#try some new stuff and get out of my comfort zone... but like with soup

[mokeonn]

Since my mental health has been getting so much better lately, I'm honestly super excited for 2024. I'm not gonna prematurely say "2024 is my year" but I'm definitely excited to see where I'm going from here, since it definitely seems like there's nowhere to go but up.

[searchforahero]

thank you for the tag, @necrotic-nephilim!!!

rules: answer and tag nine people you want to get to know better and catch up with.

favorite color: urg this ones so hard... #FF0000 red or a desaturated blue like #9699BA

last song: big city nights by scorpions

currently reading:

checked out frankenstein and hamlet from the library for a re-read and have not touched either. which is evil because i adore both of them.

trying to read IT and pride and prejudice, which has not been happening.

for ongoing comic series i'm on like issue 30 of teen titans (2003) and have been randomly picking and choosing issues of robin (1993) to read.

i stepped out of my preboot comfort zone to read robin war recently and loved duke so i'm planning to go through and read a bunch of stuff with him in it, but it's been slow going because of work

reading the 1988 catwoman miniseries right now

currently watching:

watching supernatural with my mom while i'm home for the summer. we're on season 2 but it's slow because of my job

started teen wolf but that's also significantly slowed because of work. i'm on like ep 3

re-watching assassination classroom

recently started chobits and hellsing but have been incredibly slow with both, again because of work.

re-watched saw saturday :]

currently craving: literally any soup or curry i am not picky

coffee or tea: i don't drink either (except tea when i'm sick). if i had to choose i'd go with an iced coffee with some sort of chocolate flavoring though lol

hobby to try: i want to get into visual novels. i've been trying but i have no free time </3 also 3d modeling. i know how to do it sorta because of college but i'd like to do it more for fun.

current au: for like AU AU i've been thinking about an AU where jason and tim don't recognize each other out of the masks initially (don't ask how still trying to figure that one out) and tim runs a d&d (or whatever the batman copyright safe ttrpg is called i can't be bothered to check rn) campaign out of the back room at a local comic shop and he's starting a new campaign and looking for new players and jason ends up joining (i'm still trying to figure out a justification for this don't ask why jason is playing ttrpgs in between rounds of beheadings. as you can see this AU is not well thought out), and they end up becoming close friends outside of their masks while they become increasingly obsessed with each other in their masks. this is mostly an excuse for secret identity drama and to have tim flirt with jason through NPCs so don't think too hard about it.

also this isn't a pokemon blog but i'm always building on my most dearly beloved pokemon AU, mostly been writing stuff up about the complicated dynamic between lance and blue, the consequences of human/pokemon fusion (specifically serena fusing with yveltal), the dynamic between leon and rose, as well as leon's relationship with the other young champions, among other things. this AU isn't really one story, it's just my massive list of pokemon headcanons all shoved into one AU.

i don't know if i can come up with nine people to tag ough let me try though: @pumpkin-memories @thearrowavenger @redhoodinternaldialectical @snakeboot @crow-eyed @hesayshesgotboyfriend okay i didn't quite get to nine but i tried :] i hope you guys don't mind me tagging yall in this :] if you do it i'll be excited to see the responses :]]

[snoodls]

2023 art retrospective! ✨

I can't believe I'm writing one of these again already; where did this year go??

Looking back on this past year, wow! I can see and feel my confidence with my art growing tremendously. Finally it feels like I'm comfortable with tools and the process. I'm not totally lost when I open a canvas; there's a sense of reassurance that I can do it, and if I can't, I will figure it out along the way. 

Overall, finding time, space, and energy for art proves to be both exceedingly difficult and yet the only thing that I want to do when I get home. I know logically this is mostly because of my job--new office, new boss, new responsibilities, new position--and a few huge life transitions, but when you're someone who makes things who is not making things, it can be rough seas in the brain soup.

I think a major theme for this year was getting back into creative habits. It's an annual tradition at this point to nosedive into an artist's block death spiral. February into March into April...were all lean months for my creativity. Intense job/interpersonal stuff plus news of two of my big art inspirations both suddenly dying...the world hit me hard in these months.

I owe a lot to Lynda Barry's Making Comics for giving me my spark back and for helping to heal a part of me that I didn't realize was so broken and bruised. I remember when I picked the book up around my birthday; the cashier said the book made her cry and I didn't understand. I asked why, and she said "It's just healing." I was skeptical, but now I get it. I've been observing more, giving more credence to my creativity, and being less afraid of making a "bad" drawing.

Now I've been focusing on creating portfolio pieces that I'm proud of and happy to display in my space, as well as finally getting around to my hoard of accumulated characters. I've been picking away at my personal site and uploading much more to toyhouse to keep track of them all.

The last month or so has been completely consumed by making gifts, meeting deadlines, finishing owed art, continuing special projects 👀...so I haven't had much of a presence here. I've been doing lots of traditional art--getting back into acrylic painting and hopefully back into oils soon. I started pine needle basket weaving and have made 2.25 baskets so far! it's a long, tedious, menial process, but it's so satisfying to have something physical (and functional) that you've worked on for hours. I've also been living in my sketchbook the past week--practicing with pens, markers, and practicing itself. I've been conditioned to have the sketchbook be a precious space, and I am trying my best to break out of that. If you want to see some of my traditional sketches and offline stuff, I made a little collage for this year's picks too. ↬ sketchbook 2023

I think for next year I'd like to continue finding better balances--in how I spend my time, how I can spend my time...and to continue pushing myself out of my comfort zone with experiments and messiness. I want to continue being creative in so many more mediums--more film photography and video, hopefully!

In my sketchbook I wrote this meandering paragraph that I want to share: this is a living document--of breath, of movement, not of polished stasis. I reject capitalistic notions of being "industrious" "beautiful" "marketable" "pristine" and on public display at all times. I am not a product to be consumed; neither is my work. I embrace the messy, the incomplete, and the ugly. I refuse to tailor myself to an unseen audience. We thirst for the drafts, the brushstrokes, the incomplete works of the famous. Is this because, in our minds, this makes them more human? Less untouchably great? Or do we see ourselves in the struggles and not in the finished pieces? How charitable is that reading? What I would give to see my inspirations' marker streaks, their 12yo sparkledogs. Framing these byproducts--there's that word again--as art reframes them, reframes myself. To be human is to mark-make, to scribble in the dirt. I hear they reconstruct civilizations from stuff like that.

All my best to you & yours, and happy new year!

art featured: garden ghost | Vagabonds - Aqua Fria River | 6040 elk? | i'll still be around | blue sky | umm hihihi omg hi ...? | porcelain | nothing to remember | Lacquer | river bed-time

[juliasjustanidiot]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗻 | c!technoblade

the scent of estrogen - c!technoblade x reader

synopsis: trying to tell technoblade that you’re pregnant is much harder than it seems. especially when he’s already got a great big deal of stress of his back.

no pronouns mentioned, suggests female.

tw: pregnancy, vomit, uhhhh that’s it?

wc: 1.3K

you gazed at your partner with a big grin, watching as he looked through all of his chests, restocking his potions and fed his emotional support polar bear, steve. ecstatic, you couldn’t wait to tell him the big news that you had for him. being out in the middle of a tundra biome, not a lot of stuff happened, so when stuff as big as this comes up, you get giddy.

“what?” techno said rather gruffly, turning around slightly as he noticed your staring. his tone wiped the grin right off your face, a sinking feeling residing in your stomach.

“never mind,” you look away defeated. he sighed and went back to his work of brewing potions. 

being shut down immediately before you could get a word out hurt. it stripped any excitement you had. but you then remembered the news again and can’t help yourself but start smiling all goofily. surely he’d be just as excited as you. 

you subtly glanced over at techno, checking to see if he was still busy. there he sat, crushing up some blaze rods and sprinkling the powder in the strange purple liquid. 

you were surprised he hadn’t caught on already. i mean surely he can tell something is up right? doesn’t the extra estrogen give off some sort of pregnancy scent? you thought, contemplating when you were going to pop out the big news.

he turned again to get a look at you, seeing your smile again.“what? why do you keep looking at me like that?” techno responded to the staring after he caught your glance again, seeming even more agitated. your smile was snatched once again, now was not the time to tell him the one thing that might change his life forever.

“god, keep your panties on,” you said in a bitter tone, matching his own. “i was just going to…uh….let you know that… we need more potatoes! yes! we’ve run low and i want to cook something with potatoes, so i’m going to go get some,” you made up with your oh so creative mind.

“we have a whole sack full-”

“love you! bye!” you said, interjecting while giving him a kiss on the cheek and made a beeline for the door. you let out a sigh as you closed the door and headed off for what was assumed to be a trip to get potatoes. 

you had to tell him at some point, but how? it’s not like it was planned or anything. it wasn’t even clear that he wanted a baby. all of these doubts and worries crowded your head as you headed out, walking a little ways away from the cabin making your way to the potato farm.

your feelings were all mixing around inside of you like you were a pot of soup thanks to all the hormones pumping through your veins. all of those feelings made you queasy but you kept going because you had nothing better unless you wanted to stare at your boyfriend and hope that he could sense your big secret. 

on your journey, you noticed someone was already there. it was phil. you hadn’t exactly planned on telling anyone else yet. you decided to head back home and avoid conversation for now, but then he started calling out to you. “damnit,” you said under your breath as you turned to him with the biggest neighborly smile you could force. “hey, phil!” you forced out, “it’s so nice to see you!”

“what brings you here?” he said, coming over. you noticed he had his armor on along with his satchel. he held a pickaxe in hand which told you he had just gone mining. “i’m on a scavenger hunt, actually, phil. supposedly, my long lost father’s netherite collection that he left for me in scavenger hunt format. it will essentially make me the richest person in the land.”

“really?” phil said with a hint of interest.

“no, i’m here to pick potatoes, genius,” you said, over this social interaction. you just wanted to pick your potatoes and leave, after all you were still feeling a bit sick. maybe it was the fact that techno seemed all angry and annoyed at you, or maybe it was the actual pregnancy itself.

“funny, you’re really funny,” he said ironically, picking the biggest potato in front of him and tossed it up and down as you began to get a little sweaty in the cold cold tundra. “are you okay? you look pale,” he mentioned while turning his head slightly, examining your face. right then and there all of your breakfast escaped from your mouth onto the dirt and a couple of unfortunate potatoes.

“holy jesus, that tasted like crap,” you wheezed out while you wiped your mouth with your hand, feeling absolutely awful.

“geez, okay, what are you, pregnant?” he joked, rushing over to you and placing a comforting hand on your back. you stare at him wide-eyed and intense. he could definitely smell the pregnancy hormones. you could see his face drop in awe after he saw the pure anxiety on yours. “oh god, y/n, are you pregnant?!” he let out a small wail.

“yes, so shut up and get me some water and a place to sit down before i lose another meal,” you ordered him, still feeling extremely ill. morning sickness is a bitch.

you both walked over to phil’s cabin, across from techno’s, and he found you a seat on an old chair and went to go and get a bottle of water. you sat, zoned out, still trying to get over the fact that someone knew before you got to tell your baby daddy that he is a baby daddy. rubbing your fingers on your temples, you mentally pulled yourself together and prepared to practically be on a talk show where all your personal life gets leaked out into the open.

phil walked in with a big glass filled with water. before he could even open his mouth, you blurted, “i know you have questions, so i’m just going to give you all the facts i have. techno is the father and he does not know yet.” phil handed you the water and you gulped it down slow enough not to get sick but fast enough to satisfy your dried out mouth.

“do you plan on telling him?” he asked genuinely curious. you were slightly offended by this question considering how much phil knows you love techno.

“of course i do, he was just in a terrible mood. i wasn’t going to give him the biggest news of his life if he’s distracted. we both know why he’s in that state of mind,” you answered, remembering back to him telling you about quackity’s recent visit. techno was to go to the prison to visit dream. you had a terrible feeling about it, but techno was actually considering it. 

why would he trust quackity? the dude literally brought an army to capture techno and almost executed him had dream not stepped in. he would’ve lost one canon life and you were not going to have that happen again to your husband. you told him your worries and the piglin hybrid said he would take them into consideration.

“i know this is none of my business, but i would tell him. you shouldn’t have to go through this alone because life is ticking him off. raise your standards,” he suggested to you. phil’s words were actually quite comforting. there is no reason you should be puking in potato fields for him. he should be holding your hair back and putting ice packs to your forehead.

“thanks, phil,” you said as you moved away and grabbed a sack that was lying on the ground. quickly you picked some potatoes and headed home. at this point, the sickness had passed, and now you were feeling a little delayed rage. 

you swung the door open to the home you and your boyfriend shared for quite some time now and walked over to where techno was still messing around with potions. he looks over at you, but before he could say anything you slammed the sack filled with potatoes on the chest.

“i’m pregnant.”

·  · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·  ·  

written by @faithajo24​ & edited by me.

taglist: @aiyncel @etheriaaly

[wank127]

sorry in advance if i’m spamming your notifications /gen!

i just remembered that denki existed and i’m craving [neurodivergent] headcanons and your blog kinda has a lot of good reblogs n posts of that so-

you’re not spamming at all, in fact i didn’t even see this till now since i don’t normally get any asks ! (thanks for the ask btw <3) i hope you enjoy !!

neurodivergent denki headcannons !

disclaimer: i, myself, am currently in the process of getting diagnosed with adhd/autism/whatever it is (i’m not self diagnosing but i did get 8/10 on an autism assessment given to me by a doctor so that must say something) so this is a wee bit of me projecting. my intentions for this post are not to offend anyone in the nd community nor spread any miss information. please correct me if i make any mistakes ! and apologies for it being so long i’m still trying to figure out the ‘read more’ thing !! now ! onto the head cannons !!

he has MAJOR sensory issues and issues with bad textures

his main ones are foods that are a mix between solid or liquid, like a soup that’s meant to be smooth but isn’t or like very wet bread, anything sticky and that one inside of a hoodie feel, like the one wear it’s like fleece but it feels like plastic and somehow creamy and just BLUGNXJSK y’know?

he has that not right kind of thing(iykyk) where he has to say a word/phrase again till it feels right, or touch the desk again, or hit the back of foot again to make it right

it gets really frustrating sometimes

he surprisingly likes velvet, fun to play with, cool to drag your finger around on

he has very bad memory problems

like really bad

they cause him to breakdown every time he has a test cause everything he tried to study was just,, gone,, no where to be found

he opens up to present mic about it and he’s a big help, gives him extra time for testing, helps him with study techniques, gives him more reminders, etc etc

mic and him are like that student-english teacher duo

(no bc they’re the same person just different sizes please)

he struggles with reading a lot too, he knows there’s words but his brain just won’t recognize what they are

word soup

his main special interests/hyperfixations are old english literature, true crime/psychology/criminal stuff, literally anything to do with art and physics(electricity stuff)

he has other ones like cars and how to annoy bakugo to the brink of tears

his most common stims are happy flappy hands, putting his hand into a thumbs up and squeezing, rocking back and forth and swinging his legs about

his like calm down stim is humming, having some form of pressure(weighted blanket !!) and rocking a little bit

he gets overwhelmed by questions a lot

like if he’s not prepared to answer one and he gets asked TWO he’ll just go ‘nope’

he’s nonverbal sometimes, especially when he gets overwhelmed

he zones out and daydreams for like,,, 70% of the day

his favorite texture for food is something like mash potatoes, like a doughy texture, one that just sits right in the mouth

(potato waffles are his go to food (british thing but they’re so good))

just enough chew but not too much, not too wet not too dry

speaking of dry food,, he hates it. dry biscuits(cookies) are a no go if he doesn’t have a bunch of water/juice with him, he also just doesn’t like hot drinks

he’s god fuckinh amazing at art, like painting, drawing, sketching, everything

he’s so good at it

he ‘doodles’ in all of his school work and books, most of the time it’s of aizawa or present mic (or,, *cough*his crush*cough*) and they’re super accurate

when he goes to sleep he has to have a small tea light candle lit, his over the ear headphones on and playing asmr and a hoodie (comfort hoodie, gifted to him by kiri) with the hood up and pressure on his feet(like just his blanket covering them is fine)

no other set up is allowed

he uses fidget (simple dimple pop) and sensory toys

they got taken away from him in class one time, he almost cried it was so sad

RAGE

so much rage

god

when he was younger he used to scream bloody murder when he had to put on sunscreen (same boo)

refused to wear it until his parents got him a spray on sunscreen (it was just like an oil/water based sunscreen that just,, wasn’t sticky, it was perfect) he still uses it to this day

he loves music, so much

it’s so cool

so many playlists

has like ten different ones that he made just for long car drives

like all the sounds and noises just make his brain so happy

he likes bo burnham cause he has very good lyrics and sounds that make him wanna share them with everyone so they can be happy too (especially ‘sexting’ , ‘oh bo’,’ words words words’, ’rant’, the kanye one, ‘we think we know you’, ‘channel 5 news: the musical’ and ‘bezos’ 1&2)

(omg channel 5 news is so good)

his number is 5

he’s kinda scared to do good in school bc his rank in class will go up and what if it lands on an ugly number??

he’s quite unintentionally restrictive with his food

he just forgets to eat or that he’s hungry

he’s working on it tho dw !

his accents are like typical british/english, australian and southern american

pop out at random times

like he’ll ask present mic to repeat the page number as a southern bell little lady

had a vocal stim that was opra singing “milly rock pick it up”

lil jon vocal stim

(YEAH)

his room is very messy and cluttered from all the failed hobbies and things he just forgot about

expect him to cook but DO NOT expect him to clean up afterwards

like iida will walk into the dorm kitchen in the morning and find this huge mess thinking someone broke in

and kiri is like: oh ig denki was hungry i wonder if he has leftovers

okay i think i’m gonna end this one here lol it’s getting kinda long ! i hope you liked it ! <3

[iwantutobehapppier]

Still Remains

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You had planned a great Friday, sometimes things don’t go as planned. Perhaps your boyfriend can help salvage the day? 

Warnings: 18+ Only, smut, fluffy so very soft, fingering and cursing

Word Count: 2,969 (hehehe 69)

A/N: Hey hey! Happy Third night of Chanukah I hope you all enjoy some soft Bucky for tonight’s Chanukah present. Huge shout out to @sagechanoafterdark​ for her amazing beta skills on this one. Was def out my comfort zone.

You had a perfect day planned.

It would involve a workday where you gave minimal effort after completing a rather taxing project for upper management under the deadline. Then, go to your favorite and the best-smelling shop for a signature bath bomb, a quick stop at the upscale corner store for some wine plus a premade meal as cooking was not on the agenda tonight. All of that was to be followed by something good and dramatic on your iPad coupled with a face mask while you soaked in the bath not having a care in the world.

Your boyfriend, the ever understanding James Buchanan Barnes, knew how important your much needed me time was. Agreeing to meet with you on Saturday for lunch, leaving Friday as ‘you time’.

That was the plan.

It was a good plan. The best plan you’d had in weeks after endless work and long nights.

But that plan fell apart before you finished brewing your morning cup of coffee.

Your boss returned from his morning meeting with devastating news. The project you'd been slaving over for the last 3 weeks needed to factor in new data he'd failed to previously provide. Not only that but your deadline was moved from next week to today by 4 pm. Making the excuse about upper management leaving by then.

Coffee hastily made you care less about the creamer you spilled on the counter. Rushing to your desk to boot up and start compiling the required information. By lunchtime, you had a tension headache, a stomach ache, and your lower back was throbbing.

Catching one of your coworkers as they went to the cafeteria. You begged them to pick you up something, feeling guilty about leaving your desk for even a second while such a critical project was due in such a short amount of time. You couldn't even consider stopping for something like lunch. Hell, you barely had any water, something Bucky would certainly give you hell about tomorrow.

Speaking of the man, you checked your phone spying a sweet good morning text you had missed followed a little while later by an inquiry about how your day was. Quickly, you sent a quick reply summarizing how it was not a good day then quickly put your phone away, focusing back on the task at hand.

One good thing was you had sent the newly finished project out by 3:45.

The problem that followed?

Your boss had left early dumping their work on your desk. Groaning as your hopes for an on-time escape were dashed, you paused for a break to get some water and check your phone. Replying to some friends you saw your boyfriend’s concerned text, feeling your chest warm.

‘Do you need me to do anything? I can help you relax a little more tonight instead of hanging out with Steve.’ He was a sweet and caring man. Even though most of the world feared him, you only saw the caring, attentive, and dashing lover.

You wouldn’t take up his time tonight though, you needed a solo night in and he deserved time with his best friend for how much you normally take up his time. Sending a quick dismissal reply, ‘No honey, I’ll make it work thank you for being so amazing’ you’re back to the grindstone.

Leaving the office by 6, you thought the shop for our bath bomb closed at 7, and with it raining the past hour the chances of making it there on time were slim but you would not be bested. You had the perfect night planned and salvaging it was a must.

Reaching the doors at 7:30, locked for the night. You couldn’t help the anguished cry you gave out, stomping your feet in the puddles outside the locked doors. Allowing yourself a small pity party, you square your shoulders and make your way to the corner store. Refusing to allow another piece of your perfect plan to be dashed away.

They were out of your favorite wine.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stood in the aisle frustration sweeping over you. Shoulders dropping you drag your feet to the fresh market area, finding a lone wilted sandwich remaining. Clearly, a massive rush of people had been just as desperate for the corner store’s fresh market food as you were. Or, your melodramatic brain supplied, the world was against you today.

Shaking that unhelpful thought away you quickly sent a venting text to your boyfriend. ‘I was too late for a bath bomb and the corner market is a bust. :(’ Your mind coming up with a quick contingency plan as you typed. You knew you had some wine in the apartment that you barely liked but it would do in comparison to what the store had. If you recall correctly you think you had some papaya scented bath rocks that could be an okay substitute.

Moving on to your newly formed Plan C, you made your way home. Arriving home you were soaking wet as the rain had never let up.

Clutching your broken umbrella, because why not?

Your feet drag you through the front entrance of your apartment building. You could feel the building pressure of tears behind your eyes but you wouldn’t let them fall. Nope, not until you are at least in the safety of your home. Sighing in recognition of the terribleness that was your day you go to check the mail and just as your turn to  the bulletin board your heart drops at the sign “Water Heater Out Until Sunday”

Fuck today.

Fuck your boss.

Fuck the rain.

Fuck your stupid super, who barely kept your apartment up to code.

Fuck the people who bought your wine and food.

Fuck today.

Sucking in a deep breath you turn and start the walk up the steps when your phone rings. You answer it without a second thought, trying to keep your mental state from cracking before getting into your apartment your only goal.

“Hey doll,” your boyfriend’s deep silky voice in your ear, “I wanted to see if your night got any better.”

You tried to tell him what happened, you really did but as the words formed you plopped down onto the stairs; then, became a crying and blubbering mess. Your sweet boyfriend only able to make out blips like “water heater, fuck my boss, lazy super, I just can’t anymore.”

As you kept trying to explain what was wrong through your uncontrollable and frustrating sobs, Bucky’s voice finally broke through, “Stay on the phone with me, doll,” he instructed. Hearing rustling on the other end, “I’m on my way.”

Not even thirty minutes later Bucky found you, sitting on the steps. No longer sobbing, but tears intermittently still falling down your cheeks and emotionally wrung out.

He called your name softly and you looked up at him. Tying your best to smile, but it was hard. Without another word, he picked you up off the stairs and carried you to his car bridal style. Turning on the heater after starting the car, he begins to make his way back to his place respecting your silence.

“Bucky,” you whisper out as you both sit at a red light. He turns his head, those cerulean blue eyes shining with adoration and a bit of concern. “Thank you,” is all you can get out but god you want to say more the words stuck in your throat.

Knowing you were still decompressing his hand squeezes your thigh. “Anything for you, doll.” He winks before facing the road once more as the light turns green.

Pulling into the garage of his house, he exits the car lightly jogging to your side and opening the door. You go to grab your bags before he can get you. “Leave ‘em, I'll get them later.” Heeding his advice you let him pick you up once more leaving your stuff in the car.

Carrying you through the house into the master bath he gently set you on the edge of the tub. Holding up one finger he turns around looking under the sink before pulling out your favorite bath bomb. The exact one you threw a fantastic pity party about earlier tonight.

Your jaw goes slack before you rapidly question your boyfriend, “where did you get this? When did you get this?!"

“I stocked up last time we took a bath together,” he explained. Leaning over you Bucky swept the hair off your forehead before kissing you there. “I wanted to make sure you could be comfortable here.”

“Oh,” is all you can get out, floored by such a sweet and selfless gesture.

“Your shampoo is still in the shower,” he said, gesturing to the stand-up shower to the left of his free-standing soaking tub. “I know you like rinsing off before a bath.”

“I don’t wanna be in a soup of my own filth,” you said with a pout, justifying your pre-shower bath ritual. He chuckles at you leaning down farther before capturing your lips. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, trailing over the roof of your mouth, cupping your chin with his cool metal hand. Bucky hums into your mouth when your tongue connects with his.  

The kiss feels endless, the gentle caress of his tongue on yours exploring your mouth a much-needed comfort after this horrible day. When he pulls away your mouth remains slightly open, eyes closed a soft whine coming out at the loss.  When he caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles you open your eyes.

“Go on,” he nods his head to the shower, “relax and enjoy your bath.”

Watching his retreating figure you lick your lips eyeing his back end. Shaking your head out of your dirty thoughts you strip down to shower.

Once sufficiently clean, you wrap your hair in one of the microfibers wraps you’d left last time. Realizing you’d actually been leaving a lot more here and Bucky seemed to by buying stuff you normally kept at your place. Eyeing the double sink counter, you notice some of your creams and cleansing products there. Fairly certain you hadn’t purchased some of them twice due to cost alone.

Smiling at all the self-care items he had clearly bought just for you, your fingers trail along the marble countertop until you reach your bath bomb. Grabbing the half pink and half purple ball,  you make your way to the giant tub. Slipping in you set the bath bomb onto the window sill beside you.

Setting the water to the perfect warm temperature, you push the stopper down and sit back, resting your head on the tub rim as the tub fills. Once it hits the right level you turn the tap off and drop the bath bomb in, enjoying the scents of Jasmine and Ylang Yalng permeate the air as the tub water begins to turn a dusky pink.

A few minutes later Bucky walks in, holding a bottle of your favorite Rose Gold Rosé, a sparkling wine glass, and a clear package of food. Setting it all on the counter he turns to you and smiles at the sight of your already relaxed body.

Looking up at him a soft smile pulls on your lips. “I noticed you bought some of my products for here,” you comment.

“Is that a problem,” he inquires, rather sure it’s not but he wants to make sure he’s not crossing a line.

“N-no,” you stutter briefly, worried you might offend him for such a kind gesture. “No, I just didn’t know you did that.”

Smiling he sinks to his knees next to you outside the tub, folding his arms over the lip, “Well, didn’t wanna make a big deal of it.”

You nod, but still curious, “Why though?”

“So you’ll stay here more often,” he admits with a shrug. Bucky felt that the tactic was purely selfish on his part, but if all your things were here why would you need to go back to your place? He’d use tonight to show you that you can have your own space even when living with him.

“You like me being here?” Bucky wants to laugh at your doubt but doesn’t, knowing your nerves are rather frazzles so any sass from him could be misconstrued.

“Of course,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I always want you here.”

“Wh-what?” you gasp sitting upright in the tub so fast the water sloshing on the sides, trying to put together exactly what he is saying.

“This is a conversation later,” he cuts off with a smile. Wanting to stop your brain from the tailspin it was definitely heading towards. “I just wanna help my baby relax,” he says, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand.

You nuzzle into his hand with a contented sigh, “Oh, alright.”

His hand resting on your cheek slips down under the water, tweaking both your nipples pulling an involuntary gasp from you.

“Yeah,” his voice a whisper. Fingers trailing down your stomach to cup your heat, slipping between your slit. “You gonna let me help you relax after such a bad day?” You nod your head, mouth open in a muted moan panting with each stroke against you.

Bucky takes advantage of your open mouth, leaning in for a kiss with his tongue taking residence in your mouth. His fingers capture your clit gently squeezing before rubbing tight circles. Your eyes slipped closed at the growing pleasure.

You whimper into his mouth as he quickens his pace. Dipping your head back as he hits a good rhythm and pressure, making your toes curl but his other hand grips you by the back of your neck keeping your lips pressed tightly against his.

Two fingers dip inside you, slowly pushing in and out curling upwards, his palm rubbing against your clit in tandem with his fingers. When he hits that one special spot you try to slouch down into the water but his hand on your neck keeps you in place.

Your hands grip the lip of the tub, legs moving underneath the water and making soft waves that splash against the sides of the tub. Whimpers and moans pour from your mouth into his, eager to consume them.

Bucky tilts his head, making your teeth clash, ramping him up more. He’s moving faster now keying you quickly up but it’s not enough, he knows you need direct stimulation. Pulling his fingers back out of your heat, he rubs your clit in quick concise circles.

Your eyes pop open catching his intense stare, knowing he’d been watching you all along. Bucky was observant and always intense, picking up on every brow tick, nostril flare, and lip twitch. Almost studying you and picking you apart for his and your pleasure. It’s a goal for him, to make you feel all the emotions you make him feel, giving you the physical pleasure you bring to him.

The intensity of it all was too much.

His fingers keep their tempo, applying a little more pressure and it’s enough. Your legs shake and spasm making the water at the surface choppy and slosh in the tub. He released your mouth to hear your cry out in ecstasy, knuckles turning white as they held the edge of the tub.

“That’s my good girl,” his voice rumbles out.

Removing his hand from the dark pink water, at the same time his metal hand releases your neck. You look up at him panting, dazed in the euphoria of your orgasm as he stands. Bucky turns around, uncorking the wine with a pop and pouring you a glass. Looking around he frowns briefly, walking to the closet and returning with a brand new large bath tray, similar to the one you have at home. He sets it over the tub in front of you and places the bottle and full glass on the tray along with the cheese, crackers, and fruit pack.

He cups your chin pulling your slightly dazed eyes to him, he leans down pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Now you enjoy the wine and eat a little bit of food for me. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can get out. Bucky smirks with pride at your ravaged state as he leaves you alone in the bathroom with one last look.

After a good two-hour soak where you ended up emptying the tub a little before refilling with warm water halfway through, you finally felt relaxed enough and left the bathroom. Wrapping yourself in a plush white towel you slowly unwrap your now almost dry hair.

Padding into Bucky’s room you smile at the blue henley he left laying on the bed for you. Lifting it up you notice something is missing.

“Bucky?” you call out in confusion, brows furrowed as you look over the bed.

“Yeah, doll,” he replied, walking towards the bedroom, turning off lights as he made his way in.

“Do you have any of my underwear here?”

He starts pulling his sweats off watching you search for the missing item, “Yeah, I have a few.” He admits from behind you. You jump and playfully swat him behind you, a soft chuckle rumbles from him when he spins you around to face him.

“Hmm,” your lips turned up in a smile. Wondering why he didn’t provide you any and just with his shirt. You wrap your arms around his neck pressing your foreheads together. “I’m going to need a pair.”

He tugs at your towel smirking when it falls to the floor. His eyes trailing down your exposed body and back up to your face.

“No,” he gives you a pointed stare pulling you tight against him, “you don’t.”

[makeup-manifestation]

Time for another tutorial! Continuing on with the ToT boys, our next inspiration comes from detective/secret agent/general ray of sunshine, Luke Pearce!

I’m going to admit that I went with Luke next just to get him out of the way, not because I don’t love him but because I know that I would have difficultly coming up with a proper design for him, especially because his color scheme is kind of difficult to translate into eyeshadow without it looking weird or muddy. I sort of agonized over it for a bit, and originally I was going to go with something that drew a bit more inspiration from Peanut and the yellows that he is often associated with in promo art. But then, I made a mistake that eventually turned into something better! I when I was putting on my makeup this morning (because I often do these looks and do outfits to match them and wear them to class) I had taken my brush and taken some of my yellow, but when I started putting it on I thought “huh, this is looking more orange than I remembered.” And then I realized what happened. I had been messing around and experimenting last night because I was trying to see if I could recreate the freckles that the main character’s virtual avatar has from the movie Belle, because I’m going to see it tomorrow (this experiment failed, if I were to do it I properly would probably need a smaller brush or red graphic eyeliner), and I had forgotten to wipe the red eyeshadow off of my brush. So, when I used it this morning, the leftover red mixed with the yellow to make this warm yellow-ish orange (my palette already has an orange but it’s a lot brighter and looks sort of like a traffic cone, it has its uses but not for this)! I then improvised with some other colors and came out with something that looked really nice when it was all blended. That’s enough blabber, sorry if this feels like one of those recipes in which the author tells their entire life story and prevents you from getting to that awesome soup recipe in a timely manner, on to the tutorial!

Products used/recommended! (If you don’t have these, use whatever alternatives you have that are close to the shades that I used! They don’t have to be expensive, tbh most of my makeup is drugstore, the only stuff that isn’t is like my foundation and concealer.)

Makeup Revolution Reloaded Euphoria Palette (in case you can’t tell this palette is probably going to be in most of my tutorials, I love it to death it’s so colorful and it’s super pigmented when you use primer, plus it’s normally under $10!)

Wet n Wild Comfort Zone Palette (horrible confession I bought this palette so long ago that the one I’m using is the old discontinued version. It still works though, plus I checked and the new version that is being sold now has all of the same shades plus a few more, so I say that it’s still worth a buy, especially if you want some softer earthy tones for more every day looks!)

I was finally able to make out the text on my eyeshadow primer and match it to the actual product! It’s the Wet n Wild photofocus eyeshadow primer!

Eyeshadow “C” Brush (e.l.f.)

Small Angled Brush (e.l.f.)

Here’s the diagram! Written instructions will be below!

1. Apply your eyeshadow primer to your eyelids and creases!

2. Alternate between using red and yellow (the shades labeled as “1” on the diagram) on your inner corners until they mix into a pleasant yellowish orange (make sure to wipe off your brush when you switch colors!)

3. Wipe off your brush and take some of the olive green (the shade labeled as “2” on the diagram) and apply it to the rest of your eyelid. Make sure to blend it properly with the orange!

4. Wipe off your brush and take some of the brown labeled as “3” on the diagram and apply it to your crease. Make sure to blend!

5. Typically I prefer to line my eyes with black, and I usually use a liquid liner, but this look was coming out looking a bit earthy so I decided to just line using the small angled brush in the brown labeled “4” on the diagram so it would come out softer!

And that’s the tutorial! Tbh I was trying to avoid being super long winded in my intro but I want to drop this story: so I’m really bad at small talk with strangers, so of course icebreakers make me want to throw myself out of a window. I was my first official stats class of the semester (and thankfully the last math class that I will have to take in my undergrad, woo!) and my professor said “okay so take like three minutes to introduce yourself to the people sitting near you”, and then everyone sitting around me turned to other people and started talking, and the one other person next to me was a TA, so I was too nervous to actually say anything to anyone or interrupt so I was just kind of sitting there like this:

My social ineptitude aside, I hope you guys enjoyed this tutorial, and happy pulling! Our next ToT boy will be Vyn!

If you want to make a request, check out my pinned post and then shoot me an ask!

Other ToT looks:

Marius: https://makeup-manifestation.tumblr.com/post/673614434674032640/okay-yall-its-time-for-the-first-official

[kbstories]

noodle soup (a little KRBK sick fic)

The squad thought they knew their beloved Blasty was a bit of a feral-type mom friend… until Kirishima got sick from one day to the next, and they witnessed the full extent of how overbearing a worried Bakugou can be. At first Kirishima plays up the whining because, well, he’s sick and that sucks, and hogging Bakugou’s attention is nice and makes everything suck less.

It’s a tactical mistake.

Suddenly, absolutely nobody is allowed close to Kirishima ("Or d’ya fools wanna get sick too, hah?!"). Kirishima’s room becomes a biohazard zone guarded by 1-A’s very own Dynamight akin to Cerberus at the gates of hell.

The thing is: Kirishima is still allowed to do everything he wants. He gets away with demanding hugs (even if Bakugou pointedly leans his masked face away when they snuggle up), or marathon his favorite TV series Bakugou insists actively kills braincells. When Kirishima wakes up coughing and groaning miserably, Bakugou is there to force some cold medicine on him as well as the home-made broth that happens to have those noodle letters Kirishima not-so-secretly finds delightful.

It’s fun until it gets a little claustrophobic. Kirishima is used to working out daily, and hanging out with most of 1-A in some shape or form throughout the week. Being locked in his room is making him antsy in a way that even the virus wreaking havoc on his body can’t dispel.

"Bakuuu", goes Kirishima on day three. "You know I love you, right bro? And that hanging out for all eternity is like, manly as hell—"

Bakugou’s eyes narrow over his mask. He aggressively folds a wet towel and shoves it — deceptively gentle — against Kirishima’s brow. "But?"

"I miss the others, dude! Have you seen Denks blowing up the group chat? This is giving him separation anxiety and stuff."

"Sparks isn’t a fucking dog, he can deal."

"And what about Mina? She needs our combined intel or her gossip operation will suffer!"

"Gossip?! I don’t gossip, you do."

"Fine but like, Sero—"

"Just say you’re tired of me and go!"

Only when Bakugou yells those words does Kirishima realize he’s been actually keeping his voice down when around him. And sure, Kirishima’s aching head had appreciated that — the volume is all the more jarring now.

"Huh?!"

With a glare, Bakugou puts pressure on the towel until Kirishima gets the memo and holds it himself, watching the other get to his feet and start to pace.

"Or— Fucking don’t, your stupid ass is still sick. I’m going. You stay in that bed, Kirishima Eijirou, or so help me—"

Kirishima sputters, "But, dude! I meant like, letting the squad in, not— I wouldn’t get tired of you, I don’t think I can."

"Save it", hisses Bakugou, whirling around on his way out. "Fuck you! And there’s lunch in your mini fridge!"

Then he’s gone.

Continuing to dutifully hold the towel to his too-hot face, Kirishima gapes at his closed door. It takes him a good minute or two to one-handedly text the others not to cross Bakugou’s path.

Then he sits in the sudden silence and misses his best friend.

*

Bakugou stays away for the duration of Kirishima’s sick leave.

It’s a little dramatic, admittedly, especially because (a) they live next to each other, and (b) food seems to magically appear at Kirishima’s doorstep for every meal. His bro is sneaky when he wants to be, though, so Kirishima knows it’s pointless to try and catch him in the act, or even attempt an apology.

(That doesn’t stop him from doing it anyways or from hoping he’ll succeed, of course.)

Guilt keeps Kirishima from using his new-found freedom for anything other than watching TV, finding the comfort lacking even from episodes he knows by heart.

By the time he’s back on his feet, Kirishima has a plan to hunt down the ever-elusive Bakugou and clear things up. And by 'plan' he totally means camping out in front of Bakugou’s room until he shows up. So what if Kirishima is feeling a bit wobbly from residue sickness? He’s a man on a mission, and once Kirishima has made up his mind about something, there is no turning back.

Even when the Bakugou that finally shows up around midnight is looking about as exhausted as he feels. Leaving the fact aside that it’s hours past Bakugou’s bedtime, he looks… weirdly subdued. In actuality, he doesn’t even seem to realize that Kirishima is on the floor, back against Bakugou’s door, until Kirishima pipes up with an uncertain:

"Bakubro?"

Bakugou damn-near startles, blinking and letting his gaze roam until it falls on him. The immediate frown that follows makes Kirishima wince. Yup, alright, Bakugou is still pissed.

"The fuck d’you want?" asks Bakugou in the same moment Kirishima offers, "You good, man?"

Another awkward moment of staring. Kirishima gets up to level the playing field a bit, the elaborate speech he’d thought up blown away by how hazy Bakugou’s eyes are. Oh no.

"You look a bit pale there, Kats. Sure you’re feeling alright?"

"Fine", comes the predictable reply. Bakugou shoves Kirishima aside with half the force he usually would and okay, uncharted territory here.

Because Bakugou definitely caught the virus from Kirishima.

"How about we, dunno, skip the part where you pretend I didn’t manage to get you sick and you let me help you out too?"

There’s hope in Kirishima’s voice. In retaliation, Bakugou’s glare is double as venomous (even if his flushed cheeks maintain a certain softness there too).

"How about you go hang out with the rest of the idiots and leave me alone?"

Yikes. Kirishima shuffles on the spot a little, "You didn’t deny it, though", wanting to reach out but kind of enjoying having un-exploded limbs, as well.

"Kirishima."

Hrghh, definitely still hurt, too. Kirishima whines and leans against the frame of Bakugou’s door, not standing in his way but not letting him go without a fight, either.

"I’m sorry, bro, seriously, I am! I didn’t mean to complain when you were working so hard. Didn’t mean to sound like I don’t appreciate you having my back, either, but I did and just… Couldn’t ask for a better friend, y’know? You being all overprotective about me and stuff, I’m really honored!"

"Kirishima", Bakugou grits out.

Kirishima grins. "Just tellin' the truth."

Huffing out, "I’ll show you truth", Bakugou scowls at this own threat. Probably not murder-y enough. "Whatever. You done? I’m fuckin’ beat."

The worry in Kirishima’s heart returns with a vengeance. Bakugou, openly admitting he’s tired? He must be feeling pretty bad already.

"Okay, yeah, I’m letting you sleep. Just— Lemme get you some of those pills before you do? And like. I’m totally bringing you breakfast in bed, Kats, just a heads-up!"

That gets a scoff out of Bakugou, undeniably amused. "Do me a favor and don’t burn anything, will ya?"

Kirishima beams at the unspoken go-ahead, saluting before rushing to grab the meds Bakugou got him not too long ago. There’s no way he won’t ace this rare chance of taking care of Bakugou.

He learned from the best, after all.

[zeldaelmo]

This is my contribution for the @behind-the-fic MFC contest! It's an old story (the first chapter, actually, but I figured it would work as a one-shot as well). I am working on something else, but I’m slow and the new story is very much out of my comfort zone, so who knows if I’m able to finish it to my satisfaction until 01.08.

I'm not fond of the idea of competition when it comes to my creative hobbies, so I don't want to win anything. I just like to be part of it because I was too shy to do the podcast as a non-native speaker.

But enough of me, you are here to get sad. 😉

tw: Link is an orphan in this one and the loss of his parents is mentioned as a backstory. Nothing horrible, but I want you to be aware.

Well. And warning for horrible proposals. 😆

Oh, and this story was inspired by a scene of @spacebeyonce Halloween fic ‘draw me like a magnet (to the sea)’ !

A fool such as I 

He knew he was a fool when his eyes scanned the passing sidewalk for a woman with blonde hair from the passenger's seat of Pipit’s car. 

He knew he was a fool when they entered the charity gala, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking for a pair of blue eyes. 

He knew he was a fool when a bell-like laugh made him turn around to find out if it was her.

It was not. 

It was never her. 

“Link,” Pipit nudged him in the side, rolling his eyes at him, “you are doing it again. Get yourself something to drink and enjoy the evening, for Hylia’s sake! I didn’t drag you here to look for your imaginary girlfriend!” 

Sighing in defeat, Link grabbed a glass from the tray of one of the waiters, not caring at all what fancy drink he might have gotten himself. Old habits die hard – the point wasn’t that Link didn’t know Pipit was right. It was just... he sipped his drink to distract himself and the bitter-sweet taste of the bright orange aperitif rolled on his tongue. 

This wasn’t the first time they'd had this conversation and if Link was honest with himself, it wouldn’t be the last, either. He knew that looking for her was like looking for a needle in a haystack. His heart, however, knew not. Every time he convinced himself to give up, every time he tried to move on, his pulse thrummed against that faded scar on his palm, and he did it again. 

Like a fool. 

He had been eight when he first met her. 

It had been his mother’s last summer alive. She had been suffering from a mysterious lung disease the doctors couldn’t explain and couldn’t heal. They had sent the whole family to Skyloft, a famous climatic spa, in a last, desperate attempt to save her life. His parents hadn’t told him how severe his mother’s condition was, perhaps to spare him or perhaps to spare themselves from the truth. They just spoke about a long vacation with him, an opportunity for him to meet new friends and to stray over the little island on his own. He had loved the idea immediately. 

The girl arrived three days after him, her cheeks lacking color, her hair coiffed in two neat braids, and her proper cotton dress dancing around her knees. She was without her parents, just with her nanny – a stern-looking woman named Impa. The curious child that he was, he asked her in the following days why her parents didn’t accompany her. She shrugged and said, they were extremely busy and their jobs couldn’t afford a summer break and that was that. To him, it didn’t matter anyway, because sneaking her out was much easier this way – Impa never caught them. 

The physician had diagnosed her with general weakness and a susceptibility to illness and therefore she'd been sent to Skyloft. Link couldn’t detect anything ‘ill’ on her. Her face lit up every time she saw him in the eating room and after she winked at him over the huge bowl of pumpkin soup, he followed her in a safe distance to her room on his tiptoes. Impa, whose room was on the opposite, frightened him, so he didn’t dare to knock in case she would hear him. Instead, he bolted out of the back door and threw little pebbles on her window to get her attention. She opened the window with a wide smile, and he knew immediately that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. 

The days flew by after that. 

They met at the Goddess statue whenever she had free time between her treatments, and she sneaked out every evening to sit with him at the little pond. Her cheeks began to grow rosier from day to day and soon her blue eyes sparkled in the summer sun. 

She hadn’t been ill – she had been lonely. 

He taught her how to catch bugs and butterflies with a butterfly net, and she taught him their correct names. They read stories from the books of the little library, she more often than him because she was already a fluent reader while he was a beginner. Later in the summer, he even showed her how to swim and when she was too frustrated with her lack of stamina, they ended up in a giant water fight until their giggles made their faces and stomachs hurt. They raced over the island together, always hand in hand, stealing apples at the market and hiding sky stag beetles under seat cushions to watch the poor owner of the cushion being pinched from their hiding place. ‘Oh, will you look at these cuties!’, the adults exclaimed when they saw them, or, ‘Ah, to be young and in love again!’ and they both blushed in the warm summer sun. 

One afternoon, after they got a large piece of pumpkin pie from one of the farmers for helping to harvest the earlier pumpkins, she even kissed him. ‘You have pumpkin on your lips, Link,” she whispered, and then she pressed her lips to his and he was sure that he would burst into tiny pieces any moment out of sheer happiness. 

Like every summer, this summer too, had to end. She sneaked out of her room for the last time to meet him at their favorite place. They sat closer together as usual, both searching for comfort in the other, instinctively unwilling to separate from each other. Their hearts heavy, not many words were spoken, at least for eight-year-old standards. When the light of the sun turned slowly in a glowing shade of orange, she took his hand and turned his palm upward, stroking a line over it with her index finger. 

“Do you have your carving knife with you?” She spoke under her breath, “I want to take an oath.” He had and so he traced the stinging, bloody cut in his palm when he watched her part with Impa the following morning, swearing to himself that he would do anything he could to keep his part of the promise. 

They would see each other again, no matter what. 

And if that made him a fool, so be it.

“Earth at Link, earth at Link, we need you down here!” Pipit waved a piece of paper in front of his face. His friend had been busy filling out the symbolic check for their donation and was obviously expecting his input. Link blinked at him. “How much do we usually give? 3000 rupees?” he asked, trying to cover his slip into the daydream before his friend would shoot him another remark. Fortunately, Pipit was used to his aversion to numbers in general and didn’t grow suspicious. Pipit was the book-keeper and planner of their little security firm, while Link stuck to the operating tasks like installing an alarm device or overlooking a festivity in addition to the regular stuff of another rich family. His job description was a mixture between bodyguard and engineer, but usually, he liked to be on the road and working with Pipit was a huge pro as well. 

His friend nodded in agreement to his question and tapped the pen at his lips. “Well, write 3500. I’ll cover the rest.” 

Pipit blew a whistle. “What’s up, Link? Feeling generous tonight?” 

“It’s for an orphanage this year, Pipit,” he sighed. “There are too many kids who don’t have the same luck I had back then.” 

And that was true. Life didn’t give him much opportunity to think of his promise at first. His mother died only weeks after their return from Skyloft and his father followed her half a year later. A broken heart, the doctor said with thin lips when he squeezed his shoulder. He ended up in an orphanage for a few months but was lucky enough to find a family who was willing to adopt him. It was very unusual that a child of his age found a family at all. His adoptive parents said that they loved his messy hair and his honest smile from the very first second, and no matter how ridiculous that sounded to him, he was immensely thankful. Of course, it took some time to grow to love each other, but they managed somehow, and he didn’t feel so lost anymore – at least regarding his family. 

A year after he had left Skyloft, his life had changed dramatically, but he hadn’t forgotten his friend at all. Dreaming of her smile warmed him inside when the grief shook him to the core and thinking of her hand in his, anchored him when he was on the verge of drifting off. His new family knew nothing about her and although they shared a robust trust after a while, he was hesitant to share this treasured piece of his old life with them. 

Instead, he secretly started to look for her whenever they were in new places. Stood on staircases to get a better look over a crowd. Glanced at all the other tables when they were eating in a restaurant. Stayed near the door of a bus to observe if she might be one of the people who hopped on or off the vehicle. 

She was never among them. 

As a teenager, he gathered his courage and made a serious attempt to find her. He had little to start - they hadn’t thought of exchanging addresses or even last names. The horizon of eight-year-old children only extends so far. So, the administration of the health resort in Skyloft was his first shot. The files of the patients were only stored for five years, and they wouldn’t give him further information anyway unless he was related to her. He scrolled through the homepage of the staff next and contacted the few faces he recognized, stumbling through his lines on the phone. Nobody remembered a blonde girl with her name.

The last hint to her was Impa. He tried to find her instead, hoping an adult would leave more traces behind than a girl would, but the internet was dead silent about a nanny named Impa. It was hopeless. He was stuck looking for her everywhere he went.

Pipit coughed in his fist beside him and nodded in the direction of a brunette a few steps in front of them, hissing, “Babe alert!” 

“You are married, Pipit.” Link rolled his eyes at his friend. “Karane won’t be lucky over the fact that you are pining after other women.” 

“I’m talking about you, you moron. Or are you still dating Peatrice?” 

Link groaned and waved his hands. “Don’t get me started on that girl. She was so clingy, horrible.” 

He had tried to like her, really. She had begged him for a date, and he had given in. They had done all this dating stuff, watching films in the cinema, dining in a restaurant, even holding hands on a walk in the park. It had always been the same, after two hours more or less, he hadn’t been able to stand her anymore. The mindless chit chat, the exaggerated admiration for him, the false lashes, everything about her had put him on edge. 

Like a clockwork, his scar had begun to itch, and he had fled from her presence. 

“She wasn’t her.” Pipit narrowed his eyes at him. “That’s why. Because you are still chasing rainbows. Link, man up and move on!” 

“She was clin-” Link stopped. 

Looked again. 

Took a few steps forward. 

“Link?” He heard Pipit asking somewhere behind him, but he was already on his way. 

Could it be? His pace quickened when the people in front of him revealed a glimpse of blonde hair once again. The beat of his heart drummed through his veins, all the way down to his fingertips and his toes, too loud, too fast, and he tried assertively to push it back into his rib cage. 

He had been wrong before. 

He was most likely wrong again, the people and the yards between them made it difficult to be sure. Her calf-length evening dress was pink, yes, but who knew if it was still her favorite color? She had been eight. 

When she turned and his desperate eyes slid over the curve of her nose, her lashes, her powdered cheeks, a stubborn thing called hope expended in this chest. The bright, powerful hope like the sun after a summer storm, not the simmering, obstinately hope like a smoldering fire which had accompanied him for so long now. 

She was talking to someone, an elegant gentleman with long white hair, and her face lit up just in time when he was near enough to confirm that her eyes were blue. And then she smiled, a polite, practiced smile only, not even reaching her eyes, but it was proof enough to let his heart skip for far too long as it should be medically explainable. 

He had found her. 

Hylia above, after all these years, he had truly, finally found her! Tiny, shaky breaths left him, in and out, which did nothing to calm his nerves, and he took her in again, just to be sure. She looked different, of course, but her eyes had still the slightest trace of sadness that they had when he had seen her for the first time. Her features had grown out of the roundness of a child and her cheeks were rouged to hide the lack of color again. 

It had to be her – his heart beat nothing but her name through his veins. He had nearly caught up to her now and raising his trembling hand, he called, “Zelda!” Her head snapped up and his chest expanded nearly painfully from joy – it was her. It was her! But before their eyes could meet, a security guard in a black suit tapped her shoulder and led her away. 

No! 

Someone on the stage announced the charity entry of the princess, but he didn’t pay anything around him mind, nearly batted the unpleasant noise away with his hands. Setting his shoulders once more and squeezing through the people, he tried to follow the way she had left. He would not lose her again, now that he had finally found her. Never again! 

The stage and the backstage area were closed off with thick red ropes, a bodyguard with a stern face on each side of the stage, who already eyed him when he gave the rope a frustrated slap. He couldn’t look for her here. 

Fretfully, he turned around only to realize that he was trapped. Every single attendant of the charity Gala had gathered around the stage and it was pointless to try to get through these people, let alone find her again. Rolling his eyes, he braced himself for the next minutes of what would probably be a boring charity speech from the princess while he was dying to be on his way to find Zelda once again. 

He had never been particularly interested in the royal family – he wasn’t even sure if he would recognize one of them beside the King on the street. The King was the figurehead of the parliamentary monarchy and gained the main interest of the journalists and the people, while the rest of the royal family lived a relatively secluded life. Every now and then one of the members would participate in a charity event much like today. 

Sure, there was some kind of gossip press, too, but Link had always believed himself having more important things to do than following ‘reports’ of people he would never see in real life anyway. In the past, he had watched the New Year's speech of the King on television every year with his adoptive family, and he still did sometimes now he lived alone to keep the tradition up. Therefore, in all honesty, his curiosity about seeing the Princess wasn’t as great as it seemed to be the case with the people around him, but now that he was standing in the first row, he might as well take a look at her. 

The moment he turned around was the moment he realized he hadn’t been only a fool. 

He had been the greatest fool of all. 

Zelda. 

Zelda was the Princess of Hyrule. 

His heart dropped in his stomach, no to the floor. Suddenly, everything made sense. Impa hadn’t been a stern nanny; she had been a bodyguard. Her parents hadn’t been able to accompany her because they were the King and the Queen. Of course, she had been pale and lonely and well educated, because she had spent so much time on becoming a perfect princess as a child. Nobody remembered a blonde girl because they all only recalled the one summer the Princess was in Skyloft. He had never seen her on the bus because she had her own chauffeur. 

His knees nearly gave out under him, the edge of his vision blurring, when he tried to process the new information. Zelda was the Princess. That changed everything. Or did it change nothing at all? How was he supposed to think straight with that soundscape here?

He quashed the urge to block his ears from the horrible sappy violin music, his eyes returning to her instinctively, searching hers in vain. She was so sweet and beautiful and familiar; he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Oh, how he had missed her! 

So, what if she was the Princess? He wouldn’t let something like that get in their way. A promise was a promise was a promise. He just had to talk to her somehow when she left the stage – then they would pick up their friendship. Perhaps, if they still clicked like all these years ago, he even dared to hope for more. 

The piece of music the fiddlers were playing reached an even more sappy height and a guy with an odd, red pompadour he hadn’t noticed before stepped up to Zelda. He nestled with something in his pocket before he dropped down to one knee. Link’s eyes widened in horror, his body frozen in place. No… No, stop it! Not now, when he had finally found her! An icy fist gripped his heart and refused to let go. This had to be a cruel joke of destiny. 

One long, wonderful moment she said nothing, and he dared to hope that – yes, what? That she looked over, realized her undying love for him, so they could ride into the sunset on his non-existing horse? 

He fled when she nodded and the idiot raised again, not hesitating to kiss her. The people in front of him barely parted, and he stumbled, tripped until he found himself breaking down on the grated steps of the emergency exit. The cold of the autumn evening crawled under his skin. Or maybe it was the cold sting of realization. If he had found her ten minutes earlier, a week earlier, a year earlier, he might have stood a chance. Now, every moment he had looked for her had been in vain, her fiancé didn’t look at all like the type who would tolerate a rival, even if they would just be friends. 

What a fool he had been! 

He pressed his palms to his eyes, casting the world out. Who was he kidding, she was the Princess. Princesses didn’t stick with orphaned country-boys running a little two-person-operation, which made barely enough to donate a little sum every year. Princesses married rich company heirs, fancy musicians, or whatever this guy was. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat with his face buried in his hands, hot tears dwelling at the corner of his eyes, unwilling to shed, when he heard the metallic click of the door. It could have been minutes. Or hours – and now Pipit had finally found him. It was time to move on anyway for him. 

A delicate hand stroked his back once, twice, before it withdrew. 

“A break-up?” A soft voice asked and when he raised his head, the tears finally fell. 

Rainbows. 

He had been chasing rainbows – she didn’t even recognize him when he was directly in front of her. 

It took him two attempts to get the words through the stinging lump in his throat. “Kind of,” he finally choked out, torturing himself by looking at her face from so close. 

She smiled that polite, meaningless smile, saying, “You’ll find someone else, eventually.” 

“I guess I have to,” he whispered and tore his gaze away, his heart shattering into a million pieces. The silence hung between them like the moon between the stars, and he waited and hoped and hated himself more for it with every passing second. 

Finally, she sighed and rubbed her arms. “I’m sure it’s a beautiful night somewhere, for someone.” 

He didn’t dare to look in her eyes again when he unwound his white-blue shawl and placed it on her shoulders. Denied himself to let his fingertips linger. To enclose her in his arms to shield her from the cold. From the world that forced her to paint her pale cheeks with rouge.

“Thank you,” she breathed, quiet, earnest. 

He looked at the moon again, taking his time to breathe in and breathe out, failing to prepare himself for a goodbye he had dreamed of as a beginning. A goodbye, he had never meant to say. 

“Congratulations on your engagement.” 

She looked at the rock on her finger, fidgeting the underside of the ring with her thumb. “Ah, yes, that. Thank you.” 

Despite himself, he took her hands in his and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, his fingers brushing her scar and hers brushing his for a terrible, perfect moment before he left. 

“Goodnight, Zelda.” His voice was as quiet as his heart was loud.

The emergency door fell shut after him with a heavy thud and the crowd of the gala swallowed him without hesitation.

She really should look happier, but it wasn’t his concern anymore. 

Perhaps it never had been. 

Psss... if you are like me and can’t stand a sad ending, check out the rest of the story here.

[nouvellestudy]

Things I wish I had known before going to university!

Surviving (and thriving) while living alone

Your flatmates will not always be your lifelong friends and that is OK

You may get lucky with flatmates, but you may also get flatmates who hide in their rooms and leave their dishes for 2 weeks without washing them (I am not bitter what). If you get amazing flatmates then that is great but remember that you do not need to be best friends as long as you are civil, and you will find people more suited to you through other parts of uni life!

Be a good flatmate

Wash your dishes, do your part in cleaning of the communal areas and don’t use all your flatmates olive oil without replacing it. It may seem like common sense but you will discover that many people at uni don’t seem to mind living with flies floating around dirty dishes (again I am definitely not bitter)

1st semester will be overwhelming and that is also OK

Moving away from home and being alone in a foreign environment can be scary, especially if you are far away from home. I found that giving myself things to do really helped me tackle this as I was always busy or looking forward to something. Remember that feeling overwhelmed is normal and many others are feeling the same way too, you are definitely not alone!

Freshers flu is REAL

Lots of people from lots of different places = lots of new germs. I cannot give you any tips other than lemsip and paracetamol are lifesavers!

Take the time to get to know your new city

Use some of your free time to walk around your new surroundings. Maybe try to find a café to study in, or a beauty spot you have seen on Instagram. I also love going on day trips to surrounding areas as it lets you see and do things that you wouldn’t be able to do at home!

Learn how to budget and stick to it

This doesn’t need to be a complex system. My system is first factor in how much you need to cover the essentials (e.g. rent, power, water, alcohol) Then once you have paid everything you HAVE to pay for, set yourself an allowance of spending money and stick to it. I transfer myself this allowance into a separate bank account and use only this bank account for day to day spending. Review every so often whether you are setting yourself not enough or too much allowance and adjust, and then you are on your way to becoming a financially independent adult! It’s also good to have a little bit of back up money put aside for emergencies.

Learn how to cook, even if they are just basic recipes

It may be the student stereotype to live off pasta and pasta alone, but having a few basic recipes under your belt is really useful. Learn how to make things like curry, chilli and soup so you can make enough portions to freeze. Also always try to make enough servings for that day and the next day to save yourself time!

Keeping up with the coursework

Reference as you go, don’t leave it until last

It is so much easier to keep track of what sources you used and where you are referencing these in text if you do it as you go! If referencing structure is intimidating for you there are plenty of reference formatting systems online and on word to help you!

You don’t need to buy all the recommended reading books

Usually you will be able to find recommended reading online or in your university library, but if you have to buy a textbook always look for a cheaper alternative such as buying secondhand from students in the years above. Save your pennies for more exciting things than textbooks!

You don’t always have to do your reading but it certainly helps

I met people during my first year who did no reading and got by, but doing the recommended reading helps you to understand the concept more and means you will be more informed to contribute in classes. I always do reading and preparation for seminars and tutorials because you will be expected to contribute, but you can usually get away with not doing reading for a lecture, unless you have a lecturer who likes to quiz you rather than just talk at you. Do not let yourself get into the habit of not doing your reading though, fail to prepare = prepare to fail as they say.

 Aim to submit your work at least an hour before the deadline

Please please PLEASE do not be the person who submits your assignment minutes before it’s due. Try to submit the day before or at least a few hours before just in case the website crashes, your computer crashes etc. so you don’t get penalised for a late submission.

Go to classes (at least the majority of them)

I know how tempting it is to get a few extra hours sleep instead of going to that 9am lecture, but do not get in the habit of this or before you know it you’ll be going to no classes a week. Try to remember that you are in a privileged position to be receiving an education in the first place and take advantage of this! (also that you are likely paying a fortune for it so you might as well get your moneys worth).

Find the independent study method that works for you

University can be a steep learning curve as tutors expect you to do the majority of your learning independently. Learn how to prioritise your work and find the method of note-taking and consolidation of learning that works for you, as well as the place you work best (cafe, library, your bedroom). Work smarter not harder,  so find the most efficient method that helps you keep on top of your pile of (ever growing) coursework!

Make a list of all your deadlines and when these are due

Put this list above your desk and tick off deadlines as you meet them. I find this to be useful as you can see all the deadlines for the semester in one place! (and its also incredibly satisfying to tick stuff off a to do list)

Compromises are key

It may be the case that your essay due tomorrow that you haven’t started is more important than going to the pub with your friends. Make compromises with yourself – don’t go out on Wednesday if you need to finish an assignment but go out at the weekend when you can enjoy yourself and not have to worry about the assignment!

Social gatherings

Allow yourself to have fun!

You are paying to attend uni to get an education but you are also paying for the experience. Use your free time to do something you enjoy, whether that is going out for dinner, socialising with friends or even travelling.

On the flip side, allow yourself to say no

While it is important to push yourself out of your comfort zone at uni, it is also valuable to take some time for yourself if you feel you need it. Do not feel you have to be constantly busy and do things just because your friends are, downtime is just as important and sometimes you just need a night in with just yourself and Netflix!

Find something outside of uni to fill your time

Like I said before, uni is not just about academics. Joining a society or sports team can be a great way to meet new people and get involved in the university community. You could also start some volunteering if you feel that you have time. I started working with community youth group and I will definitely continue with this beyond first year! This lets you completely take your mind off uni for a while and also looks good on the CV!

Join group chats before you go to uni

If you take anything from this post DO THIS. Get on facebook and hunt down a freshers groupchat for your uni. These freshers chats often develop into smaller groupchats for your specific course or accommodation and this is an excellent way to make friends before you even get to uni! (also a great way to see where the parties are happening on campus)

These are just a few of the things I have learned and will obviously not apply to everyone, but I hope you are able to use this guide to learn something and help you feel more prepared! Going to university helps you to grow so much not only academically but also as a person, so try your best to make the most of it!

[silverlightqueen]

Filter - Part 2

‘There are so many sides to him, it’s hard to keep track.’

fratboy/jock!Jimin x cheerleader!reader - e2l, smut, a n g s t, comedy, fluff 

Part of ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo!

Rating: 18 (graphic sex and mature themes)

Word Count: 16.6k+ (she’s a monster omg I’m so sorry)

Warnings - bad language, humiliation (not during sex - he just embarrasses the hell out of her in public), alcohol, drug consumption, explicit discussion of sex, locker room sex, y/n being a brat again, jimin being a dick again (but worse,,,so much worse), dom!jimin, sub!y/n, teasing, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, tit fucking, tit slapping, Jimin’s monster cock makes a return, praise, explicit dirty talk, mild degradation, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, standing sex, asphyxiation, y/n and jimin argue again (multiple times), Jimin is literally the worst human being on earth in this omg I’m sorry for making him terrible, somehow I ended up putting a comment on society and the patriarchy (?) at the end but we go with it, girl power! and if your kpop boy is in this, he’s trash (unless he’s Stray Kids Minho, the only male character in this that deserves rights)

a/n: unedited lol and this really didn’t go the way it was supposed to, but I don’t hate it so here ya go, enjoy! I think in this lockdown, I’ve really started to,,,,hate men and it shows in this fic so I’m sorry to any boys that might be reading this lmao. but anyway thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading this, you’re the best hype girl ever, luv u xoxo (and I promise I’ll work on The Other Half for you and @brinnalaine​ ) lmk what you think of it, I legit thrive off praise lol x

Read Part 1 first !!!

also I got the banner off google so credit to whoever made it (it has no relevance to the story but it matches the colour scheme so we roll with it lmao)

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you so much for coming. We really appreciate the turn-out, and we’re super excited to see your try-outs! Today is going to be quite simple; we’ll start by speaking to you one-by-one to see the range of movements that you can do. Not everyone on the squad has to be able to fly and tumble, so don’t be worried if you can’t do certain flips or jumps – we try to include people of all abilities as long as the raw talent is there, and you’ll be able to learn a lot if you make the squad. Once we’re aware of what you can do, we’ll group you into smaller groups and teach you a simple routine, a slightly different one for each group. We’ll watch you perform the routine as a group after some practice time, and then we’ll assess your Cheer ability one by one, just a couple flips and jumps and things like that. If you really would rather not do them by yourself, that’s okay. Just let one of the squad know, and we’ll pair you with someone else who feels the same. We understand that some of you may not feel confident enough to perform in front of everyone else by yourselves. And it’s okay if you don’t have much confidence, because that’s something we will work on and help you to improve if you make the squad. Does anybody have any questions?’

Dozens of hopeful faces smile back at me, not one hand rising to ask a question, and I smile back. I was nervous about my first time doing this, speaking in front of everyone as newly elected Cheer Captain, but having the rest of the squad behind me makes me feel better. ‘Okay, great. If you could get into four lines in front of each of the seats at the desk, we’ll get started!’ I say excitedly. Irene, Jisoo, Chen and Jihyo (the most responsible people on the squad) are sat behind the desk to write down what people are able to do, the others on the squad dotted around to help if anyone needs it, and all the people here to try-out head over to the desk. I take a moment to take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and I tilt my head back to feel the sun on my face. The weather’s lovely today, warm and sunny with a slight cool breeze, perfect for cheer try-outs, and the turf of the pitch is healthy and green, not yet ruined by the studs on the bottom of the players’ football boots (training doesn’t start ‘til next week).

‘y/n, relax, babe. Everything’s going well, you did a good job,’ Jennie says from behind me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I nod. ‘Yeah, I know. It’s just… being Cheer Captain, it’s big boots to fill.’ ‘I know, but you’ve got all of us helping you out. You know we’re all here to support you. Stop stressing yourself out,’ she says, and I turn to smile at her. ‘Thank you, Jen.’ ‘Don’t thank me, because now I’ve got bad news,’ she says, looking reluctant to speak, and I side-eye her. ‘What?’ ‘We have spectators.’ ‘We always have spectators.’ ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she says, turning me to look over to the bleachers which are a few metres away. And when I spot a group of ASP boys sat there, watching us and waving when I look over, my heart nearly stops. ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding,’ I mutter, putting my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun and see them properly. And of course he’s there. Of course he is.

I haven’t seen him since a week ago today, when I ran out of his room while he was fast asleep and did the most talked about ‘Walk of Shame’ at school in the past year. All week, everyone’s been talking about me and Jimin, and somehow the rumours have spiralled out of control. My friends have reported back that they’ve heard that Hoseok and Namjoon joined us when they walked in on us, that I left before Jimin could finish, that I cried and begged him to let me cum (which my friends have denied on my part despite it being kinda true) and that I left wearing no underwear and flashed everyone on my way out. And that’s not even the worst of the rumours. I’ve tried not to comment on it when people have asked me, and it seems Jimin’s stayed quiet too – I’m sure it would’ve been hot news if he’d said anything.

I woke up the next morning aching, my entire body sore and weak (I really have no idea how I managed to leave the frat house on my feet – it must have been the adrenaline). My neck, jaw and chest were covered in purpling marks, some of them in the shape of his rings, and my waist and ass were covered in dark painful bruises from his tight grip and the endless spanking (the marks and bruises are all still there, by the way, fading but there – I had to cake the makeup on top of them this morning to cover them in my skimpy cheer kit). It hurt to sit down for too long, but it hurt to walk too, so I spent all of Sunday lying down, Jennie nursing me back to health (as she calls it – in reality, she just microwaved some soup for me, and we binge-watched Netflix in bed together). My body isn’t used to intense sex like that because not many university boys are as good at sex as Jimin is. I hate to admit it, but I’ve been zoning out all week (during lectures and seminars, when I was with my friends, at the gym, whilst studying or watching TV, when I was trying to fall in sleep, whilst showering, etc.) thinking back to mind. And I hate it – I hate him. I used to think of him with irritation and borderline rage, but now… the thought of him turns me on. It’s infuriating. I haven’t even gone over to get my stuff – not even my favourite bra (it was sexy and comfy, lacy with no underwire) – for fear of falling back under his stupid spell and getting into his bed again.

When my eyes meet his, it’s like he knows that I’m wet, a small smirk playing at his glossy lips as he runs a vascular hand through his jet-black locks, silver rings glinting in the sunlight. He looks fucking gorgeous, in a pair of loose black slacks and a loose orange shirt, a simple but flattering outfit, with his silver earrings, rings and bracelets. And the irritation inside me pushes down the arousal, and I turn away angrily, hearing their laughter over my shoulder as my eyes meet Jennie’s. ‘I can go speak to them if you want?’ she offers weakly, and I sigh. ‘There’s nothing we can say; they’re allowed to be here. We’re just gonna have to ignore them,’ I say, and she nods, throwing an arm over my shoulders and leading me towards the table.

I oversee the proceedings, making sure everything’s going well, my mind still elsewhere, but after a few minutes, the noise they’re making is unbearable. They’re loud – laughter and shouting echoing around the pitch – and it’s starting to distract the squad, and the people here to try-out. ‘Should I go tell them to shut up?’ Jennie asks, and I nod, reluctant to go over myself. She walks over, hands on her hips, and I know she’s gonna give them hell. But then I start to doubt that when I see them laughing and joking with her, before she comes back over, my expectant gaze being met by her sheepish one. ‘Well?’ I ask, and she winces. ‘They said they don’t take orders from me – only from… the Cheer Captain,’ she says slowly, and I let out a noise of irritation. Jimin being an annoying, difficult, stupid dickhead, I can understand. The others? I thought they were my friends. But obviously they find this whole situation more amusing than anything. It’s not funny for me – I slept with the guy I’m supposed to hate the most! The guy that I do hate the most.

‘I really don’t want to go over there,’ I admit, and Jennie’s eyes soften with sympathy. ‘You don’t have to, y/n, don’t feel pressured. We can cope with their noise – it’s fine, babe,’ she says reassuringly, but I feel guilty. I remember how nervous I was at try-outs, and having a group of rowdy frat boys laughing and shouting every few seconds definitely wouldn’t have helped. It’s up to me as Captain to create a comfortable environment, and with them around, this isn’t comfortable at all. I sigh, shaking my head, before I say, ‘I’ll go.’ ‘Are you sure?’ she asks, and I nod, dread building up inside me. ‘Want me to come with?’ ‘No, you just stay and keep an eye on things.’

I begin walking over, eyes fixed on the ground, and I can literally feel their eyes on me, their anticipation practically palpable. Everyone sat around the pitch is whispering, watching, desperate to see Jimin and I interact after all the rumours of the last week, and I can feel it all, making my nerves build up with every step. When I’m a few feet away from the bleachers, I look up, my eyes instantly meeting his, and I stop, staring at them for a moment. He’s endlessly amused, the smirk on his lips unbearably irritating. ‘Hey, y/n,’ he says easily, a ripple of laughter running around the group, and I don’t reply, matching his light gaze with a hard stare of my own. ‘This isn’t funny, guys, and I would’ve thought you’d know better. How do you think they’re gonna feel when they’re doing their routines and you morons are laughing? None of you can do what they’re doing, not in a million years, so don’t you dare come and sit here to rub my personal life in my face without even thinking of how rude and disruptive you’re being. You should be ashamed,’ I say neutrally, not letting any emotion into my voice, because if I do, I’ll lose my temper completely like I did last week and end up screaming at them. The other boys have the courtesy to look embarrassed of themselves, but Jimin just continues to smirk at me, running his thumb over his plump lips. My insides churn with anger at him being such a dick, but I don’t say a thing, waiting for one of them to reply. ‘Sorry, y/n. We didn’t think,’ Jin says, apologetic, and the others mutter apologies too, all except Jimin. ‘Don’t apologise. Just shut up,’ I reply before turning on my heel, walking away and ignoring the indiscernible whispers and stifled laughter.

‘Whatever you said, it definitely worked,’ Jennie says, and I nod curtly, still pissed off. ‘You okay?’ she asks, and my shoulders slump. ‘No. I’m supposed to be the Captain, I’m supposed to be nice and smiley and kind, and now I’m just angry, because of them, because of him,’ I sigh tiredly, and Jen looks at me sadly before putting an arm around my shoulders. ‘Don’t let them get you worked up, babe – today’s important, okay? Just focus on the try-outs,’ Jennie says, and I nod, trying my best to let my annoyance go, but it’s easier said than done. I wait impatiently for the first part of today to be done, desperate to have something to do so I can distract myself. And as soon as the last person has finished speaking to Jisoo, I call for everyone’s attention, telling them to start warming up. I sit down with Irene, Jisoo, Jihyo and Chen, and we quickly put people in similar-ability groups, based on the notes that the four of them have made whilst speaking to them; potential flyers, bases and spotters, and tumblers. The routines aren’t too different – just to test their dancing ability, and to see if they have the kind of body control needed for their different positions.

Once we’ve grouped them, Irene reads out the groups, the flyers with Lisa and Seulgi, bases and spotters with Kai, and tumblers with Momo, the rest of the squad supporting. I take a seat at the desk, making notes on people who catch my eye (they’re all wearing little name stickers, so I send Jennie over to find out their names). Jiwon, the pretty sophomore from last week, is really good – her dancing is great, and she’s light on her feet, the perfect flyer. I’m already certain she’ll make the team, because she’s super smiley and energetic too (I wave at her when I catch her eye, and she waves back excitedly, huge smile on her face). Watching them all learning the dances, making notes, evaluating them, it gets me in the zone. Focusing on this, I’m in my Captain mindset, having completely forgotten about the stupid disruption earlier. There’s definitely some potential here, and I have no doubt we’ll do really well at Nationals this year – I’ll be pissed if we don’t come first (and I’ll also be the first Captain in ten years that doesn’t lead us to victory, which is a pretty big deal).

Once they’ve learnt their dances, we split each group in half so there are less people to focus on, and they perform the dances to us. They’re all quite good – there’s a couple people who, bless them, will definitely not make the team, and I feel bad, but I have to be ruthless. It’s my job to make sure I give us the best chance at winning. We give them a little break after they’ve performed, and we all sit together to compare notes. We’ve pretty much all put the same people down, but we can’t make any final decisions until we watch them do their Cheer moves. ‘Okay, is everybody ready?’ I ask after getting their attention. ‘We’re going to have a look at your moves now. So they’re pretty basic, nothing too strenuous. Can someone show them what they’ve got to do?’ I say, turning to face the squad, and before anyone can speak, Kai says, ‘y/n, you should. You’re the captain after all.’ I return his mischievous grin with a hard stare, but the others all give various agreements, pushing me to show them. ‘I haven’t even warmed up,’ I mutter, everyone laughing.

‘Okay, we’ll start with a basic standing split. So, you just lift your leg, whichever your better leg is, and bring it right up like this, with your arm in front of it, and hold it there for a few seconds,’ I say, my left leg up against my body, my right arm holding my foot above my head. It’s a little painful because I haven’t warmed up, but I’ve done this move enough times that it’s pretty easy. I hear applause a little distance away, knowing it’s those stupid boys, and then everyone trying out starts clapping too, making me drop my leg and laugh embarrassedly. ‘Okay, thanks, guys, you can stop now,’ I say lightly, and everyone starts laughing. I show them all of the other moves – a full split, a pike jump, a toe touch jump, a hurdler jump, a front flip, a back flip and an aerial, getting applause for each movement, triggered by our idiot spectators. ‘So we’ll call you up one-by-one, unless you’ve asked us to go with someone else, and we’d like you to a show us a clasp, a high V, a T motion, and then go into the moves that you’re confident with. Show us your personality – we want bright and bubbly people on the squad, so don’t be afraid to chant or whatever, if you want to,’ I say as I take my seat behind the desk, Irene, Chen, Jihyo, Jisoo and Jennie sat with me, the rest of the squad sat around on the grass, enjoying the warmth and just watching the proceedings.

After a couple of people, it starts to get repetitive, but I remain focused, knowing I need to pay attention to differentiate between the good and the great. Jiwon is fantastic – she’s making the team without a doubt. Once they’re all done (nearly two hours later), I call them all over to sit beside the desk. ‘Thank you all so much for coming, and well done. What you did takes a lot of courage and you should all be so proud of yourselves, whether you make the squad or not. We’ve got your details from earlier, so we’ll be in contact within the next couple days to let you know if you made it. Thank you, and you are free to go,’ I smile, all of them letting out expressions of gratitude as they get up, heading to the bleachers to get their stuff and go. ‘Jiwon!’ I call, the girl turning to look. ‘Can I have a word?’ I say, the girl telling her friends to wait for her as she walks towards me. I head over to her, and we meet in the middle of the pitch, with no-one around. I don’t want anyone to hear and accuse me of favouritism.

‘Hey, y/n.’ ‘Hi, Jiwon. You did a really good job, definitely shone through. You’re fantastic,’ I say, and she smiles shyly. ‘Thank you. I have been cheering for a long time, though, so I did have an advantage,’ she says humbly, and I wave it off. ‘Don’t give me excuses – just accept the compliment. Anyway, I probably shouldn’t say this, but you caught a lot of our eyes, Jiwon. I’m pretty certain you’ll make the squad. First practice is next Saturday, 2 ‘til 4, and we’re just gonna do an introductory session, get to know one another and have a proper look at what everyone can do. Make sure you’re on time, and ready to try out some stunts. And work on your pike jump over the week – your fingers were literally millimetres away from your toes. A little practice, and you’ll have it perfect. And you were the teeniest bit wobbly in your standing split, so just work on your balance a little,’ I say, and she nods enthusiastically, taking in every word. Whilst I’m speaking, I notice Jimin approaching us, and Jiwon does too, looking flustered when she spots him. But she sees the way I ignore him completely, and does the same, just listening to me.

‘Thank you, y/n, I really appreciate it. Also, can I ask for your advice about something?’ she asks, and I nod, surprised she wants my advice. Jimin is now stood right beside us, but neither of us pay attention to his presence, keeping our eyes on each other. ‘What do you do to warm up for your splits? I warm up, but it’s always painful when I do them, and you did them really well, so I thought I’d ask.’ ‘I do a lot of yoga, actually, which really helps. We always get here around twenty minutes before practice, and the others do laps and things like that to warm up, but I do a bit of yoga, which helps loosen my body a lot. And then, just before I start a routine, I bend in half, and hold my head against my shins for like half a minute, to loosen my legs. It’s a little painful, but it gets your legs ready for the stretch that you feel when you’re in the splits,’ I say, and she listens eagerly to every word. His presence is starting to bother me, especially the way he’s completely silent, a stupid smirk on his face. ‘Thank you, y/n. I’m gonna head off now, but thanks for the advice. Are you going to KPN’s party tonight?’ she asks, and I sigh, thinking back to the text invite that Jackson from Kappa Phi Nu sent out a couple days ago. ‘I’m not sure. I was gonna just head to the gym for a late-night workout but Jennie’s trying to convince me to go,’ I explain, and she nods. ‘Well, I hope you do come. It’d be nice to see you there,’ she says, and I smile at her, touched. And then I lose my patience, turning to him with annoyance, and he grins, draping his arms around our waists.

‘My two favourite girls,’ he says with a grin, making me want to slap him, and we both push his arms off us in disgust, moving away from him slightly. ‘Look at you two. Best friends now, huh? If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order,’ he says smugly, my eyes widening at him as Jiwon shoots him a dirty look. God, I love this girl. ‘Fuck you, Park,’ I say without thinking, and his eyes sparkle, mischief in his grin as he replies, ‘I already did, babe, keep up.’ And then he reaches into his back pocket, pulling his hand back out with something black and lacy hanging off his finger. My favourite bra. ‘Remember? You left this?’ ‘Park!’ I hiss, grabbing it from his hand and panicking for a moment, not sure where to put it (my cheer kit doesn’t have pockets) before I tuck it into his front pocket hastily. It’s too late, though, because everyone in the area who was watching saw it, laughter rippling around us. ‘I would’ve brought your pants too, but they were ripped, so I figured there was no point,’ he says, and I give him an angry stare, jaw hurting from how hard I’m clenching it. He just grins back, Jiwon looking between us for a few seconds before she says, ‘my friends are waiting for me, y/n, so I’m gonna go. I hope to see you later.’ ‘Okay, Jiwon. See you. Remember to work on your pike jump, and your standing splits. If you get here early, we can do some yoga together,’ I say, trying to push down the humiliation as the girl nods with a smile before she goes to join her friends who are watching us. Everyone’s watching us.

‘Your standing splits were good,’ he says, and I sigh, rolling my eyes. ‘I’m literally giving you a compliment!’ ‘I don’t care, you fucking dick.’ ‘Wow, never mind. I was gonna say that I could put your flexibility to good use, but forget it,’ he says, failing to hold back his grin, and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Why the fuck did you come, Park? I thought I made it clear last week that I’m not interested in you,’ I say harshly, hurt momentarily appearing on his face before he masks it with a smirk, making me feel a little guilty. ‘We always come to watch try-outs. Entertainment for a couple hours. And it doesn’t hurt seeing you in this kit either,’ he says, taking the hem of my skirt into his hand, fingers momentarily skimming against my thigh, and I slap his hand away, feeling exposed in my kit all of a sudden. It’s quite revealing – a short blue skirt with a white border and a long-sleeved blue cropped top with shoulder cut-outs, with our school name written across the chest in white. It’s super cute though, even more so with the white pumps and frilly white ankle socks, and the blue and white bows on our ponytails. The boys wear the same colour scheme, blue and white t-shirts and shorts.

‘I swear to God, Park, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today,’ I say tiredly, and he pouts, eyes still sparkling with amusement. ‘You were last week.’ ‘Things change. You can go now,’ I say pointedly, and he grins, taking a step closer to me, so close I can see every flaw on his face that he doesn’t have, and places a gentle hand on my waist. ‘I’ll go, but one last thing. I’ve gotta go drop my shit off in the changing rooms – Coach said we all have to, ready for next week – and I’ll wait in there for… hmm, shall I be nice? Okay, ten minutes. If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve been thinking about me, and what happened last Saturday, all week long. I have. And I want a round two. I’ll wait for ten minutes,’ he says, voice low and face serious, before his whole demeanour changes, smile stretching his lips, hand falling from my waist as he takes a step back. My lips are parted and face warm, eyes locked with his, and my obviously affected appearance makes him let out a chuckle. ‘Ten minutes, angel. If not, I’ll see you tonight, at KPN, and you can get your bra from me there instead,’ he says with a smile, before turning and walking away, leaving me slightly stunned.

‘Close your mouth, babe, you’ll catch flies,’ Jennie says drily, and I turn to look at her, trying to compose myself. ‘He just asked me for a round two in the changing rooms,’ I whisper, and she gasps loudly, catching the attention of everyone around us. ‘Shut up!’ I hiss, and she claps a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m just… shook. Are you gonna go?’ she asks, and I hesitate to answer, his dark eyes in my mind, my underwear embarrassingly damp. ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Bitch, stop kidding yourself – you want to, so just go,’ she says, but before I can reply, Kai joins us. ‘Um, y/n, there are a couple people waiting to ask you some questions,’ he says, and I sigh, looking over his shoulder to see some people hovering. I quickly rush over to them, listening to their questions (which are so unnecessary, might I add? Why do you need to know where to get the uniform from, or the date of Nationals this year, if you’re not even on the squad yet?) and answer them as quickly as I can, trying to be polite, but impatient, worried that my ten minutes will run out.

As soon as the last person’s done, Jennie grabs my arm and whispers, ‘it’s been nine minutes. I’ll pack stuff up, you just go.’ ‘Thank you, you’re the best,’ I whisper back. I rush off, speed walking across the pitch before someone can stop me, in the direction of the changing rooms. When I reach the door, I push it open slowly, listening out for any voices. And then I wonder – is this a prank? Is this payback for me leaving him last week? Are they all gonna be waiting there to jump out and laugh at me? But, no. He wouldn’t. Surely, he wouldn’t stoop that low? ‘Jimin?’ I whisper, hearing nothing back, and I venture in. ‘Jimin?’ I say a little louder, walking down the main aisle slowly, looking between the rows of lockers on either side of me. I call his name again, and when I reach the end of the lockers, stepping out into the open changing area, a wooden bench running around the walls, I feel a pair of hands push me up against the last locker, the metal clang echoing loudly around the room as I try to get my bearings, blinking to see Jimin stood in front of me, his body pressed up against mine.

‘You took eleven minutes, you fucking tease,’ he whispers, hand appearing at my throat and tightening instantly, my mind momentarily thinking back to last week, when he left bruises the shape of his rings around my neck. ‘Didn’t mean to. Got held up,’ I breathe out, and he pushes my head back at an unnatural angle, his dark eyes, blown wide with desire, locking with my own. ‘How can I believe you, after you left last week?’ he spits out, and I feel my stomach turn; I didn’t think he’d be that bothered, but it’s obvious he’s angry that I left him. ‘Never said I’d stay,’ I reply, with a small grin, and he growls angrily, pushing up against me even harder. ‘You’re the first girl that’s ever left without me telling her to. Trying to play me at my own game?’ he asks, amusement creeping into his voice, but he’s mainly angry, veins corded tight and body tense, fist curled and jaw clenched. ‘No. I just don’t like you,’ I reply, voice strained because of his hand tight at my neck, head beginning to go dizzy, and he lets out a humourless laugh.

‘Sure. Of course you don’t. Let’s see how much you don’t like me,’ he says, free hand pushing one of my legs out wider, so he has space to put his hand up my skirt. His finger slides beneath my tight safety shorts, and he lets out a laugh when he feels how wet my underwear is, making me look away from him in embarrassment. ‘Look at me,’ he demands, my eyes flitting back to his as he pushes my pants out of the way, swiping a finger along my dripping wet slit. I let out a shaky breath, and he chuckles. ‘I think you’re lying to me, angel. I think you actually do like me. A lot,’ he grins as he pulls his hand from my skirt, lifting his finger, glistening with my arousal, to my mouth. I keep my lips pressed shut, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t make me punish you. This isn’t a repeat of last week – there’s other things I want to do to you,’ he says lowly, a thrill running through me, but I’m still as stubborn as last week. ‘I’m not here for a round two. I’m here for my bra,’ I exhale, and he rolls his eyes with a little laugh, his hand tightening at my neck. ‘You can earn it.’ ‘What is it… with you stealing my… things?’ ‘I didn’t steal anything. You left your bra when you did your little walk of shame. So it’s mine now – it’s been in my room for a week, with your tight jeans and your pretty top and those cute heels, and that little bag, with your keys and lip-gloss and pads in it. And because it’s all mine, I want you to earn it back,’ he replies before leaning down and pressing his lips to my ear, his beautiful scent flooding my senses.

‘Let me fuck your tits,’ he whispers, making my stomach clench with the thought of it, before he pulls back from me, searching my face for any kind of reaction. ‘And they say romance is dead,’ I whisper dryly, and he laughs, a startled laugh, as though he wasn’t expecting a joke from me. It makes my heart flutter a little, which then makes me want to slap myself. ‘Is that a yes?’ he asks with a mischievous grin. ‘No. It isn’t,’ I reply, and he sighs before letting go of me. ‘Fine. Let’s just talk then, if you don’t wanna fuck,’ he says neutrally, sitting down on the bench opposite me, and I’m disarmed at his sudden 180. ‘Sit down, y/n,’ he says, motioning to the bench and, for once, I listen to him, sitting down. He leans back against the wall and runs a hand through his hair, legs spread, thick thighs on display. Last week, the lighting from his bedroom lamp was low and sultry, but the lighting in here is bright and cold, and he still looks fucking gorgeous.

‘Who did you tell?’ he asks, and I know he’s asking what I’ve been wondering all week – who actually knows the full story. ‘Who did you tell?’ I ask, purposely being difficult, and he rolls his eyes, grin pulling at his lips. ‘Hobi and Tae are the only ones that know the full story. Jin, Yoongi, Joon and Kook know vaguely. Now tell me who you told,’ he says, and I’m surprised he’s kept it only to his closest friends – I thought for sure the whole frat would know. ‘y/n. Who did you tell?’ Nayeon, Lisa, Mina, Irene, Dahyun, Yeri, Jeongyeon, Seulgi, Sana, Jisoo, Chaeyoung, Joy, Momo, Wendy, Jihyo, Tzuyu and- ‘Jennie.’ ‘That’s it? Just Jennie?’ ‘And.. a couple of the other girls.’ He raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing me. ‘Did you tell them everything?’ ‘Only Jennie knows about me leaving when you… wanted me not to,’ I say, and he nods, looking a little embarrassed, and I feel so guilty, but I had to. ‘Why did you do it?’ he asks quietly, and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. ‘Because… we’re supposed to hate each other, and we had sex, Jimin. I couldn’t share a bed with you after that, I just… couldn’t.’ ‘Would it really be so bad if we didn’t hate each other?’ he asks, and I sigh, not wanting him to ask these questions, not wanting him to entertain this possibility. Because Jimin’s the type of boy to want what he can’t have, and as soon as I let him have me, more than just physically, he won’t want me anymore.

I get up and walk over to him, his eyes on me, and when I’m stood right in front of him, in between his legs, I drop to my knees. ‘y/n,’ he says slowly, as though he wants me to wait, but I can’t talk about this right now. ‘Shut up,’ I say before pulling my top over my head and throwing it behind me, leaving me in my bra. He’s quickly distracted, eyes lost in my chest, and I can see the bulge in his jeans growing already. I lift a hand to his crotch, palming him over his jeans, and his head falls back, a little moan falling from his lips. ‘Please, y/n, don’t tease,’ he breathes out, and I clench involuntarily at getting him like this. ‘Take your jeans off,’ I whisper, and he quickly unbuttons and unzips them, holding himself up from the bench and pushing them down with his underwear, just enough to free his cock. He’s only half-hard, but he’s already big, girthy and long, making me lick my lips at the sight of him. He tugs on his length a couple times to get himself fully hard, letting out little grunts, and I feel more arousal dampen my underwear. After a few seconds, I push his hands away, taking his length into my hands, and he shuffles forwards on the bench, giving me proper access to his cock.

I collect my saliva up on my tongue and spit at his dick, the saliva landing on his tip and slowly dripping down his length. I use my hand to spread it out before I take his swollen head into my mouth, kitten licking the tip before swirling my tongue around him. He pulls my bow out of my hair and grabs my ponytail, but restrains himself from trying to control my movements, letting me take my time with him. I don’t wait long before I’m taking him as far into my mouth as possible, before slowly bobbing my head up and down his length. ‘God, angel, your mouth is so fucking good. So good for me, such a dirty girl,’ he praises, head back against the wall but eyes on me, and when I look up at him through my lashes, he grins down at me. I hollow out my cheeks, trying to get my lips around the base of his cock, but my jaw is already hurting from my mouth being around his thick length. ‘Get me all the way in, baby, I know you can,’ he prompts, and I try my hardest, gagging around him, and it’s so fucking messy, saliva around my mouth and dripping down my chin. He decided to help, pushing my head even further down, and when my nose hits his skin, his abdomen contracts, a heavenly moan of my name falling from his lips.

Once I deem his cock sufficiently wet, I remove him from my mouth and reach behind me to unclasp my sports bra, pulling it off, feeling satisfied when his eyes are locked on my breasts. ‘Stand up,’ I say, and he does so, quickly, moving aside to let me sit on the bench. I perch on the edge, knees together, and Jimin stands in front of me, one leg on either side of mine. ‘Push your tits together for me, angel,’ he says, and I do so, the boy moving even closer to me. I feel his head against the bottom of my breasts, wet and hard, before slowly pushing up, breath catching in his throat as he goes as far as he can, his pink tip emerging through my cleavage. ‘Fuck, that feels good. Hold them tighter, babe,’ he says, and it starts to hurt when I do so, but the pleasure on his face as he thrusts, fucking my tits aggressively, more than makes up for it. I spit down into the valley of my breasts, for better lubrication, and he lets out a moan, thrusting even harder. And then he lifts a hand, landing a slap on one of my breasts. ‘Um, ow,’ I say, and he lets out a little chuckle, his thrusting not faltering for a moment. ‘So soft. Best tits I’ve ever seen,’ he says, landing a slap on the other, and I stop myself from slapping his balls because I don’t want to kill his vibe. And he’d probably enjoy it, the kinky bastard. I look down to see precum leaking from his tip, and I lean down, meeting one of his thrusts with my tongue, licking his precum, and he lets out a moan. ‘God, yes, baby. So good for me,’ he grunts, before his thrusts start to slow, until he eventually moves away from me.

‘Love your tits, angel, but I wanna cum in you instead,’ he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the bench. ‘Put your clothes back on,’ he says, my eyes widening in confusion. ‘What? Why?’ ‘Because I’ve always wanted to fuck you while you’re wearing your cheer kit. Hurry up and put it on before I decide to leave,’ he says pointedly, and I feel guilt surge through me as I grab my bra from the floor, pulling it back on, and turning around for him to clasp it for me. He does so, taking ages (it seems he’s better at taking bras off than putting them on), and then I pull my top back over my head. As soon as I’m redressed, he pushes me up against the nearest locker, winding me, before his hand strays down to beneath my skirt. ‘You gonna take these booty shorts off before I rip them off you?’ he says, plump lips against my neck, and I push him off, quickly pulling off my safety shorts (these are the only pair I have at the moment – I ordered a pair online and they’re due in a couple weeks – so I really don’t need him ripping them). ‘They’re safety shorts, not booty shorts,’ I mutter, as I kick them off, and he doesn’t waste any time in pushing me up against the lockers again. He presses his lips to mine in a tame kiss (he doesn’t even use his tongue), mouths moving together for a few seconds before he pulls away, sinking to his knees.

‘You’ve been on your knees for me twice now, baby, so I think it’s time I repaid the favour. And I believe I promised to eat your pussy with my… pretty lips,’ he says, quoting my words from last week, and my stomach turns as he grabs the front of my underwear. He violently pulls at them, tearing them away from my body, and I refrain from kneeing him in the face for ruining a second pair of pants. He pushes my legs apart before pulling one over his shoulder, his face inches from where I need him. ‘Jimin… please,’ I whine, and he chuckles, expelling warm air across my dripping wet core, making me shudder. ‘See, baby, you’re being so good for me today, saying my name, and begging like a good girl. And good girls don’t get punished, don’t get spanked until their ass is raw. Good girls get rewarded,’ he says before his head disappears beneath my skirt and I feel him lick a slow bold stripe across my slit, my hips jerking at the feeling, pushing my core closer to his face. He swirls his tongue around my clit, and I let out a whimper of his name, making him chuckle as he grabs onto my waist to hold me in place. ‘So fucking sweet, angel. Best pussy I’ve ever tasted. Could eat you all day.’ He laps at me like there’s no tomorrow, my hands gripping onto his strong shoulders and head thrown back against the lockers. He brings his fingers to my clit, rubbing slow circles, at the stimulation at my bundle of nerves paired with his long, quick licks have me moaning out his name, my stomach already tightening with the threat of an orgasm.

And then he pushes a finger between my folds, pumping in and out of me as I clench around him. ‘Gotta stretch you out for my fat cock, baby, take it like a good girl. Stop clenching, babe,’ he murmurs soothingly against my inner thigh, his thick finger quickly being joined by another. ‘Ah, Jimin, feels so fucking good,’ I moan out, and he hums in response before attaching his lips to my clit, sucking at the bundle of nerves before adding another finger, three thick digits stretching me out. ‘Such a good little slut for me, angel. You take my fingers so fucking well,’ he says, lips still against my clit, and I feel my high nearing quickly, moans and whimpers escaping from my lips every few seconds. He’s so good with his mouth, his plump lips wrapping around my clit and sucking harshly, before he licks along my folds, fingers still pumping into me, curling against my spongy spot every few seconds, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. And he knows it, the pace of his fingers ever increasing, his lips and tongue attacking my core with passion.

And then we hear the door of the changing room open, followed by a group of loud male voices, laughing and joking. Before I can even register it, Jimin’s on his feet, scooping me into his arms and practically sprinting into the shower area, rushing into one of the cubicles. He puts me down carefully, a hand over my mouth, and I feel my orgasm fading away because of the fear of being caught by his teammates. And in my mind, the logical thing to do is to be silent and wait for them to leave, right? But Jimin isn’t logical, and he pushes me up against the brick wall, pumping his cock in his free hand. He removes his hand from my mouth, tapping my left leg before tapping his shoulder, and I get the message, putting my leg up over his shoulder, despite thinking that this is a terrible idea. And then he puts his hand back over my mouth before slowly sliding into me, his huge cock stretching me out painfully, filling me up completely, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to moan out his name, my head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. ‘What was that?’ I hear one of the boys say, the others asking what he’s talking about, and I feel panic fill me. But along with the panic is arousal at the idea of being caught, my pussy gushing around him, and he smirks, slowly thrusting into me, the curve of his dick allowing him to hit my g-spot (I’m certain Megan wrote Captain Hook about him).

I hear footsteps nearing us, before they stop abruptly. ‘Oh, my God,’ I hear a voice say quietly, before more footsteps can be heard. ‘What?’ ‘Look.’ ‘Whoa. Is that…?’ ‘Yes. One of the cheerleader’s bows.’ Panic strikes through me, and Jimin just grins, continuing to fuck me slowly, making me feel every inch of him. ‘And those are the shorts they wear, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘And are those… pants?’ ‘Yep. And they look ripped.’ ‘Is someone fucking in here?’ ‘No, we’d be able to hear them. They’re probably gone.’ ‘You think?’ ‘Yes. And I don’t wanna double check. Let’s just go.’ I feel my fear ebbing away as the footsteps get quieter before the door opens and closes. We’re both silent for a few moments, just to make sure they’re gone, before Jimin pulls all the way out of me, slamming back in. I let out a loud moan against his hand, which he moves to rest at the base of my throat, cock hammering into me ruthlessly. ‘Look how wet you are for me, baby. My little bitch likes the idea of getting caught with a fat cock inside her, huh? Does the idea of being walked in on turn you on, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, moans falling from my lips every few seconds as he slams into me, the drag of his cock against my walls making me weak.

‘Taking me so well, angel, letting me fill you up and stretch you out so good, baby,’ he praises, voice strained with effort, as he pounds into me, my mind completely blank of anything, of everything but him. I feel my orgasm nearing, my walls clenching around him, but that doesn’t stop him plunging into me, hard, his balls slapping up against my ass, one hand gripping onto his shoulder whilst the other is splayed against the cold wall. My leg is beginning to hurt being up against his shoulder, especially because all my body weight is resting on the toes of my other foot (I can’t get my whole foot on the floor), but he seems to be enjoying it, able to go deep into me at this angle, his tip hitting my cervix. ‘Look how flexible you are, baby, stretching for me like a good little whore. Gonna put your flexibility to good use all the time, babe – I’ll help keep you in shape for Cheer,’ he promises, fingers straying to my clit as he speaks. And then I feel him twitching inside me. ‘Are you close?’ I ask, and he nods, eyes fluttering shut, and I reach down to cup his balls, trying to push him over the edge. ‘Ah, fuck, feels good, y/n, your pussy’s so fucking good. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up like a good little slut,’ he breathes out, and I tighten around him, his head falling back as he lets out a loud moan of my name, hot cum shooting out of his cock, painting my walls. He continues thrusting, hips stuttering as he works himself through his orgasm, and I stay clenched around him to prolong his high.

Once he’s done, he pulls out, and puts me down carefully, taking a moment to get his breath back before tucking his softening cock into his underwear, zipping himself back up. He looks up at me with a grin, his hair messy, face still glistening with my arousal, eyes dark. ‘Good talk,’ he grins before turning and walking away. ‘Um, Jimin?’ I call after him, stepping out of the cubicle with shaky legs. ‘Yes, y/n?’ he asks, turning to look at me, eyes sparkling with mirth. ‘I didn’t…’ I trail off, unsure of what to say. ‘What? You didn’t cum?’ he asks, and I nod, my stomach twisting with hurt when he smirks and says, ‘I know, angel. Only good girls get to cum. And good girls don’t leave in the middle of the night after being asked to stay.’ My mouth drops open at the thought that he’s not going to make me cum, and he grins even wider, before taking a little pity on me. ‘I’ll tell you what, baby. Come to KPN tonight and come find me, and I’ll make you cum as many times as you want,’ he says, but I’m still furious. ‘You’re not being serious?’ ‘Deadly.’ ‘Jimin, please,’ I say, and he just grins back at me. ‘You might wanna clean yourself up. Got my cum dripping down your leg,’ he says, and I look down to see his thick white release slowly trailing down my skin. I curse under my breath, and when I look back up, Jimin’s already out of sight, whistling a merry tune, before I hear the changing room door open and close behind him. And when I slowly walk towards the lockers, I realise my bow, safety shorts and ripped pants are gone too. And he still hasn’t given me back my favourite bra.

I head over to the sinks to clean myself up, cursing at him the entire time. ‘Fucking bastard, and his stupidly big fat fucking cock, stealing all my stuff and leaving me high and dry with his fucking cum dripping down my fucking leg. Didn’t even give me any fucking aftercare, fucking dick,’ I rant angrily as I take my hair out of its messy ponytail, running my fingers through it. Luckily, I haven’t sweated off any of my makeup, the fading marks from last week fully covered, but it’s still clear I’ve just been fucked. And the fact that I don’t have anything on under my skirt isn’t helpful at all – thank God it isn’t windy today because otherwise, I’ll be flashing everyone. Once I’ve deemed myself okay to leave, I push open the changing room doors, looking side to side to make sure no one’s around before I slip out of the door, quickly making my way to mine and Jennie’s accommodation, trying to ignore how desperate I am for a release right now. And not just any release – one on Jimin’s cock. But that’ll have to wait for later – I’ve got a party to get ready for.

‘Jennie! y/n!’ Yeri exclaims when we walk into the kitchen through the back door, throwing her arms around us in a hug. ‘Hey, Yeri,’ we reply, hugging her back, and when she moves away, her eyes widen. ‘Jen, you look good, but y/n! You look good, girl!’ she exclaims. ‘Oh, thanks, Yeri,’ Jennie says sarcastically, but she doesn’t mean it – Jennie always opts for comfort over fashion at frat parties, usually wearing mom jeans, or a loose t-shirt dress (which she rocks by the way – no one pulls off the casual aesthetic like Jennie). And I never dress up too much, sticking to a simple outfit and dressing it up with heels and jewellery. But today, I decided to go all out, dressing to impress in a tight little black dress, hem around my upper thighs, ruched with a bardot neck (I had to forgo a bra, and used tit tape instead to make sure they don’t sag). I’m in a pair of black sparkly heels, much higher than last week’s, with a silver choker, silver hoops and a thin silver bracelet. Jennie has on a shoulder bag, big enough to fit my things in it, so I didn’t bother with a bag, my phone in my hand and my lipgloss, oil blotting sheets and keys in Jennie’s bag. ‘Thanks, Yeri. But look at you! This top is so cute!’

We greet all our friends, Jeongyeon pushing cups into mine and Jennie’s hands (I’m not sure what it is but it tastes nice), before I take a seat between Tzuyu and Lisa at the kitchen island, instantly getting into a conversation about Cheer. KPN parties are always really laidback – people wear whatever they want, drink whatever they want, and I never feel uncomfortable here, or pressured to act a certain way. I can just be myself, and enjoy the night with my friends. ASP’s the opposite in the sense that there’s always pressure – to look good, to end the night with someone, to give everyone something to gossip about.

‘y/n! You came!’ Jackson exclaims when he sees me, pulling me into an expensive smelling hug. ‘Hey, Jackson!’ ‘I was about to make a comment about how late you are, but you look really good, so I’ll let you off,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. ‘Since when do you have to arrive to parties at a certain time?’ ‘You wouldn’t know, y/n, you’re always fashionably late,’ Tzuyu teases, and I cover my face with embarrassment – never have I arrived at a party before my friends (there’s just something about being there before the party has properly started that makes me want to cringe). ‘Anyway, what are you ladies drinking?’ ‘Diet Coke,’ Tzuyu says as she holds her cup up, Lisa drinking the same. ‘I’m drinking whatever the hell this is – Jeongyeon gave it to me,’ I say, and Jackson takes the cup, sipping from it, before his eyes widen. ‘Yo, this shit slaps. Where’s Jeongyeon? I want some,’ he says, turning away in search of her, and I call after him, ‘get me some more too, please!’

‘So… y/n,’ Lisa says with a knowing grin, making me raise an eyebrow at her. ‘Yes?’ I ask, she and Tzuyu exchanging an amused glance. ‘This dress is nice,’ Tzuyu says with the same knowing look as Lisa, and I look between them suspiciously. ‘Thanks,’ I say slowly, their smiles widening even more. ‘Who are you dressing to impress?’ Lisa asks, and I realise where this conversation is going, letting out a laugh. ‘Ah, you two. Can a girl not dress for herself?’ I grin, both of them raising their eyebrows. ‘Of course. But the timing’s a little suspicious. Not hoping for a round two, are we?’ Tzuyu asks, and I bite my lip embarrassedly. ‘What if we already had round two?’ I say quietly, both of their mouths falling open. ‘What?’ Lisa exclaims, drawing the attention of those around us, and I shut my eyes despairingly. ‘Keep your voice down, stupid!’ Tzuyu exclaims, Lisa murmuring an apology, still looking at me with wide eyes. ‘When?’ ‘Earlier, after practice. I met him in their changing rooms,’ I say, both of them looking even more shocked with each word. ‘Oh, my God! You two are, like, stuck in your own little forbidden and scandalous romance!’ Lisa whispers, and I shoot her a hard look. ‘It’s not a romance. He’s still, like, the most annoying and stupid person I’ve ever met. I mean, he literally left without making me cum, on purpose. He said if I showed up here tonight, he’d make it up to me,’ I whisper, both of them gasping quietly. ‘No way!’ Tzuyu says, and I nod. ‘So you’re gonna have a round three?’ Lisa asks, and I shrug. ‘I’m actually not sure. I don’t know whether I came so that I could leave with him, or so that I could piss him off by getting with someone else,’ I say, both of their eyes lighting up. ‘Get with someone else,’ they chorus, and I let out a gentle laugh.

Before I can reply, Jackson reappears with two cups in hand. ‘It’s Fireball Whisky with cream soda,’ he says, and I blink in surprise, not sure whether to be impressed or disgusted at Jeongyeon’s weird concoction. He takes the empty cup from my hand and hands me a new one, and I thank him as I take a sip. It really is good, and I know I need to be careful not to drink too much – I’ll forget just how strong whisky is and then find myself hunched over the toilet in a few hours, vomiting it all back up. ‘Are you guys gonna just sit here and chat all night? This is a party! We’re supposed to be having a good time,’ Jackson says, and I exchange a glance with the girls. ‘We are having a good time,’ Tzuyu replies mildly, and Jackson rolls his eyes. ‘So you’re not gonna come dance?’ he asks, and we all shake our heads. As much as I do love getting lit, it’s nice to just have a gossip with the girls sometimes. ‘Maybe later,’ I say, and he frowns, shaking his head. ‘You guys are boring.’ ‘Go find Joy, she’ll dance with you,’ Tzuyu suggests, and Lisa nods before adding, ‘and Dahyun. Come find us in a couple hours, and then we’ll dance with you too.’

Jackson quickly disappears, calling out for Joy and Dahyun, and the spot where he was stood is quickly occupied by a boy who I recognise as Chan, one of the boys on the team and a KPN brother. ‘Hi, Chan,’ Tzuyu says, the boy giving us a smile. ‘Hi, guys. You’re all cheerleaders, right?’ he asks, and we nod, confused as to where he’s going with this. ‘Do you wear these, like… little black shorts under your cheer outfits? Like super small, tight, black shorts?’ he asks, and I realise, dread flooding through me as we all nod. ‘They’re called safety shorts,’ Lisa says, and Chan nods. ‘I thought so. We saw a pair earlier, in the changing rooms, with one of the bows you guys wear, and some… underwear. Ripped. So I was just… curious, I guess,’ he says, Tzuyu and Lisa both turning their gazes to me. ‘Um… Chan, I’d be really grateful if you didn’t mention that to anyone,’ I say embarrassedly, the girls stifling laughs as Chan’s face falls with shock. ‘Oh! They were yours?’ he asks, and I nod, totally humiliated. ‘Who was, um, with you when you came in? There was just a couple of you, right?’ I ask, and he winces. ‘There were a few of us, actually. But it’s fine, I’ll tell them not to mention it to anyone. Your secret’s safe with us, y/n,’ he says with a grin, and I give him a weak smile. ‘Thanks, Chan.’ ‘No problem. Before I never mention it again, I just have one question,’ he says tentatively, and I close my eyes briefly, nodding as I brace myself. ‘Were you… in there when we went in?’ he asks, and I take a deep breath before nodding, his eyes widening. ‘In the shower cubicles, right?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘I thought I heard a banging noise,’ he says, and the girls burst out laughing. ‘No, no, it’s because I hit my head on the wall,’ I explain over their laughter, even more embarrassed now. ‘Sorry,’ Chan says, and I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, it’s my own fault for fucking in a public place,’ I say bluntly, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

The girls are still laughing when Chan leaves with the promise of never mentioning it again, and I shoot them dirty looks. ‘Are you gonna stop laughing any time soon or should I just go?’ I ask venomously, and their laughter gets even louder, making me roll my eyes. ‘Fine. I’m going,’ I say, pushing myself off my seat and leaving with my phone and drink in my hands, their laughter continuing behind me. I decide to venture into the living room, but regret my decision the second I walk in and lock eyes with Hyunjin – Chan’s whispering something to him, and he bites down on his lip when he sees me, obviously holding back a laugh at the irony of seeing me as Chan fills him in. I turn on my heel, instantly heading back into the kitchen and ignoring Hyunjin’s loud laughter behind me. But when my eyes meet Lisa’s and she bursts out laughing again, Tzuyu laughing too, I make a decision – I want to go home. I know none of them mean anything by it but it’s really… getting to me. I don’t like that nearly every conversation I’ve had in the last week has come back to Jimin – in fact, I hate it. I’m more than my sexual escapades, whether or not they’re with my worst enemy. I came here to have a good time with my friends tonight – not to speak about my sex life.

‘Mark,’ I say, catching the boy beside me offguard. ‘Oh, hey, y/n. You okay?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘I’m great. You?’ ‘I’m good, thanks. What’s up? You look… stressed.’ ‘I’m okay, I just… have you seen Jennie?’ I ask, and he nods, taking me by surprise. ‘I saw her go out the back door a couple minutes ago, with Seulgi and Nayeon,’ he says, and I grin at him. ‘Thank you, Mark, you’re the best!’ I exclaim, not giving him a second to reply before I quickly head towards the back door, ducking through the doorway before anyone else can speak to me. There’s a group of boys stood near the door, passing around a joint, and I quickly head past them, eyes skimming over the surroundings to see if the girls are here. I spot their three dark heads close together, looking at something on Seulgi’s phone, and I rush over. Nayeon spots me first, concern on her face as she watches me head towards them. ‘What’s the matter, y/n?’ she asks, the other two girls looking up at hearing my name. ‘I… I’m gonna leave,’ I say, all three of them looking at me in surprise – you usually have to drag me away from a party. ‘Why? You look hot, girl! You can’t waste this look!’ Seulgi exclaims, throwing an arm around my shoulders, and I give her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Seulgi, but I just… I’m fed up of being teased about Jimin. Maybe it’s God punishing me for sleeping with him, but for fuck’s sake, isn’t him being an idiot punishment enough? I don’t need everyone bringing it up every two fucking seconds,’ I complain, the three of them exchanging amused glances.

‘Oh, babe, it sucks, but you’ve gotta be thick skinned. You have to remember that you have publicly hated him for as long as we’ve all known you, pretty much. The fact that you’ve slept with him is, like, a big deal. It’s hot gossip. Of course people are gonna want to talk about it, and you are gonna get teased. You can’t let it get to you, or people will do it even more,’ Jennie says rationally, and I know she’s right, but I still don’t want to accept it, pouting. ‘I know, you’re right, but I’m already in a bad mood now, and I just wanna go home,’ I say, and I know I’m being immature, but I don’t care. I notice Nayeon’s eyes wander from me to over my shoulder and then she says, ‘well, someone’s coming over, and I don’t whether he’s going to make your mood better or worse.’ I sigh, wanting to cry, and I can feel Seulgi holding back a laugh. ‘Shall I tell him to fuck off?’ Jennie asks, and I shake my head – I don’t have the energy to fight with him today.

‘y/n,’ I hear his stupid voice say, before he appears beside me. He’s dressed in all black, tight ripped jeans and a black button-up shirt, the top two buttons undone and revealing tanned and freckled skin, with a leather jacket over the top of it. He’s wearing silver jewellery again, rings, earrings, bracelets and a necklace, and he looks really fucking handsome, like always. He looks me up and down, his eyes nearly falling out of his head at my appearance as he sweeps his black hair back with one hand, before he looks at my face, the shock being replaced with concern. ‘You okay?’ he asks, and him caring about me makes me want to run a mile – he’s supposed to hate me, not worry when I’m upset and annoyed. ‘I… don’t know,’ I say tiredly, not quite sure what to say, and he looks even more concerned at that. ‘Shall we… give you guys a minute?’ Jennie says, and I look at her in surprise. She just looks back at me with a sad smile, and then I realise; she’s knows that there’s more to this, to me and… Jimin, than just two people who fucked even though they hate each other. And so do I, the thought terrifying me. His feelings are involved, and maybe mine are too, and I already know this is gonna get messy, messier than it should. But I don’t really have it in me to put a stop to it right now. I think I must have hurt him a lot when I left him last week (the thought of him waking up to an empty bed when he thought I would be there beside him makes me feel sick to my stomach) and I don’t ever want to hurt someone like that again. Even if it that someone is Jimin, the most annoying, stupid, selfish, egotistic, infuriating, big-headed person to ever walk the Earth.

I stay silent, and Jimin takes that as a sign to nod at the girls, all of them giving me little hugs before they head back up towards the house. The few people that are outside are watching interestedly and I want to just tell them to all fuck off. I used to think I’d love being the centre of attention all the time, but I’ve definitely changed my mind. ‘What’s the matter, y/n?’ he asks gently, and I sigh, not meeting his eyes as I think, not sure what to tell him. He stays quiet as he waits for me to speak, which leaves us in a heavy silence. ‘I… I’m just fed up. All anyone’s been speaking to me about is you and I don’t like it because there’s more to talk about to me than my sex life, and I hate that people are always staring at me now and probably thinking all these things about me when they barely know me and everyone’s making me regret sleeping with you but I don’t want to regret it because it was good and I enjoyed it and it was with you, but I don’t know why that’s making me not regret it but I kind of do know because I don’t think that I see you the same as I used to anymore, which is something else I hate because I’m supposed to hate you, and I do but I also don’t think I do, and I’m so confused, and I just want to go home,’ I say miserably all in one breath, and he looks a little taken aback, but nods when I’m finished speaking. ‘I… I’ve been thinking a lot of the same things the last week, and I’m confused too. So if it’s any consolation, I know how you feel,’ he says, and somehow… it is consolation. I already knew his feelings towards me had changed, but hearing that he feels all the other stuff too, it does make me feel better. But I’m a stubborn bitch.

‘No, actually, I’m not sure you do know how I feel. Because I didn’t make it harder for you. I didn’t show up somewhere solely to piss you off, and laugh with my friends to make you feel self-conscious, and be all smug and amused and rude to you, and pull your underwear out of my pocket in front of everyone to embarrass you. So no, Jimin, you don’t know how I feel,’ I reply angrily, unable to help myself, but it’s true – he made this all a hundred times worse at try-outs earlier, and I am angry at him for it. I wait for him to get angry in return, to point out that I probably didn’t make it any better for him by being a bitch, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he just nods, his head dropping sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to, I promise – I never intended to piss you off or to make you feel self-conscious or to embarrass you. I tend to… not think before I do things, and I guess my pride was hurt that you left so I wanted to just save face. And I shouldn’t have… left you earlier. I was just being petty and wanted to get back at you. I’m really sorry,’ he says earnestly, and I’m shocked into silence for a few moments, before I nod.

‘Okay. I accept your apology,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘I’m glad. Now… shall I take you home?’ he asks, and I blink in surprise. ‘What?’ ‘You said you wanted to go home so do you want me to take you?’ he offers, and I hesitate for a moment. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because I’m supposed to hate you, and you’re supposed to hate me,’ I whisper, and he raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer to me. ‘Like I said earlier… would it really be so bad if we didn’t hate each other?’ he replies quietly, and I’m silent. ���I don’t… I don’t know. It’s kinda… scary to think about. And it’s just easier to hate you. And…’ I trail off, and an amused smile appears on his stupid face. ‘You’re too stubborn to not hate me when you’ve hated me for so long, right?’ he says, seeing right through me, and I nod sheepishly. ‘We really need to work on your stubbornness, because I can see a future for us, y/n. If you could just give in to your feelings for me, we could pursue something together,’ he grins, but there’s no humour, no amusement in his voice at all, his honesty nearly winding me. He throws an arm around my shoulders and slowly walks us back up to the house. ‘A future? For you and me?’ I echo, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘Yeah! We’ll get married as soon as we finish Uni, have a load of kids, and they can become footballers and cheerleaders to follow in our footsteps,’ he says, and I choke, making him let out a loud laugh. ‘Okay, maybe not as soon as we finish Uni. I’ll make that sacrifice.’ ‘Thanks.’ ‘Of course, angel. Anything for you.’

The second we step into the house, all eyes in the kitchen look up at us. ‘Can we help you?’ Jimin asks evenly, daring them to say something, and they’re all silent. ‘Thought so,’ he mutters, leading us over to where the drinks are as conversation resumes around us, albeit much quieter now. Jimin eyes the dozens of bottles covering the countertop before his eyes flit to the cup in my hand. ‘What you drinking, babe?’ he asks quietly, and I hold my drink up for him to try. ‘You trying to roofie me?’ he grins, and I let out a little laugh. ‘It’s Fireball whisky and cream soda. Jeongyeon’s concoction,’ I say, and he grimaces before trying some, his face instantly changing. ‘Oh, wow, that’s good,’ he says, reaching for the whisky bottle to pour himself some. ‘Did you just arrive?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘I literally got here, walked into the kitchen, saw you weren’t in here, asked Mark where you were, and he said you were outside. I was coming to apologise,’ he says, and my heart warms. ‘To be honest… I should apologise too,’ I say, and his mouth drops open. ‘I can’t believe my ears. Is stubborn y/n finally discarding her pride?’ ‘Shut up, stupid,’ I laugh, shoving him gently, and he grins. ‘You don’t have to apologise, angel. You were scared that we didn’t hate each other, so you left, and then you were a bitch to me so that I’d hate you. That’s it. Don’t worry about it,’ he says, and I nod, grateful that I don’t have to apologise.

‘Okay,’ he says once he’s poured his drink, ‘shall we get away from all the staring?’ I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs. ‘I didn’t mean that, but if you’re down. I still owe you from earlier,’ he says lowly with a smirk, and my breath catches in my throat. ‘Um… maybe later. Let’s… see what’s going on in the rest of the house,’ I say, and he nods, grinning at my flustered state. And then he takes my hand into his, our fingers laced together, and a little shock runs up my arm at the contact. I nearly slap myself – he was rearranging my guts earlier, but I’m getting butterflies at him holding my hand? Really?

He leads me into the living room, several pairs of eyes turning to us, but he completely ignores them, so I do too. ‘You wanna stay in here?’ he asks over the loud music, and I shake my head. He nods, continuing to lead us through the room into the front hallway. The layout is the same as the ASP house, so Jimin knows his way around, leading me through the hallway and pushing open the door to the other living room, where it’s considerably more chill. The haze of weed lays heavy on the air, music gently pulsing through the room, and there are a lot less people in here, majority the boys on the football team with their girlfriends. ‘Oh, y/n, Chan spoke to me, I…’ Felix calls to me before his eyes land on Jimin behind me, his words trailing off when he spots our intertwined hands. ‘Yeah, it’s… yeah,’ I say, a little embarrassed, and Felix just nods, holding back a laugh when Jimin looks between us. ‘What did Chan speak to you about, Lix?’ Jimin asks, and I cringe. ‘They’re the ones that walked into the changing rooms earlier,’ I say under my breath, and he lets out a little noise of realisation with a nod, a smirk playing at his lips as he looks at Felix, the boy looking endlessly amused. ‘Oh, are you guys talking about how we walked in on you in the changing room?’ Jisung calls out tactlessly, and I close my eyes, gathering myself, as laughter ripples around the room. ‘You know what? Let’s just leave,’ I say tiredly, more laughter following my words, and Jimin nods, bidding goodbye to his friends with a smug grin as he leads me out of the room.

‘Shall we sit outside?’ he suggests, and I nod, letting him pull me through the front door. I shut the door behind us, and when I turn back, Jimin’s sat on the front step, looking out onto the front garden. It’s surprisingly empty, and it’s quiet out here, the only noise coming faintly from inside. I sit down beside him, pulling my dress down, and Jimin notices, a greasy smirk appearing on his face. ‘I swear to God, Park, I will not hesitate to throw this drink at you,’ I say, and he laughs, eyes disappearing behind their lids. ‘I was just gonna say that you look really nice. That dress really suits you,’ he grins, and I eye him suspiciously, holding back a laugh. He holds his hands up, feigning innocence, and I let out a gentle laugh, taking a sip of my drink. ‘Did you wear it for me?’ he asks, and I nod without looking at him. ‘Good choice. I like it,’ he replies, reaching for my hand, and I can’t help the small smile on my face as he laces his fingers with mine, our hands resting in my lap.

We both fall into a comfortable silence, and it’s really nice. It’s like all the other stuff falls away and doesn’t matter anymore, and we’re just a girl and a boy sat on the front steps of a frat house, taking a moment away from the party under the night sky, holding hands and drinking whisky and soda. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I think that this is what true peace is like; when things are quiet and simple and easy, and nothing’s bothering me, nothing’s complicated or confusing, nothing matters. It’s almost too good to be true.

The door behind us opens after a few minutes, both of us turning to see Jeongin and Changbin, two more boys on the team, and Jimin grins widely when he sees them. I turn to face the front garden again, my back to the boys with my hand still in Jimin’s, both resting in my lap. ‘Boys! How are you? Ready for first practice next week?’ Jimin asks them, and I roll my eyes amusedly – football is their livelihood, and Jimin’s in his element talking about football, even more now that he’s been promoted to Captain. ‘Looking forward to it, Captain!’ Jeongin exclaims, hyping Jimin up even more. ‘Before we get distracted with football, we thought we’d let you know that, um, Rosie’s been looking for you. She asked us where you were and we said we didn’t know so we could buy you some time, but she’ll probably find you soon,’ Changbin says, and I freeze at the mention of his ex, Jimin wincing. ‘Um, okay, thanks, guys. I’ll, uh, speak to you later,’ he says, dismissing them, and they quickly disappear with a ‘bye’ thrown over their shoulders before the door shuts.

‘Why is Rosie looking for you?’ I ask amusedly, knowing exactly why she’s looking for him. She and Jimin have been in an on-again-off-again relationship for a long time, but he ended it for good at the end of last year, and stayed true to his word. According to the rumours, they don’t even talk anymore, just walk past each other without a word, and they haven’t slept with each other again. But she’s obviously got wind about me, and is jealous. ‘Um, yeah, about that. There’s probably something I should tell you,’ he says hesitantly, and I feel my body go a little cold as I turn my eyes to him – maybe there is a different reason she’s looking for him. ‘I… may have… slept with her… on Tuesday,’ he says, and the words don’t really register with me for a moment. ‘y/n?’ he says, eyes full of worry and I blink, realisation washing over me.

He slept with her. Four days ago.

I remove his hand from mine, and he flinches when I do so, retracting his hand slowly. ‘What… were you thinking?’ I ask, and he just blinks for a moment. ‘I was thinking that you hated me because you left and I was hurt so I found comfort in someone else,’ he says, tone neutral, but I can hear the defensiveness coming through. And, okay, maybe that is a good enough reason. But I’m still angry. Do I even have a right to be angry? ‘But your ex? Jimin, I-’ ‘Yes, y/n, my ex. I don’t really think you have a right to be angry. You left me. You knew my feelings for you were different to what you first thought, and you left anyway!’ he exclaims, voice rising, and I roll my eyes, letting out a humourless laugh. ‘I wasn’t obligated to stay just because you liked me!’ ‘But you liked me too!’ ‘I’m not sure I did, Jimin, and I’m still not sure about it! Besides, you literally said like fifteen minutes ago that you understood why I left and that I didn’t need to apologise for it!’ I point out, and he scoffs. ‘I do understand, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, y/n. I was hurting and she was at the ASP house picking up her hair clip that she lost at the party and one thing led to ano-’ ‘So she just happened to be at the house, picking up a hair clip, three days after what happened between you and me? You don’t think she planned that?’ I say incredulously, unable to believe how dense he is. ‘So what if she did? To me, it was meaningless sex, to get my mind off you. I don’t think you have a right to be angry.’ ‘I don’t think I do either, but I still am!’ I exclaim, and he rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. ‘You’re not angry, you’re jealous.’ ‘I’m not jealous, Jimin, don’t be ridiculous,’ I scoff, even more pissed off now. ‘You are.’ ‘If I said, ‘let’s go upstairs and fuck’ right now, you would be down, so what have I got to be jealous about?’ I ask lowly, and his eyes darken. ‘Fine. You’re not jealous. You’re angry I slept with someone else because you like me. Don’t even bother saying you’re still not sure because that’s the only reason for you to be angry. And in that case, I understand. And I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,’ he says calmly, and I don’t say anything, looking away from him.

After a few moments, he reaches for my hand tentatively, gauging my reaction before lacing our fingers together again. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I’m just being silly,’ I say, and he chuckles, moving closer to me. ‘I’ll apologise as many times as you need me to. I really do like you, y/n, and I kinda have for a while. I don’t want to fuck up whatever this is happening between us. And I know you’re still reluctant and you still want to hate me or whatever, but I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready. I’m happy to take time to win you over,’ he says softly, and my heart warms a little. The contrast between this Jimin and the Jimin from last week really is insane. There are so many sides to him, it’s hard to keep track. ‘Sorry,’ I say, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘You don’t have to apologise for getting angry that I slept with my ex, even if we didn’t make any commitments to each other. I understand,’ he says simply, and I can’t help the smile on my face as I shuffle even closer to him, our sides pressed together and my head resting on his shoulder.

And again, it’s nice. But it really is too good to be true. The door behind us is wrenched open before we hear, ‘Jimin?’ I sigh, Jimin turning to look at Rosie. ‘Rosie,’ he replies, voice neutral, and I turn around, our eyes meeting. ‘Hi, Rosie,’ I smile at the girl. I’ve never actually had a problem with Rosie – we run in the same social circles, she’s a Cheerleader, and we’ve never been close but from what I know of her, she’s okay. ‘Hi, y/n. Do you mind if I speak to Jimin for a moment?’ she says sweetly. ‘Of course,’ I reply with a smile, not moving a muscle, and Jimin sighs. ‘y/n, please,’ he says, and I turn to him, annoyance unfurling in my chest. ‘Okay,’ I say coldly, dropping his hand from mine and rising up, brushing past Rosie into the house.

What is wrong with him? Has he got no common sense? The logical thing to have done is obviously to not speak to her – what could she possibly have to say? All she’s going to do is try to get him back. And he’s really stupid enough to ask me to leave? Am I a dickhead? I let out an angry sigh, deciding that I’ve had enough. He’s been spouting all this shit about how he doesn’t want to fuck this up, and then literally like two fucking minutes later, he’s having a private conversation with his ex. This is like ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ but in real life. He’s Peter, Rosie’s Gen and I’m Lara Jean. Somehow though, I feel like I won’t have the same happy ending.

‘y/n!’ I hear Jennie call from the other living room, where she’s sat with Jihyo and Irene, and I sigh, heading in. ‘What’s happened?’ she asks, and I roll my eyes, the attention of everyone in the room on me. ‘He apologised and we made up but then he asked me to leave so he could have a private conversation with his ex,’ I say, and they all gasp, confirming that I’m not a crazy bitch and that he shouldn’t be having private conversations with his ex. ‘Oh, girl, you better not forgive his stupid ass,’ Jihyo says, the other girls in the room nodding and giving various agreements, and the boys are all quiet – they obviously feel a sense of loyalty to Jimin and don’t want to talk bad about him. ‘I feel so pissed, but I also feel like I don’t have a right to be pissed,’ I say, and the girls all frown, disagreeing instantly. ‘You do have a right to be pissed. You should go throw your drink over his stupid head,’ Jennie says angrily, and I hold back a laugh.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I sigh helplessly, perching on the arm of Seungmin’s armchair. ‘It’s a red flag, y/n. End things here – don’t let it go too far otherwise you’ll get too attached, your feelings will get deeper and stronger, and it’s just not worth it. Him and Rosie are always messing around and it’ll probably be like that for a long time – she’s a nice girl but she’s got Jimin wrapped around her finger and she knows it. If he tries to move on, she’ll stop it. It’s not worth you getting involved in that, because you shouldn’t have to compete with his ex,’ Irene says softly, everybody listening to her, and I know she’s exactly right; I might… maybe… kinda… sorta… like(?) Jimin now, but he’s not worth competing with another girl for. If there’s even a choice for him, I should walk away. I deserve someone who wants me and only me. ‘God, you’re right,’ I wail, throwing myself back against the armchair and lifting my hand to my face despairingly, a little laugh running around the room at my dramatics as Seungmin pats my arm comfortingly. ‘I know he’s our friend, y/n, but he’s also kinda a dick when it comes to girls, and we all know it. I mean, he was literally bragging to us yesterday about what happened between you guys,’ Minho says, and I feel my focus shifting entirely to his words when he says that, my entire body tensing. ‘What did he say?’ I ask calmly, though I can feel my anger slowly rising, along with the tension in the room. ‘Well… um,’ Minho begins hesitantly, before sighing, ‘we all went to ASP last night for KPN and ASP Pizza Friday, and we were speaking about going to watch you guys at the try-outs. JB mentioned that, as the new captain, you might get pissed if we showed up, and then the conversation turned to you and Jimin last week.’

I’m in total shock; he blatantly lied to me earlier, by telling me that he’d only told his closest friends. The thought that all those boys were sat together last night, talking about me, makes my stomach turn. ‘What did he tell you guys?’ I ask shakily, despite not actually wanting to know. ‘Um… everything,’ Minho says, and my heart drops. ‘Everything?’ ‘Yeah. Everything,’ Chan confirms, voice gentle, and I can feel tears pricking my eyes. ‘Wow. Okay. So not only is he a dick, he blatantly lied,’ I say flatly, the room completely silent other than the low RnB beat pulsing from the speaker. ‘I’m gonna go. Sorry for, uh, killing the vibe,’ I say quietly, pushing myself up from the arm of Seungmin’s armchair and heading towards the door, multiple people in the room calling after me.

I quickly dart up the stairs, dodging past the couple making out on the landing and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Part of me is numb, in complete shock, and doesn’t know how to react. Another part of me is unbelievably hurt that he completely lied to my face, and that he asked me to leave so he could talk to his ex. Privately. Another part of me is totally humiliated that he told the boys everything, my pride completely ruined now. And the other part of me is annoyed at myself for being so hurt about a boy who, this time last week, I hated and would’ve rather fought than fucked.

‘y/n, it’s me,’ I hear Jennie’s voice from the other side of the door, and I unlock it to let her in. She pulls me into a hug, and I have to scrunch my eyes shut to stop myself from crying, pushing my head into her neck as she rubs my back comfortingly. ‘He’s so trash, babe. So trash. You deserve so much better,’ she says soothingly, and I try my best to fully believe her words, but it’s hard when I’m also trying to hold back my tears.

Before I can even speak to her, Jiwon’s head appears around the door, her eyes widening when she sees how upset I am. ‘y/n! Sorry for just walking in but are you okay?’ she asks, eyes big with concern, and my heart warms. ‘Ugh, yeah,’ I say, Jennie and I moving apart, and I tilt my head back, blinking furiously to get rid of my tears. ‘It’s just Jimin. He’s such a dick. I’m done with him,’ I say, the words coming out of my mouth before I even think of them, and I realise that, yes, I am done with him. I’m not wasting my time on him anymore.

‘Good. You deserve better. I mean, I knew he was a dick when he literally grabbed me on the way up to his room last week and dragged me along behind him. He made me think he was attracted to me, but he obviously just wanted to make you jealous,’ Jiwon says, and it makes me hate him even more. I didn’t even think about how hurt she must have been when she realised he was just using her. ‘God, he really is a dick,’ I spit, face twisted up in disgust, and Jiwon lets out a gentle laugh. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t see that sooner.’ ‘I knew all along. There was a reason I hated him so much – he’s always been a self-absorbed, egotistic, arrogant douche, but now… he’s even worse in my eyes.’

‘Shall we head back downstairs, get you a drink, dance? Or… shall we head home? We could have a little girls’ night – we’ve got a couple bottles of Echo Falls in the fridge, Clueless and Mean Girls on Netflix, and I have a few face masks. We could invite some of the other girls, too. And you could join us, Jiwon. We could get drunk, order pizza and talk about how much of a bastard Jimin is,’ Jennie says, the three of us laughing. She’s really sold the idea – it sounds like a lot of fun – but it’s late already. It’s better if I just head home and go to sleep. I actually feel exhausted after the events of today; it’s been an emotional rollercoaster, and I’m literally craving my bed right now. ‘That sounds fun, Jen, but maybe we could do that another night. I could do with just sleeping tonight,’ I say, and she nods, smiling gently.

‘Shall I order an Uber?’ ‘You stay,’ I say, and she frowns. ‘Why would I stay? You’re upset – I’ll come back with you.’ ‘No, honestly, I’ll be fine. You stay, enjoy the party. You haven’t even spent any time with Namjoon,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t care about spending time with Namjoon right now. You’re my priority. I’m coming home with you,’ she says firmly, pulling her phone out of her pocket, and I exchange an exasperated glance with Jiwon, the other girl incredibly amused.

As soon as Jennie’s ordered the Uber, we head downstairs to bid everyone goodbye. The second I step into the kitchen, Jin and Jungkook appear in front of me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Don’t say a word, because I swear to God, I won’t hesitate to kick you both in the balls,’ I threaten angrily, and their grins soon disappear. ‘Have you been crying, y/n? What’s the ma-?’ ‘Don’t say a word!’ I exclaim, pushing past them to say goodbye to Wendy, Lisa, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, the three of them giving me tight and comforting hugs – it seems that word’s already gotten around to the girls about Jimin and I. Then, in the living room, Nayeon, Seulgi, Mina, Jeongyeon, Jisoo, Momo, Joy and Sana all stop dancing the second I walk in, smothering me in hugs, and I know for sure that word has gotten around. And then, in the other living room, Jihyo, Irene, Yeri and Dahyun all give me big hugs too, and it really does make me feel better. Girls say it a lot, but it’s true – as long as you have your girls around you, you really don’t need a man. Any KNP or ASP boys that I walk past get the cold shoulder – they were all present when Jimin told them the dirty details and, despite some of them being my friends, close friends, not one of them thought to tell me. The only person that gets a goodbye from me is Minho; the rest of them can fuck themselves.

When I reach the front door, my hand shakes for a moment and I hesitate, Jennie putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I take a deep breath, rolling back my shoulders and raising my chin a little, injecting as much confidence into my body language as possible before I aggressively turn the handle, pulling the door towards me forcefully. They’re still sat on the front doorstep, Rosie where I was sat just half an hour ago, and they both jump when they hear the door open. And even though they react instantly, I still spot Jimin’s hand retracting from Rosie’s, leaving hers empty.

My eyes flit back up, in front of me, and I carefully walk through the gap between them, ignoring them both completely. ‘y/n? Are you leaving?’ I hear Jimin ask, but Jennie puts a hand on my back, the both of us continuing to walk up towards the road and away from him. ‘y/n! Wait!’ he calls after me, and then I hear his footsteps behind us, making my blood boil – can he not take the hint? ‘What, Jimin?’ I demand, whirling around to face him, and he hesitates in his steps. ‘y/n-’ ‘No, Jimin, don’t ‘y/n’ me. What the fuck do you want?’ ‘I… you’re angry at me,’ he says quietly, and I let out a harsh laugh. ‘Great observation, Jimin! What else will you come out with? The grass is green? Or the sky is blue, perhaps?’ ‘Okay, you don’t need to be so bitchy to m-’ ‘Bitchy?’ I practically scream, marching towards him, and he recoils away from me. Good. I’m glad he’s scared.

‘I think I’m well within my rights to be bitchy to you, you fucking bastard!’ I shriek, and he flinches, confusion all over his face. ‘What did I do, y/n? I… let me fix it,’ he says, and I let out another humourless laugh. ‘Fix it? You want to fix it?’ I ask hysterically, voice shaking, ‘You might’ve been able to fix the fact that you asked me to leave so you could have a private conversation with your ex, but that’s a very strong ‘might’, because I am not a choice, Jimin! You don’t get to mess me around! I’m number one, or I’m nothing to you at all!’ ‘Okay. Okay, I understand, and I’m sorry. I won’t do something like that again,’ he says earnestly, desperation in his eyes, but I can’t muster up any sympathy at all. Maybe I am a bitch, like he told me so many times last week.

‘No, you’re not going to do something like that again. Because you’re not going to have the chance, Jimin. We are done. That’s it,’ I say, and any hope that was in his eyes completely disappears, the light draining away. ‘What? Why? I thought you wanted… to give us a go,’ he says quietly, sounding… lost, and confused. It only makes me angrier – he’s not gonna get away with playing innocent today. ‘I did. Before I found out that you went and blabbed every single detail of last week to every fucking frat boy in ASP and KPN last night! Did you somehow forget about that, or did you purposely leave out that detail when I asked you earlier?’ I scream, body shaking with fury, and the second he registers my words, the colour disappears from his face, and he looks like he might throw up. He doesn’t say anything, and I give him the chance, but he doesn’t even bother to deny it, just stares at me in shock and the last shred of my hope that maybe Minho lied, that he exaggerated, or that maybe Jimin only told a couple of the guys disappears. ‘Yeah. That’s what I thought too. So forgive me for being such a bitch,’ I spit at him, and he opens his mouth to speak, no words coming out.

‘Go on. Say something. You’ve had plenty to say all night. So let’s hear it,’ I prompt sarcastically, and he just blinks before he whispers miserably; ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘Sorry? You’re sorry? Oh, well, that’s okay! Everything’s solved now, huh? That just makes everything fine!’ I shout, and his head drops, eyes on the ground. ‘Not only did you tell everyone, you lied about it! So how can I pursue something with you when you’re already lying to me? I can’t trust a word you say!’ ‘I… I’m not defending myself… but you lied to me too, y/n. You told me that you told Jennie, and ‘a couple of the other girls’. But we both know that was a lie,’ he says slowly, stuttering as he speaks, and I’m dumbfounded, in complete and utter shock.

‘You… you don’t understand. I told the girls, my closest friends. We tell each other everything. I’ve been there for them through everything, and they’ve been there for me through everything. You told two entire fraternities of immature and idiotic man children! You don’t think there’s a difference between the two? I bet they congratulated you, right? On getting the girl that hates you into bed? Asked what I was like? What my body looks like? Whether I had good head game, or good pussy? Saw me as just a slut, another conquest, another notch in your belt? Two entire fraternities objectified me last night, and you can’t even try to tell me otherwise, because I can guarantee that every girl in this damn university has had an experience to prove that you frat boys are disgusting. So you can fuck yourself, Jimin, and don’t ever compare me telling the girls to you telling those idiots again,’ I spit out angrily, and he’s completely silent, confirming everything I’ve just said. ‘I’m done with you. Don’t ever speak to me again,’ I hiss before turning on my heel and marching to where Jen stands outside the Uber, smiling at me softly.

‘That was amazing. I’m so proud of you,’ she says when I reach her, and I smile back as she opens the car door, letting me climb in first. I slide across the seat, Jennie following me in, and when she shuts the door behind her, I feel my heart pulse with hurt, eyes filling with tears. And as the driver pulls away from the house and I turn to look out of the rear window, being met with the sight of Jimin stood there, watching the car drive away, his eyes shining with tears, I can’t hold back my own, sobbing as if my heart would break.

[thejolexgroupchat]

the one where they met in med school - part sixteen

hospital mergers and new friends

Hi everyone! Hope you are having a wonderful holiday season. We are so excited for you to read this next part. Let us know what you think in the comments. Happy reading!!

@iamtrebleclefstories​ @doc-pickles​ and Nat!

———

(July 2008) 

"Today's the day," Jo announced as she walked into Meredith's hospital room, a bowl of soup in hand. She placed the steaming bowl on the bedside tray in front of Meredith. "I saw a whole bunch of people in orange scrubs swarm into the lobby when we walked in. I didn't feel like socializing with them so early, so I changed quickly and I decided to come see you."

"I know. I saw them all walk past my room. I can't believe I'm stuck in this bed while the Mercy-Westers try to steal our jobs," Meredith groaned. "I just had to go and donate part of my liver to my father so that my sister wouldn't lose another parent."

"And Lexie loves you all the more for it," Jo grinned. "Look, if it's any consolation, I made everyone promise we'd come in to update you on how things are going."

“Thank you,” Meredith clutched Jo’s hands gratefully. “Wait, isn’t today your first day as a resident? Why aren’t you in the lounge?”

“Because Webber is assigning each of us a resident from Mercy West that will shadow us today to get familiar with and I really do not want to be shadowed by the enemy today,” Jo huffed in annoyance. “I’m already frustrated because Izzie interrupted Alex and I this morning because she wanted to borrow one of my long sleeves. So, I never got laid.”

Meredith laughed, “I hope that Derek and I are still as crazy about each other as you two are after four and a half years together.”

“You know, before Alex, I never knew it could be that good,” Jo thought back to the early days of their relationship. “I swear I had more sex that first week of our relationship than I’d had in my entire life, up until that point. I’ve had great sex before and it’s not like I didn’t love sex before, but I swear, Meredith, Alex awoke something in me that I didn’t know existed. It was just… different with him. And it still is. Every single time I feel like I might burst at the seams.”

“Wow, Wilson. Alex is that good in bed?” Meredith chuckled as she teased her friend a bit. 

“Even better,” Jo hummed, joining in on Meredith’s joke. “You really have no idea. He is… talented.”

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there because I definitely do not want to hear what Alex is like in bed," Meredith shuddered. "You need to go to the resident's lounge and find your Mercy-Wester. Don't want to be late."

"Ugh, fine," Jo frowned and stood up from where she had perched herself on Meredith's bed. "I'll be back later with updates." 

***

“Hey,” Jo met up with Alex in the hallway and smiled. “I thought you were in the lounge.”

“No, I dropped off my stuff while Webber was giving them the tour and his speech so that I didn’t have to associate with them,” Alex said as he smoothed down his scrub top. “I left my pager in my cubby though, so I had to come back.”

“Well, you know you’re getting assigned a resident from Mercy West right?” Jo reminded him. 

“Dammit,” Alex frowned. “I forgot about that.”

As they approached the lounge, they heard some commotion coming from inside.

“I said take it out.”

“Great. I got the crazy one next to me.”

“Oh, you want to fight? Cause I will.” 

Alex and Jo walked into the lounge and watched Izzie stand up in front of a woman in orange scrubs. The pair raised their eyebrows and called out to her, “Izzie! Iz.”

“I will fight you. You’re pretty tiny,” Izzie’s tall frame loomed over the pixie-haired woman’s. “I could take you down in just a couple of seconds.”

Alex reached out to grab Izzie’s arms, pulling her back from the other resident, “Come on. Come on.”

“Stop!” Izzie protested.

“Come on,” Alex continued to pull her back away from the group and pushed her out the door, Jo grabbing his pager and following them out the door.

“They took George’s cubby,” Izzie finally explained as she, Cristina, Lexie, Alex, and Jo stood over the balcony, watching as the orange scrubs moved around the hospital. 

Jo put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Okay, I say we go hang out in Mer’s room.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cristina turned and led the way back to their friend’s hospital room.

“They’re locusts,” Meredith said as they finally arrived and updated her about this morning’s occurrences. “Comfortable locusts, feeding on our surgeries.”

“It’s rude,” Izzie popped a grape into her mouth. “There should at least be a couple days where they act like guests before they put their feet up on the coffee table.”

“And what’s with orange scrubs?” Lexie peeked through the window into the hallway. “What, ours aren’t good enough for ‘em?”

“We ran out. They’re on back order,” Jo informed. “Randall from the supply company says they’ll be here in a week.”

“Why bother ordering new ones when we can just give these to our replacements?” Cristina deadpanned. 

“We’re not gonna be replaced by anybody,” Alex shook his head. 

“They’re here. It’s over,” Cristina sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. 

“Hey. We are not some stupid hosts. They can’t invade us,” Meredith shook her head. “They can’t attach themselves to our faces and then while we’re eating spaghetti, explode out of our chests and skitter across the floor. This is our ship. This is our ship.”

Lexie wrinkled her brow, “Excuse me. Are you—are you quoting a Sigourney Weaver movie?”

“Shut up,” Meredith shrugged.

Izzie chuckled, “That’s what happens when you live here. You watch a lot of TV.”

“We own this hospital,” Meredith looked around the room at her friends. “We were born in this hospital. And we will hold this hospital with our last gasping breath. Go out there and go get surgeries before they take them. Go! And I want a full report by the end of the day.”

“Fine.” The doctors sighed and shuffled out of room, leaving only Cristina behind to sulk with Meredith. 

***

“Okay, where do you want us?” Jo asked as she, Alex, and Lexie walked into the ER. 

“Uh, at this point, anywhere is good,” Hunt looked around the crowded emergency room. 

“At Mercy West we do zones. When it’s super busy, we just give everyone a zone, a space. The nurses put a person in that space, you know it’s your patient. Helps you get to them quicker,” the male in orange scrubs suggested, putting his stethoscope around his neck as the two women behind him nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, well, this is the ER not a school yard. We’re not playing four square,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“I like it,” Hunt announced. “It’s a good idea. Let’s try it. What’s your name?”

“Jackson Avery.”

Owen shook Jackson’s hand, “Dr. Avery, I’m Dr. Hunt. It’s all yours. Zone away.”

Lexie, Jo, and Alex all exchanged a look. Jo let out a groan, “Ugh. That’s the one. That’s the resident that’s supposed to shadow me.”

“That guy?” Alex pointed and made a face. “I can already tell he’s a jerk.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess,” Lexie mumbled, causing Jo to snicker. “I know we’re supposed to hate them, but is it wrong of me to say that he’s kind of hot? Like really hot?”

“Um, yes,” Jo looked at her friend strangely. “Besides, aren’t you with Sloan?”

“Hey! I can look,” Lexie waved her hands slightly. “I just won’t touch.”

“Let’s go,” Alex motioned for the girls to follow him. 

***

“You were right. I hate him,” Jo slammed her tray down on the table as they reconvened for lunch in the cafeteria. “But not because he’s a jerk. Because he’s really freaking nice!”

“This blows,” Alex placed his tray next to hers and sat down. 

“Getting your ass kicked?” Cristina asked. 

“Shut up,” Alex responded, his mouth full of food. He looked over to Jo. “I heard yours got a standing ovation in the ER.”

“Yours is the one who saved the whole ER from the maniac with the hammer?” Lexie looked up from the little book she was reading. 

“Okay, he didn’t save anyone,” Jo shook her head in annoyance. “He did some stupid ninja leap and then tripped a guy. I used actual medicine to stop a person from dying.”

“At least he’s pretty to look at,” Cristina shrugged. “I’m too depressed to practice medicine today.”

“Well, mine has a notebook, a notebook that she takes notes in. Notes of a very personal nature, and I stole it,” Lexie held up the tiny pink book for them to see.

“You what?” Cristina’s eyes widened. 

“Give it,” Alex stuck his hand out.

“No. No, I—I’m not sinking down to their level,” Lexie put the book in her lab coat pocket. “They are vindictive and they are aggressive and—and they are not team players. And if we are not careful, that spirit is going to infect our hospital. We have to fight it.”

Cristina nodded, “Which is why you stole the notebook?”

“And read it?” Alex added. 

“And now you’re hiding it from us?” Jo looked at her friend, amused.

“Well, she’s not a very nice person.”

“Hey,” Izzie walked up to the table, two coffees in hand. 

“Ooh! Can I have that?” Alex reached out to grab the coffee. 

“No. This isn’t for you,” Izzie slapped his hand away. 

“Who’s it for then?” Jo asked. 

“Charles.”

“Your Mercy-Wester?” Cristina exclaimed. 

“They’re handing us out asses on a plate, and you’re serving him coffee?” Alex made a face. 

“Charles is actually kind of awesome,” Izzie shrugged. “If you all could get past your sad, little egos, you would realize you can’t write off all the Mercy West residents just because you feel threatened.”

“We don’t feel threatened,” Jo called out as Izzie turned and walked away. She looked back at the table. “Okay, maybe a little threatened.”

***

At the end of the day, Jo was exhausted. She’d spent the entirety of her first official day as a resident getting her ass handed to her by pretty-boy Avery. All she wanted was to change out of her scrubs and get back to the house and maybe finally get laid. 

She had pulled her scrub top off when she heard some noise behind her. Glancing back, she saw Avery and a few of the other Mercy-Westers walk in to leave for the night. Ignoring them, Jo continued to change out of her scrubs and into her street clothes.

“Hey, Wilson.”

Jo turned at the sound of her name, her shirt only halfway on and huffed, “What?”

Avery gave her a quick once over and cracked a charming smile, “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot today. I think it’s safe to say that I overstepped and should’ve backed off a bit. What do you say we start over?”

“Ya think?” Jo finished smoothing down her shirt and crossed her arms. “Okay. I guess we can start over.”

“Great,” he extended his hand out to her. “Hi, Dr. Wilson, my name is Jackson.”

Despite herself, Jo cracked a small smile and shook his hand in return, “Hi, Jackson. Call me Jo.”

[commander-isekai]

Commander Isekai - commander from an another world

A/N:

Hi all! This my tongue-in-cheek fic about a commander, who’s actually a human player from the real world, and who now lives through the game, but armed with previous knowledge about it. They aren’t happy just to follow along a story, so things will get different quickly enough. Hence their name is commander Kai, as a pun from the isekai genre. I’ve been inspired by similar fics done about other games, and I thought gw2 could be a fun one too.

Chapter One:

The Second Awakening or how I found myself in a video game world

Sometimes, all you can remember is falling. It was the only sensation I could comprehend. The world around me was a blurry, like a messy watercolor painting. If there were any noises, I couldn't hear them. I just fell.

A painfully bright light drilled into my eyes.

I woke up with a great thump, as I landed into a large pile of dry leaves. They managed to soften my landing to a degree, but I was aching from all over, like if I had rolled downhill like a cheese in a cheese-wheeling competition, determined to win the first place no matter how crumbly my state would be at the finish line.

"This fucking sucks.." I groaned, tossing my arm out and trying to find my glasses, or my phone, but only grasped more leaves. I hoped I hadn’t broken either one during my fall.

"Are you alright, Valiant?" I heard a concerned voice ask, "the awakening can be sometimes rough, but you'll find your bearings soon enough."

Oh no, had I fallen asleep outside? I had a bad habit of dozing off, but the embarrassment of sleeping outside and this kind person having to wake me up made me wish I could knock myself out permanently rather than face them.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sorry about this, just give me a minute..." I tried to form coherent sentences while pushing my hair away, but my hand gathered only more leaves? and no hair??

I pulled my hand in front of my face and yelped in surprise when I saw that it was bright lavender, a color that my regular human hands should not be, and that I was grasping purple and pink ferns instead of my regular colored human hair.

"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I looked at myself and the person helping me, and only then I realized they weren't human either, but a pea-green person who seemed to be made out of plant material and flowers. Behind them, I could see a shimmering lake and a small village, with more denizens similar to them and me.

As I gasped upon the scene, the two braincells inside my skull finally hit a nerve and made the connection that I had been missing:

A) Somehow, I was in Caledon Forest. Like, the starting zone in Guild Wars 2, an MMO I used to play lot back in the day until I got too busy with my life and other video games.

B) Also somehow, I wasn't a human anymore. I was a walking, talking, internally-panicking sylvari.

C) Last but not least, I could see everything clearly without glasses. This fact stressed me out the most. Had my vision somehow been fixed when I fell? I did like my old glasses, and really hoped they were in one piece somewhere.

"Are you feeling enough well to stand?" the sylvari that must be a mender asked me, offering a hand that I gladly took as I wobbled onto my feet like a newborn calf.

“I think I am?” I answered hesitantly, not certain if I’d stay upright after she’d let go of me.

" I am mender Lorean. What's your name?" the sylvari asked me.

" Um, Kai" I said, as the first name in my mind was the name of my commander character, "short of Cainneach, but just Kai is fine."

It didn't feel right to introduce myself with my given human name, as it was definitely not a sylvari name, and that would have revealed me being something else than your regular baby sprout. I really wasn't married to that name anyway, so Kai came out naturally. I had already used Kai as a all-around nickname, so I settled into it like putting on a new, yet surprisingly comfortable shirt.

"Alright, Valiant Kai", seeing as I could hold on my own against the gravity, Lorean let go of my hand, and explained: "Now, it can take some time to get used to the world outside the Dream. You shouldn't wander off too far from the Grove, at least not until you're experienced enough. You should find anything you need inside the city, and the mentors will help you along. Caithe also asked me to tell you that she wants to speak with you, when you are ready."

The mender that helped me did not seem to comment on my errantic behaviour - they must have seen a wild variety of saplings in their time.

"Wait, why do you keep calling me a valiant?" I asked, trying to wrap my head around what I could remember about Caithe. The total sum was not much - an assassin with a troubled past: a guild of heroes that basically cut ties after a failed dragon killing quest and ex-girlfriend who's in the lead of the bad Nightmare sylvari. That'd be a lot for anyone.

"Caithe told me, about how you joined forces with her to defeat the a large nightmare beast in the Dream. That must be a sign of a great Wyld Hunt", Lorean explained, and asked curiously: "don't you remember the Dream?"

Oh right. The Dream, or the tutorial part with the big dragon monster. I somehow completely skipped that in this new, 4D-supported version of Tyria. At least I did not remember experiencing anything resembling fighting a giant dragon to death, not after waking up here. I had an inkling that telling so would only raise more questions, and I had plenty of those myself.

  "Oh yes, it's all coming back to me", I lied with a practiced straight face, "I must have just hit my head hard when I awoke, that's all.  I'll be on my way now, thanks!" 

I waved and nearly dashed to an exit before Lorean could respond. They were being just nice, sure, but I needed a moment for myself with no one else right now, or I would explode on the spot.

'''

Not far from the village, but enough far that no one would hopefully bother me, I made my way to the large pond, to really take in all the changes.

"Oh no, the fireflies are actually that big", I grimaced when I saw a group of the flying creatures gather around one of the light-giving plants, "That's going to take some time getting used to."

I sat down next to the water's edge, and I could finally take a look at my new features. They were nothing like what I'd been used to - instead of soft skin, my face was hard, bark-like texture. My hair was like plant's leaf, yet sturdier - it hurt when I tried to pull it. My form was different too, almost like I had had a second puberty without knowing it - my limbs were taller than what I had been used to, and I felt my presentation was more masculine than what it had been when I was human.

The more I sat and contemplated my situation, everything around me seemed to make no sense. I was stuck in an unfamiliar body, in the role of the main character of a video game, and while I did not remember every detail of what happened in the story, I knew it wouldn't take long for things to get hairy. Why I was here? Why did I look like this?  No matter how I tried to rationalize it, I had no answers, and I was only left with piling up frustration, and tears began to form in the corners of my eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” A new voice dragged me out of my depths. It belonged to a blue sylvari with a mushroom-capped head, and whose leaf-like outfit seemed to grow naturally as a part of their body.

“I don’t know, it’s just - a lot of stuff to process. The whole awakening, and everything”, I told them as honestly as I could.

“You seemed to be a little more lost than the other sprouts - and I do not mean that in a judgmental way”, the sylvari said and hold out something: “here, take this, it will help.”

“Oh, thank you”, I accepted the carved bowl that seemed to be made out of a giant nut, and the gentle smell of pumpkin soup overwhelmed me. Gods, I realized only now how starved I felt, like I had not eaten properly for days.

“I don’t have any money, or gold-” I tried to say, but the other sylvari cut in quickly:

“Do not worry about it! I hope you have a pleasant evening!” 

The sylvari took off, and I was too mesmerized by their kindness towards a random stranger like me that it did not even occur to me to ask their name. The soup, still warm in my hands was a temptation too great to resist, and I wasted no time devouring it.

Maybe this world isn’t too bad after all, if people are gifting food freely to others like that, I thought to myself, earlier anguish almost completely forgotten.

[arckook]

around and around - seven

pairing: cho seungyoun x reader, kim wooseok x reader

au: idolverse

warnings: more swearing than ususal 

wordcount: 7.5k

description: you’ve had a one-sided crush on your close friend seungyoun for who knows how long, but things don’t stay so black and white when he introduces you to his new groupmate kim wooseok.

a/n: please listen to falling by harry styles and different by woodz for maximum emotion 

“But doesn’t Y/N seem like the kind of person to have their future wedding all planned out?” Jimin asks, smiling over at the younger girl adoringly. “I feel like she knows exactly what she wants.”

“I wish,” you groan, pushing your hair off of your forehead. It’s sticky with sweat- the three of you are sitting outside, and it’s summer. “I only know a few things.”

“Tell us,” Seungyoun says, thinking to himself that he should have offered you a sip of his drink. You’ve already turned to Jimin and nicked some of hers.

You hum, setting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your lips pull into a pout, and you stare up at the umbrella above you, seemingly in thought. “My mom always told me never to date a musician, so I’ll probably follow that. She said they always end up breaking your heart.”

“Ouch,” Jimin laughs. “So never date one of your friends.”

“I know, right?” you reply with a lighthearted giggle. “And… I think my dad would like someone clean-cut. No tattoos and stuff like that. He’s kinda conservative in that way. Oh, and there’s one thing for sure.”

“Let me guess,” Jimin leans back, pointing knowingly. “Rich.”

You laugh.

Seungyoun always thinks you’re prettiest when you’re laughing.

“Nah, not rich,” you wave your hand, still grinning. “But like… kinda has their shit together, you know? I mean, to a degree, but. You know what I mean.”

“I do, I do,” Jimin nods. She looks to Seungyoun, lifting her chin. “So, Youn, you know anyone like that? This girl has not had a boyfriend since like fifth grade.”

You smack Jimin lightly on the arm. “Stop bullying me.”

“I am not!”

Seungyoun lets a smile pass with his lips pressed tightly together, fingers tapping quickly on the table. “None come to mind.”

-

“Ah,”

Seungyoun winces as soon as the bright light hits his eyes, rolling over and pressing his face into the pillow. “Stop,” he whines, muffled.

But nobody answers.

For a moment, he’d forgotten that he’s alone.

Seungyoun shifts, one eye opening to peek at where the light is coming from. He’s squinting and can’t see clearly, but he thinks it’s probably the curtain in front of his bed, slightly pushed to the side. And now it’s late enough that the sun has moved to glare straight through that small piece of the window.

Once the one eye has gotten used to the light, he sits up, rubbing both with his fingers. He winces- the headache that’s already blooming getting worse with the sun striking his face. Seungyoun feels around blindly for his phone on the nightstand, eventually finding it.

One in the afternoon.

A fuck ton of missed calls.

He sighs deeply, setting his phone in his lap and putting his head in his hands. He starts to groan, but that hurts, too.

Eventually he’ll have to get up and find some advil, but for now, that’s a lot to think about.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Seungyoun really groans this time, picking up his phone again to see who could possibly be calling this early in the-

Not morning.

Right.

And of course, it’s the only person who calls him often nowadays.

“Hello?” Seungyoun grumbles quietly into the phone, cringing at the volume of his own voice.

“Yah!” Sahee shouts, loud enough that he has to pull the phone away. 

“Wait, please be quieter,” Seungyoun interrupts, pressing his other hand to his forehead. “Hangover.”

“Do you know what you did last night, Cho Seungyoun?” Sahee snaps violently, ignoring his request. “You made a fucking shitshow out of your friend group. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours so you can figure your shit out!”

“...What?” Seungyoun mutters, a deep frown settling into his face.

“I need to know what you want, Seungyoun,” Sahee says, a desperate tone lacing her voice. “Why can’t you ever give anyone a straight answer?”

Seungyoun hesitates. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” he says, and hangs up.

He sighs again.

Seungyoun runs his thumbs over the phone screen, turned off. He must’ve drank enough to completely forget most of last night- whatever Sahee is talking about, he has no clue. The last thing he remembers is leaving the barbecue place to go pick her and Wooseok up in a taxi. 

Ding!

The screen lights up with an instagram notification.

y/n.ing just posted a photo. 

Seungyoun hums your name aloud, wondering why it brings a sick feeling to his stomach. He swipes on the notification, opening the instagram app. It takes a moment to load up. He wishes that wouldn’t make him so nervous.

It’s a picture of you from the chest up, lying down on what looks like the floor of a dance practice room, hair splayed out around your face, skin glistening, a bright smile on your face. The kind of smile where your cheeks pull up high, and joy twinkles in your eyes. He can’t see that kind of detail in the photo, but Seungyoun knows that expression. He has it memorized.

One swipe to the left, and there’s a video autoplaying. 

“You make me feel special!” 

You’re singing and dancing to a song that he knows you loves- extremely dramatically, with your limbs loose and your voice turning the pop song into opera. Your group member Eunmi is visible in the mirror, filming on your phone, and clearly dying laughing. The other two members, Jiseo and Soohyun, are sitting on the couch in the back of the room, smiles evident on their faces.

You tend to do that- light up the room. 

Seungyoun scrolls down to read the caption.

‘Team bonding? #Jiseo-unniedon’tkillme #IpromiseI’llpracticemoreseriouslyinthefuture’

He chuckles, scrolling back up to watch the video of you again.

“L/N F/N,” he repeats.

“L/N F/N,” Seungyoun says, finally seeing you after searching the whole surrounding area of the restaurant. “This isn’t the bathroom.”

“...I know,” you say, looking awkward, tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. You talk softly, almost like you don’t want him to hear. “I couldn’t find it.”

“Ah,” Seungyoun cringes, grabbing his head. What is he thinking of? Was that… was that last night?

What the hell was Sahee talking about?

He exits out of instagram and opens messages instead, scrolling down to find your name. When he taps on the conversation, his stomach drops.

Y/N

Seungyoun-oppa… please stop calling me and take care of yourself instead. Have Wooseok-oppa take you home and drink lots of water. If you call your mom I’m sure she’ll bring you some soup tomorrow. Goodnight.

Seungyoun reads the message a hundred times over, his eyes catching on every piece of every word.

He remembers.

He kissed you.

And you left.

Seungyoun looks to the side, catching the way Wooseok’s head is dipped close to you, mumbling something quietly that’s making you smile. 

“Yah yah yah!” Jimin shouts, thrusting an accusing finger at you and Wooseok, her cheeks flushed red. “These two look a little suspicious!” she slaps a hand on your shoulder. “Whatcha talkin’ about over there?”

Seungyoun’s eyes narrow as you point nervously to yourself.  “Who? Me and Wooseok-oppa?”

Even then, you’d referred to Wooseok that way. When did you start doing that? He hadn’t spent too long thinking about it last night, especially with the way the conversation turned, but Seungyoun is sure that you’d never called his friend and groupmate that before. Why would you have started? Sure, the two of you had seen each other a few times at gatherings where Wooseok tagged along with Seungyoun, but you’ve never been one to throw around casual language without knowing someone well. 

Why did you have to call him that?

Slowly, Seungyoun sets his phone back down on the nightstand. He lies down in bed again, putting one of his pillow over top of his head to block out the light. 

He feels sick, and it’s not just from the alcohol. 

Maybe it’s cowardice… maybe it’s shame. But he can’t face anyone now. Not Sahee, not Wooseok, and not you.

He’ll ignore it, for now.

-

“Just hang in there a little bit longer, okay?” 

You hold your phone next to your ear, curled up in your bed, blankets tucked under your chin. 

“Give it a week, and we can go.”

“...Okay,” you respond, your voice croaky. You’d made it through today faking that everything was fine, but as soon as you got into your bedroom, it had all come spilling out in painful, long bouts of tears. 

“Y/N-ah,” Wooseok’s voice is comforting, as grating as it sounds through the receiver. “You’re a strong person.”

You hold in the whimper that tugs at your throat. “I don’t feel that way right now.”

“That’s okay,” Wooseok says, and you can imagine the way he probably looks as he’s talking. Kind, always reserved, but tender. “It’s true whether you feel it right now or not. You’ll be alright. Just put your heart into the comeback for now.”

“Okay,” you repeat, unable to come up with much more. “Promise me we’ll take a day off in a week.”

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief, pressing your face into your pillow. “Okay. Thank you. Make sure to eat dinner.”

You hear a semblance of laughter, subdued. “You too. Fighting, L/N Y/N.”

A small smile rises on your lips. “Fighting, Kim Wooseok.”

-

Seungyoun twirls the cup ramen around with his chopsticks repeatedly, zoning out, letting the noodles get bloated and cold. He stares at the clock on the microwave over the stove. It’s 7:23pm now. 

He wonders what you’re up to today. If you’re doing alright. If you’re thinking about him kissing you, or if it didn’t faze you at all. He can’t remember exactly how you reacted. All he knows is that you didn’t kiss him back. He remembers that- the feeling of rejection.

Seungyoun wasn’t expecting it. Maybe that’s why it was so painful.

The two of you have been friends for a few years now. At the beginning, you clearly had no interest in him romantically. He was probably just Jimin’s older guy friend to you- just someone who was funny and nice and fit in well with the group of friends you were building up. Seungyoun remembers when you used to openly talk about other idols you thought were really good looking or charming. He remembers when you even (albeit somewhat jokingly) asked Vernon to set you up with his groupmate Mingyu, since he was “just so handsome, and clean-cut, and kind… what kind of human can be like that?”. 

And Seungyoun remembers when things started to shift. When it became clear that you weren’t looking for Vernon to give his group member your number anymore. When you started brushing off Jimin’s teasing about getting a boyfriend, since you’ve been historically solo. He remembers when you started looking at him with a more pensive, adoring expression. Like you were memorizing things about him. Like you were taking everything in that you could.

Seungyoun knew the expression well. It’s how he looks at you, when you’re looking the other way.

You’re not subtle. You’ve never been, in all the time that Seungyoun has known you. In virtually every situation, you’re talkative and fun and supportive- you make yourself known and you make your thoughts clear. Sometimes it’s embarrassing, but most of the time, it’s endearing. He thinks that might be why you’re so popular, among your fans and the public and other idols, too. 

But you started to become quieter around him. Careful, like you only wanted to show the best parts of you. A little nervous, like you didn’t want his opinion of you to change even a fraction. It was unlike you.

You’re not subtle. Seungyoun noticed your feelings for him not long after they must have developed.

He doesn’t have enough fingers to count on his hands the number of times that he has looked at you- whether it’s across a table, a room, or on the screen of his phone- and thought that he has to tell you soon. It happens often. Whenever you set your chin on the palm of your hand, and look up at him from underneath your eyelashes. Or when you laugh at something he said. Or when he catches the way that someone else looks at you when they’re interested. But he has never said a word.

And he never planned to.

Seungyoun sighs, twisting the ramen up and taking a bite. It’s definitely unpleasant now. Too much time has passed since he poured the boiling water in.

He has always thought, from the first time that you sat down in front of him, that you are like the sun. Vibrant, energetic, full of light. You are someone who loves fully and absolutely. You are someone who dedicates their entire heart to the things you love and enjoy. You are bright, and you shine without anyone else’s influence.

Seungyoun is like the moon. He can only reflect your own light back at you. And there is a cold, dark part of him, that will only ever drag you down.

Seungyoun has always thought, from the first time that understood who exactly you were, that he is not good enough for you.

-

“Again,”

Haeyoung’s voice strikes out into the dance room. You quickly reset, and when she counts off, repeat the eight bar section cleanly.

“Good job, Y/N,” your dance coach compliments. “Everyone, follow Y/N’s lead on this one. She’s at the center so the rest of you can relax a little, just make sure to hit count five sharply, there’s a beat in the background of the music that it’ll emphasize if it looks perfect.”

The four of chorus back a yes, ssaem, and reset when she directs you to.

You started dancing when you were barely five- your mom signed you up for ballet classes because her friend’s daughter was doing them too. You hated it. Absolutely hated it. It was boring to you, just learning how to take soft steps with pointed toes, one hand on the barre that was placed in the center of the dance room. It felt like that was all you did for ages.

But your mom forced you to stay in it, telling you that since she paid for it, you were learning ballet for the six months she signed you up for. You complained and complained, but when it came time to decide if you were going to continue, for some reason, you asked your mom if you could stay. 

As you got older, learning contemporary, hip-hop, jazz, you realized that there was something about being on stage and performing out to an audience that made your heart race. You loved the feeling of immersing yourself in movement, of letting the music carry you and pull your body in every direction. 

When you became a trainee, you weren’t the greatest singer. You could hold a pitch, could sing the easier songs at karaoke, could push out a couple of high-ish notes when prompted. Your lack of skill dug a feeling of fear, inadequacy, anxiety into you. You often felt unsatisfactory, and like your position among the trainees was constantly being threatened. You spent your days in high school rushing from class to the company building, late but present to vocal lessons that weren’t required.

On the day that the president of the company made the final decision on the members of the new girl group, you were late, too. 

You were nearly in tears by the time you made it into the room with the other trainees. You’d been held up by the bus you took to get to the company breaking down. You couldn’t afford to take a taxi, so you ran. 

You were so afraid, then. Terrified of not being chosen. You felt sick to your stomach, standing in the back of the room, brushing sweaty bangs off of your forehead, hearing the president choose the third member, your friend Soohyun. 

You were barely listening. You could only hear muffled voices, like you were underwater, and the pounding of your heart. 

“The final member is L/N Y/N. Everyone else is dismissed.”

Those words, you will always remember. 

Over time, the snotty comments and criticisms from the other trainees that came as soon as everyone began to file out of the room have faded in your memory. Your shock and overwhelming relief shut them out back then too. 

The president wanted to speak directly to the four of you. You were still dazed and weren’t really comprehending what he was saying until he said your name.

You can’t remember now, the entirety of what he said to you. You just remember that he went on about something vague, that you were unpolished and unreliable, that you were not the 4th choice for the other board members and coaches.

“You need to prove yourself,” he said.

“To you, sir?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “To everyone else.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror of the dance room, feeling like your eyes are someone else’s. Jiseo, Eunmi, and Soohyun move around you, grabbing water and talking while everyone takes a break. 

You look so tired. 

It’s more than just the dark circles under your eyes and dull skin. It’s more than the exhausted posture of someone who has been working the whole day. It’s more than the sweat collecting above your brow.

You just look so tired.

Are you proving yourself? Have you done it already? If you haven’t, are you getting close? Will you ever?

Your feet sweep around lightly underneath you, gaze unfocusing as you go through the steps of the choreo again. You do it mindlessly, limbs following the memory that’ll be imprinted in your mind for years. You still remember routines that you learned when you were 12. 

“Y/N-ah?”

You stop when you feel Jiseo’s hand on your upper arm, and turn to look at her, bringing your vision into focus like you just put glasses on. Her brows furrow.

“Take a break with the rest of us.”

“Hm?” you tilt your head. You’d realized that was what they were doing. Why didn’t you join? “Okay.”

You follow Jiseo to the couch at the back of the dance room, sitting down and taking a sip out of your water bottle. You stare at yourself through the mirror. You still see the image of yourself dancing.

You need to prove yourself.

To everyone else.

-

Seungyoun sits on the couch in the dorm. The kids are at school, and it seems like Seungwoo and Wooseok are both out and about. He came here because he was tired of being alone, but he’s just as lonely anyway.

Sahee keeps calling him and he keeps ignoring her. 

Seungyoun looks at the recents list on the telephone app, his old friend’s name the first twenty at least. It’s been a few days. She still seems desperate to get in contact with him. Before her numerous calls are a few from his manager, Seungwoo, and Jimin. All of them went unanswered. 

He has to scroll down pretty far to see your name. 

The last time he called and you answered was when you told him that Sahee was in love with him. He doesn’t know how he never realized. Maybe it’s because he had been so focused on you and your feelings for him- his longtime composer friend having romantic feelings for him hadn’t even seemed plausible or relevant. 

You cried that day. He could feel your guilt and anxiety through the call, without ever seeing your face. He knew something had happened when all of you were at Jimin’s house, he had assumed that as soon as Sahee came in from the balcony without you. He just hadn’t expected it would be something that weighed down on you so heavily you would snap at him not once but twice. Seungyoun has the feeling there was more to whatever Sahee said to you than what you relayed to him, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to ask now. 

Seungyoun’s thumb hovers over your name. If he calls you now, what would you say to him? He’s desperate to know. It’s been clinging to him ever since he remembered what happened. A part of him doesn’t want to believe that you would really reject him. Even if he did make his move while wasted, that doesn’t mean you would suddenly stop liking him, right?

He groans, his head beginning to hurt with all the thoughts flying around in his head, and presses your name.

Immediately, the call screen pops up, and he presses his phone to his ear as the ringtone blares. 

It only takes a few seconds before a robotic female voice rings into his ears. “Line busy. Would you like to leave a message?”

Seungyoun sighs, pressing the red button that will hang up the call. It’s probably better that you didn’t answer anyway. He slumps back against the couch.

“As long as you’re getting through it,” 

Seungyoun lifts his head, watching Wooseok come in through the front door, phone to his ear. 

“Yeah, I’m okay too. I just got home.” 

Wooseok doesn’t seem to notice him, locking the door behind him and slipping off his shoes.

“Yeah, see you soon. Bye.” he chuckles, then adds, “Don’t worry, I will. Bye.”

Seungyoun stares at his groupmate, brows furrowing. Finally, Wooseok realizes that someone is there, and with a slight step back in surprise, lifts his brows. 

“Oh, Seungyoun. I didn’t know you came back.”

“Yeah, I did this morning.” Seungyoun can’t keep the apprehensive expression off his face. “Who were you on the phone with?”

“Ah,” Wooseok pauses for a moment. “My mom.”

Seungyoun nods but doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure why, but there’s a cold tension in the air between them.

Wooseok begins pulling off his coat, continuing to talk. “She wanted to make sure I’m eating well, that’s all. And you know she doesn’t like to hang up easily.”

A smile cracks on Seungyoun’s lips. He does know that. Wooseok’s mom is notorious for making him late in the morning before schedules. 

“There’s soup in the fridge. I had some earlier.” he says, pointing to the kitchen. “There’s some extra scallions I chopped up next to it too, you should add that.”

Wooseok nods, one corner of his lip barely lifting up. “Thanks. I’m gonna go shower. Text back Seungwoo-hyung, I don’t know if he’s coming back from his parents’ house tonight or not.”

Seungyoun nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Wooseok sets the things in his pockets on the counter and heads down the hall, presumably to the bathroom. 

Seungyoun replies to the leader’s questioning text from last night as he hears the water start to run in the bathroom. He quickly goes back to the call list, a frown drawing together on his face. For some reason, he can’t get rid of the strange feeling in his chest. Something just seems off. 

He presses your name again, pressing the speaker button so that the call just rings out loud. 

It doesn’t cut off this time.

It rings and rings, and you don’t answer.

You don’t have a voicemail message, like most idols. It’s a way to try and prevent sasaengs from being sure that they have the right number when they call. All that comes out of the speaker is that same automated voice, asking Seungyoun if he’d like to leave a message after the beep.

Seungyoun’s eyes drift up to Wooseok’s phone, sitting flat on the counter across the room. He hesitates.

Then he shakes his head, shoving his own phone into his pocket. Seungyoun gets up and walks over to the kitchen, pulling the soup out of the fridge and pouring it into a pot to start heating it up. 

-

“I really appreciate you meeting with me.”

You don’t bother matching the gaze of the girl in front of you, instead choosing to look out over the balcony of the bar you’re at. It’s a penthouse space on a moderately tall building near a few parks. The view isn’t bad, even at night.

“I can only stay for fifteen minutes,” you tell her, tapping your fingers on the table. You don’t explain why.

“Still,” Sahee says, her voice earnest. “I appreciate it.”

“What is it that you want to say to me?” you ask, getting straight to the point. You realize that you might be being excessively harsh in your word choice, but you’re tired after a long day of preparations for the comeback, and you don’t really want to be here. You only agreed to meet her because pretending like nothing ever happened was beginning to weigh on your conscience.

“I just want you to know what happened that night,” she says, becoming quieter. “After you left.”

Your jaw is tight. “I don’t really care to know.”

Sahee’s eyes flare. “Really? You know more than just me and Seungyoun are involved, right? Jimin and Vernon and Hyunggu were there too. Your friends. And Kim Wooseok.”

“I know who was there,” you reply bitterly. 

“Then you should realize that it matters, what happened,” she snaps back. Then, after a moment of silence between you, Sahee settles back into her chair and seems to cool off. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” you mutter.

“Seungyoun came back from looking for you drunk as fuck, crying, and wouldn’t explain what happened. He just kept trying to take shots even though Vernon was trying to stop him.” you cringe subtly at the thought, and Sahee seems to notice, her eyes narrowing. “Out of nowhere, he went off on me and Jimin, saying that it was all our faults, because I love him and because Jimin knew you and Seungyoun both had feelings for each other but never said anything to either one.”

You flinch. Seungyoun having feelings for you. You still don’t think it’s something you really believe.

“Anyway, the boys tried to stand up to him for Jimin and I, but Seungyoun was wasted out of his mind and having none of it. He tried to throw a punch at Vernon and broke like three glasses on the table.” Sahee shakes her head, sighing. “Wooseok grabbed him and I guess that calmed him down enough, but by that point Jimin was yelling at him and the owners were coming by to see what happened. It was a fucking disaster.”

Your eyes drift off to the view to your left again. “...Okay.”

“Okay?” Sahee repeats, sounding borderline astounded. “Don’t you feel any shame at all? He wouldn’t ever done this if you hadn’t-”

“If I hadn’t what?” you round on her, unable to hold in your frustration any longer. “What is wrong with you? You don’t know shit about me! You just keep interfering in my life and in Seungyoun’s life and in my friends’ too. It’s not my problem that you love him and he doesn’t love you, okay? It’s not my fucking problem!”

“I just don’t understand why you would give him up after all that time treating him like he was the love of your fucking life,” Sahee hisses. “You had the audacity to act all innocent when in reality you were just playing around with his feelings.”

“Don’t you think I felt that way too?” you exclaim, palms slamming onto the table. “Don’t you think I felt like he was playing around with my feelings? If it was as obvious as everyone is making it seem that I loved him, and he just let me think that he didn’t know and nobody else did either, while still doing things that made me feel like there was a chance he might love me back- don’t you think I felt like I was getting toyed with? I felt like my heart was breaking every time he said a word about our friendship, I felt like such an idiot because I could never move on. You think I’m the one who had the audacity to act a certain way? Don’t just throw all the blame on me because it’s easy!”

“I’m blaming you because it’s your fault,” Sahee emphasizes, and you let out a laugh of astonishment.

“You’re fucking delusional,” you tell her. “You should be embarrassed of yourself.”

“I don’t care what you think of me,” Sahee says, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “I just want you to answer Seungyoun so you can clear up the air about you not caring about him anymore.”

Your jaw drops, and another short laugh escapes your lips. Is she serious? “What, are you thinking he’ll suddenly fall in love with you if I tell him I’m not interested? Where did you get the idea that I don’t care about him anymore?”

Sahee doesn’t answer, seemingly stewing in her anger at you.

You shake your head, grabbing your bag and standing up. “I hope you stay healthy and find happiness, Sahee-ssi. Please never contact me again.”

You don’t stick around to hear if she says anything under her breath about you. You just leave, walking to the elevator and getting in alone, hearing the ding of twelve floors as you go down. You glance at your phone and see the notifications of two missed calls from earlier. Both Seungyoun. You sigh. You shut your phone off, and exit the building.

And you go back to pretending like nothing ever happened.

-

Wooseok thinks you look the prettiest when the sun strikes your face. He hasn’t been able to see you that way very often, because of the situations that the two of you have to meet up in. Always at night, or in dingy lighting in small restaurants that nobody really frequents. Nonetheless, the few times he has been able to see the way light shines across your skin and sets a fire in your eyes, he always thinks to himself that you look pretty.

Truthfully, he has always thought you were, even before the first time that he met you. Sure, Soohyun was the more active model and brand ambassador in your group, but you still appeared in your fair share of advertisements and TV shows. Wooseok had seen you around for a while before ever being introduced to you. 

You’re smiling now, with a childlike innocence lacing your expression. Your fingers sift through the sand, and the breeze lifts your hair, curling it across your cheeks. 

Wooseok feels something tug at his heart. He wants to tell you. How pretty you are. But your words from months ago ring in his head whenever he thinks about saying anything. 

“Am I wrong for wanting him to say that I look pretty in a photo? I hear it often, but I just want to hear it from him.”

It won’t matter to you, whether he thinks you look one way or another. It’s Seungyoun who you want to hear those words from. He doesn’t want to confuse your heart any further. So he stays quiet.

“Isn’t the beach so nice?” you ask, looking over at him. Wooseok smiles back.

“It is,” he agrees.

You warned him that the two of you won’t be able to see each other for awhile after today. You were able to sneak out for the whole day thanks to your group members’ efforts, but going forward, you’d be far too busy with actual promotions to make time for Wooseok. Or anyone besides the group, for that matter.

Like the two of you had planned, you came back to Busan. Wooseok knows that you need it. He can feel the heaviness in your touch when you grab his hand, in your voice when you talk, and in your features when your expression changes. He thinks something else may have happened yesterday too, since you seemed especially weighed down when he met you at the bottom of your apartment building this morning. But he doesn’t want to bring it up for fear of upsetting you, not when you’re supposed to be relaxing.

“Thank you, Wooseok.” you say out of the blue, shuffling so that you’re lying down completely on the beach towel beneath you. You shut your eyes, a content smile resting on your lips.

“What for?” he asks, looking down at you. You open one eye to peek at him.

“For being there for me.” 

Wooseok isn’t sure how to respond. “...You’re welcome.”

Your eye shuts again, and you stretch your arms out in front of you, the smile fading from your face. “I’m not a bother, right? You know you can tell me if I am.”

Wooseok frowns. “You’re not.”

“I’m just not sure I’m good enough for you.” you chuckle, but it sounds somewhat bitter. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Of course you are,” Wooseok replies simply, although his teeth tug at his bottom lip. 

“Are you sure?”

He knows you’re somewhat insecure. It seems to permeate so many parts of your life. He just hates to confront it. It reminds him of the person he had been once, too. 

“Y/N-ah,” Wooseok says gently. “I’m happy being with you.”

He worries for a moment, that he might have said too much. Not in terms of the number of words, but of what the words he did say reveal. 

Your response is croaky. “I’m happy with you, too.”

Wooseok’s heart swells again.

How could he ever have imagined this? The first time you talked to him, he was cringing internally at how awkward and desperate you seemed. You were clinging to his groupmate’s every word and action, and it nearly made Wooseok feel sick. 

But there was always something endearing about you. About the way you seemed to try so hard to see the good in others, and to live up to others’ expectations. You tried hard at everything. 

Wooseok never thought he would come to care about you this much. 

His mind drifts off when you go quiet again, the only sounds around him the soft rhythm of your breath, seagulls cawing, and the crash of waves against the shore.

He wonders, sometimes, if it’s fair for him to even feel this way. If what happened just over a week ago is anything to go off of, Seungyoun actually does love you. Wooseok had just never cared enough to notice, since his friend and group member never explicitly mentioned it. He doesn’t know the details on why Seungyoun kept his feelings to himself when it was so obvious that you felt strongly towards him, but evidently, the feelings are there. If he knew how Wooseok thinks about you, probably in the same way that he does, could they even maintain their friendship?

Wooseok glances down at you again. You look more peaceful now, maybe since he’s reassured you. Despite how obvious you had been about Seungyoun, he can’t tell what kind of feelings you harbor for him. He wants to believe they’re more than platonic, but then again, you never treat him like you’d treated Seungyoun. 

He sighs, then lies down next to you, putting one arm under his head as he shuts his own eyes, letting the sun graze over his skin. 

The wind is cool. The sun is hot. The ocean spray lightly lands on him, enough to feel good. 

Your hand bumps into his. He thinks it’s an accident, until you lace your fingers through his.

“Thank you,” you repeat, sounding sleepy this time. Wooseok opens his eyes to turn his head in your direction. Your chest is rising and falling slowly, with the beat of drifting off to sleep. 

He squeezes your hand in response.

-

It’s late at night when Wooseok finally returns to the dorm. Seungyoun hasn’t looked at the clock for a while- he’s just been on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

Wooseok tries to be quiet when he comes in, but still ends up making enough noise to draw Seungyoun’s attention.

“Yah,” he calls quietly. “Where were you? We all had dinner together tonight. Seungwoo-hyung was hoping you’d make it.”

Wooseok takes a while to respond, only doing so once he has made it into the living room. He shakes off his hair, though Seungyoun isn’t sure why. “I just went to see a friend for the day. I’ll apologize to the kids and Seungwoo tomorrow.”

“Oh, who?” Seungyoun asks, trying to make casual conversation. He can’t help but feel that things have been stiff between him and Wooseok since whatever went on that night that he kissed you. He can’t remember how he got home or what happened after you drove away. He gets the feeling it was a lot to deal with for Wooseok.

Wooseok hesitates to answer. “Just… just someone.”

Seungyoun frowns, but doesn’t press it. 

“I’m gonna go change,” Wooseok says, and heads down the hall. 

“Do it quietly,” Seungyoun calls after him, hearing a Wooseok make noise of understanding following his words.

Seungyoun tries to go back to scrolling on his phone, but now he feels super awake again, and his awkward position on the couch isn’t helping. He turns his phone off and stretches out his limbs with a groan, standing up for the first time in hours. He makes his way over to the kitchen, opening the cupboard to find a glass so he can get some water.

Ding!

Seungyoun frowns, looking down at his phone, but he didn’t get any notifications.

He pulls a glass down from the cupboard and shuts the door, looking across the counter to where Wooseok’s phone is once again sitting face down on the counter. 

Ding!

It goes off again, light peeking out from between the screen and the countertop.

Seungyoun shakes his head, knowing it’d be wrong to look at his groupmate’s phone. He walks over to the fridge, setting his glass under the water dispenser and letting it fill up. 

Ding!

“What the hell,” Seungyoun grumbles, setting the glass down on the counter and walking over to Wooseok’s phone, flipping it over with the intention of just turning the ringer off. 

He freezes as soon as he sees the screen.

Y/N-ah

oppa seriously you’re so lame…

why did you leave money in my jacket, i told you i would pay since i asked you to come >:|

oh well guess i have to see you again to give it back~~~!!!

Seungyoun stares until the screen fades to black, and all he can see is the reflection of his face, dark and blurry. 

“Ah,” he says to himself, his voice barely there, just a hollow sound more than anything. “A friend.”

Ding!

The screen lights up again. Seungyoun’s eyes drift down to your name again, although the new notification is unrelated. He feels something tighten around his heart- something like a vine, or a rope, squeezing and tearing into him, clenching and binding in his chest. It starts to suffocate him, a stifling pain deep inside as he reads over your name in Wooseok’s phone again, as he reads the message, and understands exactly what it implies.

His head is spinning. It doesn’t feel real. He doesn’t want it to feel real.

Seungyoun’s fingers clench around the phone, and he finds his way to the unlock screen, typing in the password he’s seen Wooseok use a thousand times. 

He lets out a bitter laugh once he sees what the background of his friend and groupmate’s home screen is. 

What else could it be?

There you are. It’s a candid image- you’re wearing the pink coat that he remembers you buying about a year ago now. You’re not wearing makeup and he hates that that seems unfamiliar. You always seemed to want to look clean and dressed up whenever you were around him. Are you more comfortable with Wooseok? Your hair doesn’t look done either.

He wonders where exactly the two of you went today. Why Wooseok was gone from the early morning to the late night.

Seungyoun opens the photo gallery, a heavy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. 

Another short, astonished laugh leaves his lips. 

“What are you doing?”

Wooseok’s voice rings out clearly, and he sounds a lot less friendly and quiet than before. Seungyoun glances over his shoulder, but can’t bring himself to make eye contact. He doesn’t answer, either, focused on the first image in Wooseok’s photos.

“Cho Seungyoun,” Wooseok says with a warning tone, and punctuates every word. “What are you doing?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Seungyoun says sourly, finally turning around and holding up Wooseok’s phone. “What exactly were you doing with Y/N today? She’s ‘just someone’? She doesn’t look like ‘just someone’, if I had to guess-”

“Are you serious?” Wooseok’s face is cold as he cuts him off. “You’re looking through my phone?”

“That’s what you’re bringing up?” Seungyoun lets out a bemused puff of air. 

“Yes,” Wooseok replies, walking forward and snatching the phone out of Seungyoun’s hand. “You should know better. It’s not your business.”

Seungyoun knows that he’s right, and that he can’t argue with whatever is on Wooseok’s phone not being his business. But it feels like his business, because you’re involved. He can’t help the snarl on his lips when he jabs a finger into Wooseok’s chest.

“What are you doing with Y/N? Taking her to the beach, taking couple pictures with her? What are you fucking doing?”

Wooseok laughs then, too. Shortly. “What does it matter to you?”

Seungyoun clenches his fists and talks through grit teeth. He’s never wanted to hit someone so badly. “What do you fucking mean by that?”

“You got too used to having Y/N give you all her love and never giving any back,” Wooseok bites out at him. “How is anyone supposed to believe that you actually care about her? What have you ever done that proves that you do? You just let her cling to you and adore you without being there for her. You let her destroy her own self-worth just because you didn’t have the courage to say that you loved her, even when you knew she felt the same way. So what does it matter to you, if I do all the things you never bothered to?”

After Wooseok finishes talking, there is nothing between them but empty space and empty noise and tension so thick it would take a sharp knife to cut through. 

Seungyoun stares at Wooseok, feeling like in this moment, both of them are unrecognizable. He never intended to drag this many people into whatever was going on between the two of you. He never planned for it to become like this, where he and one of his closest friends are butting heads over you, fighting in a dorm where nine other people are sleeping. Nine people who rely on them. 

It was always supposed to be just you and Seungyoun, until the moment when you would inevitably fall out of love with him and peacefully move on. Then it would just be Seungyoun.

Instead, it was you and Seungyoun, and Sahee, and Wooseok, and Jimin and Vernon and Hyunggu, and the members of your group, and the members of his, too. All of them had been affected. 

“Fuck,” Seungyoun sobs, turning around to set his elbows on the counter so he can put his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his already messy hair. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Seungyoun,” Wooseok says, but Seungyoun just shakes his head. 

“Fuck,” he repeats, aching in pain, feeling his throat close up as tears well up in the corners of his eyes. 

He feels a hand lightly land on his shoulder, giving him what he thinks is supposed to be a comforting pat. “Try not to stay up too late. I’m going to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

Seungyoun doesn’t reply. That only made it worse. 

Once he has heard the door to Wooseok’s room shut, he crumples to the floor, trembling and crying, trying to muffle it all so that the younger members won’t wake up and hear him. 

All he can think is why. Why did he do this? He did this to himself.

Seungyoun is still in love with you. And now, he will never have you.

[apriorisea]

BTS Imagines: When You’re Sick - Jungkook

“Stop right there.”

    You close your eyes and turn to face your manager, your argument already building on your tongue. “I’m done with most of my active patients---”     “Jennie said this is your third one.”     “She exaggerated.”     She raised an eyebrow. “So, this is...?”     You were caught. “....My second.”     “Just go home,” she sighed. “You’re off in an hour anyway and I don’t want you spreading your germs around the patients.”     This offended you just a little. “I’m being very careful! I won’t get anyone sick, I just needed some extra fluids, and the drip doesn’t get in the way of my work---”     “You look terrible,” she said bluntly. “Just go home. Have a good weekend. If you’re not feeling better by Sunday night, call me. Ok?”      “Fine,” you grumble, carefully pulling the IV from your arm. “Thanks.” You trudge to the staff room, and open your locker tiredly. You hadn’t wanted to admit it, but you really weren’t feeling great. You reach for your jacket, glancing at the calendar you’d pinned inside the door---and freeze. Oh. “Noooo,” you whine to yourself, leaning closer to inspect the date, wanting it to be wrong. It isn’t. Silently, you curse: this was your boyfriend’s one completely-free weekend this month. The only weekend you’d get to have him completely to yourself. And now, you were sick as a dog.      You shut your locker a little too aggressively, and shuffle out to your car. As soon as you’re sitting down, no longer pushing yourself to keep moving, keep working, you feel the illness settle in. This is not going to be a 24 hour thing, you think bitterly.      Even before you see his shoes lined up neatly inside the door to your apartment, you know Jungkook’s there; it was like a 6th sense you’d picked up in the last 10 months of dating him. Still, you’re overwhelmed by the happiness that surges through you when he comes bounding down the hall, his grin wide and happy, to greet you.      “Hi darling!” he says, waiting impatiently while you slide off your shoes. “You’re early!”     “Yeah,” you say, kicking your shoes out of the way. “I got sent home.”     He hears it in your voice. He reaches out to lay the back of his hand gently on your forehead and frowns. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you come home sooner??”      “I didn’t think it would be this bad,” you admit tiredly, unzipping your coat and trying (unsuccessfully) to get out of it.      Touching you extra gingerly, he helps you out of the coat, tossing it on the couch before pulling you into his arms. “Aw baby, I’m so sorry.”     You let him hold you, feeling your frustration well up again. “No, I’m sorry,” you counter. “This is our one weekend, and I messed it up!”     “You didn’t mess anything up,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “We’re still going to spend the weekend together. Come on, let’s get you to bed. Are you hungry?”     Pulling back a little, you look up at him. “Wait---you got your flu shot this year, right?”     Brushing your hair away from your face, he nods. “Why didn’t you?”     “It was on my to-do list,” you groan, leaning forward to let him hold you again. “And I’m not really hungry right now.”     He spreads several soft kisses across the top of your head then steps back. “I think we still have some cans of ginger ale in the fridge. Do you think you can drink some of that?” When you agree, he smiles gently. “Okay, then let’s get you to bed, okay, darling? You need rest.” Before you can answer, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you easily down the hall to the bedroom.    “What on earth---?” you wonder aloud, looking around the room. It’s a disaster zone, piles of his clothes spread everywhere.      “I was organizing,” he shrugs, setting you gently on the bed. “I thought you wouldn’t be home for another hour.” He starts to pull the blanket over you, but hesitates. “Do you want to change first?”     Looking down at your dingy scrubs, you sigh: “Probably.” He hovers while you get to your feet, but you stop him from following you into the bathroom. “I’m going to wash my face and change really quick. Could you get me one of those ginger ales, please?”     “Absolutely.” He still looks worried. “Anything else?”     “Nope,” you say, trying not to groan as every movement hurt your already-aching joints. “Just that. Thanks, babyboy.”     It takes you longer than usual to change into your pajamas, and halfway through brushing your teeth you realize that this illness might be a doozy. Still, he’s waiting for you when you open the door; he jumps to his feet as soon as he sees you, coming to your side and guiding you back to the bed. When he’s finished tucking you in, he stands back and examines you with a nervous look, chewing on the inside of his cheek a little.     You smile. “I’m okay,” you reassure. “It’s just going to be a longer recovery than I hoped, I think.” You reach for the remote and turn on the TV; it automatically opens to a news station. “Wow, it’s only 5:45?” you groan, glancing at your watch to confirm. “Why am I so tired??”     “Because you’re sick,” he chides, opening the can of ginger ale with a pop. “What else do you need, love?”     “Nothing.”      He doesn’t seem comforted by that answer.      “I mean...you could keep organizing, clean up the room a little bit?” you suggest, reaching out to squeeze his hand.     He holds onto yours tightly. “Okay,” he agrees. “But if you need anything, tell me, okay?”     “I promise.”     Leaning down to kiss your forehead, he says again, “I’m really sorry you don’t feel good.”     You let your eyes close at his touch. “Thanks. I love you!”     For the next hour, you switch between drama reruns on TV and he tries his hardest to focus on cleaning up his clothes mess---but every 5 minutes, he’s back at your bedside, hovering over you anxiously, asking if you need anything, feeling your forehead, and pressing more ginger ale on you. At one point, you mention that you were kind of craving a hot soup---without hesitating, he hurries to order-in your favorite kind, then sits on the bed next to you, worrying over how long it’s taking the food to arrive. When it finally does get there, he insists on feeding you every spoonful until you can’t eat anymore.      “Jungkook,” you say calmly, reaching out to grab his hand. “I’m okay, really. Why don’t you finish putting your stuff away?”     “...Okay,” he hesitates; over the last 90 minutes, you’ve definitely gotten worse, growing more pale and your fever even hotter, and he can’t seem to make himself leave your side.      Sighing internally, you use your best card: “It would really make me feel better, you know, to have the room organized and clean.”     It works. Kissing your cheek, he gets to his feet. “Of course. Do you need more medicine first?”     “No, I’m okay,” you say, snuggling back against your pillows. “I’m actually getting a little sleepy, so I might try to nap if I can.”     He brushes your hair out of your face and leans down to kiss your cheek again. “Okay. Sleep well, darling. I’m right here if you need anything.”     Trying to hide your smile, you nod. “Thanks, babyboy. I know you are.”     You do actually manage to fall asleep, and when you wake up 30 minutes later, he’s sitting next to you again.      “Hi,” he says softly, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss your temple. “How are you feeling?”     Terrible. You just groan and shake your head a little.      The worry in his expression increases. He holds something up. “My mom said that a cool cloth can help bring the fever down,” he explains, placing it carefully on your forehead. “But to make sure you stay warm otherwise.”     “Your--your mom?” you ask.      “Yeah. I texted her,” he answers, stroking your face gently. “She hopes you feel better soon.”     You sigh. “Tell her thank you. And she’s right---the cool cloth is helping.” Groaning a little, you roll onto your side, trying to stretch out your sore neck muscles.      He notices immediately. “Let me get the heating pad,” he says quickly. Squeezing your hand, he adds, “I’ll be right back!” Before practically running out of the room.      You watch him, half-amused and half-gently-exasperated. You’d forgotten that he gets like this when you’re sick: all nervous energy, restless and overly helpful. There are worse things, you remind yourself, and reach for your phone.      There are several texts from your mom waiting for you.      MOM: How do you, a nurse, catch the flu? Shouldn’t you have immunity by now?     Half-smiling, you send a message back: Hey! Nurses can get sick, too. I just didn’t get the flu shot yet this year.      MOM: Rookie mistake.      Yeah, yeah. Wait, how do you know I have the flu??     Her next reply comes with several cry-laughing emojis. MOM: Your worried boyfriend has texted me over 12 times in the last hour.      What????      MOM: Yeah. It’s cute. He wants to know what he can do to help you feel better.      You sigh, glancing into the hallway; even from here you can hear the sounds of him warming up the heating pad in the microwave. Please tell him all I need is for him to chill a bit!     MOM: Nah. Like I said, it’s cute. :)      MOM:  But let me know if you need anything, ok? Love you!     Just as you put your phone down, Jungkook reappears, carrying the heating pad with him. “Where do you want it?” he asks intently.      You reach out to take it from him, sitting up slowly to wrap it around your neck. “You texted my mom, too?”     “Yes.” He’s not ashamed. “She’s going to bring by more ginger ale later---we’re nearly out.”     “Babe.” You look up at him seriously. “I’m okay, you know. I’m not, like, dying or anything. Just relax.”     He frowns. “I know you’re not dying,” he says a little defensively. “But I don’t like it when you’re sick.” Sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, he tenderly pushes your hair out of your face. “I just want you to feel better quickly.”     You melt at his soft touch and genuine concern. “I know, I know,” you say. “I appreciate you. Just...try not to worry too much, ok?”     He leans in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll try,” he promises solemnly.     And he really does try. But he can’t help hovering around you anxiously, offering you all sorts of remedies and foods and medicines, jumping at your tiniest request, completely doting on you. When bedtime comes, he snuggles you from behind, holding you close in the dark and pressing little kisses all over you: your cheek, neck, shoulders, face, hair, back, arm, anywhere just to remind you that he’s there. You drift into an uneasy sleep held safely in his embrace.

---

The next morning, the second you wake up, you realize that Day 2 was going to be much worse. Groaning, you roll over and notice that you’re alone: Jungkook was already up. You glance over at the clock: 8:08am. Ugh.     Just as you start to sit up, he appears in the doorway. “Hi darling,” he says, and though he tries to keep his voice soft, you can hear the nervous energy bubbling under the surface. “Here.” He’s carrying your favorite mug and the contents are hot enough to have tendrils of steam coming from it. He sets it down on the side table and helps you sit up. As soon as you’re settled, he leans in and presses his cheek against your forehead. “Oh, baby,” he worries. “You’re still so hot...”     “Thanks,” you joke weakly. “You’re not too bad yourself.”     He hands you the mug---which is full of tea---and then straightens. “I’m going to get more medicine and a cool cloth and the heating pad---is there anything else?” He’s already reaching for his phone. “I can’t remember what your mom said...”     Before you can catch his attention, he’s gone. You smile to yourself and let the tea warm you all the way through. It helps, but you still feel terrible. Grabbing your phone, you send your mom a text: Feeling much worse today. I take it back---please send JK *all* the tips you’ve got...     As if he heard your text out loud, he reappears, arms full with all of the things he went to find. Once you’ve taken your medicine, have a cool cloth on your forehead, a heating pad around your neck, snuggled in blankets, and settled with another cup of tea, he sits on the edge of the bed and turns on the TV. “What do you want to watch?” he asks, reaching out with his free hand to brush your hair back from your fevered forehead.      You shrug the best you can. “I don’t care.”     He hums sympathetically and settles on the first acceptable TV choice before turning back to you. Leaning down to kiss your forehead, he lingers there for a moment. “Just give the medicine time to kick in, darling,” he says encouragingly. “It’s okay.”      It’s like you can see the nerves building back up in his expression, so you smile as quickly as you can. “I know. Thanks, babyboy. I’ll be better soon.”

---

But by 2pm that afternoon, you’re still feeling terrible. You were feeling so awful that you had stopped noticing your boyfriend’s hovering; though you were still grateful for his constant vigilance. You never missed a dose of painkiller, you always had a hot drink, the cloth on your forehead was always cool...You literally wanted for nothing. It was just a shame you were feeling too terrible to really appreciate it.      After he forced you to eat a little dry toast for lunch, he’d gone to the kitchen to clear up and get another can of ginger ale. While he’s gone, you attempt to twist into a more comfortable position; after almost a full two minutes, you still can’t find a position that doesn’t stress out your already-aching muscles. And just like that, you break, every single bit of frustration boiling up in you, and your eyes fill with hot, tired tears. You’re too exhausted to even wipe them away.      “Your mom said she could bring by more ginger ale if we need it,” Jungkook says, coming back into the room with another can, “But I think we’re going to be okay. Because you’re absolutely going to be better soon, right?” He looks up at you and freezes. “Hey.” He calls your name softly, still frozen in the doorway. “Are you...are you okay??”     You nod but don’t stop crying. “I just...I just hate...” You can’t even finish your sentence, the tears and the illness overwhelming you.      Immediately, he’s at your side. Setting the soda aside, he gathers you carefully into his arms and kisses the side of your head. “I know, darling,” he says quietly, holding you tighter. “I get it. It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I’m here.” Shifting suddenly, he maneuvers you into his lap, still wrapped in a little blanket-burrito, and rocks you back and forth, kissing the side of your head repeatedly. “It’s okay,” he repeats.      You give in immediately, snuggling into his embrace and finishing your cry pitifully. When you’re done, he still holds you fast, with no intention of letting go. Eventually you start to feel a little bit better, the combination of medicine and his comforting presence. After a long time, you softly kiss his collarbone. “I love you, Jungkook. I’m so lucky to have you.”     He squeezes you tight and turns to kiss your forehead. “I love you more. Just relax---I’ll make sure you feel better soon!”     And just like that, his nervous-energy-hovering doesn’t bother you even a little bit. You smile and cuddle against him. “I believe you.”

[overobsessivewhumper]

Mutt’s new home 2

I’m bad at naming things i write... Anyway, here’s part two! I had a tone of fun writing this, despite all the mistakes i made with the tenses...

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Trigger warnings: mention of blood and burns and stuff

Tag list: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @im-not-rare-im-rarr @comfortforthepain @18-toe-beans

To say that Gavin had no idea what the hell he was doing, would be an understatement. He’d never want anything to do with any Pet in the first place, and most definitely never wanted one as his own. He couldn’t have dealt with a Pet under any circumstances, and sure as hell couldn’t deal with one as scared as this one. He had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to frighten or stress him out, but had no idea how to avoid that. But he tried his best to just focus on tending to the injuries of the young man. Gavin crouched down in front of the couch once again.

“Could you please stop hugging your legs to your chest? Please? I just want to help you…” He complied without hesitation, albeit still shaking like a leaf. Now Gavin could get a good look at the man sitting before him. He could quickly summarize that he had no idea where to start. Mutt looks an absolute mess, and Gavin’s skills in first-aid weren’t the best. But he’d took a course a year or two ago, and remembered some of the things he’d learnt. First, he tried to prioritize what looks the worst from what looks more minor.

A dark bruise covers his right cheek, and other more faded-out ones cover his jaw and area around the eyes. A not too old looking cut lays high on his right cheek, and there are abrasions covering his jaw in places. Gavin guesses the latter is due to the muzzle. Bruises cover Mutt’s neck, probably from choking, and shoulders. Gavin reaches out and carefully prods the man’s clavicle and gets greeted with a whimper in response.

“Sorry…” Mutt doesn’t show any sign of having heard him.

After doing the same with his other collarbone, Gavin thinks that it’s safe to say they both seem intact, despite all the bruising. The same goes for his ribs. The bruising there is still dark in spots, but all in all, it appears more faded. The criss-cross of new and old cuts, some looking almost fresh and still bleeding, others already healing or scars. His left side bears an injury, that on closer inspection, turns out to be some sort of burn or scald. Curiosity drowned out by common sense Gavin doesn’t press Mutt on the subject. His legs look a similar state to his chest, though there seems to be more burns here. Specifically two pretty nasty ones in either crook of his knee. Gavin only finds out about these when he tries to shift Mutt’s knee to take a better look at it, slipping his hand under it. The man lets out a pained howl which he quickly tries to quench by biting into the side of his hand.

“Shit! Sorry! Sorry…” Leaning down a bit more, Gavin tries to see what caused such a reaction. The ugly burns that he discovers shock him. “Shit… That looks bad… Shit.” Gavin feels sick. It sickens him that someone would treat another person like this. “Shit. I’m really sorry.” Not knowing what to say, Gavin continued looking at the rest of Mutt. Next to a probably sprained ankle and some healing cuts at the bottom of his feet there was nothing too different from the rest. There seem to be a lot of scars hinting at past injuries, like long scars covering the bottom of his feet and palms of his hands, and the scars at his left shoulder, knee and some on both of his hands probably from breaks that needed medical attention. And his back was most definitively a mess. Scars cris-cross in each direction, with fresher welts and cuts that lay over those.

Gavin has to take a moment to breath an think. He stands up and takes a few steps away from him. Pacing back and forth, tugging at his shirt nervously, he tries to get his act together. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about himself right now, but he was finding it hard to process this all. At the start of the night he was thinking about if his hair didn’t look like he was trying too hard to look smart, and now he was the owner of an injured and traumatized Pet who has probably seen more abuse and pain dealt to him then Gavin could even imagine. What was he going to do? He couldn’t just… fix the damage and wrongs Mr. Hughes and others had done to the man like one would fix a car with a dented hood. Taking a deep breath Gavin pushes his nerves away as best he can, and turns back to the matter at hand. Mutt is trying to sit still, but can’t stop the trembling in his limbs. Gavin walks back over to him and crouches down.

“I’m… I’m going to try to take care of your injuries the best I can now. Some of it will probably hurt, so please tell me to stop if it’s too much, or I’m doing something wrong. I’ll… Yeah, I’ll just start if that’s okay…” Slowly, Mutt nods.

He starts by trying to clean any open wound with water and disinfectant. If he learnt something in the first-aid course he attended, it’s that you should clean open wounds thoroughly. The man was obviously trying his best to stay quiet, and was scarily good at it too. The fist time he let any kind of sound out being when Gavin pressed the wet cloth to the burn on his flank. He let out a quiet whine, closely followed by a hasty, frantic apology. Gavin made sure to assure him that it was okay for him to let out noises of pain if the pain got too bad and hoped it didn’t sound like he just wanted to hear his Pets pain being vocalized. Tending to his back and the nasty burns in the crooks of his knees lead to more pained whimpering, and Gavin had to stop for a while to let him breath whilst treating the latter. Gavin soon notices that he’ll need to buy more first-aid supplies, especially bandaging materials. But he has about enough to get the open wounds covered more or less.

Taking a look at the man, Gavin decides that it won’t be getting any better then this. To be honest, Mutt does not look any better at all. Now he just looks unwell and covered in bandages and plasters and such. Gavin sighs and rests his face in his hands.

“How are you holding up? Would you like an Advil?”

Scrunching his face up in confusion and leaning forwards, Mutt inquires “Ad… Advil?”

“Um… It’s a painkiller.”

“I… With… With all d… due respect Sir, I know wh… what Advil is…” Mutt ducks his head, like he’s expecting to be slapped. “I… I was just wondering… Why was… waste medicine on… on a… a Pet, Sir?”

Gavin messes with his hair whilst trying not to plot his boss’s murder. “I… I don’t see it as wasting medicine if I give it to someone that needs it. And I think you could use an Advil…”

“R… really, sir?”

“Yeah… Also, no need to call me Sir…” Gavin grabbed the box of Advil and a glass of water, handing both to the man sitting on his couch, who takes it looking unbelievably grateful. “It probably won’t take the pain away completely, but might… take the edge off. I don’t know… I’m not a pharmacist or a doctor…” Nervously Gavin runs his hand through his hair again and smiles a little bit awkwardly.

“Thank you Mas…” Mutt stops himself, takes a deep breath and tries again. “Thank you Ga… Gavin.”

Gavin laughs awkwardly. “No need to thank me. You shouldn’t have to be in pain…” For a moment, Gavin zones out, just staring off into the distance. Until he suddenly snapped out of it when he realized that Mutt was still only wearing those short white pants, that basically where essentially just boxer shorts, and that he still hadn’t offered him something to eat.

“Wait here a moment…” Gavin started to go off to look for a  clean pair of pyjamas for his… guest. “I’ll be right back!” It didn’t take him long to find something. A light-grey, short-sleeved top, and a pair of light-blue pyjama trousers. Both where relatively loose and mad of soft cotton.

Rushing back downstairs and handing the man the cloths and telling him to put them on, Gavin leaves to give him some privacy. So he goes to the kitchen to try and find something for him to eat. Gavin guessed he’d probably had pretty sparse meals whilst living with his previous master, so he opted to try and find something not all too heavy.

After checking the fridge and cupboards, he decides to make a bag of alphabet soup. Broth seems to be the go-to food for people who haven’t been eating for a while or are sick, and something warm was sure to be a good idea. He put the kettle on and went to check on the man. He was sitting on the couch again, trembling lightly.

“I… Uhh… Put the kettle on to make you some broth. I hope that’s okay.” Mutt nods eagerly. “So… would you like to… sit at the table until it’s done?”

“Sit… at a table? I’m all… allowed on furniture?” Gavin nods. The man gets up, looking slightly unstable. Gavin moves closer, letting Mutt lean on him. The way to the table is a bit slow, but no one ends up falling over, so Gavin sees it as a success. Sitting down, the man winces.

“Shit… Um… What’s causing you pain?” Looking him over, Gavin’s nerves return full force. What if he had overseen something? What if he had internal injuries? A look of shock crosses Mutt’s face and staring at Gavin with wide eyes he replies.

“It’s no… nothing new… Jus… just the abrupt change of posture pu… pulling at the injuries. Also the burns on my l… legs.” Gavin was surprised at Mutt’s lack of trying to hide his pain, but was happy he was being honest.

“Oh. Maybe if you move a bit forwards on the chair it won’t touch the burns?” Mutt doesn’t hesitate to do what Gavin told him to do. Gavin smiles, hoping he’s more comfortable now. Suddenly springing into action, Gavin broke the silence.

“I’ll get you the broth. You just… stay here and try to relax I guess.” Gavin shrugged, and went back into the kitchen. He made the soup in a bowl, making sure to ad a bit of cold water, to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Grabbing a spoon from a drawer, he made his way to the table. He put the soup down in front of the man who he now apparently owned, and smiled.

“Eat up. Or… don’t. I’m not forcing you to do anything.” He shrugs. “Just… eat as much as you feel like eating.” Thankfulness spreads over Mutt’s facial expression, and, still a little hesitantly, he starts to take spoonful after spoonful of soup.

Gavin takes the moment of relative calm to sit down on one of the other chairs, using his elbow to prop up his head. A wave of tiredness overcomes him. Well it was like… two in the morning, right? Gavin had no idea. He knew it would have to be early, but he wasn’t wearing a watch, and his mobile was probably in his jacket. All he knew, was that he was tired. Trying to keep awake and focused, he tried to concentrate on the man sitting at the same table as him. That did work for a while, but not for long. Soon his thoughts drifted, and his focus waned and not even the feeling of his face hitting the table could snap him back to reality.