#the cutlery is actually good which confuses me

[doeeyeddyke]

would anyone around here 30+ and working and/or owning a home be willing to sit through a zoom meeting with an undergrad who gets paid like $22 for talking about cutlery. you don't have to buy anything the $22 is for not selling anything. i'm kinda desperate for work but also will not be taking this job if it's not feasible (unpaid 2 days of training nonsense be fr)

[folklaur21]

Never Find Another Like Me

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x fem!gryffindor!reader

Summary: When you and Enzo broke up, you promised him that he'd never find anyone like you. Despite trying to replace you, you are the only one who is on his mind.

Warnings: Flashbacks, use of Y/N, some perspective change (ish), kind of cheating at the end (but not really lol) & Cormac McLaggen is in this fic 🤮🤮🤮

Word Count: 1.8k

Right now, Lorenzo Berkshire was annoyed. No, he was beyond annoyed, he was pissed. There you were, sat at the Gryffindor table with Cormac McLaggen's arms wrapped around your shoulders as you giggled as if he's the funniest person in the world. Which he isn't. Enzo stabbed his bacon very aggressively with his fork and stared at you. How could you have moved on already. Granted, it had been two months since he had broken up with you, but surely you couldn't have found someone as good as him yet. And he couldn't believe the person you had chosen to move on with was the biggest douche in the school. Cormac Bloody McLaggen.

"Enzo, mate, you're spraying scrambled egg everywhere." Theodore Nott grimaced at his friend as he wiped egg from his robes. "What are you even looking- Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." Enzo replied, putting his cutlery down. "How could she have moved on already? It's only been two months."

"To be fair, Enz, you have been out with about ten different girls," Theo shrugged. "Who's to blame her? It looks like you've moved on."

"They didn't mean anything! I was just looking for some relief. A break. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. But you can't get mad at her for doing it too. You broke up with her, remember. This is your fault." Theo remarked as he went back to eating his breakfast.

Theo was right. He had been the one to end things. How stupid he was. Enzo glanced up at you once more, but this time he actually caught your eye. Flustered, he looked down at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork. How could he forget when he lost you?

"What do you mean, Enzo?"

You were quite mad now, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You couldn't believe it, your boyfriend was breaking up with you, and you didn't even understand why.

"It's just... I think we need a break, that's all."

"Enzo, we're not Ross and Rachel. What the hell do you mean by a 'break'?" you ask, your resolve destroyed.

"Who are Ross and Rachel?" Enzo asks, confused.

"They're just characters from a Muggle TV show. It doesn't matter." you shake your head. "Why do we need a break? I know that I'm a handful." You pause for a moment before asking in a small voice. "Am I not good enough for you?"

Enzo sighs. "That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant though, wasn't it."

"Y/N-"

"No. I get it. You're the kind of guy that ladies want. And there's loads of cool chicks out there who aren't me. Trouble always seems to follow me."

"Please, it isn't that you're not good enough for me. Nobody said that. But I don't think we're right together. And, it's not you, it's me."

You roll your eyes. "Don't pull that card with me." You grab your wand off of Lorenzo's desk and take your coat from his bed. "Bye Lorenzo."

As you reach the door and open it, you turn around to face Lorenzo as you leave. "Enzo?"

"Yeah?"

"When it comes to a lover, I promise that you'll never find another like me." With that, you close the door and walk out, out of the Slytherin common room, out of the dungeons, and out of Enzo's life. Forever. Or so you thought.

And now you were here, sat in the Great Hall, talking to your friends whilst your boyfriend had an arm wrapped around you. Your boyfriend who wasn't Enzo. No Y/N, stop. You weren't supposed to be thinking about him. You were over him. People who are over their exes don't think about them.

But you aren't really over him. Not really. McLaggen is an awful person. He's not even funny to make up for it. So you thought one glance at the Slytherin table wouldn't do any harm. Just a look. But when you looked over, you couldn't look away. Until he looked back. Your eyes met. And now, all of a sudden, you wondered why you hadn't tried to ever fix things with the boy who broke your heart.

"Hey babe! Enzo!"

When you heard the name, your head whipped around. You were sat in the courtyard doing your Charms homework, when you saw Lavender Brown run over to Enzo and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her. Ew. What was he doing with her?

"Hello darling. How has your day been?" Enzo said with a charming smile, warm enough to melt chocolate.

"It was good, thank you." Lavender said, giggling hysterically. So uncool. Why was he even with her anyways? He had always said how much he despised her. What had changed?

Enzo wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and the two of them made their way towards where you were sat, by the fountain.

"Hey Y/N!" Lavender chuckled. "How are you?"

"Good," is the only word you can get out before feeling like you want to throw up, grimacing as you say it.

"Well, my boyfriend, and I are going down to the Black Lake? Do you want to join us? You can bring Cormac." Lavender smirked again. It seemed as if she knew how frustrated this made you.

With a forced smile, you manage to say, "No thanks. I'm studying. I hope the two of you have loads of fun." You don't even try to disguise the hint of venom in your voice, glaring up at Lorenzo, who just stares into the distance, seeming to not have noticed your gaze.

"OK then. Bye Y/N. Enjoy studying." Lavender laughs as her and Enzo walk away. As you stare at the back of his head, you suddenly wish you had fought harder to keep Enzo.

"Mate, what's wrong? You've been distracted all lesson, and usually you love Potions." Theo nudges his friend while Snape isn't looking.

"Sorry." Enzo says, snapping out of his mini trance. "Just thinking about stuff."

Snape walked past their desk and to the front, making a comment on todays potion. Amortentia.

"Remember," he drawled, "to get the spelling correct in your notes. Spelling is fun."

Everyone in the class sniggered, trying to disguise it in front of their terrifying professor.

Theo continues his and Enzo's conversation after the class has settled down. "Well, you thinking about stuff is never good. What is it? Did Lavender break up with you?" Theo asks, putting his quill down.

"No. I broke up with her." Enzo says, picking at the corner of his parchment.

"Good. She wasn't right for you anyway. And you always had your tongues down each other's throats. A bit gross if you ask me." Theo shrugs nonchalantly. "Now, if it wasn't that, what's bothering you."

"It's nothing, honestly. Just... thinking about someone." Enzo says, as he looks over at you across the room. You were taking notes on the potion you were studying in your lesson today. Enzo smiled to himself as he watches you lick your lips as you focused on your work.

Theodore follows Enzo's gaze and sighs. "Is it Y/N? Again? Mate, I told you, you broke up with her, too." Theo looks at his friend knowingly. "If you want her back, you have to get her back. Yourself."

"But what is she doesn't want me back? What do I do then?"

"Well, if that happens, then you are back where you are now, but this time you'll be crying to me every night because you know that she doesn't feel the same way anymore." Theodore didn't have to worry about that. He knew you wanted him too. Theo was always there and saw you staring at his best friend, even when Enzo himself didn't notice. You loved Enzo and Enzo loved you. That's how it is. You were perfect for each other. And you just needed to believe it.

You rushed up to the top of the Astronomy Tower, clutching a piece of paper in your trembling hands that you had received at breakfast that morning from a random owl that you didn't recognise. You didn't recognise the handwriting in the note either, but you knew who it was from. Or, at least, who you believed it was from. The note read:

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight. I need to apologise, and I need you to understand why I did what I did. Please don't tell anyone you are going, at least until after you've been. I love you.

The note was probably from Cormac. The two of you had fought the other day about him flirting with other girls, and hadn't spoken for a couple of days. It was probably an apology, out of sight of everyone else. Cormac didn't do apologies. He sat with you in front of people, but wasn't much of a behind-the-scenes boyfriend. You were shocked when you got the note, but thought nothing of it, as Cormac didn't do any public displays of affection.

However, when you reached the top of the stairs, it wasn't Cormac you saw. It was Lorenzo.

"Enzo? You sent me this?" you asked as you held up the note.

"Umm, yeah. I did. I kind of needed to talk to you. About us." Enzo said that a bit sheepishly, and he stares down at his feet.

"Enzo, there is no us. You ended it. And I'm happy now, I'm with Cormac too." You force out a small smile. "I'm happy now." That was a lie. You were happiest when you were with Enzo.

"I want you back, Y/N. I don't think I can live without you." Enzo walks towards you and grabs your hand. You want to pull away, but something in your heart tells you not to. Stupid heart. Always meddling.

"Enzo, we can't. You're with Lavender, I'm with Cormac. And we didn't work the first time. What makes you think we get a second chance?"

"Firstly, I'm not with Lavender anymore. And who cares about Cormac anyway? You don't love him, I can tell. And he had his hands all over a Ravenclaw girl this morning. Sorry." He said the last bit with an ounce of sympathy, but you didn't really care about Cormac right now.

"OK, but that doesn't change things with us." You say, crossing your arms and trying to look angry.

"Look, I know I tend to make it about me. A lot. And you never get just what you see, but I won't ever bore you. And there's a lot of lame guys out there."

"I guess." You sigh. "Remember when we had that fight out in the rain? You ran after me and called my name..."

"I never want to see you walk away. Ever." Enzo wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I love you, Y/N"

"I love you too Enzo." You grab his face and kiss him, forgetting about any of your previous worries now that you had your Enzo back.

A moment later, you pull away and break the kiss. "Enzo?"

"Yeah?"

"I was right," you say with a smirk.

"What do you mean?" Enzo asks, his lips pulling upwards into a quizzical smile.

"I promised that you'd never find another like me!"

P.S. I hope you liked the dividers!! They're basic but I made them lol.

[girlactionfigure]

THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

I woke up today in Jerusalem to the sound of a siren marking Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. The fucking Holocaust. This thing that's there. This thing that every Jewish kid has to learn about far too young. There’s no good age to learn about it. It takes away an innocence whatever age you learn.

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

There is no objective proof of God - but Auschwitz did happen. It’s difficult to remain idealistic about human beings after that. If tales of individual acts of heroism that emerged from the Holocaust are supposed to give us solace and an after-taste of hope, the bigger question is what is it that makes these tales such anomalies?? What is it that prevented every person from being a hero? And why did it happen in the first place?

Visiting Auschwitz ruined part of me. It really did. Even before visiting, all that bullshit ruined part of me. I remember seeing images on TV as a kid and that ain't healthy. To see ghouls hanging on barbed wire. Piles of skeleton and flesh. I don't see how it can't ruin anyone if that's you and your kind they were gunning for. The idea that people murdered you because you were born you. The idea that your fellow countrymen turned round and said: actually you're not one of us. Or turned a blind eye, buttoned up their lips, gazed down in silence and left you to deal with it on your own. It's not like this puts joy in your heart. It puts something in your heart that I can't explain. It puts in your heart the sensation that some people don't want your heart to beat. And that's a confusing feeling for any heart: a nexus of emotions. A paralytic, existential moment. The loneliest heart, scarred by barbed wire and frost.

The fact that I can only trace my family tree back a few generations has always gnawed at me. I can only go back so far and then there's nothing. Just a black hole. Part of my connection with planet earth has been blotted out for good. I've been disinherited of my roots - from knowing the specifics of who I am and where I come from.

A few years back I visited Auschwitz - this massive shithole in Poland. And it's not like this death factory could have been a secret. There's no way. People knew. It's huge. It just goes on and on. And there's something weird about it. And you can't quite figure it out. And then you realise - it's all in colour. It's not in black and white. The images we're used to seeing of Auschwitz are black and white. And as horrific as those images are they provide a safe, historical distance. It appears a bygone world far removed from us. But it's here in colour and it's the same world we inhabit. The same air, the same trees, the same rain falling. And the human beings would have been in colour too, with red blood cells and capillaries and hearts beating like ours. They weren’t creatures from yester-year, they were modern human beings with the same body parts and feelings. And they were murdered by modern human beings who also had the same body parts and who probably loved their children and kissed their partners goodnight.

There's more I could write. I could write about mountains of shoes. I could write about piles of hair. I could write about buttons and cutlery and possessions that emerge from the mud in the rain. I remember having a stupid back and forth in my mind over some buttons I found which I put back into the mud. I had this stupid thought that maybe I should have "liberated" the buttons rather than leave them in that shithole - but then thinking that would be stealing? But would it be stealing if they'd been stolen by scum and were now being "taken back" in a spirit of love and solidarity by someone on their side? “Liberating buttons.” Stupid stuff. Ridiculous thoughts that you can somehow do something correct to rectify what happened here and bring some kind of harmony. In the end I left them. The buttons were stolen and they don't belong to Auschwitz - but they belong to the memory of what happened there - so they can at least continue to speak from the mud to anyone who sees them.

If I'm honest, part of me wishes I hadn't visited the place. I came away angry and it killed any absolute faith I have in human beings. As I say, individual tales of heroism and defiance aren’t enough to justify true optimism. They're a plaster to cover up the deeper sickness of who and what we are as a species. There's something worrying about human beings and our capacity for cruelty. A species whose children pick the wings off flies, combined with a propensity to herd mentality, is dangerous. It should trouble all of us. I don't know how we overcome it, keep it restrained, or collectively channel it toward a universally agreed direction that’s aimed at goodness.

If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.

That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

So. Anyway. It's 5pm. I need a piss. Then I'll probably eat some bread. A siren went off this morning. Just one final thought before I have a wee. I say that any absolute faith I have in human beings is lost. And that's true. Yet every day I experience such joy at existing. I love walking about, talking to people and connecting with souls cut from the same cloth. I like nature and I like looking at things and if I didn't love science so much I'd probably be a new age nut hugging trees and trying to kiss ants. Being alive is the most beautiful thing I've experienced to date.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

The persistant impulse to seek blessings in a world full of curses. The sheer chutzpah of life. The defiance. Not to vanquish the darkness, but to live in spite of the darkness. I can handle a world where Auschwitz took place if I also get to live in a world where there are people I love. I can handle a world where there’s horror if I also get to laugh now and then. And the fact that love, laughter and happiness can blossom in a world where the worst can happen - and has - must count for something. Deep down the impulse to go in search of life’s blessings is within all of us. It’s part of who we are. It’s why we get up each morning. We have to have faith that all will be well even when logic, history and common sense says otherwise. Actually it’s not even a question of faith. We have no choice. I think hope is hardwired into all of us. Deeper than fear. We are a creature that hopes. And sometimes, with the right wind behind us, at the right tide, we make those hopes come true. Sometimes, if you will it, it is no dream.

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

[lovingperfectionsblog]

For What It's Worth - Chapter 5

Max Verstappen x Reader

Chapter 5: Why would you ever get flowers?

Chapter summary: Lando confirms your fears of no one being interested in you and Max learns a hard lesson from Daniel.

Warnings: Swearing. 

Word Count: 3613

Authors note: So, this chapter was weirdly difficult to write, so hopefully the next one is easier and I get it out faster than this one but yeah, inspiration was lacking here. But next chapter is with Carlos and I’m excited to see how Max handles seeing his girl flirt with a Ferrari driver. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Lando was scared. Between the message he had received from Max last night and you now walking up to his table at breakfast, looking like that in a sundress, he knew he was royally fucked and something was going on. 

“This seat taken?” Lando took an embarrassingly long time to answer you, the entire time screaming at himself to keep his eye-line above your neck. 

A second later Lando was stumbling up and out of his chair to grab your own and pull it out for you. His nerves flared up as he stumbled out of his chair in order to pull out your own and they only got worse as you placed your hand on his chest and whispered a thank you with a smile attached that might just be criminal. 

Max was going to kill him. 

Lando, rather ungracefully, made his way back to his own chair and as he sat down, he realised that he had yet to say a single word to you. Which he assumes you had picked up considering the look you were giving him. 

“You look beautiful.” He wished that it hadn’t come out as flirty as it had, but you did and Max wasn’t around, so maybe he could let you know. 

“Oh, thank you, I just threw this on.” Your giggle had Lando blushing. 

“Yeah, well, uhm, no it looks good. Max must love it on you.” You cocked your head and gave him a confused look, no doubt wondering why he had mentioned Max, but Lando wasn’t taking any chances when it came to the girl Max loved. 

“Max isn’t the one I’m hoping to impress.” Lando was fucked. The silence that engulfed the table was palpable. All that could be heard was the clinks from the cutlery and chatter from the neighbouring tables surrounding them. 

“Oh, you're not? Who then? Do I know them?” Another giggle, but his confusion was genuine. Since when weren’t you Max’s girl?

“The driver who got me the beautiful flowers.” Your voice was soft, almost seductive and Lando was missing it all. 

“What fucking driver is stupid enough to get you flowers?” He hadn’t meant it as an insult, but he heard it as soon as it came out his mouth, immediately attempting to explain this without telling you why he had said what he said, “Like, no, not like that, but, it's just, it’s complicated.”

“Oh, so I guess you agree with Max and think the drivers only like pretty girls then.” You were now leaning back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, looking away from Lando in an attempt to hide your hurt. 

“No. Don’t put words in my mouth, I didn’t say you weren’t,”suddenly what you had actually said caught up with him, “Wait, Max said you weren’t pretty?” This conversation was about to take a turn if Max had said that to you. Maybe they were all wrong, maybe he could make a move on you. 

But then what did Max want to talk to him about? 

“It’s not important.” The look in your eyes was murderous. 

“It’s a lot more important than you think.” Silence took a seat at your table once again, a simple stare down happening between you and Lando, both of you trying to understand exactly what was happening in this conversation. 

You were the first to break the silence, “Look, did you send the flowers or not.” Lando had resigned himself to not understanding a goddamn thing in this entire conversation. 

“No, I’m not a fucking idiot.” Once again, it was the wrong thing to say. 

“Why? Is it that awful to think about being with me?” Lando felt himself immediately shaking his head, because no, you were definitely someone more than one driver had thought about being with, himself included, but he couldn’t very well just say that. 

Lando chose to stop and think about his next words carefully, not something he did often. 

“Look, it’s not like that, I just can’t explain it to you.” There was no way you were just going to accept that explanation, it didn’t stop Lando praying that you would. 

“And why not?” Of course you weren’t just going to accept it. 

“Because none of us want to die.” Lando dropped his head, elbows on the table and hands collapsed above his head, he questioned whatever god happened to exist why he had been born with the inability to say the right thing. 

“Why would any of the drivers die because they sent me flowers?” Nothing Lando had said had made any sense throughout this conversation. 

“You keep mentioning these flowers, what are the flowers?” Lando needed to change the direction of this conversation quickly, before he ended up spilling that Max was in love with you. 

“Oh,” finally there was a smile back on your face, “yesterday morning, my favourite flowers with a note was delivered to my room, but it didn’t have a name.” 

“So you’re trying to figure out who sent them?” Max, it was so obviously Max who sent it, how didn’t you know that?

“Yeah, me and Max came up with a list of all the drivers who it might be and so, yeah, I guess I’m just trying to figure it out,” you suddenly looked down again, face red with embarrassment, “but so far it isn’t going so great.” 

“I have a list of questions.” Lando had officially all but forgotten his breakfast, “First, did you just say Max is helping you figure out who sent you flowers?” You simply nodded in return. 

Lando often joked that he thought he was dumb, but he didn’t think he was that dumb, although, trying to piece together whatever was happening here was giving me a headache. 

“Okay, secondly, why isn't it going well?” Your blush deepened. 

“Well, between you and Daniel,” Lando spat out his drink. 

“Daniel?” You nodded as you wiped a few splatters of juice from yourself, slightly disgusted, “You flirted with Daniel? And Max knew about it?” 

“Yeah, of course, Max was super supportive, up until he told me Daniel only went for pretty girls.” All the neighbouring tables turned to look at you and Lando as he burst out laughing. Suddenly this was all starting to make a lot more sense. 

“Okay, okay, and this apparent list?” Lando had swung between terrified of what was happening to desperately needing to be involved in any way he could. 

“Well, the note was definitely from a driver,”  Of course it was, it was from Max, “but it didn’t have a name on it so me and Max came up with a list of drivers it could be.” Lando waved his hand in an attempt to urge you on as he continued to eat his breakfast, “so far, I’ve spoken to you and Daniel.”

“And nothing happened with Daniel right?” Lando needed to know where he stood. 

“Nope, rejected me, was nice about it though, but he did mention it might not be someone I expected, so I think he knows who sent them.” Yeah, so this confirmed it for Lando, Max was the one who had sent them, but why then hadn’t he said anything to you about it. 

“Okay, and the rest of the list?” You shoved a spoonful of muesli in your mouth before you continued, aware that Max would probably be heading down anytime now, so your free time was short. 

“Yeah, so i've checked you and Daniel, next is Carlos,” Lando’s eyebrows shot up, aware of how dangerous this was becoming for Max, “Then Yuki, George, Lewis, Charles and Pierre.”  

“No Max?” You laughed at the question. 

“Max? He’d never be interested in me” Oh, so it suddenly made sense to Lando, you were dumb and blind, no wonder this was so difficult, considering Max was just as dumb, “Although, Daniel did say the exact same thing.” 

“Interesting, and are you even interested in any of us?” The blush on your face indicated yes, so this then threw a spanner in the works, “I’ll take that as a yes, why not go straight to him?” 

“It’s complicated.” It was the only explanation you offered, so Lando had no choice but to accept it. 

“Need help?” He desperately wanted to see the shit show this was going to become. 

You nodded vigorously, “Please! Daniel knows all about it too, so if you maybe hear anything in the paddock, you’ll let me know?” 

“I’ll let you know everything I can.”And there was no way he was allowed to tell you about how Max felt. 

Seriously, how did you not know? 

With that you got up, stating you had to grab some stuff from your room before you headed out to the track,”Oh, when are you going to chat to Carlos?” 

You turned back to Lando, “Well, today? Why waste a perfectly good sundress?” 

Lando beamed at you, thinking he was excited for you and encouraging you to go for it, but in truth, Lando was just excited to see exactly how Max was going to handle all of this, especially when you looked that good. 

Maybe Lando could even out qualify him today?   

Just as Lando turned back to his breakfast, he was faced with both Max and Daniel pulling out chairs of their own, rather aggressively getting comfortable where you had just been. 

“What did she say to you?” Max was the first to speak. 

”Did you send the flowers?” Lando was starting to realise the power he held. 

“Obviously he sent the flowers, now what did she say to you?” Daniel this time. 

“Why didn’t you sign your name?” Lando could physically feel the pain Max was feeling from the sigh that left him. 

“Because he’s an idiot.” Daniel again, although this time with a massive grin, like he was enjoying this just as much as Lando was. 

“But it’s good because she said it’s creepy when your boss hits on you.” Max quickly corrected Daniel. 

“It’s a little different when you’re in love with each other.” Daniel nodded along to Landos comment, both looking at Max, an unspoken ‘I told you so’ floating on the air. 

“Has she said that she likes me?” It was meant to be a re=hetorical question from Max, because no, you hadn’t told anyone if you had feelings for anyone. 

“Well, she blushed when I asked if she was interested in any of the drivers, so there’s that.” Both Max and Daniel sat wide eyed at the information Lando had just casually dropped, seemingly unaware of both the devastation and the hope that simple sentence had held. 

“One of the drivers or one of the drivers on the list?” Daniel was dominating this conversation, Max seemingly too shocked to speak. 

“One of the drivers I presume.” Max was trying to process this information, this could either be really good or really bad for him. He was running through all of the information he had been presented with, vaguely aware that Daniel and Lando were speaking amongst themselves, no doubt thinking Max was a part of the conversation before Daniel startled him back into it, snapping his fingers in order to get his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“Look, maybe that whatsapp group isn’t the worst idea, just me, you and Lando, that way we can keep tabs on things.” Daniel was already making the group as he spoke, a ping coming from the others phone with the notification. 

“Is Lando going to help?” Max felt like his brain wasn’t catching up with what was happening in front of him. 

“Of course I’m going to help.” Lando couldn’t stop smiling at how his weekend was suddenly turning out. 

“You want to see the shit show?”

“I want to see the shit show.” Lando affirmed exactly what Daniel had thought, “but considering I’m close with Carlos and that's who she’s going for next, well, I am a good person to have on your side.” 

“She’s going for Carlos next?” Max had returned to his natural panicked state this weekend, there was no way he could compete against Carlos. 

Oh god, if this is the driver you liked, Max was going to cry. 

“Yep, good old Carlos, with those spanish looks and charm and flirting skill and she’s wearing that sundress,” Lando prattled on as Max became more and more nervous. 

“You want to comment on her in that sundress again?” Max looked deadly and Lando’s smile only got wider. 

“Well, you did call her ugly and she did wear that dress for me.” Both Max and Lando were out of their chairs in seconds, the former chasing the latter as Lando ran away from him through the dining room laughing, Daniel quickly trailing after them. 

Next moment Lando had stopped dead in his tracks, Max shortly behind him as they both came crashing into you as you had re-entered the lobby in an attempt to find Max. 

“Whoa boys, what’s going on?” Lando quickly let go of your arms once you had both straightened, fully aware of Max standing behind him. 

“Nothing, just realised how late we all are, we should probably get going.” Again, Daniel being the voice of reason amongst them all.

 Lando quickly said his goodbyes and made his way back to grab his stuff, but Max barely acknowledged him, keeping his gaze on your arms where Lando had previously held you. 

“Max will meet you at the car now, just give me a second with him won’t you?” Daniel stood behind Max, his own eyes grazing down your body, knowing how much Carlos was going to enjoy this. Him and Max needed to come up with a plan that somehow now involved Lando too. 

“You guys sure everything is okay, you’re acting a little weird?” You eyed the two of them, Daniel smiling away, Max with a scowl on his face, not letting the nerves go. 

“Yeah, just pre-season jitters, we’ll see you at the car.” It wasn’t a question, Daniel was telling you to leave and this all felt like drama you did not want to get involved in, so you turned on your heel to make your way towards the entrance, stopping only momentarily when Max grabbed your bag out your hand, like he always did, always making sure to carry your belongings. You nodded a thank you and then you left, leaving the two drivers to hash out whatever they needed to before the first quali of the season. 

“Did you seriously call her ugly?” Daniel was standing in front of Max now, livid with his friend was an understatement. 

“It’s not what you think it is.” Internally Max was cringing, not wanting to have to explain the full story to Daniel. 

“Then what was it because man, that is not how you get the girl to like you.” Daniel wasn’t budging on this. Max was frustrating him more and more and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be helping him any more beyond this if Max wasn’t even going to try. 

“I might have said that I didn’t think you were interested in her because you only go for pretty girls.” The expression on Daniels face was unreadable. 

“You decided to use me as a way to knock her self esteem down a peg?” Dniels face might have been unreadable, but the tone of his voice indicated something very different. 

“I panicked! It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to, like, fuck, I didn’t mean to.” Daniel wasn’t buying a word Max was saying and he knew it, “I can’t lose her mate.”

“You’re going to if you don’t get your head out of your arse and start treating her fucking better. You understand? And I swear to god, if you use me as a way of insulting her again, Liam is going to be you racing in your place for the rest of the season. I am not the villain here mate, and I refuse to be made into one, you’ve already fulfilled that role.” The words stung, but he was right and everyone knew it, most of all Max. 

_____

“You ready for the first quali of the season?” Max had barely taken his seat in the car before you had started a conversation, your usually chipper self. A mood Max couldn’t reciprocate, not after what had just transpired between him and Daniel. 

“Yeah, it should be good.” His answers were short and clipped, not that you noticed though. 

“So it was a bust with Lando this morning, weirdly said that no driver would ever get me flowers so guess that's another hit to the ego.” You laughed along, hoping it would hide any real hurt you were feeling, but Max could pick it up from a mile away. 

“I didn’t mean you weren’t pretty, you know that right?” It was the first time he had really looked at you this morning and it was a mistake, because you sitting there, he felt his breathing hitch and it was as if he couldn’t peel his eyes away from you even if he tried. 

“I do, you’re too good to me Maxie, plus, you’re definitely a driver who gets me flowers so I guess there's that.” How did you not realise, how were you literally saying it yourself, but it still hadn’t clicked for you. What more was Max meant to do. Other than the obvious of just coming clean. 

“Yeah, I am.” Again, short, clipped, angry, but still you didn’t get it. 

“So, just a heads up, Horner wants a meeting with you first thing when we get to the track, so the second we get there, you need to go to him.” He nodded along, uncharacteristically quiet this morning. 

“Just me?” You snuck a glance at you, and there was that damn blush again. He watched you tuck your hair behind your ears, giving yourself  a moment to think before you replied. 

\

“Yeah, well, I thought that maybe I could go and chat to Carlos if he’s free.” The blush deepend and despite Max thinking earlier that he might potentially be the driver you were interested in, his hopes were suddenly being dashed looking at your response. Was Carlos the one? 

On top of it, if you went and spoke to Carlos first while he was in a meeting, then that gave him no chance to find him first and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake he had with Lando. 

“First thing this morning? Why not give it a little while until I’m done with my meeting? We can find him together?” That was the dumbest idea he had ever come up with  but he couldn’t concentrate between what Daniel had said to him, you sitting next to him in that goddamn red dress, the fact that he was about to lose you to one of his rivals in his sport and now his fucking phone was blowing up with messages and if things didn’t just calm down for a second and stop, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

“You’re getting messages from some group, Max fucked up? Why do you have a group called Max fucked up?” He hadn’t been paying attention to what you were doing and completely missed it when you grabbed his phone, so used to organising his life for him. This action further proved to him just how much he trusted you, how easily you fit into his life. 

When his brain had finally caught up with what you were saying, he realised that this was the group Daniel had just set up, this entire group was about you and him. You could never see what was being said in that group. 

Max lunged towards you, grabbing his phone to prevent you from seeing anymore than you already had, “It’s a joke, a silly joke between me and Daniel, it's nothing to worry about it.” He watched you lift your hands up in defence, showing you were backing off, instead turning to the window, offering Max a moment of privacy as you sensed the urgency in his tone. 

MAX FUCKED UP

BigRicc: Lando, how quickly can you get to Carlos?

NoRizz: I can be at Ferrari the second I get there?

BigRicc: Good, do that, grab Carlos, get him away from the garage and make sure Y/n can’t interrupt you. 

NoRizz: Okay, on it, then what?

BigRicc: Explain it all to him. Tell him what’s going on and tell him he needs to like, reject her, but nicely. 

BigRicc: Can’t have another driver damaging her self esteem. 

NoRizz: Why aren’t you or Max doing this? 

BigRicc: We have meetings. 

BigRicc: I thought you wanted to help? 

NoRizz: No! I do! 

NoRizz: Do I tell him everything?

BigRicc: All of it. 

BigRicc: Like, all of it. 

BigRicc: Full Explanation. 

BigRicc: Especially the parts where Max fucked up. 

NoRizz: Should we add him to the group? 

BigRicc: As soon as you explain it, add him. That way he can keep us updated as the day goes. 

NoRizz: Yes Sir. 

BigRicc: Remember, you have to beat her there, so just, run. 

BigRicc: The fate of this season rests with you Lando. 

NoRizz: Me?? Why me?

BigRicc: You want to race against an angry Verstappen for the rest of the season?

NoRizz: Fuck. 

NoRizz: I’m Running. 

Maxie: Don’t tell him I called her ugly. 

NoRizz: Daniel said all the times you fucked up so... 

BigRicc: Fuck you Max. 

NoRizz: Yeah, fuck you Max. 

Maxie: Yeah, fuck me, 

___________

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 

[sweetpandorabox]

Blood Purity - Draco Malfoy x Female Reader (Part 1)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Synopsis: Keeping your family's Blood Purity and having high values when it comes to Intelligence and wisdom, is a duty and a sacred tradition all your family members of all generations have to follow. Getting sorted into Ravenclaw proving your worth, and following in your ancestor's footsteps, and keeping an Outstanding grade all the way through in Hogwarts kept your parents happy and proud, but not yet joyful. After 7 years of your Hogwarts journey coming to an end, they expect you to marry into a powerful pure-blooded family. As they take matters into their own hands your parents arranged a marriage for you based on a deal, to a boy who came from a powerful and pure-blooded family who you've despised for years.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Story Setting: The story is set in the year the 2000s, 2 years after the Battle of Hogwarts takes place, you and Draco were born in the 80s which would make the two of you around 20 years old in this Fanfiction. (anything in italic and bolded is a flashback scene btw)

Terms 📖:

Y/N - Your name

Y/H/C - Your hair color

Y/E/C - Your eye color

Warnings⚠️: Forced Proximity, Arguments, Bullying, Swearing and Slight Sexual Themes.

A/N: Hey cuties, sorry I've been gone for a while but I'm finally back, I wanted to start writing for Draco Malfoy because I actually love him, he's my 2nd Favorite Harry Potter boy and thought a forced proximity trope would be good and it would fit so well with the life he had in the Harry Potter books, but yeah I hope you enjoy this one I'm not used to writing something with a darker atmosphere and a more mature fanfiction here but I'm trying lol. love you. xx

Word Count: 1,959

The warm fireplace distributes its warm heat throughout the Malfoy Manor's dining hall, saving you from the cool winds of spring outdoors. The sounds of a crackling fire, quiet chatters, and sounds of cutlery being used against the delicate china plates plastered with grey floral designs played harmonically in your ear as you kept your eyes glued down on your plate of food, putting on a somewhat neutral face toying around with the contains you've been served without taking a single bite. "Y/N, at around 11pm tomorrow, you'll have to meet me and Narcissa at Sinclair's Weddings at Diagon Alley, it's for your dress fitting" your mother mentioned with a proud smile peeking through her lips, you raised your head up, and face to your right with a confused look watching your Mother takes a bite of her food, "But Mother, we've only been engaged for two weeks?" you asked with suspense trailing behind your voice, "Oh don't be silly Y/N, you and Draco are perfect for each other, it isn't worth waiting any longer," she replies sharing a smile with Narcissa from across the table as Narcissa did vise versa, "And besides everything has been taken care off, like the official date, venue, the food, the guest. You and Draco will love it" she continued. As silence roams back to the dinner table everyone continues to eat, you take a moment to pause and shift your gaze across the table to the blonde boy, focusing his pair of striking grey eyes solely on his food keeping his mouth shut and his head low.

You watched as he eyed down his food, showing no interest in anyone else taking a mouthful bite. Draco Lucius Malfoy goes far beyond your earliest memories of Hogwarts, known to be a bully and a Slytherin prince he paints a picture of himself as a snob and vile evil person, yet cowardice who enjoys taunting others for his own amusement, he gets anything and everything he wants no matter the circumstances as well. You kept to yourself most of the time during your Hogwarts years as a quiet and reserved Ravenclaw, having friends from all 4 houses and not favoring one over the other, you treated everybody equally, overlooking their blood status despite your family's belief, in 4th year however you've taken fond of Ronald Weasley who came from a pure-blooded yet poor family, you started dating him for 2 years but you don't find it easy in the slightest, as constant tournament form Draco swarms over you and Ron, he'd make snarky comments about you and the blood traitor as he calls him. Regular filthy stares came from Draco if you and Ron would show any amount of affection towards each other, because if it wasn't the harsh/shameful comments or filthy stares, Draco always finds another way to break whatever the two of you had.

"So I take it you'll be coming to my manor tomorrow night, make sure you put on that royal blue slip-on dress you always wear, you know the one with the sweetheart neckline, I find it quite alluring" Draco commented as he circle you with his minions chuckling, giving you a smirk and a playful wink. Ron stares in confusion between the two of you, realizing what had just happened you hold on to Ron's wrist, dragging him away quickly from the trio making sure you master up the dirtiest look you can give to the blonde boy, bumping his shoulder as you walk past fiercely drowning the sounds of wicked laughter behind you down. After the past event, Ron grew suspicious and demanded answers to what Draco meant earlier, not wanting to argue with your then-boyfriend you had no choice but to reveal a secret that nobody else knew about, "Ron, please just listen to me... The Malfoys and The Callahan have always been a close-knit group due to their mutual obsession over blood purity. Malfoy's mother and mine happen to be best of friends ever since their Hogwarts years, we have dinner parties with the Malfoys once every fortnight, that's all he meant by that...and since Christmas break is coming up, Draco and I will be home so it seems to be the perfect opportunity to have one in awhile... that's all I promise," you pleaded with guilt. Learning that information made Ron angry, as he decided to keep himself from you for days after that.

3 days have passed since Ron has last spoken to you, growing tired of his ignorance, you march up to the Slytherin table angrily, you scan the Slytherin table for a bleach-blonde head full of hair, and as you spot him you dash right over "Can I talk to you for a minute?" You ask, crossing your arm in frustration, matching the facial expression you displayed. Draco smirks, wasting no time and trails behind you as he leaves his group of unbothered Slytherins. You both settled outside the quiet hallway, leaving the great hall behind before you converse, "Malfoy, I really don't appreciate the comment you made 3 days ago... I mean, what are you honestly trying to do? Can't you see I'm happy?" you huffed out in frustration looking up at the tall figure, as his grey eyes pierced down at your small frame, he paused taken aback by your frustration before scoffing "What am I trying to do?... What am I trying to do? you're really asking that Callahan? he's a blood traitor. You can do so much better than that filthy Gryffindor... when are you going to realize your family would never accept him for who he is" he commented, without realizing how close he was getting to you, you backed up into the stone-cold wall, keeping eye contact with him, as he rests one of his hand on the wall by your head pinning you down.

Tensions spike up high between the two of you as your body comes closer and closer together. "When are you going to realize that your happiness could be right in front of you this whole time?" Draco blurted leaning his soft face closer to you and tilting his head, your cheek changed its shade into crimson red before you broke eye contact hearing footsteps walking away to your left cutting the tight tension, you watched as your loving boyfriend stormed away from what he'd seen, You panicked as he kept going never to look back at you, "Ron...Ron come back" you pleaded, pushing Draco away from you as you run after the Weasley boy leaving Malfoy on his own. The next day Ron breaks it off with you quick, for the very first time you feel as though you aren't worthy of any happiness as your heartbreak drives you into despair, you miss out on meals, frequently find yourself sobbing, and eventually watch as Ron fell in love with Hermione, from that day on you swore to yourself that you despise and hated Draco Malfoy and you will never change your mind about him. The sudden flashback made you fidgety as you smoothed out your old silky royal blue, slip-on dress. The one you've had since you were a teenager not having grown much physically making it fit you like a glove. After dinner has ended, you join your family in expressing their gratitude for the delicious meal and farewells to the Malfoys, completely ignoring Draco as he seems to do with you anyway. You embrace your future mother-in-law Narcissa warmly as she does vice versa and give your future father-in-law Lucious a firm yet polite smile as he smiles back and nods to show his understanding.

Dobby the house elf clicked his finger towards the grand, wooden double door to open it revealing an exit point for you, and your parents finally departing away from the Malfoy manor as you Apparate back to your own mansion, located not far from your fiancé's, ending the night in a blur as you quickly try and sleep it off in order to mentally prepare yourself for the dress fitting your mother and your mother in law has so wonderfully booked and plan. After the battle of Hogwarts took place in 1998 you went back to Hogwarts to finish your 7th year around the same time as Hermione Granger did, making sure you have all the qualifications needed to find the best job that the Wizarding World offers, even if a job isn't necessary for you to have because of the amount money your family has inherited over generations. During the battle of Hogwarts, you weren't actually present at all, since Narcissa warns your mother about the secret attack and plans that the Dark Lord schemes for Potter and how dangerous this war is, so she advised your mother to keep you home and not let you return for your 7th year, and although Narcissa isn't supportive of the Dark Lord at all she is supportive of her Husband and Son, so she has to be present there, but it doesn't mean she can't warn her best friend, your mother, and her family to stay safe and not partake in the war whatsoever and to let it pass you. So that's what your mother and father agreed on doing, keeping you home after explaining the circumstances to you.

Your eyes started to glimmer as salty tears started to fog up your vision, you were distraught by the news and realized that the people you care about over at Hogwarts like your friends and some of the professors who had made a real impact on you might potentially lose their lives over this war. You wanted to help badly, you wanted to be there to protect the ones you care about, but your parents will never allow it as they fear the worst and might end up losing their one and only child, so you slump and cry over it for days in your grand mansion until you've heard the news a week later that most people have survived the war including the Malfoy's and that the Dark Lord was finally conquered. It took a while, but Hogwarts was rebuilt soon after that, and once September rolled back around Hogwarts was ready to bring in young witches and wizards who were ready to embark on their early education, and even welcome those who were not able to finish their last year back with open arms. You studied hard and kept very much focused on all your classes to the point where your NEWT marks show only Outstanding grades all across, simply showering your parents with great pride and joy to have you as their daughter. This time around you sort of hated the idea of leaving school after graduating, Hogwarts was a nicer and much simpler place without some knucklehead like Draco Malfoy running around taunting people or trying to pull your pisser almost every day to annoy and ruin your schooling experience.

You enjoyed your time at Hogwarts without him, but you do tend to wonder if he was alright, or how he's doing or coping after the war. Your mother and father haven't gotten in touch with the Malfoy for a couple of months now as they went into hiding in their own mansion and kept quiet to themselves, laying low in order to keep them from trouble with the Ministry as they potentially find out the ties that the Malfoy family had with the Dark Lord, so for a while, there weren't many connections between the Callahan's and the Malfoy's, a period of time where you enjoyed life as it is because the one person you truly despise and hated is gone from your life, just like you wanted it too.

Taglist : @igncrantbliss @milivanili99 @nighttimemoonlover @el-de-phi

!Click here for part 2!

[strwberri-milk]

Could I request Kaeya and his s/o feeding each other food she made for him?

just wanted to do a quick little drabble!!

One of your love languages just so happened to be acts of service, and something you happened to enjoy doing was cooking for Kaeya. You’re both thankful for it because Kaeya is too sweet to skip his meals if you’re the one cooking them for him which means he actually eats during work when he would normally be skipping meals until he gets home.

Today, the two of you were able to actually spend some time together, Kaeya helping you make dinner since he came home early for dinner for once. He wasn’t sure what you were cooking but all he knew is that it smelled great, trying to steal a bite much to your chagrin.

“Kaeya! Stop it!”

He simply laughs in response, continuing with his shenanigans as you try to chase him around the kitchen.

“It tastes so good! You expect me to wait?!”

You end up forcing him to sit down, putting a completed helping of dinner between the two of you. He gives you a confused look as you join him from across the table, picking up a set of cutlery and bringing a spoonful up to his mouth.

“I did expect you to wait but with how impatient you are it’s clear to me I need to feed you myself.”

He detects the playful tone in your voice and leans in for you to feed him, returning the favour when you look ready to take a bite yourself.

It’s these moments that Kaeya’s glad he’s here for, never thinking that this little happiness bubbling in his chest was something he’d be able to experience. Here, feeding you with teasing quips and taking bites off your spoon feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be and he’d do anything he could to protect this quiet moment that existed just for you two.

[balkanradfem]

I had a fun experience at the second-hand market last week!

Our second hand market is a congregation of vendors on an empty parking lot, it happens on a specific day of the week. About 40-60 vendors put all of their goods on big pieces of tarp, and then customers can walk around, pick what they like and ask for prices. There's old tools, cutlery, tons of clothing, baskets, pottery, books, electronics, shoes, instruments, anything you could imagine. Haggling is expected and encouraged.

I will sometimes seek a specific object on this market for weeks or even months, until someone has it in their inventory, and is willing to sell it for a normal price. For example, it took me about 5 months to find a good walnut opener, but in the end I got one for a single euro, and it's perfect. This time, I was looking for an awl, and a computer mouse.

Awl is a shoe-making tool, and I've been looking for one for months. I've seen several instructive videos on shoe making, specifically shoe making in the old days without modern technology, and I've wanted to make my own shoes so badly, and also mend the shoes that have fallen apart. I've managed to fix one pair of summer shoes after watching just two videos; it made me dream about how far I could go if I had an awl. Awl is a sharp needle, thicker than regular sewing needles, with a holder; it's used to punch trough leather so you could sew it. This tool is very old, and I've been hoping that someone on the second-hand market might still have one. But week after week, no luck. I've been asking people who had lots of tools on display, if they had an awl, or even knew what it was, and they all knew of it, but didn't have one.

This time, I was more focused on getting a computer mouse; my wrists and the back of my palms have started hurting very badly from overuse of a laptop touchpad, and it felt very much like the beginning of a carpal tunnel syndrome. I figured this pain might get better if I tried using a mouse instead! But mouses felt expensive to me (person who doesn't buy anything), so I wanted one that was cheap and used. But how would I know if it actually worked, if I got it on the second-hand market? I could potentially buy something worthless and only know it once I get home. So I hatched up a plan.

I would bring my laptop, in a bag, on sleep mode so I could have it running in a second. When I find a mouse, I'd ask the vendor the price first (if I chat about it for a while, they might increase the price), and after knowing the price, whether it works. At this point, if the price is 2 euros or less, I would ask if I could 'try it out', and if they said yes, I'd open up my laptop and plug the mouse in. If it works, I have a functional mouse to bring home, for an acceptable price. With this plan, and my laptop in a bag, I approached the market.

I was going around looking for a mouse, but still eyed the displays of old tools. I located 2 vendors selling mice, no awl anywhere. Still as I was passing one vendor, who was selling tools like pliers, screwdrivers, hammers, and so on, he greeted and asked if I needed help. So I looked at him and asked 'Do you have an awl?'. He said no. I thanked him and turned away. 'Wait', he said. 'I actually might have one.' His display did not have one, so I looked at him with confusion.

The guy walked over to his car, from which he procured a bucket filled with tools. He started pulling stuff out of the bucket, throwing it on the parking lot, and this lasted for a hot minute, until finally, from the bottom of the bucket, he procured ... I think the worst awl that ever lived in the world. He handed it to me, and I was mesmerized, that was the first awl I've seen in real life! But it was covered in gross-looking layered dried paint, dull, not correctly centered in the holder, and a bit ajar. I frowned and mentioned how it needs to be cleaned, and sharpened, to which he explained that he used it for opening buckets of paint. I was horrified. Crime in my eyes. But still, a real life awl! He said I could sharpen it with some sandpaper. I asked how much he was asking for it. 3 euro, he said. I offered him one. He accepted.

Then, to my biggest shock, he pulled out a crochet needle from the bucket! I am not joking, I was tempted to hell and back to buy that needle, I don't have one, and it was beautiful and perfect, but it was also, the tiniest crochet needle existing. Imagine a normal sewing needle, with a hooked ending, it was that small! It was size zero. I knew I wouldn't try to crochet with yarn that tiny, so I restrained myself, explained that even though I need one, this one is far too tiny for me. I'm still thinking about that crochet needle though.

Extremely happy to finally get my hands on an awl, no matter in what kind of shape it was, I went on to try my luck with the mouse vendors. I first went to one I knew was extremely cheap, and his pile of electronics was horrifying, just 30 different cables all tangled together, but I spotted a few mouse-shaped objects underneath. I crouched and untangled a mouse that was dusty, but had a nice cable, and maybe worked. I asked the price; it was 1 euro. Then I asked if it works, the answer was 'I don't know'. I asked if I could try it, and he was happy to let me try. I opened up my laptop, and the mouse moved, but in a weird, distorted way. It was throwing a tantrum on my desktop. The guy still wanted to sell it to me and attempted to convince me that there's a setting in windows that corrects this behaviour, but I thanked him and moved on. He kept talking at me as I was leaving, saying 'I have 20 mice at home!'. I didn't reply.

I crouched at the next cable infested pile, and pulled out a mouse that looked way better. I asked the vendor for a price – it was 1 euro for this one too. I asked whether it worked, and the vendor promised it did. When I asked if I could test it, he was confused, told me to just return it if it didn't work. I explained I could test it in a second, and it would be a big hassle to come back just because of this. Then he realized I had a laptop with me, and watched me plug it in. This one was perfect. Smooth and responsive. I had my mouse.

I paid 1 euro for it, and went on my merry way! It felt incredible to get both of my desired items on one visit, that kind of thing never happened before, and the mouse was even cheaper than expected. My hand does hurt less with the use of a mouse, and I haven't tried my hand at restoring the awl yet, but it's on my mind all the time, I'm going to make my own shoes and I have the means to do it.

Here are my two objects, isn't it funny that I had to haggle to get the awl at a low price, but the mouse was just immediately that cheap? I'm trying to figure out if it's just the market's economics at play, or maybe the awl just is more valuable. If it works well, it will last me for a lifetime, while the mouse is likely to work for a few years and then call it a day.

[consumeroflemoans]

So some more small stuff for the lighthouse AU, on an unrelated note I've also been considering giving myself an anon name considering my insistence on announcing myself along with the amount of asks I send in

Vil comes to in a tub of water looking up at the weirdest looking eighteen year old he's ever seen staring at him with all the subtlety of a screaming sperm whale

As mentioned when first meeting they did not get along, Vil was downright personally offended by Idias lack of effort and readiness to just give up, when he asked the guy who's supposed to keep everyone safe, who's supposed to be a wall between the inhabitants of the very waters he lives in and that which craves to invade them how to get out he was laughed at!

Idia cannot stand how much of a fuss Vil is making, like it's such a big deal to be trapped here, he's been doing it since he was like four feet tall and He's Fine and he just can't shake off the bitterness of having to endure this shit for longer after thinking that maybe, just maybe something could work out

But when you forcefully live together you're bound to see each other a lot, though Idia tries to spend as much time upstairs as possible because it's not like Vil could go there and Vil has definetly splashed Idia with the water in his tub at least once

In that regard I also think that as soon as they would start actually getting closer and being friendly with each other Idia would be constantly overthinking everything, you have to remember Idia hasn't even seen a living persons face in eight years, if your only exposure to what interaction is supposed to be like are the story books you took with you when you were ten, whatever writings the former keepers of the lighthouse left you with, believe me they weren't any more well-adjusted, and whatever the ghosts of the shipwrecked scream at you, while he's fully expecting for everything to go completly wrong, he's also... Eager he thinks, kind of excited he thinks, he hasn't felt that in a good while

So he's really intent on not fucking it up, takes out his most well loved books and scrunges up whatever melancholic reflection on past love he can get out of the diaries and the ghosts wailing and writes himself up a list of Things-That-Vil-Will-Definetly-Like, needless to say Vil is very confused

Vil doesn't have much knowledge on what happens above sea, there's a reason merfolk is only seen in myths and fables on land, but he tries to fill in Idia as best has he can on any major changes and advances made while he was absent and lets him compare what his books say with his own experiences

The whole tower is filled with tinkering and little knick knacks made out of whatever Idia could get his hands on while bored, Vil is fascinated, there's at least one of those incredibly elaborate marble runs set up throughout the tower though it's started catching dust by now, Vil specifically takes a liking to a small metal crafted merman Idia made out of some of the cutlery in his second year there, it used to be part of a lovingly made mobile (I'm not sure about that translation so I'm adding a description: One of those things you hang up and they have stuff hanging from them) with little figures of everything he wanted to see and everything he misses, with the sticks being made out of the wood from his and Orthos boat, that he used to stare at, it's long been stuffed into a drawer and the string has come loose, the metal has rusted, as Vil leaves it is with it clasped in his hands

Giving the symbol of your lost hope to the person you believe in more than anyone, who has made you believe more than anyone and such

When he looks around he notices something odd about the ceiling as well, someone drew on it, little dots of ink, some are connected, but they're smudged like someone tried to remove them and then he recognises that they're stars

The area around the lighthouse is an odd thing, the sky never seems to be visible, it's always equally dark and equally empty as if something had swallowed up every heavenly body or the universe itself was too scared to look upon these waters

Also great to hear the enthusiasm about the sea monsters, I always love when I can put some kind of creature into something, in the last ask I tried to imply that the place they're trapped in has something very wrong with it, what I was imagening was that the monsters do not evolve to fit the area they're in, but the very space and reality around them warps to fit itself to them ever so slowly, shifting the laws of nature which is also why the lighthouse keeper gets progressively more fucked up and non-human looking the longer he does his job

At some point Idia tries his damndest to put his weak noodle arms into action and "carries", more accurately drags, Vil all the way up the stairs of the lighthouse while his tail bumps into every step and Idia is wheezing out his breaths until they eventually reach the top and Vil gets to overlook the space they're trapped in for the first time as the light roams over the waves

POV Mer Vil Schoenheit learns what depression is

No but actually I love the thought of Vil and Idia disliking each other at first before getting to know each other. They’re very different people and they’ve had their idealized versions of each other shattered. But they’re stuck together so they have to get along.

Mmmmgm I love the thought of Idia reading books to Vil and explaining the concepts inside of them. Vil may not even be able to read human languages and even if he can, Idia’s not risking water damage on the only source of entertainment he has.

Vil watching Idia, fascinated by all these human concepts is so cute to me.

ALSO I love the thought of Vil being fascinated by little trinkets. The fish brain going oooh shiny.

GIVING THR SYMBOL OF YOUR LOST HOPE TO THE PERSON YOU BELIEVE IN MORE THAN ANYONE. ANON I AM SHAKING YOU SO HARD RN

Oooh damn I love your ideas with the lighthouse itself. The actual water adapting to fit the creatures that inhabit it is fascinating. Mmmgngn this could have some really fun horror aspects to it and man I love me some water based horror.

OMG IM SOBBJNG Idia with his twig arms trying to haul a whole ass fish man up a lighthouse is a hilarious thought. But Vil gets what he wants and that man is seeing the outside.

Man I want them to be happy so much, but also the angst here is too good. They deserve to kiss and also suffer

[esmealux]

Pizza.

Takes place in my roommates au.

“Oh, good, there you are!” Lucifer smiles at her as she comes up from her room. “The pizzas just got here. Or pizze as they say in- wait… where are you going?” His cheerful face falls into a frown as he takes her in. All dressed up with a clutch in her hand, car keys dangling from her fingers.

Chloe looks at the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and the wine glasses waiting to be filled, to the TV, all set-up and ready to play a movie.

Guilt sinks like a heavy stone to her stomach.

“I’m going out with Dan,” she reminds him, looking down at her keys.

Lucifer’s shoulders slump, his confusion turning into obvious, heart-wrenching disappointment. Chloe knows he tries to hide it, but it doesn’t matter; she knows him too well.

“Oh. Right,” he says. “I forgot.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say, although she doesn’t know why. She’s got no reason to apologise for spending the evening with her boyfriend. So why does she feel like she has to?

“It’s all right,” he tries to assure her, but it’s not that convincing. Not when he looks like that, eyes sad and small, lips barely forming a smile.

“We’ll do it another time?” she offers.

His lips twitch just a fraction upwards, but it looks forced. Fake. “Yes. Another time.”

She tries to give him a reassuring smile and nods to the steaming pizzas on the counter. “Will you save me some?”

He smiles, for real this time, although it’s got a melancholic edge to it. “Of course.” He looks down his suit and brushes some invisible lint off his shirt. “You know I’m not that big of a fan, anyway.”

Chloe presses her lips together around a smile, her chest aching with a memory. Of the first time they had pizza together, one of the very first nights she stayed here. She’d just ordered some for herself, thinking Lucifer was eating out (or eating someone out), but then he’d been home, and she’d insisted they share it. He’d been disdainful at first, of how messy and greasy it was, watching her eat with an almost appalled look on his face. She’d asked him if he’d really never had pizza before, to which he’d replied, Yes, but never like that. Then he’d pulled out a fork and knife (from God knows where, because they didn’t have a kitchen then) and Chloe had almost laughed directly into his face. Of course, he’d eat pizza with cutlery. At least until the point she’d made enough fun of him that he’d tried to eat it like a normal person… and then—to Chloe’s amusement and Lucifer’s horror—immediately gotten sauce and cheese on his suit.

So yes, she knows he’s not a big fan of pizza. And yet, he’d still ordered pizza for them tonight. They have pizza pretty often, actually. Or at least… they used to.

Before she left, and came back. Before she started spending her evenings with someone else.

As irony would have it, the place Dan has chosen for them is a small, Italian-inspired eatery. Close to work, because he’s coming directly from there, and he’s practical like that. He orders a pizza. Chloe doesn’t. It’s greasy with cheese and pepperoni and not very Italian. It doesn’t seem to bother him.

He just eats it, like a normal person.

[madiwritessin]

Adpting Part 4

Fandom: Shadowhunters

Character/s Included: Alec, Magnus, Reader, Raphael, jace, Clary, Simon, Izzy

Word Count: 1747

Series: Adapting

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

A/N: Triggering Acts are in the next few chapter (SA)

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE AND MENTIONS OF NONCONSENTIAL SEX

After a few hours at the institute investigating what shadowhunters were calling the ultimate downworlder you were starting to get tired. You got up and walked into the infirmary to get some shut eye but Magnus followed.

“We can go home if you like. We can eat some food and talk before you go to bed.” Magnus said with a smile on his face but concern was present in his eyes.

You nodded before he opened the portal. You walked through it. Once in the apartment you walked to the kitchen grabbing out leftovers from the party and heating them up, Magnus was making your bedroom into practically the most secure place in the world where no one could sense you but smell or heartbeat. You placed the now warm food onto two plates placing them on the table. Magnus joined you soon after.

“They will take some of you energy. You understand that right?”

“Yes Magnus I understand just like I understand that it isn’t my fault it happened and that if someone knocks at the door I need to get to my room as soon as possible”

“What really happened out there last night?”

“How do you know what I told you this morning wasn’t the truth?”

“Cause you’re a good fighter you wouldn’t have been pushed a block away from him, you would have killed every one of them. And he seemed just as confused by you being hurt last night.”

“Raphael ran away he got scared and ran. I was left alone with all the demons. I killed the ones I could see which was a lot and I didn’t have a pull out weapon. Izzy didn’t explain the belt to me. I only guessed it was a weapon because it didn’t really suit it. Once they were dead I have a fair few scratches on me but I had my stele with me and healed myself. I didn’t see the bigger human like demon come towards me but it hit me and my stele fell out of reach and the belt was back on. I was pushed back onto the concrete. I was immobilised and I couldn’t scream cause of the shock or something I don’t know. When I came to Raphael was back and got it off me and he pushed my stele to me and I healed as much as I could but I healed enough to send the sword flying into the demons chest. I passed out after that but it seems Raphael brought me here since I woke up in my bed looking like this.”

They ate the rest of their dinner in silence. You cleaned up your plate before grabbing a blanket out of the linin cupboard and sitting on the couch to watch a movie. About half way through the movie you heard Magnus yelling.

“You were meant to protect her” he was quiet for a few minutes you guessed it was due to whoever responding “No she isn’t okay. She’s injured worse than possible because you were bloody protecting her”

You heard a knock at the door and you raced to your room grabbing your mobile on the way. You decided to message Jace.

“Morning guys” Magnus said rather loudly and since you didn’t hear Alec you guessed he was alone. You moved away from Jace grabbing the coffee pot and putting on the dining table before heading back to the kitchen and grabbing mugs and cutlery. You also grabbed the bacon out of Jace’s hands placing it on the table.

“Jace why are you here?” Alec walked out putting his shirt on and kissed Magnus.

“Um… you snuck out and Iz told me to come find you” Jace said

“You’re lying Jace. Why are you actually here?” Alec sounded more serious this time

“Iz rang my last night telling me Jace was coming over to do training since I can’t do it at the institute and Jace is the perfect training partner for me” You sound confidently sitting at the table.

“Oh okay then well let’s eat so you can train” Magnus said sitting down at the table too.

They eat the bacon and eggs before you and Jace got and ‘train’. Between you throwing punches you both talked.

“You know we need to tell them right?” You asked unsure if he did.

“I know we do but we can’t not until we are 100% sure they won’t have noticeable marlock marks” Jace said holding your hands.

“Then a bit after they are born we tell them.” You looked at him in his eyes.

Jace heads out of the room to grab them both a bottle of water. As he reached her door someone was knocking aggressively against the apartment’s front door. Jace placed the bottle inside your door and whispered, “You’re safe in there and I’ll be right out here someone is here.” He then shut your door.

Magnus opens the door and see as very angry Raphael.

“Out Raphael get out” Magnus yelled.

“Where is she?” Raphael yelled back.

“She’s gone. She couldn’t fight the injuries she received and died on her way back here from the institute” Alec said calmly.

“Now out Raphael.” Magnus said grabbing Alec’s hand.

“I smell more angel blood” Raphael looked around the room.

Jace walked out from the hallway “That would be me you can smell now please do what Magnus said and leave”

Raphael leaves and Jace walks back to your room. He opens the door before closing it again. He sat next to you and quietly said “He’s gone.” You rest your head on his shoulder. He runs his fingers in your hair to calm you down.

After a few minutes you walked out and watched a movie with Alec and Magnus.

*Nine Months Later*

You are sitting on the couch waiting for your family to come over. The babies are in their rockers on the living room floor. Jace had called your family over to meet them finally. Magnus, Alec and Izzy walk straight in they are the only other people who knew where you were and they each had a key to your place. Alec and Magnus sat the furthest from you; each had a worried look on their faces since you had just randomly called them telling them to come over ASAP. Izzy sat next to you and Jace. None of them really noticing the rockers on the floor.

“Meet your niece and nephew Alec and Izzy and your adoptive grandchildren Magnus” You said the last part with a slight giggle. Magnus just stared at you. “This one closest to the books is Addilynn and the one near Jace is Theodore.”

Izzy grabs Theo while Alec grabs Addi. Jace looked at you with a serious look which Magnus had caught. “What else is there?” Magnus said look at you all fatherly.

“I well… hmm…” Jace looked at you for help.

“We decided that if there warlock marks aren’t noticeable that we could… That Jace could become there father.” You said the last part rather quickly.

All three had shocked looks on their faces. Izzy was the first to speck up “I’m sorry I think I heard wrong. Jace will become their father if their Warlock marks are concealable? He will actually claim these two babies as his own two babies”

“Yes I’m going to claim them as my children Iz. Is it so hard to believe?”

This conversation went on until the babies started getting hungry. You took Addilynn off of Alec walking to their bedroom, Izzy following. Izzy started asking questions as they bottle feed the babies.

“How long have you known he wanted to do this? I’m guessing you came up with it, he wouldn’t think of it.” Izzy asked.

“When I asked you to get him when we first found out. He actually offered to, I didn’t ask him. He planned this not me, I wouldn’t ask anyone to do this and certainly not him. He had Clary back then.”

“He’s taking a risk”

“I know. He even said he would marry me if he had to.”

“He’s taking a major risk but at least he’s taking everything very seriously. I’m surprised.”

After feeding the babies they put them down. You grab the baby monitor of the clothes chest near the bedroom door. You slowly close it while Izzy joins the others in the living room.  You go into the kitchen and wash the bottles that were just used before starting dinner. Magnus come in about ten minutes later and starts helping make dinner. One of the babies screams through the monitor.

“Jace” You yell.

Jace walks in within seconds putting his arms around you “Yes?”

You point to the baby monitor “One of them is crying.”

“Okay I’m on it” He kisses your cheek before running into the babies’ room.

Alec and Izzy walk in. Alec said “By the angel, he’s acting like a father. What happened to make him like this? We may never know.”

“Just like you wouldn’t have known he walked in here when she called him and put his arms around her waisted and kissed her cheek when he left” Magnus said smiling.

You just walked away and set the table and then walked to Jace who had just got into the hallways. “Magnus saw what you did and told the other.” You said before you two walked out to eat. You all talked about what may happen next.

[artificii-in-ceata]

Fireworks in the Fog

Chapter 2

Christmas dinner

Laurențiu had prepared for this meeting for a long time, thinking and changing his mind about every detail. He eventually decided to wear a green sweater, not having anything more festive than that; he wanted neither to be dressed inappropriately for the occasion, nor did he wish to come in a shirt and tie, as if at work, as it was not a very formal occasion. He bought a chocolate for each of his hosts and headed off. He reached the indicated address, he went to the entrance of the apartment building and searched the number with his eyes: 11. He looked at the list by the intercom: Lazăr, apartment 44. He called and Tiberiu answered. He walked upstairs, the old building not having an elevator. Aside from the usual sights, potted plants and pictures hung on the walls of the hallway, he noticed that every door was decorated. On their floor, the railings had tinsel wrapped around them, and their door was framed by a row of colourful lights. He rang the doorbell.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, too! We're glad you came!" replied Tiberiu, taking the gift bag. "Come in! Make yourself comfortable!"

Laurențiu put his jacket on the hanger and took off his boots.

"Do you want me to bring you some house slippers?"

"There's no need, thanks!"

He immediately regretted that he refused, as he could feel how cold the floor was through his socks, but he was embarrassed to ask again. The entrance hallway had an opening into the kitchen, so he could see Mădălina and Teodora, her older sister, preparing the meals to be placed on the dinner table. He offered to help and carried the pots onto the table.

"You needn't have troubled yourself." said Teodora, trying to be polite. "You are our guest."

"I couldn't not help you! After all, the work is almost done."

Teodora thanked him and went to the living room to set the table with the last plates and cutlery. Mădălina opened the gift bag that Laurențiu brought and smiled playfully:

"How nice of you to bring me three chocolates!"

"Two of them are for your siblings" he smiled too.

"I like your sweater. Did you dress like that on purpose so we can match?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused. "You're wearing red."

"Exactly, we're both wearing the festive colours."

"I though I should be dressed for the occasion. Have you found anything else in that gift bag?"

She lifted the mug on which the following Mark Twain quote was written: "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics". She couldn't help but smile.

"I love it! Thank you very much! Don't forget to check your jacket!"

He checked more closely and, indeed, he found a new metallic pin on his jacket, with the logo of a band the both liked on it. He thanked her and joined her to the living room, where they sat facing each other. One side of the table was facing the sofa, and the other had two chairs. Mădălina seated herself at the side with the chairs, so as to stay with her sister; thus Laurențiu and Tiberiu were sitting on the couch. As opposed to the others, Teodora said a short prayer before starting her meal. Beginning their first meal, they were all conversing naturally, Laurențiu integrating in the group much easier than he had expected.

"Why don't you tell us how you find working at this company?" Tiberiu said, friendly.

"Very good, how else?" Laurențiu replied as if he was expecting it to be a trick question. "What did me the most good was getting to know new people."

Mădălina glanced aside to her sister, as if insinuating something, then told the others:

"We didn't meet here to talk about work, isn't it?"

"Indeed, we came here as a family. By the way, we thank you for your help earlier".

"You're welcome. I was used to getting a lot of guests since I was little; I was trying to help my mom at least a little."

"Did you move to this city recently?"

"No, I've been here for about six years, actually, it's just that I changed my job. I like this city; there are many more opportunities here compared to the place I come from. Especially when it comes to programming, you can find work relatively easily."

"Where do you come from, then?"

"From Bukovina¹, but it's no use getting into details."

"So, you came here to study and stayed?"

Although he knew it was not intentional, Laurențiu was embarrassed by the question and didn't know how to avoid it politely. They continued eating the next meals and discussed on all sorts of topics during the next several hours. Mădălina had tried several times to speak only to Laurențiu, but she was seemingly interrupted each time. He, in his own right, enjoyed their company and wished to be friendly, but was, seemingly at every sentence, faced with an embarrassing detail which he would rather not share. Although he told Mădălina much more than he told the others, she didn't know yet about, for example, how isolated he had been before coming to this job, and for how long. He feared that this would completely change her opinion of him and make him seem like a weirdo. And even during that moment, although he was conversing naturally, he imagined that the others were judging him. At some point, they had to clear the table and he helped the girls again, by carrying the plates.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked Mădălina, worried. "You're pale."

"Pardon? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine... I think I could use a hot drink..."

"Do you want some mulled wine²?"

"Ah, no, I shouldn't; I'm driving. I was thinking of making myself a coffee."

She started washing the dishes, and he was preparing his coffee. After he was finished, he helped her with the chores.

"I'll let you know that I'm very glad you came!" she said.

"Me too, but I'm sorry we didn't get the time to sit and talk to each other. I'm obviously glad that I got to know your folks."

"You made a very good impression on them."

"I did? What a relief!"

"Did you except anything else?"

"For example, I almost gave away the fact that I didn't even go to college..."

"So what? Believe me, you're smarter than many classmates I had. Granted, I was in an economics college, I don't know what the deal with computer studies is, but you get what I'm saying. It's not a shameful thing, but rather impressive that you do your job even more efficiently than some with college degrees."

"Oh my³, thank you very much! This really warmed my heart" he said, giving her a warm look.

She could feel her heart beat harder. She hadn't expected her words to touch him, but she was very glad. As they were about to return to the living room, the situation already seemed more tense. Teodora was frowning at her brother. Mădălina already knew what to expect, and suddenly got angry, afraid that her evening was about to be ruined.

"I told you not to do this" Teodora whispered firmly to Tiberiu, to which he answered aloud:

"It's a special occasion, why are you ruining my fun?"

"It's Christmas, this is just not appropriate..."

Laurențiu looked at Mădălina, confused, as if trying to ask her what that was about, but she turned straight to her brother, staring at him threateningly, as if ready to strangle him.

"I believe you might want to know why you were invited here, Mr. Beniuc" continued Tiberiu. "The last time that Mădălina had a boyfriend, it didn't last long enough for him to get to Christmas, so, you see... it's a big deal!"

Mădălina was trying to snatch something out of his hands, and the others were trying to calm the situation.

"Even more, she was trying to hide from us the fact that she was seeing you! But what a Holiday surprise!"

"Why could it be that I was hiding it from you, you asshole?!! You got yourself hard liquors? Was it not enough that we allowed you to drink mulled wine, because "such is the tradition"?!!" she yelled at him after she managed to grab the bottle from his hand.

"Why are you bullying me?! The point was for us to have a party, wasn't it? And stop taking it so... personally" he was saying incoherently. "You do look good together... after all..."

"Never talk to me ever again, you creep! Teo!!!"

"Tibi, go to sleep, please!" Teodora said helplessly.

"It's barely eleven⁴..." he yawned.

"That's what you say when you have a party with the boys, not when you have the holidays with your sisters. You just found the best moment!" Mădălina said, grabbing his arm.

"Leave me alone..."

"Stop whining⁵!"

"Mădă, stop it, your voice is heard louder than his!"

"Alright, then, do we let him do whatever he wants?!! Does he not upset you at all?!"

"He obviously does" she said, tearing up. "But this doesn't work by force."

"Help me carry him away from here!" she turned to Laurențiu, who didn't know what to do and was overwhelmed by the situation.

The fight lasted some more time, until they realised that Tiberiu was already asleep. It was midnight. Teodora apologised profusely for the present situation, and Mădălina went with Laurențiu on the hallway of that floor, so as to bid each other goodbye. They went outside, in front of the building, heading towards where he parked his motorcycle.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help with anything. I didn't know what the context was, and I didn't want a bigger scandal to come about" he said.

"I apologise, I shouldn't have made you part of this... look, what a boss you have... so magnificent... A well reputed businessman, you see!" she said with biting irony, then she changed her tone again, into a regretful one. "I'm sorry you had to see all of this... But what is done, is done; we cannot turn back time."

"It's not your fault."

"I know... but I feel so... exposed..." she said, holding herself as if she were shivering.

He offered her his jacket.

"I'm not cold! And I don't need you to pity me!" she said firmly, then turned her back to him.

She crouched and started crying. What she feared the most has happened. If he wanted to make a fool out of her, why not pick another day?! After she calmed down a little, she noticed that Laurențiu was still beside her, and she felt like crying again just by seeing him.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Yes. Thank you with all my heart that you stayed with me."

"Know that I was glad I came, after all."

"Me too. It's late for you, too. We'll see each other soon!"

"Goodnight, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" she whispered as she felt a bitter tear fall down her cheek.

___________

Translation notes:

1. Bukovina is a historical region that covered modern day Northeastern Romania and South Ukraine. For Romania specifically, this has the connotation of being an extremely conservative region.

2. Mulled wine (in Romanian "vin fiert", literally boiled wine) is treated as a traditional Christmas drink in Romania

3. Oh my! ("Ioi"). A very specific interjection used primarily in Transylvania; likely a borrowing from Hungarian

4. Eleven: the form he used (unşpe) is the informal one (the formal being unsprezece)

5. Literally: whining like a cat

[sbeep]

The Kiss at the End

Fiction ft my dragonborn, Talos Stormshield, in which his life is about to change. This story begins before the events of TES: V and will weave throughout it.

Act I, How to Build a Home In Skyrim

Act II, Unbound Part 1

The Road to Helgen 

Tal tried his best not to wear his scepticism too plainly on his face. He squinted at the letter, handwritten in elegant breton style and stamped with some sort of guild seal that could have been anything at all. A blooming rose, perhaps? A lily. 

"So you can't milk a cow?" he confirmed to the woman sitting across from him. The Bannered Mare was busy as usual, but somehow half the tavern managed to turn their eyes to her. Some stole glances and some stared slack-jawed, but she commanded attention either way. 

"No," she said brightly.

She grinned broadly, full lips and a beaming expression on her plump cheeks lighting up the inn hall all the more. "To be honest, I've never tried." 

"It's not that hard to learn, I suppose," Tal muttered. He kept his eyes on the paper and on her dazzling smile. If he let his gaze go anywhere else, it would drift to the low, wide cut of her dress that framed her arrestingly full bosom. Her skin was peachy and looked soft to the touch, as most voluptuous women did. Tal swallowed quickly. 

"I am a quick learner," the breton woman purred, and winked across the table at the blacksmith. 

"That's good," Tal said, staring at the papers in confusion and missing the gesture entirely. "Though there's not all that much to pick up, I really just need someone to mind the house, milk the cow and keep an eye on my grandfather. It shouldn't be more than a week at the very most." 

The woman's cheeks puffed out in a little huff but she kept her posture, readjusting her dress and wiggling in her seat to the delight of half the onlookers. He scanned the letters and motion at the edge of the table drew his eye. A glint of light. He frowned.

"I'll pay you at the end of the week and the house is comfortable," Tal said and looked up again at last. "I don't own anything particularly valuable but you're welcome to take any silverware you find." 

"Excuse me?" she gasped with a perfectly round expression of offense. She crossed her legs and leaned back. 

"I was looking down to see if you'd actually listed what your trade is," Tal explained quietly. Almost apologetically. "Could you put the knife back? Hulda will happily parade thieves through the town if she catches them." 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The words were spoken flawlessly with just the right amount of indignation. Her smile began to give her away, though. 

"They're not silver, besides. They're steel," Tal whispered. 

"How do you know?" The breton leaned in again. He cursed himself for catching the view straight down between her breasts to where a coin purse lay nestled. She pursed her lips to keep from laughing. 

"I made the cutlery here," he revealed. 

She broke into a laugh that was like music, hearty and warm. The breton clapped with delight and reached down to her side, pulling apart the gap in her dress to fetch the knife back out. She set it back on the table with a thump and let her giggles carry on. 

They met eyes and Tal tried not to let his cheeks grow warm under her silken scrutiny. He took the chance to get her measure as much as she was taking his. He had met a fair few bretons, but none with ears so tapered or smile so bewitching. Despite already making the joke, Tal wondered if he would mind at all if she were to take everything not nailed down in his house, if only to hear her laugh one more time. 

"If you're not the sort to turn me in, young man, I think we'll do just fine." She gathered her long, golden hair only to flip it all back over her shoulder again. Then she threaded her fingers together and rested her chin upon them. "I'll mind your house and your grandpapa. When do you leave?" 

"That's a relief. I go tomorrow, if the weather holds," Tal exhaled at last and sat back in his chair. He folded up the papers she'd brought- not that they'd helped her case for the job at all- and gave them back to the breton. "Thank you, miss." 

"It'll be no trouble. Old men adore me," she said and flapped her hand dismissively before she took his and shook it. When she met his eye, her look was sharp. "And do call me Nedalla, won't you, I can't bear manners and Misses and such." 

He agreed. Tal paid for their drinks, even though he'd seen her coin purse was much larger than his own, and made a path for her from the table to the door through the starry eyed men and women following her every move. Stepping out of the Bannered Mare, Tal missed a step in surprise. 

"Tal! Perfect, you're my last one." The courier, weary from the day, pressed a letter into his hand. He peered cautiously down at it. There was his name written in a neat, familiar hand. His heart made a bid to escape and leapt in his chest. 

"Good night!" The courier called on his way into the tavern. With the nord motionless, Nedalla politely returned the pleasantries. Then she took Tal by the shoulders and made him carry on down the path. 

"Expecting something good?" She asked curiously as they made their way through town and towards the stables. Nedalla drew her cloak around her. It was summer and Tal had shed his jacket months ago in favour of a short-sleeved tunic, but snows clung to Skyrim all the year round. The breton scrunched herself into her furred collar and looked at him expectantly. 

"Very," Tal croaked. He cleared his throat. "Good, yes. Something good." 

-

Kjarten kept his voice low like he was conspiring with his grandson. Or perhaps more like a mischievous young lad trying not to get caught. He peered through the larder shelves at Tal and rushed out his words. 

"I can't believe you've done this," the old man hissed excitedly. "If ever I doubted you loved me, lad, I don't now. You've given an old man back his vigour!" 

"I've what? " Tal squinted over his shoulder at the nord, balancing a bottle of mead and another of wine in his hand. "Any chance you'll stop talking before you get worse?" 

"None," Kjarten parried. He shuffled along the shelves to keep pace with Tal as the younger nord fetched things for dinner. "We've struck treasure, Tal, treasure! I could never afford a night with her on good day but if you ask her to stay on as a steward permanently then I might be in with–" 

"Grandfather!" Tal hissed and held up his hands full to keep Kjarten quiet. He searched the old man's earnest, excited face. "She is going to be a steward for a while. What are you talking about?"

Kjarten looked at him like he'd been struck by a rock, his white beard wiggling as his mouth opened and closed in confusion. 

"Merciful Kyne, lad, you do know you've brought home a prostitute?" 

The mead bottle slipped as Tal started. Clay shattered on the stone floor and heady golden mead splashed everywhere and on his boots. 

"I'll take that as a no," Kjarten snickered, but made no move to help as Tal hurried to clear up the spill. "Those letters she flashed have the seal of a Dibellan guild. One from Hammerfell, no less. Really lad, you do need to travel."

"The–" Tal clamped his mouth shut. The lily on the seal– a symbol of Dibella, goddess of beauty and pleasure. He should have known, but there was nothing Tal could do to stop his cheeks turning red as a mountain flower. "Well that's not what she's here for. She's here to make sure you don't fall down and die in the stream while I'm in Helgen!" 

"Wishing I would right about now?" Kjarten grinned and didn't bother to contain his filthy giggles.

"Perhaps!" Tal kicked the shards of the bottle aside and resolved not to look his grandfather in the eye. If he did, he'd only start laughing too. "I might poison your wine instead, it'll be faster." 

"True, but then I'd do my deathbed shit in one of your chairs. Pick your battles, lad." Kjarten gave the shelves a pat and the dark, dry jokes had both nords quickly descending to chuckles. 

Tal shook his head and moved back into the hall of the house. The fire in the hearth was crackling gently, a fresh log just dropped on by the breton woman warming herself beside it. 

"All we have is wine," Tal said sheepishly through his smiles, and he heard Kjarten giggle behind him. 

Nedalla didn't seem to mind. Her face was bright and rosy from the warmth of the house. She had shed her furred cloak and now glided around the house in her finely cut gown in some style Tal had never seen before. The cloth was sturdy enough, but its low cut and generous gaps in the skirt seemed ill-suited to Skyrim's cool summer. At least she had donned petticoats underneath to stave off the cold. 

"That suits me," she replied. All three of them sat around the table and she took the wine gently from Tal to begin pouring out the cups. "I took a little look around as you said. Are you sure I can take that room?" 

She gestured gracefully to the room beneath the staircase. Tal followed her eyeline and a few moments passed before he nodded. 

"Yes, that'll be fine." Tal took his cup from the table and lifted it a little and toasted, "Skál."

"Skál!" Kjarten echoed and began to guzzle the rich red vintage as fast as his moustache would allow. 

Nedalla gave the old man a smile and tilted her cup before taking a far more demure sip. "May I ask who usually takes up such a comfortable bed?" 

"It used to be that Tal's man slept there, before he was Tal's man," Kjarten burped out before the young nord could even think of an answer. "Then he moved upstairs with the lad and now it's for guests. Or me, when I drink a little too much wine." 

Tal rolled his eyes when Kjarten winked at the woman and pursed his lips a little. "All true," he confirmed. 

They carried on that way merrily into the evening, Nedalla asking her gentle questions and Kjarten all too eager to answer them truthfully. They asked a few of her as well and listened to the fireside stories she told of the distant west and a land cloaked in sand instead of snow. Nedalla's voice was soothing, like any moment her tale would turn into a lullaby. Kjarten began to drift off easily enough and Tal walked him home to his bed. 

"That letter you received," Nedalla said softly, her arms bundled with her bag and cloak as she headed off to bed. Her head tipped a little curiously, golden hair falling from her shoulder. "Was it from your man?" 

Once, Tal might have braced for judgement or bitterness. Now he put a hand to his pocket where he knew the letter lay unread and he smiled a little foolishly. "Yes." 

Her answering smile was bright and she studied him for a long, quiet moment, her fingers curling in the soft fur of her cloak. "Love looks well on you, Tal."

They bid each other good-night and went their ways, Nedalla to her room and Tal upstairs to his. He readied for bed, blew out all but one candle, and collapsed happily onto the blankets with the letter in hand to open at last. 

The edges of the thick vellum envelope were weathered. There was something black staining them– ash, perhaps. Had Kato ventured back to Morrowind? The last had been dusted with green, the beginnings of moss from the Argonian marshes. Tal steadied his breath at the thought of the dunmer being only one province away now. Travelling closer. 

Kato's handwriting was the same as ever. For two years they'd done this dance. Weeks together, weeks apart. Tal's mind raced as he peeled open the wax seal stamped with the dunmer's ashlander sigil. So far, Kato had managed to return home for both birthdays Tal had marked. It was Last Seed now and just a few months away. How fast could one man travel over ash and mountains? 

Tal pulled the letter from the vellum and unfolded it, his head swimming.

Daehla, 

I know this letter is short. I'm saving my stories for home.

I miss the lake. And your grandfather. And you, of course. 

I'll be with you by the seventh month. 

Ohth marik, 

Kato

 Tal found himself grinning as he counted on his fingers to double check. Two weeks. Just a delivery to Helgen, and an impish old man to keep in check between him and Kato. 

He studied the writing on the letter for minutes longer until he knew it was time to save the candle and try to get sleep before the journey tomorrow. Tal doubted he'd get much, if the way his chest felt lighter than air was anything to judge by. He folded the letter and stowed it with the dozens of other in the drawers beside his bed; 

Taking a deep breath, Tal let his longing sigh blow the candle out. 

[girlactionfigure]

THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

I woke up today in Jerusalem to the sound of a siren marking Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. The fucking Holocaust. This thing that's there. This thing that every Jewish kid has to learn about far too young. There’s no good age to learn about it. It takes away an innocence whatever age you learn.

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

There is no objective proof of God - but Auschwitz did happen. It’s difficult to remain idealistic about human beings after that. If tales of individual acts of heroism that emerged from the Holocaust are supposed to give us solace and an after-taste of hope, the bigger question is what is it that makes these tales such anomalies?? What is it that prevented every person from being a hero? And why did it happen in the first place?

Visiting Auschwitz ruined part of me. It really did. Even before visiting, all that bullshit ruined part of me. I remember seeing images on TV as a kid and that ain't healthy. To see ghouls hanging on barbed wire. Piles of skeleton and flesh. I don't see how it can't ruin anyone if that's you and your kind they were gunning for. The idea that people murdered you because you were born you. The idea that your fellow countrymen turned round and said: actually you're not one of us. Or turned a blind eye, buttoned up their lips, gazed down in silence and left you to deal with it on your own. It's not like this puts joy in your heart. It puts something in your heart that I can't explain. It puts in your heart the sensation that some people don't want your heart to beat. And that's a confusing feeling for any heart: a nexus of emotions. A paralytic, existential moment. The loneliest heart, scarred by barbed wire and frost.

The fact that I can only trace my family tree back a few generations has always gnawed at me. I can only go back so far and then there's nothing. Just a black hole. Part of my connection with planet earth has been blotted out for good. I've been disinherited of my roots - from knowing the specifics of who I am and where I come from.

A few years back I visited Auschwitz - this massive shithole in Poland. And it's not like this death factory could have been a secret. There's no way. People knew. It's huge. It just goes on and on. And there's something weird about it. And you can't quite figure it out. And then you realise - it's all in colour. It's not in black and white. The images we're used to seeing of Auschwitz are black and white. And as horrific as those images are they provide a safe, historical distance. It appears a bygone world far removed from us. But it's here in colour and it's the same world we inhabit. The same air, the same trees, the same rain falling. And the human beings would have been in colour too, with red blood cells and capillaries and hearts beating like ours. They weren’t creatures from yester-year, they were modern human beings with the same body parts and feelings. And they were murdered by modern human beings who also had the same body parts and who probably loved their children and kissed their partners goodnight.

There's more I could write. I could write about mountains of shoes. I could write about piles of hair. I could write about buttons and cutlery and possessions that emerge from the mud in the rain. I remember having a stupid back and forth in my mind over some buttons I found which I put back into the mud. I had this stupid thought that maybe I should have "liberated" the buttons rather than leave them in that shithole - but then thinking that would be stealing? But would it be stealing if they'd been stolen by scum and were now being "taken back" in a spirit of love and solidarity by someone on their side? “Liberating buttons.” Stupid stuff. Ridiculous thoughts that you can somehow do something correct to rectify what happened here and bring some kind of harmony. In the end I left them. The buttons were stolen and they don't belong to Auschwitz - but they belong to the memory of what happened there - so they can at least continue to speak from the mud to anyone who sees them.

If I'm honest, part of me wishes I hadn't visited the place. I came away angry and it killed any absolute faith I have in human beings. As I say, individual tales of heroism and defiance aren’t enough to justify true optimism. They're a plaster to cover up the deeper sickness of who and what we are as a species. There's something worrying about human beings and our capacity for cruelty. A species whose children pick the wings off flies, combined with a propensity to herd mentality, is dangerous. It should trouble all of us. I don't know how we overcome it, keep it restrained, or collectively channel it toward a universally agreed direction that’s aimed at goodness.

If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.

That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

So. Anyway. It's 5pm. I need a piss. Then I'll probably eat some bread. A siren went off this morning. Just one final thought before I have a wee. I say that any absolute faith I have in human beings is lost. And that's true. Yet every day I experience such joy at existing. I love walking about, talking to people and connecting with souls cut from the same cloth. I like nature and I like looking at things and if I didn't love science so much I'd probably be a new age nut hugging trees and trying to kiss ants. Being alive is the most beautiful thing I've experienced to date.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

The persistant impulse to seek blessings in a world full of curses. The sheer chutzpah of life. The defiance. Not to vanquish the darkness, but to live in spite of the darkness. I can handle a world where Auschwitz took place if I also get to live in a world where there are people I love. I can handle a world where there’s horror if I also get to laugh now and then. And the fact that love, laughter and happiness can blossom in a world where the worst can happen - and has - must count for something. Deep down the impulse to go in search of life’s blessings is within all of us. It’s part of who we are. It’s why we get up each morning. We have to have faith that all will be well even when logic, history and common sense says otherwise. Actually it’s not even a question of faith. We have no choice. I think hope is hardwired into all of us. Deeper than fear. We are a creature that hopes. And sometimes, with the right wind behind us, at the right tide, we make those hopes come true. Sometimes, if you will it, it is no dream.

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

[visd3stele]

Can you do a fanfic where post TWK during her exile Judeis on a date Cardan sees gets jealous and decides to “punish” Jude smut of course

'Course, fox :)

thanks sm for the request, I hope it's what you expected 💛

°•▪︎~▪︎•° masterlist ; requests °•▪︎~▪︎•°

TW: smut, hate/angry sex, rough, penetrative (vaginal), oral (m receiving), unprotected (do NOT do it), lack of consent at the beginning (which IS NEVER OK) going to vague/unclear/hinting consent (which still ISN'T good enough), praising (like once or twice), a bit of Cardan's tail (quite innocently), begging and kind of degradation (not really, but idk how to call it and it seemed appropriate to have a warning for it) and orgasm dnial

- think that's all, lmk if I missed anything

A/N: I really, really, wish this went well. It's actually my first time writing smut and I don't know what I'm doing tbh. I hope it's not confusing and that it makes sense lol.

Sorry for the delay, as well, my mental health hasn't been the best these days and I couldn't manage to write one paragraph without deleting it right away...

Bow down, your highness!

"Hello, Jude." That voice. The voice she never thought she'd hear again. A cold timbre running down her spine. Cardan Greenbriar, the High King of Elfhame.

The young king has waltzed his way towards the booth where Jude and stranger were having dinner together after spending a good fifteen minutes at least fuming outside and watching with clenched fists through the windows of the restaurant. Cardan had been sending Jude letters to ask her to return by his side ever since her exile, and all the while she ignored him for mortals. Unacceptable!

"Cardan?" Jude wan on her feet in an instant, fingers itching towards the cutlery on the table. She imagined stabbing the traitorous husband for months on no end and seeing him seemed to be the spark her fury needed to fully ignite. "What do you want?" She hissed.

"So rude of you, Jude. Aren't you going to introduce me?" Cardan fixed her with his dark gaze, obsidian eyes ablaze with anger to match Jude's own. He didn't bother to hide his fae form, pointy ears adorned with silver lined jewels and tail cutting the air behind him, slashing with dangerous force like one of the queen's daggers.

"I think you should leave, dude," Jude's date begun, noticing the effect Cardan had on her. But he ran out of words when he turned and his eyes landed on the tall, lean, otherworldly figure. "What the-" This time the fae boy stopped the speech, waving a hand and freezing everyone for a private chat with his wife.

"Turn them back to normal," Jude threatened.

"So worried for these mortals, Jude. Or is it just this one?" The king pointed with disgust at her date.

"What do you want?"

"You." A simple statement. An easy demeanor. A plain word. But for Jude, it was the oxygen that fueled the fire. She closed the distance between them, stepping thickly and raising her fisted hands ready for a fight.

"Me? ME? You stupid, ignorant, lying bastard! You exiled me in front of the whole court!" She yelled, each word emphasized with a punch. His shoulder, his chest, his arm. Cardan did nothing to stop her, schooling his features to never betray the pain she actually inflicted on him. Except for when Jude tried to get him in the face. He caught her wrist, then, bringing her closer to him.

So close, their bodies were pressed together, chests fighting for dominance with every breath. Cardan's free hand sneaked around Jude's waist, holding her in place with his palm placed tightly on her lower back.

"Let go of me, you-" gasping, Jude's words came to a halt when Cardan's lips captured hers, claiming het mouth ferociously.

"You're my wife, Jude. Shouldn't have forget that," the fae king said when he pulled away, menace lingering in his dry voice. Jude made a face, breaking her hand free and opening her mouth to speak another river of insults. But before she could manage to do that, the strange, yet familiar, scent of magic engulfed her. And with a blink, Jude Duarte found herself back in the royal chambers in Elfhame.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"I thought I'm never to return again," the mortal queen of fairies mused, inhaling deeply to calm down. In a battle it's always better to have a cool, leveled head.

Cardan rolled his eyes. "As if I'd believe you."

She wiped her head to look at him, frowning. "You betrayed me!"

"You did it first! You lied and used me to your own gain."

"And you pushed me around for years, making my life a living hell with your senseless friends."

"I married you in the end," Cardan said and for a moment a glimpse of guilt flashed through his eyes, only to be replaced by hurt and then hatred when Jude scoffed.

"That was a big, fat lie and you know it."

"I cannot lie, as you're aware of. You, on the other hand, can only speak lies."

Jude felt her cheeks heating with the overly well known feeling she always got near Cardan. Though she could never quite name it, it was strong, overwhelming and it clouded her mind in all the wrong times.

"Alright, then, here's a truth for you. I," she marched forward, "hate," her feet stormed over the polished floor, "you!" Jude was now face to face with Cardan again, close enough to wrap her hands around his neck and k...

"Then why can't you keep your distance?" He mocked, leaning closer, his breath brushing the tip of her nose. Jude scoffed and tried to push him, but with a stealth recently discovered in his trainings with the Court of Shadows, Cardan caught her arms, turned them both around and pinned her to the nearest wall.

As much as Jude was better built than the fae king, the latter took her by surprise, heart skipping a beat as the proximity made it impossible to clear her mind. The hungry look in his eyes didn't help either. His pupils dilated so much the line between them and his black irises blurred and almost faded completely.

"What? No more clever words for me, Jude?" His hands traveled to her hips, digging in the cold material of the jeans, keeping her in place. The mortal girl swallowed hard, confused, yet still boiling with the anger of a wounded ego and hurt pride.

Composing herself, Jude brought her head forward, a crack echoing in the room when her forehead hit his chin. "You had a chance, Cardan. Now take me back. Elfhame is no longer worth it." You are no longer worth it, were the words that hanged unspoken.

Cardan pushed her back with renewed force, squeezing her waist and taking one more step in her space. "You're my wife, Jude. Mine!" He empathized his words with another kiss. This time he bit her lower lip, earning a yelp of surprise that parted her mouth. Seizing the opportunity, the king slithered his tongue past her teeth, exploring. With a sound of defiance, Jude tangled her own tongue with his, kissing him back in a type of fight she wasn't used to. But Jude wouldn't yield to Cardan. No matter what they're playing at.

Soon, these thoughts would flee her mind. When the High king would pull apart, sending her a satisfied smirk. When she'd struggle to process it, having his lips pressed to her neck.

Indeed, Cardan now grazed his teeth against the sensitive skin of Jude's throat, licking and biting his way downwards. His mouth attached itself to her collarbone, a tickling sensation spreading through Jude's body. A spasm lightly shook her. Grinning cruelly, Cardan traced the skin of her neck with his nose, stealing taunting kisses until his mouth reached her ear. Nibbling at her lobe, sucking at the skin underneath it, the fae whispered in Jude's ear.

His breath was hot and swift like an unexpected breeze and the mortal queen took her time understanding what he said. "Do you wanted him to do this to you?"

A moan left her lips and her eyes widened in surprise. Cardan chuckled darkly, continuing his attacks on her neck. But this time, his mouth traveled lower. Down inside her decolletage, teasing the warm skin of her breasts. And his hands joined right after, sneaking under her shirt and playing with the keys of her bra. "Is this what you did all these months? Fooling around with that mortal man?"

Jude felt like she was losing, spinning out of control. "And what if I did?" She retorted. "You made it clear I'm not welcomed back, so why not, right?" She wanted to hurt him. And she did, but Cardan wouldn't show it. Not tonight.

He launched his mouth back on hers, kissing and biting and licking, claiming her lips as if he could push back her words like this.

His hands were roaming again, snapping her bra open and lifting it above her breasts underneath the shirt. His long fingers traced their shape tentatively, thumbs circling the hard nipples. He cupped and squeezed, drawing a muffled moan from Jude. When Cardan broke the kiss for air, he used the time to toss away the shirt and the bra, renewing his descend on Jude's body. His lips tested the valley of her breasts, the feverish skin of her upper abdomen. Whenever his teeth pinched, Jude would squirm under his touch, whenever she felt his tongue on her, she'd scratch her nails against the wall, moans wailing out of her throat.

His tail wrapped around her waist, securing the girl when Cardan's cold hands slipped beneath her belt. Twitching the material of her panties between his fingers, the fae king suddenly stopped. "Is it him you want?"

Jude made out a strangled sound, unnerved and disappointed. She tried to talk, but her voice was lost. "Is it?" Cardan asked again, putting more force into his words this time, voice edging with a hint of fear and heartbreak. Jude considered lying again. Saying yes and forcing him to take her back. But she wanted more. More of Cardan, more of his touch, more of his experience and attention. "Tell me, Jude," the mortal queen gulped when the king stood up against her again, his fingers now digging in the soft flash of her butt.

"No."

"No? What do you want, then?" The fae asked, a self pleased grin tugging at his sharp features. Jude's breath itched, then accelerated when light caught the lust in his eyes, mirroring hers.

"You," her voice was barely a whisper, but it sent Cardan's mind in a flip, thoughts leaving him as he claimed her mouth once more.

"Again." He groaned. The fur of his tail tickled her spine. "What do you want?"

"You," she forced out, eyes fluttering close as Cardan's hands reached for the button of her jeans. "Say that again, Jude. You want me?"

"Yes."

"Say it," the tail squeezed tighter around her bare middle and Jude became vaguely aware that her pants were gone as well. "I- I want you, Cardan." She breathed out, quickly, impatiently. To which the young king responded with a guttural moan, dwelling in the feeling of hearing Jude say those words. But Cardan couldn't forget the months his queen spent in the mortal land, neither could he pretend she didn't went out on dates. A slow smile itched on his lips, dark and mischievous, like its owner.

"Then prove it." Their eyes met, staring unmovingly for what seemed like hours until one of the king's maniquered eyebrows arched in a silent dare. "It's time to bow down, your highness," he rasped out, trailing his gaze to the floor and back to Jude. "Get on your knees for me, Jude." Cardan's tone was taunting as he traced his thumb over her swollen lips.

The mortal's heart raced against her rib cage when she passed her tongue over her lips, forgetting about her husband's finger laying innocently on the pink flesh of her mouth. She watched as he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing while his feather light touch hardened on her face. And without leaving his gaze, Jude sunk on her knees.

Cardan's smirk widened. The High King had imagined this times before: Jude, on her knees before him, ready and willing to please him. He loosened the ties of his pants, freeing his hard erection. His fingers threaded through her hair, bringing Jude's head closer. She finally broke the eye contact, focusing as she brushed her parted lips over his cock's tip. Cardan's grip on her head tighten, and with a swift motion he bucked his hips against her mouth. The sharp movement pushed the fae king's dick further down her throat and the mortal's eyes widened before recovering and rolling her tongue over it.

The High King set a terribly fast pace, keeping his hands on Jude's head to coordinate her. She licked up and down, lips brushing the sensitive skin as Jude sucked on the fae's cock. Her moans vibrated against him, sending Cardan in a frenzy. "Good girl," he rasped softly. One more roll of his hips caused Jude to lose balance. Her palms moved forward, supporting her weight.

The king groaned, the image of his wife on all fours building the familiar knot in his stomach. But he wasn't done yet. "Get up." As soon as she did, he pushed her back to the wall. Jude was biting her bottom lip, disheveled, feeling warm and heated on the inside – a mix of ecstasy and embarrassment. When Cardan tossed away his own shirt, completely bare like herself, Jude couldn't stop her hands from touching the light muscles of his chest. "So eager to touch me."

As the words left his mouth, the fae king picked the mortal up. Jude's legs snapped wide open, circling Cardan's waist. Without warning, he thrusted inside her, snatching from her a breathless gasp. "Cardan," she moaned.

"That's it, Jude. There's only me for you." He said in a low groan, pushing deeper with each thrust. His hands digged in her sides as his tail wrapped around Jude's leg, pulling her towards him in sync with his thrusts. Her fingers tugged at his hair as she arched her back. "C- ah- rdan." As soon as she did, the king attached his mouth to one of her breasts. He sucked on the skin, kissing his way down to the sensitive nipple. He licked it once, twice, biting hard on it. "Cardan!" She yelped, which only caused a chuckle to echo on her chest Cardan to give the other breast the same treatment.

His thrusts became more urgent, her walls tightening perfectly around his cock. And just as Jude was about to come, Cardan stopped.

"What are you doing?" She asked out of breath.

He gripped her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. "What?" He feigned innocence. "Is there anything you wanted?"

She glared at him. He took one step backwards. Jude whined at the empty feeling when Cardan's dick slided out of her. "You shouldn't have go out with someone else." He took another step back. The king was close enough that their naked chests bumped against one another, but too far for Jude's liking, especially after the heights of pleasure he carried her on. He moved again, slowly and mockingly, unwrapping his tail off her thigh and crossing his arm.

"Wait!" Jude pleaded. "Please."

Cardan arched a brow expectantly. "Hm? Please what, Jude?"

"Get back here and..."

The High King shook his head. "The time when you ordered me around is gone. If you want something from me, beg, Jude. Beg me for it."

And she did. Heavens make her forget it, she did. The mortal queen pleaded, eyes cast on the floor in shame, voice shaking. There was a pause after she spoke. Silence settled agonizingly and then she dared to look up.

Cardan's eyes sparkled with delight, a cruel smile spread on his face. He walked towards her so fast Jude couldn't fully comprehend it until his lips were crushing hers. His hands cupping her face with a ferocious force, tongue pushing against her own and tow sets of teeth clenching. She moaned, anticipation growing in her chest. But Cardan pulled back and morphed his features in a fake pout.

"Too bad you've been acting poorly, Jude. But maybe next time, if you ask nicely."

And with that, he's gone, leaving Jude naked, heated and ravished, wanting for more.

[touyasdoll]

Heroes Don't Do That - Part Three (Red Track)

Previous Chapter

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x reader, Eijirou Kirishima x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

The mirror wasn’t your friend this morning, so you avoided it as you stripped off his shirt, trying not to inhale the scent of his cologne. Setting it aside, you picked up your jeans and felt that they had a strange weight to them. Fishing into the pocket, you discovered your cell phone, which had two new messages waiting for you.

Izuku: Good morning, Y/n! Would you like to grab lunch with me today? 😊

&

Kirishima: hey, you wanna come over? I can pick us up some coffee. Been a minute since we hung out without lord explosion murder himself.

After the mess of this morning, you figured it would be good to have some company to keep your mind off things. You took a moment to consider, knowing you couldn’t make plans with the both of them. Eventually, you shrugged as you made up your mind and texted your confirmation to: Kirishima.

You: Yes, pleaseee. I could use some time away from that explosive mother fucker.

Kirishima: Yikes. what'd he fuck up now?

You: I'll tell you after I've had my caffeine. Gotta stop at home, then I'll head over.

Kirishima: I'll have coffee waiting :)

You texted a quick reply to Izuku, before it slipped your mind, explaining that you wouldn't be able to make it today. Not wanting to spend a second longer in Bakugou's house, you promptly changed back into last night's attire, splashed some water on your teary face, and took a deep breath before creeping back out into the hallway.

Mercifully, he was nowhere to be seen when you stepped out of the restroom, but you didn't want to chance another encounter. You tossed his t-shirt over the back of the couch and scurried out the door, heading for the solace of your own home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before you made your way to Kirishima's apartment.

//an hour or so later//

As soon as the door swung open, you were greeted with Kirishima's infectious grin.

"Hey! Good mornin'," he stepped aside to let you in, gesturing with a nod to the eat-in counter in his kitchen, which was covered in take-out boxes full of breakfast food. "I ordered us some brunch. Seemed like you weren’t in the best mood, so I thought it might cheer you up.”

“Awh,” you stuck your bottom lip out in a small pout. “Eiji, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he shrugged, closing the door behind you,“But I wanted to,” his lips curled into a smile as he pulled out a stool for you, “I hope I didn’t mess up your order. I’m pretty sure I got the coffee right, but I couldn’t remember how you like your eggs.”

“Looks like you nailed it,” you smiled as you took your seat, nodding at him courteously. “Thank you. This is really sweet of you.”

“You haven’t eaten yet, right?” He pulled out the stool beside you, taking a seat for himself as you sipped your coffee.

You rolled your eyes, setting your coffee back down as you swallowed before replying, “I did, but not much. I’m actually pretty hungry, so I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, well I guess that works out then,” he picked up the plastic cutlery, digging in to his food as he shot you a sideways glance. “So, did you just not really get a chance to eat this morning or?”

“My appetite was ruined,” you shifted your lips to the side, picking up a fork to scoop up a bite of your breakfast. “Made breakfast at his place and also made the mistake of mentioning that Midoriya had tried to make plans with me.”

“So?” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Why does he care what you do with Midoriya?”

You shrugged, “According to Bakugou, he’s just trying to get into my pants.”

“What?” He shook his head, utterly perplexed now as he whipped his head over to look at you like you’d tried to convince him that the sky was green. “Midoriya? No, I don’t think so.” His voice pitched up, annoyance evident in his tone as he continued, “But also, who is he to talk? I mean, isn’t—,” He stopped, closing his eyes as he sighed and turned his attention back to his food, “I’m sorry, never mind.”

“Isn’t that exactly what he’s doing?” You glanced over at him as you finished his thought, nodding slowly before lifting your cup to take another swig of coffee. “Sure is.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, stealing another sideways glance at Kirishima, whose brow was still furrowed in frustration, as you debated telling him about your other foolish mistake. He caught your gaze and his expression instantly melted into one that was much softer.

“Hey,” he set his utensils down, turning sideways on his stool to rest a supportive hand on your shoulder, “Are you all right? Did something else happen?”

His genuine display of concern threatened to have you bursting into tears all over again. They welled up in your eyes as you tried desperately to fight them off, tilting your head back in an attempt to deny them gravity’s assistance as you shook your head.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered softly, standing as he wrapped two strong arms around you, cradling you into his chest as he tucked you beneath his chin and began rubbing circles on your back. “It’s okay, I gotcha.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him as close as you could while you quietly sobbed into his chest. This was stupid. This could have been avoided. This was embarrassing. Here you were, crying for the second time today already and feeling like an absolute fool. But, thankfully, you were with Kiri.

He, much unlike Bakugou, was never one to judge. He was quick to compassion and empathy. Always wanted to be there for others, even if it meant that it would take a toll on him. He was selfless; a safe place for anyone who needed support and you loved him for it.

The three of you had always been close, but you and Kirishima had always been on a far more similar emotional wavelength. You’d both rubbed off a little on Bakugou, having taken turns over the years trying to pry him out of the blockade he’d constructed around himself, but it wasn’t quite enough to turn him into an emotionally functional human being just yet.

For that reason, it was easier for you and Kirishima to be vulnerable with each other in ways that Bakugou just wouldn’t know how to respond to. If he needed a shoulder to cry on, he knew that he could come to you and vice versa.

That isn’t to say that Bakugou never tried to be that for either of you. He did, he was a good friend in that he did honestly try, but it wasn’t quite the same, and that wasn’t his fault. You and Kiri just understood each other.

Falling apart seemed inevitable at this point, so you decided you may as well lean in and let it hit you while Kirishima was around to catch you.

“I told him that I loved him,” you choked out a sob, cursing your face in his chest, trying to hide from the decisions you’d made that out you here.

His eyes closed, wincing at the words that he’d hoped to never hear you say. He felt an ache in his chest as his heart broke clean in two, as much as for himself as for you.

“Oh, Y/n,” he held you tighter, shifting his weight between his feet to rock you slowly.

“I know,” you sniffled, pulling away enough to wipe at your eyes as you tried to calm yourself. “I know. It was stupid. I knew what would happen. I just, I-I thought, stupidly. So, so, fucking stupidly that maybe? M-maybe he?”

“Ssh, ssh, ssh,” he placed his hand behind your head, stroking your hair gently as he pulled you back into his chest. “I know, but this isn’t your fault. You can’t help the way you feel. You can’t blame yourself for trying, right? It wasn’t stupid, it was just something you needed to do, okay?”

He pulled away to look at you, smiling sympathetically as he cupped your face in both hands to wipe away your tears with his thumbs.

“Okay,” your voice was as small as your smile, “thank you, Eiji.” You lifted a hand to place over his, swiping your thumb over the back of his hand, “I’m so sorry for just laying all of this on you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulled his hands away and sat back down, still facing you. “You don’t have to apologize. I know it’s not like there’s any other people you could talk to about this. But beyond that, I just want you to know that you can come to me. Doesn’t matter how heavy it is, I’ll help carry it. I promise.”

“Eij, you’re gonna make me cry again,” you half laughed/half sobbed as you smiled at him. “Thank you, really. I swear though, I just wanted to come over here and forget about everything that happened and have a good time with you today. I don’t wanna waste anymore energy on how I felt this morning.”

“Then let’s have fun,” he smiled energetically, “we’ll do whatever you want. We can play some games, catch a movie, grab some food, go shopping. Anything you want, all day. And then tonight, we’ll go out? If you’re up for it.”

His eyebrows were raised, finger guns pointing in your direction as he donned a goofy grin that you couldn’t help but giggle at.

“Go out? Like to a club or something? Ugh, I haven’t been in so long, I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself,” you laughed quietly, turning back to your plate to prod at your food.

“We can invite everyone else,” he suggested, “I know Mina would make sure you enjoyed yourself. You’ll probably end up drunk, but it’ll be a good time.”

“That’s true,” you nodded thoughtfully, thinking on it for a moment, before you smiled and nodded in earnest. “Okay, that sounds like a plan. I usually feel better when I get all dressed up anyway.”

“I’ll text everyone an invite,” he smiled and picked up his phone, tapping at his keyboard. After a moment, he set it down and returned to his food, nodding over to you as he took a bite, “What do you wanna do until then?”

“Can we just lay around and do nothing? It sounds like a damn dream right now, honestly.”

“We can do that,” he let out a soft chuckle. “Like I said, whatever you want.”

And that’s precisely what you did. The two of you finished up breakfast and moved your conversation over to the couch. You sat and talked for a while, conversing about anything but the elephant in the room. He shared some stories about his recent victories, in which he definitely didn’t overtly embellish any little details for comedic effect, as he worked to keep that little smile on your face going strong.

Every time it slipped, he felt his heart pang. He worried that you were in a type of pain that he wouldn’t be able to soothe, though he desperately wished that he could. It was a pain that he understood far too well: unrequited love.

He couldn’t tell you when it happened, or when he’d realized it even. It seemed like it just was one day. Like it had always been that way. Him, head over heels in love with you; it just seemed to make sense. You were beautiful, smart, brave, heroic, funny, sensitive, patient; the list could go on and on in his mind.

His love for you was second nature to him now. A part of himself that he couldn’t change, despite how he’d tried. Especially once he knew.

You had both tried to hide your little arrangement from him, deciding it was best if no one knew what was going on between you and Bakugou. It would only complicate things, you’d reasoned. But you’d underestimated his perceptiveness. He saw how comfortable you two had gotten with each other. Knew how much time you’d spent together. Seen you over at Bakugou’s place much earlier in the morning than you had any business being there.

He still wished he hadn’t asked you to confirm it. Maybe, if the two of you hadn’t let him in on your little secret, he could pretend like he didn’t see it after all. Didn’t see the way Bakugou’s hand rested a little too low on your back. The way you stood so close to one another in a crowd. Or, worst of all, the way that you looked at Bakugou, in exactly the way that he wished that you would look at him.

He could bear it though. You seemed like you were happy and that’s all he really wanted. If whatever you and Bakugou had going was keeping you content, then he wouldn’t interfere. If you two actually fell in love, then so be it. What kind of man would he be if he stood in the way of his two best friends having a chance at love? Not a very good one, he’d reckoned. So he stayed out of it. Never breathed a word of concern to Bakugou; it wasn’t his place and he knew that.

But this? He had to know. He didn’t want to ask you, didn’t want to risk upsetting you again, but he needed to know what he’d said to you. Bakugou wasn’t exactly a poetic man. He had his fair share of sharp edges to contend with when navigating delicate situations. Edges that he often didn’t consider when bulldozing people with his poor choice of words.

So when your eyes drifted shut, curled up on the couch as you drifted into an afternoon nap, he picked up his phone. He had to know.

Kirishima: We need to talk.

Bakugou: ??

Bakugou: You breaking up with me, shitty hair?

Kirishima: I’m serious. Y/n’s here.

Bakugou: And? I can’t read your fuckin mind dumbass. Get to the damn point. She said she was going to see you today. What about it?

Kirishima: she say anything else this morning?

He was fuming, teeth grit as he watched those three little dots pop up, then fade. Pop up. Fade again. It was a noticeably longer lull between messages before he received the next.

Bakugou: Not doing this with you. Fuck off

Kirishima: is that what you said to her? Bro, you can’t just write shit like this off

Bakugou: not. Fucking. Doing it. Learn to goddamn read.

Kirishima: Then talk to her at least. I love you, man, but handle your shit for once.

The three dots popped up immediately, pulsing on the screen for a few seconds before they disappeared. He waited, but they never returned.

He sighed, tossing his phone on the table a little too loudly. You stirred, sitting up from your sprawled out spot on the couch beside him.

“Eiji?” You yawned, stretching your shoulders, “sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“That’s all right,” he put on a smile to mask his frustrated aura. “You weren’t out long. You can get some rest if you need it.”

“No, no,” you rubbed your eyes, sitting cross-legged as you turned to face him, “let’s do something. Maybe we can grab an early dinner? That way I have enough time to transform from a potato into a thot before we go out tonight.”

He couldn’t help but to laugh, eyebrows raised at your choice of words, “I don’t think that’s how the story goes, princess. And you don’t look like a potato, I promise.”

“Eh,” you shrugged, “agree to disagree on that one. But seriously, let’s get dinner. Just the two of us, before we see everyone else tonight.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “I’d like that.”

Previous Chapter

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don��t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.