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byeoltoyuki · 3 years

Text

Make It Right ⇾ JHS

↳Pairing : You x Hoseok

Genre : Fluff / Angst if you squint / fake dating if you squint

Words: +17k

Warnings : Oral (f), tying

Summary: Sometimes all you need is some pretending.

A/N: Surprise! I'm not dead (yet). I know I have my Jimin's story to work on, but sometimes my brain refuses to cooperate with me fml.

One day i swear i'll be on time. Happy Birthday again babe! @hopikoya

Going to a club one week before your exams was probably the worst idea ever. You knew it. Your boyfriend apparently knew it too but still insisted to go which resulted in you going too because come on, you didn’t want to be a party pooper (his words, not yours). You loathed the idea; you weren’t particularly fond of clubs to begin with, half of the time you went for the sake of your boyfriend and half of the time you would sip on your drink at the bar and watch him have fun with his friends, ignoring your existence while you were bored to death.

Just like tonight. Except tonight, there was something in the air, something bad and ominous. Your guts were telling you to go back home, forget about your boyfriend, have fun by yourself instead of staying at the club at two in the morning where half of the crowd was drunk if not completely wasted.

But did you listen to the little voice in your head? Of course not.

From your favorite (not so much) spot at the club, you sipped your second mojito while watching your boyfriend, Hyeonwu, having fun. From the way he was moving, you were certain he had drunk more than he could handle - you sighed at that, knowing beforehand that the night would be very long. You should have stayed home.

But you didn’t and for what? For a relationship that was doomed from the very beginning. Hyeonwu and you were different, too different even. He was outgoing, popular, arrogant from time to time (it stung to admit it to yourself).

Everything you weren’t.

You didn’t like clubbing, you didn’t like being the center of attention but because you liked him, because he chose you, you accepted to sacrifice everything you were for him.

Tonight was one of those nights, your heart was aching, your mind was restless and you couldn’t help but think that this relationship had to stop before you would get hurt. More than you already were.

Ironically enough, Hyeonwu was the one to give you a good reason for finally snapping from your role of the perfect, innocent and docile girlfriend. Instead of asking you to dance with him (you weren’t even sure he remembered he came at the club with you), he found himself another girl to dance with, a girl willing to be what you couldn’t: daring, provocative and would say yes to anything.

You would have accepted to put up with his behavior if only his hands didn’t roam around her body the way it would with you. If he didn’t start kissing her neck as if he wasn’t taken, as if you weren’t in this club too.

You couldn’t do it.

"Excuse me," You called for the bartender. "Can I have a glass of water please?"

He eyed you, annoyed with your request but pushed the glass of water towards you nevertheless.

You didn’t thank him for that considering how rude he was to you anyway, instead you started walking towards them while you still had the courage, while your blood was still boiling and you felt like punching him from stomping your heart.

Once you were close enough, you emptied your glass right at Hyeonwu, he was the one you were aiming, the one who had angered you but the girl got splashed anyway too. They both jumped, the girl shrieking loudly (even with the loud music you heard her) while Hyeonwu groaned and checked his clothes.

"The fuck." He was mad, even in his drunken state he was mad and his eyes found yours quite soon.

A nice boyfriend would have apologized right away; would have felt bad about what he did but Hyeonwu? No. The sight of you only made him angrier.

"What do you think you’re doing, woman?" He growled at you and took a dangerous step towards you.

"Me?" You scoffed at his words. And here you became the villain when really, you were the victim.

And then he took another dangerous step that should have scared you if you weren’t so angry yourself. "Yes, you, Y/N."

"Don’t you dare blaming me, babe." You swore to yourself it would be the only time you would accept to make a scene while being surrounded by strangers. The only time you would want to be the center of attention, because you wanted him to feel bad, to feel humiliated for what he had done.

He didn’t of course.

"Oh please. Always ruining the fun for others. Aren’t you tired?" He scoffed in return.

"Ruining the fun?" You repeated to yourself, words sounding foreign to you. How were you ruining the fun when he was being unfaithful? Certainly your relationship wasn’t what it used to be but still. How could he? By the time you wanted to snap back at him, he was back by the other girl’s side, checking on her.

"You got to be kidding me."

"Hyeonwu." The girl warned him about you getting dangerously closer to them.

In that moment, maybe you had underestimated Hyeonwu’s state. Maybe you had also underestimated your own state. And maybe, finally, you had completely misjudged the person who you used to date. The words died on your tongue as Hyeonwu raised his hand - you shut your eyes tightly, ready for the slap, for the wakeup call.

But it never came.

Surprised, heart roaring in your ears, you opened your eyes but not quite ready to see what was right before your eyes. Someone, in this mess, chose to stand up for you. Before Hyeonwu’s hand could reach your face, a man interfered. A man you couldn’t see except for his back, for his dark brown hair.

Your first thought was that you couldn’t believe Hyeonwu would go as far as try to hit you. Your second thought was about the crazy stranger who, without being asked, chose to stand up for you. It was dumb and dangerous and so not his business but for a short moment it made you feel safe.

“Who the hell are you?” Hyeonwu yanked his arm free from the stranger’s grip, annoyed and more than willing to fight.

But the stranger didn’t seem fazed or impressed despite all the muscles and for Hyeonwu being taller than him. “What kind of man are you? You were about to hit a woman, I couldn’t possibly stand aside and watch it.”

Despite your anger, despite your pain, his voice stirred something inside you; it was strangely familiar and brought a fuzzy memory to your mind. But it couldn’t be, you told yourself. There was no way, so you chose to shove back the memory and concentrate on your present.

“How chivalrous of you but I suggest you to mind your damn business instead of mingling with mine.” Hyeonwu took a step towards him but was quickly held back by the other girl who looked nervously at the two man. At least she didn’t want it to get messier.

“Please don’t.” She begged him.

You shook your head, whispering a ‘no’ and a ‘it can’t be’ as your eyes darted back and forth between Hyeonwu and the girl. And here you thought Hyeonwu was too drunk, thought he had picked a random girl. He didn’t. He so obviously didn’t but somehow, all this time you managed not to see what was right under your nose. Your anger vanished as fast as it came; defeated you had no more strength left to fight Hyeonwu, no more strength left to make him understand how cruel he was to you when all you ever did was try to please him.

Home. You wanted to go home. Except and sadly for you, you lived with him.

“Fine.” You heard Hyeonwu, “Whatever.”

He left. Without a word, without a single glance, making it look like you didn’t exist. You swallowed your tears, your pain, refusing to crumble in a damn club.

Once sure Hyeonwu wouldn’t try to go back on his word, your savior turned to look at you. If you weren’t feeling so down, so empty, you would have realized sooner that the stranger was more familiar than you thought. If you weren’t worrying about your future, you would have noticed how he opened his mouth to speak – you chose the same moment to turn your back and leave. You needed to escape for the sake of your sanity. Or what was left of it.

In your misery, you happened to be quite lucky. When the next day you got back to your shared flat, Hyeonwu was nowhere to be seen and for that you were thankful. You didn’t know whenever it was intentional on his behalf or if he had simply stayed somewhere else, either way it gave you enough time to gather all your most important belongings and leave this place.

It hurt. Your heart, your pride, but you told yourself it was for the best.

Mina welcomed you at her tiny place with opened arms. She didn’t ask for details, giving you time to adjust and sort your thoughts; she would listen when you needed it. She always did.

Mina’s flat was small but cozy, filled with plants of all sorts, with fluffy blankets on wooden chairs, on the couch, with candles all around the place. It was the dream of any witches in your opinion, but it felt like home and just like her.

As you came back with your suitcase, you were greeted with a soft meow, followed by Mina’s fluffy black and white cat that Mina chose to call Pie because she kept saying cutie pie (you had rolled your eyes at that).

“Hello there.” You kneeled to Pie’s level and rubbed its head.

“There you are!” Mina came out of the kitchen, wearing a cute pink apron. She beamed at you and showed you the way. “I freed three shelves for you.”

It was sweet and you were grateful to have such a good friend but you didn’t intend to stay. Not for long at least. Hopefully.

“I know that look.” She interrupted your trail of thoughts. “You don’t bother me, don’t worry. Take your time.”

You smiled.

By some odds, your big brother was back in the country which was a good thing because you hadn’t seen him for whole two years and living with him could be nice. Back when you used to live together, you were partners in crime, driving your parents crazy. So of course, when you received one morning his message telling he was back, you jumped on the opportunity and asked to meet him.

When you got to the café, it took you less than two seconds to spot your brother. How could you not when few females were openly flirting with him. That brought back some goods memories; you smiled and shook your head in feign despair. Some things just never change.

“I see your popularity is still no joke despite you being an old man now.”

Your voice made him forget all about the women around him. He jumped from his chair, too excited and bounced on you (attracting even more attention on both of you). You laughed at his eagerness as his arms circled tightly your waist – Jimin lifted you from the floor and spun you around laughing along with you.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Jimin put you back on the floor but his arms stayed around you. He was beaming, so happy, eyes twinkling at the sight of you. “Look at you.” His hand found your cheek, fingers stroking gently your skin which brought back flashes of memories of your younger days. “Not a kid anymore, are you?”

Your brother was being dramatic. “Oh come on. I didn’t change that much!” But maybe you did, in a way.

Jimin led you to a chair before taking place before you. “You did.”

“And you’re being dramatic.”

“That too.” He smiled sheepishly at you. “And for your information, I’m not old.”

Such a familiar and warm smile – you had missed him a lot.

For a moment, you forgot all about why you were so eager to see him. For a moment, it was just you and your brother and you wanted to catch up with him. “How was it?” Your eyes shone brightly, curious and excited to hear his stories. “How was England?”

“Rainy. Cold.” He chuckled at that. Jimin put his elbows on the table and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “But it was interesting. I will definitely go back there.”

“And leave us again!”

“Oh you missed me that much, pumpkin?”

“Of course I did! Nobody annoys me as much as you do.”

“Not even your boyfriend? What was his name again? Hyeo-, I don’t remember.” Another time you would have rolled your eyes at him because Jimin did remember Hyeonwu’s name, he just didn’t like him that much. But then again, he never liked your boyfriends. This time, however, you didn’t roll your eyes, you didn’t sigh in despair. No, you flinched and clenched your fists under the table.

Jimin noticed the change in your mood instantly. He frowned, taken aback. “What is it, Y/N?” Jimin asked despite having an idea of what had happened while he was away. “Do I need to punch someone?”

For a short moment, you allowed yourself to smile as you imagined your adorable but idiot of brother trying to fight with Hyeonwu who was much taller and stronger than him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But it felt nice knowing that your brother still had your back.

“Oh but I’m very serious. “

This time you rolled your eyes. “You’re just looking for a fight.”

Jimin pointed at himself in fake disbelief. “Never!”

But you knew better. “I need a place to live.”

At first Jimin seemed confused and you quickly realized your mistake. Nobody, including your parents, were aware that you chose to live with your, well now ex-boyfriend for the past year. You gulped as you saw Jimin’s jaw twitch, eyes darkening with every passing seconds. To say that your big brother was not delighted would be the understatement of the century. But for once, instead of cowering in fear (because your brother could turn from a ball of fluff to a very angry and scary man), you huffed and chose to ignore his behavior. “Oh don’t judge me, will you? I already have enough on my plate.”

Jimin opened his mouth (probably to say something mean) but close it right away. He closed his eyes, counted to ten and then looked at you again. “Where are you staying now?”

“With Mina.”

Jimin hummed in response. “Good, good. I guess you want to move in with me then?”

He, of course, said yes.

Living with Jimin was nothing like you thought it would be. You expected him to set rules for you to make sure you wouldn’t disturb his life too much with your presence. You expected not to see much of him because your big brother was a busy man (and you were convinced it wasn’t only because of work). But none of that happened. No, living with Jimin felt like being back at home, minus parents’ presence of course.

Jimin did everything in his power to make you feel at ease. He let you redecorate the spare room, the kitchen, the living room, not caring whether the outcome would suit his taste or not as long as it meant you felt at home.

You had the best brother in the world.

"Hey pumpkin," Jimin called for you from his room, he was getting ready. "My friends are coming over. I hope you don’t mind."

You scoffed as you leaned against the door, rolling your eyes at him. No, really, why would he think it would bother you when he was being so nice. "And if it bothers me, are you going to take your little boys’ night to another place?"

Jimin froze for a short moment, pondering on your question. You worried for a minute that he took you seriously but he grinned and you relaxed. "I’d have to get rid of you actually. Maybe I’d lock you in your room."

"You don’t have a key."

"I actually do."

Now you were worried which didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin because he laughed, hard.

"I would have found a solution." Jimin finally said and got closer to you. He put his hands on your shoulders and gave it a squeeze. "This is your place too."

You shook your head in half disbelief, refusing to show him how his words made your heart swell with love and pride to have Jimin for your brother. "Ts, so annoying." You smiled nevertheless. "So, who’s coming?"

Jimin’s grin only widened. "You probably remember some of them! We’ve been friends since high school."

And remember them you did.

To say that you were mortified at the fact that the stranger from the other night stood in the middle of the living room, talking and smiling brightly at your brother, would be an understatement. Your heart leapt in your throat as one more realization finally dawned on you.

This man. This very handsome, with bright smile man, was no stranger at all. No, this man was no other than Jung Hoseok, one of Jimin’s best friend. But Hoseok wasn’t only Jimin’s friend. No, you remembered all too well how you had felt for years about him.

He was your crush. Your personal sunshine who loved teasing you whenever you were in the room. How you managed to not recognize him that night, you didn’t know and you tried not to think much about it either. For the sake of your broken heart.

The Hoseok from your memory and the Hoseok standing now, despite being the same person, felt extremely different. He was still of course as handsome, as shining but despite his huge smile, despite his laugh, there was something dark about him and you couldn’t tell whether it was a good or a bad thing.

Hoseok’s eyes found yours; something flashed through his eyes, maybe he recognized you as just Jimin’s sister or maybe he recognized you from that night, either way, your treacherous heart missed a beat and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

Jimin noticed his attention had shifted. One look at you and his eyes shined brighter than ever. "Guys! I think you all remember my cute little sister, Y/N?" Then he double checked you, "Though she’s not little anymore."

"I’m still cute though." You cut him before he could make fun of you. To that Jimin only chuckled.

"Y/N!"

Too stunned with Hoseok, you barely noticed that two other men were in the room and you happened to remember them too. Namjoon and Taehyung - you waved shyly at them.

It was strange to meet them again after such a long time. Despite being curious about them, about what they had become, your eyes were once again on Hoseok and to your utter surprise he was still watching you with a knowing smile. God. You came to realization that you had to avoid him and avoid being alone in the room with him, too scared of what could happen.

Through the night, you had found out many useful and not so useful information such as your brother was still a complete dork whenever he was surrounded by his friends, it was as if he hadn’t aged a day (which made you smile fondly at him and joke around). Then, you found that Namjoon became a scientist - not a surprise. The Namjoon you remembered always carried a bag with books too complicated to understand for average people (or ‘for poor mortals like us’ was what Jimin used to say).

Taehyung, and probably to his parents’ dismay, chose the life of an artist; he became a photographer and travelled the world. That didn’t surprise you that much either. You expected him to become a model, nobody could ignore a face like his, but apparently Taehyung enjoyed being the one to take photos.

"Aren’t you going to ask me what I became?" Hoseok asked from his chair, hand on his heart, he feigned being incredibly offended and hurt (apparently, he didn’t like being ignored, especially by you).

You chewed on your lip, weighting the risks; if you snapped at him, Jimin would know you had met Hoseok somewhere and you didn’t feel like explaining yourself but if you kept ignoring him - it would be risky too. So you put on a big, fake smile on your face and looked at him. "What about you, Hobi?"

A glint of something dark and dangerous lit in his eyes, only few seconds and it was gone. But you saw it. You shivered but refused to show any of it. There was no way you could still be crushing on him, you told yourself. But apparently your brain and your body didn’t quite agree on that.

Hoseok chuckled. "I’m delighted to hear my nickname. Nobody had called me ‘Hobi’ for a while."

Jimin cleared his throat but before he could say anything else, Taehyung stepped in. "I call you Hobi every day though."

Ha!

Hoseok shot Taehyung’s a nasty gaze that would have sent any normal person cowering in fear but Taehyung only blew a kiss before winking at you. Well, that was something.

Defeated, Hoseok ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, that you do. But you’re not a fine lady, Taehyung." Then he looked at him, up and down, "Unless you’re hiding something from us?"

Taehyung eyed him for a moment. "Do you want to see my dick to be sure I’m a man?"

That made all of them relax and laugh - you included.

"So?" You looked at Hoseok, smiling more sincerely at him. "What do you do, Hobi?"

He looked surprised but quickly regained his composure and smiled back. "I actually work with Jimin."

"Poor souls." Was your only comment which made Jimin slap your arm.

"You look better." Hoseok’s voice startled you and the cup slipped from your hands but fortunately for you he was fast to catch it before it could shatter. You cursed under your breath; cursing both Hoseok for taking you by surprise and yourself for being so jumpy because of him. "Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you."

You straightened your back with a huff; Hoseok looked too smug for your liking. "The only thing that scares me is your eyes." Which was half true. His eyes did something to you that you didn’t quite like.

"What about them?" But you refused to answer that; there was no way Hoseok wasn’t aware of what he was doing and you refused to play his little game. Which made you wonder, was he always like this?

"What about them, Y/N?" He repeated.

Hoseok took a step towards you and you step back and repeated till your back hit the table and you found yourself trapped between Hoseok and the table. He was playing a dangerous game and you shouldn’t let him but there was something so alluring - you couldn’t resist.

He had his arms at each side of you, hovering over you. This was definitely not the Hoseok you were used to.

You licked your lips nervously, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his very inviting lips. You had to be mad to even contemplate the idea of kissing him, it would be so easy. "When did you become so daring?"

Hoseok actually chuckled at that. "I always was. I just didn’t want to scare you back then; you were such a cute little girl."

"You’re just seven years older, I wasn’t a little girl back then." You were but the stubborn part of you refused to let him win and apparently Hoseok realized it too as he laughed.

"The last time I saw you, you were eighteen. Was it at your birthday party?" He got a hold on a strand of your hair, twisting it, curling around his finger, he was lost in his memories - he smiled and looked straight into your eyes. "Jimin got mad at you because you wore an incredibly revealing electric blue dress."

Your breath hitched in your throat. How could Hoseok remember something that had happened five years ago? Something you would have forgotten if not for Jimin’s scolding.

"Can’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, I would have thrown you over my shoulder and brought you back to your room to change." He brought the strand closer to his lips and you swore your heart missed a beat.

Fuck. You were still crushing on him.

"Now, since I’m not your brother, I can tell you that I enjoyed the view." Then, he leaned closer till his warm breath reached your ear. "And I wished I could do more than just watching from afar."

Shit.

But that was it. No matter how much Hoseok wanted to toy with you, there were limits (or more exactly, there was a Jimin) - he took a step back. "Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it; you look just as easy to tease as back then."

That was your wake up call. You jolted from your place and put as much space as you could between Hoseok and you. You looked at him with mixed feelings. A part of you enjoyed hearing those words, those confessions from him, on the other hand his behavior made your blood boil with anger. How dared he?

You stormed out of the room, deciding that there was no way you could deal with this Hoseok tonight. Or any other night.

Later, however, you found a tiny piece of paper along with a phone number and instead of throwing it in the bin, you hid it safely in your sketchbook.

"I’m glad to see you’re not doing your puppy eyes to Hoseok anymore." Jimin plumped on the bed beside you, disturbing your peaceful drawing moment. The mere mention of Hoseok made you tighten your grip on your pencil and by some miracle it didn’t break under your strength.

Jimin noticed it and cocked a brow at you. "Interesting." He nudged your leg with his feet to get your attention - you refused to acknowledge his presence if he wanted to talk about this annoying friend of his. "You used to follow me everywhere as long as Hoseok was around."

No, you wanted to protest but then, that would be a lie. You did follow Jimin as much as you could only to be able to see Hoseok (even if half of the time you couldn’t muster the courage to talk to him which only amused both of your brother and Hoseok).

"Back then I thought it was cute. Annoying too, but I couldn’t even get mad with you."

"Is it heading somewhere or?" You finally looked at him and you regretted it instantly. Jimin had a smirk plastered on his face which was bad omen for you. "Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Get out."

"Oh come on, pumpkin!" He nudged you again. "I won’t talk about embarrassing memories." He promised which was probably not his initial plan. "However, what was this all about with Hoseok earlier?"

Jimin was too observant, you used to know it but somehow it had escaped your mind.

You sighed in defeat, closed your sketchbook. "Nothing." That didn’t sound as convincing as you expected - you cleared your voice, awkwardly. "Maybe I was embarrassed with how I used to be around him."

"Hm." Jimin didn’t sound convinced but shrugged, choosing for once that he could live with it. "Fine." He jumped from your bed, "But just so you know, I don’t believe you."

You simply stuck your tongue out and let him leave.

Yes, it was good living with Jimin.

Mina chocked on her Frappuccino, not believing your words. “You’re kidding, right?” But seeing that you kept your face straight, Mina understood that it was not some kind of joke. “You’re not kidding.” She wiped her mouth with a tissue and then really looked at you. “Well shit.”

You snorted. ‘Well shit’ was almost your initial reaction too. Except it had changed. A little. Or not. The moment Hoseok had showed his true colors, you forgot all about your crush and just wanted to smash his pretty little head. That was a lie. You didn’t want to smash his head, you wanted something else but refused to admit it to yourself.

“Is it what people call fate?” Mina wondered out loud, ready to elaborate her theories (to your biggest dismay). “Not only your savior was, is a hot mess-“

“I never said he was hot! I only said I used to crush on him when I was younger.” You regretted your outburst the moment it left your mouth as Mina’s wicked grin only widened.

“Potato, potato.” Mina wiggled her finger at you. “And this same hot stranger is actually your brother’s best friend and the guy you used to crush on. This is fate.”

“This is bullshit.” You snapped back but Mina didn’t seem fazed with your attempt to protest and prove her wrong. Maybe you could try harder but sadly, you knew she was a lost cause and because you did believe it was a rather nice coincidence.

The mere thought of Hoseok made your blood roar in your ears as images from the last time with him flashed through your mind. It had been days and there must be something wrong with you because no matter how hard you tried you would think about him, about how close he got to you when you were trapped between his body and the table.

“What are you going to do about him?” Mina resumed sipping on her drink but she was watching you, gawking at you.

“Nothing.” What could you possibly do? Even if he was Jimin’s friend (which was already a big deal) and even if Hoseok seemed inclined to flirt shamelessly with you, you didn’t know him well enough and you were scared of who he was. Scared but intrigued. And maybe tempted.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should.”

“Is it about Hyeonwu? It’s over. You need to move on.” And because Mina knew all too well, she raised her hand to stop you from snapping at her. “I know you loved him. And I’m not telling you to pursue that hotmess or even fall for him. I’m just saying that a little distraction can be very helpful. And from what you’re telling me, this dude seems to be into this kind of distraction.”

You thought about this option for a moment, slumping further in your seat. Mina was right, it could be helpful but it didn’t change the fact that Hoseok was Jimin’s best friend; it was too dangerous to consider. You shook your head in defeat but before you could share your mind, two men stepped inside the café.

Two all too familiar men.

Two incredibly annoying men too.

You bit on your lips hard before letting a groan out. “You got to be kidding me.”

Mina followed your gaze, curious at your sudden change of behavior – what she saw did not disappoint her. She easily recognized one of the two men; she had seen some old pictures of you and Jimin and she must admit that you both looked quite alike. The second man, however, she did not recognize but judging from your reaction she had a little guess.

“The blond one is your brother I suppose?” You nodded, half hearing her, your eyes were on them. “And the other one is…?”

“Hoseok.” You regretted whispering his name. It was as if, despite the chattering around you, despite the music, he still heard you – his eyes were on you. Fuck.

But maybe for once you were lucky. Hoseok only winked at you (which didn’t go unnoticed by Mina) and turned back to Jimin who was, surprisingly, oblivious to the little exchange.

Mina whistled before averting her eyes. "I must say, it’s one thing to see your brother in photos and find him cute - but damn girl, he’s hot as hell. Can I have his number?"

"Fuck off."

She laughed.

Another day, another party and another regret. Clearly, last time should have been enough for you for many reasons but when Mina begged you to go with her, how exactly were you supposed to say no? She promised to not stay long which you believed her; Mina at least had control over time she spent dancing and drinking and she would never leave you alone unless you asked her to. It was why you said yes.

The regret came once you were inside.

It was a birthday party of one of a guy from your class whose name you had already forgotten but he sure as hell was famous considering how crowded and noisy it was.

"Oh it’s going to be so much fun!" Mina almost squealed beside you. She flipped her hair and winked playfully at you. "Let’s grab a drink babe."

You had to admit that despite the crowd, despite the place being noisy, the music was good and you couldn’t possibly say no to free snacks (and drinks) and maybe Mina’s enthusiasm was slowly rubbing on you as you found yourself smiling.

That was until a very familiar voice echoed from somewhere near you. Mina froze on the spot, two drinks in her hand - so did you. Hyeonwu was at the party which you should have expected. He was a social butterfly, of course he would go to a big birthday party.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and counted till ten. Mina got to your side and handed you the drink (that was incredibly needed).

"Is killing still forbidden in this country?" Mina joked though she did look like she was about to murder someone in cold blood.

"Sadly." You patted her back. There was little you could do in this situation; you could be a winner and simply ignore the tightness in your chest, enjoy the night; or you could be a looser by going home and crying the whole night. You refused to give up so easily.

Sadly for you, it wasn’t over.

"What about Y/N?" You heard someone ask about you - this time you felt your heart leaping in your throat. Why did people still need to talk about you, about your relationship? You considered it rude.

"What about her?" Hyeonwu asked sounding particularly disinterested.

"Since I don’t see her with you, I guess the rumors are true - you broke up."

"Not like she mattered anyway."

Maybe you were going to kill him after all before Mina could even lay her hands on him.

"I’m going to kill him." She growled dangerously beside you.

"Don’t. I really don’t want to visit you in jell and bring you oranges."

"I would rather you bring me chocolate."

You both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Hyeonwu was an ass and he could go to hell; you would not let yourself be weak, you would not let yourself shed any more tear. No.

"I think I need something stronger."

It seemed like a good idea at the moment.

You learnt much much later that it was, in fact, a very bad idea.

Awful idea.

Especially when the last thing you remembered was Mina telling you to slow down on alcohol.

God.

You should quit drinking, not like it was a habit of yours but surely you had outdone yourself considering how your head felt; heavy, splitting. In fact, you felt like you were dying.

Your whole body ached, moving in the bed was pure torture.

Bed.

You jolted in the bed and regretted it instantly as the room spun around you and you felt a wave of nausea. You clamped your hand over your mouth; god, you were a mess.

You pushed back the blanket covering your body only to see that you weren’t naked but you weren’t wearing your own clothes either which definitely wasn’t much better. No, you wore a black shirt that was way too big for you, reaching your mid thighs.

Another wave of nausea.

To say that despite you being hungover you panicked at the idea of being somewhere you didn’t know with someone you didn’t know would be an understatement. You took a deep breath, calming your crazy heart and trying to keep your wish to empty your stomach at bay. You forced yourself to replay the party in your head.

The music, the people you had met, Mina, even Hyeonwu and his words you could remember. But you leaving with someone? That was a big mystery. No matter how hard you tried to remember, to even catch a glimpse of a memory - it didn’t work. There was nothing you could do except being, for once, a big girl and go face the unknown in hope that whoever’s place it was, was a nice person.

But the reality that welcomed you once you stepped out of the safety of the room was so much better.

Or worse.

Really, it was all about perspective.

Hoseok was preparing a breakfast for both of you, music playing and he sang along; you thought he was unaware of your presence. Oh how wrong you were. "Sit."

I’m going to be sick. It was one thing believing you ended up so drunk you would leave with a stranger or maybe a fellow student of your college but it was a whole new level of panic to find yourself in Hoseok’s shirt and in his kitchen. ‘How’ and ‘why’ were on the tip of your tongue but Hoseok turned around, hands on his hips he looked like an angry parent instead of - your crush.

Helplessly you followed his order.

"Good girl." Was the only thing he said and then, he resumed his preparation.

How confusing. He didn’t try to mock you or to explain, it was as if all of it was perfectly normal. As if you were friends. As if you hadn’t done something stupid. God, you hoped, no, you prayed you hadn’t done something stupid.

You cleared your throat, quite awkwardly. "How bad was it?" A part of you was scared to know, but you had to know and start somewhere.

Hoseok ignored your question.

It bothered you to no end that he chose to keep his mouth shut when he could find so many reasons to either scold you or mock you. He did none of that. He busied himself with the breakfast and only when pancakes, Nutella, orange juice and coffee was on the table, he finally sat across from you.

“Eat.”

Your jaw clenched. “Are you going to order me around or are you going to answer my questions?”

Hoseok sighed. He put his elbows on the table and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “I don’t think you’re ready for answers to be honest, Y/N.”

It did something to you the way he said your name. It shouldn’t, really, but it did. You gulped, staring nervously back at him – he looked too damn smug (and handsome with all the sun on his face). “It’s that bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“Shit.” You slammed your head on the table, startling Hoseok with your sudden gesture; he was ready to jump from his place and to get to you but then you turned your face to look at him, miserable and ready to curse yourself and your life.

Hoseok chuckled and shook his head in defeat. Cooking had eased his mind and calmed his nerves. But seeing you genuinely upset with yourself was enough to unsettle him and make his anger vanish. “You were a mess.”

You blinked at his words; finally he was willing to make you remember (and if not, explain) what happened. “How bad?”

“Well. According to your friend you got into a fight.”

“A fight?! Oh my god, with who?”

Hoseok bit on his lips, trying hard not to laugh at you. “You punched your ex.”

You stood from your seat too fast and felt dizzy right away. With a blink of an eye, Hoseok was by your side, a hand on your back and steadying before you could collapse on the floor. “Easy tiger.”

“Sorry.” You sat back. “It can’t be. I’ve never hit anybody in my life.” Then you thought about a time when Jimin had intentionally told your parents about your supposed weekend with your friend which was a cover for your weekend with your boyfriend. It was the only time you truly got mad at Jimin and had punched him in the face. “Well, except for Jimin.”

“Shocking.” Hoseok feigned surprise. “He does deserve a beating from time to time.”

Despite your anxiety, you chuckled. “And what happened after I hit him?”

Hoseok’s whole face darkened for a second; it was so fast you could have imagined it. But you didn’t. “According to your friend, he tried to slap you. Again. Luckily for him, your friend got you out of his way before he could do so.”

It was a very odd thing to witness. Hoseok was clearly annoyed, no, angry with Hyeonwu, maybe because he didn’t like men who would raise their hand on women or maybe it was just because of you, either way it was odd but nice. “You’re angry.”

Hoseok didn’t deny it. “I am. But not only with this piece of shit. Last night I was angry with you too.”

“Why me?” You frowned, “Did I do something else?”

Hoseok considered telling you the truth. He eyed you from head to toes, eyes lingering a little longer than acceptable on your bare legs before shaking his head. He wouldn’t tell but his gaze was enough to tell you that you had done something stupid.

“Don’t tell me I jump on you.” You almost begged him.

Hoseok blinked before bursting into laughter. “I would have loved that.”

His response confused you. If you didn’t jump on him (which would have explained his shirt on you) then what was it? You glanced at your hands and then at Hoseok, scowling half angrily at him – he flicked gently your forehead in response. “Really, you don’t want to remember this part.”

Your eyes widened in realization; there could be only one other thing that could embarrass you. “Oh no. Please, tell me I didn’t throw up.”

Hoseok winced at the memory. “You did and then passed out in my bathroom.”

You buried your face in between your hands, wanting the floor to swallow you whole. You regretted bitterly your poor choices in life. First you got wasted, then you thought it would be cool to punch your ex (he completely deserved it). “Wait. How did you know I was at this party?”

“You messaged me.”

“I did what?”

Hoseok showed you his phone and the messages you exchanged in your drunken state. Bloody hell. Second reminder to yourself: quit drinking. You should have called for Jimin but instead you chose Hoseok (and here you thought you would never dare to send him a message). You told him how lonely you felt and that you wanted to leave the party. This was embarrassing, enough for you to hide for a while but you also couldn’t ignore the fact (and it warmed your heart more than it should) that instead of ignoring your texts, Hoseok came for you.

"You could have called Jimin." That was definitely not what you wanted to say. A ‘thank you’ would have been better but somehow you wanted to know why he came.

"He would have asked why you asked for me instead of him." Hoseok sighed, too aware that he was playing a dangerous game that could not end well. "I shouldn’t have left you my number. But you know what? A part of me is happy I did." Hoseok gently took your hand and started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. "Who knows what would have happened otherwise?"

Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes darted back and forth between his face and his hand.

This Hoseok seemed so much more familiar compare to the one you had faced last time. He was sweet and gentle and of course a little tease.

"You know," Hoseok started, he watched you trying to figure him out, "If love doesn’t work for you maybe you should try something else."

To say that you didn’t think about the morning with Hoseok or his words would be a lie because you did. Quite often even. A part of you clung to the memory of his touches, of his words but another, and the more rational part of you told you to forget and to move on.

You couldn’t.

You couldn’t forget when you saw Hoseok every now and then. Hoseok made it even harder; he would never miss a chance to tease you (whether it was about that day or another subject) when nobody was looking.

One word from you and you could have stopped it. But you didn’t. No. You could pretend you didn’t like all this attention but it would be another lie - you loved it.

You sighed as once more you were thinking about Hoseok. How troublesome.

It was getting late. You should have been home for a while now but because of the project you were working on, you had to stay later than usual. Jimin had promised to meet you after work with cookies which would have been perfect after such a long day - Jimin was late.

One glance at your phone - still no news from your brother which worried you. Did he somehow forget about you? That would be very unlike him but the alternative scared you.

A car stopped right by your side. You glanced at the car but quickly averted your eyes, it wasn’t Jimin’s.

The person inside the car however wasn’t done with you. Winding down the window - you heard a familiar voice calling for you. A voice that made your skin tingle and warm right away.

"Hobi?"

"Get in." He smiled brightly at you, "I’m your driver for tonight."

Oh. Oh boy.

It took you all self control not to show him how you felt about it, instead you hurried to get inside his car and tried to look casual. "Do I want to know why you’re here instead of Jimin?"

"Ouch. A lesser man would have been hurt with your words, princess." Hoseok, however, didn’t seem that hurt in your opinion - he winked playfully at you and started the car. "Jimin is stuck in the office so I offered to pick you up."

"How nice of you, oh my savior." You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him.

Hoseok laughed and to your utter surprise patted your naked leg. It was such a simple gesture, probably with no intention behind, but your body reacted on it own, burning under his touch. You bit on your lips and tried to regain composure, but your mind seemed to concentrate only at the spot on your leg Hoseok had touched. Geez Y/N, calm the hell down!

"How come you were staying so late?"

You welcomed this distraction with a sigh of relief; if Hoseok noticed he didn’t comment. "I’m working on my art project and I’m a little behind the schedule."

"You’re art major?" Hoseok was surprised for a short moment before memories flashed through his mind. "Right. Why am I even surprised." He chuckled to himself. "I remember you spending hours drawing or painting while we would be playing games in the background. I don’t know how you managed to concentrate with all the noise."

At least he admitted that they were the noisiest persons you had ever met. But truth to be told, it never bothered you. Yes they were loud and would try to distract you when you weren’t even trying to talk to them, but their energy, their pure friendship, the atmosphere around them was something that fueled your inspiration. "I never minded."

Hoseok glanced at you, one brow arched. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. "It helped me."

"Well, if you’re ever stuck, just call us. I’ll be more than glad to be noisy." He joked.

"Will do."

Asking Jimin about Hoseok without actually letting him know how you felt was tricky. Jimin knew you like the back of his hand which meant that whether you tried tricking him into believing that your questions were out of pure curiosity or not would end the same way: Jimin knowing your tiny crush on Hoseok was not as tiny as you thought.

You took the risk anyway.

While Jimin was drinking his coffee and reading newspaper, you sat in front of him and poured yourself some coffee too. "Hey Jimin," He only acknowledged your presence with a hum, waiting for whatever you wanted to say. "Are you planning to have a boys night soon?"

Jimin lowered the newspaper, checked your face before resuming his reading without giving you a proper answer which made you scowl at him. Was he in a bad mood? "Jimin-"

"Don’t say it." He interrupted you before you could try again, still without looking at you.

You blinked, confused. "Say what?"

"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to ask."

You huffed and crossed you arms over your chest; you couldn’t believe he could possibly know what was on your mind. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." But you did.

Jimin slammed his newspaper on the table (and you winced at his reaction), his eyes dark and threatening were on you. Well, you had completely forgotten that your bother could get quite intimidating when he wanted to. You chose not to cower and just huff one more time in annoyance and maybe a tad of provocation.

"You aren’t asking when I’m going to see my friends. "Jimin pointed at you, "You’re asking when I’m going to invite Hoseok over so you could see him again."

Yeah, ok, Jimin really knew what he was talking about. You bit on your lips, contemplating whether you should be honest with him or tell him he was wrong. You couldn’t muster the courage to lie. "So? When is he coming?"

Jimin groaned. "Y/N."

"What? I’m just curious."

"No, you’re not." JImin’s jaw tensed and for a second you thought all hell would break loose. But to your biggest surprise, Jimin kept his temper in check and simply shook his head. "He’s not the right guy for you."

You scoffed in disbelief at his presumptions.. "Are you telling me this as my brother or as his friend?"

"What’s the difference? I’m telling you he’s not right for you."

"And of course you know who’s right for me?!" Getting angry and raising your voice at him was very unlike you; it took you by surprise and so it did to Jimin as his eyes widened slightly in shock.

Jimin inhaled and exhaled, trying to be the mature one and not to get angry. "I actually do."

You doubt that.

"You want to feel the butterflies. You want a prince, a fairy tale. You want someone who would be willing to sacrifice everything for you. I’m sorry but Hoseok isn’t this kind of man."

The urge to throw the rest of your coffee at him was very strong and so damn tempting. But that would be extremely childish of you and would only prove him he was right.

He was, but you weren’t ready to admit that just yet.

Jimin’s words had hit home. He was right about your view and expectations from a relationship and yet what Jimin also didn’t know was that your faith in love had shattered. It wasn’t like Hyeonwu was the love of your life and you expected to get married and have two kids with him. No. But the betrayal left a bitter taste in your mouth. So why not try something else? Something so out of your character? And who would be the best to show you the way than Hoseok?

"I know this look. You’re up to something." Mina nudged you in the stomach making you groan in both pain and annoyance. But Mina only wiggled her brows playfully at you. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

She didn’t buy it even for a second. "Nothing would be you not checking your phone every five minutes as if you’re waiting for someone, probably your very hot crush, to text you back."

You gave her the stink eye. Mina was too observant for her own good. You bit on your lips but chose not to tell her what was on your mind.

Mina huffed in annoyance as she realized that. "Fine. Don’t tell me."

But just like Mina had mentioned, you checked your phone hoping to see a message from Hoseok. You had sent him a message two hours ago, telling him you needed a lift which you didn’t but he didn’t need to know that. Till now, you still had no answer which shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. It was just a game, you promised yourself.

Mina grabbed your arm and forced you to halt. "You should probably stop checking your phone and look before you instead." A wicked smile that sent shivers down your spine spread on her plump lips. She pointed at something, at someone and when your eyes found that someone, your breath hitched in your throat and you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing.

Hoseok was leaning against his car, all in black, and looking too out of place in your opinion but so damn hot. The black turtleneck sweater and leather jacked looked all too good on him. He was a walking sin.

And apparently Mina agreed to your thoughts as she whistled and nudged you playfully. "I guess you won’t need a lift after all."

"See you tomorrow." Was the only thing you managed to say, eyes glued to a smiling Hoseok, heart roaring in your ears as you took a step towards him.

"Have fun!" Mina said too loudly for your liking. You hoped he didn’t hear it.

He did. Hoseok’s smile turned into a smirk, but at least he didn’t comment. He opened the door for you like a gentleman. "My lady."

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he would say something like that.

To say that you were nervous would be the understatement of the century.

You drove in almost complete silence. Music played in the background and usually it would have helped you to relax but it didn’t. You kept glancing at Hoseok - if he noticed, he didn’t comment. How exactly were you supposed to bring the subject without making a fool of yourself?

"So," Hoseok cleared his throat to get your attention. "Are you planning to tell me what it’s really about?"

You snapped your head so fast at him, eyes widening. He knew you were up to something. Maybe he knew exactly what you were up to and this thought wasn’t very comforting.

You averted your eyes from his face and looked instead at your curled fist resting on your thighs. You were exactly where you wanted to be and you needed to be brave to tell him what you wanted.

You took a deep breath and looked at him. Confident. "Do you remember what you told me last time?" As you saw him frowning you quickly added, "If love doesn’t work for me I should try something else."

Hoseok’s grip on the wheel tightened. "I remember." Despite that he didn’t look at you or elaborate.

His lack of reaction (you expected him to laugh at you at least) only made you more nervous - you shoved it somewhere far and stayed as composed as possible. "Want to help me with it?"

Here. It was out.

Hoseok pulled over without a word or a single glance at you which quite frankly made you want to jump out of the car and forget everything about your plan. It was stupid, reckless. What were you even thinking?

As the car got to a halt, Hoseok turned to look at you. Really look at you. His eyes were dark and if you didn’t know better you would have thought they were hungry. Sadly, it couldn’t be true.

Hoseok licked his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, giving you a terrible impression that suddenly you were his prey. "Did you call me in hope I’d say yes?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. And yet your voice got stuck in your throat.

At your silence, Hoseok only chuckled and leaned closer so his hand could reach your warm face. Gently, he stroked your cheek. There were things he wished he could tell you, but he couldn’t. You weren’t ready.

"Did you think I would say yes to fuck you, Y/N?"

It was exactly what you hoped, exactly what you wanted. And yet, having Hoseok so close, muttering those words made you gulp, frozen on the spot. It was stupid. You were stupid.

What were you thinking, Y/N?!

Hoseok pulled back. "Thought so."

He took you home without a word.

You had fucked up.

Holidays meant more time for you. Meant more time to heal from your break up, more time to work on your project that didn’t go as planned, and sadly more time to think about your humiliation. You couldn’t forget what happened in the car, how stupid you were and how bad you had felt afterwards. Luckily for you, Jimin hadn’t invited Hoseok or any other of his friends which let you all the time to gloom.

In fact, Jimin was barely at home at all which in a way was great for you; you had more space for yourself and at least he wouldn’t know about your mood. But it didn’t mean he didn’t notice.

On the third day of your holidays, Jimin barged in your room, startling you. You were so engrossed in your painting that you hadn’t heard him at all.

"That’s enough." Jimin looked genuinely upset and tired.

You eyed him, a brow cocked at him. "What is enough?"

"You. Do you think because I have been so busy, I haven’t noticed your behavior?" Jimin pointed an accusing finger at you. "Just because you’re alone in there don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in your pretty head."

Jimin approached you and put a bag at your feet.

"What is it?"

"My company is having a party and I need you to come with me."

That was ridiculous. Not because you didn’t like the idea of going to a party (though after your last experience, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea), but you going with Jimin didn’t make much sense. He could get any date he wanted, why would he bother to bring his sister instead? You shook your head in disbelief. "Jimin, you can ask any of your girl friends to come with you."

Jimin huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "I could, but my little sister is being a depressed, ugly monster right now. You need some fresh air."

You tried to hit him for the ‘ugly monster’ but Jimin was fast to dodge your attack, laughing at your attempt. "Get ready. We’re leaving in two hours."

"Would it be enough for you to get ready?" You joked, though it was half true. Jimin tended to spend more time than you to get ready.

He only stuck his tongue out in reply.

There was no denying, Jimin’s company sure as hell knew how to throw a party. You didn’t expect much when he asked you to come with him but you definitely blessed him for bringing you along. The venue was beautiful; from lights to the layout of the place, to the music in the background (and let’s not forget about the food and free alcohol). For a second, you forgot about Jimin and let go of his arm just so you could wander and have a better view of the place - Jimin only smiled at that and watched you from afar.

After three days of mopping around, it was good to see your eyes shining brightly and looking forward for something, even if it was for one night. Jimin hoped that by bringing you with him, it would make you realize that whatever was bothering you wasn’t worth it.

"I take it as you like the place." Jimin joined you and snatched two glasses of Champaign. "Here."

You being you gladly accepted. "I do. Are all your company’s parties so luxurious?" Then you glanced at the people around. They all looked classy and beautiful with their outfits and you were more than thankful that Jimin found a pretty hot dress for you - a red, long backless dress with a front split.

"No. This one is more formal but sometimes…It gets crazy." Judging by Jimin’s reaction, you decided that you didn’t want to know about the crazy parties, just because imagining your brother doing something reckless was too much no matter how close you were.

"Come on, sis. Lets the fun begin." He showed you his arm and you gladly accepted it.

Jimin was an amazing brother.

You, of course, already knew that, but tonight one more time he proved you just how good of a brother he was. Nothing obliged him to stay the most part of the night with you, nothing. But he did. He drank with you, stole some food with you when nobody was looking (though would it still be considered stealing when he belonged to the company). He joked with you, commented on people. He introduced you to his people, his crew and by the huge smiles on their face, you knew just how much Jimin was appreciated.

You wanted him to enjoy the night. "Jimin," you tugged his hand gently. "Go. Have fun." Which only made him frown. Of course he wouldn’t understand which only made you smile fondly at him. "I think you’ve spent more than enough time with me, you should go and enjoy yourself."

Jimin scoffed. "What makes you think I’m not enjoying myself?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Oh please. Do you think I didn’t see how you were eying this girl by the window? I’m not blind." You pinched his arm making him yelp and take a step from you. "Go. I’ll be fine. I probably won’t stay for too long so don’t worry for me."

Despite your attempt at convincing him to leave you alone, Jimin hesitated.

"I’m going to get really mad if you don’t go to her." You warned him.

"No you won’t." But he smiled nevertheless. "Fine." He ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair and sighed in defeat. "Fine. But just so you know, I had fun tonight. It reminded me the good old days - I hadn’t realized just how much I missed those times."

You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze - you completely agreed with him. Till tonight, you hadn’t realized just how much you missed spending some quality time with him. "Now go and you better not come back before morning!"

This time, Jimin rolled his eyes at you.

Proud of yourself, you snatched another glass of champaign. You wandered around the huge place without really minding people until, and sadly for you, you bumped into someone you didn’t expect to see tonight because your lovely brain had chosen to forget that Jung Hoseok was also working with Jimin.

You stumbled - Hoseok was fast to grab your arm and steady you.

Bloody hell.

Why.

How could you have forgotten that Hoseok too was working in this company and that obviously he would attend the party was beyond your comprehension. Why did you always forget about the most important things that could have avoided you some unwanted situation?

You had no words. You felt embarrassed and not only because you had bumped into him. No. The simple sight of him (looking absolutely devastating in his black suit) brought back the memory of the very humiliating night that you wished to forget.

"Sorry." You quickly apologized and while Hoseok was too stunned to see you, you ran away.

The moment you reached the stairs, you took your damn heels off. Your feet hurt and with you trying to get away from Hoseok as fast as possible - it hurt. You leaned against the wall for a short moment, taking a deep breath.

"Put those back on." Hoseok’s voice startled you and you almost hit your head in the process.

"Not your damn business." Shit. You wanted to smash your head against the wall, feeling utterly stupid for being suddenly so harsh and so not like you. Yes, you were frustrated. Yes, you were angry, but with yourself.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was stunned but only for a short moment. It wasn’t very often that he witnessed your sassy and angry side but he decided that he liked it. He had two options before him; he could either leave you to your fate and go back to the party (a party he wasn’t very fond of anyway) or he could stay with you. He chose the latter.

Without a warning, Hoseok lifted you from the ground - you yelped in surprise and fear but your arms instantly flew to his neck.

"The hell are you doing?!" You screamed at him.

"Since you’re being so disobedient, I’m bringing you home." Was his only answer.

You couldn’t accept that. You pinched his nape, hit his chest in hope he would let you go. He didn’t and he wasn’t bothered with your antics. Oh no, it amused him. All your attempts at being feisty and strong - he knew he had the upper hand.

"Jung Hoseok, you better put me down now or-"

"Or what?" He cut you before you could finish your threat. "You’re going to scream?"

That was your first option, yes, but you weren’t sure you wanted to attracted any attention on you. You hit him instead in the chest. Again.

Hoseok chuckled and his grip around you tightened. Before you could ask him anything, he took you by surprise by putting you on a car. His car. You blinked, confused, and observed him.

Hoseok didn’t say a word, he simply watched you, licking his lips as his eyes roamed through your body.

Good god. Your skin flushed under his gaze. You were in so much trouble.

"That was unnecessary." You said as you tried to slid from the car - Hoseok was faster. Before you could get back on your feet, he got closer to you. His hands were on your exposed thighs as he settled between your legs. Dear lord. Your heart leapt in your throat at the sudden proximity and the feel of his hands on your bare skin. Just like the last time, it burnt, so bad, so good.

"Hoseok?"

He didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, on the feel of your skin against the palm of his hands. He was supposed to be the reasonable one but the moment he spotted you at the parted wearing this sinful dress, all his resolution vanished - he wanted you. He pressed his head against your forehead, eyes never leaving your lips. It was pure madness. "Tell me to stop, Y/N."

"Wh-what?" You were genuinely confused.

His hands traveled through your body, slowly, gently, feather like touches that sent shivers down your spine and straight to your core. He was toying with you and your feelings - you couldn’t think straight.

"Tell me to stop." His lips were impossibly close, all you had to do was to tilt your head and your lips would finally meet his. "You’re the only one who can stop me. Say no and I’ll stop and bring you home."

You gulped nervously and at the same time hopeful and excited with what he could do if you said yes instead. "And what happens if I don’t stop you?"

Hoseok groaned as he closed his eyes. He imagined many things, especially ever since you mentioned fucking him - he couldn’t stop thinking about it. "Jimin is going to kick my ass."

More confident, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him closer against you. You whispered against his lips, "I’m going to protect you then."

You sealed the promise with a kiss.

It was seven in the morning, you were a mess but a rather satisfied mess. Hoseok had dropped you after the almost sleepless night you had spent at his place. You expected him to regret having sex with you, heck, you expected to feel guilty about it too but none of it happened. Hoseok had woken you up with a gentle kiss on the lips, on your cheeks, on your shoulders - he didn’t particularly wanted to part with you but he knew better than to take risks with Jimin.

You pushed the door to Jimin’s place as quietly as you could, hoping deep inside you that Jimin had listened to your advice and spend the night somewhere else while you were supposed to be at home.

On your tiptoes you walked through the place, trying not to knock anything on your path - Jimin cleared his throat.

"Holy shit!" You jumped and slammed your hand over your chest. "You scared me!"

What Jimin was doing awake at this unholy hour (at least for a Saturday) was beyond you. He was at home and you were in trouble.

Jimin eyed you with a quirked brow, up and down, taking notes of your state. You wanted to ignore his glare and run to the safety of your room but sadly, your feet were rooted to the ground, staring back at him. "Hi?"

Jimin shook his head. "So. Whose body am I going to bury in the garden?"

"We don’t have a garden." You answered without thinking - Jimin rolled his eyes in response.

Yes, you were in trouble.

What was supposed to be a one time thing with Hoseok turned into something more. Every time he called, you said yes, swearing every single time it would be the last because you were terrified at how he made you feel. But you couldn’t get enough.

You bit on your lips while playing with your pencil. Instead of drawing, in class, you found yourself glancing at your still red wrists - memories flashed through your mind and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together.

Flashback

You watched, completely bewitched, as Hoseok tied your hands to the bed with a red silk ribbons. With every step he took, Hoseok watched you carefully, making sure he wasn’t overstepping some boundaries, that you were hundred percent comfortable with whatever he was doing to you.

You were.

God, you were more than that judging by how wet you were and he hadn’t even touched you. Another time, another day you would have felt embarrassed about being so aroused but it was Hoseok and if there was one thing he made sure to teach you was that you should never be ashamed or embarrassed about yourself.

Never.

"Such a good girl for me." Hoseok praised you and once he was done with the knot, he pressed a gentle kiss to your wrists. Such a sweet and delicate gesture that sent shivers down your spine and to your core - you pressed your thighs together seeking any friction you could get.

Hoseok chuckled at your attempt but did nothing to ease your aching body, no, instead he pulled back and admired the view before him.

You were splayed in front of him, lips beautifully swollen with all the kissing, pupils blown. It was his favorite view; you being naked and so willing for him, he was getting harder with every look he took.

"So beautiful." His finger trailed along your calf, drawing circles.

"Hoseok." You pleaded, skin on fire. You wanted him to touch you, to feel him.

Hoseok only smiled in response and considered what he wanted to do with you. He crawled, parting your legs in the process. He kissed your calf, a warm and gentle press of the lips that got you to whine in both delight and slight despair. You were torn between the wish he could simply ravish you, or the wish he would take his sweet time with you, torturing your body, your senses - you bit on your lips.

"What should I do with you, baby girl?" Hoseok hummed as he hovered over you. His fingers trailed along your jaw before his thumb was rubbing your lips. He loved your mouth, those pretty lips that could drive him crazy. He would have loved to feel your mouth around his cock, to have you chock around him. Yes, he would love that very much but another time.

Anything, you wanted to say but your words got lost the moment his hands started roaming your body. They were everywhere. On your thighs, your stomach, your breast. Every touch drove you crazier and he knew it. Hoseok knew your body like the back of his hand and he sure as hell knew what to do to make you beg.

"Hoseok, please." You begged, not giving a damn as long as he gave you what you needed. "I need you." You lifted your hips to lean further in his touch but Hoseok pushed you back on the bed. So easily. "Please."

"Such an impatient little thing." He tsked but his smirk only widened.

Before you could whine, his lips claimed your mouth, demanding, wet, intoxicating and brief. You wanted to pull him back, to deepen the kiss but you couldn’t. You pulled at your restraints, the cloth only sank into your skin.

Hoseok’s lips traveled from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, leaving as many purple marks as possible (knowing all too well that you would complain later); your body was a white canvas and he sure as hell wanted to work on it.

His lips followed an invisible path, slowly, sometimes gentle sometimes harsher, you could never guess when he would worship a part of your body and when he would suddenly bite hard enough for you to cry out his name.

Hoseok covered every inch of your body with kisses and by the time he came face to face with your dripping pussy, you were a crying, bothered mess. His lips weren’t the only thing that drove you completely mad. No, the whole time he worked on you, his eyes never left yours and this simple sight made you almost come undone.

"Hoseok." You could feel the tears of frustration at the corner of your eyes; you were too wound up to be able to bear it any longer. You needed him, now.

Hoseok’s grin only widened before he kissed, eagerly, your clit - you threw your head back, letting out a loud moan and pulling again at your restraints. It was so annoying not being able to move freely; you wanted to grab Hoseok’s hair, pull his head closer to your heat and to feel more of him.

Hoseok feasted on you like a starved man, tongue and lips working magic between your legs. Your mind went completely blank, overwhelmed with all the tension in your body, all the fire and incredible pleasure that made you see stars.

"Fuck, Hoseok." You moaned his name over and over again.

Hoseok hummed in satisfaction and gave your clit a particularly harsh suck that made your toes curl. "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you, baby girl." He glanced at you and the sight of Hoseok’s glistening lips with your juices made your walls clench around nothing.

Fuck.

"You taste so sweet." He licked his lips. "I should probably kidnap you more often and have my way with you."

Before you could suggest him that kidnapping you whenever he wanted (even if you loved the idea) was a bad idea unless you wanted to deal with a very angry Jimin, Hoseok finally gave you something to fill the emptiness inside you: he pushed a finger against your hole, then a second. Your walls welcomed him eagerly.

"Look at you." He hummed in approval as his fingers stretched you, making you push your hips to swallow more of him. "This pussy is so greedy."

"Hoseok." You cried out, "Please, please."

All he gave you was a gentle press of his lips against your thigh before going back to his work, fingers, tongue, overwhelming you till you couldn’t see or hear anything, till your body tensed before exploding.

But Hoseok didn’t stop. Not when you were pulling at your restraints, not when you were trying to get away from his tongue, your body being too sensitive after your first orgasm of the night.

He was going to be the death of you.

End flashback

You swore to whoever was willing to listen (and maybe to yourself too) that this art project would be the death of you. Usually, art wasn’t a problem; you loved painting, you loved drawing, it was your way to express yourself, to immortalize a moment in life, anything. But this project? You couldn’t concentrate on it. You tried, thousands of times but every time what came out of you wasn’t enough.

You came home exhausted, upset and wanted nothing more than a warm meal, a shower and the comfort of your bed. Those plans, however, vanished from your mind, the moment you spotted extra pairs of shoes at the entrance and judging by the numbers, you put two and two together.

A tiny smile spread on your lips as you walked on tiptoes, making sure to not make any noise just so you could check on them without them noticing. And what a sight! Three men completely sprawled out on the couch with fluffy blankets and cushions, wearing pajamas and of course with tons of snacks on the coffee table. You had to memorize this image - discretely you took your phone out and snapped a picture, smiling proudly to yourself. This was perfect blackmail material.

But then, and sadly for your brother, you noticed what exactly they were planning to watch on TV. You gasped loudly, making yourself known. "How dare you."

"Hi Y/N!" Taehyung waved cutely at you and you almost forgot all about your wrath - how were you supposed to stay mad with those pretty twinkling eyes and pretty smile? No really.

You shook your head and averted your eyes, stopping quickly at Hoseok. He wiggled his brows playfully at you causing a hot fire spread through your body - you rolled your eyes at him to make a point. This was not the right time or place to mess with you. When your eyes met Jimin’s, you gave him the stink eye.

"Hi sis."

"Don’t hi me you traitor!" You took a dangerous step towards them and you swore Hoseok tried to bite down a laugh (Jimin nudged him in the stomach for that). "I forgive Taehyung and Hoseok because they don’t know what Marvel means to me, but you," You pointed an accusing finger at him, "My own brother! How could you!"

Yes, you were absolutely dramatic and ready to flip a table.

"Oh come on, Y/N, we weren’t-" Jimin started. He was tempted to fight you, it was just so fun to see you so annoyed, but another part of him was genuinely worried of what you could do.

"We were planning to watch Dr. Strange." Taehyung threw chips in the air and caught it easily with his mouth, that almost distracted you if not for the mention of your favorite Marvel.

Jimin shrieked and grabbed Hoseok to shield himself from your wrath. "I’m sorry!!"

"You’re so dead." You warned him and you would have jumped on him to probably strangle him if not for a very smug Hoseok who was all too amused with your antics. You promised to yourself to deal with him later. Nobody was allowed to mock your love for Dr. Strange. Not even Hoseok. No matter how good his dick was.

"I’m going to take a quick shower and you better wait for me to start the movie or I swear to god you’re all dead." You warned them, eyeing every single one of them. Jimin hid fully behind Hoseok and cursed under his breath. Hoseok shook his head while Taehyung blinked completely unfazed with your outburst.

They listened.

Whether it was out of fear or because they really wanted you to join them for their Marvel’s night, they waited for you.

By the time you joined them in your pajamas, Taehyung was wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by pillows, sitting on the floor instead of the couch. He winked at you and patted the empty space beside Hoseok. Hoseok lifted the blanket that was covering him to let you in. For a second you contemplated the idea of sitting beside Jimin instead of Hoseok, it would be annoying yes (because you still felt like beating the crap out of your brother), while sitting beside Hoseok would be too tempting.

You sat, of course, beside Hoseok, your heart and wish to be beside him won over your brain. He covered both of you with the blanket and pressed his thigh lightly against yours. You closed your eyes, thought about Dr. Strange; you had to focus, on the movie, on the actor, on anything except for the warm hand that was suddenly on your thigh.

This was exactly what you had feared. Hoseok had no shame, was fearless and loved to tease you despite Jimin being just beside him, completely unaware of what was going on (luckily for you).

Hoseok was drawing slow and gentle circles on your skin making you shiver and sank deeper in the couch. It took you all self-control to not look at him (and possibly straddle his legs) and pretend that nothing was going on under the blanket- this was torture. Torture like Hoseok loved it, you did too of course.

Not once Hoseok looked your way, nothing on his face could have betrayed his intentions but you felt it. His fingers were gentle, stroking your skin but of course Hoseok didn’t stop; his hand slid higher and right between your legs, fingers teasing gently – you squeezed your thighs tightly, trapping his hand in between.

You can’t. But shit you wanted it so badly. Hoseok pinched your skin forcing you to open up for him while biting your lips in order to prevent any very unwelcomed sound.

But despite how bothered his simple touches left you, you chose to be the responsible one. You took a deep breath and grabbed Hoseok’s hand, giving it a strong squeeze you looked at him, frowning, conveying all your frustration and a warning.

Hoseok chuckled in response.

The little shit.

Having sex with Hoseok was great. No, fuck it. It was mind-blowing and you were pretty sure nobody else could ever make you feel as much as Hoseok did. It terrified you but you cherished those moments more than you were willing to admit to yourself.

But having sex with him was, funnily enough, not the only thing you enjoyed. Despite your little arrangement, Hoseok gave you more than you expected from a fuck buddy (except he wasn’t your buddy but rather Jimin’s). He spent times willingly with you, taking you to cute places and date coffees. He would help you to sneak from your place and drive you to places you wouldn’t have visited on your own. Hoseok was spontaneous and you loved it a lot about him.

But the thing you loved the most about what Hoseok gave you, was the hours you would spend laying lazily in bed talking. It was something you expected (if not required) from a boyfriend - it was intimate. But Hoseok gave you those moments anyway.

Just like tonight. You told Jimin you would spend the weekend with Mina, girls’ weekend because with college and all the projects you just didn’t have so much time together anymore. A big fat lie and you would have felt bad about it if not for the fact that being with Hoseok made you forget everything about your guilt.

Hoseok sat on the bed with his legs stretched so you could rest your head on his thighs. His hand was running through your hair, so naturally as if he had done it thousands of times (you wished he did).

"I was wondering," You started and turned your face so your cheek was pressed against his thigh. "Did you know it was me in the club? I mean-"

Hoseok didn’t let you finish your mumbling, a smile spread on his face. "I did. I was watching you from afar for a good part of the night." His fingers kept running through your hair - it felt so good you almost purred. "You looked miserable and I wanted to come and talk to you but I was a tiny bit worried you wouldn’t recognize me." Then, he winked at you, "You didn’t recognize me actually."

You jolted from your comfortable spot, eyes widened in surprise. "You’re kidding."

"Am not." Hoseok flicked your forehead and pushed you back. "How could I not recognize Jimin’s little sister? I used to tease you all the time."

At that you smiled. "You were awful."

"It’s because your reactions were always so endearing, I couldn’t help it."

You huffed in fake annoyance but the urge to smile was stronger.

Hoseok’s fingers moved from your hair to your forehead, then your nose (and he did not missed the chance to flick it playfully) and finally your lips. He parted them gently with his thumb – you let him in. He was completely hypnotized and you could only imagine what was going through his mind (something you would probably enjoy if he asked).

"I know what you’re thinking." You commented and bit lightly on Hoseok’s thumb.

Hoseok chuckled. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone is being insatiable."

All you did was plant a kiss on his thigh and feel him tense under your lips.

Too easy.

When you got back from the weekend at Hoseok’s place, you were positive that nothing and nobody could ruin it for you. You felt light, happy, relaxed - everything you had been missing out for the past months.

Jimin was sprawled on the couch with his laptop; his hair was a mess. Clearly someone was ruffling his hair too much in frustration which was such a Jimin’s thing to do. You smiled brightly at the sight, the urge to tease him was getting strong.

"Please tell me you’re not working on a Sunday night." You were half mocking him half scolding him.

Jimin, despite being a flirt and a social butterfly, had a bad tendency at bringing his work at home too. At first, it didn’t bother you as much because he found time to be with you (not like he was forced to) but somehow, for the past weeks, he had been working more and more which wasn’t very healthy in your opinion.

Jimin barely looked at you, whether it was because he was too concentrate or because there was something you couldn’t tell but you sensed something was off.

You hurried to put your bag in your room before going back to him and plopping on the couch beside him. "Hello?"

Jimin was so tempted to ignore you, he wanted to ignore you but the need to make sure he was just imagining things was too strong. He shut his screen and looked at you. "Such a noisy little sister."

"We have that in common then." You nudged him with your feet.

Jimin was fast to grab your feet, smirking wickedly. "Oh don’t start or I might tickle you to death."

"You wouldn’t dare!" You gasped despite knowing that he would do it without hesitation. Luckily for you, Jimin seemed to be in a rather merciful mood. He let go of your feet and grabbed instead a cushion that he pressed against his chest and rested his head on top of it.

"I have a funny story for you."

"Tell me."

"So I have a friend and he has a very cute and smart little sister."

"Are you talking about me?" You laughed and nudged him one more time. Jimin only smiled without trying to deny it which was your first hint that you were in trouble.

"Well you see, his little sister that he loves very very much, started going out a lot which is absolutely fine. Great even. But one day she lied and it bothered him."

You would be lying if you said his words didn’t affect you or made your palm sweaty. There was no way the story wasn’t about you, and the lie it had something to do with your weekend. Shit.

Jimin didn’t continue his story; he sat and scrutinizing your face - you wished he kept talking, it would make you less nervous.

"It’s Hoseok, isn’t it?"

Oh. Well, you were in trouble. Big, big trouble.

You let out a harsh breath; what were you supposed to say?

Jimin ruffled his hair before gently grabbing your calf and giving it a squeeze. "I should have known you wouldn’t listen."

"You aren’t angry?" Was the only question that actually mattered. You could deal with Jimin disagreeing with your choice of men or relationship, but you didn’t want him to be angry with you.

"I’m not. I know, shocking." He joked but looked more relaxed. "I can’t say I’m delighted but you’re a big girl and Hoseok is a smart man, I trust him enough not to hurt you."

"He won’t." Not willingly was what you wanted to add.

You

[10:05pm]: You might one to reconsider your friendship with Jimin.

Hobi

[10:07pm]: Ok??? Should I worry?

You

[10:07pm]: He promised not to burry you in our imaginary garden.

Hobi

[10:08pm]: Ok. I’m worried.

Hobi

[10:08pm]: What happened? What did I do?

You

[10:10pm]: Well maybe, Jimin knows about us?

Hobi

[10:11pm]: Oh. I’m moving to Alaska. Just in case, you know.

You

[10:11pm]: Tell me you have a tiny place in your suitcase for me?

Hobi

[10:12pm]: For you, always.

Your phone kept buzzing through your last class to the point that you had to mute it completely for the sake of your sanity. Some were messages from Jimin, some from Hoseok (which now that you thought about it should have worried you that those two decided to message you at the same time) - it didn’t matter you had to concentrate.

"When did you become so popular?" Mina asked you as you put your books back in the bag.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh do you think I didn’t hear your phone?"

She was only messing with you. You knew it but couldn’t stop yourself from wincing anyway. "Sorry about that."

"Oh come on! Don’t make that face! It’s not that bad." She nudged you with her hips to make you feel better. "Now, I’m just curious."

That seemed to do it work - you relaxed at her words and remembered that you were supposed to read the messages.

You could have started with Jimin’s messages, after all he was your brother and it could have been urgent (considering he was trying to get your attention, badly, for the past hour) but you of course chose Hoseok.

But when you opened the conversation, the sight of a very familiar bag was not what you had expected. "Oh my god."

Mina leaned to peak over your shoulder - she frowned and pointed at the picture Hoseok had sent. "That’s your travel bag."

It was. Just under the picture Hoseok had texted you about his plan.

"You need a distraction. So do I. P.S: Jimin almost killed me for that."

You couldn’t help but smile. Hoseok sure knew how to take you off guard.

Driving for hours with Hoseok was nothing like you had imagined. It was fun and relaxed; he would tell you stories about the place, about the road and you would tell him about some of your own experiences. Some other time you would sing together.

You felt happy. Too happy. But you didn’t let this realization bother you; this weekend was about you and your lack, lately, of inspiration. Hoseok thought that the best way to reconcile with your muse would be the nature - he brought you to his family house that stood near a forest and by a lake.

It was hard to believe that such a place existed in real world - for a short moment, as you walked slowly to the house, you felt like you were finally part of one of the fairy tales you used to read when you were little.

"This is beautiful." You thought out loud.

Hoseok didn’t comment; he agreed, obviously, since the wooden house was one of his favorite destination when he needed to get out of town and forget about his troubles. But now, the beauty of this place was nothing compared to what he felt by just watching you from aside. You looked happy; your face lightened, eyes shining brightly and with curiosity. You were being you, the girl he used to know and not the sad and frustrated girl he had met. This thought warmed his heart.

"You are." Hoseok whispered to himself.

"I knew I would find you here." Hoseok plopped on the ground beside you.

You only smiled warmly and kept drawing. You had found the perfect spot for drawing and apparently your muse agreed. Ever since you had spotted the lovely, old willow by the lake, you knew it was the right place and you had to get there as soon as possible.

Maybe too fast. "I’m sorry." You averted, quite unwillingly, your eyes from your sketchbook to look at Hoseok. You had left him do all the work while you went straight to the lake. A tiny part of you felt bad about it but one glance at him and he put you at ease.

Hoseok was smiling brightly. "Not a big deal." He gently took your hand only to interlace his fingers with yours. So intimate, so lovely, you were ready to melt on the spot. And so did your heart.

"I know about your struggles. You told me you couldn’t draw no matter how hard you tried, remember?" He looked at both of your hands, squeezing your fingers while watching them, contemplative.

Odd.

"This place, in my opinion, has some healing effect on people. I hoped it would help you." He glanced at your sketchbook and his smile only widened. "Apparently it did."

Knowing that Hoseok brought you here for the sole purpose of helping you to get back on good terms with your muse completely undid you. You wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to kiss him and all at the same time - Hoseok had this effect on you. He made you feel, so many things at once.

Unable to stop yourself, you put down your sketchbook and instead slowly reached for Hoseok. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you straddled his laps. Nor could you resist the urge to peck his lips - so you did. You pecked his lips. Once, twice. This simple gesture made both of you smile.

"Thank you." You said from the bottom of your heart. And not only for bringing you to this place. No, you wanted to thank him for making you forget of your failures, of your heartbreak.

Sadly for you and despite all Hoseok’s efforts, there was one heartbreak you couldn’t avoid.

Because now that you were in his arms, you couldn’t deny any longer how you felt, what you felt. Hoseok was no longer your crush. No.

You loved him.

And admitting it hurt.

But you wouldn’t let the pain ruin this magical moment that Hoseok had offered you. So instead of dwelling on your feelings, you chose to forget all about it and enjoy everything you could get with him. One last time.

You had been ignoring Hoseok.

It wasn’t your initial intention. Hell he gave you absolutely no reason to ignore but you just couldn’t face him after the marvelous weekend in his company. Not when your heart was squeezing and twisting in pain every time he looked at you with this bright smile, every time he touched you, kissed you. It drove you crazy.

You knew it would happen. Jimin knew it too. So when you got safely home and faced him, you couldn’t stop your tears. Jimin had only hugged you and kissed your temples.

"I don’t know whether I should be happy that you finally agreed to meet with me or be angry." Hoseok admitted as you took place across from him.

After one long and miserable week, you finally asked Hoseok to meet at a café. Maybe choosing a public place was your way to make sure you wouldn’t break down and just go back on your words - now that you were seeing him (he looked exhausted judging by the dark circles under his eyes) again, you knew it was the right choice.

"I-m"

"Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s not why I came." Hoseok cut you. He was angry and rightfully so but it only made things more difficult for you. "Why did you avoid me?"

You took a deep breath. "I was scared."

Hoseok blinked, confused. "Of what?" He pointed at himself, "Me?"

"No!" You hurried to answer almost jolting from your chair. "God no."

You hated yourself for sounding so weak and indecisive but confessing how you truly felt didn’t come out as naturally as you thought it would.

"I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ignore you but at the moment it seemed like the best option. I needed time for myself and space to think."

Hoseok considered your words. He had felt confused, angry, heartbroken but now that he heard your voice, he felt just extremely tired. "Why?"

"Because nothing had changed, Hobi." And because I love you. "You’re still you. The handsome man and I’m still this foolish little girl who’s completely infatuated with you. It was stupid of me seeking you to distract me when really all it did was to make me fall for you. Hard." Admitting your feelings to yourself was one thing, admitting it to Hoseok was another and much harder, and yet, it was also a relief.

"What you did for me for the past months, I’m so thankful. You made me feel like nobody else ever did. Hell, I didn’t think I could feel anything like that at all. I wanted to believe this deal between us would be enough for me." You stopped to inhale sharply, "I really wanted it to be enough."

"It was a mistake, Hoseok. But you know what?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "I don’t regret it."

"I love you. But for my own safety, I need us to stop before I get hurt."

When at two in the morning you heard Hoseok’s voice, your first thought was that you had finally lost your mind. There was no other explanation, right?

You didn’t.

As you got closer to your door, the voice that you thought belonged to Hoseok was getting clearer and louder. It wasn’t your imagination, Hoseok was really here talking with a very sleepy and clearly upset Jimin.

"Hoseok, it’s two in the freaking morning and I’m that close to kicking your ass." Jimin tried to sound threatening but the tired yawn that escaped his lips ruined it for him. He cursed under his breath and couldn’t stop himself before glancing nervously at your slightly opened door.

Did he know?

You kept yourself hidden in the darkness of your room but you listened, heart roaring in your ears, mind going crazy. Why was Hoseok here? In the middle of the night?

"I let her down." Were Hoseok’s first words.

Jimin cocked a brow. "No. She left you."

Hoseok ruffled his hair. "No. I didn’t mean break up." He groaned in despair. Maybe drinking before barging at his friend’s place was a very, very bad idea but he couldn’t wait. He had to let it out even if it was only to Jimin.

"I let her leave." It pained him to say it. "God, this is hard."

"Hoseok." Jimin inched forward. "Were you drinking?"

"What?" Hoseok asked confused. "No. I mean yes, but that’s not the point."

"Man-"

"No. Listen." Hoseok cut him before he could lose it. "You don’t understand. Jimin, I was so shaken with her confession, I couldn’t believe it."

Jimin halted and stared back, face completely blank, contemplating whether his friend was plain dumb or was just too drunk. "The hell? Come on, Hoseok. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice!"

Hoseok laughed humorlessly. "Well shit, Jimin, no I didn’t. Would I have known, I wouldn’t have let her pretend."

Now that took you both by surprise. You clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent any unwelcome sound to leave your lips. This discussion was slowly driving you mad.

"You wouldn’t?"

"I wanted her ever since I saw her in that blue dress." Hoseok admitted and despite his drunken state and all the anxiety, he smiled at the memory. "Don’t hit me please."

Jimin kept his mouth shut but only because he was thinking about you in your room. He knew you were awake. While Hoseok was too busy pouring out his heart, Jimin had heard your tiny, barely audible gasp. Good. At least, and he hoped, it would lead to both of you stopping being stupid and annoying.

"You guys are so annoying." Jimin finally said while rubbing his temples. It was two in the damn morning for god’s sake and he wasn’t even drunk to deal with those feelings. "And I hate you both."

Hoseok tilted his head then glanced nervously at the door to your room. "You’re not hitting me?"

"Don’t tempt me." Jimin warned him. "Though I wouldn’t be sure if I’d be hitting you because I saw Y/N crying or because you dared to wake me up."

"So." Jimin, once sure, was free of Hoseok’s love confession, came to your room, leaning against your door with crossed arms. "Are you going to pretend you didn’t hear his confession or?"

You pretended not hearing him, blanket tightly wrapped around you, you simply refused to face your brother. You were embarrassed and confused, and felt warm at the same time. Damn Hoseok and his words. All your efforts to not think about Hoseok were ruined.

Jimin shook his head. Yes, he definitely hated the two of you. "Maybe I was wrong." That got your attention. "Maybe, Hoseok is your prince."

"Oh shut up." You let out against your better judgement.

Despite Hoseok’s confession, for once in your life you didn’t act upon your feelings. No, you chose to wait. Not because you were scared of facing the truth (ok, maybe a little bit), but you needed time. Time to concentrate on what truly mattered on the moment which happened to be the deadline for your project.

Most of people around you, including your brother, your family and obviously Hoseok, believed that the project was only about college. Which wasn’t quite the truth. No. A part of the project was obviously meant for college but what you hid from your close one was that a little art gallery wanted to exhibit your work once you were ready.

"When I think you can’t get any more amazing, you prove me wrong, girl." Mina commented, excited as she bounced at you, not caring for the people around you. "Those paintings are excellent. I mean, I’ve seen some of them before but the additional one? They’re mind-blowing."

You hugged her back, tightly, thankful for your friend’s presence.

"I know I’m not supposed to pry but, is he coming?"

You bit on your lips, hesitating. "I don’t know." You were scared to think about it. "I hope so."

But your worries vanished as fast as they came - Hoseok stepped inside the exhibit along with Jimin, looking like a damn model. Of course he would look so good. Obviously, you weren’t the only one who noticed his presence (or maybe you were just too aware because you cared).

Hoseok, despite spotting you right away, didn’t come to you right away. No, his attention was completely captured by the first paintings and you couldn’t blame him. He, out of all people in this room, would recognize and appreciate most your work. Not only because it was your work, but because he would recognize and understand. And he did.

He took his time and you followed his steps, walking behind him without a word. You smiled at people from time to time, but your attention stayed on him and on his face, wanting to not miss any of his reaction, of his emotions.

"I guess I was right." Hoseok stopped at the last painting. It was the lake and the old willow and stars in the dark sky. He turned to look at you, eyes shining brightly. "It helped you. Healed you."

"It did." You admitted and took one more step towards him.

There was so much you wished you could say. So much you wanted to show him. But now that you stood before him, every words, every needs just vanished except one: the need to kiss him.

Hoseok watched you carefully, scrutinizing your face. "You were awake." It almost sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. "Of course you did."

"I did."

"Will you listen to my confession again, then?" Hoseok inhaled sharply as by the end of his question, you had grabbed his hand and thus taking him quite off guard. His eyes averted from your pretty face to your interlaced fingers. God, this touch - he had missed it.

"Well," A wicked smile spread on your lips as you took a final step towards him. You were close, almost feeling his body against yours. "Tell me more about me and blue dress." And as you kissed his jaw, you added, "And what you wanted to do to me from day one."

#bts #hoseok #bts smut #bts fanfic #hoseok fic #j-hope #bts fic #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #make it right

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ichibanerd · 4 years

Text

How to be a Healthier INTP, by an INTP

Create a system and build your day around it. And no, I’m not talking about a schedule because we know we suck at following them. For instance, I bet you forget to drink water if you are not reminded in a way or another. I make sure to drink a glass of water every three hours. “Oh, but wouldn’t that make things harder?” Not at all! I wake up at 6, drink a glass of water. Then again at 9. Then at 12 when I have lunch. And then at 3pm and so on. We’re always looking at the time. Might as well put that to good use. Also! Try to pick three things you want to do the next day before you go to bed. And then switch doing them throughout your day. If I choose to study, update my blog and work out, I might study a little, then go and work out. And then Update. Then back to studying.

Reward yourself. Between those 3 things sneak in some fun. We’re too impatient to reward ourselves at the end of the day. Start small!

Sleep early and wake up early. Sleep is so important! The better you sleep the easier it will be for you do grasp a hold of your inferior functions. By default we are not very aware of our surroundings. Getting enough sleep will help you keep your mind sharp. If your sleep schedule is disastrous, start slowly. Let’s say you sleep at 3 am. Try going bed one hour earlier than that for a week. And then always reduce the time by an hour week by week. “But I won’t fall sleep even if I lay down.” That’s alright. Try to do things that relax you before bed. Listen to podcasts, play a game on you phone for a bit, read a book. Anything that you find relaxing.

Use your bed only to sleep and bang. (At least try to reduce the time you lay in your bed.) Seriously, if you’re not going to bed for any of those reasons, don’t go at all.

Never go to bed if you’re hungry. It’ll just make you feel uncomfortable and you’ll have a harder time going to sleep.

Work out!! This is so important. It’ll help you feel more present in the moment. Teaches you how to be okay with being uncomfortable, creates discipline (which we INxPs really lack) and it’s good for your health. Also it’ll make you feel more confident with yourself. Start with working out 2 minutes a day. Jumping rope is a good idea as well! Don’t worry to much. You’ll see that soon your time will get longer.

Try grasping information randomly about the subject you’re studying at least a few days before your exam. We grasp information easier when it’s thrown at us randomly but that in our logic makes a lot of sense. I really don’t know how to explain this that well. But let’s say that you’re learning a foreign language. It’s probably easier for you to learn words at random periods of time, rather than when the teacher makes a list of them and gives it to you expecting you to master them for the upcoming exam. You’ll learn them anyway, I’m sure, but you’ll probably forget them once the exam is over if they didn’t make a logical sense in your brain.

If you don’t know what you want, then know what you don’t want. A lot of people take the route that will take them to their goal. But what if you don’t have one? Then do your best planning at avoiding things that you don’t want happening. I know this seems obvious, but we often fall down a rabbit hole and forget where we are, or who we are.

Take alone time even when you’re not feeling apathetically antisocial. Make it clear to people who know you that from x to y time, you want to relax. Soon you’ll have a better grasp of your tendencies to isolate from the world.

Learn to distinguish your feelings from those of other people. Contrary to popular belief, we’re extremely empathetic thanks to our buddy Fe. And we struggle a lot with emotional outbursts that come from others. If said emotions are too intense, we might get ill even physically. Take deep breaths down to your belly, and use you Ti to logically make sense of the situation. Is there any reason for me to feel sad/angry/hurt/whatever right now? Explain to yourself why you shouldn’t be feeling like that and get the situation back in control.

Don’t let people step on you. Honestly, if someone is taking advantage of your good nature then call them out on it. If they are not willing to talk about it and instead deny the facts, then leave. Do whatever you can to get out of that situation.

You are more important than what other people expect from you. No matter how nice you are, people will always be unhappy. That said, always give people a chance, and if they miss it that’s on them. You can go back to taking care of yourself.

Realize that you can’t help people who are too stubborn and refuse to help themselves. Don’t beat yourselves over it. Give advice and a helping hand, but if you see that they are not taking them, leave them to take responsibility for themselves. It is absolutely not your job to take upon yourself the responsibility of other’s actions, or the lack of them. I know it sounds harsh, but the sooner you realize this, the better; not only for you, but for those who you tried to help as well.

Don’t share your opinions where you know they are not welcome. Sometimes, people will refuse to see the truth, and that’s on them. Do not try to convince them otherwise. Shrug it off and go on with your day. Often times our ideas seem a bit too ‘out there’ to other people. Especially to certain sensory types (looking at you XSFJ), but of course they are not the only ones. You might have a harder time having a deep conversation with them, but don’t let this stop you. If you see that your idea gets ignored, just sit back and watch the world burn. Have some popcorn while you’re at it.

That said! Don’t be afraid to share your ideas and opinions. Never let fear decide for you. If you’re feeling fearful and anxious just ask yourself: What am I afraid of? List your fears, and then conquer them one by one.

Never allow people to use guilt against you. Realize when people are doing this to manipulate you and break free from it. Realize that whatever happened, happened. It’s okay. Learn from it so it won’t repeat itself and then move on. You don’t need to beat yourself over it every day for the rest of your life. Forgive yourself. We’re human. Mistakes is what we learn from.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one. Learn to incorporate your inferior functions in your daily life. Look up videos and information on your type and especially pay attention to unhealthy patterns. See if any of them resonate with you. The first step to getting rid of a problem is by acknowledging it.

Try do get out of your comfort zone sometimes, but don’t go and throw yourself off a cliff. Being out of your comfort zone might be stressful, but it shouldn’t give you a mental breakdown. If you’re feeling that it is too much for you, then retreat (mission failed, we’ll get them next time) but don’t be afraid to try again. However, if it is something that isn’t for you, don’t try to force it upon yourself. Being comfortable is just as important. Try to balance out the two. For example, I am not fond of loud places with a lot of people so going to a pub for me is too much, especially because I’m not interested in whatever is going on there. Going to the gym however is out of my comfort zone, but I enjoy working out, so I’m more willing to try it. After you break your comfort zone enough times it becomes ordinary, and you won’t such a hard time with it anymore.

Keep a journal to sort out your ideas and things you learned. Especially those that you know will help you to develop your personality. You don’t have to write on it every day. I certainly don’t, but when the need arises I know where to turn to.

Take notice of the patterns of your life and see what works and what doesn’t for you.

Use a little bit of that Fe with people you trust. It becomes extremely destructive when we let it sleep and awaken only when our Ti is having a breakdown. Tend to it from time to time. As much as we do not like it, we can’t deny that it is a part of us.

Lastly, go with the flow. Don’t try to control things that are out of your grasp!

That’s it for now. I hope this helps!

#mbti #tips #intp

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candiliam328 · 3 years

Note

Season 1 was SO musically superior! Like imma be honest, there are very few songs I remember or liked from season 2. I think in hell I’ll be in good company, golden brown, and major Tom are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Season 1's soundtrack is iconic. Phantom of the opera? I think we're alone now? The Walker? Shingaling? Kill of the night, hazy shade of winter, happy together, run boy run, picture book, don’t stop me now... they’re all so good! No mistakes were made XD

YES. YES. YES.

ok this is going to be an extremely long answer and...

Necessary disclaimer: these are just all my personal opinions (pls don’t attack me)

Season 1 was a musical masterpiece. The OST and the pop music worked really well together. But I... wasn’t impressed with the music in S2. There’s lots of reasons why.

But what you’re talking about... honestly same. I just looked through a playlist of the pop music in S2 and I didn’t remember most of them? Couldn’t even guess what scenes they might play in? That’s... an immediate failing. If you put a song in a show, it needs to be a deliberate choice and it needs to mean something or else why would you bother including that song?

yike I can literally talk about this for hours (more below the cut)

Music in cinema is really... weird. Even more so when you introduce pop music.

Ok, let’s go from the beginning... a good musical scoring is supposed to reflect what is happening on your screen. It’s meant to support but not overwhelm. A good musical scoring will implicitly tell you more about the story than what you are visually given... but it’s incredibly subtle. You’re not meant to realize that you’re getting some extra info because that would distract you from what’s actually happening on the screen. Some background processing of info, if you get what I mean. (more to come in my OST analysis, should it ever be finished I guess lol)

This isn’t the case with pop music. This can’t be the case with pop music.

Remember, the OST is original composition. Written specifically for this show. Only introduced to you in the context of this show.

Popular music, by definition, exists outside the context of this show.

So there’s a really subtle balance that needs to be kept here when introducing pop music because you risk taking your audience out of the moment and making them think of other memories they already associate with that song.

How do you combat that? Well, diagetic music (music built into the show, like “I Think We’re Alone Now”) tends to be more easily digested and accepted as part of the show material, since the characters are obviously hearing this music as well and interacting/reacting to the music. You have visual confirmation that this music is part of the show as well as auditory stimulation, so brain is less likely to wander off on its own journey.

But the more clever way? Have an incredibly meaningful scene tied with it, something that fits in all the right ways and allows it to work like the score, giving you additional information without you even knowing it. Something that overpowers your brain’s tendency to get distracted by whatever other context you may associate with that pop song. Something that will grab your brain and be like “Sorry, brain. This song is officially a TUA song.”

This obviously works best if you have very little memories associated with the song, so the more obscure the song the better. But if you’re an absolute mad genius with your music and your cinematic timing, you can overpower any association with any song, no matter how popular it is. (... ever wonder why every song in Shrek became an immediate Shrek song? yeah lol)

You also have to recognize that the pop music in TUA or in any other piece of cinema that includes pop music? It does not exist in auditory isolation. There’s a running stream of background music and sounds and noises. Clever sound production will make the jump between music as smooth as possible. Clever scoring will think about how to weave a narrative, while keeping in mind the pop music that will be inserted as well. Make everything as subtle and smooth as possible. Your job is to not take the audience away from the narrative of the screen.

Ok, that was a lot of background info. You may be asking, “LOL BEAN WHAT’S YOUR MAIN POINT?”

Alright, so here it is.

The pop music in season 2 was pretty much doomed to be less effective from the get-go.

The original score of TUA is composed by the lovely Jeff Russo. From my understanding, he knew what pop music was already planned for season 1 before he even got to scoring. This is important. Because he could make choices about the score and the motifs, while keeping the pop music in mind. He could make a more cohesive sound and music experience. And it worked.

There were deliberate choices made with the pop music. They prioritized and made sure you heard them in the right contexts. I will tell you now that there may be some pop music in season 1 that you completely forgot about. That’s OK. You weren’t necessarily supposed to remember them that much. You can’t be expected to pick up on everything. But the ones that played during the most important scenes? “Run Boy Run,” “Don’t Stop Me Now,” “The Walker,” “Never Tear Us Apart”? You know them. They played them longer and they took the time for your ears to appreciate the music and recognize its context in the show. None of this works if your ears and your brain don’t have enough time to process and form the associations of this song with what is happening on the screen. And they resonated with you the most because they reflected what was happening in the show the strongest. These are the important scenes you were supposed to care about and will play in your mind now whenever you hear those songs.

But an even stronger testament to the integrity of pop music in S1: The other songs you forgot about and can’t name off the top of your head? You can listen to them again and maybe even make a good guess at when they were playing in the show. They... fit the show somehow, even if you can’t exactly place it.

And this all makes sense if they chose these songs even before they started filming. Even before they started most of the scoring.

In season 1, choices were made because of the pop music.

... not so much the case for season 2.

I’ve spent less time on the music for season 2 and honestly I don’t plan to spend much more ahaha... But here’s my two cents:

The music in season 2... is incredibly confused. You no longer have this cohesive sound experience that showed up in season 1. The OST is stuck with motifs that were developed with pop music from s1 in mind. Also, Russo played really hard into the fact that Vanya played the violin in season 1 and now there’s no violin at all on-screen, but he’s stuck with an excess amount of violin in the scoring, so there’s already less of a connection there. Not only that, but Russo is no longer the sole score composer, was working on other projects while scoring this one, so there’s less time from him dedicated to make this score work, but also a slightly different sound being introduced from another composer.

Now, add in the messiness of time travel to the 1960′s. The OST is not the 1960's. Not even the new tracks introduced. So the 1960′s sound is... trying to come from the pop music. The pop music that doesn’t blend in with your OST because your OST was developed for a time set in the present.

But wait! Your S1 soundtrack got really popular because of its prime pop music choices... music that fit really well with your scenes. Let’s do that... but even more. Let’s use really popular music !! Backstreet boys, maybe some covers of Billie Eilish, and Adele. Everyone knows these songs !! They’ll see how clever we are and it’ll make them laugh !!

(Notably, this kinda ruins the charm that they were hoping to replicate from S1? Honestly, several times while I was watching S2, I literally shook my head and closed my eyes, thinking.... “of course, they would play this.” Took me completely out of the show. Yeah, it can be really fun, but idk if you are thinking about the people behind cinematic decisions during your first watch of a show, those people probably messed up at their job?)

But wait, I thought you were using your pop music to establish the 1960′s theme? Now some of your music is directly clashing with that and the environmental setting? You’re confused. What are you supposed to be taking away from the pop music now?

And here’s something even more messy: the pop music in S1 was so incredibly important in establishing the musical identity of your characters, since they were played during some of the most defining character moments. Consciously or not, you have some musical expectations already for each of the characters. Not only that, but you’re expecting this pop music to be telling you more things about your characters than what you’re seeing on the screen. What happens when those expectations are not met? There’s some cognitive dissonance. You’re mentally taken out of the show, thinking about other things. Confused about what you’re supposed to take away from this music. Bad. Musical. Decisions.

So... what does that leave you with for the music in season 2?

A mess of 1960′s music and clunky ‘on-the-nose’ music choices, which may or may not clash with the established musical identities of the characters and all clumsily tied together with a struggling OST for the musically confused ears of the audience.

Tldr; Season 1 was a musical masterpiece. The Season 2 music never even had a chance.

#wow this got out of hand lol #it also should be said that the pop music in either season is not objectively better than the other #season 2 has some bops!#its all dependent on the context #anywhos #thank you so much for this ask !!!#🥺💕#sorry it... became a monster lmao #whether this made any sense is actually extremely questionable #tua music #asks #ford-ye-fiji #my ramblings #tua #tua music thoughts #musical beans

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fuckingthefictional · 4 years

Note

sorry to bother but i have a request, could you write a peter parker! x reader, with the reader being the protégé or adopted daughter of the strange doctor? I searched a lot but I didn't find

Must be magic.

Peter Parker x Strange!Reader

Requested: Yes by @celenajulie

A/N: hope you enjoy this! I tried my best- and there will be a part 2 out soon, where Y/N introduces Peter to her dad, stay safe out there! Xx

Y/N never knew her birth parents, she had only been a mere few hours old when she had been left outside of a New York orphanage.

The owners took her in, fed her and let her grow. She was a generally happy baby.

Until one day, a few months later, Y/N took a turn for the worst. She was no longer that happy girl with the gummy smile, she wasn’t herself.

She slept more, she cried more, she vomited more despite eating less and she didn’t interact with the social workers at the house like she used to. She just wasn’t herself.

Soon they found out why. Y/N had a brain tumour, the doctors called it pineoblastoma.

It was rare, it was aggressive and it was killing the young infant- causing her to waste away.

There were several options, the majority of which were expensive and risky. The staff at the orphanage were considering placing Y/N into the care of a hospice.

After all, time was limited and their options were coming to dead ends. What else could they do? They needed a miracle, a doctor something magical if Y/N was to survive and thrive again.

Christine Palmer loved her job, she loved the idea of caring and helping those who needed her support.

It didn’t matter what age, gender, sexuality or race someone was- she tried 110% to help them to the best of her ability.

Some said that she cared too much, Christine opted towards the fact that compassion was key in the medical industry. And anyone who lacked it, wasn’t cut out for this line of work.

Compassion was what lead Christine to Y/N.

God- she could still remember the first time she’d met the tiny girl.

It had been in the early hours of the morning, the rain had been hammering down for hours and all had been relatively quiet in ER.

Christine remembered going to the vending machine in the waiting room on her break, in hopes to get a snack.

What she hadn’t expected was to become involved in a small dispute. There had been a small altercation that she had decided to step in between.

It seemed to of been between one of the ladies at the front desk and a tall, slender woman- who Christine had at first assumed to be a wife or parent of a patient.

It wasn’t until the young woman inquired why the argument had begun that she finally understood and jumped into action.

“It’s one of the children that I care for, Y/N- last month we were here and she was diagnosed with a brain tumour, we’ve been getting treatment but she’s taken a turn for the worse.”

It was almost immediately that Nurse Palmer jumped into action and called for support on her pager.

It took mere seconds for a doctor to come forward with the required equipment and a portable bassinet to wheel the baby away in.

But there was a nagging feeling in the back of Christine's head, she needed to call him. Just to be sure, to get support and a second opinion.

Without a second thought, she picked her phone from her scrub pocket and pressed the dial button, it rang for a second before a voice chimed through the other side.

“Christine it’s two in the morning.”

“You owe me that favour- come to the hospital now, I need support on a patient’s case.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Okay.” She paused, licking her lips. “And Stephen- thank you.”

It had been an ongoing gag between Stephen and Christine that he owed her a favour.

Ever since the incident in med school, Stephen vowed to give his friend one favour- whenever she needed it, whatever it was- he would be there.

That was why he was getting dressed into his scrubs at 2:30 in the morning (when his next shift didn’t start for another day) in order to help Christine with whatever it was she needed.

When Stephen arrived at the hospital he rushed to where Christine said to meet, Paediatric intensive care unit.

He strolled in, finding Christine sat on a chair next to a tiny infant, no less than a few months old, who was covered in fresh wires.

“She has pineoblastoma.” She explained softly, “You’re the only one I know who can operate and get positive results on this sort of thing.”

Stephen nodded, formulating a plan in his head as he read the baby’s case file.

The poor child had been through a lot in her first few months of life it seemed.

And the doctor didn’t know it yet - but he would soon become her proper family, and give her the life she deserved.

It was weird being the daughter of a master of the mystic realm. Like really weird. Nothing was ever ‘normal’ in her life.

Travelling to the grocery store? Her dad would simply use his sling ring.

Wouldn’t get out of bed? The cloak of levitation would drag her out if her dad willed it.

Wanted a slice of pizza? Sure- Wong would just conjure one up.

She lived in the New York Sanctum Sanctorum for crying out loud that didn’t exactly scream normal!

The only thing that may have been normal was her school life, Midtown school of science was perfect for Y/N.

She took after her father on that, she was smart and bright and loved to learn.

In fact, there had been many occasions growing up that she had been caught under the covers, flashlight in hand, reading her dad's old medical school textbooks.

But just because she was bright, didn’t mean that she made friends easily. Being smart often meant she was teased by her peers- it didn’t help that her last name was Strange either.

She had some friends on the debate team (MJ being one of them) and she talked to Peter and Ned too sometimes.

But half the time Y/N avoided it, after all, she’d rather not listen to her long term crush go on and on about how he loved the most popular girl in school.

It was painful- that stuff hurt. And every time she thought she’d taken a step forwards toward him he’d take three more back.

“Miss Strange?”

Y/N focused back in on the whiteboard, in front of which stood the extremely unimpressed bio teacher.

“Pardon?”

“The answer Miss Strange?” The teacher turned around, marker poised ready to write down her answer on the board for the class to see.

Thankfully MJ was up to date and mouthed the question number across the room. Looking down at the sheet in front of her she found the relevant question.

‘Name an example of a gene pool.’

“A population with a known proportion of A, B and O blood groups would be an example of a relevant gene pool.”

The teacher looked unimpressed at the fact that Y/N had been ‘listening’, “That is correct.” He cleared his throat, “Now before this lesson ends, I will be handing out these assignment sheets that are to be used for your upcoming projects- yes, you will be doing them with your lab partner. No-you cannot switch.”

Fuck that meant Peter was going to be Y/N’s partner. Double fuck. That meant spending time alone with him.

While Y/N pondered in her doom, the lunch bell rang and everyone moved around her as they packed up and left the classroom.

“Hey erm Y/N?”

The teenager’s head snapped up, only to come face to face with Peter.

“Peter!” She yelped, “Hi.”

The boy laughed breathily, “Hi, listen since we’re buddy’s on this project i was wondering when you were next free- Y’know to do the project?”

Y/N tucked some stray hairs behind her ears, “Oh I’m free whenever,” she ripped the corner of one of her pages off and scribbled down her number, “This is my number in case you need to call me.”

“Cool,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I should get going- it was nice talking.”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded happily, “I’ll see you later.”

Mere minutes later there was a beep coming from Y/N’s pocket, she fished around in her pocket in an attempt to find her phone.

‘Hey this is peter, are you free to make a start on the project afterschool?’

She typed a quick response back, ‘Sure, where were you thinking?’

‘The library is probably most convenient right?’

‘Okay cool, I’ll see you later.’

By the end of the day, Y/N found herself practically bouncing at the idea of spending time with Peter alone.

She’d managed to snag a table and the required textbooks that they’d need. But minutes turned into hours and there was no sight of the boy that Y/N was falling for.

He’d stood her up.

Or at least that’s what Y/N had initially thought. but as the clock struck half-past five, she was aware that it was time she made her way home.

Despite his no show, the bright girl was almost entirely finished with the first half of the project.

She was in the process of exiting the library’s doors when she heard the familiar laugh paired with a high pitched giggle.

“Seriously though- Thanks for helping me with Chem.” The female voice countered, “I’d be lost without you.”

Y/N was flat backed to the cool, red bricks that made up the library building. Listening in to what was being said.

“No problem Liz,” Peter laughed nervously, Y/N could almost imagine the awkward neck rub that he did whenever he laughed like that, “I really enjoyed it- I-I’m glad I could help.”

So it was Liz that Peter stood her up with. Ouch- that stung.

The sorcerer's daughter felt tears drip down her cheeks, she sniffled quietly and kicked off the wall brushing past Peter and Liz briskly.

But all she could hear was Peter’s voice calling behind her. Shouting desperately for her to stop and let him explain.

But she did what she knew best, she went home to her family.

The next few days fell victim to the onslaught of messages that Peter sent to Y/N via text.

Even the sounds of her phone buzzing were beginning to set Y/N on edge. Especially since she knew that the notification coming through would be from Peter, begging to let him ‘explain.’

But once more in true Strange fashion, Y/N worked and worked and worked. Until the bio project was finished- almost four weeks in advance.

The way she saw it was that If the work had been completed, then there was no real to hang out with Peter ever again.

He, however, didn’t seem to have the same idea. As 3 weeks later on Monday, Peter had resorted to cornering the girl in the school's supply closet.

He didn’t want to do it, but Y/N gave him no choice. Peter had to explain himself.

“Peter- what the hell?” Y/N yelped, she was beyond pissed at this point.

“You haven’t been returning my texts and calls,” he shrugged, “I need to explain myself.”

“Like hell you do.” She spat, “Look it doesn’t matter, I’ve finished the damn project- we don’t need to see each other again.”

Peter looked shocked and there was hurt in his eyes, “Y/N...”

“What do you want me to say, Peter? That I’m not hurt?” She pursed her lips to stop the tears from leaking, “You left me for hours in the library all while you were having fun with Liz- how is that fair?”

“Please don’t cry,” He whispered, pulling her into his body in an embrace, “I can’t stand it when you cry.”

“You left me alone Peter!” She fought against his embrace, “Like everyone in my life!”

Peter held Y/N against him, rubbing her back and shushing her. Trying anything to bring her calm.

“I got nervous.”

Y/N lifted her head, “What?”

“I got nervous- I’ve- I’ve liked you for forever y’know. I was outside the library for 10 minutes willing myself to go in.” He laughed softly, “But every time I saw you sat there- I just froze.”

The young girl looked up in shock, “But-But Liz?”

“I was about to get reprimanded for loitering, she got me out of the situation. I was going to call you but my phone died.”

Y/N didn’t realise how close together they were until their foreheads touched and their noses bumped.

It felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. It was ironic really because when they finally met in a kiss it felt like all time had stopped.

She could feel every touch on her cheeks, his hair and how it ran through her fingers, how minty he smelt. Everything stood still and for a few moments, you had everything you’d ever wanted in the palm of your hand.

What Y/N had failed to notice was the glowing golden portal that had appeared in the supply closet- even worse the thoroughly unimpressed man standing through it.

“Y/N Strange you are so dead!”

“Shit!”

#mcu #marvel #stephen strange #doctor strange #strange!daughter #strange!reader #peterparkerxreader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peterparker #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tomholland #tom holland #benedict cumberbatch #spiderman #request

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gingerwritess · 4 years

Note

Ok so first of all just read your latest installment of predating idiots and OMG IM IN LOVE, as always when I read your fics!😍 you were asking for ideas and my brain spit out a random piece of crap, feel free to hate it.... maybe Loki/Laing has another patient, that requires a LOT of magic to heal, and he uses so much effort in that his illusion starts to fade and reader sees his scars again and patches him up I guess? Angsty, soft, want to trust each other but afraid? Feel free to hate it😂

GASP i love it !!! thank you for sending this in! (combined with a request for “fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade” from @grufflepuff !)

part 15 FINALLY of predating idiots, featuring much idiocy, lots of cluelessness, and slow progression towards understanding

warning: includes mentions of Loki’s past abuse, descriptions of injuries, blood

— — — —

Robert Laing, as you are slowly finding out, has gathered quite the reputation among Stark employees.

Scattered whispers of saving a life, curing a disease, even reattaching limbs float among the break rooms and bathroom sinks, following you everywhere you try to escape.

Whether any of that is true or just a rumour started by the “doctor” himself, you don’t care.

Loki is…confusing. Not someone you should be worrying about when rebuilding your life is looking up, your professional life seems to be doing well, and someone even left a gift card for the bakery you frequent on your desk.

You’re guessing Marcus, one of your guards. The one who holds the doors for you—“not because you can’t,” he’d assured you, “just because I can.”

Your romantic life can’t possibly be on the rise, too, when everything else is going so well, right??

The rumours about you have started circulating, too.

Popular opinion decided that you and Dr. Laing never broke up in the first place, so you find yourself back in that fake little relationship—without having talked to the other member in nearly a month.

That does make it easier, though.

Acting is much simpler done solo.

Until, of course, someone comes up and asks you how skydiving over Paris was last weekend and you realise that oh yeah, this fake-relationship has to go two ways.

One of these days, one of you will screw this up.

You just weren’t ready for it to be today, and you always figured it’d be you who screws it up.

—

“I’ve made a mistake.”

You’ve heard that before—and in that case, you were the mistake he was referring to.

“I don’t care,” you reply, not bothering to look up from your laptop.

“Please.”

Figures that he chooses now to come taunt you.

“I’m sick of you, Loki, I’m not joking. Leave.”

All you hear in response is a heavy thud.

“Get out,” you repeat, slamming your hands on the desk as you stand. “I swear to god, I don’t want to hear—oh, my god.”

Fallen to his hands and knees, Loki’s covered in blood.

“What the hell—”

It’s not Loki, but it’s not Laing, either.

You slam the door shut and drop to your knees by his side. “What happened to you?”

“Messed up,” he grunts, eyes squeezed shut. “Can’t go to anyone else.”

Yeah, clearly; he’s half-and-half, right now, if anyone else saw him, there’s no denying who he is. Dark eyebrows furrow in pain over Loki’s blue-green eyes, but his hair is as short as Laing’s—though still as dark as Loki’s.

If he weren’t bleeding through his lab coat, you’d surely make fun of him for it…and desperately ignore how short, curly hair really suits him.

“How do you—uh, what do you want me to do?”

He winces, smashing a fist against the floor with a grunt of pain. “I need a cloth,” he says hoarsely. “Extra shirt, towel, something. Stop the blood.”

Nodding quickly, you hurry to the nearest bathroom and grab a handful of paper towels—they’ll have to do.

For a split-second you pause at the door. Déja vu sends your mind reeling—you’ve been in this situation before.

Loki has crawled to you before, bruised and bloodied, and here he is again.

“If you’re looking for gratitude, mortal, look elsewhere.”

You hear a grating cough from behind the door and steel yourself.

Compassion doesn’t come with gratitude.

You’ve already almost killed him twice now; the least you could do is not make it thrice.

“I need you to sit in a chair,” you say when you slip back through the door, shutting it behind you. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Setting the paper towels on the desk, you crouch beside his slumped form and sling his arm over your shoulders, heaving him as best you can into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

His weight falls limp onto your support—like a dead weight. Slumped and defeated.

The bleeding is coming from his back, no doubt from the cuts you saw all those days ago.

“Loki?”

Another grunt.

“I’m going to help you.” You crouch in front of him to meet his pained gaze. “But. You cannot threaten me, wipe my memory, kill me, or anything else to undermine my help after this.”

Slumped forward and gripping his knees to his chest, his eyes remain fixed on yours, silent.

“Is that clear?” Placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I don’t trust you, I need to hear you say it.”

He grits his teeth, but croaks out a quiet “I understand” all the same.

“Great,” you smile dryly. “I’m gonna have to touch you, too, I hope that’s okay.”

All you get is a quick nod.

“Can you take your shirt off?”

Coat caked with blood, you take it from him and gingerly dump it in the trash before helping him carefully peel the soaked button-up from his torso.

“No questions,” he chokes, immediately going back to hugging his knees to his chest.

You can’t bring yourself to respond.

This is worse than you could’ve imagined.

“What happened?”

Ignoring his request completely, you quickly whet some of the paper towels and set to work wiping the blood off any unopened patches of skin, as few as there are.

His whole body jerks with each touch, every gentle press on a cut, and he ignores your question just the same.

“Loki,” you say again. “Just tell me what happened this time.”

Something awful, clearly, but surely not as bad as whatever made these scars in the first place. Blood trickles from each of the countless reopened wounds, and he just sits there, silently shaking as if the pain he must be feeling actually feels like nothing at all.

Your heart pounds, and you fear you can’t be soft enough for how badly he’s broken.

“Please, tell me something.”

“I made a mistake.” His voice cracks and wavers, like it might die altogether. “As usual.”

“Did you…blow your cover?”

“Nearly.”

“What happened?”

You know there’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer of your desk, so you hurry to retrieve it when the blood flow slows, and Loki quietly answers.

“I tried to take another patient. Shrapnel lodged behind the ear, nothing I can’t handle. But people were watching, I–I had too many illusions, I couldn’t—”

“Loki,” you interrupt with a wince, the couple bandages from the kit in hand. “Get rid of all the illusions you’re using.”

“What?”

“I, uh, don’t know how your illusions work.” You tap the back of his head. “But your hair is still short, and that means you’ve still got one on. We should be treating you, just you. No illusions, then maybe you can actually heal.”

You hold your breath—he’ll either do it, or that’ll be the straw to break the camel’s back…

“No questions,” comes the quiet reply.

“No promises.”

He’s silent as the last bits of his energy wash over him.

“Loki.”

“I said no questions.”

Black and blue and purple and yellowed, he’s pale, bruised and lashed to pieces, slouched in front of your desk with his head on his knees, his spine protruding much too prominently from his skeletal frame.

Minutes from death, manifested in a human form.

“Oh, my god,” is all you can manage. You can’t wrap the bandages fast enough, shaking hands holding gauze to the cuts and wrapping the bandages tight around his chest and stomach. “Oh, my god.”

Securing the last bandage, you stumble away from him, still staring in horror at the barely alive form struggling to breathe.

“Don’t look,” he rasps.

You don’t want to, in all honesty, but you round his chair and crouch in front of him, cautiously laying a hand on his arm. He flinches as expected, but slowly lifts his head to look at you.

This isn’t a god.

“Oh, my god.”

“Stop,” he hisses, shoving your hand off his arm. “Stop pitying me, stop, stop it—”

“Shut up,” you order, still gaping at the state of his face, and surprisingly, he does.

Bloody, dotted wounds line his dry, cracked lips, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, lined with yellowed flesh that seems as if it’s been blistered from too much heat. You stare, shamelessly.

“Are you quite done—”

“No.”

Stuck in a horrified trance, you lift a hand towards his face and carefully, gently trace your fingertips along the wounds lining his mouth.

Those ones are peculiar. Small and precise, matched perfectly along the upper lip and under the lower.

Your mind jumps to the worst and you try not to entertain the possibility of needles, but Loki gives a grim laugh.

“Had to silence the silvertongue somehow.”

Your stomach churns just at the thought.

“Who did this to you?”

“That’s not of any importance.”

“This isn’t okay,” you say, a finger moving helplessly to trace down his nose, bruised and looking as though it’s been broken a couple times. “Oh, my god, Loki, you have to tell someone.”

He shakes his head, that same grim smile on his grotesque face. “People only listen to what they want to hear.”

“I–I think they’ll want to hear about this!” You gesture incredulously at, well, all of him. “Obviously someone was using you, tell Thor.”

“No. They wanted an origin story, so I gave them one.”

“But it’s a lie,” you plead, pulling yourself to unsteady feet.

“God of lies.” He points a bony finger at his chest.

Caught up in the shock of his horribly beaten state, you don’t catch the confession.

“Well, y-you need help,” you decide, voice shaky. Your hand ghosts along his shoulder, bringing a wince to the god when you reach his bruised neck. “Can I take you to a hospital?”

“Absolutely not.” Closing his eyes, he takes a couple deep, steadying breaths and the wounds start to fade, some stitching themselves shut. “Please, move your hand.”

You do, quickly pulling your hand back from his neck.

“At least tell me what’s going on.”

“I messed up,” he slowly replies, still focused with eyes closed. “Bit off more than I could stomach.”

“Learning your limits is good,” you offer quietly.

He gives a dry, breathy laugh, hands starting to shake as his skin returns to a normal, healthy colour. “I’m the only one keeping myself alive, at the moment,” he explains. “Between trying to heal, keeping up a facade, and now trying to treat your wounded kind, I’m losing strength.”

You hesitate, unsure as to why he would be admitting that to you.

“Losing the double was a relief.” He’s still talking, eyes shut and a trembling hand brushing over the the needlepoint wounds lining his mouth. “I couldn’t have kept it up much longer anyways.”

“Can’t you talk to Thor?”

“No, I—”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t go back to Asgard.”

“But Thor will understand,” you press again, meeting his gaze when he finally opens his eyes. “He’s your brother, all you have to do is explain what happened to you…don’t laugh.”

Loki just keeps laughing, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. Cold and humourless, but now falsely stronger.

“He’s not my brother.”

“What do you mean?” You laugh, too, just once and puzzled. “Of course he’s your brother, he talks about you all the time and calls you his brother—”

“I am not of the house of Odin,” Loki whispers, and a sick smile works it’s way onto his face. “If you knew what I am, you would have killed me when I asked you to.”

You steel yourself, gaze hardening against his own.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not doing this again.”

His eyebrow lifts—you glare back, no backing down this time.

“Doing…what, exactly?”

“Anything that has to do with you,” you snap.

It’s just more illusions, you know, but he gets so cocky and mean and cold when the facade is up. Always after you finish patching him up and send him back on his way.

The god smiles.

“I’m sick of you taking advantage of me,” you quickly blurt before he can say anything. “A–and I don’t get why you won’t just help yourself by talking to someone.”

“No one wants to hear my story,” he says simply. “Trust me.”

“You’re wrong.”

One of the bandages slips out of place, the end of it falling onto his thigh.

With a sigh, you trudge behind him again, grab the bandage, and start winding it around him, sure to make it more secure this time. “Kindness isn’t some myth,” you huff, tugging tighter than may be necessary. “Some people actually care about others and actually want to help other people on their journeys, but the universe hates you, hm?”

Loki doesn’t respond anything more than a grunt when you yank the bandage tight against one of the cuts.

“I get it though.” The bandage secure, your hands come to a stop just below his neck, staring at one of the scars streaking along his shoulder blade. “It’s a lot easier to feel sorry for yourself than to ask for help.”

“Don’t belittle me.”

You try not to roll your eyes. All that, and that’s how he interprets it.

“Well. If you ever get around to swallowing your pride, just know that there’s people willing to help you.”

Your gaze drops from the scar to his shoulder blade, half covered with a bandage but still adding a lovely dip to the planes of his battered back.

Without thinking, you touch him one more time.

“People like you?” He asks sharply, tensing under your touch.

Your fingers trail ever so softly, barely there to begin with, along the edge of his shoulder blade.

“Yeah.”

― ― ― ―

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geniusgub · 4 years

Text

north//chapter five

new chapter time!! let me know if you want to be added onto the taglist. enjoy and don’t forget to leave your feedback!

also this chapter is dedicated to @babybobbybones because Ruby is always so supportive of my writing and they are always willing to give me honest opinions on my writing and my moodboards so thank u sm!!!!! love u fishy!! dis is for u!

genre: fluff

pairing: season nine spencer x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 5.6k

AMELIA

I fall onto the floor of my studio, leaning my head against the wall and staring up at the easel, a half-painted canvas propped up on it. I scrunch up my nose, tilting my head back and forth to try and find the beauty in the ugly flowers I’ve just painted. I sit up on my knees and reach my brush forward, adding just a few more strokes to the canvas, but my brush happens to be too saturated with water and the paint just drips down to the bottom of the canvas, ruining the entire painting. Whatever, I didn’t like it anyway.

I throw my brush into the water and sit back down against the wall, letting my eyes wander out the window to my left. My eyes dart between the window and the canvas and I wonder whether I should start over on a new canvas or throw in the towel for the day. Before I can either stand to get my keys and leave or stand to retrieve a new canvas, my phone starts ringing beside me. The name Mike flashes across my screen, so I lunge to answer.

"Hi, there!” I quip, and before Mike can even speak, I hear squeaks and screams of children in the background. The sound makes me grin.

"Hey, Lia. How's it going over in Virginia?" He nearly has to shout over the kids around him.

"It's-" my eyes wander back out the window and to the Starbucks across the street. A couple walks out the door just at that moment, clutching cups of steaming liquid and giggling with each other. My smile only grows and my mind wanders off to Spencer and what he might be doing right now while I’m trying to work, "it's pretty amazing, actually. I'm, um, yeah, it's great, Mike,"

"That's,” he pauses, “great, but there’s something else in your voice. What's happening in Virginia? Anything I need to know about?" Mike's voice is teasing, as he always is.

"Maybe," I respond in the same mischievous tone he gives me, my cheeks turning pink. I don’t give Mike another chance to question what is going so well in Virginia, and I just keep talking about the guy that has been on my mind every second since I first laid my eyes on him. "I've, um, I met a guy and I really like him and-"

"Whoa, whoa, you've got a boyfriend? Have we entered a parallel universe? Is this even you on the phone? Whoever is talking to me on the phone- who are you and what have you done with Amelia Stark?”

"I know, I know," I giggle, and I start to kick my feet like an excited child. "I met him at this cafe, and I swear, Mike, you'd love him. He's insanely smart and he's so sweet and he's such a gentleman. And get this, if you're not convinced then this will convince you- he’s an FBI agent."

"Amelia Stark. You're dating an FBI agent?"

"More specifically, he works for the BAU," Again, I let out a dramatic sigh and fall onto my back on the floor, letting myself be pulled into another lovesick daydream. I let my mind wander off to Spencer’s smile and his laugh and his warm touch and how utterly beautiful he makes me feel whenever we are together. "I just- I know I don't really date but-"

"Telling me you don't date is the understatement of the century. You’re not a commitment girl, and you’re a one night stand girl. You've never answered my calls and told me that things in Virginia are amazing and great and you've definitely never told me that you have a boyfriend, much less a boyfriend that works for the BAU,"

"There's just something about him! He's so different from any guy I've ever met before. I never wanted him to just be a one night stand or some guy that I hang out with for a few weeks and then forget about. Spencer is just amazing- he's so gentle with me, and he indulges in the things I like instead of always forcing the things he likes on me, and he always makes an effort to see me even though he's insanely busy,"

"Wow," Mike scoffs out a laugh. "I don't even know what to say. I'm glad you found someone who you like this much. I'm not even gonna bring up the capital L word because I know you're scared of it, but I have a nasty feeling that you might be bringing up the scary L word soon. And I'm even more glad that you've found an FBI agent with a gun who can protect you,"

"Oh my gosh," I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "I've never seen his gun, actually,"

"Good. You tell him to keep his gun away from you for quite a while, especially since you’re telling me he won’t be one of your one night stands. Both of his guns, if you know what I mean,"

My jaw nearly hits the floor at Mike’s remark, and before I can even respond, he bursts into a fit of laughter. "I- oh my god, you did not just say that,”

He chokes on his laughs as he keeps talking. "I'm only messing with you, but not really. Form emotional connections before you jump into bed. That’s what I did with Wendy and look at how long we’ve been together,”

I wrack my brain for any kind of number, but I come up empty. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Too long,” he deadpans.

“Hey! I hope Wendy isn’t home right now because she would have your head on a stake if she heard you say that,”

“She’s at work right now but she left me alone with all the little monsters. Listen, just make sure you use-"

"A condom! I got it, Mikey. I’m a responsible adult, contrary to popular belief. Can we stop talking about this? Let me talk to the kids! I’ll tell them to stop screaming,” I sit up again and my grimace from the slightly NSFW conversation turns into a wide smile, the giddiness bubbling in my stomach.

"Hey, kiddos! Gather around! Your favorite grown-up person is on the phone!" Mike shouts over the hoard of children in his house, and their shouts get closer and closer to his phone until their voices are blaring through the speaker of my phone.

"Amelia! Amelia! Amelia!"

"Hi, my loves!" I exclaim, "how's everything with Mike and Wendy?"

"Come home, Lia! We miss you!" Reese cries out, stumbling over her words in a way that makes my heart swell.

"You didn't come home for Christmas and we missed you so much!" Tyler squeaky voice adds.

"I know, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to come home for Christmas, and I missed you guys so much too. But I’m sure Mike and Wendy made Christmas really special for everyone, didn’t they? I'm gonna try to come home soon but I can't promise anything. I have lots of pictures of you all and I think about you every day. I'll draw and I'll paint lots of new things and I'll send them home to you. Does that sound good?" They all shout confirmations back at me, and I manage to pick out a few requests for things like dogs and cats and flowers, and that request makes me remember the failed painting right in front of me. "Great. I'm sitting in my studio right now so I'll get working on those. If y’all have any more requests then tell Mike and he’ll tell me. I love you all, okay? I miss you guys so much,"

The kids all shout goodbyes at me before there's rustling on the other line. "Alright, it's just me now," Mike says.

"I actually plan on sending you guys art, partly because I want to and partly as an apology for not coming home for the holidays. Let me know if you need anything new for the walls, whether it’s at home or at the police station. Need a new piece for your office, Sheriff?" I tease, pushing myself off the floor for the first time in almost two hours, grabbing a stack of new canvases.

"We could always use more of your artwork, sweetheart, you know that. Call more, okay? I know it's hard, but we clearly all love hearing from you. And I wanna hear more about this profiling boyfriend of yours. Maybe I'll look up his file in the FBI database,"

"You don't have access to that database, you’re not a federal agent. Just google his name. I gotta get started on these paintings. I’ll call soon.”

“Wait! I only know his first name! What’s his-”

“Oops, that sucks. Tough luck. Gotta go,” I finally get the chance to throw his teasing right back in his face, a grin coming to my face as he groans dramatically. “Love you, Mikey!”

"Love you, kid. Stay safe,"

"You too. Don't get shot,"

"I won't."

///

SPENCER

///

My fingers drum against the book on my lap as I listen to dial tones over and over, waiting anxiously for an answer. Maybe today is a bad day and we don’t get to talk today, and that’s okay. There’s always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. But I was just hoping for a nice conversation today, and every time another dial tone rings in my ear, it’s like another stab to the chest.

“Spencer?”

I perk up at the answer, grinning and setting my book onto the coffee table in front of me."Hi, Mom,"

"Spencer, I've been waiting for you to call me for weeks! You can’t ignore me for that long! You can’t leave your poor, old mother in the wind like that!”

I chuckle at her, happy that today seems to be a good day and she’s even capable of joking around. "Sorry, Mom. I've been really busy with work lately, but I wasn’t ignoring you. How was Christmas? I'm sorry I couldn't make it out,"

"It was good, Spencer. I would've preferred to spend it with you, but I enjoyed it," Mom tells me. "We watched movies and made gingerbread houses and some of the nurses got us gifts,"

"That sounds wonderful,"

"So tell me how you've been, honey. You know I hate talking about me and this dreadful place. I'd much rather hear about you,"

My eyes wander over to the coffee table in front of me, or more specifically the scarf that Amelia had left here when stayed over. It must have slipped off of her head when we were sleeping and fell under the couch, and when she rushed out so I could get going, she didn’t realize she wasn’t wearing it anymore. I hadn't gotten a chance to return it because I got whisked away on a case and I haven't been able to see Amelia yet. I reach for it, feeling the soft silk between my fingers. "Um, it's- huh, it's actually pretty great over here,"

"That's wonderful to hear! What's so great about it?" Mom doesn't get much entertainment in her facility and her main contact comes through me. I'm always open to telling her everything and I try to write her at least one letter every day so she can have something to read if I can’t call her, but I was so hell-bent on keeping Amelia a secret. I thought that maybe if I kept her a secret from everyone, then I'd be taking one more precaution at shielding her from my world, but I know that's useless. It's not worth it to keep Amelia a secret and to lie about the source of my happiness, at least not from my mother.

"Well," I look down at the scarf and picture the way Amelia uses the square of fabric to tie back her unruly curls and the way she always seems to look like an angel, "I've met a girl,"

"I’m sure you meet many girls, Spencer. You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

"Her name is Amelia and she's an artist and I swear, Mom, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. We met at the cafe where I get coffee before work and we got coffee together every day that I was home from a case for two months and we spent Christmas together. I just,” I fully expect my mom to cut me off and start rambling about Amelia and how I should pursue a relationship with her if she is making me this happy, but she doesn’t say anything and it forces me to have to finish a sentence I don’t want to say, “she's the first girl I've liked this much since, you know, since Maeve, and I knew I liked her right away and that’s just- it’s really scary,"

"Spencer, it sounds to me like you might even love her," Mom's voice softens. "I'm not going to try and tell you what you’re feeling, but like I always tell you, a mother knows. I'm happy for you, I really am. You deserve to be happy and have someone in your life to look after you and make sure you're healthy and take care of you. Did you ask her to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, last week. But we've known each other for almost three months and every time I look at her, I just feel so, I don’t really know. Whenever I get to see her, I never want to leave when I have to and-" I lay down on the couch and throw my head onto a pillow, the scarf resting right in front of my face. "Maybe I do love her. That's so scary though. I haven't known her for long at all. Can you fall in love with someone after three months?"

"When you first meet someone, you get a first impression, right? Sometimes you can be put off, or you can be instantly intimated by someone, or be intrigued, and so on. Love is a feeling, right? It’s a feeling in the same way that fear and intrigue are. Who’s to say you can’t feel love when you first meet someone? Who's to say you can't fall in love with someone in that same amount of time that someone can scare you? Love is complex and, yes, it’s scary and you've been scorned by it in the past, but don't let that get in the way of this good thing you've got with this Amelia girl,"

"I've never thought of love like that before."

Mom laughs gently. "Like I said. A mother knows," she pauses. "Oh, Spencer, I've gotta go. The nurses need me."

"That's fine," I breathe out a sigh, pushing myself up to a sitting position and pulling the scarf into my lap again. "Thanks for the talk. It was really helpful. I love you, Mom,"

"I love you too, Spencer," Mom says before hanging up, leaving me alone yet again in my apartment.

I push myself to my feet, leaving the scarf on the coffee table, making my way into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for myself. I lean over the counter and check my watch, counting down the seconds until Amelia is set to show up at my door. And as if the universe is answering my silent prayer, there's a soft knock on the door just a millisecond later. I leave my coffee on the counter and rush to let her in, throwing the door open.

Amelia is standing there, looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a white dress and her black peacoat, camera hanging around her neck and one strap from her backpack draped over her shoulder. She’s beaming at me, almost emitting rays of sunshine from her body, shuffling her way through the door and throwing her arms around my neck in a tight hug. It nearly takes me by surprise, but if I’ve learned anything about Amelia by now, it’s that she’s affectionate and she loves to hug, and I can’t seem to find a single fault in that. I whisper a greeting in her ear, reaching around Amelia’s waist to shut the door, keeping out the cold air that blows inside from the hallway.

"Hi, dove," she chirps, sinking down on her heels when we pull away from the hug.

I cock my head to the side like a puppy, trying to hide my confusion but I’m positive it’s evident on my face. "Dove?"

"It’s just a pet name. Do you not like it? I could call you something else, or I could just stick to your name if that’s-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Amelia unravels her arms from around my neck and shrugs off her backpack, hanging it right beside my jacket, then crouches down to take off her shoes. “I like it, actually.”

“Noted,” Amelia jumps back up to her feet, now noticeably shorter without her heels, and gives me a cheesy smile. She opens her mouth to say something else but her mouth snaps shut when her eyes travel downwards just a bit. “Spencer, you’re still in your work clothes.”

“Oh,” I follow her line of sight and look down at my trousers, button-up, cardigan, and tie, my gun holster on my hip (but my gun is locked away in a hidden place) and my credentials in my pocket, “yeah, sorry about that. After I got home, I was on the phone with my mom for a bit and I just didn’t get a chance to change yet.”

Amelia’s lips settle into a pout as she follows into the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your phone call.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry. Do you want a cup of tea? Anything to drink or eat or-”

“I do but why don’t you go change? I can handle a cup of tea by myself. Put on something other than a dress shirt and a tie. Be comfortable,” she breezes right past me and reaches into the cupboard for a mug, already grabbing the kettle and filling it with water. I just watch her for a moment, slowly unclipping my watch from my wrist and watching the way her white dress slides across her legs with every tiny movement. But she doesn’t turn around again to check on my location and just looks between the box of Earl Grey tea and camomile tea, mulling over which to indulge in tonight. So I leave Amelia to her seemingly challenging decision and hurry off to my bedroom, ridding myself of the work clothes I’ve been wearing for almost thirty hours. I change into plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt, only glancing in the mirror for a split second to check if my hair is an absolute mess before returning to Amelia.

She’s leaning against the counter with her mug in one hand and her camera in the other, and when I re-enter the room, she looks up at me and grins at the sight of my more relaxed state. “You look cozy. Guess I should have worn my pajamas today.”

I go and lean against the counter beside her, picking up my cup of coffee and looking over her shoulder at the pictures she is flipping through on her camera. At first, most of the pictures are of a redhead I’ve never seen before, posed in a park and modeling for the camera. Then the pictures turn to the sights I see every day and I conclude they must be pictures that Amelia took this morning or on her way here. “These are really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Amelia’s cheeks turn pink at the compliment as she tosses the camera aside, clutching her cup of tea instead.

“I’d love to see more of your art sometime. I haven’t seen that much but the things that I have seen, I really loved.”

“Maybe one day, when you’re available, you can come to my studio. It’s just a couple of blocks away. I’d love for you to come and see some of what I do when you’re gone,” her head falls onto my shoulder and she scoots closer to me, her arm slowly moving around my waist, pulling me even closer to her. “It’s what I did all day. But speaking of all day, how was your day? How was the case?”

We move into the living room and get under a blanket as I give Amelia vague details about the case we solved this past week. She sits just as close to me as she was in the kitchen and tucks her feet under my legs to warm herself up, and once I’ve decided I’ve told her enough about the serial killer that we captured last night, she starts telling me about her last few days and how she went out to see a bad movie with her group of friends. She keeps moving closer and closer as the sun gets lower and lower and soon enough, Amelia is laying over my lap and my hands are in her hair, brushing the strands out of her face. I can confidently say that it’s the most relaxed and the most comfortable I’ve been this past week, and maybe even in the last few months. Every time Amelia is around and we get to just sit and talk, it’s a breath of fresh air. I don’t get to do this enough. I look up at the clock after being on the couch for a long time, seeing that it’s almost midnight. Thank god I don’t have to work tomorrow.

“Hey,” Amelia hums and looks up at me, her head in my lap and the blanket wrapped mostly around her, “it’s late. Do you want anything to eat?”

She hums once more, sitting up and keeping the blanket pulled up to her chest, her eyelids fluttering like a child fighting off sleep. “Yeah. I could really go for some ice cream. Do you have any?”

“I do, actually. But just chocolate, I think,” I stand from the couch and hold my hands out to Amelia, lugging her off the couch when she puts her hands in mine. She follows me one more time into the kitchen and pulls out bowls and spoons while I grab the gallon of ice cream from the freezer.

“So,” Amelia draws the word out, bumping her hip with mine when she reaches over me for a bowl, “will you tell me about your BAU team? I know their names, but they’re your best friends and basically your second family so I wanna know about them.”

“Oh, really? What do you wanna know?” She grins as I slide the chocolate syrup over to her and she quickly steals it to drizzle it all over her bowl of ice cream.

“Mm,” she hums, far too concentrated on her ice cream at first to give me a proper answer. But when she finishes with the syrup and hands it back to me, she hastily grabs spoons from the drawer and returns her full attention to the conversation, “just about your history with them. I’m not sure, whatever you wanna tell. Whatever’s important.”

We retake our seats on the couch, both of us now evenly draped in the blanket with our ice cream bowls in our hands. Amelia slings her legs over my lap and scoots as close to me as she can get, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. Despite wearing pajama pants, I can feel Amelia’s thighs, exposed by her dress, pressed against mine and it takes my breath away for a moment. I have to shift my position in the slightest so Amelia isn’t too on top of me, and once I’ve moved and I’m more comfortable, I start to let my mind race over what I could tell her.

“Well, Morgan is one of my best friends and he was one of the first people I met when I started working at the BAU. He’s loud sometimes and a little overwhelming but he’s always there for me. For example, during a case, I got anthrax poisoning and-”

Amelia nearly drops her bowl at this revelation and she reaches for my arm, squeezing tighter than ever before. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear you correctly? Anthrax poisoning? And you’re still alive?” She practically throws her bowl onto the coffee table, quicking whipping around and grabbing my cheeks, pulling my face closer to hers until our noses are touching. “Am I speaking to a robot right now?”

My eyes practically roll into the back of my head. “A robot? Amelia, I can’t even use my DVD player. What makes you think I’m a robot, which is essentially a being made completely of technology?”

Amelia narrows her eyes at me, dragging her thumbs down to my jawline. She looks away for just a moment to eye the DVD player and then returns to me, just as close as she was two seconds ago. “Why do you have that thing if you don’t know how to use it?”

“It was a gift from JJ,” my lips brush against Amelia’s as I speak and even though we’ve kissed a million times by now, the feeling of our lips touching still makes the butterflies in my stomach act up. But her lips taste like chocolate and I can’t help it when I pull her closer and into a kiss. Now, it’s almost like it’s second nature to want to be constantly touching Amelia and kissing Amelia and just being around Amelia all the time.

Amelia abruptly pulls away from our kiss and lets out a loud yawn, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. It’s impossible to hold back a yawn while kissing.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” I wave my hand at her casually, and when she rubs her hands over her eyes and then pushes her hair back, my heart seems to pound just a little bit faster. She’s a little bit bleary as she inhales sharply, falling forward and pressing her temple against my shoulder. “Hey, it’s really late. I can tell you about my coworkers another day. Do you wanna get to sleep?”

“No,” she shakes her head but her body language strongly contrasts her words as she lets herself melt further into my embrace, “I don’t wanna leave you. I missed you a lot today.”

Okay, Spencer. Being bold with Amelia has yet to fail me so why should it now? Just ask her if she wants to spend the night for the first time. It’s with innocent intentions, anyway. No funny business. Just a couple sleeping in the same bed- what’s wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So just ask. Ask! It’s one night and I’ve recently cleaned my bedroom and washed the sheets so everything should be fine for a girl to sleep over. Sleep over? You’re not a ten year old, Spencer. Don’t ask her if she wants to sleep over like you’re a group of girls planning on eating candy and watching movies until three in the morning on the living room floor. Is that what girls do at sleepovers? I don’t even know. Nope, don’t get sidetracked. Just ask.

“Lia?” She hums in response, not even lifting her head from its spot on my shoulder. I’m used to her being boisterous and loud and positive when I’m anxious so I guess I’ll have to muster up enough courage to ask without her encouragement. “It’s really late already and, well, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow but would you wanna stay the night? It’s just- it’s past midnight and, you know, 40% of all fatal car accidents happen at night. 60% of adults have driven while drowsy and 37% of adults have fallen asleep at the wheel. I-“ I let out a breath, my chest deflating at her overall silence. “You don’t have to stay over and I could drive you home so you don’t have to drive but, you know, I would just like to know you’re safe.”

I pause once more and wait for some confirmation or rejection from Amelia, but all I’m met with is quiet breaths across my chest. I duck my head down and find Amelia fast asleep on my shoulder and one of the straps of her dress falling down her arm from the odd angle she’s laying at. Of course, what else would happen? I go on a nervous rant and Amelia sleeps through it.

“Hey, hey, Amelia?” I card my fingers through her hair and luckily, it’s enough to rouse her from her quick nap, and she lifts her head from my shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about. Do you want to stay the night? I gave you a bunch of statistics on car accidents at night but I’m sure you’ll fall asleep again if I repeat them.”

Amelia lets out a small laugh, pushing herself to a sitting position and rubbing her eyes yet again. “Could you lend me some clothes? Sleeping in a dress is not really my vibe.”

“Sure, I can give you some clothes. But let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again,” I grab onto Amelia’s hands and pull her off the couch, leading my half-asleep girlfriend to my bedroom. She waits patiently as I open my closet and reach for a pair of sweats, handing her sweatpants and a hoodie from Caltech. “Here. I’m gonna go clean up the ice cream while you change.”

“Thank you,” Amelia lays a kiss on my cheek before I can leave, and the tingling on my skin persists even when I get into the living room and clean up our ice cream bowls, putting them into the dishwasher.

I suppose that after tonight, there will be plenty of nights spent together. I won’t lie and say that sleeping in the same bed as Amelia isn’t a bit scary. I don’t know what kind of sleeper I am. Will I steal all the blankets and leave her freezing all night? Will I kick her relentlessly and leave dark bruises all over her pale skin? Will she just plainly hate sleeping with me and thus would begin the end of our relationship?

“Spencer,” Amelia’s voice rips me out of my anxious spiral, and when I turn to look at her, my breath is knocked completely out of my chest. Amelia wearing my clothes is quite a gorgeous sight, even if they’re hanging off her body and pooling around her feet. Her hair is up and her face is washed of any makeup and she just looks wildly beautiful. She pops her head into the kitchen and gives me a tired smile, maybe the millionth of the night. “Do you need help with anything?”

I shove my bowl into the dishwasher and then slam it closed, shaking my head at her. “No, I’m good. Let’s just go to bed.” I shut off the kitchen light and swing my arm around Amelia’s waist, bringing her back towards my bedroom and shutting the door behind us.

I watch with wide eyes and a stupid smile as Amelia crawls onto the bed, but right when she gets onto her knees, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at me. “Is there a side of the bed that you prefer?”

My eyes dart between Amelia and the pillows on the bed. Is there a side I prefer? I wouldn’t know. “I don’t think so. I mean, honestly, I’ve never slept in the same bed as anyone before,”

“Me either,” Amelia pouts, her eyes locked on mine as she debates which side to choose. “Well, we’re technically already on different sides of the bed.” She gestures to her place on the right side and me on the left side. I just shrug in response to her suggestion. It’s not a big deal to me whatsoever, just as long as Amelia is comfortable and she doesn’t wind up hating me after tonight.

Amelia, completely exhausted, flops onto her stomach on top of the duvet, wiggling up just a little bit further until she can rest her head on the pillow. I shut off the lights and then crawl into the bed, on my predetermined side, tugging the duvet from under Amelia so she can join me under it. And as soon as she’s under the duvet, Amelia rolls over and curls up beside me, laying her head on my chest and slinging her arm over my stomach. “Thank you for letting me stay over,” she whispers, craning her head to kiss my cheek. “Goodnight.”

The feeling of laying in a bed with another person, especially a person who I feel so strongly about, is such a warm feeling. I’m sure I’ll literally be warm soon, what with Amelia on top of me and a duvet covering my legs. But my chest feels tight and I can’t wipe off the smile on my face, no matter how hard I try. I just beam, knowing that Amelia will be beside me all night.

So I sink further into the duvet and tug Amelia as close as I possibly can, receiving a small snicker from her. But she doesn’t seem to mind the closeness since she curls into me even more and then presses another kiss to the center of my chest. Maybe she can feel my pounding heart under her lips. Her affection comforts me enough to allow me to close my eyes and force out a goodnight, drifting off to sleep with Amelia in my arms.

TAGLIST

@babybobbybones @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @penelopecult @nastyhar @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @matthewgublerswife

(I’m pretty sure I messed up this taglist so if you weren’t tagged and you should be OR you’re tagged and you don’t want to be, then lmk and I’ll make the appropriate change)

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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anexplanationofunfortunateevents · 4 years

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this is an alarmist post

This post might sound alarmist because I don’t know the respectable, non-alarmist way to put this. He’s going full final-days-in-the-Fuhrerbunker. I want to be alarmist. We need to be alarmed.

On one level, I’m pretty sure you know this. You can probably see a vague reference to “what happened in Portland” and know exactly what the writer means. Unidentified little green men in military-style fatigues deployed against peaceful protesters. Protesters kidnapped off the streets in “proactive arrests.” ordered by someone illegally acting as the head of DHS. Journalists attacked. Middle-aged women beaten and tear-gassed. The mayor of Portland tear-gassed. It was, of course, worse than it looked, and only the most telegenic of concurrent power grabs.

But it’s really hard to stay at the appropriate level of alarm for even three hours – and we need to stay there for the next three months. It’s exhausting no matter what, and nearly all of our current information environment makes it even more difficult than it needs to be.

Most of what the mainstream media has to say about the election isn’t reporting so much as it is fanfiction. Characters with familiar names and recognizable faces feature in an alternative universe where “normal” political forces (which were defunct ten years ago) apply. Sniping about “messaging,” pathologically boring lectures about “enthusiasm” – it would be annoying anti-Democratic concern-trolling in a world where a free and fair election could be taken for granted. In the real world of powerful and accelerating anti-democratic threats, it is both dangerous and bizarre, like dumping a fifth of vodka into a Super Soaker and trying to use it to put out a brush fire.

The mainstream conversation is so disorienting that it’s understandable why there are also a fair amount of influential progressive commentators who have burrowed themselves into the reverse narrative. It doesn’t matter what we do, Trump is just going to steal the election anyway; it doesn’t matter if he loses, he’s going to refuse to leave anyway. A subset of these fatalists swing all the way around to conventional Pundit Brain: Trump has already blown up all the rules of democratic politics because Democrats aren’t using the One Weird Trick that would make them good at democratic politics!*

Before jumping down the rabbit hole of whether these narratives are true, it’s important to emphasize that they are not constructive. We are in a crisis. In a crisis, you need to help people understand that something abnormal is happening AND that there is something they can do to make things better. Communicating to people that things are fine, as the mainstream horserace normal politics model does, isn’t helpful, because it helps people rationalize the false but comforting belief that everything is fine. Communicating to people that things are hopeless, as the doom-mongering counternarrative does, is even less helpful. If you’re acting normal about something abnormal, there’s at least the off-chance you’ll get lucky and unwittingly bluff your way through the short- and medium-term. But if you’re constantly getting the message that you’re screwed no matter what, it’s human nature to either a) go into denial and double down on an unproductive response, which is irrational but understandable or b) get cynical and give up, which is an entirely rational response to a situation that actually is hopeless.

Trump is already trying to steal the 2020 election. He has help from the henchmen he has put in charge of important federal agencies and from the white-shoe lifers in the Republican legal establishment. Anything you can imagine he might do, you should assume he has at least considered it. He will consider things that would never even occur to you.

He hasn’t succeeded yet. He can be stopped with overwhelming turnout. We know this because of the 2018 midterms. Autocrats who are successfully smothering a democracy do not allow the opposition party to win partial or full control in regional governments, take over half the federal legislature, and gain a foothold in the presidential line of succession. That’s not how autocracy works. If you come across a commentator who is under the impression that a burgeoning dictatorship just gives away that kind of power for the lulz, consider taking that person’s opinions on the subject with a grain of salt.

Thanks to the 2018 midterms, House Democrats have been able to foil some of Trump’s schemes and warn the public about others. Even with Individual 1’s desperate thrashing at the intelligence agencies, we’re getting a lot more specific information about Russian attacks on the election than we were this time in 2016 from the Obama administration.

One more important thing we learned in 2018: just because Trump would do something, doesn’t mean he will. Here’s the Once and Future Speaker a few weeks after reclaiming her title:

At least Trump “didn’t declare the election illegal,” Pelosi said. “We had a plan for that” — though really, she acknowledged, the only workable plan was “to win big. Had it been four or five seats, he would’ve tried to dismantle it.” In his news conference the day after the midterms, Trump spoke respectfully of Pelosi….

The Spectacularly Failed New York Times buried the lead as usual, but there are a few really important points packed in here. Democrats did, in fact, have a plan for that, which you’re going to need to remind yourself if you try to follow political commentary in the next few months. For whatever reason, a surprising number of supposedly anti-Trump writers are eager to undermine Trump’s opposition with false claims that Democrats are bumbling naifs who in 2020 still haven’t realized that Trump might not respect the results of an election.** This demoralizing premise is, as you can tell from the Wayback Machine link, not true, but for some reason it remains a popular lie, so it’s worth debunking.

More importantly, we didn’t know about the plan until afterward because they didn’t need it. Trump has blinked before, so there’s no reason to assume he won’t blink again. We shouldn’t assume he will do the same thing in 2020 that he did in 2018, because it’s a different situation! Just that people who have assumed Donald Trump will act in a completely different way than he has in the past usually end up with egg on their faces.

My two cents – AND THIS IS JUST MY OPINION SO YOU CAN SKIP IT – is that any kind of post-election autocratic power grab would probably need decisive action from Trump within days, maybe even hours, of polls closing. That, in turn, would require Trump to absorb the narcissistic injury of a loss immediately, which he has been psychologically incapable of doing for the first 74 years of his life. Remember, he didn’t have to come to terms with the curb-stomping he received in the midterms right away. At first he could tell himself that Republicans holding onto the Senate (by the skin of their teeth when they should by all rights have swamped it, but whatever) represented a “split decision” and even a moral victory for him, so he could afford to go into, like, con man autopilot mode and try to charm “Nancy.” Everyone else adjusted to the Democratic victory the next day, and the next night, people got into the streets warning him not to try any bullshit. It was only after bigger districts finished counting and mail-in ballots were counted that it sunk in for him how badly he had lost and what the consequences would be. Then he soothed himself by shutting down the government indefinitely, which he seemed to feel was a display of his power – until “Nancy” pantsed and dog-walked him so he had to slink off and pretend it never happened.

If an election which was more or less as legitimate as the 2016 election (questionable but not Belarus) were held today, I think the most likely result would be a scenario a lot like the midterms: East Coast states make it clear which way the wind is blowing to most people, but Trump goes to bed at 3 AM thinking he’s close enough to fight it out in court. Over the next couple of weeks the mail-in ballots get opened, Miami and Philadelphia finish counting, and the real numbers start penetrating even his toxic bubble. Eventually someone reminds him that his armed Secret Service detail can escort him off the premises no matter what he does, so he loses what little nerve he has and skips Biden’s inauguration to go golfing at Mar a Lago. Or maybe Sochi.

But again, that is not a guarantee or even a prediction. The FACT is that anything can happen in the next three months, and Trump and his goons are putting a lot of effort into ensuring that everyone does happen. I spelled out my opinion of what seems most likely at the moment because it can get really easy to dwell on the worst-case scenario, which leads to fatalism and inaction. The least-bad scenario is actually more plausible than it’s been for the last few years, if we motivate ourselves to get it done. We can’t waste all our time and energy thinking about what he’s going to do, because we need to think about what we’re going to do. Voting is the core issue as always, but it helps to be more concrete.

If your state has early in-person voting, and if you can do so safely, vote in-person as soon as you can. Every state’s vote by mail infrastructure was going to be strained this year before these dirtbags decided to sabotage the postal service. If you can cast your vote early, you can help make the lines a little shorter on Election Day while leaving vote by mail resources for people who need them.

If you are a person who needs vote by mail resources for whatever reason, use them! Request your ballot now. Fill it out and return it as soon as you get it. You might not have to mail it back – your county may have drop boxes, or maybe someone can bring it to the local elections office for you. If that’s a safe option for you, please take advantage of it. If it’s not a safe option, mail your ballot back as soon as possible. You’re not helping anyone from the ICU.

If you and the people you live with are relatively low risk, or if you’ve survived COVID and your health care provider thinks you have immunity for the next few months, consider volunteering as a poll worker. Usually a lot of poll workers are retirees, who are by definition in a high-risk group. If enough of them decide to sit this year out – and that’s the smart, responsible choice – then polling places end up closing, which helps Republican voter suppression by making the lines longer. The more volunteers your area has, the more polls they’ll have open, which makes it that much easier to let people vote quickly and at a safe distance from each other.

This last one isn’t directly about voting, but it’s still pretty important: get used to pushing back on bullshit. There already is another effort to drive down turnout by inundating voters with disinformation. Last time we weren’t ready; this time, we have no excuse.

*Avoiding sources because this stuff is toxic. If you think I’m making this up because you haven’t seen it anywhere, good.

**Look, nobody*** is more sympathetic to The Men and their psychological frailties than me, but seriously, guys, some of you need to log the hell off for a few days.

***For certain non-traditional values of “nobody.”

#democracy #2020 election #authoritarianism

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ask-hanako-cast · 4 years

Text

Mitsuba X Kou - Misunderstandings

Summary- Third Wonder Mitsuba still has a lot to learn after being alive for only a short time, so Kou tries to help by explaining things. However, Mitsuba also tries to learn things on his own which can lead to quite a few misunderstandings.

1825 Words, Rated T

Everything was brand new to Mitsuba. Well, not everything. He knew how to walk and run and how to point out someone’s insecurities from miles away like it was a skill infused with the very fabric of his being. He could hum, joke, and knew games like rock, paper, scissors, and tag. Still, even with the knowledge he had, it wasn’t enough to hush him up when curiosity got the better of him.

Kou didn’t know why Mitsuba seemed to like him. This Mitsuba wasn’t his, but the similarities made his heart hurt just like when Mitsuba turned to him a month ago and said, “Bold of you to assume I like you! Maybe it’s just… I feel like I should be here. Things feel better when I’m with you. It’s different from Tsukasa.”

Tsukasa taught him lots, but Kou filled in blanks or corrected what Mitsuba assumed. Today was no different as Kou guided Mitsuba through the halls near the gym, pointing out trophies in the glass case.

“This one is for a sport called soccer. You kick a ball around a field and try to score it in a goal. I used to play it, but I was always benched for kicking the ball in the wrong goal.”

“I see.” Mitsuba was confused; if his looks were anything to go by, but he urged Kou to continue.

“And this one,” Kou explained as he gestured to one of the last sports trophies, “is for tennis. Do you remember what that one is?”

“Hitting a ball with a paddle?”

“Close enough!” Kou grinned. He glanced around the display to decide which to quiz him on next, but when he turned back to his friend Mitsuba’s attention was already taken by something across the hall. He followed Mitsuba’s gaze as he approached the other display a bit of ways from the sports. “Oh, that’s awards for clubs! Sometimes they can win awards too, but mostly just ribbons and certificates for whatever.”

Mitsuba hummed in thought, pressing a clawed hand to the glass as he examined the cabinets contents. Upon gazing over one in particular, Mitsuba’s eyes lit up and he jabbed a nail toward it. “I know what that one is!”

“You do?” Kou asked in surprise as he peeked over Mitsuba’s shoulder.

Mitsuba slid a step to the side, his scarf ends twitching a silent warning to not come too close, lest he become nervous and they move on their own accord. He nodded and fiddled with his sleeves, a blush working on his lips.

“Tsukasa showed me. They were practicing when he took me in there.”

“You went to see the drama club practicing?” That sounded like the most normal thing Tsukasa ever showed him.

“He was originally trying to get me to eat a centipede he found.” That makes more sense. “Then I ran by a room and saw them practicing and Tsukasa stopped. I didn’t know they had a club for that…”

“They have a club for everything,” Kou replied, “did you like it?”

Mitsuba’s blush grew as he glanced away from the award. “Uh, I guess? I think it’s one of those things where… it’d be more fun to do yourself and not… watch it.”

He never pegged Mitsuba to be interested in drama club, but his cuteness would be popular on stage. That is, if he were alive.

Mitsuba let out an awkward chuckle though, in Kou’s opinion, there was nothing to be weird about. They’ve had longer silences. It had to mean Mitsuba was uncomfortable. Kou felt his heart squeeze as he looked at the supernatural.

“Did you want to do drama club things with me?” Kou asked, tilting his head.

Mitsuba’s shoulders jumped and his scarf tails stood on end. “D-D-Do that-“

“I mean, I can’t say I’m any good, but with enough practice-“

“P-Practice?” Mitsuba screeched, face turning bright red.

“With enough practice,” Kou repeated, “I can get better.”

“You can’t be serious…” Mitsuba whispered, not meeting Kou’s eye as he began to mumble, “You are just trying to take advantage of me knowing that I am lost to this. You are probably going to make me do things against my will and-!”

“I wouldn’t do anything you are uncomfortable with,” Kou urged with a sigh. Was he afraid of stage fighting? Kou hadn’t even considered that when Mitsuba told him about seeing the drama club! He wasn’t going to roughhouse with Mitsuba when the mere thought of getting hit makes him cry out. “We will just try it out and see if you like it?”

Kou briefly wondered if he could steer Mitsuba back to his camera through this interest, but everything took time.

Mitsuba bit his lip and clicked his nails along one of the pendants on his scarf; a habit he did when he was assessing options, gambling the best deal.

“T-... Tsukasa said they practice with everyone.” Mitsuba lowered his chin so he could stare at the floor. “I… don’t want either of us practicing with anyone else.”

It might be a good thing Mitsuba isn’t alive to join the real drama club, Kou realised. Because that type of thinking wouldn’t be smiled upon. Either way, he nodded along obediently and gestured over to the library. “We can go find scripts now, if you want.”

“Scripts?” Mitsuba squeaked, face going back to a cherry red as he watched Kou mime out the papers. He let out a laugh. It sounded uncomfortable, uncertain. “Do we… Do we really need them? I think that… for the first one… we can figure it out on our own?”

Kou was slowly getting the feeling he had no clue what Mitsuba was talking about. He prayed Tsukasa didn’t mess with his impressional brain too much and reached out, placing a hand on the supernatural’s shoulder. He leaned down a little, making Mitsuba’s wide pink eyes meet his.

“Mitsuba, what do you find interesting about drama club?”

“Oh.” He didn’t seem prepared, but his fake confidence built up in seconds. “Well, I wouldn’t want to join, like I said, but I… k-kinda want to try what they were doing. Tsukasa said it’s something you do with someone who means a lot to you… and I don’t have that many people I’d want to do it with. J-Just you, I guess…”

Kou’s brain was working overtime to find an answer as the flustered supernatural began to spew out random words. “B-Because, like you said, you have to be pretty bad at it, s-so if you say anything, I’ll tell Nene you drama club like a dog and don’t even taste like lemons!”

“Lemons?” Had Mitsuba accidentally ran into a farmer’s market and decided he wanted to start a stand with Kou? That’s… a little hard to do, but Kou would figure something out. However, he was pretty sure Mitsuba would never want to try that. He’d probably have a heart attack the moment he got dirt under his nail beds or a fly in his hair.

“Tsukasa said it tastes like lemons.”

“You… want to cook with me?”

Mitsuba looked irritated, blush dying away only slightly as he glared up at Kou. “No. I want to drama club with you. Now, stop making me repeat it. It’s embarrassing.”

Kou took a deep breath and sighed. “I think we are having a language barrier- No, a Tsukasa-teaching-weird barrier right now. Can you show me what you mean so I can be sure it’s what I’m thinking?”

“Y-You want me to do it?” Mitsuba shrieked. “That’s… If you are seriously that shy, I can do it. Uh, but can you… come closer?”

Weren’t they already close enough? Kou stepped forward, until their chests were only a small space apart. Usually Mitsuba would be tense and nervous if anyone stood that close to him, despite his words saying the opposite. It wasn’t hard to tell how he truly felt with his scarf ends wriggling behind him. However, Mitsuba’s scarf wasn’t moving to protect him from his fears this time. It hung limp as Mitsuba looked up at him and brushed some of his bangs aside.

“Tilt your head down.” Kou obeyed, tensing when he realised how close Mitsuba was. He could almost feel his breath on his lips. Kou was beginning to have a feeling that Mitsuba never saw a drama club practice to begin with, but he said nothing as Mitsuba glanced away. “Eyes closed.”

Kou closed his eyes and was about to ask Mitsuba if his train of thought was on the right track when he felt something weird on his lips. It wasn’t a bad weird, but it wasn’t something he could explain. He dared to open his eyes only to see Mitsuba’s face way too close that he could figure out the origin of the foreign feeling on his lips. Mitsuba’s clawed hand came to rest near his neck, nails accidentally grazing the skin enough to send goosebumps down Kou’s back.

Mitsuba slowly pulled away, pink eyes fluttering open. They were the same color as his cheeks. He looked like an angel this close. Kou bit his lip and leaned forward instead, but just as his lips brushed Mitsuba’s, he was pushed back.

“I-I said to keep your eyes closed!” Mitsuba whispered, hitting him with his sleeve. His eyes grew glossy and Kou wasn’t sure if it was just a rouse or if he actually felt sad. Kou’s mind quickly supplied an answer to the question he’s been wondering. Mitsuba must have seen a stage kiss and wasn’t told that that wasn’t all a drama club did. Tsukasa must have glazed over so much information, it was a miracle this has been one of the only drastic

Kou nodded his head dumbly. “Sorry, sorry!”

Mitsuba gave him a long glare, then pulled away. “It’s… fine. You weren’t, uh, as bad as you claimed to be.”

Kou scratched the back of his neck. “T-Thank you?”

“But there is one thing that was weird.” Kou felt his palms become sweaty. “You don’t taste like lemons like Tsukasa said.”

“He said I’d taste like lemons?”

“Well, no. He said drama clubs tasted like lemons,” Mitsuba stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “but you are sweeter, I think.”

“You were good too,” Kou said lamely, blushing as he glanced to the ground, “but that is actually called a ‘kiss’. I don’t think they taste like lemons unless someone has one or a candy beforehand, but you were right on the whole ‘it’s for people who are important to you’.”

Mitsuba seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Then… Next time, just to test it, can we try lemon candies? I-I just want to see if ‘kisses’ can be lemony or if Tsukasa was fibbing again.”

Next time? Kou grinned and nodded like a bobble head, fast and sporadically. “Sure!”

“Without a script too?”

“Without a script.”

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #mitsuba sousuke #jshk mitsuba #jshk tsukasa #jshk kou #mitsukou #hanakokun #toliet bound hanako kun

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tswiftdaily · 5 years

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TAYLOR SWIFT: 30 THINGS I LEARNED BEFORE TURNING 30

According to my birth certificate, I turn 30 this year. It's weird because part of me still feels 18 and part of me feels 283, but the actual age I currently am is 29. I've heard people say that your thirties are "the most fun!" So I'll definitely keep you posted on my findings on that when I know. But until then, I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned before reaching 30, because it's 2019 and sharing is caring.

ONE: I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me I look . I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

TWO: Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

THREE: Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching.

FOUR: I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day.

FIVE: Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

SIX: I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. Reading her words feels like hearing a voice of reason amongst all these loud messages out there telling women we’re supposed to defy gravity, time, and everything natural in order to achieve this bizarre goal of everlasting youth that isn’t even remotely required of men.

SEVEN: My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe. My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds. Websites and tabloids have taken it upon themselves to post every home address I’ve ever had online. You get enough stalkers trying to break into your house and you kind of start prepping for bad things. Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

EIGHT: I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

NINE: I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

TEN: I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life: Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce. Getting a garlic crusher is a whole game changer. I also learned how to immediately calculate Celsius to Fahrenheit in my head. (Which is what I’m pretty sure the internet would call a “weird flex.”)

ELEVEN: Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along. This is not an ad. I just really love Command tape.

TWELVE: Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

THIRTEEN: It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience. I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.” It’s something no one would choose for themselves. We speak up because we have to, and out of fear that it could happen to someone else if we don’t.

FOURTEEN: When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say. Sometimes just saying you’re so sorry is all someone wants to hear. It’s okay to not have any helpful advice to give them; you don’t have all the answers. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. Your support is all someone needs when they’re at their lowest point. Even if you can’t really help the situation, it’s nice for them to know that you would if you could.

FIFTEEN: Vitamins make me feel so much better! I take L-theanine, which is a natural supplement to help with stress and anxiety. I also take magnesium for muscle health and energy.

SIXTEEN: Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey.

SEVENTEEN: After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. I now moisturize my face every night and put on body lotion after I shower, not just in the winter, but all year round, because, why can’t I be soft during all the seasons?!

EIGHTEEN: Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. For example, never being popular as a kid was always an insecurity for me. Even as an adult, I still have recurring flashbacks of sitting at lunch tables alone or hiding in a bathroom stall, or trying to make a new friend and being laughed at. In my twenties I found myself surrounded by girls who wanted to be my friend. So I shouted it from the rooftops, posted pictures, and celebrated my newfound acceptance into a sisterhood, without realizing that other people might still feel the way I did when I felt so alone. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

NINETEEN: Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

TWENTY: Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

TWENTY-ONE: Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

TWENTY-TWO: How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

TWENTY-THREE: I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through. The most emotional part of the Reputation Stadium Tour for me was knowing I was looking out at the faces of the people who helped me get back up. I’ll never forget the ones who stuck around.

TWENTY-FOUR: I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. Both of my parents have had cancer, and my mom is now fighting her battle with it again. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

TWENTY-FIVE: I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

TWENTY-SIX: I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. When I’ve gone through dark, low times, I’ve always found a tiny bit of relief and hope in getting a countdown app (they’re free) and adding things I’m looking forward to. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

TWENTY-SEVEN: I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

TWENTY-EIGHT: I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. I took a lot of time educating myself on the political system and the branches of government that are signing off on bills that affect our day-to-day life. I saw so many issues that put our most vulnerable citizens at risk, and felt like I had to speak up to try and help make a change. Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

TWENTY-NINE: I learned that your hair can completely change texture. From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

THIRTY: My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’d lock myself in my room and couldn’t forgive myself, as a five-year-old. I realized that I do the same thing now when I feel I’ve made a mistake, whether it’s self-imposed exile or silencing myself and isolating. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

ELLE

#taylor swift #elle #article

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wadey-wilson · 6 years

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Hey there! What do you think of Homecoming's characterization of Peter compared to the 616 and/or Ultimate? I'm curious what you think because it seems like your a Spidey fan and I've seen mixed reviews on this subject!

okay, that’s gonna be long, so brace yourself. (i just woke up so i’m sorry for typos, alright?)

Peter Parker, Earth-616 vs Peter Parker in Spider-Man: Homecoming, an essay nobody cares about:

- teenager - he is a teenager, looks like one, and acts like one. he’s a fanboy, he eats chips upside down, he jumps on a bed whining about how he’s not a kid (poetic cinema), he loves lego, he loves old alien movies. he doesn’t even know how to spider-man yet. that batman voice to interrogate people because he doesn’t know how to interrogate people? amazing;

- bitten by the spider when he was 15 - yeps;

- brown eyes, brown hair - that’s a small and tirival thing, but nailed it (i checked and the marvel wikia says ‘hazel’ but hazel is just brown for people in love);

- raised by uncle ben and aunt may - although we don’t get the words ‘uncle ben’, we get the general idea of it when peter mentions ‘after everything that’s happened to her’ and when he talks about responsibility in CW;

- midtown high school - peter indeed attends midtown school of science and technology;

- nerdy, loveable dork - he so is. visibly academically gifted, knows answers without even paying attention, studies when he’s in that warehouse, studies when he’s in berlin to fight cap, is visibly fluent in spanish, and he’s just charming;

- flash thompson the bully - check. i saw some whiners complain about how flash isn’t a jacked asshole beating peter up, but like… do you really expect someone like that in a school for geniuses? no. i don’t even expect bullies like in the comics from 60s to be in high school now. ‘bullies’ that i met are the people who are just coolers and more popular than you and make fun of you publicly.

- outcast/loser - check. no friends to speak of except for ned, he’s rather invisible, he’s not the cool kid skater punk that sony tried to present us in the TASM movies;

- suit - now this one is really what people throw tantrums over. earth-616 does present peter parker sewing his own suit, and then making his suits, and then even have the suits made into super high-tech suits in parker industries, but let’s be damn real here - imagine that you’re a 15-year-old boy and have to sew your own suit. would it really look like that?

i’ll have people know that these suits took days and weeks to design and sew by professionals. this suit, however, looks way more realistic when in terms of making by a teenager:

in the ultimate comics, peter’s given his suit by the owner of UCW (that wrestling place), and then MJ was one to sew his suits. i have zero problems with tony stark being the one to give peter a high-tech suit, especially that the kid doesn’t even fully know how to use it. some might argue with me, but imagine you’re tony stark, and there’s this 15yo kid swinging his ass around new york in a onesie and craving to fight baddies - of course you’d give him the best suit you could come up with;

- friendly neighborhood spider-man - friendly neighborhood spider-man should be damn friendly and he is. peter parker is nice to everyone. he’s the spider-man we love in the comics. he helps old ladies, stops small crimes, he probably would be the one to hold someone’s car up when they change wheels. the TASM movies had this problem that their peter parker was a selfish asshole (and like 733456 other problems, but that’s not the topic of this essay), and you don’t see it in MCU’s peter. when everyone is busy fighting, he’s busy saying sorry and greeting a cloak, come on;

- with great power comes great responsibility - this one is also being thrown tantrum over because some people overshadow peter’s sense of responsibility with him wanting to be an avenger. and yeah, he does want to be an avenger. but the sense of responsibility is really there. he didn’t help the old lady to impress tony. he didn’t stop the ‘car thief’ to impress tony. what he did to impress tony was that one thing when he said it was his chance to prove himself and went after the arm dealers, but it started as a choice when he left ned at the party, and turned into choice afterwards, too. when tony took his suit, he easily could have just stand down, go to the homecoming, have the girl of his dreams, and just be normal. but he didn’t. he left the girl on the dance floor before the party even started, he left his group on the academic decathlon to go after the arm dealers, he left his friend and risked his already shredded social status to go see what the hell that explosion was. he didn’t have to go after vulture, but he went after him in a crappy suit, with old web-shooters, and thinking he’ll probably die. more than that, when the plane crashed, he didn’t have to save vulture. he didn’t have to keep on fighting without professional equipment and polished skills. he could’ve ran away. he didn’t.

moreover, he takes responsibility for everything that happens because of him. he saves the kids in the washington monument after they almost die because of the chitauri core he gave ned. he tries to save the people on that ferry boat after he accidentally tore it in two. he saves dalmar after his place is blown up after peter’s brawl with the robbers. go figure.

”when you can do the things that i can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you” = “with great power comes great responsibility”;

- quips and jokes - spider-man is genuinely funny. he’s not a jackass, and he knows when to stop the jokes and get serious. he was one to joke around when fighting the bank robbers, but as soon as he saw the dalmar’s place being destroyed, he hurried to help, ditching the robbers, because human lives are important. because if you can do the things that he can do, and you don’t, and people die, that’s on you. so he left the robbers and run to save lives. beside that, he’s genuinely funny, even unintentionally funny;

- nobody dies on his watch - that speaks for itself: saving the vulture. he doesn’t kill his enemies and doesn’t let them die;

- not giving up - laugh or not but it’s actually listed as one of his superpowers. did he look to you like giving up when he stepped into flames to save the guy who tried to kill him? nah;

- the avenger thing - so, as i mentioned before, people tend to throw hands about how peter’s only motor for what he’s doing is him wanting to be an avenger. and, as i explained, i disagree. but that’s whatever. in the comics, peter refuses to join the avengers because he’s better working solo. but he’s offered that when he’s older. in the MCU he’s a fanboy, he loves the avengers, they’ve been his heroes forever, of course he wants to be one of them when the fate has it that he can be one of them. who wouldn’t? in time, of course, i turns out that maybe he’s better on his own as a friendly neighborhood spidey, so things play out fine;

some more stuff not strictly related to peter parker:

- liz allen and mj - some people (*glares at the ones who haven’t grabbed a comic in their life but act like they’ve eaten all the brains*) think that the only relationships peter’s ever been in are the ones with gwen stacy and mj. little do they know that peter’s first love interests were actually betty brant and liz allen. mj was actually the one to come as the last one in that line, introduced to him by his aunt after years of talking about ‘that cute girl from the neighborhood’ or whatever. so i’m 100% on-board with liz allen. i’m also on-board with mj not being mary jane;

- the lack of harry osborn and gwen stacy - same people also don’t realize that peter parker met harry and gwen in college;

- ned leeds - i don’t even have it in me to care about the people who whine about ned being torn out from miles morales’ comics because i truly don’t care. it’s marvel’s property, they can do whatever they want, and if they want peter parker to have a good friend in the mcu who’s actually a good representation, then they’ll have it, and i’m happy. (peter parker doesn’t have a pal in high school in the comics, but ned serves great as a second opinion and someone to lean on) (speaking of representation, i love all the chubby and color students in the movie, ugh). also ned leeds is an actual marvel character from earth-616, so get over yourselves;

plus comic references: the movie references to ultimate spider-man #42 and the oh so iconic amazing spider-man #33, and i couldn’t be happier.

that’s it, that’s what i think. peter parker from the mcu is the perfect representation of earth-616 peter parker. the changes that mcu did for the movies don’t burn your eyes, they were made to fit the year the action takes place in and to be more realistic - flash thompson, the suit, the fanboy-ing over the avengers. those are good changes. they actually help the movie and keep the story within the marvel cinematic universe without making peter parker look and feel like someone completely out of character.

#peter parker #homecoming #spider-man #i usually rant to beau how much i hate the tasm movies and how horrible they are #so that was a nice change #thanks for that ask tbh

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itsjustinyourwildestdreams · 5 years

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can general public stop hating on taylor swift every single time she is trying to help or make a change or show support or just voice her opinion about things that are important??? can you stop assume it’s a ‘publicity stunt’ or some kind of ‘taking care of her interests and money income only’?? like.. can everyone who is hating on her can understand that her opinion about LGBTQ+ community isn’t ‘popular’?? I mean, she grew up in a conservative state and started in country music so obviously a lot of her fans are conservative, supporting Republicans, straight, white privileged people or people who have been growing up with conservative parents and the conservative way of thinking is the only one they know, SO ACTUALLY, in terms of business and making money, she’s risking a lot by voicing her opinion and by openly talking how bad, sick and hateful are Republicans’ views. How convenient it would be for her to stay silent and make people guess who she supports cause both groups could make assumptions and believe she’s on their side, it would be less risky in terms of marketing. But she fucking decided she doesn’t want to be linked to homophobes and racists because of her silence, so she took a stand, risked of losing conservative fans, and their money, and profits from the merch they buy, she risked that her being political can affect her sales number, SHE DIDN’T FUCKING CARED ABOUT ALL OF THAT MARKETING SIDE OF HER CAREER, SHE ONLY CARED ABOUT HELPING HUMAN BEINGS, ABOUT SHOWING THEM LOVE AND SUPPORT, ABOUT SHOWING THE MINORITY, YES, THE MINORITY OF HER FANS THAT SHE ACCEPTS THEM, SHE LOVES THEM AND SHE CARES ABOUT THEM. She wanted to make a change in this world, and her intentions are clear and pure, and it’s so obvious when you logically think about it, without jumping on ‘hating on taylor swift is cool’ bandwagon but some of you have to try to destroy it cause somehow, STILL whatever she says it’s not right and whatever she does it’s not enough. I feel like the ones who hate on her now didn’t learn their lesson during the reputation era and it pisses me off. USE YOUR BRAIN. IT IS EASY.

#SORRY THIS IS LONG #BUT I AM SO MAD

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kaleid-tay-scope · 5 years

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Taylor Swift - Elle

30 Things I Learned Before Turning 30

By Taylor Swift Mar 6, 2019

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me I look . I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching.

I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day.

Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. Reading her words feels like hearing a voice of reason amongst all these loud messages out there telling women we’re supposed to defy gravity, time, and everything natural in order to achieve this bizarre goal of everlasting youth that isn’t even remotely required of men.

Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe. My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds. Websites and tabloids have taken it upon themselves to post every home address I’ve ever had online. You get enough stalkers trying to break into your house and you kind of start prepping for bad things. Every day I try to remind myself of the good in the world, the love I’ve witnessed and the faith I have in humanity. We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears.

I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life:Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce. Getting a garlic crusher is a whole game changer. I also learned how to immediately calculate Celsius to Fahrenheit in my head. (Which is what I’m pretty sure the internet would call a “weird flex.”)

I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.”

Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along. This is not an ad. I just really love Command tape.

Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience. I believe victims because I know firsthand about the shame and stigma that comes with raising your hand and saying “This happened to me.” It’s something no one would choose for themselves. We speak up because we have to, and out of fear that it could happen to someone else if we don’t.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco.

When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say.Sometimes just saying you’re so sorry is all someone wants to hear. It’s okay to not have any helpful advice to give them; you don’t have all the answers. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. Your support is all someone needs when they’re at their lowest point. Even if you can’t really help the situation, it’s nice for them to know that you would if you could.

Vitamins make me feel so much better! I take L-theanine, which is a natural supplement to help with stress and anxiety. I also take magnesium for muscle health and energy.

Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey.

After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. I now moisturize my face every night and put on body lotion after I shower, not just in the winter, but all year round, because, why can’t I be soft during all the seasons?!

Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. For example, never being popular as a kid was always an insecurity for me. Even as an adult, I still have recurring flashbacks of sitting at lunch tables alone or hiding in a bathroom stall, or trying to make a new friend and being laughed at. In my twenties I found myself surrounded by girls who wanted to be my friend. So I shouted it from the rooftops, posted pictures, and celebrated my newfound acceptance into a sisterhood, without realizing that other people might still feel the way I did when I felt so alone. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through. The most emotional part of the Reputation Stadium Tour for me was knowing I was looking out at the faces of the people who helped me get back up. I’ll never forget the ones who stuck around.

I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. Both of my parents have had cancer, and my mom is now fighting her battle with it again. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool.

I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. When I’ve gone through dark, low times, I’ve always found a tiny bit of relief and hope in getting a countdown app (they’re free) and adding things I’m looking forward to. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

Photographed by Ben Hassett; Styled by Paul Cavaco

I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. I took a lot of time educating myself on the political system and the branches of government that are signing off on bills that affect our day-to-day life. I saw so many issues that put our most vulnerable citizens at risk, and felt like I had to speak up to try and help make a change. Only as someone approaching 30 did I feel informed enough to speak about it to my 114 million followers. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

I learned that your hair can completely change texture. From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’d lock myself in my room and couldn’t forgive myself, as a five-year-old. I realized that I do the same thing now when I feel I’ve made a mistake, whether it’s self-imposed exile or silencing myself and isolating. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

Hair by Serge Normant for Serge Normant Hair Care; makeup by Francelle for Lovecraft Beauty; manicure by Denise Bourne for Deborah Lippmann; produced by Kristen Terry at Rosco Production.

#taylor swift elle #Taylor Swift

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initiala · 6 years

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Hook Echo (5/9)

Summary: They’re in a rut. That’s what Deputy Emma Swan tells herself over and over again as her boyfriend, Killian Jones, grows more and more distant, and more frustrated, due to complications with his dissertation research on tornado formation. But storm season’s more than halfway over and this dry spell is doing nothing to make things easier for him–or their relationship. Will everything blow over, or is there a greater storm on the horizon?

Rating: E

Content warnings: Graphic depictions of injury resulting from natural disasters, minor character death

Hmmm... things are starting to change up top. I wonder what that means?Thanks again to @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, and @idoltina for all they did on this.

This is also on AO3 or FF.Net if that’s how you wanna roll.

Killian was gone by the time she woke up. And really, "woke up" was a stretch — she hadn't slept well at all the night before; in fact, Emma had still been awake when Killian came home from the bar. She'd lain there for hours, stewing, not sure who she was more upset with, but when he came to bed she immediately rolled over and clung to him. "Emma? You should be sleeping, love."

She shook her head. Killian sounded exhausted, but there was worry in his voice when he asked, "Darling, what happened? You left earlier than I thought you might, you didn't say goodbye. I didn't even see you or the girls leave. You're not really angry with me for taking your underwear, are you?"

Emma half rolled her eyes, nudging him to put his arm around her, which he obliged. He stroked her hair and it felt so nice she almost started crying all over again. "It's not the underwear," she said quietly. "Did - did Liam say anything to you?"

There had always been this unspoken agreement between her and Liam that they not mention their disagreements with each other to Killian, but she was starting to think it was a mistake. It almost felt like tattling, and she really didn't want to make him feel like he had to choose between her and his brother, but even after almost three years, it felt like Liam was still trying to put a wedge between them. And for what, because Killian was almost done with his studies? That was the same excuse he'd been using for years, and still Killian hadn't finished. It wasn't his fault, and it certainly wasn't hers.

She'd only forbade the night chases last spring, after all. And after what had happened, Liam should be thanking her for that, not scolding her.

Killian's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed his ministrations. "He mentioned something about abusing my break privileges, but that was about it. Why, what did he say to you?"

It took all of her willpower not to get up and drive over to Liam's place in that moment and rip him a new asshole the way he deserved, once and for all. It fucking figured that he would lay all the blame on her, take everything out on her, and let his brother off scot-free. Killian seemed to notice something was up because he sounded much more alert when he said, "Emma, if Liam spoke out of turn to you, I need you to tell me."

She sighed, her anger deflating just as quickly as it had built up. "It's nothing he hasn't said before," she mumbled. "Though he was a little more… crass about it this time."

He was quiet for so long she thought he'd fallen asleep. She jumped when he spoke again. "I'll talk with him about it. You'd think he'd bloody give up and accept things by now, but no, that requires someone without a pig's brain in their head."

Emma chuckled weakly, relaxing more into his embrace. She appreciated that he wasn't in denial or tried to downplay the fact that Liam and her didn't really get along. He'd have to be blind, or an idiot, to miss the fact, but she at least attempted to play nice and be polite while they were around his brother. It just bothered her that with how much she knew Killian talked about her, Liam had only found more fault with their relationship; surely he didn't just focus on the bad things, right? There were plenty of good things to talk about too.

Right?

She shook her head of those bad thoughts. "I'm a big girl, Killian; I can handle Liam."

"Aye, love, I know. Still doesn't mean I can't tell him to stuff his opinions back up his arse where they came from."

They'd fallen asleep not long after that, Emma a little more uneasily than Killian, but he could sleep through a, well, through a tornado.

(Which she knew for a fact that he could, and he'd been steaming mad about that the next morning.)

Still, she must have dropped into a deep sleep at some point because she never felt him get up or heard him pack his overnight bag and leave. After she ate, she decided to spend the day getting some prep work done on the painting they'd been putting off doing; she threw on some working clothes and spent the morning stripping the wallpaper in the hallways. The house was always weirdly quiet when Killian was gone so Emma kept the radio on, blaring a classic rock station and singing along to keep herself from going back to what had happened last night with Liam.

God, she really wanted to just punch him in the nose.

The front door opened and startled her so much that she almost fell off the stepladder. "Jesus, Mom, ever heard of knocking?" Emma said, climbing down and turning down the volume a little.

"I have, though you still haven't learned to keep your music at appropriate levels," Ingrid said, though she smiled. "I knocked three times."

Emma winced. They really needed to get the doorbell fixed - whatever the previous owner had done before moving out hadn't lasted through the winter. "Yeah, well, you did always say I could do whatever I wanted once I had my own place."

Ingrid laughed. "That is true. Anyway, I stopped over with a couple of things, mind if I put them in the kitchen?" Emma waved her on, then followed to wash the dust off her hands. "I didn't know you and Killian were doing remodeling already."

"Kind of a spur of the moment decision," Emma said over the water. "He's over in Norman and I don't have anything to do until my shift starts at six. Figured I'd get a jump on some things."

"Killian went to Norman?"

She dried her hands slowly. "Yeah," Emma said, avoiding the look Ingrid gave her. "There's some thesis stuff going on."

"Bad thesis stuff, I take it."

"That's what we're going to find out."

"Mm."

Emma never did like it much when Ingrid made that noise. It meant she knew too much, or had guessed at whatever it was Emma was hiding from her, like the fact that her high school boyfriend was actually in his twenties or how he was having her hold on to his pot for him. She watched as Ingrid pulled a pint out of the freezer and sat down with it and a couple of spoons at the table. "I was going to leave this for you to try at your leisure, but I think you need someone to talk to. Ice cream helps."

"Mom…"

"Sit. I'm experimenting with some flavors for June and I need a second opinion."

Ingrid's latest kick was trying to out-do Ben & Jerry's by taking what she called 'sub-par ingredients' and replacing them with some more local flavor. She kept it to one new flavor a month and there were running polls and commentaries on her social media pages about which ones might become permanent additions to the roster. It was a very popular scheme and Emma hadn't seen Any Given Sundae this booming in years. "You know if it's not rocky road I'm not really interested," she said, sitting across from her.

Ingrid rolled her eyes as she took the top off the container. Whatever the flavor was, it was blue. "I can't believe I raised you to be such an ice cream snob."

"You bought damaged goods, you knew this going in."

The look Ingrid gave her was hard to read, but there was never any pity or sympathy in these kinds of expressions. Just some scrutiny and a little bit of reproof. Emma tried not to squirm under her gaze. "Something's going on with you and Killian," Ingrid said finally. "You haven't been this hard on yourself or this distant in years."

She gestured with her spoon for Emma to take the first bite. More to keep herself from answering the thinly veiled accusation, Emma did - blue raspberry and there were… Swedish Fish? She winced, swallowing. "Ok, I get it, you're going for a more ocean-related Phish Food, but no Swedish Fish. Gummy stuff only tastes good on froyo."

"We do not mention the accursed in this house, Emma."

"It's my house, Mom. I can talk about froyo all I want. Froyo froyo froyo."

Ingrid rolled her eyes again and took her own spoonful. Then she made a face too. "Alright, I see your point. Maybe I'll have something for July… No, I was working on that Independence Day themed neapolitan, so maybe it'll be for August, a last hurrah of summer. Hang on, I have more. In the meantime, talk."

Emma blinked at the speed at which her mother changed both marketing tactics and conversation topics. "About what?"

"Whatever it is that has you so… you."

"Mom."

"Emma."

She sighed in disgust, stabbing at the ice cream for more of the blue raspberry - gummy fish aside, her mom did make a mean blue raspberry - and shoving it in her mouth. "It's not me and Killian," she said, ignoring Ingrid's look about talking with her mouth full. "It's me and Liam."

Ingrid's brows furrowed for a moment, then understanding dawned. She opened the new pint and Emma was relieved to see chocolate in this one. "He's still giving you a hard time."

"I don't think I'd call it that anymore. He's just... " Emma sighed. "He's just mean about it now. And I don't get it. He doesn't give Killian that hard of a time - I asked. He only lays into me about it, like I'm the only one with any say in this relationship. We bought a house, for Christ's sake. You don't buy a house with someone you're only screwing around with."

There were brownie bits and fudge swirls in this one and Emma nodded in appreciation before taking another spoonful. Ingrid looked pensive. "Have either of you tried talking with Liam about his behavior?" she asked. Emma started to respond, but Ingrid held up her hand. "I don't mean taking him to task for it, I mean asking him about the root cause of all of this. It's gone on too long for it to be jealousy or something petty."

Jealous? Liam? Of them? Emma almost laughed at the idea, and would have if she wasn't so pissed at him. "We probably have," she said. "I don't remember, but Liam doesn't listen to me. If Killian has, it hasn't gotten anywhere. He said he'd talk to him again after what happened last night."

"What happened last night?"

Her face warmed. Fumbling for the words, Emma tried to explain what had happened at the bar without going into explicit detail, though she had zero doubts that Ingrid was well aware of what she meant by 'visiting Killian' and the context in which Liam's current anger happened in. The look she gave her confirmed that. "He was on break," Emma said, the defense feeling weak.

"Well, I'd still call it impolite at best," Ingrid said, making Emma wince, "but I'm not going to sit here and lecture you. It's already done and you're a grown woman. So I can see where Liam might be a bit irritated for last night, but it's hardly the worst thing to ever happen."

Particularly when it wasn't even the first time she and Killian had had sex at the bar, but Emma wasn't about to mention that. Alluding to it at all was humiliating enough. "It just isn't fair that he went after me and then Killian gets off scot-free," she grumbled, digging into the ice cream. "It takes two to tango."

"I don't need to remind you that life isn't fair," Ingrid said. "But I can maybe see where Liam's a little blind when it comes to his brother. We tend to develop blind spots about our children."

Emma thought back to when Killian had first told her about losing his parents, how Liam had practically raised him after their father died. She supposed Ingrid had a point, but it didn't mean Liam had to be an asshole about it. She said so, and Ingrid smiled. "I didn't say it was right," she said. "But sometimes it helps to see where someone is coming from."

Just then, Emma's phone rang, and it gave her an excellent excuse to avoid figuring out how to continue that particular conversation with Ingrid. It wasn't a number she recognized, though it was local, so she answered with her professional voice in case it was one of those stupid robo calls. "Deputy Swan speaking."

"Ah, Emma. This is Nemo Bhavsar, Killian's advisor."

Her eyebrows went up. "Dr. Bhavsar, hi." She shared a confused glance with her mother. She knew Killian had listed her as one of his emergency contacts, but he'd only left a couple of hours ago. "Is everything okay? I thought Killian was meeting with you today."

"He did, we just concluded the meeting."

"That was short."

He laughed. "Indeed, but for good reason. There's a strong front coming off the Rockies and I managed to get some funding to allow Killian to take a team out to Wyoming, possibly into the Dakotas if he follows it. We've had luck there in the past and I think this is just what he needs to finish everything."

The sinking feeling of fear for him was buoyed by the small hope that he might be done soon, but Emma was still confused. "I'm glad to hear that, but I'm a little confused on why you're calling me about it?"

Dr. Bhavsar exhaled - not quite a sigh, but close. "Killian gets this look in his eye when he's focused, one where he quite forgets the proper courses of action outside of accomplishing his task. I thought it might be better to notify you now, rather than receive a phone call when he's three states away."

She frowned; he wasn't wrong, per say, but she'd also never seen Killian get that worked up that he'd completely forget to call her. "Well, you've known him longer," she said dubiously.

"It's an academics thing, I'm afraid. When one gets caught in the single-minded pursuit of knowledge, one can lose sight of what's truly important. I've seen it many times before."

She pursed her lips. She hoped he was wrong in this case, but she knew better than to bet on that. Though, she remembered one of the things Liam had implied the night before, that without her Killian could focus better and actually accomplish what he'd set out to do. That hit her like a punch in the gut. "Well. Alright, thanks for giving me a heads up."

"Not a problem, Emma. Have a good day."

"You too." After she hung up, Emma stared absently at the ice cream starting to melt along the edges of the carton, chocolatey blobs against the scooped and scraped lines dotted with fudge and brownie bits. She didn't like to think that maybe Liam was right, that maybe a few days away from her would be good for Killian's research, would be good for him in general. But the thought was there, racing around and around in her brain like a merry-go-round out of control. She glanced up at Ingrid, who looked concerned. "Well," Emma said, forcing some optimism she definitely did not feel, "looks like I might be taking care of all the painting myself over the next few days."

It did make her feel better that Killian called later that night; he and Will were still on the road with two research assistants, somewhere in Kansas. He sounded excited about the prospects ahead and Emma couldn't help but smile as she listened to him go on about the models and figures. "How long do you think you'll be gone?" she asked, tucking her legs up against her tighter.

"If the line of storms stays strong, we could be after it a week or so. Depends on what we run into."

The urge to say something sappy gripped her tongue, but she held off, not wanting to embarrass him in front of his peers. Or maybe it was the lingering thought that he'd do better without her nearby. "Okay. I guess you'll be too busy to call much?"

"Probably, but I'll try to touch base when I can, love."

God, Liam couldn't have planned this better, if he even knew about it. He'd be crowing. Asshole. Emma swallowed, her heart both very full from missing Killian already and hurting because of what his brother had said. "Stay safe, Killian. Good luck."

"As safe as possible."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Then it was just her, her erratic work schedule, and the messy house she'd made for herself. Emma sighed, and she swore it echoed through the empty house.

When she wasn't working, she kept the TV on rather than the radio. The noise helped to drown out the lingering taunts and obsessive thoughts in her mind. But there was another bonus to it. She primed every wall in the downstairs except for the kitchen while watching more Weather Center Live and Local on the 8s segments than she could remember ever watching in her life, even living with Killian. If there were going to be any updates on the front he was going after, she wanted to know as soon as possible.

She also watched a lot of weird survival-type shows about extreme weather conditions and even something about killer bees, but that usually got interrupted by news updates.

And it was on the news updates that she finally got word of Killian.

She was painting the living room - a dusty turquoise color she liked and she hoped he didn't have any objections to - when she heard the news break sound clip. Emma paused, watching the broadcaster move in front of the green screen and showcase the severe storm they were tracking in eastern Wyoming. Her lips pursed, worry causing her heart to beat a little faster, and she went back to painting, keeping one ear on the TV and waiting to hear what happened.

"We've got a regular correspondent, storm chaser Killian Jones, on the line. Killian it's good to hear from you, can you tell us what you saw there?"

Emma whipped her head around, watching as footage was shown on the screen from what must be the aftermath, listening to Killian talk about the storm. He sounds tired, she thought. And frustrated, which meant he didn't get what he needed out of this one. The scene certainly looked like there'd been a tornado, a couple of downed trees and debris everywhere, a caved-in house and an overturned pickup. "No deaths," she heard him say, "just a few minor injuries the first responders are tending to, but my team and I will be helping where we can before following this one."

Emma turned the volume down. She'd gotten what she needed, Killian was alright and he was going to be a bear about not getting what he needed, and it was going to be a long couple of days while he chased this system across the country.

Part of her wanted to run over to the bar and snap her fingers at Liam - Emma being around didn't have any effect on how Killian's research was going. The other part felt ashamed for feeling any vindication from his failed chase.

Really, though, overall she just felt drained.

She was going to need more paint.

The next couple of days passed much the same, but as Emma moved on from the living room to the dining room (a green that looked nice with all the whitewashed trim) and then into the hallways and stairwell (a neutral caramel that went with everything), Killian seemed to pop up on every evening storm report. Even on TV she could see how frustrated he was, the way he ran his fingers through his hair and the slight clench of his jaw during a question; that was the third day of chasing this particular system, when they were close enough to a nearby affiliate for a news team to come out. The other times were all phone-ins.

She didn't watch the livestreams, if Will did any; it would only make her more anxious, and they'd started muting them, mostly due to how much swearing went on when the chases went live, so it wouldn't help her figure out what was going on anyway.

Killian didn't call at all in that time and she had absolutely no idea what to think about that. Well, she kind of did, but it was such a mess of conflicting emotions that she didn't have the strength for sorting through right now, and so she just hoped she had no idea why he hadn't called.

Still, it was surprising to come home after a late shift at work to find the TIV in the driveway. Surprising, and a little hurtful that he hadn't called to say he was coming home, but Emma was glad to see the monstrous thing in one piece, nary a scratched pirate flag in sight - and hopefully the man who captained it was in one piece as well.

She opened the front door, thankful the smell of paint had died down with all the windows being open, and noted that all the lights were off downstairs. Emma left her shoes by the door and locked up, then went upstairs quietly. The upstairs was dark, too, and she shuffled around in the bedroom to get her things, trying not to make any noise - but her own silence alerted her to the fact that she didn't hear Killian.

He wasn't one to snore, but he could breathe pretty loudly when he put his mind to it. She flicked on the bedside lamp and noted with a frown the bed in much the same state as she'd left it that morning. Where was he?

Leaving everything in a heap on the bed, she went back downstairs. The hall light illuminated enough that she could see into the living room and just make out the lump on the couch that hadn't been there earlier.

Her heart sank with every step she took. She took in the empty beer bottles on the floor, the blanket that was half on the floor at this point and exposing his tightly folded arms and his scrunched up legs, and even in the poor lighting she could see the scowl that remained on his face even in sleep. Emma wanted to wake him, to bring him up to bed and hold him and ease away his frustrations, but her pulse just hammered in her throat every time she tried to open her mouth.

She could be glad he chose to come home, but it hurt to see him balled up on the couch, clearly having drank himself to sleep, rejecting the idea of the comfort of their bed and her arms.

So she swallowed past the lump in her throat and fixed the blanket, tucking it up around him and making sure it wouldn't slip down again. She hesitated, then felt a pinch of disgust at herself for doing so; she brushed his bangs away from his forehead and pressed a kiss there, not daring to hope he was waking up when he stirred a little under her. "I love you," she whispered.

She lingered for a moment, watching him, then slowly walked back to the hall, turned off the light and went upstairs, alone.

Two years ago…

"Swan!"

The front door slammed shut, jarring Emma out of her pleasure-filled daze. The sound of feet on the stairs and Killian talking as he ran happened faster than she could react. "There's an imminent event, the instability levels are the highest I've seen in ages, we're guaranteed to get something and I know I promised you-"

He stopped at the top of the stairs, his words cut off as he took in the sight of her spread out naked on the bed with her vibrator clutched in one hand. Killian blinked, slowly, mouth dropping open a little. "Interrupting, am I?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.

She was a little strung out, her body thrumming from a peak just out of reach, and she couldn't help but laugh a little. "Well, it's hot, and I was bored."

Her lofted bedroom had been stifling when she'd woken up; Mary Margaret was off at work and Emma had slept late after getting in around three in the morning. She'd opened the little windows above her bed and turned on the fans, but it only helped so much. So then she'd figured, whatever, she was home alone, she was a grown-ass woman, she could be naked in her own apartment if she wanted to.

And well, then she'd gotten bored scrolling through her phone.

Emma sat up, wincing a little as her core throbbed in protest. "What's going on with some imminent event?" she asked.

Killian crossed the room in two strides, his hands going to her shoulders as he gently pushed her back down on the bed. "Different imminent event first," he said, dropping to his knees.

"What - are you serious?" she asked. He took hold of her legs and gently pulled her forward until her ass was just at the edge of the bed. She felt warm in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the room; bad enough that he'd walked in on her going to town on herself, but now he was putting aside something urgent just to- "Oh God," she cried, her head falling back as he parted her with his fingers and licked a long stripe up her center.

She was definitely sensitive, definitely ready to come, and now she definitely didn't care about anything else other than keeping her boyfriend's head between her thighs.

He tasted her with short, firm strokes, easing her legs up over his shoulders and then gripping her hips with firm hands. She couldn't catch her breath, straining under his cruel ministrations. His tongue swirled around her clit and dipped down to her entrance and Emma's fingers dug so hard into her comforter that she expected the cross-hatch marks would never go away. God, she'd been so close when he'd hurried in, lost in a fantasy where they were playing a game of pirate and kidnapped princess; she wondered how he'd take such a game, if he'd be willing to make her submit to his whims, but that was a conversation for when he wasn't doing that with his tongue inside of her.

She made a whining noise when he pulled away, but she hadn't noticed his hand leaving her hip - something firm nudged her entrance and she lifted her head, looking down at him in confusion and he grinned at her, winking when he flicked the 'on' button of her vibrator. Emma gasped, her toes curling and her legs tightening over his shoulders, and then that absolute asshole bent down and pressed down on her clit with the flat of his tongue. Her gasps quickly turned into pleading moans, his name tumbling from her lips with a few curses tossed in for good measure. She couldn't hear him over the low thrum of the vibrator, but she knew he would be chuckling because he was an asshole like that, and her hips seemed to be rutting up against his face all on their own. She scrambled for a better grip on the bed, but his other hand found hers and she gripped him tight. "Killian - oh, fuck, Killian -"

And then she was flying, bucking wildly into his face and felt so good that it almost hurt, her skin was so overly sensitive from his attentions and her earlier play with the vibrator.

Killian turned it off and gently pulled it out of her while she trembled from aftershocks; she was sure she'd never be able to unlock her fingers from his, she was holding onto him so tight, and he looked at her with a mix of smug satisfaction and gentle adoration as he stretched out on the bed next to her, bringing their clasped hands up to his mouth to kiss her fingers. "Still bored?" he asked.

Emma exhaled, then turned her head to look at him. If she wasn't so overwhelmed by the aftermath of her orgasm, she'd be overwhelmed by the amount of feeling in the look he was giving her - the amount of feeling in her chest she wanted to express. But it was like a vice gripped her tongue, and she could only reply, "No, but now I think I need a nap."

He grinned and then, with an amount of energy it would take another decade for her to muster, he bounded to his feet and went to her wardrobe, tossing a t-shirt, jeans, and a lightweight plaid shirt at her, all while talking. "No time for naps, Swan, though I suppose you can do that in the car." He went to her dresser then, looking through the drawers. "As I was saying, there's an imminent event and we need to be on the road."

A pair of her own underwear hit her in the face, then a bra. "We?" she asked, not moving; she couldn't, really, her legs felt like jelly and laying on the bed felt nice.

"Yes, love, 'we'. I did promise you I'd take you on a chase when the opportunity presented itself, didn't I?" He paused, looking into the drawer thoughtfully, then tossed a pair of socks at her as well. "It'll be muddy if we have to get out of the TIV, so boots or trainers please. Work boots, not your everyday ones."

With enormous effort, she managed to sit up, moving the clothes off of her and onto the bed next to her. "You do realize that you've effectively rendered me useless for a few hours."

"That's why you'll be in the back. Will's driving, I've got the computers. You'll be along for the ride, a third set of eyes, but you can nap in the car until things get underway."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You really think Will's going to be okay with you bringing me along and then me just conking out in the back for most of it?"

"He'll be fine."

"And you don't get to tell him why I'm so out of it."

Killian gave her another cheeky grin and she rolled her eyes, giving in. She grabbed everything and padded down to the bathroom to put herself together. She kept in mind that they'd be in the car for most of the day, and out in the wet and the wind if they got out, and braided her hair after brushing some dry shampoo through it. When she came out, Killian was cooling his heels by the door, and Emma raised an eyebrow at him again. "Am I going to eat at all today or is this a 'grab what you can when you can' kind of day?"

"We'll stop by Granny's on the way to Will's. Come on."

In fact, it seemed like he'd called ahead before he'd even gotten to her place, because Granny had two bags of take away waiting for them at the counter. "You bring her back in one piece now, you got it?" she asked, glaring at Killian pointedly over her glasses.

"If she's not in one piece, then it's because I'm also not in one piece."

Emma, blushing a little from Granny's overprotectiveness, gave a smile of thanks as Killian paid and they hurried back to the TIV.

They ate as he drove; Will still lived in Norman, so they were going to backtrack a little before making their way west and south to meet up with the cold front Killian was pinning all of this on. This was the first time she saw the TIV's interior all set up for a chase; instead of the brackets being used for Killian's computers, Emma just set up the trays to put her food on, smiling sweetly when he gave her an exasperated look. "It's a lot lighter than two laptops and all your batteries and wifi cables and whatever," she argued, spreading her onion rings out in front of her and sorting them from smallest to biggest, just because she could.

"No respect," he said with feigned dismay.

"Nope," she said, startling a laugh out of him. "Respect is for men who don't barge into my apartment unannounced and then give me excellent orgasms."

He hummed, an amused glint in his eye. "I'll keep that in mind."

She finished her breakfast-slash-lunch just as they pulled into Will's apartment complex; it was very much a student apartment block, one on the lower-end amenities-wise, but if Will was having similar money woes as Killian, it wasn't unexpected. Killian honked twice; Emma glared at him. "We have to get out anyway, just go and knock on his door."

"It's how he knows it's me!"

"And him opening the door to your face wouldn't let him know it was you?"

"Well, then we both have to get in the TIV and this way I'm getting things situated while he gets in."

Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Men. They got out and she went to sit behind the driver's seat while Killian got his computers set up; Will hurried down the stairs and practically vaulted into the TIV. "Bloody hell, it took you lot long enough," he commented, barely buckling his seatbelt before getting them back out onto the road.

"We stopped to eat," Killian said mildly. Emma hid a smirk at his phrasing; she still felt pleasantly worn out from earlier. "And yes, there's something for you, you heathen."

While Will drove, ate, and managed to cuss out half the drivers on the road all at the same time, Killian started filling them both in on their plan of attack for the day. At this point, he'd gotten everything connected and running on his laptops and he could point out the wind and temperature patterns on his charts to Emma, who by now could at least understand what he was talking about, if not make an educated guess on what his charts meant.

They'd head west and south, possibly heading into Texas if they didn't meet up with the line before then. They would get into position to launch their probes, and possibly intercept if it could be managed. More for Emma's benefit, Killian explained how they had helmets and extra harnesses in the seats to keep them as restrained and safe as possible in case something went wrong with the intercept.

She watched him as he talked, fascinated at how animated he was about the whole process, from safety measures to tiny points of data. She couldn't see his eyes too well, he was wearing sunglasses even if he wasn't always looking back at her, but the enthusiasm in his voice was more than a little infectious. Yes, she'd asked if he'd take her out with him sometime, but it didn't mean the prospect wasn't more than a little scary; only now was she realizing that scary was okay - as long as he was there with her.

At one point, she leaned forward enough so that she could play with the hair at the nape of his neck while he talked; slowly, as if he reacted without realizing it, he relaxed into her touch. She smiled when he make a noise of content, but Will's reaction wasn't so pleased. "Oi, if you two are going to be all touchy-feely for the duration, I've got no problem letting you two get out and walk to Texas from here."

"Oh, stop it," Killian admonished.

Emma eyed the back of Will's head, pursing her lips. "Hey, I'd play with your hair too, if you didn't keep it cut like you were still a cadet."

"It's more practical this way."

She hummed, lightly scratching at Killian's nape one more time before sitting back in her seat. Killian turned a little to look at her, an exaggerated pout on his lips, and her stomach did a little flip.

God, she was so fucked for this man.

Smiling, she turned away, watching the endless farmland pass by outside. It was fairly repetitive: field of crops, dilapidated barn, the occasional pasture filled with some livestock, house, repeat. Eventually, it proved to be just soporific enough to put her to sleep, the excitement of the morning catching up with her.

She didn't know how long she slept for, and when she did wake it was hard to convince herself to open her eyes; the seats were comfortable with all the extra padding - another safety measure. Also, Killian and Will seemed to be having a rather heated discussion about her.

"Mate, I just don't see why you brung her."

"She wanted to come. I promised her ages ago I'd take her out, she wants to see what I do besides stare at Excel sheets."

"She don't take you out where she works."

"She's police, Will. Why are you so bothered by this? We've had other people work with us before."

"That's the thing, innit? They work with us. She's just - a bloody tourist, like one of those groups that charge you a couple hundred and drag you around the countryside and go 'welp, looks like it was a bad day, folks, sorry, no refunds'."

"She's not dead weight. If we need an extra pair of hands, she'll be more than capable. I thought you liked her."

Will's voice was quiet and Emma knew she needed to make it known soon that she was awake, but she also really wanted to know the answer to this. She and Liam were still less than friends, and she wanted to hear if Will thought similarly. "I do like her. This isn't against her, this is... I dunno, mate. I don't like feeling like I'm just playing chauffeur or third wheel on some kind of 'impress the girl' tour."

Killian sounded like he'd had a small epiphany. "This isn't about Emma. This is about Ana."

"Don't wanna talk about that c-"

They hit a hole in the road that caused the whole back end to jolt and Emma let out a little shriek of surprise as Killian swore. "Bloody fucking lazy-ass, penny-pinching, corrupt sons of-"

Will pulled over and Killian barely waited for him to stop before getting out and going around to inspect the front tire where they'd hit. They could still hear him cursing ODOT and all the holes they hadn't patched up on the highways, and Emma let her head fall back with a sigh. "How much of that did you hear?" Will asked, surprising her.

She caught his eye in the rearview mirror. He didn't look guilty so much as he looked embarrassed that she'd overheard. "Enough," she said, "to know that I seem to have this problem with the people in Killian's life."

"I'm sorry, lass," he told her. "Shoulda waited to talk to him without you nearby."

She shook her head. "Not sorry you said it, though."

"Like that mind-reading bastard said, it's not about you."

"Ana."

He sighed. "Don't wanna get into it, but she's a right bitch of the first order. Thought she was everything, instead she took everything. Look, I do like you, not that my opinion matters 'coz I'm not the one dating you, but you're good for him." Killian continued to swear outside and Emma smiled wanly. "Ain't never seen him happier, present situation excluded, and that might be what put a bug up my arse about it. So I'm sorry - my shit getting in the way."

She pursed her lips. Yes, it stung. Could she fault him for letting his own feelings cloud his judgement? No. "Next time you have a problem, just take it up with me personally; don't go through Killian. He's got enough on his plate."

He caught her eye again and she saw the crow's feet form around his eyes as he smiled. "He does, but I dunno if I wanna go head on with you, lass - you'll knock me dick up through my teeth if I'm not careful."

Emma just smiled, not confirming or denying anything, as Killian got back in and practically ordered, "It'll hold for now, just drive."

They stopped a little while later for gas and to put a little extra air in the tire, just in case; Will was the one to get out this time, leaving Emma and Killian alone in the TIV. Killian shoved his sunglasses up on top of his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry if you heard-" he started, but she interrupted him.

"We already talked about it. He apologized, we made a sort of deal that we'll butt heads with each other about anything else in the future. He'll leave you out of it."

He looked guilty, and she unbuckled herself to lean forward and play with his hair again. "I didn't want today to go like this," he said. "Losing my temper like that, letting Will run his mouth. I wanted to share this with you, and I feel like it's just going badly."

Emma closed the space between them and kissed his cheek. "It's not your fault. I'm not even mad, I'm just… you have a lot of people who love you, and I'm a little worried about how much I have to prove to them that I - that I care about you too."

His eyes flicked up to hers, completely catching on to her stumbling over the words. They were just shy of a year of dating and they hadn't said it yet. Oh, she'd almost said it - back in April, for instance, when he'd taken her for that picnic and taught her about storms. One morning a few weeks ago when he'd surprised her at the station with hot cocoa and a bear claw, she'd covered up the urge to say it by taking far too large a bite out of her breakfast.

This morning, laying naked in her bed when he'd eaten her out and not asked for anything in return.

She knew he felt it. The way he was looking at her right now definitely said it. But he was waiting for her to make the first move, letting her set their pace, and she was just too damned scared to say it.

Even though she was almost positive she felt the same way as he did.

The door opened and Will got back in, so Emma just kissed Killian on the cheek again before sitting back in her seat.

Dark, heavy clouds sat low in the sky as they got back on the road and Emma scanned the cloud base carefully for any signs of activity. Lightning lit up the cloud interior here and there, and the occasional cloud-to-ground bolt made her start with surprise, but she reminded herself that this was what they'd come out here to chase and it would only get worse - if they were lucky.

Odd, to think that the worse the conditions, the luckier they'd be.

"Emma, love, do you mind navigating?" She looked up and saw Killian offering her the smaller laptop. "I'll give you where we need to be going and you tell Will where to turn. It gets trickier to look between both screens sometimes, especially when I have to send emails."

"Sure." She thought she'd do better with her phone, but she'd use the thing that didn't suck up her data plan out here in the middle of nowhere. "You're writing emails? Now?"

"Updates to the National Weather Service, love. Strictly business."

They stopped just on the edge of the storm and got out - Emma mostly to stretch, but Will and Killian wanted to get their anemometers and barometers and whatever-meters balanced to the area before going in. Killian took some photos too, while Will set up a GoPro on the front dash. "I can stream this on our social pages," he explained while Emma watched. "With social media, news stations can pick stuff up, let people know how bad it is, and we can get some cash from it."

Killian came up beside her, slipping his arm around her waist and tucking his hand in her pocket. She leaned into him and he pressed a kiss to her temple. "I let Will deal with Twitter and whatnot, I'm not good with the hashtags and selfies and whatever else kids are doing these days."

"You're such an old man," Will grumbled, looking down at his phone.

"Selfies are easy," Emma said, taking his camera from him. She held it in front of them and she felt his head bump into hers as they leaned in close.

Okay, selfies with an actual DSLR weren't as easy as they were with the phone, but she had to admit the photo came out nice anyway. Even if her hair was escaping from its braid, wisps of it all windblown and sticking up a little from all the static in the air.

"Now how do I put this on Twitter?" Killian asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

"First you shove it up your arse-" Will stopped, laughing as Emma reached over and smacked him on the arm.

A rumble of thunder reminded them why they were out there. "Alright, it's now or never," Killian said. "Let's get the helmets on now so we don't have to scramble if we get close to an intercept."

As they strapped in, belt and harness this time, and Emma settled her helmet on, she suddenly wondered why they hadn't seen any other chasers out, and mentioned it. "There's at least three other teams that we know of out now," Will said. "Just texted 'em. This storm's big enough to come at from a few different directions, so we coordinated a little."

"And I've been emailing with a few as well. We're all working for the same goal," Killian added. "It's not like one person gets to grab the singular prize and they win. Everyone has different reasons for chasing, so the only real reason we have to coordinate is so that if someone gets in trouble, the others can go help out. We're all looking at the same section of the storm, so you'll see another crew soon."

She had a thought; she could see their location on the map, so maybe these other crews were visible too? And there it was - if she zoomed out on the map, she saw what he was talking about; everyone's GPS location was there and she counted five other teams in the area. She went back to the original map positions as Killian started reading off probable target areas and Emma got to work figuring out how that translated to the GPS.

Rain splattered against the windshield, slowly at first with fat drops of rain, but soon increased to a torrential downpour. Killian didn't want them to get stuck in the rain too soon, so he and Emma worked together to get them towards the southern side of the storm, still east of where the hook was starting to form on the map. But the rain was persistent, even as it tapered to a more visible hindrance, and as they moved closer to their target area, hail started to pelt against the hard outer shell of the TIV. "That's good, right?" Emma called over the racket it was making.

"Hopefully!" Killian said.

"If it don't break our equipment!" Will added.

Emma saw another map come up on Killian's computer, this one mottled reds and greens. "Wind directions," he said. "We're looking for red and green close together, it signals they're in rotation and either a funnel cloud or an actual tornado."

He brought the radar and the wind map up side by side, and Emma joined Will in actually scanning the skies for signs of activity. "All the technology in the world can't make up for human senses," Will said.

She thought it was interesting how they balanced -Will could do the technologically social side of their job but preferred to use his eyes to do the actual work, Killian was helpless at social media but could run several programs at once to detect tornadic activity. Even if they were good friends otherwise, she was starting to see how they worked well as an actual team; friendship could only help so much in a working relationship.

"I think - yes, we need to go a bit northeast to get ahead of it, but there might be something," Killian said.

Emma scanned her map and told Will where to turn next. She zoomed out and saw a few other teams heading the same way. "Three others think the same," she said.

"Good. We'll get into position and deploy the probes, and then hopefully we can intercept."

"And it'll be a good day for everyone," Will added.

She looked out the window, looking towards the south and west of where they were. The rain made it a little harder to see, but she could still tell where the cloud bottoms were; wispy, low-hanging cloudlets darted along faster than the darker mass above, and she wished she knew more about what she was looking for in the churning gray clouds. For all that she'd lived most of her life in the Midwest and Tornado Alley, she'd never seen a tornado in person before, just the aftermath.

They put in another couple of miles before Killian launched the probes; it was one thing to know that it was basically like having six giant t-shirt cannons sticking out of the TIV, but it was another for all those air pressure valves to be released at once, right near Emma's head. "Sorry," Killian said, his voice dimmed by the ringing in her ears.

"What?" she asked loudly.

"I said - oh, bloody hell, you're teasing."

"Only a little." Emma looked at her map again. "Will, skip this next road and turn left on the one about a mile down the way."

"What? That'll put us way out of the way of the probes."

"Yeah, but the wind map says they'll get picked up and carried off - and the storm's turning."

She glanced up and Killian was looking back at her with sheer delight on his face. "You're learning, Swan."

She smiled, pleased that he was so pleased at how quickly she was picking everything up. The rain suddenly dropped off and Will swore. He gunned it, and all three of them looked off to their left. "I see it!" Will shouted. "Funnel cloud!"

Killian had his phone out in a second to call it in, while Emma scanned the clouds for what he was talking about. She only saw the wispy cloudlets, though, until Killian hung up and said, "Look behind the scud, it's a bit pointy -"

"The what?"

"Little wispy bits, they're called scud, look behind them for the funnel."

She looked again and saw what he was talking about: the thin funnel cloud was rotating as it slowly stretched downwards. "Can we get ahead of it?"

"Doin' me best, lass."

The engine roared as Will floored it again. He asked how many roads were available for turnoff ahead and she told him three; he took the second one, slowing down enough so that the whole TIV didn't tip over during a turn but just barely - they still leaned uncomfortably far and the tires were actually squealing a little before they got some traction and rumbled off on down the road. She wondered just how just further they'd go, watching as the funnel cloud reached the ground and a cloud of debris swirling upwards around it, when they slowed suddenly and the TIV shook as they went offroad. "Deploying," Will said, parking and pulling on a lever that dropped the lower armored flaps.

Killian had his own buttons to push, the ones that deployed the spikes deep into the ground and anchored them in place - in theory. One of these days, they might not work as well as they'd hoped, but he'd told her that in all his intercepts so far (three, in the last five years or so) the safety measures had worked without fail.

"Now what?" Emma asked.

"We wait," Killian said, his eyes on the tornado.

"If you're the praying type, I'd do that too," Will added.

Emma wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but she swallowed hard and gripped her harness for something to do with her hands. The TIV started to shudder as the wind outside picked up. "It's not the funnel that's the problem," Killian said. "It's the wind's all outside it and what they carry. The funnel's just the middle."

He said all of this very calmly and Emma wondered if that's what she sounded like when describing a crime scene, and if people thought she was crazy for being so calm about something so dangerous, too.

Something bashed into the TIV on the passenger's side and she yelped. "See?" Killian said.

A small rain of debris started to join in beating up the TIV, along with the rain, and Emma's fight-or-flight instincts were extremely unhappy with her current situation. The wind outside roared and she squeezed her eyes shut as the shaking grew more violent. There were some serious regrets about asking to come chase sometime and she felt very much like she'd gotten into something way over her head here. She wasn't the type of person who put much stock into praying, but she thought it might not do any harm to asking whoever might be listening to get them through this in one piece.

Something touched her knee and she opened her eyes. Killian was reaching back for her, giving her a reassuring look as he twiddled his fingers at her. She took his hand and he squeezed it, just as the view outside of the windows grew dark with the amount of dirt flying through the air.

Emma didn't think she blacked out at all during the interception, but if she had to recall it later, the only thing that came to mind was how dark and loud it was, and the warmth of Killian's hand in hers. It felt like it lasted for days, and she didn't realize it was over until he tugged on her hand a little to bring her out of whatever trance she'd gotten lost in. "Come on," he said.

She blinked - surely he didn't mean what she thought he meant. But no, he did, letting go of her hand to undo his safety harness and seatbelt; Will was doing the same. She followed their lead, a few beats behind; she left the helmet on, though, she didn't want a rogue two-by-four falling out of the sky and bashing her head in.

The sky was already lighter as the storm rolled on ahead. Emma joined them on the road, watching as the tornado started to rope out in the distance. Killian was taking pictures again, Will filming with the GoPro. Emma felt the adrenaline start to wear off, and leaned back against the TIV for support, not caring how filthy her clothes were going to get. Killian turned, putting the camera on the passenger's seat. Evidently, his adrenaline was still pumping, because he pulled her up and whirled her around, a grin on his face. "That was the best intercept we've had in ages, love, you were brilliant!"

"Me?" she asked, breathless.

"You," he said. "You picked up on everything so quickly, you made that last call on where to go, and without it we wouldn't have gotten nearly so many results. We make quite the team, if you don't mind me saying."

Finally, she started to grin. She was tired - exhausted, really - and everything was sort of catching up to her all at once. "We do," she said, "and don't take this the wrong way, Killian, but as much as I love you I never want to do this again."

His face went slack. "What?"

"I never want to go chasing again. I think this was more than enough-"

"No, the part before that," he said.

Emma paused, trying to remember what she'd said. She'd gotten to see what he did, which was what all of this had started out as, and she loved him, but this had been more than-

She loved him.

She'd said it out loud.

She met his eyes, the fight-or-flight instinct coming back, and he was looking at her with such raw hope that it gave her the courage to ask, "The part where I said I love you?"

"Aye," Killian said, his voice cracking. "That's the one. You bloody maddening woman, you'll be the death of me."

He picked her up and spun them around again, meeting her lips with a quick kiss. "I love you, too," he said softly, for their ears only.

Emma grinned, bumping his forehead with hers.

Will sighed, loudly. "If you two are done bein' all twitterpated with each other? Can we go find our probes? Get back home before it gets too late and maybe start looking at the data?"

Killian hardly spared a glance to his friend. "Dunno, mate, we might not get back early enough for data mining. We've probably all earned a good rest after today, don't you think, Emma?"

She smiled coyly, hoping he was implying what she thought he was implying. "Oh, definitely. Take a look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow."

After all, she did have to repay him for this morning.

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