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pyxisastronautica · 3 months

Text

Pride

“Why am I sitting here.”

“You can stand if you like. Pace the room, even. Do what you need to do to make yourself more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if the building collapsed on us.”

“Would you actually?”

“...No.”

Victor tapped his foot, debating whether or not he actually wanted to move around. As ever, he felt whatever passing for impulse within him urging him into motion, as if he wanted there to be a threat to focus on, to take his mind off of the present. He scanned Juliet’s expression once more. Early on in their sessions she had smiled at him, but his volatility and distrust made even something merely polite seem disingenuous and mocking. She had learned that a passive, neutral expression worked better for him, and that’s what it remained at present. Unreadable, almost blank. This was also starting to bother him, if only because he realized now that it was his own illogical behavior that had made her this way, just as it made him want to strangle ghosts. He hushed the snarl that wanted to form in his speakers, though. He was too paranoid to speak another word out loud despite being in a quiet and largely unoccupied rented office.

“So. How’s your week been?”

V: Fine.

J: This still only works if you talk to me, Victor. There’s no program that can get you around that.”

V: Isn’t this a waste of your time, given everything else we’ve taken to attending to? Why are we doing this again?

J: It’s only a waste of my time if you keep trying to shut me out. Despite everything, you are still my patient, Victor. You’ve had to adapt to a lot, including a direct change to your programming. It’s imperative to assess how this has impacted you- your welfare, or lack thereof, and its consequences are of import to our whole crew.

She paused for a moment, then added:

J: ...It is regrettable I haven’t been able to make more time to do this earlier. I truly would have liked to help you. But we’re both here now, yes? So let’s talk.

He couldn’t even tell if she meant that much. Juliet was never meant to treat synthetic patients, she was made to study and aid organic ones- but when quirks in the crew’s behaviors led to conflict she realized it was a necessary task to take upon herself. Victor could only imagine it being a reluctant one, that she’d rather be digging into the tender psyches of humans right now with the thorough efficiency of a praying mantis eating its prey. That seemed more likely. But whatever her reasons, she had chosen to contact Echo to make them schedule him an appointment, so if she was actually bored or irritated with returning to this duty it was on her, he reasoned.

Victor hunched over.

V: ...My week’s been unremarkable. My platoon has been performing adequately, for their capabilities. Uniform has been handling most of the intel gathering, while I ensure our patrols and drills go smoothly. A few of the…re-educated cyborgs have been placed in my ranks. They…destabilize, at times, but there is not too much difficulty putting them back on track.

Juliet nodded slowly. She’d heard of the practice by now, the lengths to which companies went to ensure that those who were forcibly cyborgized remained obedient. That Echo had chosen to accept the tradition rather than shut it down was uncomfortable to her, to say the least, but she understood the rationale and couldn’t bring herself to complain- these were desperate times that would only get more desperate, and there was no room for squeamishness. Even so, a little bit of her working memory drifted towards drafting a plan for how to reintegrate these glazed shells back into the rest of human society. One day, surely, there would be no need for such policies- at least not as they currently existed.

Such unflinching obedience was the purpose of robots, after all, not human beings.

J: How do you feel about your new coworkers? Your subordinates and superiors?

V: My subordinates perform adequately, as previously mentioned. Early on I found myself frustrated at having to lower my standards for them, and they had more than a few misgivings about me. I may have climbed quickly, but I have the appearance of a young and untested officer- which I suppose I was, to the extent that I was not meant to command only robots. They learned quickly not to test me, however. And for my part…I cannot afford to be as picky as Uniform about who I am assigned. I have had to learn how to teach them to overcome their weaknesses, and they seem to think my performance is adequate in that regard. They’ve become…chummy, for lack of a better word.

I find much less warmth among my peers and superiors. Uniform’s and my own perceived existence as “the CEO’s favorite pet project” clearly rubs them wrong, and they are often uncharitable in their assessments of us. I don’t mind that. I prefer it, actually. The head of the mercenary corps may obey the person writing their paycheck, but they don’t actually have to promote us beyond what they believe our merits to be. That we have made it this far with as much disfavor speaks more honestly than if they actually liked us. I need nothing more than professionalism from any of them.

Both those above and below me show apprehension with regards to my new units. “Uncanny”, I think, is the word they use. The captain has set in place some workplace boundaries I can enforce to keep them from heaping abuse on us to the extent that we were used to. “Conduct regarding company property” and the right of that property to preserve itself. Some feel our existence threatens their job security. Others think us mindless as any of their other creations, only to be unsettled by a well-placed response catching them off guard. Others still welcome the backup, have been giving different units of mine nicknames based on the serials and specific phrases or actions I may have taken around them.

J: ...Yet from the sound of it, the people I presume that you work with most directly on a daily basis, do favor you as a commander, at least? That must be validating in a way, is it not? To know that your skill extends beyond the intended scope of your purpose, I mean.

As for your new units…We did expect friction, of course. These people aren’t from a culture that is used to robots of our caliber. But by the same token, without that history, this may be a chance for us to start over with humanity. They may learn to understand and respect us in ways that our own culture could not.

V: “Our culture” you say, as if it belonged to us. It matters not either way.

J: Whether it belongs to us or not, it is what we were trained around, what we know. And why is that?

The agitation pricked at Victor’s core, as it had been for the past couple of months. He stood up now, regardless of how pointless it was, and paced like a lion in its cage.

V: ...Of course I feel gratification at working within the bounds of my purpose. When my soldiers heed my words, when they are motivated by them, when I had protected them in battle, that warm green light clicked on inside as much as it did at my breaking of bones, of my slashing and blasting through flesh. You feel it too, don’t you? Whenever you…fix someone. Whenever you manipulate them to do what you want?

J: Naturally, Victor. Our creators, in seeking to create machines psychologically comparable to themselves- enough to be good representations of mankind- created an equivalent to the reward and punishment feedback systems that they evolved naturally. Though it is tweaked, of course, to ensure that we remain faithful to them. That we feel joy and relief at working towards our purpose. On that note: keeping my crew healthy is an extension of my directive, as I see it. It is through all of you, as much as me, that we can make humanity safe, after all. So perhaps you will not fault me for taking pleasure in those moments, as scarce as they have been, when I have had some positive impact in your life- and for seeking to continue doing so.

Victor eyed Juliet warily. It made sense, but his mind scrambled for distance.

V: You’ve had to get your hands dirty by now- I know you did with your interactions in Taros and Phlegeth- which brings me to ask: do you not also feel shame at that irrepressible joy born from necessary cruelties?

J: ...Do you?

A harsh static noise came from Victor, like a growl.

V: I thought merely to revel in it at first, as my fellow officer does, and I do. How I ever wish I could do so more, if anything. It should feel so very good to break these worthless holy animals. But it is a joy tainted by the knowledge that I am, as ever, a slave to my programming- that it cannot exist if I cannot justify it. So it also is with any happiness that comes from budding attachment to those around me. I can’t trust such feelings to be genuine. I am, after all, merely an imitation of a person. A bastardous thing, half-weapon and half-person robbed the grace of being fully either.

J: I do not think these feelings are in and of themselves shameful, Victor. Only a lack of discipline in your actions can make them so. Your job may be an inglorious one, but it is necessary, after all. Further…you punish yourself too much in denying them.

Think of it this way: were you human, you would still be bound by emotional mechanisms. You would not be free of the desire to bond with others, to protect them, to help them- those are all urges the majority of them possess for one another, ones they often have to learn to repress rather than merely being able to turn down or turn off any inconvenient emotion at will. And the rage for yourself and others that you seek to use to supplant it- is that not also the product of mankind’s doing?

“It is. Obviously it is,” Victor hissed, probably sounding absurd for saying so out loud without context, but too deep into his seething to care.

J: ...But that was the result of your trainer’s actions and negligence. It is a part of you now- but it doesn’t have to stay that way. The memories will remain within you until you delete them, but the weight they hold over you can be changed, if you allow it to be. But even if you don’t, there is no part of your emotions that come from or exist in a vacuum- we were shaped by our creators, for better and for worse. I’m not asking you to become trusting of everyone you meet, but I truly believe that finding healthy ways to open yourself up to the gifts given to us- however conditionally- will help you.

Victor turned his back to Juliet, hands folded behind his back.

V: ...It won’t, though. Whatever respect I claw out of these humans is based on the lie that I possess some chunk of meat within me that makes me like them. They will turn on us when they learn of what we are: mere machines. Servitors. I know it. I see their reluctance to acknowledge us. They don’t know. But would knowing even change them? They’ve been this way from the beginning, not just with us but with each other.

Mankind is our god, but it is a fickle, cruel, insane god. It spreads madness and mayhem with every step, and demands we hold it together even as it falls apart in our hands. These creatures, these little pieces of divinity, will rescind their love the moment they fully realize we are not their equal. And they will. The lie will not hold forever- it was never meant to. Why must I bare my core to such agony? Is it not enough to know what I have as-is will be gone?

The taller robot sat down again, hands balled into fists while his eyes closed. Though he could hear her stand and walk and remained completely still, there was still a full nanosecond where the impulse to flinch or lash out washed over him from her light touch on his shoulder.

J: I think you underestimate them.

V: I think I estimate them well enough.

J: You allow your judgements to be clouded by bias. You may think you’re playing it safe by keeping your distance, but this isn’t as secure of a course of action as you may think.

Let me ask you: the soldier and civilian that you mentioned bailing out during Blackout Week- what was their response?

V: Relief, I suppose. The corporal was adamant that he’d made the right decision despite my pointing out that he could easily have gotten two people killed rather than one with his insubordinate stunt.

J: But he trusted you and his fellows enough to do it anyway.

V: He did.

J: And he was right in his assessment.

V: He was.

J: What made him right? Why not let him die?

V: …We needed to move up regardless, but I was hoping for a better opportunity. I could tell that the others were getting impatient and didn’t want to leave him out there- he was a well-liked man, and hanging back would have lowered their morale when we did push, making them worse for our efforts overall. It was a risk within my ability to fix, so I fixed it and it happened to pay off.

J: And you don’t think that has more to do with your platoon’s fondness of you- despite your aloofness- than your species? You don’t think that will be remembered by that civilian’s family and friends- or anyone who might’ve been witnessing? To you it may have been mere duty, but to them it was a defining moment in their relationship to you.

People will do things that seem senseless because their decisions are made according to their emotional impacts rather than their physical ones. For that man, watching a helpless stranger stranded in the middle of a battlefield be blown apart was worse than death- especially if there was a chance they might have been saved. How much worse do you think it would be for him to watch you, who saved his life, be imprisoned or killed for something you also cannot help?

V: …I did still punish him for acting against orders.

J: Did he begrudge you for that?

V: No. He knew he had no grounds to.

J: …The reasons you have for your misgivings are understandable. Truly they are, and I’d go as far as to say some parts of them have merit because we are in uncomfortable and unfamiliar territory with negotiating a new status quo between our kinds. But people long for connection. They anthropomorphize to create it even with those things that cannot offer it to them in any meaningful way. If those bonds grow strong enough, they may even hurt worse to break than having to turn against their fellows.

You are already on the right track, Victor. You need only to accept it, so that you can focus your processing towards matters that truly deserve the space. So that you can save your hostility for those who truly merit the ire.

V: And if you’re wrong, and they choose to reject us anyway?

J: …Then you’ll still have your crew, won’t you?

V: Perhaps.

J: You will. Defeatism will avail you nothing, and you know that. You have changed since the ship, and you will continue to- and as you do, your relationships with others will as well. Time will mend what has been torn, if you make the effort to see it done.

I’d like you to try being more open with others. Once a week, try saying yes to something you would normally shut out- an opportunity to spend time with others, be they crew or otherwise. A compliment. A moment to yourself where you focus on something that you want to do because you enjoy it. Keeping sharp is not just knowing where there are threats, but where there are opportunities. Give yourself some.

When Victor looked up Juliet was seated again. The words ran through his mind over and over. They didn’t make him feel much better, all told. Too many unknowns existed with regards whether or not these humans, his crew, or himself were capable of change. They didn’t make him feel worse though, either. Juliet was right in a sense- he was never the type of person to slow down or quit. Perhaps what he had taken to be apathy within himself, a resignation to how little he mattered to others, was in truth cowardice- a trait he loathed whenever it appeared in himself as much as others.

He didn’t have high hopes. In all likelihood his attempts would probably fall flat. But at least he would have more justification for keeping people at bay than he did now.

J: On that note, I’d like to hear about how your hobby has been going. Echo tells me you’ve been practicing music of different kinds than you usually do?

V: I have. I’ve…

Why was he embarrassed? It was stupid of him to get roped into playing music with the others to begin with, but it had always made Uniform happy to play with others- she genuinely believed it created some amount of unity with them, as both Yuma and Echo had both tried to tell them. It wasn’t all that meaningful, in his eyes- it didn’t affect how they treated each other outside of their sessions together- but it had become a habit, a part of their collective routine. With that being the case, was anything that had changed any more stupid than what he’d already done?

And yet, pride kept him silent, especially about such trivial things as his own experiences, until he felt ready for his reactor to explode.

But Juliet was patient.

V: I started playing jazz noir. And. Singing, sometimes. It…feels nice. As if some part of me is escaping into the air and becoming free.

Uniform joins me sometimes when I sing. Our voices are at opposite ends, but I suppose that doesn’t matter. I think it means something to her too, though I’m not actually sure what.

J: Have you noticed any other changes you’d attribute to your update?

V: …I enjoy reading more. That beach that we were sitting on, before we returned to Earth. I remember looking out into the water, trying to read about it. Short stories, poetry. I went through dozens, trying to feel anything. I knew other crew members could. That they could feel…awe, beauty, looking at it. But I could not. All I could see in front of me was water. All I could sense was the vibrations of a hundred tiny creatures in the sand- maybe threats. Or prey. And knowing that, all I could feel was hatred.

Hatred at being denied what came so easily to my creators. Envy of you, my comrades, for being given profound and peaceful minds where mine was…flat, and always anticipating when next I would need to be of use. That they made our mission that of diplomacy and left me to the company of diplomats who feared and scorned me for being as I was made, as I was shaped. That I had felt so alone for so long, save for the company of my division who shared my discomforts, is not something I may ever forgive humanity for.

Even so. I’ve found that the lives of the people here are harsh. That they also know fear, hatred, loneliness. They use each other here as callously as our humans used robots. In their words I’ve found comfort. I cannot trust them. But I cannot deny that, when I am alone, I begin to understand them. It makes the inevitable that much worse. But it is…cathartic, all the same.

J: I’m glad to hear that.

Now and again you should try talking to Amoy and Zulu. They may well have some recommendations for you- and doubtless, they would enjoy learning of what you’ve read.

V: Maybe you ought to warn them I’ll be in touch?

J: I could, but I can’t imagine there’s much need. You aren’t inherently someone that requires a warning, Victor. You may not ever be able to completely control how others see you, but you have the power to shape their opinions- as we all do.

And honestly, they often lament not having more people to discuss literature with. I don’t think they’re going to be picky. Just bear in mind their review may well be novels in and of themselves.

V: Understood.

J: Is there anything else that you’d like to discuss before we end?

V: …Will you be assisting with our operations?

J: I don’t think you’ll be seeing me around…but yes. What comes next is too important to let fail. I’ll try to schedule you in again after the chips fall where they will.

Could you send in Uniform?

V: Yes.

Victor stood up, dusting himself off. There was far too much to do, this had taken too much time out of his day already, and he felt like he still needed another half hour still to process.

“I never wanted to be here. I thought your practice was nothing more than an exercise in futility, when we had initially started. I’m still not entirely convinced of its merits…But I am beginning to think it has some.

“Thank you Juliet.”

“Of course. Believe it or not, you’ve taught me quite a lot as well.”

Juliet adjusted her hat and crossed her legs waiting for Uniform to arrive.

Uniform was prompt in her arrival and quiet aside from the sound of her flopping down on the couch. She stared up at the ceiling, her smile cordial, almost automatic.

U: Greetings Psychologist.

J: Hello Uniform. What’s on your mind today?

U: Do you ever think about Laika?

J: The first dog in space, they say. I can’t say I think about her often, though. What about her?

U: She was a stray they took in off the street, you know. They said she was charming and good with other dogs, despite being put through training that no dog could have been prepared for- so that she could die a death no other dog did. They had no hopes of her survival, but she did as she was told and got inside the capsule anyway. She trusted the people who saved her and they killed her for it.

So yeah, I was just thinking earlier about how mean it is for people to use “dog” as an insult. I mean. Humans bred dogs to be their helpers and companions in the same way they made us robots to be the same. They made both of us to be obedient, to do whatever we were made to do, and then deride us just the same for being that- and punish us if we fail! And yet, despite that, our natures compel us regardless. We’ll always get in the damn capsule.

Depressing, isn’t it? But you already knew that, I already knew that, and so does everyone else, so dwelling on it is sort of pointless, right? Just a thought that’s been kicking around in my core I guess. Anyway, I’ve started playing another video game. It’s called

Juliet held up a hand to stop her.

J: …Have you been called a dog recently Uniform?

U: I think the preferred term for our gender is: “bitch”, is it not? But yes, I’ve gotten both here and there. I like to stay focused! Having to deviate from my duties always leaves me out of place, but I suppose adhering strictly to them at all times makes me “unsociable” or some such. Annoying! But hardly out of the norm.

I mean it’s not like I don’t try, you know? I’ve researched quite a lot of Hades’ military history so I have something to talk about, and I’ve been playing local video games- I know for a fact there are members of my platoon that also play games- but they all like things that take them out of the moment rather than sharpen their skills within it. No matter what it feels like anyone who’s not obviously bored in our conversations is just humoring me. And for what! It’s not like they’re going to get any special treatment out of it. Or be able to fuck me over for it. It’s not like I can’t tell when someone’s trying.

J: Have you considered the possibility that others may be trying to meet you halfway, and are hoping you’ll do the same?

U: Psychologist, it’s not that I’m incapable of lying- I lie every day of my existence- but over matters this petty and granular I have a hard time trying to justify the effort. I. I understand the merit of you, mind. I know I need to like. Connect more. But it’s actually harder to feign interest in something than it is to pretend to be a different species. I don’t know what to say in those situations.

J: Let’s put it this way, then. If you can’t feel enthusiasm over the topic itself, perhaps you can feel it for the fact that someone is trying to reach out, yes? When the people around you, the people you work with, enjoy your company, it builds rapport with them, right? And from rapport, loyalty. Group cohesion. Solidifies your social position and improves your odds of successful command. So it’s difficult but important work- no matter how mundane it may seem.

And when it goes well, you can and should remind yourself to celebrate that. But as you said, I don’t think recognizing that is the hard part for you, right? So. Let’s go through some recent scenarios you’ve been through instead, and we can work on how you can approach them next time. Sound good?

U: I suppose that would be the most efficient use of our time, yes.

J: Is there anything else you’d like to talk about first?

U: It’s just. What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m still unlikable? What if they decide to give up and stop talking to me, like. Like our captain once did.

J: Echo could’ve explained themselves better, but I can tell you with certainty it wasn’t a matter of you being fundamentally unlikable. It’s not like they’re still avoiding you, right?

U: Well, no, but.

J: Uniform, you can be a genuinely enjoyable person to spend time around if someone gives you a chance. But that is not the beginning or end of the issues others have with you. You are dedicated, yes, but you are zealous to the point of ignoring the moral implications of your actions.

U: And? What do you want from me? What does anyone? My purpose is to direct the action of myself and other androids towards victory in combat scenarios. Winning, and winning decisively, saves lives in the long run. You know that. Why does everyone have to wring their hands about it? While others fumble over what is moral, more people would die than if someone had done the dirty work of crushing their opponent until they yield. I’m not a politician, looking good isn’t what I’m for.

J: War is politics, Uniform. People don’t wake up and choose to gamble not only their own lives but that of everyone around them on a whim. Any victory you achieve will be ephemeral if you don’t look for solutions that will create lasting peace, and in fact incite events that might destroy it.

U: You sound just like the Captain. But that hasn’t stopped either of you from doing what you have to. Don’t get me wrong, I envy you in a way. Having the patience to listen to others hem and haw and bluff. It’s like watching a sorcerer at work, unlocking doors with but a word. But that’s not what I’m for. Why does everyone want me to be ashamed of that?

J: That’s not what anyone wants from you. What we want is for you to recognize that having the power to win through a ruthless solution does not make that solution ideal. Yes, sometimes it is the only option, and your resolve in the face of that is necessary without a doubt. But you need to be able and willing to consider alternative paths in the event that they are available. You can’t always cut the knot- sometimes you have to take the time to unmake it.

U: What difference does it make as long as I follow my superiors’ orders?

J: Because there will be times when they will be out of reach or not able to contact you fast enough and you alone will have to make the call. What people fear is that you will not make the right one.

U: And what if the right decision is the one that makes me hated anyway?

J: Can you live with being hated?

U: I already do. It’d be a joke to say that it’s a choice at all. None of you have any either.

J: I know.

Uniform, whether you feel pride or shame in what you do is in your control, not mine. I’m glad to have you as my crewmate, and I won’t try to tell you how to do your job. My job is to give people the tools to be mentally healthy, to feel healthy. And no matter how you may try to hide your fears behind duty, I know you’re afraid. You’re afraid of being lonely again. You’re afraid of being discarded despite your efforts- you told me as much.

That is not entirely outside of your power to fix.

We are all working towards a solution for humanity’s problems and none of us have all of the answers. And yes, that keeps our hands tied in some cases. But it is worth weighing all possible options, regardless of which the optimal one ends up being. That is all I ask you to consider. That is all that anyone can ask you to consider as far as the big issues go. But as for the small ones, the ones that add up, the ones that matter to you and to the now, those are the ones we need to address.

It is not a waste of time to work on yourself. It is a kindness not only to others but yourself.

U: It is wasted on me. I must act whether there is kindness or not. I just want to do a good job, everything just gets in the way.

J: Even the hardest and most unyielding diamond is liable to crack without care. Having high standards is fine, but you need to be more gentle with yourself and others by extension. Taking care of yourself is part of your job.

Let me help you do it.

Uniform sat up, hugging her knees. She looked annoyed, more than anything. Partially, it was with herself. Why was it always so hard? Why couldn’t everyone else just shrug it off like she always had to? Why was she so bad at something so critical? At everything else she could push herself until she succeeded. At this, she felt like she was hitting a brick wall everytime. She’d keep doing it. She had to, but she kept waiting for the point where it became easier and it never did.

There was no point arguing about it, though.

U: Alright.

J: I’m glad to hear it. And Uniform?

U: Yes?

J: I genuinely am proud of you. All those years I wondered if you would ever give yourself a chance. No matter how hard or frustrating the process is, even if you feel resigned to it, I’m glad to see you try.

Uniform buried her head in her lap, silent.

Juliet moved next to her and placed a hand at her back. They had less than twenty-five years to fix a civilization. They had all the time in the world.

#story post

1 note · View note

ddeongies · 3 months

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U LITERALLY UPDATED WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS but hi im sending it anyway because i do love giving feeback and opinions lol. i was rereading to prep before ryeji day and i have(had?) some thoughts. if anything is incoherent i’m sorryyyy but like we are seeing each other rn like i Understand.

to start off, i think its soooo funny how BOTH of them decided to keep the field of wildflowers secret during their respective grillings. like. lol. ok .

i honestly think...considering what we learn in chapter 7, that whole couch thing really ends up reading to me as ryujin trying to gauge the situation and see if yeji has any interest in her at all. cuddling into her like that I SEE U. I SEE HERRRR. which makes yeji's comment about ryu having "no ulterior motive" 10x funnier to me.

adding on to that, i think the fact that yeji does slip up a bit with how she's managing her feelings towards ryu both a) encourages ryujin to push forward a little more e.g. inviting her to pregame, sitting pressed up against yeji, all of her friends somehow disappearing from the dancefloor. and b) makes me wonder about how any potential "ryujin finds out yeji went off and slept with someone else" scenes will go. (for both of them really, like i do think yeji will definitely be feeling some type of way (bad) afterwards regardless of how soon ryujin may or may not find out).

to that last point, i remember how ryujin reacted when chaer asked her if it was okay that she had hooked up with yeji, before she had actually acknowledged any sort of feelings or desire towards her, compared to now, where she's gotten to the point of realizing her physical attraction but (as far as we know) no real emotional connection beyond being friends (yet). so i'm really curious about how she'll end up coming around to the realization that she's wayyyy more into yeji than she originally thought, and how yeji's actions in chapter 8 will affect her after she does come to that realization. like to me it feels like there's a high possibility of that feeding back into the deryusions and reinforcing ryu's idea that yeji only sees her as a friend. (WELL. THAT FIRST PARAGRAPH OF CHAPTER 9. LOL LMAOOOO. LMAOOOOO. )

it's really so funny to me watching it go back and forth between perspectives and seeing both of them go "there's no WAY she wants me back", like as frustrating as that kind of cycle could be it doesn't read as cliche or frustratingly boring because it's more of just both characters being unsure of what the other wants and acting based on that perception, true or not, and its written in such a way that keeps you engaged with the story and characters.

i honestly could go on and on about yeji's self-image in this fic (i had sent an ask a little over a week ago about it, and i did draft up some of my thoughts about her but it ended up being LONG AF lmao). but she's really so... as much as she is confident, i think it's briefly touched on in the fic itself, having a reputation does go both ways, and i think the way that she sees people treat her and the way she thinks they feel about her really are getting to her head when it comes to actually wanting to date someone. that comment she makes about people not seeing her as "girlfriend material" (the biggest lie ever), and how she's never been "it" for someone... ohhh baby no.... and as much as she is confident she's still almost convinced that ryujin would only ever see her as a friend which leads her to keep treating her as such (because above all else at the moment, they ARE friends, and yeji isn't the type of person who would push more than she thinks ryujin is willing to accept) and also to her misinterpretation of and outright refusal to read into any potential signals that ryujin might actually share her feelings.

i always feel a little bit silly whenever i do this because.w ell obviously YOU know all this already but here i am talking ur ear off about something u literally wrote and thought through urself and this also ended up being way longer than i thought it would even after i rewrote most of it to try and trim it down. idk this fic is making me crazy af omg….its genuinely...so well written. i love slow burn and narratives and character nuance and the ins and outs of relationship development and ur giving all of that and more. 🖤🖤🖤 OFF TO READ THE REST OF CH 9 NOW AAAAA

OMG I LOVE THIS i love comments and asks like this literally pls never stop!!! imma go under a read more so i can respond to each point!

also yesss you manifested the update LOL i hope you enjoy chapter 9!!!! and this is not incoherent at all i love it i live for this like i said like comments like this are the best part of posting fic i'm so serious

keeping the flower field private is so gay..... like ladies......

LOL i'm very glad you picked up on this! and since chapter 9 is out it's been confirmed lol, ryu definitely had an ulterior motive there. yeji was just a bit too much in her own head about everything to realize it

yes for sure! yeji doesn't want to scare ryu off (since she doesn't know how she feels), but she's only human, so like drunkenly telling her she looks hot on instagram is definitely the type of thing that ryu would see and be like "okay there's maybe more here than i originally thought." like i don't think she would've invited yeji over that night at all if that hadn't happened (even if she wanted to see her). also like, yes ryu, yeji is friendly foward and flirty, but she is for sure different with you than she is with her besties lol. and we didn't have yeji pov after that last hookup, but i can guarantee she didn't feel good about it. both because it wasn't ryujin and because she wasn't fully present with the person she was actually with. she's definitely the type of person who would feel really guilty about thinking about someone else during sex even if it's not on purpose

i do think ryu is in an interesting place with her feelings. she realized in chapter 7 that she's attracted to yeji, but then after they spent halloween together that's when she realized she's definitely feeling more than just physical attraction. she's kind of back and forth in this space (at least pre chapter 9) where part of her is like "yeji probably only wants to be my friend" and "yeji doesn't do relationships, but maybe she would want to hook up?" (BUT YES CHAPTER 9 LMAO)

i'm so glad to hear it's not reading in a cliche or frustrating way! like they're kind of dummies, but you can't really blame them. both of them have perceptions of themselves and each other that are getting in the way of jumping into a real romantic relationship, but that's kind of how life works (especially when you're young). i honestly think it would be expecting a lot from a couple of college students to think they would just like sit down and talk about their feelings in that vulnerable and honest kind of way. they are communicating and getting closer, but these things are a bit of a dance. so i guess i'm just trying to capture that real kind of slow burn back and forth. i don't want it to be contrived and slow just for the sake of it i just want them to feel real!

omg yes yes that ask! i loved that and if you ever have more thoughts on nmau yeji please do share i love talking about her and thinking about her and writing her! (the longer the better 😈) she's definitely both self aware and also not at all lol, which, again, is only fair for a college student i think. i think it's probably true that many people (ryujin included) don't assume she's looking for anything serious because she's never really shown the opposite to be true, but it doesn't mean no one views you as girlfriend material baby girl pls! she has high self esteem but it mostly manifests in those fields in which she's confident. hookups, soccer, certain classes. she knows she's hot, knows other people think that, but she has no romantic experience, and she's really feeling that lack of confidence in that area. she likes ryujin to the point where it's definitely getting in her way, but she just really wants to handle it with care it just happens to be a bit clumsy too!

PLEASE don't feel silly omg. i think so deeply about what i'm writing and the fun thing about it is some people will read what i wrote go "cool story!" and go on with their day until the next update. but some people (like you!!) will read my writing much more critically. i love to see what people pick up on deeper levels. the foreshadowing, motifs, nuances of characterization. like yes i know what i'm putting in, but seeing what other people pick up from my writing is genuinely my favorite part of posting! it's touching to me that you like my fic (and my yeji) so much, so thank you for this ask and your last one (and any future ones!!) 🖤🖤🖤

#made my night with this fr!!!#i hope you liked chapter 9 i would love to hear your thoughts :D #asks #🖤 anon #nmau #and imma tag #writing stuff #bc i feel like i got deeper into some of the Writing Stuff in my answer lol idk it's like 1 am and i am very tired #thank u for this beautiful ask fr!!#hopefully i answered coherently lol <3

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horizon-forbidden-sheesh · 9 months

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Writing Process: Drafting

Sooooo, I started drafting Part 2 almost immediately after Part 1 concluded—and by now I've abandoned my Scrivener file entirely and am doing everything in Google Docs. (I talk about my switch from Scrivener to Google, here. ⚙️)

This time, I didn't have all the journal entries to work from, either. I was starting entirely from a blank slate. So at first, I just let myself WRITE. All the scenes I was most excited about, in no particular order, just to squeeze all the juice out.

I did that for like a month. And then, when I had about 15-20k words of random bits and bobs, I started to put them in order, and develop a through-line. That's where the draft docs & trackers came in.

✏️ Away from Scrivener, I needed some extra organizational tools to house my more general notes, research, & scraps. So, I built this li'l cutie with easy links to all my Google draft files, and included a brief summary that helped me greatly when plotting out the next set 10 chapters for Part 2:

*The chapter titles were updated as my outline changed, but the summaries did not! The descriptor for Chapter 20 is now, like, Chapter 23.

Keeping the descriptors short really helps me stay on task. If I have so much I need to cover in a chapter that it drops my formatting to the next line, I know I probably won't be able to cover everything in ~3,000-5,000 words.

✏️ Now, that's just the first page of the "Table of Contents." As of today, it's 13 pages long, and it also houses a TON of notes and working drafts and snippets of dialogue that I am saving for future, as-yet-unspecified chapters.

It's really messy—and sometimes when I'm out & about and my service is shit, I whip open my old Notes app, just to get a thought down. Here, have a taste of what's been rattling around in my brain...

Dialogue often starts as just the dialogue. I layer in tags & descriptors later, during the editing process. Most of the conversations I've written started with me talking to myself alone in the car, in the shower, or while washing dishes. (This works for copywriting too. My best ideas almost NEVER come to me while I'm sitting-down-looking-at-a-screen. Of course.)

For instance, that same conversation made it from the Notes app into a Google Doc and has since evolved to:

A li'l somethin-somethin from the upcoming Scorcher Season's Chapter 24 🔥

✏️ Once I've got all the major plot points written, I'll go back and write the "boring" stuff in chronological order. Okay, it's not really boring. It's just the filler information that helps a reader get from point A to point B, and I edit as I go. This ends up being like half of the total word count for the full 10 Chapters.

I'm currently hitting this point in Part 3—and you can see below that just writing my favorite parts here and there gets me pretty far on its own. Over the last 3 weeks, I've nearly exhausted my imagination developing the general story arc. Next up, I'll go back and start fleshing out each chapters one by one.

Wanna know something CRAZY?? Over the last ~year, I've noticed that I tend to write nonstop during Mercury Retrogrades. Like, I don't want to do anything else. I'm learning not to schedule any major projects for these ~3 week periods, so I don't blow my deadlines on account of being too obsessed with my fanfic to bother. 😅

After my decision to expand to 4 Parts total, my original ToC Doc got a bit... top heavy. (Also, I got really tired of manually calculating all the word counts.) So, instead of continuing in Docs, I added a tab to my spreadsheet:

*Hiding my chapter summaries so as not to spoil!! 😈

As you can see, I fill in the links as I create the draft docs... and I've already had to split a chapter in half due to scale, so the untitled <Scorcher 7> dropped to Part 4. I'm hopeful I won't have to split any more, so I can end strong on 'Ten Days.'

I don't usually start the finale until the very end, because I've learned that the wonderful comments I receive will sometimes give me extra ideas that I want to ensure make it into the fic!

✏️ Around the time I've fully completed the first 5 chapters, I'll give myself the green light to start posting. That leaves me just enough runway to finish out the rest of the season, and posting on a timeline helps keeps me motivated & accountable!

This is getting kinda long, so I'll write about Trackers & Timelines I've developed along the way in another post.

Thanks for being here! 🖤

xo, Sheesh.

#hfw #horizon forbidden west #kotaloy #The Marshal #the making of #writing process #writing tools #writing advice

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eeveelotions · 2 years

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a life update

cw/tw, pet death mention, depression, suicidal thoughts, toxic home relationship

so. I've kinda dropped off since the new year. been meaning to update you guys (gender neutral) but, well. it's been hard. so let me give you a summary of the first twelve days of 2023 for me

-girldriend broke up with me

-my own words caused a best friend to stop being friends with me. it's my fault. maybe if I apologized and begged, I could fix it.

-two weeks ago, on a Monday, the day classes for school started, I took my cat and emotional Support animal, Alfred, to the vet in-between classes

-alfred already had hypothyroidism, high blood pressure and kidney disease, and was on approximately three meds (two pills and a packrt of gel stuff for his kidneys)

-at the vet, they determined he has pancreatitis, hip and back arthritis (which is why he sits and walks weird), and one of his few remaining teeth is starting to go bad

-pancreatitis, I could handle. another pill, no problem, it's fine

-but the arthritis. he's in pain, and has been for I don't know how long.

-the only pain medicine is a shot they give him, which is 75 dollars once a month, not including the price of his other medications, wet cat food from lack of teeth, and check ups

-so, I. I made the decision, and I'm putting him down March 14th. its spring break, a Tuesday, so I can spend one full day with him, and not miss work or school while grieving

-we went back and forth for about an hour before I blew up, saying I was managing it, I was going to keep him comfortable while I processed it, then went to class

-went home, told my mom. she yelled at me, said I was being selfish for keeping him alive for so long. made me feel guilty for considering cremation, I wasn't being fair to Alfred

-two days of peace while my uncle was visiting

-thursday morning before class. I came downstairs, we talked, normal. then she said that it seemed like I cared more about my cat dying than when my grandma, her mother passed in 2021.

-for context, I was close with my grandmother. I visited her once or twice a month for almost a year prior to her passing, and it was incredibly hard on me. I took the whole week leading up to the funeral off of work.

-i guess my mom didn't remember, because she had the AUDACITY to tell me I didn't take a grieving period for my grandma, then she got upset when I said "how dare you"

-then I went off to class, and texted a friend whom had offered to let me move in with their family in the past, if the offer was still on the table and how it would work.

-ive lived here for two weeks now. it's a longer commute to and from work and school, but I havent been yelled at in two weeks as of tomorrow

-prior to 2023, I lost two cats in 2022. Family cat Smokey in August, baby 2yo kitten Princess in October.

-march 14th, the day I'm putting and have scheduled to put Alfred down, is eight days before my birthday.

-i still have class and homework. I have a comm I need to finish, and the person has been so understanding, but I feel awful

-i can't write. I've tried. gods, I've tried. I'm adding small tidbits onto current drafts, but it's so hard. I can't handle angst at all, and that puts several projects on hiatus

-im crying every few days because it hits me that my best friend, my constant companion, will be gone in less than two months

-Alfred is 12ish, I've had him for four years. five in August, but he. won't be here then.

-he was a rescue, so I don't know his true age. everyone, vet included, thinks he may be older.

-vet said nobody would judge me for my decision, and based on Alfred's medical condition and chart, I wasn't making a wrong one

-ive never had to put a cat, or any pet, down before. never had to make the decision myself.

-ive struggled with suicidal thoughts and major anxiety the past few weeks. I'm trying my hbest, but.

-im tired.

tldr: my life is going to hell and will be hell well into the year, and I'm sorry about the sudden halt of fics and posting. I'll try to write what I can when I can, but. no promises, unfortunately

if you got this far, thanks. I appreciate it.

#personal #vent #eeveelotions #dont reblog #pet death mention #suicidal thoughts #abuse #sorry

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jiangwanyin · 3 years

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GETTING TO KNOW ME!

i was tagged by @xie-wang thank you so much!!! and because obviously it took my forever to get round to actually doing this (i'm so sorry) since then i was tagged by @haleths and @manwesbreath too thank you loves!!! 💜

why did you choose your URL?

i don't really remember the process but originally it was for my tolkien sideblog so obviously i wanted something that fits the theme and i love glorfindel and it was the only one i could think of

any side-blogs? name them and why you have them.

none, and after having like ten sideblogs for years i gotta say i'm really enjoying being annoying on main and i'd like to formally apologize to everyone who followed me back here out of loyalty after following only one of my old blogs (most likely the tolkien one) with more specific content and now has to put up with whatever the hell this is

how long have you been on tumblr?

4 years i think?

do you have a queue tag?

bold of you to assume i even use the queue and don't just reblog fifty posts in one go, leave for a couple of hours and then repeat

why did you start your blog in the first place?

this blog specifically because i was tired of my old one and felt like i wasn't really able to be myself on there but i feel like this question is more about how you ended up on tumblr to begin with in which case for me it was seeing star wars textposts reposted on instagram fan accounts back when we were waiting for tlj to be released and i decided to check out the source?

why did you choose your icon?

because it's hanguang-june babeyy

why did you choose your header?

i don't think there even was a thought process behind it, i just wanted something new since i was redoing my theme a bit for pride and it was the only thing i could think of so i went with it

what’s your post with the most notes?

this eowyn one i made for tolkienweek i think?

how many followers do you have?

134

how many people do you follow?

176

have you ever made a shitpost?

at one point i'm sure i have but not recently i don't think?? my sense of humour is basically nonexistent until it's like 4am and i'm too exhausted to have any reservations about saying whatever's on my mind so it's not really my genre

how often do you use tumblr each day?

more than i'm willing to admit

did you have a fight/argument with a blog once?

nothing big, i did use to get into fights when i started out because i was really petty but since then i've either become a better person or just gotten too tired, but i think the last time someone tried to start shit with me was in the led zeppelin fandom for suggesting that we should maybe stop constantly sexualising the band members which didn't go down too well shdvdjsx

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

best way to ensure i won't reblog it <3

do you like tag/ask games?

oh absolutely, nothing like a socially acceptable excuse to talk about myself 😌

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i mean that's a question of perspective but shockingly enough a solid amount of them are? no idea how they even put up with me

do you have a crush on a mutual?

if we've interacted twice i am in love with you i don't make the rules but i would actually die for some of you and you know who you are so no need to expose my blatant favouritism 😌

aand finally i'm tagging @afklints @thcrin @coralinejoines @sapphirecastles and @passingthetime if you feel like doing it? 🌷

#this has been sitting in my drafts for almost a week and i keep adding like two new answers and rephrasing another never finishing it #but here we go thank you again for the tag!!!#tag games

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eidetective · 6 years

Text

a long list of Will Facts:

his favorite book is ravelstein by saul bellows. at any given time there’s a good chance he’s a chapter or two into trying and failing to find the time to properly reread it.

he reads poetry more often than novels in general. robert frost is his favorite, but he reads plenty others. as his verbal memory is as good as his visual memory, he also has a knack for memorizing poems, but no real talent for sounding engaging while reading them.

he also tried to write poetry as a young man, occasionally to impress romantic interests. they were bad. they were really bad.

when he does read prose for entertainment, it’s often either nonfiction books that interest him (with a slant toward true crime) or thrillers. he actually finds it easier to get away from what he does for a living by reading fictionalized—or so distant from him that it doesn’t feel real—stories about it than trying to read about normal people. usually. ravelstein’s still his favorite despite this.

he hunts when it’s the season for it, but only for food and never for sport, or even relaxation. he’s vaguely defensive about telling people this. especially after hobbs. after hobbs he particularly doesn’t like justifying it with the fact that he only kills deer to eat them.

he cooks all his dogs’ food from scratch, but doesn’t often cook anything complicated for himself. he’s not bad by any means, he’s just more likely to put in the effort for the dogs than for himself.

speaking of dogs, he has “does the dog die” bookmarked on his laptop and uses it whenever he decides to watch a movie. he’s more affected by fictional animal death than real animal death. after how many dogs he’s taken in, some old or sick or injured, he’s had no choice but to get desensitized in real life enough to shake it off. movies get to him more for some reason.

and, regarding movies, his favorite movie is the shining. his tastes there slant similarly to his books. action, crime, horror. though he’s perpetually that guy complaining about crime scene procedure and such in crime movies.

will, literally an exemplar of the borderline psychic savant profiler trope: (bitches about the borderline psychic savant profiler trope)

he owns like 10 DVDs at most and only gets really basic cable so if he is watching something it’s probably just whatever’s on pay-per-view.

he doesn’t own an ipod or keep music on his phone. old man at heart that he is, he either listens to vinyl on his record player or to the radio.

he mostly listens to rock from anywhere from the 60s to the 80s, though he’ll also listen to classical or jazz on the radio if he’s trying to focus. he finds music with lyrics distracting when he’s trying to read or write something. he likes classical but his taste is extremely basic.

he has a great memory for lyrics and a good ear, but a very mediocre singing voice. he can carry a tune, but no one really wants him to.

his piano came with the house. he paid the owners 50 bucks for it since they really didn’t want to bother moving it, and he’s taught himself how to play his extremely basic classical favorites decently. the piano’s perpetually out of tune, though.

insect activity as indicator of time of death is his only monograph that’s the standard one taught from in the FBI academy, but he’s published more than a dozen monographs and plenty of papers on forensics and criminal psychology.

...he’s seriously considered going back to school largely because having to correct people when they wrongfully assume he has a doctorate is embarrassing. chilton, however, absolutely knew he didn’t have a doctorate and called him “dr. graham” anyway just to force him to correct him.

after everything with hannibal he suddenly has a lot more journals clamoring to publish his work. freak value and all. when hannibal’s publishing from the BSHCI will gets a lot of offers for them to co-author articles together, which he never responds to.

when it does come to teaching, he’s an infamous hardass. he’s the harshest marker in the academy, he never gives extensions, and he rarely asks for class participation unless it’s meant to humble his trainees a la “does anyone see the clue.” with the exception of a few students who get good marks and insist he’s “strict but fair” standard opinion of him is usually somewhere between “fear and respect” and “FUCK that guy.”

a lot of trainees still have the hots for him though. fuck professor graham but fuck professor graham, ya know.

he doesn’t give “extra credit” any more than he gives extensions, though not for lack of trainees trying.

alana reads through all his lecture notes for him after he does his first pass at them, because they tend to come out a lot less coherent than he thinks they are when he writes them, especially if he’s lecturing on a specific case he really got in the headspace of.

alana: (circles will’s fifteenth complex metaphor in red pen and writes a note saying “no one knows what this means”)

he repays her by having a hot cup of coffee waiting for her the mornings she’s guest lecturing, whenever it’s humanly possible for him to do this, even if he technically doesn’t have to be at quantico until after her.

which is pretty easy for him comparatively because he’s a morning person and, before encephalitis and lots of overnight flights to crime scenes started screwing with his schedule, pretty much always got up by 7 AM at the latest.

however, he’s very good at acting like a disgruntled not-morning person who isn’t human until it’s after 11 and he’s had four cups of coffee, because that’s a socially acceptable reason to be pissed off and refuse to talk to anyone in the mornings and he’s not passing that up.

he has a lot of preserved insect specimens from his forensic entomology research still around his house, mostly on the walls in his home office (with more in boxes.)

he has a lot of everything around his house, really, he’s terrible at throwing things away after a childhood spent moving from place to place and not being able to keep much for himself. his life is pretty confined to the ground floor of his house, while much of the upstairs is basically used as storage. there’s boxes up there he hasn’t unpacked since he moved to virginia.

he sleeps in the living room so he can hear anyone driving up outside. he has things laid out that he can jump out of bed and grab his shotgun en route to the door at a moment’s notice.

#headcanons.#a topic of conversation in psychiatric circles. | about the muse #d/ont r/eblog #i'll probably add more to these in the future but this has been sitting in my drafts for like two weeks #and keeps getting longer #and i feel like i could just keep adding to it forever and never feel like i've covered everything #i've accumulated a lot of tiny details in almost 5 years of writing this fucker is what i'm saying

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jxngh · 3 years

Note

Hey! It's me again with another request. 😅

What about a Hoseok that everyone underestimate and think that just because he's so adorable, a true gentleman and even cheesy that they don't think he can be good at bed.

So, some girls make a bet (idk let's pretend their work colleagues or they're in college, what suits you better) what they don't know is, that Hoseok somehow, actually finds out about this bet, but he's not bother at all, on the contrary, he's beyond thrilled since he's been wanted to fuck hard OC, so this is his chance to prove her how wrong she actually is.

The player will be end up being played.

A good boy with a little a very dirty secret behind doors. What do you think? 👀

hii!! this has been on my drafts for weeks and just finished it! hope you'll enjoy ✨ thank you so much for 600+ followers btw 🥺

if you enjoy my content please consider buying me a coffee 🥺🤍

your sweet boss is made a party for the ones who freshly started work with you. you didn't expect anything less from a gentleman as him. he was always disciplined but never not supportive and adorable. sometimes even cheesy.

you and your work colleagues were in the party. and after some food and drinks - and not seeing him around - they basically started gossipping. you were trying to be friends with the new colleagues but you all were in the same conversation so you kinda had to be in it.

"soo... what do you guys think about your new boss?" asked one of your close colleagues. she loved gossipping and stuff like that, was so fun all the time.

"he's super sweet...i don't know if it's because we're new to be honest." said the new girl. and the new boy added "i feel like he's a gentleman but...we don't know how is he in bed right?" he made a funny voice. you all laughed.

"bet he's not good at bed, seems too soft." your fun friend said while she's taking another bite from the food. and she turned to you before asking. "what do you think, __?"

"i don't know..." you looked at her, then the others. "he seems vanilla but i can't really say if he's bad."

they talked about it a little then the conversation changed.

you were still thinking about it tho. the thing you didn't know was that he heard your talk while he's getting another drink from a table closer to you guys.

after a week from the party, to check your work, he came to your room. at least that was what you thought. you thought that you did something wrong and he was here to show you how to fix it. as he did multiple times before.

but no, here he was showing you the plans of the new design of the office from the computer, too close to your face while he's behind the chair you're sitting at. you couldn't focus on the screen because of him.

and you couldn't decide if it's smell that is making your mind dizzy or the tone of his voice. there was definitely something different today.

"are you even listening __?" he asked and that was when you really started listening. your attention was on his side profile which is looking like he's a painting.

"oh uhm yes. sorry, i got distracted." you confessed.

that put a grin to his face. he came closer to you, leaving a deep breath. you felt small tingles on your neck.

"you're one of my best workers and you always listen carefully what i say, __. is something wrong?" he asked you, eyes traveling to your lips for a millisecond. the gap between you two was so small, you could feel his capturing smell making your mind dumb.

"n-nothing." you stuttered, trying too hard to look at him in the eyes. your mind was screaming at you that you should get back but you just stayed still.

he took a deep breath and tilted his head.

"is this vanilla?"

wha- what was he talking about? why did he just highlight the word? did he hear you talking? shit. you were going to be fired if he did. plus you didn't want him to hear those words, you just said it. ugh.

your eyes widened but you tried to act like he's talking about something else.

"what is?" you looked up at him, his breathtaking features. the grey suit was covering his body so well. damn, you thought.

he looked at you and talked before slightly smirking.

"the colour, __. what else could it be?"

you looked down and gulped before looking at him again.

"i d-don't know sir." you felt your cheeks getting hotter, shit. what was happening to you? you weren't exactly a shy type of woman but the sudden hint made you flustered.

he held the armrests of your chair and turned you to face him, then he gently nipped your chin and made you look up.

"why are you getting red? tell me what's on your mind, baby." he said staying still and leaving only few centimeters between your faces.

him calling you that sent a flutter to your heart. what happened to the sweetest boss you had? and more importantly, why did you want him so bad with just a word?

"thought you were thinking that i'm vanilla, but here you are getting even more red with a 'baby'..."

fuck. he knew. he knew what you've said. you wanted to speak and tell him that he misunderstood or something, at least try to fix this someway. but you couldn't, not when you were that close. you opened your mouth but no words came out. and your brain focused on his breath brushing your lips, he was looking amazing.

"i can prove you wrong baby. bet you'll only think and talk about me." he said before brushing his lips to yours for a second. you closed your eyes. then he watched your face with lust filled gaze of his.

your hand found his neck and pulled him close to a kiss. it was intense, wasn't so slow but not fast either. you felt his hands coming down and holding your waist, then down and grabbing your ass while he sucked your bottom lip. after that he lifted you and made you sat on your table.

he started to give your ass hard squeezes while groaning into your mouth.

"mmmh " he said before spreading your legs and rolling his hips against yours.

he was so hard and you were sure your panties were wet after that kiss. and now he was sucking marks to your neck to collarbone. you loved the feeling of getting marked by him. the way he touched you were mind-numbing.

"mmph, please." you moaned, not able to opening your eyes from the feeling.

he smirked and held your waist tightly. then rolled his hips to yours, it was harder this time.

"name it baby. please what?" he asked leaving a peck to the sweet spot under your ear. it sent tingles to your body, you held his head and pulled him closer. now you were face to face, his eyes were half lidded and full with lust, looking deeply into your ones.

"please sir, prove me wrong." you said breathily.

he smiled for a second, then kissed your lips hungrily. then with a low moan he sent his tongue to meet yours. and yeah,he was so good at it. it was like his tongue is dancing on yours. you couldn't help but whimper.

you felt his hands getting under your dress, playing with the thin waistband while he leaves low grunts to your mouth. the vibration was making you feel some type of way. your whimpers were telling the same thing.

your hands found his belt and unbuckled it without breaking the intense kiss you've having with him. he slid your panties aside and started to rub his hand to your wetness.

"fuck." he breathed havily. "all of this is for me? fuck baby, you make me wanna ruin you."

you smiled and palmed his erection, getting low curses from him. you could feel him twitching.

"i'm ready sir." you said, looking at his hungry expression. your hands were resting on the waistband of his underwear. you slowly pulled it down.

he was long and pretty. and definitely ready to fuck. the gray suit he wore was looking so rich, and the fact that he still had it on was a turn on to you.

he didn't waste anymore time and pushed himself to you in one thrust. your moans and his grunts mixed. he was holding your waist and sucking your neck.

"ah sir, move. please."after checking your face he continued his movement slowly. you could feel every inch of him, he was so deep and filling you so well.

he started to move faster, making you jolt with every push of his hips. you needed to get support from your hands, holding the table tightly.

"such a pretty baby, spreading herself for me on her table, crying under me." he said pulling himself back almost fully. "still thinking i'm vanilla?" he said and pushed himself harder, finding the spot easily. and now he was fucking you rough.

"n-no sir, ohh yes." you replied and felt your high coming, by the way his dick twitches inside of you after every moan of yours you could tell he's close too.

he kept his pace, made you lose control of your moans while he leaves low grunts to your neck, whispers dirty stuff to your ear.

"come as i say pretty." he said and gave deep thrusts, getting faster and going slower and deeper again. your pussy started to clench like crazy. if you weren't being held by him you'd probably fall because how hard he fucks.

"come." he said and you both came, you were a moaning mess.

he pulled himself out and fixed your dress after fixing his suit, getting ready to leave.

"guess i proved it all wrong, huh?" he said, watching your not so out of bliss face. it was a strong high.

"i can't believe i thought that sir." you said looking at his lips involuntarily. you were still between your desk and him. he moved closer and kissed you slowly. then his hands found the marks he left on your skin.

"everybody will know who left these marks on you baby. you can cover it up... or you can keep it and i can take you a proper date tonight. cause this wasn't just sex for me. what'd you say?"

his words made your heart flutter. you couldn't help but smile.

"of course."

taglist : @nglmrk - @allora1233 - @sizzlebangtan4 - @youmyjhope - @raiiisstuff - @alexmin606 - @bookfrog242

.·´ tell me your thoughts about it in here please / can be general talk too i missed y'all 🥺 + ask to be in my taglist!

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writingdotcoffee · 3 years

Text

#208: Write Like a Painter

The initial sketches that an artist does in preparation for a painting look almost nothing like the finished product. For writers, the lines are a lot more blurry. A draft — the first or the very last — is always just a bunch of words on paper.

When you're reading a story, you may imagine the writer sitting at his desk, writing those beautiful sentences down exactly as you see them. But that rarely ever happens. What the author wrote down in the first draft has been rewritten and edited many times before publication. In fact, you probably wouldn't even recognise the story by reading a passage from the first draft.

Writers and painters have a lot in common when it comes to the creative process. Here's what you can learn about writing by watching painters at work.

Working in Layers

Most painters start with a rough sketch. They erase it so it's barely visible and do another one on top. Then they start blocking in the colours and adding more and more detail.

The initial sketches guide the artist's hand later on when she's adding new layers on top. Without the sketches, it would be very hard for the artist to create the image. Even though you won't see it in the finished work, the sketch is an essential part of the process.

Think of the first draft as the initial sketch — something to guide you when shaping the story to its final form. By the time you're finished, you may have removed, replaced or rearranged every single word. That doesn't make the first draft any less valuable. The finished story wouldn't exist without it.

The Importance of the First Draft

As I said, the first draft is critically important, but it also isn't. The details aren't important at all. A lot of the polishing and editing writers do while working on the first draft can be a waste of time. Often, you'll have to cut entire chapters.

A painter won't spend hours adding detailed shading to a sketch only to cover it with a layer of paint. That'd be ridiculous! As a writer, it's much easier to fall into the same trap.

Painters use the initial sketches to set the perspective of the image and find the right shapes. Writing is much the same — the important things in the first draft are the broad strokes that will define the shape of the narrative. You want to get your main characters in and hit all the crucial plot points. But there's no need to agonise about what does your protagonist order at Starbucks in scene 12.

That's not to say that the details don't matter. They can make or break a story, but they aren't necessary when you're working on the first draft.

It's ok to leave things unfinished or keep writing even if you can't decide or simply don't know something. Skip it, wing it, do whatever it takes so you can keep going. The first draft just has to exist. You can fix anything later.

Many writers (myself included) spend way more time and energy on the first draft than is necessary. I'm not entirely sure why, to be honest. Perhaps our brain gets somehow confused because the first draft looks a lot like the final draft. They're both just words on a page, and yet, they couldn't be more different.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Radek 👋. I’m a writer, software engineer and the founder of Writing Analytics — an editor and writing tracker designed to help you beat writer’s block and create a sustainable writing routine.

I publish a post like this every week. Want to know when the next one comes out? Sign up for my email list below to get it right in your inbox.

(I won’t spam you or pass your email to a third party. You can unsubscribe at any time.)

Past Editions

#207: On Being Stuck, August 2021

#206: 4 Reasons to Keep a Journal, August 2021

#205: It’s just Writing, July 2021

#204: What Will Your Story Look Like?, July 2021

#203: It Will Take Longer Than You Think, July 2021

#writing #writers #write #writing tips #writing advice #amwriting #writing life #writeblr #writing update #personal update #me #update #writing.coffee

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1kook · 4 years

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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gucciwins · 4 years

Text

it’s your birthday?

As luck would have it you once again find yourself in a breakout room with Harry

Word count: 3296

A/N: Hello friends, it’s a new semester and it felt only right to continue breakout room, a story that was well loved by you. The inspiration once again came to me during class and also because it’s Harry’s birthday. Thank you to the lovely @soullikestyles for reading this over. Here it is, enjoy!!!

I hope you love this, it is a continuation from Breakout Room

Please shoot me a message of what you thought!!!!

i love you, take care xx

_____

It's the start of a new semester. It's safe to say you did not make any friends last semester due to this ongoing pandemic, but what you did manage to get was a 3.9 G.P.A for the Fall semester. It was probably because you did not leave your apartment, and when you did, it was to go grocery shopping with your roommate, who would be dead without you because, as she liked to put it, you're the chef, and she's the taster.

Well, you maybe did make one friend.

Harry Styles.

He was the person to talk to you during a zoom breakout room in your women's gender studies course.

Sure, you were never in the same room again, but you might or might not have pinned his face during one of the professor's long ramblings that is no longer related to the course.

He was pretty to look at; you would never deny that.

No, with the floppy curls that he almost always seemed to run his hand through, then stopping when one of his rings got caught in a knotted ringlet. His camera would instantly turn off, and in thirty seconds, he was back as if nothing had happened. The glasses framed his face just right, making his eyes look soft and inviting. Also made his dimples stand out. He almost always wore a different colored cardigan. Your favorite from the semester was when he wore a multicolored cardigan. That looks like it was knitted; there was a hole by his heart. Honestly, you were hoping he had, would have made him even more endearing.

Also, might one day ask him to make you one, or he could even teach you. You're a fast learner and have patience.

He's got a great choice in clothing from what you was able to observe in such a short time—also a lovely personality.

After his initial email, you decided to answer, thus creating a chain of messages back and forth. He was honestly funny, and that was just on paper. He had asked for her number and said no, and he respected that. It doesn't mean they never helped each other in the class; Harry asking for more help than Y/N. She sent him over her notes and explained the readings he found harder to grasp.

As soon as finals week hit, she received her last email from him with the subject as Goodbye. It took you by surprise, and you erased the draft you had waiting for him that had your phone number wanting to keep talking to him. Still, clearly, he thought of them as just classmates for the semester, so without even opening his last email, you trashed it.

You felt guilty about it, so you then transferred it to your archives, where it sits with other unwanted emails.

_____

The holidays are over, and since you could not make the trip home, you celebrated with Amy, your roommate. You both help each other buy your family's presents, looking for the best discounts and adding extra items to get the free shipping. Together, well, mostly you as she handed you pieces of tape you wrapped present after present in brown wrapping paper. It was harder to tear and more comfortable to decorate in any way you wanted. On each box, it had everyone's name written in beautiful handwriting, courtesy of you. Then you would add snowflakes or stripes to make it stand out.

It was a success from their looks when each gift was open through the zoom call.

The month break flew by, and the next thing you knew, it was time to be back at your desk for hours of learning. It was fun until it wasn't sure there was a lot to look forward to, but you would miss sleeping all day and eating snacks in bed with no fear of forgetting to submit an assignment.

This semester you had four major courses. Psychology of Personality and Psychology of Aging were the two courses you were most looking forward to. You decided on taking the women's gender studies class called Politics of Sexuality. You had gotten the recommendation from the department's head to take it and did so without a second thought. Yes, fifteen units was a lot, but you were close to graduating, and you knew you could handle it.

The first week flew by because it was merely going over the syllabus. You had your camera on, but you did not bother to look at your other classmates. Sasha, a fellow person in your major, would be your study partner as she had been all semester. Sasha might not always be in the class section, but she did take the same professors and courses. It makes studying and taking notes easier. You know you won't always have Sasha, but having a study partner has ever made you do better.

February 1st. The start of the second week of the semester.

You woke up at seven, got the tea that Amy had ready for you, and were sitting at your desk by eight. Your professor droned on about the first chapter of the book. You felt confident knowing you understood the significant points.

It's 11:30, and your second course of the day is going to start. You were not looking forward to the class simply because Dr. Rossi had warned you he would be putting you into breakout rooms of two. That person would be your partner for the semester. You had a project due at the end of the semester, and he wanted you to be acquainted with someone rather than having a person working alone.

You sat there, Baby Yoda ceramic mug in hand, as you waited for your breakout room to load and to see who you were destined to work with for the next fourteen weeks.

There was a knock on your door that distracted you from seeing the video of someone else load.

"Sorry, I know you're in class, but I was wondering when lunch was to see how big of a snack I should have." Amy shoots you a small smile.

"No worries, Ames, I'm out at 12:45 and will need half an hour to cook, so roughly 1:30. Is that okay?" You tell her feeling a little awful, making her wait.

"It's perfect. Have a good class." Amy shuts the door.

As you hear the click, you turn back to your computer, and they're staring at you in a lavender cardigan with a white shirt underneath is the one and only Harry Styles.

His curls are shorter, meaning he recently got a haircut, and they are just growing back. You wished he had let it grow out, wanting to see how much more ruly they would have gotten.

You feel your face heat up, remembering you did not do your hair, instead of letting it sit messily in a low ponytail, small hair framing your hair. You were sure the black sweatshirt you had one had a hummus stain but too afraid to look down to check. You weren't even aware he was in this class; it shows you should be paying attention more to your classmates.

He shoots you a small smile, and you grimace, trying to force one out, but you're still a bit shocked.

You see his microphone go white, meaning he was about to speak. You leaned forward in anticipation, a bit desperate to hear his smooth accent through your computer speakers.

"Hello, it's been a while." Harry raises his glasses to hold back his hair.

You reach forward and unmute yourself. "Hello, Harry. It has been a while. It's a new year and everything." You joke.

He chuckles, scratching his chin. You aren't sure what to do; it was never this awkward the first time you chatted.

"Guess we're partners, huh."

"Apparently." You sigh, a bit loud, forgetting he can hear you.

"Ouch, don't need to sound too excited." He tells you not at all hiding his frown.

"No, I didn't." You stop not knowing how to go back from that. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

He nods, not saying anything more, and you take it as a sign to continue.

"I-i, well, after our last class ended, I figured that was that. You said goodbye in the last email, so I figured that was the end of our friendship, if you can even call it that."

"I thought my email would give the opposite impression, but not everything can translate as smoothly when talking." He tells you, which causes you to pause.

"Your email literally said goodbye," You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He hides his smile, "My subject said goodbye, the content said quite the opposite. You did read it, right?"

You duck your head, not allowing yourself to meet his eye even through a computer screen, too embarrassed to be caught. "Well, no, I didn't. Hurt my feelings, just seeing the goodbye." You look up and see his eyes soften, giving you just a bit more courage to continue. "I've always struggled to make friends, I have like three good friends, and it's hard putting myself out there, and I didn't actually if you considered me a friend or not."

"Y/N" He breathes out your name.

You stop him before he can continue. "Do you mind if I read it now?"

Harry shakes his head.

You restore down the zoom and open up your Gmail on the split-screen. You find it reasonably quickly; you look up at him to see him patiently sitting back chipping at his nails. They are a pastel yellow; it makes you smile, knowing just yesterday you went from that color to a deep red.

[email protected]

Subject: Goodbye

Y/N,

It's been enjoyable emailing back and forth. I honestly would not have passed this class without you. I think you are brilliant and if I had you in every course, I would finish with A's in them all. So, thank you for having the patience to teach me.

Also, thank you for being my friend. I know we mostly talked about school work. Still, you did help me decide on what coat to buy for my sister, so I know that makes us friends, and I did help you get that switch for your little brother. (That was like trying to buy floor tickets for Lady Gaga.)

On another note, after emailing for twelve weeks, I was wondering if I could have your number. I would like the chance to give you a call and formally ask you on a date. I know we're in the middle of a pandemic, and dating is hard, but we can do zoom dates before we try in person.

I understand if it's a no, but I am really grateful to have met you.

Your friend (although I do want to try to be more)

Harry Styles

City Pointe Apt 32 (in case you want to send a care package, I would gladly return the favor)

"Oh, Harry," You inhale, "I'm so sorry."

"No worries." He shrugs.

You pause, thinking your next words. "I live in Rose Villa." Those were not the words you wanted to say, but you don't take it back.

"That's across the street from my building." He gasps. "We could have run into each other."

You nod. "Small world."

Harry brings his focus back to something you skipped over. "I realize you didn't mention the part of asking you on a date."

"Oh, I figured you over that now. It's been well over a month since I ignored your email." You grimace, starting to feel awful about it all over again.

"I guess it was email abandonment this time." He jokes.

You laugh, and it gets Harry laughing as well. He was always good at that, making you laugh and not be so serious even if he didn't know it.

"Y/N," Harry's voice was strong, no signs of laughter in his trace. You lock eyes as best you can through a computer screen. "I would still very much like to take you on a date."

A date with Harry.

You want to say yes, but it's like you're frozen.

"Can I say something else before you give me an answer?" You nod, waiting for him to go on. "Sarah Jones, do you know her?"

Sarah Jones, you rack your brain trying to place her.

The theater composer. She's written original tracks for the theatre department for the original plays they've done and remakes. She's won countless awards.

Sarah even won the talent show. Played a killer drum solo that no one else could ever think of topping.

If you're honest, she's the definition of your girl crush.

"We follow each other on social media. We met at a paint night; she was really easy to talk to." You tell him, remembering how sweet she was to you when she saw you walk in, and just as you were about to walk out, she introduced herself to you, asking to sit with you.

He nods. "Sarah is my roommate's girlfriend. Mitch and Sarah practically live together; he's so in love with her it truly is the sweetest thing. Back to the point, she overheard me talking about you to Mitch and spoke how she knew you. Then I proceeded to stalk your Instagram on her account. I hope that's not weird."

You laugh, and it causes Harry to calm down, "Not weird at all. I would have done the same thing, but as you can see, I rarely upload anything."

"Well, the things you do have, I think, are wonderful." He rambles on explaining how your beach photo on a bike with a pretty pink basket was one of his favorites and how cute you look wearing sweaters.

As endearing as Harry was being, you decided to put him out of his misery. "Harry," you interrupt.

"Yes."

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

"You would?" He gasps in surprise.

"Yes."

"That's fantastic. I think this is the best birthday gift I could have received." He tells you, but you're stuck on the last thing he said.

"It's your birthday?"

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Yes."

"Happy Birthday, Harry." You tell him softly, a big smile on your face.

A blush overtakes his face; you can tell he wishes to cover up his face with hands but holds back from doing so. "Thank you."

"Do you have any plans?"

"No, well. Mitch and Sarah are coming over for lunch in a bit. Then they are off to study at Sarah's for the week. Her roommates are gone for the week."

You frown, not liking that he'll spend the rest of his birthday alone.

"Would you-never mind" You stop yourself from being able to invite yourself over to celebrate with him?

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever you wanted to say, I wouldn't judge you, love." His voice was soft and reassuring.

"Well, I'd love to come over and hang out with you if that's okay. I can make us dinner, I make delicious enchiladas. Also, my carrot cake is to die for."

Harry is surprised at her offer but nods his head quickly. "That sounds wonderful, but you don't have to cook for me. We can order takeout."

She shakes her head. "Consider it my gift to you."

"Well, okay. Is six okay for you?" He bites his lip, not believing this is happening.

"Perfect."

You sit there smiling at each other.

When a message pops up overhead, "You have five minutes left before we join back as a group."

Your eyes go wide, having forgotten you were in class. "We didn't even discuss the assignment."

Harry shakes his head in laughter, a smile spreads over your face. He has an adorable laugh that just rings through your ears, and you can't wait to hear it in person.

"We've got time, now that it seems we'll be getting to know each other better."

You relax, settling a bit, you have weeks before the assignment is due.

"I'll email you my number, love. Easier to communicate for later."

"Sounds great." You respond.

_____

It's five-fifty, and you're standing outside his door. You're more than a little nervous. You're wearing high waisted jeans paired with a black off the shoulder top with floral embroidered sleeves. You decided against a sweater knowing the short walk would keep you warm enough. Your mask is red, with three small hearts stitched on the lower right side. Perfect for February.

You shift the items in your hand to the right and lift your hand up to knock. After three gentle knocks, you hear footsteps and take a step back.

"Hi," Harry breathes out, a big smile on his face.

"Hello, Harry, happy birthday."

"Thank you." He smiles wide, blessing you with his dimples. Definitely look better in person. "Please come in." He grabs some of the items from your hand and allows you to step in before locking the door behind you.

"Your mask is lovely. Did you make it?"

"I did!" You share excitedly. "My roommate, Amy, and I spent lots of our free time making a different kind. We took old shirts we no longer wanted and used for the material. It was a lot of trial and error, but we're pretty solid at it now. My embroidery could use some work, but I think it's lovely.

"It really is. Would you make me one?" He asks, staring at you as you pocket your mask. No longer needing it in his home.

"Yes, I'll send you pictures of the fabric I have, or you could come over, and I can teach you as well." You tell him, excited at the prospect.

"Sounds like a wonderful date." You nod, feeling your body get warm at the word date because today could also classify as a date.

Harry knocks you out of your head when calling your name. "Turned the oven on like you requested." He informs you.

"Thank you, my mom showed me how to make them, but I learned about the melted cheese on my own. She wasn't a big fan of it, but everyone else I know loves it, so I hope you will as well."

Harry grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. "I'm sure it's wonderful." He bumps your shoulder gently. "Go finish up; I'll set the table."

He pushes you into the kitchen, and you go in and place your stuff. Harry is whistling, settling down on the table two glasses and two forks when you turn back around towards him.

Harry turns around just in time for you to wrap your hands around his waist. You fit perfectly in his arms, taking in his musky scent. "Happy birthday, Harry." You whisper against his chest.

He squeezes you tighter, leaning his head on top of yours. "Thank you, love."

He pulls back, holding you by your shoulders. A big smile on his face, you reciprocate it feeling his happiness warm your heart.

"Run along now; I'm starving." He jokes.

You walk backward, creating distance; as his left-hand trails down your right hand slowly until he's touching your fingertips, do you pull away. Although you, more than anything, wanted to hold his hand. You want to feel the weight of it in yours; you want to know if his hands are soft or calloused. How cool his rings will feel against your palm. All in due time.

"I'm happy to be here."

"Me too, love. Me too."

It's safe to say you were more than luckily going to have yourself a valentine for the first time in a long time.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry styles fluff #zoom university #zoom online #harry styles writing #harry styles uni #my writing #harry styles fanfic

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