times after that party and had numerous phone calls. I had officially moved to sunny Los Angeles three months ago and I was immensely grateful for our meetings because it meant I had a friend in that hot, large city I already despised.

In the end, you weren’t able to produce my album because you had to record an album of your own. I wasn’t even disappointed. I was thrilled you even considered it.

“Don’t be late”.

That’s what you ended yesterday’s conversation with. And that’s why I was there half an hour earlier.

You were already there when I arrived.

You smiled at me through big sunglasses and waved me over to the table you chose outside so we could smoke.

As I sat down next to you, I noticed something was different about you. Something had shifted. I later realised what it was, when I got to know you better.

You were nervous. You already knew what was going to happen.

Another example of your overthinking. You had the whole afternoon planned, all of it. Down to the kiss. But you were nervous. I made you nervous. Me.

Honestly, I don’t remember anything about that meeting. I can’t recall what was said. I was too busy drooling over you like a total idiot. I really liked you. A lot.

The only thing I remember was you complimenting the black boots I bought myself for my birthday.

“They’re space cowboy boots. I love them. Very Kubrick-esque”, you said, chuckling.

I had to chuck the boots I so adored in the storage room I rented to put all my tainted belongings in. I just couldn’t have all those things around me. It burnt my heart in ways I couldn’t understand.

The coat I was wearing that day also went in there. And the dress.

“I like your cheetah print coat. Now that I think about it, your whole outfit is straight out of a sixties french filmé. Even your makeup!”, you exclaimed through a cloud of smoke from the cigarette you were holding in between two fingers.

I laughed. “Thank you, although it’s leopard print, not cheetah. For someone who knows so many words, you sure don’t know a lot about fashion”, I teased.

It was a cool yet sunny September afternoon. It was cool enough to keep my coat on, which was wrapped tightly around my black slip dress.

You payed for our lunch despite my arguing and on we went with our adventure. We didn’t stop talking the whole time as we slowly walked, calm and content towards a local record store you knew.

You took me there without my asking because you remembered I kept a collection.

The record store had a secluded listening booth.

We looked through the bins while talking about music and other unimportant things that seem huge in those moments.

I later found out how comfortable you were with me from the start. I thought you were only shy with interviewers since you were funny and charming with me from the start. Until I saw you with other people you were supposed to be close with. I don’t think I ever saw you talk to anyone else the way you talked to me.

You held up a record. A “Something/Come Together” 7” single by The Beatles.

“Let’s listen to this”, you said, cocking your head in the direction of the listening booth.

I sat down in one of the chairs and watched as you put on the record.

I heard the soft drums and the first seven guitar notes of “Something”‘s intro. All of a sudden my palms were sweaty and the room was too small…

…Something in the way she moves…

…You looked over at me and I looked right into the dark galaxy of your eyes. And your mouth, slightly agape as you leaned over…

..Somewhere in her smile she knows…

…I watch you close your eyes as you get closer to me and my chest feels too tight and my stomach flutters. Your mouth is almost at it’s final destination and you slowly put your hand on my thigh…

…You’re asking me will my love grow…

…I feel my face redden as I close my eyes and lean towards you, my mouth in a pout to help you finish your journey…

…I don’t want to leave her now…

…You taste of coffee and cigarettes and faint peppermint gum and of the tuna sandwich you just had for lunch and your lips are soft and I can smell your cologne and your men’s deodorant and fresh shaving foam and the pomade in your hair and the leather of your jacket and the detergent of your shirt and your skin I can smell your skin itself and your hand is on my thigh and your ring is pressing against my soft skin and I’m melting and I know the song is about to end and you’ll pull away from me and I want this moment to last forever and…

…You know I believe and how…

…The last notes of the song play and I look at you and you’re blushing too and I can feel how hot my face is and your hand is still on my thigh and I don’t want to move and I want to stay there in the booth forever staring into your dark, expressive eyes…

There’s a loud knock on the door and a voice tells us to get out.

“Coming!” I yell back at the voice.

You take your hand off my thigh, put the single back in the sleeve, help me up, and open the door for me.

And just like that, the moment is over.

[evafrechette]

It’s a Match

↠ yoongi x jimin | smut | hookup au | 18+ | 3.4K

↠ Summary: Loneliness can make you do questionable things. Like signing up to a dating app to suck the cock of a stranger.

↠ Warnings: deep throating, public blowjobs, cum sharing, kind of a social media au - but not, drunk Yoongi, flirting, masturbation, gagging.

Yoongi never thought he'd be desperate enough to download the app on his phone, but here he was at 11:37 on a Friday night, finger hovering over the install button.

"Ahhh fuck it.."

He clicked and watched as the app downloaded and installed on his phone. He never thought it would get to this point. He'd been single for years. Preferring his own company, he never found it necessary to date. People annoyed him, too loud, too intrusive, too manipulative. So he remained alone. But 4 years is a long time to be on your own and he was starting to grow tired of his own hand. Plus he'd watched evey fucking video there was on his favourite porn site a year ago. That should have been the sign he needed to get laid, but his dumb ass wallowed in misery for another 12 months and that's why he's here now, creating a profile in the hopes of getting fucked this weekend.

A frown formed on Yoongi's face, he had been scrolling through profiles for the last 30 minutes and hadn't matched with anyone. He knew it was because he was being incredibly picky, swiping left on nearly every single profile he'd come across. He wasn't gonna get his dick sucked carrying on like this. He swiped left on a profile of a man in his 40s - already starting to bald, arms wrapped around a girl half his age - when his eyes landed upon the profile of a young man.

Yoongi was intrigued. The man had the prettiest face Yoongi had ever seen, beautiful plush lips pulled into a seductive smile, with his blond bangs hanging over his eyes. Yoongi clicked to view the profile in full, Jimin - the beautiful man's name was Jimin. He used emojis in his profile, which made Yoongi let out a frustrated groan. He hated emojis, too childish. He continued to read the profile and decided that the two of them were too different and even though the man was beautiful he would swipe left, like he had been all night. Maybe it was an accident or maybe Yoongi's subconscious wanted those plush lips around his cock, because instead of swiping left he swiped right.

He put the phone down and got up to make a drink. He shouldn't have a coffee this late, but apparently he was living recklessly tonight. With the steaming hot drink in his hand he climbed back onto his bed. He took a sip of the dark hot liquid when he heard the ding of a notification. He cautiously leaned over and grabbed the phone, swiping away his lock screen. He could see that he had been notified of a match, so he quickly opened the app, curious as to which one of the very small pool of men he'd swiped right on that would like him back. Yoongi could feel his cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't expect to match with the blond with the lips to die for. Not only that, but the man had messaged him too.

Yoongi couldn't tell him the truth, he WAS going to swipe left, what the fuck happened with that anyway.

Yoongi choked on his coffee, Jimin looked like an angel, but an angel wouldn't talk that way. How the hell does he respond to that? Does he even want to respond to that? He placed his coffee on the side table and dragged his hand through his hair. If he didn't take this opportunity his blue balls would actually kill him. Well fuck, his response just made him sound like the world's most pathetic asshole.

Yoongi checked the time, it was quite early in the morning now. The coffee had helped wake him up, but the prospect of meeting with the cute man had him feeling even more awake than what was humanly possible. The two of them talked for the next few hours. Sharing stories of their worst dates, childhood pets, who was more powerful Superman or Ironman and their favourite songs. Yoongi finally said goodnight and put his phone on the charger. They had agreed to met at Jimin's favourite bar the 'Hit List' at 8pm that night. Seventeen hours for Yoongi to work himself up into a worried hot ass mess. Fucking great. And yet as he stared up at the ceiling a small smile broke out on his face.

Yoongi spent his Saturday doing everything he possibly could to distract himself from his date that evening. Was it a date? Do you call meeting some random off the internet to possibly fuck a date? He was too old for this shit. He rearranged his vinyl collection, read a decent chunk of his new book and practiced a few new songs on his guitar. Once the sky had turned a beautiful shade of orange and pink Yoongi knew he had to stop stalling and get his ass ready. He took an extra long shower, debating on whether to do some manscaping (since all the young kids do it these days) before deciding not to. He liked his bush, and if pretty boy wasn't a fan well tough shit for him.

He teamed his black and white shirt with a pair of black jeans ripped at the knee, a leather jacket and finished it off with a few pieces of jewellery. With one last look in the mirror Yoongi slid his phone and wallet into the pocket of his jeans and left his apartment. Just as he stepped into the lift his phone pinged. It was a message from Jimin.

*******************

Jimin is sitting at the bar when Yoongi arrives. He's deep in conversation with the bartender, so Yoongi stands by the entrance awkwardly looking around. It's a nice place, very quiet and intimate. It's dark, a few low hanging lights scattered around and tealight candles sitting in a whisky glass on each table. To his right is a large floor to ceiling window, surrounded by a mix match of old leather chairs. There is a faint smell of smoke in the air. Oddly this smell starts to calm Yoongi down, it reminds him of his grandfather. Okay, now he's nervous again. Thinking of his grandfather at a time like this?

"I'm a fucking mess." he mutters to himself as he walks over to the bar.

"Uhh sorry to interrupt, Jimin right?"

The blond turns his head and smiles, he is really more beautiful in real life Yoongi thinks to himself. He's wearing a black shirt with one too many buttons undone, his hair parted in the middle falling gracefully to each side framing his angelic looking face.

"Mmm that's right and you are?"

Um what?! Fuck, Yoongi knew he made a mistake by coming here. Ahh fuck, why did he have to make that stupid profile? He loved Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2, he could have easily watched it 100 more times.

"Relax cutie, I'm just playing, you should have seen your face," a giggle escaped from Jimin's lips. "Nice to meet you Yoongi." he stood up and extended his hand out to shake. Yoongi quickly wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and returned the handshake. Jimin's hand was engulfed in Yoongi's. He looked down and couldn't help but smile at the scene. Jimin's hands were so petite compared to his. It was a rather lovely sight.

"Order yourself a drink and we'll go sit over there." he pointed to the leather chairs Yoongi has been eyeing up earlier. He ordered an Irish Mule for himself and a Negroni for Jimin. He carried the drinks to the table, while Jimin followed closely behind. A little too close Yoongi thought. He could smell his perfume starting to mix with the smoke smell. It was a delicious combination.

The first half an hour was straight up torture for Yoongi. Even though the two of them had spent the night messaging each other it was different once he was sitting face to face with the most stunning man in all of Seoul. Yoongi avoided eye contact, mumbled and laughed dryly at Jimin's jokes. He was well and truly fucking this entire thing up.

Jimin huffed "You don't have to stick around you know, you can leave whenever you want."

Yep. He had fucked this up.

"Uhh it's not that," Yoongi starts to bite at his thumb nail "Jimin, I'm terrible at this. People stress me the fuck out, I haven't been laid in four years, I don't like leaving my apartment, you are lovely, fantastic even and that's making me even more nervous."

Jimin played with the hoop in his ear while looking directly at Yoongi, he tilted his head to the side "How can I help you relax? I thought we clicked last night?"

They did

"I'm sorry I make you nervous, I can't help it that I'm so cute." Yoongi finally looked into Jimin's eyes and they burst into laughter.

"It's not your fault. Fuck it, I need another drink . . or five that will help." he rolled his eyes before waking back to the bar.

With a few more drinks in him Yoongi was relaxed, he could feel the whiskey warming up his body. The heat in his stomach though, he was sure that was because of the attractive man sitting in front of him. The discomfort had finally vanished and instead a mellowness had fallen over the two.

"I've always liked older men." Jimin purred, his delicate small fingers, adorned with multiple silver rings, brushing against the now half empty glass.

"Aiisshh I'm only two years older than you!" Yoongi huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but you act like you're nearly 60.” Jimin let out a hearty laugh, his eyes turning into crescents, cheeks plump and slightly pink. He slapped the table causing their glasses to shake. Yoongi quickly grabbed his to prevent it from spilling.

"It's not that funny." he didn't want to admit it, but the blond's laugh was hypnotic, he could watch Jimin laugh for hours and never tire of it.

Jimin straightened up, fingers now tracing the rim of the glass "I bet you don't fuck like an old man though."

Yoongi gulped and looked directly into Jimin's brown eyes, gone was the playful light, it was now replaced with desperate firey lust. He knew what the outcome of this date could be, and yet he was still nervous. He could feel his heart starting to race, his breath becoming faster. "Aaahh shit" Yoongi thought to himself as his left hand started to twitch, the blond's smell - a mix of orange blossom and patchouli was becoming overwhelming, he needed to calm down, he'd cum within seconds if he didn't get his shit under control.

"Heh, well I guess you'll find out later huh?"

Jimin reached over and ran his soft fingers over Yoongi's hand, playing with the bracelets that sat around his wrist.

"Why don't I find out now?"

Yoongi's friends love roasting him for his personality change when drunk. All of a sudden the quiet reserved man becomes giggly and loud. Cracking terrible jokes and singing at the top of his lungs. Sober Yoongi would never dare dream of taking a stranger to the bathroom to jerk off. Drunk Yoongi though? Try to stop him.

"Mmm Jiminshi are you sure?”

Jimin giggled at this "You are SO cute" he continued to draw his fingers over Yoongis hands "Of course I'm sure, do you wanna go back to mine? Or we could go to yours if you're more comfortable with that..."

Without thinking Yoongi stood, grabbed the blonds arm and pulled him up. They walked towards the exit, but before descending the stairs they took a left and made their way into the restroom. Once inside Yoongi pushed Jimin against the door and started kissing at his neck. "Fuck! Jimin, there is no way in hell I can wait to get back to my place, I need to feel you now." Yoongi whispered between kisses.

Yoongi leaned down and kissed his exposed chest, thank fuck Jimin had left those top buttons open. They had been torturing Yoongi all night long, but now he was thankful for it. Jimin's skin was so soft and it faintly smelled like cherry blossom lotion but he wanted more. He was desperate for more. Jimin ran his hands through Yoongi's hair and grabbed hard. Small moans escaped his lips, which drew Yoongi even crazier. He undid the buttons on his shirt and stood back. Jimin had the body of a god. Perfectly sculptured, with beautiful brown nipples begging to be sucked on. Who was Yoongi to deny god his wish?

Jimin let out a squeak when Yoongi ran his tongue over his nipples, hungrily licking and sucking at them. His right hand found it's way to the bulge in Jimin's pants and he pressed his palm down onto it. Jimin was now starting to get louder which made Yoongi smirk, he lightly nipped on Jimin's nipple before standing up and leaning in to sloppily kiss Jimin on those perfect, perfect lips, the taste of spice and bitterness still lingering.

"Uuuhhh Hyung, please touch me."

"That's what I'm doing Jimin."

"No you asshole, I want to feel you properly, get my fucking dick out." Yoongi stopped and looked at Jimin, slightly taken back by the tone of his voice. But he just smiled back - a wicked smile.

Yoongi got onto his knees and began undoing the zip of Jimin's pants. He pulled them down to his ankles, he then drew his hands up Jimin's legs, enjoying how smooth they were. He palmed Jimin's cock through his underwear eliciting a moan from the man above him. Yoongi pressed his face into Jimin's clothed cock. He took a deep breath, Jimin smelled wicked, his arousal mixed with body lotion was rousing. He alternated between sucking and licking on the cock trapped behind Calvin Klein underwear. He repeated this action a few more times before finally removing the now very damp briefs.

Jimin wasn't the biggest cock Yoongi had ever seen, but he was thick and absolutely smooth. He stroked his long fingers over his chiseled abs, along Jimin's length and then down to his balls which he cupped in his hand, massaging back and forth. He let go and brought his hand to his mouth, running his tongue over his entire palm. It was so fucking dirty and Jimin shuddered at the sight. He reached back up and gripped Jimin's cock in his now saliva covered hand. He drew his hand up and down at a frantic pace. He was too worked up to go any slower, but Jimin didn't seem to mind by the noises he was making. Oh shit, he was being too loud now. They'd get caught and thrown out or even worse the cops called.

"Shit Jimin, you need to be quiet or someone will hear us.”

“Mmm Yoongi I don't think I can cutie, why do you think I said we should get out of here."

Yoongi huffed and slowed his hand down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jimin's briefs, so he picked them up, stood and shoved them in Jimin's mouth.

"That should shut you up.... Is that okay? I can take them out if you don't like it.”

Jimin shook his head and moaned around the underwear. His mouth was stretched open and drool already starting to pool at the corners. What a fucking beautiful thing to witness. Pleased with himself Yoongi got back on his knees and kissed the tip of Jimin's cock. His tongue played with the slit, circling it before he slowly kissed down each side of his shaft. He then licked the base to tip, never taking his eyes off Jimin's. They both looked so fucked already, pupils blown out, flushed cheeks and lips swollen from the rough kissing earlier.

He started pumping slowly, wanting to tease Jimin a little, the blond was impatient though and bucked his hips into Yoongi's fist, letting him know he wanted and desperately needed it faster. Yoongi let out a small chuckle and started to move his hand at a pace the gorgeous man would enjoy. Muffled moans of pleasure let Yoongi know he had found the magic speed. He continued like this for a few minutes before letting go and taking Jimin's cock in his mouth. Oh he tasted good - of course he did he was perfect in every way why would this be any different? Yoongi hollowed his cheeks as he bobbed up and down on Jimin's length, taking it deep before pulling up and letting go with a 'pop'.

He took hold of Jimin's cock and rubbed his lips all over the head, spreading precum all over his lips and chin. He felt like such a slut, but he was loving every moment of it. Yoongi closed his eyes and slowly buried Jimin's entire cock in his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He moaned around the feeling, this was what he had needed. To feel stuffed by a pretty cock attached to a pretty man. Jimin was squirming above him, his panting and moans muffled by the briefs in his mouth, but there was no doubt he was in ecstasy just like the cock starved brunette. Yoongi felt petite hands fist into his hair and start pulling and pushing trying to take some control of the situation, Yoongi slowed down and allowed Jimin to start fucking into his mouth.

With each of Jimin's thrusts his grunts became louder as he was getting closer to his orgasm. Jimin wasn't the only one getting close, after having practically become a born again virgin, Yoongi's head was dizzy with arousal and he wasn't sure how much longer he would last, his grip on Jimin's thighs tightening, bound to leave light marks the next morning. He closed his eyes and could feel the heat from his stomach rise throughout his body, his muscles tensing as he felt his release. The wet patch in Yoongi's pants made him feel absolutely filthy. He came just from sucking someone's cock? Before he had too much time to start mulling over how much of a slut he is, Jimin spills his load inside Yoongi's hot mouth. He thrusts hard a few times causing the cum to spill out of Yoongi's mouth and dribble down his chin, landing on the floor.

Jimin hisses as he slowly removes himself from Yoongi's mouth, he leans down and Yoongi yanks the underwear out of his mouth before smashing his lips against the blonds. He doesn't care that his mouth is still full of Jimin's cum, he tastes so good he wants him to experience the intoxicating taste too. When their lips part Jimin stands to put his softening cock away. Yoongi stands with him and looks around the room, avoiding eye contact.

"Umm thanks for that, that was .. uhh really good."

Jimin's bewitching smile returns "Yeah, that was amazing cutie can't say I've ever had my underwear shoved into my mouth though, but there is a first time for everything. Come here and I'll treat you good too."

"Well um, no it's okay. Honestly. I may have cum already." he sheepishly replies, still avoiding any damn eye contact.

A small "oh" left his pouty lips "well I'm glad I could have been of assistance."

The two stood awkwardly for a while before Jimin held Yoongi's hand and walked him over to the sink. He made the older man sit on the bench while he cleaned up all the mess he had made. Yoongi's heart couldn't stop beating. There was no need for Jimin to be so nice after what they had just done, but here he was doing something Yoongi actually felt was more intimate than painting the walls of his throat with his cum.

"Ah there ya go, now you can go back into the real world without anyone suspecting a thing.”

They walked outside together in silence, Yoongi had never had a hook up before. Do you crack jokes? Profess your love? Or just act like what happened never did? His mind was a million miles away when soft fingers were suddenly stroking his cheek.

"Please message me anytime you want to see each other again, and I'll be the one doing all the dirty work okay?"

This made Yoongi blush "Yeah okay. Thank you Jimin, truly I had a great night."

And it was the truth, he had so much fun he could relive the moment in his head for the next four years. Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2 wouldn't be needed when the memory of small hands, captivating moans and cum drizzling down his chin was enough to get him hard again. It had been less than 20 minutes. God dammit!