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orbitariums · 4 years

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟒)

part three

note - i wanna thank everyone for reading once again! i'm currently in the process of writing imagines, those will be posted throughout the week, i don't want to clog up my blog bc i want y'all to see this chapter!

this one switches pov a lil more frequently, so bear with me <3 also not as smutty as other chapters, this is more of an emotionally-charged chapter!!! still a teensy bit smutty thooo. i want to make it clear that while this fic is definitely rooted in smut & sex & sex work, it is not porn without plot & will not ONLY be smut as i put effort and time into plot development / character development! i'm sure y'all know that tho. there will be conflict, there will be plot!!! i feel like that's clear already but there's discourse on smut happening rn and i wanna voice myself! omg anyways luv y'all enjoy the reaaad <3

new taglist!

playlist

word count - 8.3k

warnings - age gap, sex work, smut, vibrator, ANGSTYYY like hella dramatic, dirty talk

That slight shift that you and Steve both felt, that happiness that you realized came from talking to one another, only lasted so long... for you. You could hardly sit in your feelings about your situation with Steve before another thing that occupied all your time came crashing down upon you. Except this time, the thing brought you no such happiness or curiosity.

You had spent almost your entire senior year working on a special lab project about drought tolerant plants in Southern California where you lived and went to school, and your professor was making completing your project incredibly hard for you. And you felt incredibly stressed out about the entire situation - not only was the project necessary to graduate, but it was your heart and soul for the past year. Now, your professor was basically saying it was "ineligible."

"Ineligible?" Aaliyah repeated after you, after you told her what your professor had said.

"Whatever the hell that means," you huffed as you power walked down the street, hand in hand with Aaliyah, your free hand holding a coffee.

"That's so fucking annoying, holy shit," Aaliyah pressed a hand to her forehead. "He had the whole year to talk to you about changing your topic and...”

"And he never did," you sighed, frowning. You settled down onto a bench where the two of you sat next to each other, staring out into the busy streets and sipping your iced coffees.

California was a beautiful place, and you were a native, you'd lived there all your life. You knew the ins and outs of your city, knew Southern California like it was your backbone. And you loved it here - loved the sun, the beaches, the way the people were either shady in the best way or incredibly friendly. You'd never really known any other place like you knew this place. You were just glad that if you had to be stressed, you could do so in California.

Aaliyah pouted, feeling for you. She placed her hand on your knee to be comforting,

"Babe..."

"It's okay," you sighed. You sucked it up, like always, because you had learned how to fend for yourself ever since you realized that depending on others could only lead to downfall. You would figure this out the same way you figured everything else out... on your own. You figured out your house on your own, your job, your finances.

"Is it, though?" Aaliyah pursed her lips and squinted at you. Despite how much you tried to fend for yourself, Aaliyah was always there for you. She was one of your biggest supporters.

"I'll just keep visiting during his office hours and work this out."

Aaliyah rolled her eyes,

"Men are so annoying, girl. You know what, he probably wants to fuck you. With your fine ass. That's why he's doing all this."

You chuckled, shaking your head and covering your mouth, trilling back in response,

"Okay girl, don't get too ahead of yourself."

"I'm serious! Men are evil. Oh, except your fave."

You made a face, nearly choking on your iced coffee. This was news to you,

"Who are we talking about?"

"You know," Aaliyah sang slightly, nudging you and leaning against your shoulder. "Mr. Won't Show His Face."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but bit down on your straw with a knowing smile, eyes peeking out over the top of your shades. If you were being honest, this idea of Steve, whoever he really was, had been a fun thing to entertain during this period of stress. You'd been talking and engaging with him for two and a half weeks now, and the connection you two had was undeniable.

But you knew better - maybe he wasn't just another customer, because you could really talk to him and felt like he was real - then again, he was strictly a customer. You liked him, a lot, but you couldn't like him any more than you already did. That would be dangerous and silly, and create unrealistic expectations. It wasn't like you could go on dates or anything.

Still, talking to him (and performing for him) did help to distract you from your stress, at least for a small amount of time. Steve was becoming less shy, less inhibited. He cracked jokes and was starting to keep up with your innate sense of sexuality, starting to navigate you, find you the way a bee might find its nectar, hidden deep inside the curvatures of a flower.

If you were a flower, you'd probably be a sunflower - bright, yellow, almost always in a positive mood, or at least trying to keep yourself in a positive mood. More than that though, sunflowers were tall and looming - you felt like that represented your put togetherness and how hard you worked, how smart you were. Only sometimes it was hard to keep yourself up and tall, but you always did it, time and time again.

But when it came to Aaliyah's comments about Steve, she mostly just made you laugh.

"Haven't seen him yet, have you?" Aaliyah asked, raising her brows expectantly.

"No. And I'm fine with that. He's simply another very loyal customer who I happen to like."

"Hm," Aaliyah hummed, and you could tell her mind was up to something - some very wishful, and mischievous thinking.

"What are you up to?" you narrowed your eyes at her and glared at her, and she just shook her head with a lazy smile,

"Nothing. Just thinking that maybe it would be cool if he really was this really hot guy that you actually knew and he wasn't creepy and y'all... you know... started dating. Just to get your mind off a lot of crap. I know, I know, strictly against the rules, blah blah blah. No feelings for customers, it's basic shit. But in a perfect world..."

"I know," you sighed without thinking, sipping at your drink.

"You know?" Aaliyah questioned, surprised.

You shrugged,

"So I've thought about it. Except, you know, in a perfect world, I'd meet a guy like Steve in like, a farmer's market or something. Not on my shady ass cam shows."

Aaliyah snorted laughing, and at the sound of her laughter, you joined in.

You continued,

"I mean, not Steve exactly, because that would be weird. I just mean, a guy like Steve."

"You mean a guy who makes you feel the same way he makes you feel," Aaliyah corrected you, and you glared at her again, pushing her gently.

"Don't push it," you teased, but you meant it - you might have liked Steve, but that was all there was to it - you liked him, he was a distraction. And maybe even that was too much.

✺ ✺ ✺

As for Steve, he thoroughly enjoyed his time with you. He thought constantly about how you made him feel, how much he looked forward to talking to you. How everyday, his worry about your situation becoming more serious dissipated slowly. He could feel himself easing into you, everything that made up this character you created called Moonrose. Conversation seemed casual, like you knew each other in real life, it felt easy, and there was no pressure.

As for your connection, he had finally acknowledged that it was real, and more than either of you had wanted to realize at first. But now, there was no shame, no worry in acknowledging what the two of you had, because you were both smart enough to keep it at this level. It was like a shallow pool. There would be no drowning.

He mostly talked to Bucky about you when it came to the emotional aspect of it. He still feared that if he talked to Tony, it might come across as an issue, and might put a pause on what he had with you. But everyone noticed how different Steve was acting. Even without the phase he had gone through where he was sexually frustrated and angry, he still acted different.

Lighter on his feet, more smiley. And he was always on top of his work. You weren't distracting him from his duty, so that made the fact that he knew you had a unique connection with him more bearable. Because of you, he was learning to worry less. To have a little more fun.

It was a bright day that week, the sun filtering in through the large windows of the meeting room where everyone was gathered. Steve was engaging in some mindless conversation with Sam and Bucky in which they were debating whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza.

"No. I'm not sure why everyone keeps trying to put all these twists on pizza. It's pizza," Bucky scoffed, Sam rolling his eyes as a result.

"You're just closed off. With your old ass," Sam retorted, and Steve made a face. Sam raised his hands up in surrender. "You know what I mean. What about you Steve?"

Honestly, Steve had never even tried pineapple on pizza and he didn't understand why there was such a big fuss about the banal question.

"I don't really have an opinion," he shrugged, not expecting Sam and Bucky to start clamoring over him and trying to force him to pick a side.

Before he even got to grasp the situation, he felt Natasha patting his shoulder,

"Hey, mind if I use your laptop? Mine's gone haywire, don't really feel like messing with it right now."

"Yeah," Steve agreed without a second thought, setting his laptop on the table and letting Natasha handle it- she was better with tech stuff than he ever was.

Natasha would use his laptop to showcase some data and start off their morning. It seemed innocent enough —a simple, barely impacting sacrifice. But Steve clearly hadn't thought everything through, because the moment Natasha logged in and hooked up Steve's computer to the holographic projector, more than just data appeared on the screen.

In fact, a whole array of women, all of them engaging in various sexual acts or preparing themselves to, showed up on the screen. And at the top, where the browser was, were the words "girlsonfilm.com."

Steve hadn't noticed all the clamor, too busy thinking (thoughts of you and thoughts of work), until Bucky called it to his attention.

"Steve," he nudged him frantically, his voice a loud whisper.

When Steve looked up at the screen, his face couldn't have gone any redder. He hadn't thought about this at all, and he had clearly forgotten to close out his browser. His heart sunk all the way to his stomach - because it wasn't just Natasha seeing this, it was everybody. And that included Tony, who was glaring pointedly at Steve from the head of the table. Meanwhile, all the others were too busy heckling Natasha and making brash comments about what was appearing onscreen. To Steve's relief, your face didn't show up, but this just might have been worse than only your screen appearing.

"Woah, Nat, I didn't know you got down like that!" Sam hooted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Natasha, though she was in shock as well, rolled her eyes,

"This is Steve's laptop."

Now a hush, then another clamor of confusion and heckling, all directed towards Steve. He couldn't recoil any more, feeling the pangs of embarrassment as his eyes flashed between every one of his teammates. He felt as if there were an asteroid approaching fast, and he was right where it would land, too slow to move out of its way.

"Steve, what do you know about 'girls on film'?" Sam nearly cackled, reading the name of the site.

Steve sighed deeply, locking eyes with Natasha as he mouthed "turn it off" to her.

"I am, I am," she ensured him, quickly disconnecting the laptop from the projection, unplugging completely.

A beat passed, everyone staring expectantly at Steve, who was staring down at the table, trying to process his own thoughts. Like for starters, why didn't he log out the last time, and why didn't he remember to log out? And then his mind went to deeper places. He hadn't been intentionally secretive with his actions, but he had been intentionally private. It had to do with his own growth, he was learning how to navigate a world that was new to him and somehow helping him at once. He didn't want to have to share this with everyone, it was nice having this to himself, he had no intentions of revealing what he had been doing in his past time that made him so happy.

One of the reasons he didn't want everyone to know about his situation was because he didn't want to have to be concerned with what everyone else might think. Because to begin with, being on a site for cam shows wasn't exactly everyone's idea of what Captain America might be up to these days.

It was a matter of his image, what values he was supposed to hold. This didn't exactly match, and Steve had just gotten over the idea that he was a bad, sneaky person because of what he chose to indulge in. At least here he knew it was ethical and not causing harm to you as a human being.

He also didn't want to have to deal with the insufferable questioning and teasing his team would put him through, or the judgment he thought they might put him through. He felt embarrassed, exposed, and like he had been ill prepared for a situation like this. He was just grateful they hadn't seen more, because that would've been a disaster. What they had seen was only at the surface level of what he'd been doing.

But his thinking was interrupted by Tony's voice, which broke through all the silence, and made Steve realize again the eyes that were on him.

"Well, jig's up," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Care to explain?"

Steve locked eyes with Tony, as if hopeful that he wouldn't have to, but he knew it was best for him to just spit it out. Tony shrugged apologetically, and Steve took in a deep sigh, looking around at everyone at the table.

"What was that?" Scott whimpered, probably the most distraught by what they had all seen.

Steve nodded solemnly and began to explain himself. He would tell the truth, but that didn't mean he had to tell them everything. You would be left out of this, if anything. He'd just explain to them that sometimes, duty calls - and sometimes, it's not at all work-related.

✺ ✺ ✺

It was just hours before your cam show when another disaster struck, the first one being the fact that your professor was giving you shit about your project. You were in the bathroom, getting ready for your show, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup, laying out an outfit, doing all the things you did to feel pretty before a show.

Your phone lay beside you on the bathroom table, pinging with messages every now and then. You ignored it, leaning closer into the mirror to get a look at your lipstick, dabbing your fingers into the pigment on your lips.

You smiled, feeling that gratifying sense of achievement. Despite what was going on with your professor, you felt like you were doing well in life. You usually had a positive mindset, enjoyed your work although you sometimes felt as if you were buried deep in all your occupations: student, office worker, cam girl, designer, young woman. Your life was never dull, and you wouldn't trade it for anything. Talking to Steve helped too, but it was more than that.

But that sense of satisfaction all seemed to dissolve when you looked down at your phone, and saw a text from an unsaved number, glaring bright on your glowing lock screen of you hiking with Aaliyah. Still, you recognized it immediately.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I miss you. Text me back.

✺ ✺ ✺

Steve wasn't exactly keen on joining your live show today, but he did so anyway, because he still had time to himself despite the spiral of events that had happened earlier. There was nothing else to do, and he didn't want to miss out on you after attending almost all of your shows for the past almost three weeks. Didn't want to just leave unexpectedly.

It felt strange that he felt this tug of commitment, but he brushed it off. He was just fulfilling his needs, which should even be expected of him. He was stressed again, after being caught up like he was. And maybe that was all the more reason not to watch your show tonight, but he wouldn't devoid himself of the simple pleasures of life. He'd learned that lesson a while ago, from a special someone called Moonrose.

After everything transpired, he explained himself calmly to his team, slowly to ensure that they'd understand that this wasn't the beginning of a deviant phase, that he wasn't throwing away his work responsibilities to lurk on the NSFW side of the internet. Not that they ever thought that to begin with, they never questioned his abilities or his authority for a minute, not even in the midst of what they'd seen that had shocked them.

This was the product of Steve's own insecurities and his admittedly silly fear that he was somehow letting his team down. He told them that he was on the site, as recommended by Tony, to relieve some "frustration" that he felt he didn't have the time or the means to release in real life. He said that while it had helped him do that, he wasn't throwing away his responsibilities, nor was he dependent on the site or the things on it, or the people on it for that matter.

He knew that if they knew about you, all those private sessions, all those conversations you'd had, the connection you had built between the two of you, it might be a different story. But because they didn't, they appreciated his honesty. They were confused, it didn't seem like the kind of thing Steve would be into, and he ensured them that it was a shock to him as well.

But they didn't mind on the whole, it was just a shock to everyone at first. They didn't think it called for a meeting, thought it was almost humorous how serious Steve was being about such a trivial situation. Wanda had joked about how we've all been there, Thor denied ever having to do such a thing because: "I have all the romantic partners anyone could ask for. I could introduce you Steve, but these Asgardian women are fiery, far beyond anything I believe you could handle." In the end, Steve was relieved, felt like it didn't have the disastrous outcome he'd been expected.

But he could feel his guard slowly coming back up. That was a close call, and it was a little too close for comfort. He didn't want to disregard you, but he couldn't afford to sink further in, and get his team involved. He just didn't want to face the consequences he could imagine if they knew how much he decided to stick with you, how much you talked, how it was teetering off the range of normal customer to cam girl interaction.

It wasn't like he was careless when it came to his interactions with you, but he also didn't want his team to know about his business when it came to you. He didn't want them thinking he was engaging too much, didn't want it to get to the point where he was worrying again or felt like he needed to deny himself such wonderful feelings.

All these things were on his mind while he waited for your live show to start. When it did, and he saw your face, he felt a little bit alleviated. Just for now, he could have this fantasy to himself. If they knew about the site, so be it. At least he had you to himself.

"Hey guys," you mustered a smile, waving to the camera.

Unbeknownst to your viewers, you had spent the past few hours off camera panicking, on the verge of tears, calling Aaliyah frantically so she could help calm you down. That text from that mysterious unknown number had been from your ex's number. The same ex who made you fall into dependency patterns that you worked so hard to get out of, the one who made you feel like you had to work for his love. Like it wasn't something you deserved, just like anyone else.

You had worked so hard to finally wring out all the effects of him, all the bad habits you had fallen into because of him. That was part of the reason why you worked so hard. Not because you were actively avoiding him specifically, but because you were actively bettering yourself. You weren't looking for a relationship. But you knew that if you were in one now, the same things would never happen to you.

When you got that text, it triggered a flood of memories. Feelings you had to work to suppress and actually get over for months so you wouldn't fall back into the same desperate, needy patterns when it came to your relationships with people. All over a simple text from someone you hadn't heard from in almost a year. It hurt you how easy it was to get you to crack, even if you didn't spill out all the way. But on top of the added stress because of school, you were damn close.

You would do the show tonight, anyway. It helped you to escape, although Moonrose was a part of you, it didn't one hundred translate into real life. So in a way, this helped you escape real life. Just for a while. Just like Steve.

You grinned when you saw concerned comments from your watchers:

johnGuy182

Are you okay, moonrose? You seem a little sad.

zenongirl

Girl r u ok? i missed seeing your face!!!

"Guys, I'm okay," you grinned. And you actually felt better seeing comments from your supporters. It reminded you to cheer up - they were looking for a good show, not a sob story. You leaned back, revealing your stomach in the sheer, sparkly fringed bra you chose to wear (another piece you had designed by yourself). "It's been a looong day."

Steve watched silently, observing your behavior. He didn't notice drastic changes, but you did appear less chipper. Then again, he brushed it off. He didn't expect you to be smiley all the time, you were human too, and this was your work.

"But I'm okay," you reassured, giving that signature grin, genuine and charming and alluring. You were trying to gently distract yourself, get into your act. "I hope you're all just as lovely as I am. I have a special game for you today."

You directed your viewers to your spinning wheel, which you had been working on crafting that week for a game. You grinned as you spinned it. Each act on the wheel cost a certain amount of tokens, and by the end of the game you would garner a bunch of funds. The show went by relatively quickly as you played the game, eventually ending up completely naked.

As ordered by the spinning wheel, you were to use a vibrator. You held it against your clit at the highest setting as you watched the numbers of viewers and the tokens jump up, Steve watching as he stroked himself leisurely. Your legs shook as you restrained yourself from your orgasm so as to increase the length of your showtime, garner more coins to encourage you to come.

"Mm," you moaned, massaging the vibrator against your clit, getting wetter and slicker by the minute, sliding the toy between your folds. You laughed, breathless. "Fuck, this thing is so powerful. Someone make me come, please make me come. Just a few more tokens for me to come for you."

Steve was hesitant, but he decided to go ahead and give you the amount of tokens you needed. And when you heard the chime of the tokens being added to your account, and saw the name it was attached to, it was like a blast of euphoria. When your legs started to shake, when you started to moan and your stomach started to rise up and down, it was genuine. It was like you were back in a private room with him, although you weren't.

Your orgasm was blood-curdling in the best way, and you felt like you were releasing part of the stress of the past day, the past week. It didn't get any realer than this, once again you felt like he was really there to satisfy you.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, your mouth dropping open and your blood flowing, moaning. "Yes, Steve, I'm coming for you. Thank you for making me come, Steve!"

Steve had been stroking himself along with you as he watched, and only let himself come now that you had come, his cheeks heating up as he heard you moan his name, something he hadn't been expected. Something about you saying his name like that where everyone could hear, even though he enjoyed the intimacy of private rooms, felt victorious. It felt lewd, salacious, but he couldn't help but enjoy that aspect of it. He moaned through grit teeth while he came, stroking himself to completion.

You came down, thanking everyone for attending and ending the show. But it wasn't long after that you had requested Steve for a private chat. He accepted, because he had gotten used to you doing this a little more frequently. It didn't scare him any more, he just thought of it as making conversation, taking advantage of this connection you had with each other. So when you requested, who was he to say no.

When the chat log opened, you put on your best happy face for Steve, trying to conceal how fatigued this week, today in particular, had made you. But your tired, bleak voice gave it all away, buried deep beneath your smile,

"Hey, Steve."

Steve was surprised at the sound of your voice. Again, while he understood that you wouldn't be a happy go lucky fairy like personality all the time, he wasn't expecting this. You were smiling, but the weariness in your eyes was hard to miss. And your voice, which usually told light hearted tales, sounded worn down as if from tragedy. He was concerned, his eyebrows furrowed gently,

"Hi. How are you?"

"I'm good!" you exclaimed, trying your hardest to really sound "good."

But you were just tired. Tired and sad, and scared - scared of what the future had to hold. You were already dealing with school stress, and the text from your ex-boyfriend was like a bad omen, an anxiety-provoking assurance that things actually would not get better and they would in fact get progressively worse. You weren't even sure why you thought you should be talking to Steve if you were tired and just wanted to sleep off the weight of the week. It would be a weekend tomorrow, and one of your very rare days off.

Maybe you figured that you wanted to talk to him despite your fatigue, because conversation with Steve was a nice distraction. You had let yourself forget that this was still your job, and that you were too tired for anything sexual — you knew he liked talking to you, but you hadn't put into consideration the fact that he might request a sexual act from you. You would be burnt out if he did. The fact that you didn't think about that should've been telling, but your brain was too scattered to think straight.

Anyway, Steve called your bluff, and laughed quietly, his voice inquiring and pressing,

"How are you really?"

That was all it took to get a deep sigh to come from out of you, all it took to allow yourself to show your true feelings, at least the surface of them, what you felt comfortable showing a customer. You felt a sense of relief and gratefulness for Steve, like he was letting you breathe. And if anything, he especially wasn't enlisted to listen to your problems. But he wanted to, and for that you felt foolishly grateful.

Steve noted the deep sigh that came from out of you, and he frowned slightly. He could tell you had been holding this in for a while, and some part of him felt remorse for the fact that even though you clearly weren't in the right mindset, you went on and did your show anyway. He felt some guilt for being a part of the reason why you did your show.

You answered, allowing your voice to be as honest as possible.

"Honestly?" you chuckled a little, albeit bitterly. "I don't know if you really want to hear me rant to you."

Steve shook his head.

"Don't be silly," he grinned. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

You felt a warm rush in your chest from the reassurance, and the corner of your lip quirked up in a small smile, before you decided to dive in. You'd spare the emotional details, spare your private life. But it would be nice to talk to someone, just about the general things, right?

"Well, it's been a pretty stressful week, honestly. I mean, school's been the main source of my stress. My professor's such an asshole, he's basically been telling me my entire senior project, which I need to complete to graduate, needs to be redone? And I can't even fathom how I would have enough time to do that with like, two and a half months left of my senior year. I mean, he said I can keep most details, but I'd have to rework it, whatever that means."

You kept your emotions at bay, sighing in annoyance just at the story you told, because it really was irritating you. But then you felt deeper things, even more went into why you really were upset.

Steve nodded, just listening. He was prepared to offer advice, but in your situation, he thought that maybe just letting you rant would be best.

"That's gotta be annoying," he shook his head understandingly. "Whatever your project is, I'm sure it's wonderful. He shouldn't be forcing you to rework it or make any last minute changes."

"I know!" you nearly jumped up, feeling amped up now. "And it's just so fucking annoying because I work so hard and I'm really passionate about this project and it just feels like..."

It felt like you were about to overflow, like a pot of water that had been left on for too long. You were ranting almost uncontrollably now, maybe because of the fact that it was more than this that was tugging at you. Because you'd been carrying the weight of your life on your shoulders all the time, like Atlas carrying the sky, and it felt like that weight was finally starting to mean something.

Steve could see you were unraveling and he let you, he let you take the time you needed to feel everything you had been holding. If your connection was strong, it was at its strongest here. Sure, you and Steve chatted about a little bit of everything, even had deeper conversations here and there as the weeks went by. But you had yet to genuinely complain to him, because every time you spoke with him, you were happy go lucky Moonrose, with nothing to complain about to begin with. But now, you needed a release by any means, and you were just glad Steve was there for you, even if he wasn't really there. How unlike you to unfold in front of strangers.

Your breath stuttered as you took in a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm down, only further driving yourself into your rambling. You felt yourself tear up, your voice becoming watery as you continued,

"It just feels like all my work is turning to shit, and it's so fucking frustrating because I work so hard all the time, I do so much and I manage so much all the time."

The "hard work" you were talking about wasn't just school and work-related, it pertained to your journey, and how hard you had worked to be a better person. To support yourself. The emotions pent up inside of you, they were more than just being upset over a school project. The idea of someone toxic trying to re-enter your life, someone who had forced you to rework the entirety of your life, made you feel like you were on the verge of crashing. You knew better, but you didn't want to return to those dark days, where the light at the end of the winding tunnel that was your relationship seemed so far away. It was why you were so weary of relationships today. It was crazy how one person could change your life so easily.

Now you were crying, before you even noticed that you were crying. Tears just seemed to leak out of your eyes, sloshing wet and sudden against your cheeks and underneath your lashes. You wiped them away quickly with the back of your hand, frazzled at the fact that you were crying in front of a customer right now. Steve said he'd listen to you, he didn't say he'd watch you cry and be your therapist. You instantly regretted it, although you couldn't stop yourself, tears threatening to emerge again. If you were cracked before, you were spilling now.

Steve was surprised too, at the fact that you were crying. You appeared so put together to him, it was almost something he didn't expect from you. He was in shock at first, so much so that professionalism was not on his mind - it was an afterthought. Right now, instead of wondering if this was appropriate, he was occupied with you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, but you still hadn't stopped, tears falling out as you blinked. Composure was nothing now, you were sobbing, your shoulders slumped and your head hung as you sniffled. Still you enforced control, wiping away every tear that fell with the back of your hand. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to cry to you over this, that's so-"

Steve cut you off, shaking his head slowly,

"It's okay to cry, doll. We all have those days. I know better than anyone that we all have those days."

You mustered a smile, feeling cared for, feeling accounted for by someone who wasn't even obligated to have to see you like this. Still you shook your head, sniffling,

"I know. But it's-it's stupid, I shouldn't be crying in front of you."

"I'm not judging you," Steve said, so nonchalantly and firmly, so genuine that it almost scared you.

You blinked. He should've cared, and he should've judged you. To cry in front of Steve, a customer, was to imply he had some duty to comfort you when he probably just wanted a show. You knew that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but even you had rules when it came to what your customers got to see, and to you, that meant they didn't have to deal with your blues.

"Really?"

"Really," he reassured you with a nod.

Was Steve scared that by giving you this reassurance, this entire situation could become deeper than either of you could handle? Yes. But did he let himself shut down because of those pervasive thoughts that he might get himself into trouble? No. He didn't see you as a liability right now. Right now, even though the situation was certainly questionable (and this was something he had no doubt about. When emotions get into the mix, things could get tricky- he knew this), he saw you as someone who desperately needed someone to talk to. Maybe it wasn't smart of you to make him that someone, but regardless, he was, and who was Steve Rogers not to listen to a person in need?

You blinked away the last of your tears and swallowed hard. You were making this choice consciously, to tell Steve what had really gotten you to your breaking point. And maybe telling him meant you had trust in him, maybe too much trust for someone who, while great, was still a customer. But you felt like there was nothing you could lose from telling him. Maybe you'd even feel better after the fact.

You looked down, picking at the body glitter on your arm that you had applied before the show. Your voice was considerably quieter now perhaps because you were looking back on the moment with a clear mind for the first time since it happened. You hadn't been thinking straight ever since you received the text just hours ago. Now your brain was a little quieter with the help of your tears and Steve's reassurance.

"I think that the stress of this school project is making me resent how hard I work for everything, just to be met with this kind of result, you know? And it's even worse when... things seem to be going backwards. You know, like when you make so much progress, moving on from things that don't serve you, and you've finally done it and you get to flourish in it and then, it just gets taken away from you. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but that's just how this feels."

Steve nodded, his jaw ticking as he let your words settle in. Somehow, although your situation was so different from his, he felt like your words perfectly described how he felt with the world sometimes. It was even part of the reason he'd held off on talking to you like this, held off on getting too involved. He too had made so much progress in this world, which took so much getting adjusted to in a way that absolutely nobody else could relate to.

It was a world that he didn't even know, a world that he had never been properly introduced to. He'd had to fend for himself. He did his healing on his own, just like you had. And yet sometimes it felt like he had no control, like the universe was going the opposite way of all his plans. Then he felt stupid for even having plans to begin with, because in life, making plans was like comedy for the gods.

There was a weird feeling in his chest and stomach, like he'd been stabbed with a gutting realization, and the knife was just turning inside of him, churning his insides. He began to feel a sense of unease, because this deep conversation was beginning to feel incredibly personal. Even though you were talking about your own situation, he couldn't help but think about how much he resonated, and the fact that he felt like he could relate to you on such a deep level scared him. This was more than the conversations you'd had before, more than the simple similarities you and Steve shared. This felt like a conversation that might be too telling for his good and your own.

He swallowed his words as he listened to you continue. You chose your words carefully, but you had shed yourself of your inhibitions when it came to being truthful.

"Earlier... I heard from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. And it kind of pushed me over the edge," out of your mouth stumbled a laugh. You were calmer now, and looked up at the camera, Steve swallowing hard when you did so. It was all so real, just like it was when you touched yourself and moaned Steve's name. "I think it just made me feel all those things I just explained. Because I feel like I worked so hard to rid myself of this person and them trying to come back just feels like all the things I worked so hard on are going to unravel. Even though I know they aren't, it feels like a setback. And that was like, the icing on the cake to this already terrible day, I guess."

You let out a breathy laugh and smiled gently, shaking your head slowly.

"I normally wouldn't be telling this to a customer. But here we are. Again, I'm sorry... I feel like I shouldn't have said anything? Should I... have said anything?"

In the brief silence that followed your question, both you and Steve were thinking the same thing - were you going to regret this? Intimacy both physically and emotionally was good when you capped it at what you both knew to be appropriate. When it came to the physical aspects, you each let your fantasies unwind.

And on the emotional aspect, though you had both grown closer and more open, some things just didn't get touched upon. But now you had just cried over the screen, and spoke from the depths of your heart. It was scary to open up in such an uncertain situation where your own privacy was an aspect that got involved. There was no doubt that it was too much. It was just a question of whether the result would be negative.

Steve sighed deeply, a crease forming in his forehead as he furrowed his brows together, folding his arms over his chest.

"I don't know..." he trailed off, took a breath, a leap, his body practically lurching forward. "But... it can't be a bad thing that you feel comfortable talking to me about this, can it?"

And there it was, that glint of hope he was trying his hardest to conceal. That feeling he got when he got off that call with you, the one where you both started giving into those unspoken thoughts. That this couldn't be so bad, that you could enjoy each other's company without worrying.

You smiled gently,

"I guess. It does feel weird though, it's not something I normally do. It feels like something I shouldn't be doing."

You could hear Steve breathing in deeply, and for a moment, you imagined what he might look like, envisioning the outline of a troubled face, eyebrows knit together. You snapped back to reality and made a face, confused by your abrupt thoughts. You had long gotten over the very brief desire to see Steve's face- why was it coming back again?

"I'll be honest, same here," Steve agreed with your sentiments.

"Do you always feel like you have to restrain what you say when you talk to people? Or is it just with me?" you added that last part in a quiet voice, biting your lip.

Steve chuckled briefly,

"Are you asking me if I have trust issues? Because I'd tell you, but I'd have to trust you to do that."

You shook your head and laughed at Steve's stupid joke, and shrugged.

"I could say the same thing, I think. This person I heard from earlier is... I developed those trust issues because of them. Or, my already existent trust issues became worse. But what's funny about it is that this person was once someone that I loved," even as the words were coming out you questioned why you were letting them, why you were allowing yourself to be so truthful in a situation like this at a time when you were so vulnerable.

Steve didn't reply, again feeling that sick feeling in his stomach that stemmed from his fear. The fear that this conversation were too serious, fear surrounding the fact that he was able to relate so much to such a personal situation of yours.

You spoke again, daring to ask the question that felt like a final blow to Steve's stomach,

"Have you ever been in love, Steve?"

Now Steve knew he was in uncharted territory. Not because he feared you might try to exploit him, but because he was so struck by the fact that he had allowed himself to feel so safe with you and get so close to you. He was surprised at himself for letting you feel safe enough to have these kinds of conversations with him. It all felt like a mistake now. He wanted a way out, any way out. He knew if he even attempted to answer that question, he would be making a big mistake. He had shared some of his most intimate moments with you, but always keeping in mind a very sharp line he didn't want to be crossed.

And in his mind, he thought of the one love he'd had, the one love that hadn't been fulfilled because of the situation he had been thrown into, one he had never signed up for. He thought of how the things he cared most for in life had been discarded, how, like you, he felt like it had gone to shit. How sometimes, though he tried his best to be grateful and had taken that journey of self-healing just like you, it all felt like some sick joke.

Could he even call it love? He wasn't sure. And he wasn't going to answer. He wasn't going to answer at all, because he wouldn't be talking to you again. There would be no chance for this dilemma to resurface, not with you, not on this site. He made the decision with haste and a heavy heart - he was done here.

The discomfort was well evident in his voice, answering loud and clear, though his voice was morose and a bit closed off. You sensed the shift immediately.

"I... I can't talk about that right now. Listen, I have to go."

You felt a pang in your chest at the sudden switch in his demeanor, straightening up and trying not to frown. All this time you had been letting the words spill out, telling yourself not to worry so much, reassuring yourself it was okay to make your feelings known. Now it felt like you should've never said anything at all. You started to stammer.

"Oh, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I was just... I feel like I got a little overwhelmed." You laughed nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Steve felt his throat ran dry as he blinked, feeling emotions come up to surface that he wasn't quite familiar with. Maybe he was grieving in advance, regretting the decision he was making to no longer speak with you, regretting the fact that he was letting fear get in the way of what he wanted so badly to be a good thing.

"No, I'm sorry. I feel like I let things go too far," Steve apologized, but the apology felt more like an insult.

Was he implying that whatever this was, you couldn't handle it, and that it was his fault for somehow leading you on? You had both made the connection with each other, it was an equal effort. And why was he acting like the two of you communicating at all was somehow below him, somehow a risk? If anything, you were the one risking it just by talking to him the way you did. You were opening up to him.

You almost felt betrayed - you had convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to listen to your problems and you told yourself it wasn't his responsibility to listen. And then he listened anyway, told you that he wanted to hear it, and you cried to him. You felt like you had made so many unusual accommodations just for him to scare off like this. He was just another person you had expressed your feelings to, only to regret it in the end.

"Too far?" you questioned, furrowing your brows.

Steve swallowed. In your voice he could hear a hint of frustration, but even worse- hurt. It pained him more than he cared for you to know.

"I don't think we should talk anymore," he said instead.

"What?" you were taken by surprise. "Steve, I'm... I'm not understanding. I... I don't usually open up to people like this, I mean, I thought maybe it was fine here, because I feel like I know you. But you're still a stranger. I understand you're a customer but I thought we were talking, I thought we broke through that wall-"

"We did. And we shouldn't have," Steve said, his voice so calm and firm that it was almost cold.

By now you were just staring into the computer camera, as if you were looking at him and waiting for him to come to his senses. But as you did that, you slowly came to your own. Because you weren't looking at him. You were looking at a black screen with his voice behind it. You realized you hadn't known Steve, not enough to talk about these things. And just like him, you too were full of regret. You kept all those walls up for the sake of customer relations, only to put them down and be met with this disastrous result.

Steve almost couldn't bare to look at your face anymore. You were confused, hurt. He could tell you regretted the fact that you had opened up. He was hurt too, but he wouldn't show it, or let it overcome him to the point where your methods of communication with each other became something neither of you could control. Still, yes, he was hurt.

But he had been through plenty of hardships in life. What was one more, even if it shouldn't have come to this point anyway?

"I'm sorry, Moonrose. We can't. Goodbye."

Chat over.

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert #reader insert #smut #captain america civil war #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america smut #captain america #girls on film #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel reader insert #steve rogers series #captain america series

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disarmingly · 7 years

Text

fanfic asks i’m going to post answers in numerical order as i got some numbers asked twice which is cool but i definitely am the idiot who will lose track if i don’t do it in number order! also i’ll throw it under a read-more bc i tend to get rambly and so it all gets quite long! like seriously i apologize i wanted to give it my all but like i may have written too much >_<;;;

i'm gonna preface with: i was confused by these first two because i thought is this the same question but then figured maybe 3 was ff and 4 is not ff? T_T;;;;

3 [ name three favorite writers ]

the truth is i admire a lot of people and not all of them actually post their work unfortunately. however, xiajin ( @j-ungah) is one who does, for which i am very grateful. it's easier though for me to say the THINGS i like best i.e. i really admire people who do humor in…how do i say it? ah well it's best for me when it's fluid within other feelings -- like the lightheartedness makes the punches and ups and downs of other aspects of their stories just shine? i am fairly unskilled with lightness/humor and i am repeatedly and eternally in awe of people who weave that facet of the heart into their narratives so believably. ^^;; i also admire what i think of as a seven-sense experience -- which is to say something about a writer whose descriptions dialogues and everything in-between??? create a thing i feel hear smell taste see, yes, but also a thing i dream, i thing i wake up to or from….that kind of suspension of my reality. ^^;;; which just smacks of escapism i know hahakjsfsdlfds OTL but it is what i like! some other part of why i don't have a lot of names rn is that when i'm focusing on writing i don't read as much fic? and on the flipside when i'm not trying to write then i read like everything under the sun thrice over ^^;;; but i've been in writing/trying to write-mode since i posted This Time Around so…yeah!

4 [ name three authors that were influential to your work and tell why ]

this is really hard! but i left out one writer on my past book rec list so i'll mention him here. john steinbeck! i know that most people/schools/etc tout him for grapes of wrath T_T;;; but like….i tried really hard to like it for a friend who is basically married to that book and i just…couldn't? i tried with of mice and men too but that book is like being beaten up by the written word and no one to patch you up afterward. but. BUT! let. me. tell. you.

east of eden

this book is falling apart like i've read it until it's shreds and i don't wanna give up the copy i have because like…i have so many notes in it? i have dates written down and things i don't remember ever writing or what they reference but getting a new one would be like…idk i can't do it yet. i'll have to soon just bc i carry it around everywhere and i need it but..this book, warrants steinbeck being mentioned in and of itself. if you haven't read it, i cannot rec it enough. like i am not honestly a huge fan of anything outside of fantasy or science fiction but this is my exception. no amount of applauding is going to do it justice. but suffice to say he's got this wickedly good balance of ideas, execution, emotion, and rationale and i just feel so much it is a book that HURTS and yet i kind of…what's it like? it's like if it took me years and years to climb a tree just to see what i can see from the top, then learning to climb back down. sitting under that tree. feeling…like a conversation happened?

T_T i ramble but yeah. john steinbeck's east of eden.

other than that: diana wynne jones, CLAMP (cries forever), cs lewis

6 [ how did writing change you? ]

before i wrote i drew and i painted, which i find hilarious now because lolololol what IS visual art, it’s hard work and talent hybridized with quality hearts (me: /stares at all my fave fanartists for real) kdsfdsfdlsfjlds but yeah uh writing happened because i loved reading. i thought: these things make me feel less displaced in the universe, if only a little. ah well, more to the point, writing in and of itself changes me in every day life almost to a fault: i think a LOT about what i say, even when i’m perceivably rambling. i over-think it too. writing in every-day life makes even the most awkward cat potato (me) better able to hold a normal conversation, which come to that isn’t the MOST important thing, but it is a thing that changed because before writing i basically stood still and tried to hide in my own shadow (unsuccessfully btw.) now i stand very still, hope no one talks to me, but am able to at least talk back if they do ^^;;

if this question means how did ff writing change me otherwise...is it stupid to say on several times, writing ff has saved me? is it melodramatic? probably. i think it does though. i’ve said several times i don’t do wonderfully in-person (ability to converse even so) and it’s painfully true. i don’t know that i believe i ever will. i’m in plainest terms, too afraid. ff writing has given me opportunity to connect with people despite my shortcomings in this way though. sometimes someone says they related to a certain thing or they feel content or a familiar sadness but not in a bad way and that is So Much to me. like can you imagine being in complete darkness and seeing a small light in the sky or the ground or the sea suddenly? that’s what those are.

so writing is helping me change, i hope, from someone who has had the growing fear of being lost forever, to being a little less lost, a little less unworthy. to be fair, writing in and of itself for me is often a lost feeling but those sparks of Found are irreplaceable and whether they happen when i write or when someone responds to the writing, i carry them with me to the best of my ability. because they’re precious. because i need them. and i’m grateful.

writing separate from ff is something i also hope will change me, but i have yet to figure out a way to share that and for now i have a lot of stories on my Intentions to try to actualize, so my side poetry is a sidecar project and that’s okay.

11 [ do you listen to music when writing? ]

yes! in fact i tend to make playlists for my stories when i’m done usually consisting of what i listened to….even if that's a silly thing to do ^^;; i think about sharing them sometimes haha but it’d be linking a bunch of youtube links so idk if that’s dumb sdlkedfsoijlefdjoslk sometimes it’s bangtan and often it’s movie scores i.e. ghibli stuff ....oh and video game osts too!!! a hodgepodge!

12 [ favorite place to write ]

home because i need as much control over my environment as possible. i honestly don't understand how people can get any writing done outside in the city because it's like one massive attention-deficit lmfdlsfdsfkdsjl but kudos to the people who can…!

13 [ hardest character to write ]

LMFSLKFUOIJWFLSK gosh um…i think for me the way i would phrase this is that the character i am most nervous writing??? yoongi. he features predominantly in my writing because i find his transparency about his journey(s) relatable and something to always be grateful for. unfortunately being relatable presents the ever present pitfall possibility of projecting onto someone, which i don't want to do. even when writing him as a character, i still want him to resonate true to the real deal in as much as possible in the world created or the canon suggested. i want to do right by him, very badly, and for better or worse that means i can almost never enjoy writing him because i'm so worried the whole time. the moment of peace is when i either post or delete, but both leave an uneasy feeling if i'm honest, and perhaps that's always going to be true -- with my favorite people and my favorite ideas i guess.

14 [ easiest character to write ]

like 13 i'm cheating and changing this to the character i'm least anxious writing and that would be namjoon. i love him a lot but for whatever weird reason i'm not having heart palpitations every time i have to write a line of dialogue for him. is it because i've watched and read everything of him the most? not really. i think i've re-visited more kookie things out of all of the ot7, but namjoon has a vibe i get, a wavelength i'm on almost all the time and i can't quite explain it since it's not like i'm talking about a person i personally Know. but what i mean is, i feel like i do? he makes me feel comfortable with him at the colloquial level both verbally and emotionally so i don't overthink him as much as i do say yoongi, jungkook, and hoseok -- all beloved but also sharp points of vulnerability for me.

17 [ favorite AU to write ]

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh….well. the way it's phrased it feels like it means ongoing AU??? which would be time and again drabbles supplementary to This Time Around (the initial oneshot).... (even tho from hereon out everything else will transpire BEFORE the current chapter up lololololol way to be confusing right) but if it just means like what universe, period, huh gosh. all your stars are my stars too au probably.

20 [ favorite character to write ]

i CAN'T pick

21 [ least favorite character to write ]

i don't have one unless you count 'difficult' as leas favorite but that's really not true for me s-so...

22 [ favorite story you’ve ever written ]

?_? ahhh the story closest to my heart? tie between all your stars are my stars too verse, and this time around verse. haha i keep picking those two but honestly despite being two very different worlds the pulse is actually the same.

23 [ least favorite story you’ve ever written ]

so far away

still disappointed in myself because to this day i don't know what i can do to make it better i just know it could be and it's so specific i just don't look at it anymore. it is by far the one i've revised the most and i'm sure that's weird haha...but it means so much to me...if it was a friend in my past, this story would be the friend i should have done more for, didn’t, couldn’t, and will regret until i can either come up with an answer or just have to square with said regret and say we don’t always get it the way we want it. hm. i admit when i posted it i hoped i’d be less disappointed with myself over time, but apparently not so.

24 [ favorite scene you’ve ever written ]

T_T no idea … do you have one, anon? /waves white flag/ i guess i'm just cheating through all these asks OTL forgive me but i guess a favorite would be any scene that a reader feels connected with them/resonated personally or moved their feelings into a place or shape they didn't expect but are okay having?

25 [ favorite line you’ve ever written ]

sjflkfesdipokleds /covers face/ im really sorry i just don't…have one…ah...i can’t look too closely...but i always appreciate when readers have favorite lines and copy paste them to me any given time like it’s so nice? ;_; it’s so nice ahhh

26 [ story you’re most proud of ]

since i kinda hard passed the last two with this one huh like i guess if i can qualify this as 'story i consider deleting the least often' that would actually probably be my ONE vmin fic i wrote so far -- sidereal -- lmfdlskfdsfjdsl sidereal -- and it's not that i think it's especially good but more so that i know/ don't question what i'd change about it because it came together start-to-finish very naturally…and that's funny since i had never written them before.

27 [ best review you ever got ]

listen. every review is the best review T_T seriously every review, every bookmark's notes, every ask….(well as long as it's not mean!) ah is a use of someone else's time they did not have to give me but they did and that? that's huge. fanfic is interesting bc it's a thing done for pleasure but unlike say, fanart, there is no readily apparent way to make it marketable? so i think of those words left as review or ask or whatever… as a manner of wealth, if it makes sense, a currency of kindness motivation/encouragement and hope -- that even if i dislike my writing/ find majority fault within it at the end of the day….. there are people out there who don't dislike it too, which is amazing and a relief.

28 [ worst review you ever got ]

hmmm well tech it wasn't a review but like i have gotten a LOT of asks regarding ... .- ...- . -- . + stardrop that range from disappointment that i wrote/published stardrop at all [i knew it would garner some of this but i have haha had more than i thought] to just flat-out regret for having read any of them in the first place. now, as someone who doesn't see any time in the near future where i'll like my own writing, having someone use the words 'regret reading' are….it's upsetting. i feel silly for how much it gets to me but i'm a weak spiral of a person in many ways, so asks like that send me running to hover over the delete button all the time, not just on that story but every story. but i know LOGICALLY it's just an extreme reaction of mine so i don't follow through but yeah my fight or flight response is very much flight lolololol OTL

as for not that uh probably the smattering of asks that came through when i posted 'follow' …one of which asked why i portrayed jungkook so stalkery (as far as i'm concerned, i didn't. he admires namjoon same as some of us admire our own internet idols or whoever)

32 ... .- ...- . -- . [ alternate title for (insert story title) ]

IN fact i almost called it 'equilibrium' but while relevant that seemed too vague...

33 ... .- ...- . -- . [ alternate ending for (insert story title) ]

jungkook wakes up. jungkook wakes up and he's raining, brings his hands to his eyes and can't stop, can't speak, can't anything but rain. jungkook wakes up, curls on his side, and cries cries cries until he falls back asleep.

a moment later, the door to his room slides open. two pairs of eyes worry after him into the dark where they recognize three things: 1. jungkook may never forgive himself; 2. there is nothing either of them can do about it; 3. when the captain named namjoon and the mechanic named yoongi forced jungkook into an escape pod at just the last second, their intention was to save him but the result is not so simple.

with unpredictable caution, taehyung enters the room, jimin's hand at his back, doesn't bother to speak quietly, well-acquainted at this point with how deeply jungkook dreams, how desperately. biting the inside of his cheek, taehyung shakes his head. "what are we gonna do?" after a moment, he glances to his right as jimin brushes past him to draw jungkook's blankets up more securely around him, combs soft fingers through his sweat matted hair and says,

"the best we can."

38 [ do you reread your own stories? ]

other than to proofread? no! i'm still very immature as a writer so the reality is if i go back to read something i have a 99% likely will delete because i see all the flaws and things i want to do better but don't yet have the skill to achieve??? but i know i can't or shouldn't literally wipe everything away Just Because, so…@_@;;;

40 [ which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series ]

time and again drabbles or this time around

46 [ share a scene of a story that you haven’t published yet ]

the night of taehyung's sorting, jimin jumps out of his place at the table to go meet him but a hand circles around his wrist, holds him there. when he looks down, he finds taemin, all calculated cat expressiveness that reminds jimin of yoongi except taemin has a contradictory warmth about him. yoongi is cool to the look the touch and everything until you get inside him; then he's warmer, jimin would dare say, than he himself is, but so few people know it it's hardly worth mentioning. he blinks. frowns.

"i'm going to say hi."

"no."

jimin pulls. taemin sighs.

"do you think for a second they won't use him against you."

it's not a question and for good reason. jimin sits down again, quiet. hollow, learns at age twelve about thinking ahead and expecting the worst.

if only to protect the very best.

truth be known, he doesn't mind being a slytherin. it's easy to just say no one is trustworthy than to say everyone is. but the history of his family creates a whole additional spectrum of uncertainty. 'park' is so common a name one would think it wouldn't be so obvious except jimin's family has been in and out of the wizarding world papers for quite some time. try as they might to undo a history that predates them by decades, it's hard -- no, impossible. slytherin is one thing. heir is another. wealth. jimin is twelve but the world is much older and his so-called peers fall somewhere in-between.

anyway.

what he wants: to say hello to his dearest friend.

what he doesn't want: to bring said friend trouble, no more than he already has.

jimin looks over at taehyung, watches as hoseok helps him with his baskets and...swallows.

it hurts.

around the middle of the second month taehyung goes missing.

it's yoongi that lets jimin know, which makes jimin feel guilty all over: i should have already known.

"did they say when they last saw him?" he asks, rushing around more than he knows yoongi prefers but yoongi is loyal and yoongi is yoongi; he rushes with him, this way and that.

"hobi says yesterday, supper."

biting his lip until it bleeds, jimin experiences what a person always experiences when he knows this might be all his fault: wrenching self disgust, fear, anxiety that crawls around in the chest and twists around the heart like a curse. but feeling bad won't do anything; feeling bad won't find his best friend (who might not want to be your best friend anymore, his heart whispers and it's cold, it's distant, it's terrifying.) yoongi's hand in the sleeve of his robe jerks jimin to a stop so fast he almost trips, except yoongi holds him up while muttering a spell under his breath, the tip of his wand a sharp tap against jimin's strawberry pin (a thing he wears every day in the knot of his tie.) it lights up briefly, blue.

"if i find him before you, that'll happen."

then yoongi is gone in another direction. it makes sense. the school is offensively massive and jimin has never detested it more in his life.

growing up, jimin lived by the sea and taehyung came to visit him every other summer. they collected seashells and named all the fish they happened to find and made castles they planned to live in one day when they were older.

"this one's your room."

holding up a piece of sea glass shining aquamarine, jimin held it over the sun, turned back to face him and said, "then it's yours too."

the room of requirement is for any given thing. for taehyung he needs a place to be found and for jimin, he needs to stop losing.

it takes him two days to find the boy whose sleeping patterns he knows by heart, the boy whose dreams felt often like his own dreams when they were much smaller; it takes him two days and seven hours and forty-one minutes. but he finds him.

when he opens the door, it's some god sized gift to have taehyung meet his eyes.

it's a human sized gift to receive a careful smile.

and it's everything else to crush him in his arms and breathe him in and keep him there, everything to say,

"i'm sorry."

"me too." a pause. "those strawberries were for you," and the way taehyung says it isn't a guilt-trip. it's just him being genuinely regretful he couldn't give them to jimin the way he wanted to but this makes it that much sharper.

jimin bursts into tears.

that summer they go to taehyung's home and jimin eats every strawberry taehyung offers him, which means he gets fairly sick, but he disguises it as something else as best he can and almost doesn't feel so sick at all anyway when taehyung, wide-brimmed straw hat a halo on his head, laughs a sunrise sound and sings a sunset song. it's very windy during their visit, so jimin lays a charm on taehyung's hat to keep it from flying away.

49 [ writing advice ]

1. don’t give up. -- which for me and i guess a lot of people whether it’s art or just life, is truly the hardest. but i am constantly attempting to apply to writing what i try to apply to my livelihood: this idea that the most contemptible thing to do is to surrender. i was thinking about lord of the rings the other day and trying to figure out who i hated the most 8D;;; because my train was stuck and i was viciously trying to not freak out....anyway i kept thinking of denethor...and he’s not you know out and out a villain but he’s just so vile to faramir and on top of that he has clearly given up. he’s got this twisted saccharine doom about him that is somewhat because he’s lost his mind but he lost himself first.

i know this is a really dramatic mental deviation but it’s what i think about ^^;;; the temptation to give up is constant, it’s not a thing that goes away -- which is why i wrote ‘begin’ to address this idea that sometimes the hardest thing is to start, and then to continue in the face of a trouble that has no permanent cure. the moment you give up you lose you, and of course you lose your art. what’s that cliche??? you can’t get something for nothing. i hope that doesn’t come across condescending or bad. i just know for me i have to yell at myself all the time about it, so that’s why it’s first on the list OTL don’t give up, or in the words of bangtan: no no no not today! ^^

2. i used to believe you couldn’t force writing but i think what the more accurate way for me now is to think: i can’t force Right Writing, like it isn’t necessarily good as i throw it down initially and sometimes that’s as good as it’s going to be until i reach a point in that piece that helps me rebuild/recreate/reword the first parts that i KNEW at the time weren’t very good but couldn’t do more with...like perspective within your own narrative i guess, which can’t be gotten without pushing ahead.

so for example, i disliked everything i had with call and answer from the beginning to the end but the only way i got it all done was to write something every day a paragraph or two maybe, just to get draft one done. then i could look at it the next day to proof-read, put one part before another part, etc, etc, the things that went into making it something i could bear to post. ah so basically if it comes a little naturally that’s awesome but i know for me the most frustrating thing is not being able to control when that happens or why, and since i still want to write, this was my ‘solution’ so to speak -- write it, don’t delete it, look at it in an hour or the next day but move forward even if you’re not 1000% sure with it. like i know this doesn’t work for everyone but it is what has at the moment, kept me afloat. it’s not fun but for whatever reason, it is a method i have employed time to time. 3. write what YOU want to, not what anyone else wants you to (unless it’s like a request you’re fulfilling which case that’s up to you of course!) but in general like....i think there’s a misconception that to write big you have to write for everyone but you can connect to a lot of people by telling a very specific story -- they may not dive into every part, but if there is even one aspect of a story i feel recognized by (a moment, a turn of phrase, the resolution, the problem, whatever) then that’s often enough for me. it’s like with people, we don’t get every part of each other -- even the best of friends, or lovers or whatnot -- but the parts we do get mean so much. same for me with stories.

4. give better advice than me lmfdslkf omg

feel free to send other numbers or if i missed one let me know........omg but you probably wouldn’t want to after this huh? lmdsfijfoklfeds ^^;;; wow if you read all that uh....thank you but also i’m sorry ;; lmfdsojklefds T//////T!!!!! <3 ;3;

#haku shut up #fic asks #save me #this time around #so far away #begin #asks #stardrop #time and again #did any of this make sense #i feel dumb but i spent all this time on it hhfdskf #so i post it #OTL #t///t #hakufail #a potato cat #someone take my tags away from me

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