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zotlel · 4 years

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The Exhibition (M)

pairing: jaebeom x you (ft. jinyoung)

genre: photographer!au, smut, romance, one-shot

synopsis: You are starved for inspiration as a photography student. When visiting the anonymous photographer “Defsoul’s” exhibit you meet a like-minded boy who gives you that spark. Only you didn’t expect the night to pan out exactly as it did.

word count: 7.8k

The wide city sidewalk was packed full of people anxious to get home and start their weekends. Their hurried steps accompanied by the warm street lights were quite a sight, you thought. With a quick flash of your camera, you are able to capture the scene as is, but you were already running late. You weave in and out through the bodies because unlike them you were not going home.

This was the third year of your photography program at the city’s most prestigious university. Despite how much you loved photography, you had been stuck in a creative rut recently that you just couldn’t seem to break free from. Therefore it had become a tradition of yours starting this new school year to attend some sort of photography exhibition on Friday nights. The size of the city that you were currently studying in allowed this to be a possibility due to the ever-growing art community it had.

Your steps continue at a quick pace, but you couldn’t help your eye from wandering at the scenes around you. So hungry for any sort of inspiration, from the streets dampened with a former rainstorm to the businessman making quick work to undo his burgundy tie that had been constricting his neck. Anything. You wished for just anything to strike you with a spark.

You had finally reached your destination where the new exhibition was being held. Alone. That was the title of the photographer’s first show. The photographer in question? Unknown. The photographer was going under the alias as “Defsoul.” It was quite a trendy thing these days to have no idea whose art you were looking at. You really could not wrap your head around as to why you would not want to put your name amongst the work you are proud of. Which was also a perfect example of why you probably struggled so much creatively.

The space the photographer chose had a rather grunge vibe, photographs were arranged on the tattered brick walls and all throughout the room. The air was thick around you as soft R&B beats flowed throughout the space. Stepping into the studio, you notice that you are one of the first patrons to arrive at the exhibition. While most guests came in pairs or groups you stood small in the expansive space in solitary, you preferred it that way. Small gatherings of people were scattered throughout the different rooms, all ranging from different ages, sexes, and ethnicities. You silently complemented the ambiguous photography for having the ability to reach so many demographics. The more you walked about the studio space, the more you understood everyone’s attraction to the enthralling photos.

Each photo was supposed to emit a different sentiment, or so that is what you have learned from your classes. The photos themselves vary from different subjects, older couples holding each other close, some were expansive European landscapes, and then also the occasional stray cat stretching in the afternoon sun. You tried your hardest to interpret the photos in your own words, trying to find the connection. Alone. That was the exhibition name. So why didn’t you feel that when walking amongst the various scenes?

To you, the different film that was taken emulated a mass collection of photos taken from someone’s personal collection. There was a sense of solace in each photo that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It felt as if you were with the photographer in every photo, imagining the way they shot each scene. You had been walking around rather aimlessly through the gallery until you stopped upon one image in particular.

The photograph was no more expressive than any other photo in the gallery, but you couldn’t help stopping and staring. The scene was the back of a man, his hair slightly long and disheveled, he looks out into an extensive lake surrounded by forestry, the light of a late midday sun which illuminated the photograph. You cannot help your logical analysis of the image, and you find no flaws. The common idea surrounding photography is that it is a completely creative and artistic practice, while this isn’t false, it just so happened to also require certain formulas as well. It requires an eye for direction, proportions, and balance. This photo that fascinated you in the gallery had all of those elements.

The sound from the other patrons fades around you as you become enraptured in the photograph. It was only the scent of pure pine and spice that had you reeling back to the current moment. To the right side of you, a man stood, he wasn’t looking at you but instead he was, just as you were, staring into the alluring photo. You studied the man, he seemed to be around your age, taller than you, with dark hair that matched his sultry eyes. You admired the man’s bone structure, tall nose and cheekbones, he really was quite attractive.

The way your gaze lingered on his face must have given him a sense of being watched. Because before you could hide your stare the handsome man was shifting his face towards you, looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk dances on his features. Heat rises to the apples of your cheeks as you turn to look at the picture again, pretending like you weren’t just caught checking him out.

“What do you think?”

You turn to face him, “Excuse me?”

“About the photo,” he smiles back at you. You cough slightly trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, um-” you start carefully, “it is actually my favorite one in this exhibit I think.”

His face softens at your answer as he nods, looking back to the photo before he begins to speak again, “What’s so great about it?”

You look at the photo one more time, really analyzing it.

“I’m not sure exactly,” you say honestly. “It was the only photo that really caught my eye. Don’t get me wrong I thought all these photos were great, but this one helped me visualize what the photographer must have been witness to through his photos.”

He looks back at you with a surprised expression.

“That’s a really interesting take on the photo, I thought you just thought the man in it was attractive.”

You laugh slightly, “You can’t see much of looks from a person’s back.”

This has the man doubling over in laughter, much to your surprise. You look around the room to see if any of the other patrons are staring at the man, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the attention. Then you looked back at the man and his blinding smile and you cannot help but return the same emotion. And for the first time, in a long time, you began to feel captivated with this man.

His laughter seizes yet his smile remains as he turns his body to face you, “I am Jaebeom by the way.”

He says while extending his hand out to you. You are now able to see his entire face as you grip his hand in a greeting. To your surprise, he had a silver nose ring on his right side, along with multiple piercings all up and down his ears. It was your first time feeling such an attraction to a man’s jewelry. You blink rapidly realizing you had just been grasping his hand in silence for some time, but he didn’t seem to mind. You tell him your name before dropping your connected hands, he repeats it softly as if he was saying it for only him to hear.

“Did you come by yourself tonight?” He asks.

“Is that some form of a pick-up line?” You reply back snarkily which has the man chuckling at your playful banter.

“It’s only a pickup line if it works,” he states causing your head to nod in agreement.

“Well then yes, I am alone if you must know.”

“Fascinating. I would have definitely assumed you to just be here on a date, not actually here for the art,” he says.

You scoff, “How pretentious of you to assume such a thing,” you say.

“I’m a photography student if you couldn’t guess, so I am most definitely here for the art.”

“I meant no offense,” he holds his ringer clad hands up in a form of surrender. “It was just a simple observation due to the other people here tonight.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, you thought. The gallery was littered with different couples strolling throughout the space. Love could easily be seen in the air the minute you walked in. Not that you minded, of course. If you had allowed yourself to date you would also think to come to an art gallery like this, spending time with someone you were attracted to amongst gorgeous imagery, it was quite romantic.

“This does seem to be a hot-spot for couples tonight,” you note back to him.

“So, what would you say if I asked you to come out for a drink with me tonight instead of staying here?” He asks you.

“What, are the lovebirds kind of cramping your style?” You laugh back at his sudden suggestion.

He laughs at this before continuing, “Not necessarily. I’m just interested in you, I thought maybe a good way of getting to know more about the beautiful girl from the gallery would be over a couple of drinks.”

You smile shyly looking away from him, “I don’t know, I was kind of curious to see if this secret photographer would show themselves by the end of the night.”

“Trust me, he’s not one for introductions.”

He? You thought to yourself, how could Jaebeom know the gender of the photographer? Perhaps he had been coming to Defsoul’s exhibitions enough to have eventually met the elusive photographer.

Perhaps you should take Jaebeom up on his offer. Hell, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been out for a drink. Especially with a man as good-looking as Jaebeom. Maybe you could finally allow yourself to let loose, just this once.

“Well, in that case, you lead the way,” he smiles at your response. Jaebeom raises his hand inviting you to take hold. You do so while smiling, excited for what the night shall bring.

Jaebeom grips your hand tightly as you two make your way throughout the lamp-lit city streets. Your heart is beating wildly every time he would look back to check if you were still there, grinning when he is met with your presence. The two of you walk hand-in-hand as he tells you he is taking you to one of his favorite lounges in the city, you can’t help your excitement.

You two finally arrive at the bar, the exterior of the building is ornate in nature with vintage signage and lights decorating the brick walls. Jaebeom drops his grasp on your hand to open the large wooden door allowing you to step inside first, what a gentleman you thought. Inside the lounge the cigar smoke twisted in an elegant way, forming curls in the dim light. The room was illuminated solely by the age-speckled bar lights. Jaebeom finds an empty booth towards the back for you two to sit. A smartly dressed waiter comes around to grab drink orders and skirts away hurriedly after. You sit back a bit in your seat trying to calm your nerves by looking around the room.

You wouldn’t exactly describe yourself as an introverted person, but this definitely was a new experience for you. Coming out with a man you barely knew, to a part of town you were unfamiliar with, just for drinks. It was all so different for you, but there was something about Jaebeom that made you feel a certain sense of security. It was usually pretty easy for you to tell when a guy was a complete sleaze-bag and Jaebeom definitely did not give off that impression. Still, you couldn’t help but feel slightly shy to be with such a handsome man.

“I’m so curious to hear what you are thinking,” Jaebeom speaks up from the other end of the table.

You turn to look at him and notice his chin perched on his hand as he stares dreamily at you with his deep-set eyes. You go red as you realize he must have been studying you this entire time.

“I was just thinking about how all of this is a very new experience for me,” you respond back.

“What exactly?”

“Just this,” you emphasize your words by swinging your finger in the space between the two of you.

“I’ve never said yes to drinks with a man I had met less than an hour before.”

“You don’t say,” he chuckles. “I would imagine a girl as beautiful as you would have plenty of suitors waiting to take you out for a simple cocktail.”

You laugh at this. It’s not that men have not tried taking you out in the past, they most certainly did. You were just in a place with your life that didn’t allow you the capacity for any man. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, really. You knew that at this point in your life the things that were the most important to you were school and finding your place in the competitive field of photography. No man could ever distract you from this dream of yours.

“Even so,” you begin. “I don’t really have the time for any sort of man in my life right now.”

“So then why did you agree to come out with me?” Jaebeom asks you.

That was a good question, why did you say yes? Despite the fact that Jaebeom had been one of the most attractive men to ever approach you, you wondered what it was about him that pulled your attention so strongly.

“I’m not sure why exactly it’s kind of hard to explain,” you say. “I just feel comfortable in your presence.”

This was something new to hear for Jaebeom. Mysterious, chic, sexy. These were all things Jaebeom was used to hearing from women, but “comfortable” was new. Little did you know, you were also a new experience entirely for him. The other women Jaebeom had encountered in his life felt like nothing more than a shallow quest for lust or domination with him. But you, he wanted to know so much more about the girl sitting across from him. Your dreams, inhibitions, fears. He could listen to you ramble on all night.

“I feel the same way,” he replies back coolly, to which you beam back a tender smile.

The rest of the night with Jaebeom is filled with giddy conversation between the two of you, both anxious to learn more about the other. You share with him things that some of your closest friends did not even know about you, but that was the power he held. He somehow was able to fluster you like a shy schoolgirl and yet hold your hand so sincerely that it felt as if you had known him for years. Drinks and conversation flowed throughout the few hours you spent with him at the lounge, effectively easing all your anxiety.

Once the two of you got onto the topic of photography there was no stopping the excitement. You could see in his eyes he loved it just as much as you, but ultimately he feared he was not good enough to be professional. You related closely to this worry, also sharing the hardships you faced with the creative aspect of it all. The way Jaebeom was able to relate so deeply to you on this issue made him all the more attractive to you, but that could also be the drinks talking.

“Of course you also make music,” you laugh at the man across from you at his recent confession.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He gawks back at you.

“Nothing offensive really,” you begin.

“It just fits your whole image you know. The gorgeous man I met at the exhibit is also incredibly deep and creative,” you joke with him.

He smiles and nods his head understanding that to most people he appears that way. Not that he minded, of course, he just wished sometimes he wasn’t so easy to read.

“Gorgeous, huh?”

He completely ignores your other statements to instead put you on the spot, but to his surprise, you don’t seem the least bit bashful. Instead, you take a long sip from your drink before setting it down with a soft thud. Looking him in the eye as if to say, “Did I stutter?” Jaebeom smirks and breaks his eye contact, absentmindedly twirling the small cocktail straw in his almost empty glass.

“I want to hear your music,” you say breaking him from his trance.

He looks up to see you leaning in on the table excitedly, a small flame of mischief burning behind your eyes.

He leans in towards you, “Really?”

You nod.

“Well then, let’s get out of here.”

You knew just as well as anyone what it meant to go back to his place and listen to his music, but that was exactly what you wanted. Jaebeom hails over the waiter closing up your tab before you both exit the bar to the crisp Autumn night air. As if on cue, a taxi pulls in front of where the two of you stood, allowing a handsome young couple to exit its backseat. Jaebeom takes the opportunity, seizing the door open for you to step into the now emptied seats of the taxi. He joins in after you quickly telling the older man who was driving the taxi his address.

The ride began innocently enough. Silent, as you two sat next to one another, too nervous to make eye contact. Because you knew as soon as you looked, things would take a drastic turn, but you were always too curious for your own good. You turn your head slightly to catch Jaebeom looking at you, not in your eyes, but everywhere else. From the way that your legs were crossed to your innocently folded hands in your lap, the curves of your body, the long expanse of your neck, until finally, into your lust-filled eyes. That was all it took.

Jaebeom was the first to snap, instantly latching his hand onto the back of your neck in order to bring your lips onto his. You more than happily obliged bringing your own hands to rest on his taut shoulders, molding your lips unto his. The connection was everything you imagined. Hot, rushed, and oh so gratifying. You could taste the deep bitters of his drink as his tongue danced across your lip, your own tongue eager to meet his. He groaned into your mouth once he felt the connection which in turn had you draping a leg across his lap attempting for your bodies to be closer. You felt somewhat sorry for the cab driver, but you mostly didn’t care.

Jaebeom grips your leg that is draped over him feeling the soft flesh beneath your tight jeans. God, he only imagined what you looked like completely exposed to him. The thought had to wait as the two of you could feel the car come to an abrupt stop, followed by an awkward cough from the front seat. You both break free and stare into each other’s dark gazes, unable to shake the overwhelming amount of lust. It took a second clearing of the cab driver’s throat to snap the trance and leave his car. Jaebeom handed the man the cab fare, being sure to tip him generously, before exiting the car and extending a hand out to you. You take it graciously after saying a quick “thank you” to the driver.

Once outside the cab, the pace of the evening leveled out. Jaebeom, now calm and collected, takes your hand in his, smiling at you briefly before guiding you to a rather expensive-looking building. It was late at night when you two arrived, yet upon entering the bright lobby you notice a rather well-dressed attendant sitting modestly behind a large desk. She looks up from her desk to see who had entered. Upon gazing at Jaebeom she stands and bows her head silently in a form of saying “Welcome.” Jaebeom smiles politely at her while still having you in tow towards the titanium elevator doors. They open upon his touch of the button allowing you both to step inside.

The feeling of being next to Jaebeom in the elevator versus the taxi was entirely different. While the backseat of the taxi was filled with nothing but lust for one another, the elevator was quiet. Utter silence from you both as you anxiously spare looks to one another. Whenever one of you caught the other’s eye it would be hard to hide your bashful smiles. Your stomach was doing flips in expectancy of what was to come. The doors part, you had arrived.

Jaebeom enters his apartment with relative ease, despite his nerves making it difficult to punch in his door code. Once the two of you were inside is when he finally began to speak, “Can I offer you anything to drink? Wine? Water?”

“Wine sounds lovely, thank you,” you respond back.

He smiles, “Wine it is. Please make yourself at home while I go get us some glasses.”

Then he is off, leaving you to wander about his apartment curiously. It was relatively a clean place, or rather there just wasn’t much furniture in general. Simplistic and chic. You couldn’t think of a more fitting apartment for Jaebeom. You walk about the space coming unto what seemed to be a living room with a single black leather loveseat and a computer desk against the opposite wall. You make your way over to the couch sitting down gently.

Not long after, Jaebeom appears from the doorway holding two glasses of a deep red wine. He chuckles nervously extending one glass to you. Jesus, he was so endearing. You take the glass with a small smile and thank him, bringing the bitter liquid to your lips.

“Did you still want me to play you some of my work?” Jaebeom asks nervously, still standing above you.

You had almost completely forgotten that was the whole reason you wanted to come. You were too enraptured by the beautiful man’s aura.

“Yes please, play me something,” you say excitedly.

He takes a sip of his wine and smiles before turning his back and walking towards the computer. He types away for about a minute before a soft melody can be heard throughout the room. You look to see speakers installed all around your head creating a hypnotic atmosphere. You close your eyes and sway, finding yourself getting lost in the beats and pretty vocals of his song. It isn’t until you feel a dip in the seat next to you that you open your eyes to see the expectant face of Jaebeom at your side.

“You really made this?”

“Yeah, that’s my voice if you can’t tell,” he replies nervously bringing a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“I don’t know as much about music as I do photography, but this is really good,” you say to him which has him chuckling and shaking his head. “No, really I mean it.”

He looks up at you to see that you were in fact being genuine. He felt more proud then than at any other moment he could remember. Jaebeom sets his wine glass down on the coffee table next to yours before turning his full attention towards you, tucking a soft hair behind one of your ears.

“You’re really something, did you know that?” He asks you, with a voice just barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest at the sudden close proximity, but God did you love this man’s presence. You leaned slightly into his hand that was still hovering near the side of your face, allowing him to cup your cheek affectionately.

“That’s funny,” you say. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He’s smiling at you now, staring deeply into your shining eyes. The self-control he had completely left him at that point. He leans into you slowly, allowing you time to register what was about to happen. You close the gap, kissing him softly. He sighs into the kiss, languidly moving his lips against yours while at the same time grabbing your hips to move your body closer. You reciprocate and bring it a step further, throwing one leg over his lap to straddle his thighs, never once breaking apart your lips.

He takes a shaky breath the minute your body softly grinds onto his. God, he was intoxicating. You were so eager to elicit more responses from him, to watch him come undone, so you snake your hands into his long hair, earning an appreciative moan. You can’t help but whine at the sound, wanting nothing more than to feel his body pressed against yours.

Jaebeom seems to know your thoughts exactly because in one moment he is sweeping you up off of the couch, legs still fastened tightly around him, making his way towards what you can only assume to be his bedroom. He would stop occasionally to press you against a nearby wall, breaking from your lips he would decorate your neck in soft kisses. The scent of his musky cologne exhilarating your thoughts. Finally, he reaches his bedroom, dropping you down to your feet softly with a thud.

“I want you,” he breaths out onto your abused lips.

“Then you can have me,” you whisper. “All of me.”

He groans at your response as it seems they were the exact words he wished to hear. Swiftly Jaebeom grabs at your top peeling it off over your head leaving you clad in a simple black bra. If you had known you would be seen naked tonight you would have opted for something a little sexier, but Jaebeom doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, his head instantly drops to your cleavage, pushing your breasts eagerly up into his face as he begins to kiss and suck at your skin surely leaving marks for you to remember him by. You breathe out at the sensual feeling, greedy to feel his skin against your own.

You reach below him to tug at his black t-shirt hinting at how much you wanted it off of his body. He understands, breaking away from your chest to pull his shirt over his head. His chest is broad and milky, illuminated from the streetlights outside his bedroom window. You can’t help yourself, bringing a hand to rest against the middle of his chest. You felt him, all of him. The warmth, the sweat, the anticipation, all of it rested just below your fingertips. Slowly you drag your hand lower, noting the shiver that ran through Jaebeom’s body at your soft caresses. You reach his belt, playing with it you look up at him through your lashes, batting them innocently.

“Fuck-” he says. “If you keep looking at me that way, I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling him closer by his belt loop. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You have no idea where this sense of confidence has come from. Normally during sex, you tend not to be much of a talker, letting the man do as he pleases. Tonight felt different from all those nights before. Jaebeom made you a different person, someone who felt bold enough to take control. You liked this person he created, and he seemed to be just as pleased.

He smirks at you, enjoying your teasing nature, he pulls you flush against his skin. He holds your eye contact for a moment before firmly turning your body so that your back meets his chest. You gasp as you feel him move your hair to the side, decorating lustful kisses along your shoulder and neck. His hands find purchase on your hips, greedily massaging them while also forcing your ass to grind onto his already stiff cock straining against his jeans. You moan at the feeling, taking pride in the effect you had on him.

“Do you like that, baby?” He asks you. “The feeling of my hard cock against you?”

The man could talk dirty, you thought, could he be any more attractive?

You don’t reply with words. Instead, you grind your backside harder against him, causing a hiss to fall from his lips. You lull your head back dreamily, getting lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, both of you ravenous for any sort of friction. While his hands stayed firmly on your hips you took this opportunity to grab at one of his hands, bringing it upward to your chest, encouraging Jaebeom to massage your breasts. He happily obliges, feeling up your warm body with his rough hands, your scent invigorating his mind.

“I want you to strip for me, then go lay on the bed,” Jaebeom softly commands in your ear, effectively snapping you out of your daze.

There was something about his assertive tone that sent heat straight to your core, you were so eager to feel him there. He takes a step away from your body allowing you space to remove your clothes, and you do so. You look over your shoulder at him to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, anticipating your show. You reach down for the button of your jeans undoing it in a slow and sultry way until you are able to strip the fabric down your legs.

Jaebeom intently watches your scantily clad figure which in turn gave you the confidence to continue. You put on a bit of a show with your movements, matching your swaying hips to his music that could still be heard inside the bedroom. Once you step your feet out of your jeans you turn your body so it is facing his. There is still a bit of space between your bodies, but the tension is extreme. You reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, taking one strap between your fingers as you allow the bra to drop.

Upon seeing your bare chest a fire ignites behind Jaebeom’s eyes. You smirk, with still swaying hips, you hook two fingers into your panties. Turning once more to give him a view of your backside, you dance your way out of the soft material, letting it gather around your feet. Finally, now completely bare, you make your way to his large king bed adorned with fresh white sheets. Crawling on all fours up the bed, making sure to arch your back for the best view, you flip your body onto the bed awaiting his arrival.

Jaebeom drinks this all in. The music, fragrances, lights, visuals, and the ambiance of seeing your bare body lay upon his white sheets, decorated purely by the moonlight. Without waiting for a second longer he rids himself of the last of his clothing, pushing his jeans and boxers down with haste. He walks to the foot of the bed, softly caressing your calves as he climbs up the expanse of your body. Your eyes meet his hazily, running your gentle hands along his forearms until his forehead is resting softly against yours.

“Can I taste you?”

Your mind is in a haze at his request, but who were you to say no?

Your head nods at his request and he smiles. Kissing your lips passionately before dragging them lower and lower down your body. Occasionally Jaebeom would nip and suck on parts of your skin, causing your body to tremor. Until finally you began to feel his heated breaths over your core. You gripped the sheets expectantly, unconsciously tensing your body in anticipation. He gives each of your thighs one last kiss before licking a strong tongue through your core.

You moan instantly, surprised by how sensitive you were from just one touch. Jaebeom doesn’t stop, he grabs hold of your thighs effectively throwing them over his broad shoulders. At first, his licks are long and languid, causing your hips to fall in motion with his tongue. Once he begins to feel your thighs tense at the sensations he picks up his pace, switching from licking up your core to occasionally wrapping his lips around your clit.

You feel electric waves throughout your body at his movements. At one particular suck, you moan out into the night, threading a hand through Jaebeom’s hair, which in turn has him groaning into you. He too was lost in the pleasure he was giving you. From your scent to your heavenly moans he couldn’t stop himself from grinding down against his mattress eager for some relief on his achingly hard cock.

“Jaebeom please, I need to feel you inside of me, please,” you manage to moan out wanting nothing more than for your bodies to become one.

Although Jaebeom wanted so badly to see your body come undone from his tongue alone, he too was starting to get impatient. One last suck to your clit before he is climbing back up your body, greedily you reach for him and connect your lips. He moans at your soft sucks against his tongue, desperate for you to taste your own arousal.

Shockingly, you are able to flip your bodies over allowing you to climb on top of Jaebeom’s beautiful body. You break away from the kiss to sit up and see him. There he was in all his glory. The stoic man from the gallery naked and heaving beneath you, so eager to be inside of you. You smile sweetly at him and he groans, taking his painfully hard cock into your hand you stroke him tenderly, to which he throws his head back in excitement. Without waiting a second longer you align him with your dripping core, slowing sinking him deep inside of you.

You release an intense sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. Jaebeom moans at the warm feeling of your pussy wrapped tightly around him, he then looks to see where your bodies meet. As if on cue you begin to sway your hips back in forth, still in rhythm with the music coming from the living room. The pace is slow and sensual, just as you like.

Jaebeom felt as if he could feel every little movement. From the way your beautiful hips swayed to your hands pressed firmly on his chest, he savored every second. His hands come to rest against your hips once again, encouraging your movements. Moans spill from your mouth as you get lost in the feeling of him buried so deep inside of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Jaebeom is blissed out in the feeling, allowing you full control; he loses himself in the moment, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the song. You too let your body take over and allow your mind to float above the two of you making love. You can hear the melody too.

난 네게 눈이 멀었고

(I became blinded by you)

넌 내게 눈이 멀었겄지

(You probably became blinded by me)

우리 서로만을 보았고

(We only saw each other)

이 세상에 둘만 있었겠지

(We probably were the only ones in the world)

Jaebeom begins to lose his patience as he can feel his end nearing. You yelp with surprise as his strong arms wrap against your frame, flipping you onto your back. You squeeze around him from his dominant change in nature, he groans at the feeling.

“I want to feel you come all around me, baby,” he tells you.

You nod back ready for him to ravish your body. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder giving him the best angle for you both. The pace from before is completely different. While you took your time with Jaebeom while you rode him, when he was on top he fucked you, hard.

Sheathing himself back inside of you so hard and fast you both scream out in pleasure. He wastes no time fucking you raw, trying to chase the high you both so desperately longed for. His movements are fast yet calculated, effectively hitting your sweet spot every time he entered you. You were desperate to hold on to reality gripping the sheets above your head as you moaned loudly. Jaebeom saw this action and instead moved your hands to his hair.

“I want you to show me how good I’m making you feel,” he says to you in his gruff voice.

You understand his wish, grabbing his hair just as tightly as he fucked you, earning an appreciative groan from him spurring on his movements further.

You felt your end coming. It was like a small fire that suddenly began to blister in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved for air as you gripped his hair even tighter, warning him. He understood.

“Come on, baby, I need to feel you come, please,” his words did just the trick.

The fire turned into an explosion as the white-hot orgasm swept through your body. You trembled in his hold as he thoroughly fucked you through your high. Once you came down you noticed his brows furrowed and his movements began to waver. You released his hair to hold him close to your body, encouraging him to let go.

He eventually reaches his own high as he drops his head to your shoulder, you hold him close as he moans out deliciously into your ear. His movements stutter as he tiredly milks his orgasm to completion. He slumps his body against yours, slick with sweat the two of you stay connected for some time attempting to calm your breaths.

Tiredly you stroke your hand softly up and down his back lullingly. You begin to feel the effect of all the alcohol in your system as you fought to keep your eyes open. Too at peace with where you were, you allowed yourself to become a victim of slumber while caressing Jaebeom’s naked frame.

When morning broke, you expected to be woken by the bright sunshine pouring into his room. Instead, the thing that woke you from your slumber was the distinct click of what you only know to be the sound of a film camera. Still naked in his sheets you turn your body over to see an equally naked Jaebeom perched at the foot of the bed with a small camera plastered to his face. The morning sun decorated his frame in the most beautiful way, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He lowers the camera slowly from his face, gauging your reaction, “Sorry I just thought you looked so perfect lying there. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head no. He smiles and climbs up his bed to be with you again in the early morning light. He lays at your side and you turn your full body to him, he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You both stay there for what felt like an eternity. Mindlessly you both would let your fingers dance along the other’s naked form, basking in the soft flesh below. The silence was infectious, filling your soul with content. You never wanted this feeling to end.

──

“Can I just say what an honor it is to be accompanying you on this gorgeous Friday night,” Jinyoung smiles at you. “The forsaken Friday nights that you would normally spend in solitude, per your own request, but I am the first one to break that tradition. Really it is a privilege.”

You laugh at Jinyoung’s over-the-top monologue. Jinyoung wasn’t wrong, he was the first person you had ever asked to accompany you on this Friday night. Your friends all knew the deal, Friday nights were for your alone time, for your creativity to rekindle.

“You are just too handsome to say no to,” you reply back sweetly, reaching up to Jinyoung planting a swift kiss on his cheek. His eyes crinkle in the most adorable fashion.

As much as you had grown and changed in the past couple of months, Jinyoung was always a constant in your life. Before you used to be so caught up in your art and finding inspiration that you never gave the cute boy from your English class the time of day. Often times Jinyoung would ask you out for the occasional coffee or study date to which you would always find an excuse not to go. It surprised you that even after all his failed attempts he even still wanted to take you out, so ultimately you agreed. You could say that perhaps you had a change of heart. Something eventually opened your eyes to his affection for you.

After walking some time the two of you finally make it to the exhibit. The words “Awake.” displayed in white neon outside the entrance. Looking to Jinyoung and smiling you both make your way through the large entryway. Subtly you feel him slide his fingers through your own, and your body heats at the affection.

It had been quite some time since Defsoul had held any sort of photography exhibition. In fact, the last one being just over six months ago. Although the photographer was still active through social media you were surprised as to why it had taken them so long to put on another show. You remembered just how much you fell in love with their work last time that you were eager to see what else they had in store.

As the two of you walk hand-in-hand throughout the gallery you instantly notice the ambiance of this show to be vastly different from the one you had attended months before. The air was lighter, the photographs themselves felt brighter than before, and even the conversations between the patrons were airier. Jinyoung would occasionally point to certain photos attempting his best at discussing the art of photography in order to impress you. You would smile at his attempts, bringing his body closer to yours the more you strolled throughout the space.

Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the night you shared with Jaebeom just months before where you met him at one of these exhibits. It had been so long since you had even thought of him or his name that you had almost forgotten. Though the feelings you felt never disappeared.

You catch yourself smiling at the memory before looking up at one of the larger displays in the studio. You stopped dead in your tracks upon looking, your breath caught in your throat as you just stared. It was you, not your face, your naked backside peeking perfectly out of his crisp white sheets, the morning sun playing through your soft hair beautifully. There you were on full display for the whole world to see.

The world around you faded as you sat and stared, Jinyoung taking notice finally to what you had been looking at, “That is gorgeous, I think this might be my favorite one so far.”

You can’t hear him as your mind was reeling a mile a minute. It was then in that moment you came to realize everything. His sheets, his bed, his room, his photograph. This was his show, Jaebeom was Defsoul. How could you have not seen it before?

You looked about the room frantically, fear striking you as you noticed the other patron’s eyes glued to the huge mural of you, Jinyoung too being entranced with the photo. Anxiety bubbled over into your stomach. That was until you saw it, the title: Muse.

You didn’t know why exactly upon reading the simple word that tears began to pool in your eyes. Again you looked around the room. You needed to see him, to confirm your thoughts. You needed to know who Jaebeom really was. Then suddenly there he stood, perfect as ever.

Jaebeom stood meters away from you and Jinyoung, the bodies of the other patrons crossed your paths as the two of you just stared at each other. He looked just as stunning as that night, that one fateful night. His gaze is soft on yours as if to ask if you were okay. You cannot answer him, still in too much shock.

Until Jaebeom looks to Jinyoung, your connected hands, and then finally you, he smiles warmly. Little did you know that this is exactly what Jaebeom wanted to see for you. Your happiness above all else. To others, what the two of you shared could easily be written off as just some other one night stand, but he knew it was so much more. He cared for you in ways he never thought he would be able to feel for another person. And so he was happy, if he couldn’t be the one holding your hand in this gallery, he was glad you had someone to take his place. You deserved as much.

A tear finally escapes your eye as you continue to gaze at Jaebeom’s sincere expression, laughing slightly you brush the tear away. You felt no anger, no embarrassment. Because what Jaebeom said was right, for that night you spent together, he too was your own muse. The spark you needed at that moment. You needed him then just as much as he did.

Without leaving his eyes, you bow your head slightly, doing something you realized you never did that night. You thanked him. He raised a wine glass in recognition. Then he was gone, swallowed into the sea of people who would never know his true identity.

“I didn’t know photography moved you that much,” Jinyoung says to you while wiping your tears away, a look of concern etched into his features.

You laugh, dropping your head bashfully before raising your eyes again to look at Jinyoung. You were so content with the way you began to live your life since meeting Jaebeom. For so long you had deprived yourself of the one thing that should have mattered the most, your happiness.

It was fate for you and Jaebeom to meet each other that night, but you knew it was only meant for that one night. Jaebeom was the trigger for you to stop living inside the constrictive box you created for yourself. You felt inspiration more than ever through your art, which in turn greatly improved your abilities. You also finally allowed yourself love, and to share that love with someone who genuinely wanted you.

Now with Jinyoung, you had never felt more at peace in not only yourself but your life. Rising to his height you capture Jinyoung’s lips with yours. He smiles against you and reciprocates your affection. This is who you were meant to be with tonight, and for every night thereafter.

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #got7 #jaebeom #im jaebeom #fanfic #smut #jaebeom fanfic #jaebeom smut #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #jinyoung

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adastra121 · 3 years

Text

Green Thumbs

Book: The Elementalists

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Wood-Att MC (I didn’t specify a gender)

Summary: Beckett struggles with a Wood magick spell, so the Wood-Attuned MC helps him understand a bit better.

A/N: So this is a short fluffy one-shot of Beckett and MC that I started writing when The Elementalists first came out (yeah, as you can tell I’m often really late with things). I had the idea when I read a line about Metal magick and Wood magick being opposites and I really wanted to explore how magick worked and why an Attuned of one type would have trouble with the other. Obviously, I didn’t expect to see something like that happen in the books, because it would be difficult to code with differently Attuned MCs, but this is how I imagined a scenario where Beckett is struggling with Wood magick and a Wood-Att MC helps him grow as an Attuned (as Wood-Atts do uwu). Also, this is told in second person from Beckett’s perspective.

Beckett could feel the frustration building up as the potted plant wilted yet again after he performed the spell. He’d always had difficulty with Wood magick, but he had been working at this spell for over an hour. This was just getting ridiculous. And it wasn’t so much that he was killing the plants, rather, the plants simply refused to work with him. Like they knew exactly what the spell intended and, by virtue of it being something Beckett wanted to happen, decided to do the exact opposite.

“Beckett,” your voice chimed from right beside him. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. Didn’t you say it was natural for Metal-Atts to have trouble with Wood magick?”

“Well, yes, I did say such a thing, but…” He ran a hand through his hair, breathing out a frustrated sigh. “Not for a Harrington. It shouldn’t be…and if I cannot master even a basic Wood magick spell like this…”

“It doesn’t make you any less of a brilliant Attuned,” you cut him off, slipping your hand in his and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

Beckett felt the flush creep up his neck when his eyes landed on your bright smile, before he glanced away and awkwardly cleared his throat. One would think that after all this time together, he would get used to your random displays of physical affection. But no, of course, Beckett would still get flustered around you like some school boy around his crush. It didn’t help that you loved to tease him about it as well, even more so after you two decided to get into a romantic relationship. Luckily for him, you decided to spare him the teasing and get straight to the feedback.

“Wood magick and Metal magick are opposites,” you continued. “It makes sense why an Attuned specializing in one would find the other difficult. I know it took me a while to get Metal magick down.” You let out a little laugh to yourself. “Or any magick, for that matter.”

Beckett bit back a smile. “And how did you get around it?”

“Well, let’s see…” You hum for a moment, tapping your chin as you thought, lips pursed in an adorable pout. Honestly, how could you make such unsolicited comments all the time about his own “cuteness” when you acted like this?

“The way I see it,” you said, drawing him out of his thoughts, “Metal magick calls for mastery of the self. And it suits you perfectly. You are always striving to be better. Always pushing yourself to your full potential. And you rely on nobody but yourself to get to where you are. It actually amazes me how much you have accomplished, how you are so willing to go even further.”

Beckett didn’t think his face could grow any warmer, yet you seemed to love proving him wrong. His heart warmed with immense affection at your praise, every word filled with more sincerity and openness than he’d thought possible. How could you be so open, so willing to share your heart with everyone around you? With someone like him?

He couldn’t understand. Perhaps that was his problem.

“Wood magick, however, is not self-reliant,” you continued, turning your gaze to the potted plant. “You are not bending and moulding a form to the best of your ability. You are guiding a living thing. It requires you to listen, cooperate, and most importantly, trust. You need to trust that you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

Your eyes caught his for a moment, and he could have sworn he saw something flicker across their brilliance. A hint of knowing…reassurance. Were you still talking about magick? However, as quickly as that unspoken message played out in your bright gaze, your attention shifted back to the plant before you.

Beckett watched, inexplicably enraptured by your magick brought the wilted plant back upright. Your magick…it didn’t demand control over the plant, didn’t bend it to your will. It was patient, trusting, and…warm. Just as warm as it had been the first time he truly felt it.

One of the leaves continued to extend towards you, towards your open palm. Enraptured with his own curiosity, Beckett was wondering what sort of complicated spell you were preparing to demonstrate when you simply met the leaf with your palm. “High five!”

He paused, blinking a couple times, before letting out a groan.

“I have finally done it—I have failed the Harrington name,” he murmured. “I’ve resorted to asking for help from a Wood-Att who has not only just recently been introduced to magick, but also uses the art for handshakes with houseplants.”

“Oh, no need for the dramatics, you dork,” you beamed, sidling up behind him. “Let’s start small and build from there. Kind of like relationships.”

You placed your hands around his, your magick still so inviting and warm like sunshine, and he realized then that you were sharing your magick with him. Not so much in a way that lends him your power, though, you weren’t giving him the materials to build something great. It was more like you were leading him along a dance, magick guiding him into a certain direction but also listening to his magick, his heart. You were always frighteningly good at that, reading his heart.

He didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

“It’s okay. It will listen to you. Don’t force it, just let it respond to you in its own way.”

Beckett nodded, taking in a deep breath and letting his eyes drift shut to relax. It was strange, he realized. He never felt more vulnerable than when he was around you. You were always so open and free with your thoughts, your feelings, with your love. One would think that made you too trusting, naïve, defenseless to anyone who wanted to hurt you — in fact Beckett did think exactly that before you became friends. That was when he realized that as much as you allowed him to know more about you, he was letting himself be known as well. All his failures, his insecurities, his weaknesses. It went both ways.

And being known — having people know not only your name, not only your pride and accomplishments, but knowing and seeing you — was a terrifying thing. With you, he couldn’t hide behind any of those, he had no shield, no armor. He always thought that one would be weak without them. But you had long known that wasn’t true.

It had never occurred to Beckett that an open, unguarded heart could have been hurt before. He’d always thought it was a result of never experiencing pain. But that wasn’t true. Your openness and kindness weren’t out of naivety, they were a choice — one that took strength, resilience, and so much bravery. You chose to open yourself to the world because you knew before he did that there was more to vulnerability than weakness. There was joy and friendship and growth. There was love.

You made him vulnerable…and you made him stronger.

It was a simple thing to place his trust in you.

“Beckett, open your eyes,” you whispered, breath brushing against his ear.

He did as you told, and saw a leafy tendril reaching out toward his hand, brushing tenderly against his fingers. Beckett breathed out an incredulous laugh.

You threw your arms around him, wrapping him in a warm, giddy embrace. “You did it! I knew you could!”

He was at a loss for words, choosing instead to watch your smiling face, your eyes filled with pride in him, in a way that was somehow worth more than all the awards in the world combined. He only wished you would pull him in closer.

Something suddenly wrapped around his arm and yanked him out of your embrace. “Gah!”

And then he found himself entangled in the vines of the plant, leaves tickling his skin, gently swaying as if he was being cradled.

“Oops,” you said, chuckling at the display of open affection. “I forgot to warn you how enthusiastically they can respond to you once you’ve formed a bond. Alright, buddy, you can let him go now. Thanks for the help.”

You stroked a hand along the stem, which relaxed under your touch and eventually dropped Beckett back onto his feet. His face was flushed a bright red in embarrassment as he attempted to straighten out his clothes.

“I think I’ll stop here for now. As much as I would love to continue cuddling the university’s flora, I do have other classes to study for.”

He sent an apologetic look to the plant as if to say “no offense.”

…God, you might be rubbing off on him a little too much.

“They don’t usually react like this one you’ve gained their trust,” you mumbled, rubbing your chin thoughtfully. “What were you thinking about before it pulled you in?”

How much I wanted to sink deeper into your embrace until I’m forever lost in your warmth and affection. “Er, I was just…nervous, I suppose,” he fibbed, feeling his face warm yet again as he stuttered.

“Well, whatever that was about, you still performed the spell successfully! And the plant seems to like you,” you said. Your smile turned mischievous, a bit too pleased, and Beckett knew what that look usually meant. “I knew you’d grow on each other eventually.”

“…If that was intended to be a Wood magick joke, I am breaking up with you.”

The plant beside them shuddered as if agreeing with him about his partner’s corny humour. You let out a bright giggle and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Nah, you wouldn’t. I’ve grown on you, too.”

At that, Beckett allowed himself a fond smile, even as you were already turned away, starting off in the direction of the library.

“Yes,” he admitted quietly to no one in particular. “You have.”

You looked over your shoulder with a radiant smile that, Beckett was starting to realize, he couldn’t remember his life without.

“Come on, Harrington, Wood magick’s not the only attunement we have to review!”

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regicidal-defenestration · 3 years

Note

Please tell me more about the mechsworld (discanisms?) Fic ideas

GLADLY

Under a readmore because it got ~long~ fdhfd

So this is split into three parts because unfortunately that’s the kind of person I am dfjghgj

Mechs + Death

According to Ao3’s word count, I have exactly 7306 thoughts on what would happen if the Mechanisms met Death (you know. The skeleton)

Because the thing is, Death (capital D) understands death (lower case d) perfectly well. He understands the process of life ending, he understands you go one way and only one way. After all, he’s got plenty of experience.

But! All of a sudden you’ve got this crew of eight people who definitely don’t stay dead like they should, plus the Toy Soldier, who’s a different deal entirely jdfghj

Now this doesn’t lead on to my next point really, but I’m moving on anway!

Death is a creature of belief, and so doesn’t obey the laws of physics as regular people. My favourite example of this is the Poker, which goes right through him, but does hit Teatime. Who else do we know that is powered by Belief (well. Narrative reasons (well. nanobots (well. Whatever fits best at the time)))

The Mechs!

All of them (Mechs and skeleton both) are powered by the story, and that is an incredibly interesting alley to explore

Also it’s fun to write situations where Death is inconvenienced .

Must there be “plot”? Is it not enough to imagine the Luggage, running full pelt towards you, the Toy Soldier riding on it’s back?

As the title kinda suggests, I have a bunch of ideas that aren’t full plots (and will likely never be because sometimes ideas just stay Ideas) but are fun to imagine

Ashes O’Reilly and Moist von Lipwig. If ever they started working together, basically you’d be fucked sdfgjhjk

They’d be terrifying at swindling, quite frankly, and if you compare their ability at maths and the like to that of the average Anhk-Morporkian well- it’s hardly a challenge at all

Of course, Ashes may well just take over the Post Office like they did the Acheron and all power to them!

Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson and Jonny d’Ville!

Jonny is the absolute opposite of Carrot in every conceivable way. Carrot wouldn’t hesitate to put him in jail as soon as he physically could and if Jonny thought it’d be funny to cause more problems inside rather than outside of jail he’d let himself be captured. They would not get along

Except

Except if they dealt with children

Carrot “organised the most deadly gangs of kids on the streets and got the to play football without fatalities” Ironfoundersson and Jonny “read to kids in a hospital (and only shot the annpying ones!)” d’Ville would find a grugding sort of respect there

Carrot would be explaining the rules of some game, and the kids would listen because it’s Carrot and you can’t not (and also stood behind him is Jonny and more accurately Jonny’s gun)

Speaking Susan Sto Helit into existence because I love her

Idk she meets the Toy Soldier in Biers

TBI (Discworld Flavour)

So this is much more involved than everything mentioned previously, where I just took characters and moved them around as needed. This is something I very much want to write, and am in the process of planning and, more specifically, finding explanations for a few Fairly Large Plot Points that at the moment I’m kinda hand waving away dfhghjk

TBI (Discworld Flavour) is basically me thinking “hey. What if I rewrote TBI but set it on the Disc, and went from there”

Inspector Second Class Lyfrassir Edda doesn’t exist as a single character (apologies to the Lyf fans who’ve read this far fdghjk). Instead, I think it’d work to split their role across a range of characters, namely Vetinari (and a newspaper) for the narration parts, and the City Watch (specifically Sam Vimes, Fred Colon and Nobby Nobbs) for dealing with Raphaella, Marius and Ivy in prison (those three remain unchanged, because the other three, Vimes especially, would have one hell of a time trying to deal with them)

Odin is a wizard (because, with all respect to Sir Terry Practchett, this is My Town now and wizardry and witchcraft aren’t gender specific (which he did get at, in Equal Rites, but over 41 books there wasn’t much deviation from Male Wizard Female Witch (also non-binary people exist!)). Also Many more people aren’t straight). She’s head of a project to run a train from Anhk-Morpork to the Hub in three hours rather than three days. Naturally, this involves lots of magic, and this magic attracts the attention of Things from the Dungeon Dimensions (which, like Yog-Sothoth are heavily inspired by the whole eldritch Lovecraft stuff, so that all fits nicely) Another thing that fits nicely is the fact that they can “infect” wizards (hence Odin), and also they really Cannot survive long in this world, whch gives a nice way to end this thing

No Asgard, so instead the passengers on the train are the staff of the Unseen University (yes, even the Librarian) Of course, they won’t die in this one, but the Bursar has a gloopy Thing land on his face after the Lecturer in Recent Runes booted it across the traincar so not much difference (/j) dfhfd

Loki, Thor, Sigyn and possibly Kvasir (though they also may not exist as a character, and instead be a name for the engine) are all UU students (hence why the passengers don’t care for them) They are the ones that Do Things, and likely study in the High Energy Magic building, so are actually qualified to deal with this sort of shit

Then: shit happens! Odin dies, Loki Thor Sigyn die and meet Death and have some sort of ConversationTM about the power of stories. It’s all very touching

Obviously, the Disc doesn’t get destroyed - the Things get driven back. Ivy, Marius and Raphaells do still escape, of course, and, in the immortal words of everyone’s favourite human(?) Nobby, Mr Vimes goes spare

#god this. this is so long dfgjhjsk #the mechanisms #discworld #Anonymous

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luisa2swag · 3 years

Text

Love me for me (2)

he towered over you, chest looking larger than usual thanks to the tight white shirt that stuck to his body with sweat. Your eyes darted to his nipple and before he could even muster another insult, His nipples were firmly grasped between your thumbs and index fingers, twisting away with all your might.

Your lips tugged upwards in satisfaction when he let out a yell of surprise and pain.

"What the actual fuck?!" He backed away, freeing himself from your hands. You smirked "Now you know why my last name is Mcniplecocker. Because I twist nipples and I certainly do have a cock!"

You were shameless as you said theses words. Jungkook couldn't even bother thinking of something else to say other than "okay I'm leaving." As you watched him walk away from you in the empty classroom. You saw him turn the doorknob but he did not move.

Was he maybe going to say something?

The tugs at the door knob became more violent with each twist and you could see Jungkook losing patience. His shoulders slumped, "We're locked in."

"W-what?"

[THREE HOURS BEFORE BEING LOCKED]

"W-wow." You looked at the school in amazement, boxes in your hands, you watched as the other male students buzzled around campus with their parents and installed themselves into their dorms.

You didn't have the luxury of being here with your dad. Imagine one of the most wanted criminals in the past setting foot into a place filled with lawyers. Your plan would be immediately dead but most importantly, you'd be behind bars.

This school must of been as old as Harvard. The building resembled the ones they would teach about in history class -You know the medieval ages- only the inside had been done up.

They were the only University that didn't open its gates to every gender which only lured more male heirs from all over the planet.

Parents thought that no girls meant no distractions but what they failed to know was that in 2018,some boys didn't just like girls.

"Hey, do you want help? You seem lost.." startled at the sudden deep voice coming from your right side, you jumped a bit.

Turning around to take a look at who had the audacity to initiate a conversation with your lonely ass. To be completely honest, you had just been standing around, mouth agape, looking at boys passing you by.

Holy shit he's hot

Instantly, you felt blood rush to your cheeks, you hoped that he wouldn't notice. He stood tall compared to you, nose long and eyes almost rectangle-ish. The sun and the ore gold were both jealous of his heavenly skin. You watched as he ran a large hand through his chestnut hair.

"Uh-huh" was all you could muster. A frown draped itself on your features, realizing how dumb and un-dude-ish you just sounded. Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, nothing could prepare you to the fact that a freaking model would be here speaking to your thirsty ass.

"Are you perhaps looking for your dorm? I had tricky time finding mine too in my first year." His voice god his voice.

"Am Taehyung, by the way." He smiled, a smile so adorable you couldn't help but smile back too.

"Am Bob, yeah I think I need help."you smiled sheepishly, holding your box closer to your chest.

"Alright, ill need the number of your dorm."

"67-b"

"Ahhh, that's the law dorms. So you're a law student huh? So am I." He seemed excited. Long legs already taking the lead to find your dorm.

"Are you a third year student or ?" You asked, now entering the dorm you presumed to be yours.

"No, just a second year." He smiled.

You both walked in a comfortable silence until he stopped infront of a door. "67-b is here." He said with the nod of his head, leaning against the wall near the door.

"Do we usually have roommates?" You read that since it was such a prestigious and little school, they would give you your own room but you needed to be sure. You didn't want any surprises. "Yeah it'll just be you in there." He affirmed with his usual dashing smile.

"Official classes start in two days but if you want, you could still go check out the classrooms. There won't be any teachers so make sure you leave the door open or else you might be surprised."

"Oh okay." You didn't bother dropping your voice a couple octaves, sure that in the near future where you could be possibly drunk or inattentive, It'd royally fuck you up. You found it to be a better idea to stick to your normal low but warm voice and let the guys think that "oh, his voice sounds slightly feminine!"

You took a step back, hoodie floating around your body and hiding your womanly curves the best it could, you bowed slightly "thank you so much. I hope I'll see you around school!" You actually did hope to see him around .

Not only was he devilishly handsome but very sweet. You wouldn't mind spending time with him all while gawking at his beauty greater than the Greek gods. "If you want, in about three hours I'll be able to hang. I would've been available way sonner if it wasn't for the fact that we both need to unpack a little bit. We could meet up at your new law class? What do you say?" He pointed finger guns at you, only making you blush more.

Fuck he doesn't even know I am a girl and here I am blushing like a schoolgirl just because he invited me to hang out.

"I'd love to I-I mean yeah, that be cool dude." Awkwardly, you raised a fist in the air which he happily bumped. "Okay I'll be off now!"

And just like that, the chestnut haired boy was out of your feet with hop of his own. Leaving you to unpack with the sound of 90's music from your cellphone.

Your room was a decent size, a simple bed on the left with a desk on the right, a tiny kitchen area and out and down the hallways were the shared bathrooms.

You took out the basics, some clothes, toothbrush, the frozen goods your dad had cooked you and bedsheets. You'd finish up your room later,after seeing Taehyung.

Yeah, I'll do this as soon as I get back!

[thirty minutes before being locked]

Your room looked neat. There were still some boxes here and there but you promised yourself to unpack them as soon as you got back.

Now you had changed into a comfortable black t-shirt and joggers.You made sure to duck-tape your breast, of course.

You stepped outside, the sun hung lower but still shined and the wind blew, giving you a comfortable breeze. The other students also seemed to take this evening as a chance to explore the campus more.

You watched as two boys ran, almost bumping you on their way. The shorter one with plump lips turned and blurted a bunch of apologizes before his taller lean friend dragged him by the collar. "Cmon Jimin, we need to get him !" And they were gone, leaving you to wonder exactly who they were going to get.

You continued making your way to the class, eventually finding it.

It was spacious just like in the movies about college life. You quickly found yourself a the front where the teacher desk was but before that you made sure to keep the door open, starring into space and waiting for the young man. You heard foot-steps and a smile already adorned your features.

You turned around, waiting to be met with the chestnut haired boy but you were just met face to face with a chestnut haired boy, that wasn't your chestnut haired boy.

"Erm, sorry." You squirmed away as the buff boy with the angular nose reached to grab something behind you.

"Were you really trying to steal the notes professor had prepared for me?" He took out a sheet of paper almost out of thin air and you just stared in amazement until it hit you.

Hold on, did this guy just accuse me ?

"W-what? I didn't even know that was there. I don't even know who you are!" Brows twisted together in confusion, you couldn't help but dart your eyes to the paper and to his piercing gaze, examining me like a corpse.

I gulped when he crossed his arms over his chest, oblivious to his flexing, he stood about one head and a half taller than me.

"You're lying. Everyone knows me." He scoffed, confident in the words he spoke as I blinked away, still In confusion.

"Come again?" I tried, I really genuinely had no clue who this dude was. I mean yeah he's kinda cute or whatever but with an attitude like that, I don't see him having any friends.

"Of course you would play dumb, well you are dumb for trying to steal my notes. Maybe you should take the initiative like me and ask teachers to prepare you notes of everything you'll have to study for the semester." His thin upper lip twitched upwards, his eyes trailing over my body, probably judging.

"I wouldn't be so quick to judge lil punk, school hasn't even started yet and to inform you, i am the smartest student here, I don't need your bitchass notes to be able to catch up on class before class has even started."ooooh I burned his bunny looking ass!

A smirk adorned my full lips when I noticed the blush spread across his cheeks like wildfire. I watched as his confident facade slowly broke when he took a step back.

"I guess you really don't know me then, my name is Jeon Jungkook." Now he was the one with the smirk.

I deadpanned, "Uh, yeah I totally know you. Omg I cant believe I didn't realize sonner!" Arms crossed, I rolled my eyes.

"Think harder dumbass. Jeon Jungkook, doesn't that ring any bells?"

I thought hard, past all the cat memes, gta on PlayStation 2 cheat codes, my club penguin password, the pin of my first iPod. Past all the unnecessary things my brain stored I finally found what he has hinting.

All boys : Great Jeon University

It couldn't be, no .

Or could it be ? With my luck it could. His smile grew larger as he saw my eyes widen in shock. "Don't tell me this is some crappy wattpad plot where your family happens to own this school?" I already dreaded the answer I knew I would get. "Yes it is." His chest proudly rose.

"Well I couldn't care less , dumbass." I stated, indifferent.

"I just told you that my family basically owns this place and you don't give a shit?" Index pointed at my face, he asked dumbfounded. Not sure if my lack of respect for him should be a good thing or not. "You have a lot of guts for saying that to the great Jeon."

"If you're so great how come you don't know how to tie your shoes properly, doo-doo head ?" I shot back, taking a step closer with my chin up, finger pointing at his untied basketball shoes. Jungkook scoffed "why am I even here arguing with you? You sure talk a lot but you forget that your last name is Mcniplecocker. Thats an instant L" Your eyes twitched confused, how did he know your name? Then your orbs wondered down to your shirt who haired had gifted you as a joke with your fake name written just above your left tit.

Your lips tugged upwards in satisfaction when he let out a yell of surprise and pain.

"What the actual fuck?!" He backed away, freeing himself from your hands. You smirked "Now you know why my last name is Mcniplecocker. Because I twist nipples and I certainly do have a cock!"

[taehyung pov]

I don't remember the building being so far... I entered the law block, nothing but the sound of my sneakers against the wood floor could be heard. Hallways were clear and so was the sky this evening. I smiled thinking of the new friend I had made.

Pat pat pat I whipped my head around st the sudden running noise "Jimin? Namjoon?" My brows arched in confusion, I watched how they frantically started shouting my name.

I looked back to the front

The class where I had so kindly asked you to meet up with me was maybe twenty steps away

I couldn't just blow you off, no that wasn't something I'd want at all.

But with a blink of an eye and a stumbling Jimin, we we're passed the door and left behind a loud clacking noise. In fear of having accidentally closed the door shut, I twisted my neck to look back all while running with the two grown man looped around my arms. "J-Jimin, the d-door!" I let out breathless, heart thumping

"Guys -wait there's someone-" Jimin quickly interrupted "Yoongi snuck a girl on campus!" I looked back again, wishing that my gut feeling was wrong, wishing I hadn't just locked someone in a classroom.

She might be late, everyone comes late nowadays! I reassured myself.

With a aggressive tug of my sleeve from Namjoon, I realized that I didn't have a choice.

I'll come back later, I promise.

[Narrator pov] You were shameless as you said theses words. Jungkook couldn't even bother thinking of something else to say other than "okay I'm leaving." As you watched him walk away from you in the empty classroom. You saw him turn the doorknob but he did not move.

Was he maybe going to say something?

The tugs at the door knob became more violent with each twist and you could see Jungkook losing patience. His shoulders slumped, "We're locked in."

"W-what?"

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts

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ravenclaw-craftsgirl · 4 years

Photo

~IDENTITY (AS OF 6TH YEAR)~

Name: Lilian Marie Le’Reau

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Birth Date: February 23, 1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Sexuality: Gay

Alignment: Neutral

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: French/English (dual citizenship)

Residence: London, England

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INFJ-T The Advocate

1st Wand:

Alder Wood 12 3/4 Slightly springy flexibility Unicorn Hair core Alder is an unyielding wood, yet often its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, rather helpful, considerate and most likable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards.

2nd Wand:

Acacia Wood 13 Supple flexibility Horned Serpent Horn core A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I keep only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Animagus: Black Ragdoll with curved white marks under the eyes and on the paws

Misc Magical Abilities: Naturally adept at most forms of transfiguration and animation charms, wandless spell casting, silent spell casting

Boggart Form: Death Eater from her past

Riddikulus Form: Darth Vader saying “Lilian, I am your father”

Amortentia (others): A kitchen cooking a full meal; generally steak, green beans, baked potatoes, buttered rolls and brownies

Amortentia (Lilian): (before dating) Machine shop oil, the smell of grease and degreaser (after dating/ married) The smell of an old book and the fragrance of Merula’s perfume

Patronus: Multiple Wolves (average 2-3, more depending on the need)

Patronus Memory: The memory of all her friends, family and loved ones attending the unveiling of her first golem

Mirror of Erised: Herself, living life without fear of persecution by muggles or pureblood wizards.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Piertotum Locomotor

Baubillious (for offense and creation)

Permanent Sticking Charm (It’s easier than weeks of welding)

Aguamenti (you wouldn’t believe how many fires are started near Lilian)

Incendio (speaking of fire…)

Engorgio

Reducio

~APPEARANCE~

In game

Height: 6’3” (190.5 cm)

Weight: 170 lbs (77 kg)

Physique: Toned/ Lean build

Eye Colour: Purple/ Amethyst

Hair Colour: Snow White (originally chestnut)

Skin Tone: Porcelain

Body Modifications: Single Purple streak of Dyed hair

Scarring: After the battle of Hogwarts in the second wizarding war, Lilian loses her left arm and right leg below the joints. She later develops prosthetics nearly identical to her original limbs, but stronger than steel

Inventory: On her person she will have a charm bracelet of several shrunken items including:

-a table -a cooler -a medical cabinet (with everything inside secured) -three Tiny Golems (for easy transport when not in use)

As well as a satchel with several books, pencils and sketch pads for when she has an idea or observes something inspiring. She owns a car and a Thunderbolt broomstick.

Fashion: Lilian normally dresses in black slacks, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black vest over the white shirt. She also owns several pairs of boots, most in the style of buckle up platforms with steel toes. She will also wear various dresses to accentuate her figure, muscles or the dresses design as well as several pop culture t-shirts (her favorites are often science fiction based such as Star Wars and Halo)

~ALLEGIANCES~

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Affiliations/Organizations:

The Order of the Phoenix

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

The Constitutional Republic of France

The Royal Crown of England

Professions:

Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office (consultant)

Department of Magical Equipment Control

Freelance Craftswoman (magical prosthetics)

Freelance Craftswoman (miscellaneous items)

Freelance Craftswoman (Animated Objects)

~HOGWARTS INFORMATION~

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ (E) Charms: ★★★★★★★★★★ (O) DADA: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ (O) Flying: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (A) Herbology: ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (E) History of Magic: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ (A) Potions: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (O) Transfiguration: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ (O)

Electives: Study of Ancient Runes Ancient Runes Alchemy Arithmancy Advanced Arithmancy

Extra Curricular:

Dungeons and Dragons club Potions Club Magic TheoryAncient Runes Club Education of Muggle Items Group (unofficial president)

Favourite Professors:

Professor McGonagall: While not typically the first choice of Ravenclaws, Lilian respects Professor McGonagall for her cool and decisive temperament, her rational thought processes and her ability to make the correct call in stressful situations. She is also partial due to the shared Animagus attribute as well as the professor’s forgiving nature towards Lilian’s Experimentation with magical creations.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Trelawney: While Lilian respects every form of knowledge, she never understood why this class was a core requirement and not an elective. Surely if someone was that desperate to know their ‘future’ they could use their own time instead of forcing an entire class to follow suit. Lilian is a firm believer in ‘you make your own fate’ and views Professor Trelawney as overly superstitious, even by wizarding world standards.

~RELATIONSHIPS~

Father: Daniel Le’Reau Muggle English Professor Attended University of Cambridge, England Short, Chestnut brown hair with matching Goatee. Tall, slightly scrawny 38 years old.

Daniel is soft-spoken and amicable, often seeking the least confrontational methods. Polite and poised, as expected of a respected University professor

Upper Middle Class

Professor of Literature and English Studies at the University of Cambridge

Daniel is a very well known professor, often sited in many English studies papers for his ideas on early literature such as Shakespeare and Anglo-Saxton ballads, noting their implications in modern art and culture as well as their historic significance. He is also known to be quite supportive of his students, often treating them like family members and helping them achieve their dreams.

Known the McKinley family since Lilian was 5 (the day she was almost kidnapped)

Mother: Amelie Nicole Le’Reau Muggle Long straight Black hair, Amethyst eyes, Average height, toned muscles, rugged beauty. Mechanic (military contracted) 37 years old.

Amelie is an outspoken, avid thinker who spends just as much time as her husband educating people.

Amelie originally served in the Royal Engineering Corps in her early years until she met and fell in love with a rather awkward yet lovable man named Daniel. Shortly before her Exit date, she married him and had Lilian. Since then, she’s been a military contractor for the Royal Engineering Corps. Assisting with various mechanical jobs from basic transportation to armored troop transports to Tanks and Mobile Weapons Systems.

Nearly traumatized when a dark wizard kidnapped Lilian after killing several bystanders with magic and curses. Almost forbade Lilian from attending Hogwarts when she received the acceptance letter. Remains in good standing with Shamus McKinley.

Love Interest: Merula

While they only officially started dating during the Sixth year, their relationship started in the Fourth year.

During the Celestial ball, Lilian noticed that Merula didn’t have anyone to dance with and offered to dance with her. After the Celestial Ball, Merula’s Attitude softened to a degree. While Lilian was still being teased about how tall she was, she was no longer harassed for being a muggle, nor was she mocked for her passions. While Merula wouldn’t outright ask for help from Lilian, She would never deny Lilian helping her.

Generally the attitude of the two was always Lilian genuinely trying to learn about Merula while Merula made an effort to understand Lilian and where she was from. Eventually Mistrust and Resentment would make way to curiosity and intrigue.

Only when Lilian had saved Merula’s life from Dementors had she finally figured out her mixed feelings for Lilian, realizing that she had fallen in love with the quiet muggle born witch, eccentricities and all.

Best Friends:

Rowan Hubei Khanna (Female Khanna) Rowan Harrow Khanna (Male Khanna) Ben Copper Penny Haywood Badeea Ali Ismelda Murk Rival: None

Enemy:

Patricia Rakepick

Dormmates:

Rowan Hubei Khanna Badeea Ali Tulip Karasu

Pets:

Eleanor is an american shorthair that Lilian rescued from the street during her trip to Diagon Alley. Eleanor had been a kitten at the time, thus Lilian was given special permission to have her familiar with her during all classes to make sure she didn’t go hungry.

Due to outstanding Circumstance, Lilian has also (legally) adopted an Acromantula that refers to himself as Cain. While technically intelligent enough to take care of himself, he does allow her to give pets and scratch his carapace in the right areas. In exchange, Lilian is given a supply of webbing to refine into silk as she needs.

Closest Canon Friends:

Ismelda Murk Rowan Hubei Khanna

Closest MC Friends:

Helene Adler @heleneplays

Skylar Morningstar @angrynar

Ada Corcoran @ask-bincopper-archive

Neon Welkin @neonbluewaves

Ethren Whitecross @hogwartsmysterystory

~BACKGROUND/HISTORY~

[The following is an excerpt from the book The Craftswoman, a biography on the Life and Philosophies of Lilian Le’Reau]

Interviewer: What do you know of Mrs. Le’Reau? Headmistress Rowan Hubei Khanna: Lilian? Wow, where do I begin… She was always quiet. It was almost as if she were watching everything that happened for the sake of safety and precautions. Like she was always expecting the worst to happen to her no matter what. But given her history I wouldn’t put it past her.

I: Could you please elaborate on that? Headmistress Khanna: Well, I suppose so. When Lilian was around the age of five, she and her mother were attacked by a rogue Death Eater, one of the remnants of the first wizarding war. A lot of people died that day, several more had to have their memory erased.

I: With the Memory Erasing Charm, yes. The report of ‘The Market Massacre’ were in the papers for weeks after the incident, if I recall. Headmistress Khanna: Right. Well, This death eater had a particular goal in mind. I was told that he kept on rambling about how he was gonna make new army, one to combat the remnants of the Order of Phoenix. He had planned on kidnapping Children with magical talent in order to build this order.

I: Fortunately, the Auror Shamus McKinley was nearby to save her. He not only saved her, but dispatched the dark wizard as well, yes? Headmistress Khanna: While this is true, it still had its ramifications. No one goes through that sort of experience the same. Lilian didn’t like to talk about where she came from or about her childhood.

I: Well, how about her years alongside you at Hogwarts? How would you describe that? Headmistress Khana: Our time at Hogwarts was actually rather mundane compared to the adventures of our other classmates. Lilian and I were generally the part of the plan that collected information and helped solve the riddles of the vaults, rather than actually fighting any of the curses there. Otherwise, much of her time was spent studying, trying to figure out new ways to apply spells and context of said spells, and honing her own personal abilities. Like I said, a rather average Hogwarts tenure for the both of us.

I: Alright. How about during the battle of Hogwarts? Or perhaps anything during then and your graduation of Hogwarts? Headmistress Khanna: The time before the battle of Hogwarts, I can't testify for. For a while, most of us fell out of contact as we moved on with our lives, trying to make a name for ourselves in our own fields. But…

I: It’s okay if you would like to avoid this subject. Headmistress Khanna: No no, it needs to be said. During the battle of Hogwarts, a lot of us were scared. None of us had been in this sort of conflict before, and those of us that had weren't ready for what we faced. Yet there Lilian was, setting up perimeters and directing people to the best suited jobs to help defend. She even brought in nearly a dozen golems to assist in the defense. We were lucky too, since those were the only things stopping the main host of trolls from climbing up the bridge. The battle itself is a blur, but when the dust settled, we all saw Lilian slumped against a wall, babbling on about equations and how many litres of blood she felt she had lost. She was missing her arm and leg, surrounded by a dozen or so dark wizards.

I: Thank you, Headmistress. I think that’ll be all for now. Headmistress Khanna: I appreciate the need to document Lilian’s life. She’d be too busy to actually sit down and write it herself, believe it or not.

~PERSONALITY~

Lilian is a very open minded individual. Creative and Intelligent, She will always see projects through to the end, even if she already knows that the result will be failure. Despite the innumerable amount of failures that she’s had, Lilian always finds a way to take joy from any situation. While she mainly focuses on her work, she is a rather quiet and shy woman despite her imposing stature and very apparent abilities. She doesn’t like to brag, nor is she prone to any outwardly negative emotions.

She does have several flaws though, first and foremost being her inability to cope with overly strong negative stimuli as well as a tendency to hyper fixate on a project at hand, often forgetting to eat and rest until her body physically forces her to sustain itself. (most common being her collapsing from exhaustion and sleep deprivation.)

MISC

Lives in the muggle world (London specifically)

Has family in both France and England

While not typically a fighter, Lilian has mastered the Patronus charm to astonishing success, manifesting three or more Wolf patroni with one casting.

While she is missing her left arm and right leg from the joints down, Lilian has since made prosthetic arms that are not only nearly identical to the previous limbs, they are far stronger than steel and well crafted enough to fool Muggles unless they closely inspect the hand in question.

Lilian married Merula nearly a year after the Battle of Hogwarts

In order to maintain hold of her tools while working and simultaneously casting spells, Lilian has mastered both the art of wandless and silent spellcasting.

Lilian owns a machine shop in London, making both Muggle and Magical items for multiple clients. She is allowed to do this through the employment of Squibs. This also allows her to take Auror Interns, teaching them how muggle technology works.

Lilian attempts to pioneer Golemancy, even attempting to have it recognized as an official practice of magic.

After Much convincing and reassuring, Lilian managed to get Merula to move to the Muggle world. Even then, this was only after several charms had been cast to help hide their magical nature from Ordinary Muggles. (Merula is particularly keen on cell phones.)

After several letters, Lilian agrees to teach several Magic Theory classes at Beauxbatons, much to the joy of several students and faculty. Lilian even demonstrates the magic and technology behind her prosthetics, inspiring the next generation of magic craftsmen and women.

#Biography #character bio #Lilian Le'reau #story #art by helgship #template by hogwartsmysterystory #this was fun to make #i finally made a full character bio

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

Text

You’ve Got Mail: Jungkook One Shot

Request: Hi! I really love your writings! If your requests are still open, can you pls write a Jungkook story? Ex-lovers in high school where he broke up with her because he got bored or something like that. Then they met again in university and wants her back again. (Angst but happy ending pls). Thank you!

Description: After a messy breakup with high school heartthrob Jeon Jungkook, you swore off dating once you got into college. Even though it left you lonely, it was easier than being hurt. But one fateful blind date changes everything for you, and you realize that maybe isolation isn’t the answer either.

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, Non-Idol!Au, Ex-Lovers to Enemies to Lovers (? I guess? Haha)

Genre: Whole lotta angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: None!

A/N: It’s been two weeks since I’ve posted wtf!! But I’m back and less than a week away from the Rose Bowl concert, holy cow. This ask has been in my inbox for MONTHS, so I need to say thank you to the anon who sent it for waiting so long! I really enjoyed this request, so I hope you guys like it too!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/plzpunchmebts. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be posting concert videos and pics there, so please give it a follow if you’d like to see that!

- Mercury

You were never too keen on blind dates. Everything about them felt…artificial. It wasn’t that you were a romantic, not especially, but you had to admit that being forced on a date by meddlesome friends took some of the magic out of dating. When Sua had mentioned a cute new boy in her class who was too busy studying to date, you had to admit the red flags began waving in your mind. Of course, you could relate. College was taxing and it was difficult to find time to even eat three meals, let alone date. Perhaps if things had cropped up organically, you’d have been more excited. But the forced union was a little cumbersome.

The nerves and the insecurity and the fear, none of it was especially fun. But Sua had been adamant that the two of you would hit it off, and with her eyes round and expectant, her brows raised, and her lips pouted, you really didn’t have any room to deny her. You figured one night of discomfort was better than months of guilt, and even though you figured things wouldn’t work out with this mystery man, you’d humor your friend. After all, making friends in college wasn’t easy.

Making friends in general wasn’t easy.

You sighed as you waited with your chilly hands clasped around your phone, standing at the entrance to the subway station where Sua had instructed. The mouth of the entrance was muggy with exiting passengers as the wave of people clambered up the steep stairs and onto the street, lined on all sides by buildings that reached the sky. Every now and again, someone would graze their shoulder against yours without apology, or perhaps step on the toe of your sneaker. You took a few inching steps backward, glancing over your shoulder to be sure you wouldn’t hit anyone. Not that they’d care. You backed up until you were out of the streamline and instead took up a quieter spot beside a fish cake vendor.

You checked your phone once again, furrowing your brow. Sue said eleven, didn’t she? You pulled up your messages and scrolled through carefully, head tilted to the side as you read her most recent text.

Sua: He said he’s running a little late, but he told me to tell you to wait.

You: I am waiting…

Sua: He says he’s sorry and that the subway is close to the terminal now.

You: That’s good.

Sua: He says sorry again.

Sua: You know, this is kinda dumb. Let me just give you his number so you can text him.

Sua: 51-XXX-XX24

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest. Sua was right, anyway. Making her your proxy wouldn’t really do you much good, considering she wasn’t here to help you in person. But wouldn’t it be a bit forward to just…text this guy? You didn’t know him yet. And besides, what could you say that Sua hadn’t? Hey, I’m doing this out of obligation, sorry to disappoint! or you can just go back home now and we can tell Sua things didn’t work out. You shook your head and rubbed your fingertip along the screen of your phone, working your lower lip between your teeth. You were just looking for an out. And really, you didn’t want to bail after Sua had gone through the trouble of setting things up. Still, just texting a stranger was a little…

But then again, he’d agreed to the blind date too, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like you were someone he was forced to talk to. He’d come on his own accord. Rubbing your bare forearm in the spring breeze with one hand, you used the other to tap the phone number and save it and, with only your index finger, drafted a slow message.

You: Hey, I’m Sua’s friend. I think we’re supposed to have a blind date today? Haha. That sounded kind of awkward…

Within seconds, your phone dinged with an incoming text and you jumped, nervous, before glancing at your phone once more.

Blind Date: Oh! Haha, hello. It wasn’t awkward at all. Ahh, I’m really sorry I’m late. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into a cyclist and he gave me an earful so I missed the first subway.

Blind Date: But I’m one stop away! You’re outside exit 2 right?

You: Yeah! I’m next to a fish cake stall. I’m wearing a red blouse, so you can’t miss me :-)

Damn, you thought, was that smiley face too much? You picked at the skin around your nail and glanced up to see the near-constant flow of people was still in full force, the subway exit spitting pedestrians onto the cement sidewalk in droves. You squinted a little, trying to keep a good visual on the staircase leading out. With a sigh, you leaned over your bag to slip your phone inside when it buzzed again. Despite yourself, your heart raced and you eagerly unlocked it to see if he’d responded.

Blind Date: Cute! Let’s get some fish cakes then before we go to the movie.

Blind Date: Ah, subway just pulled in! I’m only a few sweaty staircases away now~

Blind Date: :P

Without meaning to, you smiled a little. Your nerves settled as you leaned on your right foot, grinning softly at your screen. He seemed like a good guy, at least. You were relieved. After the jerks you dated in high school, you’d sworn off dating for a while. Maybe trying to cleanse your palate. It was…oddly refreshing to be talking to someone who didn’t make you feel like you weren’t all that important. Like you were disposable.

Still smiling, you responded with a simple text.

You: I’m excited to meet you :-D

“Y/N?” asked a familiar voice from beside you.

A voice that sent chills up your spine, and not the good kind.

You stiffened and turned, eyes wide, toward the one person you’d been hoping fervently to avoid for life. Standing with his big, brown eyes wide and his hair slightly windswept, Jeon Jungkook stared down at you like you were a ghost. Your lips parted and, heart hammering, you opened and closed your jaw a few times. What were you supposed to say to the boy who broke your heart when you were sixteen?

Years later and he was still the heartthrob he’d been back then, only now he looked…like a man. His cheekbones were prominent, strong jaw, heavy brow and a serious, toned build like he’d lived at the gym in the years between your meetings.

You swallowed hard and slipped your phone in your bag, crossing your arms and thus closing yourself to him. You glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. “Jungkook,” you said with a sigh. “I’m actually waiting here for someone and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, so if you could-,”

“You’re on a blind date?” asked Jungkook, lips agape.

You shrugged, glancing down the sidewalk toward the open maw of the subway exit, squinting in the hopes of catching your date’s attention. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Wait, but-,”

You sighed and shut him up with a single look his way, sharp, venomous. “I’m gonna to wait someplace else if you’re gonna keep standing beside me.”

“No, it’s not-,”

You huffed and shuffled into the crowd once more, walking purposefully away from him, but Jungkook was hot on your tail and wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Every few paces, you’d glance over your shoulder and see him following you feverishly, angling himself through the narrow spaces between bodies. But you kept going, pushing through, until you were blocks away from the subway station and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You exhaled long and slow, patting your chest to calm down, and veered off toward the shops on your right, taking cover beneath an awning. Something in your bag vibrated and you jumped. Shit. Your date. The spring day sun was warm on your hands as you fumbled with your bag, grabbing your phone once again.

Blind Date: Where did you go??

You gripped your nose bridge and exhaled through your nose. Of course he’d be confused. You were lucky he was nice enough to reach out at all after seeing you weren’t where you said you’d be. You typed your reply quickly, desperate not to hurt his feelings.

You: God, I’m SO sorry. I ran into someone…from a long time ago lol. I couldn’t shake him off, so I ended up down the street a few blocks. By a Burger King.

You: I’m making a really bad impression, huh? I’m sorry. Just…he’s the LAST person I wanted to see today, you know?

You: Or…well, ever haha.

You awaited a response with bated breath, brows knit, and chewed on the inside of your cheek. This blind date was a wild card, really. Since you didn’t know him yet, you didn’t know how he’d respond. And it wouldn’t be his fault if he decided you weren’t worth all the hassle. Honestly, you might’ve been a little relieved if that was the case. Running into Jungkook…it made you remember why you avoided dating.

But despite your expectations, your phone buzzed again and you jumped to grab it.

Blind Date: This person…you really didn’t want to see him?

You: No. It’s just a painful reminder of the past.

You: !!! God, I keep saying awkward things !!! Haha, please forget I said anything. Where are you?

Blind Date: No! It’s not awkward at all. I’m just…

Blind Date: I’m sorry you had to see him then, I guess.

You: Jeez…

You: You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you?

Blind Date: Haha! I don’t know about that…

Blind Date: How about we reschedule for another time? I get the feeling you wouldn’t really be up for a movie right now anyway.

You panicked, heart kicking up. Despite everything you told yourself, you were a little bit happy he was being so understanding. And even though you were scared, you wanted to see if…well…if maybe this guy might be different.

You shook your head. Of course you shouldn’t think that way. Putting your heart out there to be toyed with and thrown aside…you didn’t want to go through it. Not really. And what relationship could be worth all that? You sucked in your breath and typed a quick response, ready to cast Jungkook and this blind date into the banks of your memory to gather dust. Even if this guy did seem sweet…

So had Jungkook, at first.

You: Yeah. That’s probably for the best. I work at that coffeeshop on campus, so I’ll shoot you a text once I get my schedule. :-)

You: I’m sorry for all the trouble today. Seriously.

You sighed and turned on your heel toward the street. If you kept on this sidewalk for a few more blocks, you’d find exit 3. And from there, it was only a 20-minute subway ride home whereupon you could finally collapse on your couch and wait for this cursed weekend to be over.

But before you could take a single step, a text came.

Blind Date: It was no trouble. :D I just feel bad that you had an unpleasant experience…

You: Hey, it’s not your fault haha.

You: Oh yeah! I never gave you my name, did I?

Blind Date: No, actually. Haha.

You: It’s Y/N.

Blind Date: It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N.

Blind Date: You can call me Nochu.

You: … Nochu … ?

Blind Date: Haha, it’s weird huh?

Blind Date: It’s a nickname I prefer.

You: Ah! I see. I’ll call you that then.

You: Nochu.

Blind Date: Y/N :-)

You stood and placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, groaning, a week later. Classes had been dragging lately and with several coworkers sick with a cold, you were one of the only employees left who wasn’t too ill to work. Your body felt like it was slowly failing you. Even your feet were sore from constantly running from place to place. And the quiet coffee shop before you made you feel like taking a long and well-needed nap. Mismatched chairs and bistro tables littered the trendy place and students congregated around the windows or the fireplace or the used bookshelf. Nobody really bothered you except to order or ask for to-go coffee sleeves. Mostly, you just stood there. For hours. Watching everything and nothing at once.

But today the energy was a little different. You’d heard from Sua that the graphic design students were approaching an important deadline, and from the looks of the crowd it seemed that deadline was heavy on everyone’s minds. Laptops and drawing tablets and plenty of coffee littered the tables as students chatted in small groups, none of them looking all too happy. You wondered what the project was, but didn’t want to bother Sua with a useless question. So instead, you just watched over customer’s shoulders as they added thick white lines to separate sections of illustrations or grabbed whole images with slender styluses and slid them to new spaces.

“Excuse me?”

You jumped and turned to the queue which up until moments ago had been completely empty. You made sure to manage your expression with a tight smile and bowed your head. “Sorry,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes to meet the customer.

And, to your shock and horror, you saw a familiar face amongst the group of thee college-aged boys. Jeon Jungkook stood in the middle, a half-pace behind the guy who had roused your attention, and if his expression was anything to go by, he was just as horrified to see you as you were to see him. You felt your back go perfectly straight, eyes wide and lips parted through which only shallow exhales escaped. Your palms grew sweaty and your heart thump-thumped to an uneven cadence.

“Um, what can I make for you?” you asked finally, managing a tight smile at the speaker of the group whose attention was affixed to the sign above your head, reading the menu with squinted eyes. “If you need more time…,” you hedged, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze which you felt burning circles into your face.

“Ah, no I’ve got it,” said the first guy with a polite smile your way. “I’ll have a green tea latte.”

You nodded and wrote it down on your notepad, just to keep things straight. Had your coworkers been stronger in their constitution, you’d have given the order to one of them to get started on. Perhaps you’d even get started yourself and leave the cashiering to them. But alas, you were alone and painfully aware of it.

“Will you be paying separately or together?” you asked, a tinge of hope in your voice. Please say together, please say together, please say together, you thought over and over, like an endless mantra.

The first boy chuckled and gave Jungkook’s shoulder a firm punch. “Like I’ll pay for these good-for-nothings,” he joked before returning his attention to you, smiling. He had a kind smile, but even that did little to ease your anxieties. You simply nodded and took his card as he stretched it out toward you.

The second guy approached, another brown-haired college kid with a polite grin and baggy spring clothes, and hummed. “I’ll do the caramel macchiato,” he said with a nod, fingers still clasping his chin as he scanned the menu and you scribbled his order. “Ah!” he said, pointing at you. You jumped, still on edge with adrenaline coursing through you, but quickly settled with a smile. “And a slice of banana bread.”

“Banana bread,” you mumbled to yourself as you wrote it. “Okay.”

The second handed you a credit card which you swiped quickly, eager to get this whole encounter over with. He took it back with a bow and a smile which you struggled to return because the moment you glanced over his shoulder you caught Jungkook’s gaze, intense, warm browns peering at you like you held answers he’d been searching for. Despite yourself, you blushed and glanced back toward your notepad.

Finally, the moment of reckoning arrived and your nerves made your hands a little shaky as they clasped the pen and paper. Your eyes wavered around the space between your own hands, measuring the empty air, desperate not to look at Jungkook again.

“Um…,” he mumbled, voice a low rumble in his chest. You almost wanted to squeeze your eyes shut altogether, even though you knew how dumb that’d make you look. “Can I get a strawberry smoothie?”

You almost laughed. It was so like him to come to a coffeeshop and order something like that. It was so like him to still have a weak palate when it came to bitter things. It was so like him to chase after you that day, to show up here on coincidence. It was so like him to be exactly who you remembered him to be. Exactly who he was back then.

Slowly, once you’d written his order down, you lifted your eyes and looked at him properly at last. He was dressed well, casual as you expected, all black as you expected, handsome as you expected. His hair was half-styled out of his eyes, and those eyes were the problem really. Dark and depthless, staring down at you with furrowed brow, jaw clenched. If anyone had doubts you two knew each other before, they’d certainly know now with the way he was watching you. The way he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“Um…yeah,” he responded, blinking at you like he had more to say.

By then, his friends had begun setting up camp amongst the mismatched sofas and recliners, setting up their computers. You caught sight of a drawing tablet as its corner poked out the top of the first boy’s backpack. So they were design majors too? Maybe your blind date had met one of these guys, then. But wait. If his friends were, did that mean…

“You’re a design major?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

But once you said it, you wished to suck the words back inside like tapioca balls through a straw because across Jungkook’s face flashed a brief glimmer of excitement, eyes wide, mouth already open and poised to respond.

“Yeah!” he said, smiling a little. “I…uh, well you remember how I liked to draw.”

You nodded, typing the total into your cash register. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry about-,”

“Let’s not rehash things here,” you said, eyeing him from beneath your lashes, scanning the shop like a conspirator in search of any prying eyes, any listening ears. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve both moved on so let’s just keep it at that.”

Jungkook shut his mouth and, after a long moment, sighed. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. You hazarded a glance up at him and found his eyes long-sighted, gazing down at the counter between you without really looking at it.

“It’ll be 3,500 won,” you said, holding out one hand towards him.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if returning to himself, and yanked his wallet from the front pocket of his loose joggers. He pulled out a bill and handed it to you. 20,000. Was that the smallest bill he had on him? You examined it with a thinly-veiled scowl. Of course, he was probably making good money doing something impressive. That was Jungkook anyway. The type of guy who just…made things come to him. Like the universe responded to his will. You sighed and went to work on the old register, punching in the amount and sliding the bill inside. You produced his change to find him already bounding toward his friends with his broad back to you.

Panicked, you rushed to the side of the barista station and called out to him. “Hey! You forgot your change!” you shouted, cupping one hand around your mouth. A few patrons turned to look at you and Jungkook.

He barely glanced back at you when he said, “You can keep it.”

And suddenly you were blushing for a very different reason.

That jerk, you thought to yourself as you watched him plug away at some ad he was working on on his tablet. Evening had fallen slowly upon the city of Seoul, and you wanted nothing more than to stroll out into the lavender evening, forgetting this whole unpleasant day. But instead, you had to wait for your coworker, Sora, to relieve you after making you work fifteen minutes past the end of your shift. Scowling, you kept a hawk’s eye on Jungkook and, unbeknownst to him, wished silent curses upon his head. I hope you go bald, you thought. Or worse, I hope you go out for fried chicken and you get only tendons. You crossed your arms and lolled your head to the side.

You shouldn’t have expected Jungkook to change. He’d always been a ‘my pace’ kind of guy. Maybe leaving that tip was his way of flexing his money to you. That he had enough money to just throw around at random baristas he used to hook up with in high school. Or maybe he was pitying you, looking down on you for working such a menial job. Either way, it made your blood boil. You felt the money crinkle in the pocket of your jeans with every step.

You’d briefly considered spitting in his smoothie, but you didn’t want to lose your job over Jeon Jungkook.

After all, you’d already lost your youth to the kid.

You glanced outside and watched the rainclouds gathering. Of course, you’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. It wasn’t like you’d checked the weather on the way out. Grumpily, you glanced down at your phone to check the time. Twenty minutes late now. What did Sora have to do that was so important? Normally, you’d complain to a friend. But Sua was about the closest you had these days and you weren’t sure you could trouble her with it.

But…were you really friends if you didn’t reach out to her from time to time?

Sighing, you glanced around the shop, making sure nobody was watching you, and unlocked your phone. So much had already happened that a quick message didn’t seem reasonable, but you couldn’t very well bury your head in your phone so after every few clicks you’d sweep your gaze around. You settled for an anxious few words between nervous glances at the rest of the shop. Realistically, you were off the clock anyway. But you didn’t want any bad Yelp reviews on your behalf.

You: Sua, on God today is cursed.

You waited a few moments for a response before growing impatient. Everything was taking forever today: that interaction with Jungkook, Sora taking over your shift, and now Sua not responding. Of course, she had no obligation to. She was probably busy with her own preparation much like the other graphic design students. You had no right to expect that of her.

Wasn’t that your problem from the start? Expecting too much?

Your phone buzzed in response as your mind began to drift toward melancholy thoughts and as you slid it open your eyes went wide and your fingertips chilled as the blood rushed to your cheeks.

Blind Date: Hah…I’m not Sua, but I am willing to listen if you need it…?

Blind Date: Was wondering when I’d hear from you.

Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. You cupped a hand over your lips in horror, and just as you were about to melt into a pile of melted pride on the floor, the door swung open and a breathless Sora met your eyes with a nervous smile. You swallowed hard and pocketed your phone, offering Sora your full attention. He bowed his head to you, bending at the waist, as he approached the counter.

“I am so sorry for being late!” he shouted, loud enough for every patron to glance at him and, subsequently, you.

Your flushed face went beet red as Jungkook turned to stare at you, eyes wide. Of course, another embarrassing moment in front of that guy. “U-um, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving your hands.

He sniffled and looked up at you, eyes red with impending tears. “I really didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep after class today and-,”

“Sora, it’s cool,” you said, removing your apron and hanging it on the rack behind you. “I’m gonna go now though so I can catch my subway.”

Sora stiffened and nodded, giving you a salute before scampering behind the counter and putting on his own apron. “I really am sorry!” he called after you.

You waved a hand and rushed out onto the sidewalk, lingering beneath the awning as the rain began to drizzle from overhead. You returned your attention to your phone, pushing your hair behind your ears so you could see properly, and swallowed your nerves.

You: I…am such an idiot.

You: I’m so sorry. I was at work and I’m not supposed to be on my phone, but I just…

You: Jesus, honestly you can just delete my number. I don’t think I can look at your contact anymore without cringing.

You were poised to take a step out into the rain when your phone vibrated again and you jumped to read it with barely shaking hands.

Blind Date: No! It’s okay. Seriously.

Blind Date: I can list dumber things I’ve done today alone.

Blind Date: Besides, sounds like you need someone to talk to anyway…?

You blinked at your phone screen a few times, cocking your head to the side. Somehow, his words had calmed you down, just a little. Your flaming cheeks were cooler now when you poked one with the pad of your finger. Your heart wasn’t a hammer against your ribcage. And as you glanced over your shoulder at the window into the coffeeshop, you found Jungkook was no longer in sight. With a few texts alone, things seemed a little better.

You: I won’t bore you with all of it, haha.

You: It was more of a Sua story anyway I think.

You: I’m trying to break through that kinda hesitant first stage of friendship with her and

You: Well anyway, I’m sorry to bother you. Hope you’re doing good?

Blind Date: Haha, hey I get it. Friendships are weird. Took me a while to make any real friends this year since I was so shy.

You: You were shy?

Blind Date: Oh big time. I still don’t really know how to approach people without saying or doing something wrong.

Blind Date: Like today. I think I came across like an asshole to someone.

Blind Date: That happens a lot actually -_-

Blind Date: Being nervous makes me act weird.

You: Really? You sound really confident over text.

Blind Date: Haha really? That’s good to hear at least.

Blind Date: I’m about the least confident person I know.

Blind Date: Whew, not exactly the impression I wanted to give to a possible date! Oops.

You smiled at your phone and began typing out a response when the door by your hip swung open and out walked Jungkook and his friends. Jungkook caught your eye as your smile was slipping into a scowl and you quickly righted yourself, looking away down the busy street. You held your phone close to your chest and popped a hip out to the side, feigning disinterest.

“See you guys tomorrow,” said one boy.

“Yeah,” responded Jungkook, and you saw out the corner of your eye that the guys parted ways. Jungkook lingered beside you underneath the awning, watching you keenly. “Who were you texting?” he asked.

You stiffened and glanced up at him with a frown. “Is that any of your business?” you asked.

He flushed a little, rubbed the back of his head, and let out a few breathy laughs. “Sorry. Guess not,” he said with a sigh.

For a few moments the two of you just stood there, silent. You weren’t sure what to do next without an umbrella, and you didn’t want Jungkook to think you were just…spending time with him for fun. But still, you didn’t move or make a sound. Just watched the steadily increasing rainfall splatter against the pavement, gathering in pools beside the sidewalk.

“Listen,” he began, turning to you properly. You eyed him from below with raised brows. “I really don’t want any bad energy between us, okay? I know things were messy before, but we’re in college now. It’s been years, right?” Some of the tension between you broke, but it was quickly replaced by a new tension: your outrage.

You blinked at him, working your jaw. “Jungkook, you don’t get to tell me when I’m allowed to stop being hurt,” you said, shaking your head. “Seeing you is a little painful, even though it’s been a long time. So…maybe just ignore me.”

Jungkook sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I am.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t really want anything to do with you,” you said, meeting his eyes. Your own calm surprised you. He looked desperate, brows knit and lips parted. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just leave me alone.”

He blinked a few times, eyes wide. “I…I mean, we go to the same school now and everything. I just transferred this year and it’s…I don’t really know many people. It’s not like we’re strangers, so why should we act like we are?”

You swallowed your anger. “I’m gonna go now,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking out into the rain. You turned to look at him. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying, so it’s not worth repeating it again in a different way. Just…leave me alone.”

But before you could take a single step toward the subway entrance three blocks away, Jungkook was beside you in the rain, fiddling with his umbrella. “Wh-what are you doing? I just said to leave me alone!” you called at him over the sound of the rain around you.

Jungkook spat rainwater out from between his lips and shook his head as the umbrella finally popped open and the rain stopped pummeling you, now ricocheting off the nylon. You stared up at Jungkook underneath the dark umbrella, confined beneath it, confined to this small, enclosed space. Your chest was nearly touching his arm and his breath was warm as it fanned across your face. Strawberries. Like his smoothie. Rain was caught in his long eyelashes and his rosy lips were still parted, cheeks a warm pink. He stared down at you and for a brief moment, you felt a hot, shooting sensation running from the top of your head to your toes.

“Let me walk you to the station at least,” he said, scanning you.

You felt a little faint, and the sweet scent of his cologne only made you more disoriented. “I’m fine. It’s only a few blocks,” you said, but even you could admit your voice sounded weak.

He sighed, eyes falling to the ground. “I know I hurt you a lot back then, but…,” he began, then shook his head. “Even if it’s small, I wanna make it up to you somehow. So…let me walk you.”

You rubbed your bare forearm and inhaled sharply, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Fine,” you forced out and the two of you began walking.

“So…,” said Jungkook after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “How was your date the other day?”

You groaned. “What we’re not gonna do is this.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just curious.”

You watched your hands, clasped in front of you, and sighed. “It didn’t happen,” you said. If nothing else, at least your time with Jungkook made you remarkably comfortable talking to him about your thoughts and feelings. “We cancelled.”

“Why?” he asked, brows high.

You shrugged. “After seeing you, I was kinda crabby so…”

“It was my fault?” He pointed with his free hand to his own chest, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah but not really,” you said with an easy exhale. “It’s for the best anyway. He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t wanna end up hurting his feelings or something.”

“You’d rather be alone than risk having things end badly?” he asked.

You peered up at him. “Wonder why that is,” you mumbled before glancing away.

He sighed. “Sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The rest of the walk was silent as the two of you were forced to simply live with the words you’d exchanged, unable to do anything to alter the events that led you here. All you could do was walk forward, united under a shared umbrella for just a moment, until you ducked out from beneath it and disappeared down the subway station stairs, not even pausing for a moment to wave or say goodbye.

Blind Date: Yikes, did I really scare you off?

You raised your brows at your phone screen as the subway bumped along. It was too crowded to find a seat, so you stood cramped between a stout businessman and a high school girl, all of you holding the railing overhead for stability. You couldn’t help it, but again you smiled. After all the craziness that had come from the day, this stranger seemed to help you feel at ease.

You: Haha nope! It’d take more than that.

You: I bumped into someone I didn’t want to see, so I had to take care of that.

Blind Date: !!! Same person as before??

You: Yeah, if you can believe it lol.

Blind Date: (o_O)

Blind Date: How unlucky can a person be?

You: That’s what I’m saying. (￢_￢;)

You: That’s actually one of the things I was gonna complain to Sua about.

You: Y’know, teenage heartbreak and high school angst. Etc.

Blind Date: Hey, I said it before. I’d love to listen!

Blind Date: Aight, that was too enthusiastic. How about: I wouldn’t mind hearing you out!

You: Lol, good addendum.

You: I mean, it’s not like it’s really that serious. Just…in high school I was really shy. I didn’t have very many friends and I thought that I was fine on my own, you know?

You: But I guess I was lonelier than I thought haha. There was this really handsome guy in my class who started sitting with me on the roof at lunch. At first, neither of us really said anything. Just…sitting together.

You: But after a while, we got pretty close. Half a school year maybe. He said he came up there because the air was nice, but I had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he was a little too popular for his own good. Everyone wanted to talk to him. But he was like me.

You: Introverted, I mean.

Blind Date: Sounds like you two were good friends, then?

You: Yeah, until I caught feelings lol. Mistake.

Blind Date: You confessed??

You: Hehe…yes.

You: After a while being close, I felt really comfortable telling him anything. I told him it wasn’t like I was expecting him to date me or anything. I just wanted him to know so he could be a little more careful around me.

You: But it seemed like he reciprocated.

You: We started dating…I guess?

You: Never put a label on it, which was another mistake on my part for not asking.

You: But we did everything couples did, just…not really in front of anyone from school.

You: Never asked about that either lol.

Blind Date: Oh…

Blind Date: I mean…that doesn’t sound so good…

You: Haha, it’s probably exactly what it sounds like because once we’d been together for about a year, he ended things really suddenly. We were getting ready to apply for colleges and he was gonna go for one in a different city. He said it wouldn’t work out.

You: I fought really hard for it, but he started saying pretty mean things and I didn’t want to get hurt so I ended up conceding.

Blind Date: Mean things?

You: Things I don’t really wanna type out haha…

Blind Date: Shit! Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.

You: Hey, don’t worry! Old wounds. I should probably get over it, really.

You: No time like the present!

You: He said he never really liked me and he was only with me because he felt bad for me. Didn’t really love hearing that.

You: He said because I didn’t have friends, he pitied me. That was why he went to the roof to eat with me. Why he kissed me and all that. Took me on dates. ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌ Pretty dumb, imo, but that’s what he said and it seemed like he meant it anyway lol.

Blind Date: Y/N…

You: Hey, you asked!

Blind Date: That’s really shitty. You didn’t deserve that.

Blind Date: You carried that around with you all these years?

You: Hah, admitting it sounds kinda pathetic, huh?

You: I guess it’s not the sort of thing you just…get over. I think I really loved him too, so…

You: Anyway, seeing him now is really weird. Never thought I’d see him around here again, but suddenly he’s everywhere haha. Definitely doesn’t feel great, tbh.

You: Ew, sorry for laying all that on you. Not exactly small talk.

Blind Date: No!! Don’t apologize. I’m glad you talked to me about it. Honestly…I feel really sorry for you. It sounds like the whole thing affected you a lot. :-(

Blind Date: If it makes you feel better, I think I can understand you a little!

Blind Date: Like I said, I’m a bit shy myself. It’s not an issue of having friends, but finding good ones. It’s hard for me to socialize without saying something dumb and regretting it. So for a while, when I first started college, I isolated myself a lot. I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

Blind Date: But recently, I’ve met some people who are really kind. People who don’t judge me when I mess things up (which is often haha). They help me communicate better.

You: You communicate really well, I think :-)

Blind Date: Haha, thank you. I’m actually blushing a little, whew. Uh, I guess it’s because it’s easier to type things out. Speaking is hard because you can’t just reword things before sending them. You say it out loud and it’s forever, you know?

You: Yeah! Jeez, that actually happened to me today (—_—)

You: I’m glad someone else understands it lol

Blind Date: Yeah, me too.

By the time you received the last message, you were already back inside your apartment, soaked from the walk home. You’d used your bag to cover your phone as you walked and typed, so now the thing was slumped against your dining chair like a sopping wet creature. But still, you smiled at your phone. Even though the conversation with Jungkook had been jarring, you’d almost forgotten it after chatting with your blind date. It felt oddly vulnerable to reveal so much to him, but his reaction had been really reassuring. You set your phone aside and padded to the bathroom to dry yourself a little with a towel, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were a little flushed, eyes clear, and still smiling. You shook your head, trying to shake off your grin, but when you glanced back at your reflection it was still the same.

With the towel dangling across your shoulders, you returned to the living room and saw your phone lit up with another new text. Smiling, you unlocked it and read what he had to say.

Blind Date: Off topic, but uh…

Blind Date: Did you happen to catch the most recent episode of Game of Thrones?

Blind Date: Because I need to talk about it or I might explode.

You raised your brows and, without meaning to, you laughed. Was this okay? Was it alright to become close to someone like this again? Was it alright to be excited about someone again? You were fearful, cautious, hesitant. After everything with Jungkook, you’d found it impossible to trust people’s intentions. Were they being nice to you because they liked you or because they felt bad for you? Would you get hurt if you trusted the goodwill of the people around you?

You: Um…

You: CAN WE TALK ABOUT ARYA???

You weren’t going to talk to him again.

Well…that was your intention anyway. But by Friday, you’d spent every night up late chatting with this Nochu guy. It wasn’t like you talked about anything all that interesting or profound. Music you liked, games you played, anime you watched. You’d spent the better portion of Thursday night talking about whether Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was superior. You weren’t sure why you were compelled to respond every time his name lit up your phone. And you really weren’t sure why you were the one reaching out to him now as you sat watching your professor detail the process of molecular movement across a cell membrane.

Perhaps you’d missed making easy conversation with someone you liked talking to…

After high school, you’d become something of a recluse. You spent more nights in than out and despite doing well in your classes, you’d found yourself…slightly lonesome. That’s why when Sua gave you her number after you’d successfully finished a project together a few months ago, you’d been quick to take it. Even though it was a little scary, some small part of you wanted to trust people again.

And maybe that’s why too. Why you were sending this stupid text in the middle of your lecture.

You: Hey dude. You free today?

Blind Date: Hm? Why?

You: Idk, Burger King or smth?

Blind Date: Hehe, are you trying to revive our dead romance?

You: O.O Our romance died already? After one failed date?

Blind Date: Hahaha I mean…you can try giving it CPR if you want…?

Blind Date: Mouth-to-mouth ;-D

You: Yuck, I take it back. Our romance is dead and buried.

You: Anyway, you free?

Blind Date: Uh yeah probs later. I’ve got class until 4.

Blind Date: Does that work for your Burger King plan?

Blind Date: I know it’s hard to get a reservation at that place on short notice >.<

You: I take it all back.

You: I have plans tonight, soz.

You: Talk to ya later, weeb.

You smiled and set your phone down beside your notebook, refocusing on your professor. But your attention was quickly assuaged by your phone vibrating once more. You smirked down at it and, covertly, read the slew of oncoming text messages with a chuckle.

Blind Date: !!! That’s rude !!!

Blind Date: You can’t just offer a Burger King date and snatch it out from under me like that.

Blind Date: I’ll be mad if you jerk me around >:-(

Blind Date: You see that face? I mean BUSINESS.

You: Calm down lol, I was kidding.

You: Let’s meet at the Burger King next to the ramen place near campus?

Blind Date: Hehe, sounds good :-P

Blind Date: Ah, but don’t be too surprised when you meet me, okay?

Blind Date: I don’t want you fainting when you see my handsome face 8-)

You: Mhm, I’ll be sure not to faint.

Blind Date: I mean…a little fainting is fine…

You: Haha shut up. I’ll see you there. Looking forward to putting a face to the texts!

Blind Date: Hopefully my face doesn’t disappoint lol.

You: Yikes, mine either.

Blind Date: Yours won’t.

Blind Date: Haha, I’m sure you’ll look great. That’s what I meant.

Blind Date: Ew, all of that was hard to read. Forget I said anything hhhhhh.

You smiled fondly at your phone before sliding it into your bag. “You look kinda smitten,” said Sua from beside you.

You jumped and glanced at her as the rest of the class began packing up. She was grinning at you like a co-conspirator, brows low, knowing grin on her face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been texting someone named Blind Date during every class period for a week,” she said, cocking a brow. “I take it you guys hit it off?”

You felt yourself go warm. Not like with Jungkook the other day, but like something else. Something a little deeper than a physical reaction. Nonetheless, you cleared your throat and smiled at Sua. “He’s a good guy. I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” she asked with a laugh, flitting her hand as the two of you stood together. “Sounds boring. Get a smooch or two out of it or it’s a bust.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t really know if he’d be interested in me that way.”

“What about you?” she asked, eyeing you. “Would you be interested?”

You stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide, and opened and shut your mouth a few times. “I…,” you began, then glanced at your feet. You followed her out into the hallway where students hurried by in a flash beside you. “I mean…”

Sua paused her walking to stare back at you, her teasing grin replaced with a genuine one. “Wait, do you actually like him-like him?” she asked, eyes alight.

You stiffened, scratching your arm, and sighed. “Jeez, I don’t know! Maybe,” you said, waving your hands. “Forget it, I’ve got another class soon.”

She laughed as you maneuvered around her through the hall, calling after you. “You’re cute when you’ve got a crush!”

You sat at a booth by yourself at Burger King, waiting for your not-date to show up. It had only been a few minutes and already your anxiety was starting to speak in your ear. He’s not showing up, it whispered, You’re an idiot. And maybe you were. Looking around the fast food joint, you saw more than a few couples, sitting side-by-side or gazing at each other over fried chicken. You didn’t envy them. Not that way. Just…maybe it was the human connection you missed more than anything. Last time you’d been in this situation, you were still deeply in love with Jeon Jungkook.

You were sixteen and you sat twiddling your thumbs on a suburban bench overlooking Seoul. Trees swayed in the summer breeze and carried with them the scent of young hopefulness, naivety in the form of dogwood blossoms. You watched the uneven cityscape before you as it resisted the pull of the wind, and far in the distance, slightly glittering in the sunlight, the Han River. Jungkook had said he’d be there at exactly two. It was ten past, and you were getting a little nervous. You’d confessed not a week prior during the last week of school, and to your shock Jungkook had been receptive. He hadn’t said anything bold like ‘I like you too’ or ‘let’s date’ but he had invited you out for some ice cream and you figured that was much the same thing for him.

Maybe he’s just being nice, you thought to yourself with a sigh. You’d spent a long time picking out the right outfit, getting your hair to lay just right. And still, you didn’t feel quite up to par with him. Girls were always confessing their love for him. Guys too. What made you any different than the dozens of other hopefuls? He probably won’t come…

“Y/N!” called a voice from the winding, hilly street.

You jumped and turned, and your heart swelled as you saw Jungkook running down the sidewalk toward you, grinning from ear to ear. And that was what did you in. That sincerity, that vigor, that enthusiasm…all for you. You stood up to meet him and chuckled as he caught his breath, patting his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, panting. “My mom started lecturing me, so I got tied up.” After a few moments regaining his composure, he finally looked at you properly and when he did, you noticed his cheeks going red hot, eyes round. “Oh, wow,” he said, glancing away with a jittery laugh. “S-Sorry, you…you look really nice.”

You felt a little faint. You’d spent months pining after this kid, pining after this purity you kept glimpsing in him, and now…

He was saying you looked nice.

It was almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

You smiled at your shoes and rubbed your neck. “Th-thank you,” you said.

He laughed, nervous once more, and gave your shoulder a shove. “Hey, don’t get all clammy on me, okay? Nothing’s weird between us. Just…two pals…on a date.”

You jumped and stared up at him with unbridled surprise. “Date?” you asked, shameless hope in your voice.

He laughed, eyes turning to crescents, and nodded. “What else would it be?” Of course. Of course, since it was Jungkook, the answer was just that simple, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard and tried to manage your expression, but you couldn’t fight the smile teasing your lips. “Oh,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

He examined you for a moment, scanning you. You weren’t used to going out with friends, let alone dating. All of this was new and exhilarating to you. But you felt a sudden wave of shyness that you couldn’t fight off, and a slightly pleasant self-consciousness. You felt him looking at you, and it didn’t feel like he hated looking. You became very aware of your body, each limb, each finger. Still smiling a little, you laughed again, unsure of what else to do. These were uncharted waters, after all.

“Hm,” he said, bending down to meet your eyes. You blushed and leaned away a little, but he was blushing too and it made you feel better knowing perhaps he was just as nervous as you. “Lemme prove it.”

Your eyes went wide, but before you could say or do anything, Jungkook closed the distance between you, tipping his chin so that your lips met. His lips were warm and soft. They tasted like chapstick and banana milk. You didn’t move, not a single muscle, and perhaps this worried him because he was quick to lean away and stare down at you, fresh insecurity on display in his warm brown eyes.

“Sorry! Was that too sudden?” he asked, laughing and glancing away, down the quiet street. “Jeez, I got carried away, huh? Ha, I’m sorry.”

Before he could spiral, you took a timid step forward and pushed yourself onto your toes. Gently, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself nearer to him. He jumped and looked at you with stunned eyes. But you didn’t give him a chance to think too much, because before long you were kissing him, head tilted to the side, eyes shut. Without much pause, his hands found your waist and stayed there, respectful, unsure.

And somehow, you’d summoned the courage to do it. To kiss him back.

Because he showed up, after all.

He didn’t leave you alone…

Fifteen minutes now and you were beginning to worry. You reasoned that at least there were worse places to be stood up. A nice steakhouse, for instance. At least here you weren’t the only solo diner. But nonetheless, the feeling of a deep gut-punch was only growing. Dread and disappointment mingled into a bitter cocktail in the pit of your stomach. Wouldn’t this just be…poetic? Getting stood up for your first date after years of fear and emotional isolation?

Wouldn’t that be exactly what would happen?

Thirty minutes. At first, you tried to tell yourself he was probably just running late from a class. After all, the walk from campus alone was around seven minutes. Maybe he’d gotten released late. Maybe he’d gotten held up with a professor or classmate. You stared at your Whopper with dead eyes now, watching the cold burger as all the heat drained from it. It was too late to save it now. And perhaps it had never been meant for you to eat anyway. Maybe it was your destiny to become a vegetarian or something.

Nonetheless, you sent a text.

Even though it felt pathetic.

You: Hey, uh…we still on for Burger King?

You: No rush, haha.

You: Just a little worried…

Was this revenge for ruining the first date? Some elaborate plot to get back at you? He seemed like a really sweet guy, but so had Jungkook after all. After several minutes without a reply, you began to accept the fact that you’d been thoroughly stood up. Your throat constricted, eyes going a little hazy, and resolved to wait a little longer. Just a little.

Forty-eight minutes. No reply and no date. By then, plenty of customers had come and gone through the front doors, none of them him. You couldn’t bring yourself to take even one bite of food, the money wasted, the time wasted too. How much time had you wasted, really? How much of your life had you spent watering dead plants?

When Jungkook told you he wanted to break up, you’d been in disbelief. The two of you were close, so close it almost hurt, and the sudden end felt like a slap in the face or a jolt to the heart. You’d fought him in his room that night, the sunset turning the ends of his hair gold, turning his eyes gold too. He had no right being so handsome at a moment like that. You asked for a reason and he said he didn’t want any strings going in to college. He wanted to be unaffiliated. But you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that the time you spent together had meant so little to him, that the relationship was a dead plant from the start.

I was only dating you because I felt bad for you! he’d shouted once he’d had enough. Ever wonder why I never told anyone about us?! You’d been stunned then, stunned silent. Your brain was failing to process his words. He’d never spoken that way to you before. How much time had you spent in love? How much time had he spent pitying you? I was your only friend, for God’s sake! What did you expect me to do?!

Perhaps you’d been right after all. Perhaps giving yourself to other people was too dangerous, too painful. Perhaps loving someone wasn’t worth it, perhaps it could never be completely reciprocal. Perhaps any relationship you had would be a waste of time. Perhaps all you were destined to do was water dead plants until finally, you decided it was enough.

One hour. You stood up from your seat, wiped beneath your eyes as the tears you’d been fighting finally crested over your bottom eyelid, and carried your tray to the garbage. You slid your trash into the bin and, sniffling, wandered out toward the exit. Customers avoided walking too close to you, likely noticing the tears that were now tracking stubbornly down your cheeks. You would have wiped them, had you had the energy to care.

But all you wanted was to go home and be alone.

Alone for a while.

You pushed your way outside, taking in the fresh spring day. No more rain, even though you would have welcomed it. It could have concealed your crying, your red nose and swelling eyes. You could have cowered beneath a bus stop and nobody would have noticed you. Nobody would have noticed.

Instead, the spring day was gorgeous, teasingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and people milled about through the street, smiling and chatting easily. Sniffling, you wiped your nose and joined them, walking down the sidewalk toward the subway entrance near campus.

You were overreacting. You didn’t even know this guy that well yet. He wasn’t a boyfriend, he wasn’t someone you’d given your whole heart to. He hadn’t betrayed you, because deep down you’d expected this. Maybe that’s what upset you so much. Being proven right.

You exited the crowd of people a block from the Burger King and walked with your head down toward the subway entrance. You were about to step on to the escalator when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned slowly, eyes bleary from all the crying, and rubbed your tears away to see them clearly. Again, like he had some sort of sense for when you were most humiliated, Jungkook stepped toward you. His face was contorted in worry, thick brows knit, mouth agape as he stared down at you, scanning you.

You sniffled and nodded. “What?” you asked.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, taking you by the crook of the arm and leading you toward a more sparsely populated alley beside the sidewalk. You didn’t fight. Didn’t have it in you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his own eyes watery as he looked down at you, forcing your head up as he held it between two big, warm hands.

You kept your gaze on the dirty ground. “Let me go,” you said, but it was weak.

“Y/N…,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb against your cheek. “Jesus.”

“What?” you asked, looking at him quick, fierce. “Are you pitying me?”

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. Looking at him now, he seemed pretty shaken himself. Why did the two of you keep bumping into each other like this? “No! No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” you asked, shaking his hands off your face. “What is it, huh? Here to show off your money? Show me how good you’re doing while I’m working minimum wage? Huh? Do you like feeling superior?”

He swallowed hard, his expression revealing some sort of hurt you couldn’t name. “No! Please, it’s not that! Let me explain-,”

“No! You don’t have any right to ask me to listen to you!” you said, sobbing. You wiped your eyes with your forearm and shook your head. “Just leave me alone! Everyone!” you shouted.

Jungkook took your shoulders in his hands to keep you still and you tried a few times to shake yourself free, but to no avail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You kept crying, the ancient pain welling up from inside you like some age-old reserve finally erupting. Your body rocked with the force of your tears. “Isn’t it pathetic? The minute I start trying to reach out, I get stood up?” you asked with a manic laugh. “Doesn’t that just make you feel so good? Aren’t I pitiable?”

Jungkook’s own tears were pooling in his eyes and you could see them there, threatening to fall. “Please,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Isn’t this what you want? Someone to look down on? Someone to feel bad for?” you asked, face wet from the tears. “Can’t you just leave me alone?!” you shouted, loud enough to rouse the attention of a few people on the sidewalk behind Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook, without another word, sniffled sharply and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his strong hold for a few moments, writhing, before finally submitting. Without even meaning to, you wrapped your arms around his torso and sobbed into his black shirt. He held you close, resting his cheek on your head. You could have sworn you felt a few tears hitting your shoulder.

But before you could get too comfortable in his embrace, you pushed yourself away and stared at him, bitter, angry, from several feet away. You looked at him like a feral thing, like an alleycat. And the way he watched you was different than it was that day by the bench. It was worried now, like a shadow had crossed over his face.

“I’m sorry-,” he began.

You shook your head and shoved past him. “Don’t talk to me. Ever,” you spat as you walked by, rejoining the stream of people on the sidewalk toward the subway entrance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Sua as the two of you left class.

Half a week had passed, and you were eager for more time to distance you from that unpleasant day. You’d received a slew of texts from your blind date, all of which had gone unanswered. They ranged from the typical I’m so sorry texts to more in-depth explanations. Apparently, he’d gotten nervous. Cold feet, he’d said. Nervous for what, you didn't know and you wouldn’t ask. You were meeting at a Burger King for God’s sake. What could he have been that nervous about?

You glanced at her and offered a tight smile. “Mhm. I’m good. Just…uh…gotta get to work later so I’m thinking about that,” you said, over-explaining. Of course, lying just wasn’t for you.

Sua sighed and hooked an arm around your elbow, leaning close to you as the two of you walked down the hallway. You edged away just slightly, and it seemed she noticed as she turned to you with wide eyes. You hated to admit it, but everything with that Nochu guy had made you wary of even Sua. They did know each other after all. Had this been one big setup from the start? Were the two conspiring to hurt you?

You shook your head and patted her hand with a smile. Of course not. Of course that was crazy. But…something about this whole thing had you feeling crazy. “Sorry,” you said quietly. “Just…met up with someone from my past the other day and it didn’t feel so good.”

She raised her brows. “What? You never mentioned anyone like that before…,” she said, her brows lowering. She looked a little hurt.

You swallowed hard. “Ah, well it’s no big deal,” you said, flitting a hand with a choppy laugh. “It’s in the past for a reason.”

She pouted. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, eyeing you.

And with those words, your chest constricted a little and a small pang of guilt clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to end up hurting her. She was sweet and she wanted to be close to you. But what could you do if you just weren’t ready for that? How could you tell her you may never be ready?

Instead, you turned to her and offered a smile. “I know.”

Blind Date: Y/N…

Blind Date: Please respond. Please.

Blind Date: I really really want to explain everything to you.

Blind Date: I know I really hurt you, but I want to explain.

Blind Date: Isn’t that selfish of me?

Blind Date: To hurt you and then ask you to listen to me?

Blind Date: I’m sorry.

Blind Date: I’m selfish.

You sighed as you watched your phone. The coffeeshop was quiet, fewer patrons now that the design students had finished their projects, and you felt safer looking at the onslaught of texts that just wouldn’t stop flooding your phone. You know you can talk to me, right? That’s what Sua said. She had reached out her hand to you.

And you’d pulled back.

You eyed your phone for a long few moments. Wasn’t it time to stop running away because you were scared of being hurt? Wasn’t it time to stop expecting someone to walk all the way across the tightrope to you and start walking to meet them in the middle instead?

Wasn’t it wrong to punish people for something someone else did?

You: Hey…

You: Sorry I haven’t responded. I just needed space I think.

Blind Date: Shit, I know. I’m so sorry.

Blind Date: You know I care about you though, right?

Blind Date: You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose, right?

You: I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks haha.

You: Honestly, I probably overreacted.

You: After everything that happened with that guy I told you about, I think I’m just a little too sensitive. And I took it out on you. And that was wrong.

Blind Date: No, no! Please don’t apologize. Jesus. It’s entirely my fault. All of it.

You: Haha it’s really not. I shouldn’t hold you and him to the same standards when you’re different people. That’s on me.

Blind Date: Can I see you?

You: Huh? So suddenly? I’m working…

Blind Date: The coffeeshop on campus?

You: Yeah…

You: Don’t come right now though!

You: I won’t be able to talk to you anyway.

Blind Date: I’ll wait. When do you get off?

You: Nine…

Blind Date: I’ll see you at nine.

You blushed, staring down at your screen. Since when was he so direct like this? And why did it make your heart race, just a little?

Sua was right. You definitely had a crush…

You watched the front doors as you began cleaning up the coffeeshop. Closing time was coming soon, and with five minutes until nine you were beginning to feel that festering fear that you’d be stood up again. But as that voice returned to your mind, you were quick to quiet it. You wanted to believe in people again. You couldn’t live your life all alone.

So you swept beneath tables and propped chairs atop them. You cleaned the windows. You hummed a pop song to yourself, trying to keep your mind busy. When you glanced outside, you noticed the spring showers had returned and the rain was falling in bullets from the dark sky. With a sigh, you settled down on one of the recliners by the window, watching cars and buses and people speed by. You wondered which one would come inside despite the sign now reading ‘closed’. You wondered who this person was.

Before you realized it, you were dozing off, struggling to keep your eyes open as you reclined against the comfortable cushions. Your breathing became more rhythmic, deeper in your chest with each inhale, and you snuggled into the back of the recliner with a heavy sigh.

And that’s when you heard it. The distinctive ting of the bell dangling over the front door. Your eyes opened wide and you saw his reflection in the mirror beside you. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, hoodie up over his head and an umbrella in his hand, trailing droplets of rainwater onto the wood floor. You wanted to greet him right away, to get a proper look at him, but with your heart racing the way it was you couldn’t find the courage. It was enough for you just to respond to his texts. And now he was here, corporeal, right behind you.

You shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

“Y/N?” he called, and somehow you recognized his voice.

No way.

It couldn’t be…

You kept your eyes shut and curled your knees closer to your chest. Slowly, you heard him mill around the shop before pausing beside your recliner. His footsteps got closer, rounding the side of the chair to stand right in front of you. And, quietly, he laughed. And you were certain now. You knew exactly who he was.

You felt a warm, big hand press against the side of your head, smoothing your hair down, and heard a fond sigh. “Jeez,” he mumbled. You felt him crouch down beside your feet and his arm dropped to rest on the arm of the recliner. He gently rocked the chair back and forth for a moment, humming. “Don’t hate me too much, okay?” he asked in a whisper.

And, without another moment’s hesitation, you opened your eyes and stared right down at him. “Jungkook…?” you asked, scanning his face.

His eyes were round with shock and his whole person was wet. He gazed up at you from where he crouched on the floor and, mouth agape, said nothing. Wordlessly, you reached a hand out and touched his cheek with the pad of your index finger. Soaking wet. You sighed and pushed to your feet. Jungkook stumbled a little to accommodate you as you slipped past him to the counter. You rifled through the cabinets before producing a towel. By then, he’d followed you to the counter and was waiting on the other side. Sighing, you waved a hand, signaling for him to join you behind the register. He jumped and followed your silent command, and suddenly you were staring at his broad chest up close.

You swallowed your nerves and draped the towel atop his head. “Dry off,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter. The lights in the shop were low, and the music still bumped lowly through the stereo. It might have been romantic, if it was anyone else. “Then we can talk.”

He nodded and fluffed the towel through his hair, obscuring his face from view for a few peaceful seconds. “I…I know I have a lot to explain.”

“Yeah,” you said.

He peeked out from behind the towel with one eye, watching you. “Are you mad?”

“Fuming, actually.”

He nodded and let the towel drop to his shoulders. “I expected that,” he said with a sigh. He came to stand in front of your knees, looking right at you with enough sincerity to knock the breath from your lungs. Just like that first date. “I don’t know where to start.”

“So you know Sua?” you asked, letting your heels bounce against the counter’s cabinets.

“Ah, uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “We’re in the same major, so…”

“And you transferred here?”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “It was…no good out in Busan. I missed home too much.”

You nodded, watching your thighs on the counter. “Figures.”

He chuckled wryly. “You know me too well.”

“Thought I did.”

Carefully, he took a single step forward and you jumped, meeting his eyes like a frightened prey. “I never meant for you to carry all that with you for so long,” he said, brows knit and eyes hazy like he may cry. “I didn’t expect you to be so hurt.”

“That’s stupid,” you said. “You can’t tell someone you were only with them out of pity and expect them not to be hurt.”

“I know, I just…Jesus, I’m just stupid,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “Since I was moving away, I didn’t want you to waste your time waiting for me to come back, so I wanted to give you a clean break. Since I knew you wouldn’t wanna break up just because of distance.”

You stiffened. “You…what?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Any of it.”

You felt like you’d been hit right in the diaphragm, like when you play dodgeball and someone throws a ball at your chest. You sat up straighter and stared at him, watching him carefully. “You lied?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes seriously. It really looked like he might have cried. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep you from meeting new people and making new connections.”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone we were dating?” you asked, brow low, scanning him for any signs of insincerity.

His eyes went wide. “I…I told you before, my high school friends…they weren’t so great,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant it when I was texting you about all that. How t’s hard for me to find good people.”

“And you didn’t show up to Burger King last time because…?”

He sniffled. “I meant what I said about that too. I was…really nervous. I was scared you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me.”

You sighed. “Why weren’t you just honest with me from the start?” you asked, all animosity draining from your voice as you saw him wiping his red, swelling eyes. “Back in high school. Why didn’t you just tell me all of it then?”

He sniffed and looked away. “I was scared you’d think less of me if you knew I was so insecure. And I didn’t want you to wait for me in college, not when you could’ve been out making new friends.”

“Well, the opposite happened actually,” you said with a dry laugh. “I got really worried that any friends I made would be doing it out of pity.”

Jungkook stiffened. “You…you did?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Shit,” he breathed out, gripping his forehead with two hands. “I’m so stupid!”

Distantly, the sound of the rain picked up outside. You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at you once more, startling you with his sincerity. “I messed up so bad. I messed up everything.”

You blinked at him, standing nearly at eye-level, and slowly reached out to wipe beneath his eyes with your fingertips. “Well, you were right about one thing. I wouldn’t have accepted it had you not said what you said.”

He furrowed his brow and leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said.

He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Now that I know everything, it’s hard to be mad at you for being a jerk when you were really just being an idiot.”

He stared at you, inching forward so he rested just between your knees. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, letting out half a chuckle as you let your hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a pat.

“Really,” he said, nodding once as he stared right into your eyes.

“Jungkook, it’s-,”

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance between you, one hand grasping your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your lips. You jumped back, eyes wide, and stared at him in shock. He too looked shocked, like he hadn’t meant to do it at all. He shook his head, eyebrows knit, stuttering out syllables that didn’t add up to anything.

“I-I-you-I mean-,” he sputtered, irises shaking. You noticed no small margin of fear in his eyes, like he was terrified he’d messed things up again.

I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

The words he’d trusted you with through the screen, his sincere thoughts. He really regretted it a lot, didn’t he? Your expression softened as he continued struggling to find words, and, without even really meaning to, you wrapped your fingers around his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was too spooked to comment on it, but you slowly pulled him closer. Just like that day in high school, just like it was when you’d first entered hopefully into this fateful relationship, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes. Stunned, he was completely still for a moment before eventually his hands moved to your hips, then slid along your sides, then hooked around your lower back. You hadn’t intended it, but the kiss was getting steamier with each passing moment. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he pulled back to adjust his position before crashing into you again.

As the fever settled down, Jungkook was the first to pull away, but only by a faction so he could speak. “I love you,” he whispered.

You stared wide-eyed at him, only inches away from you, eyes heavy-lidded and forehead resting just barely against yours. “O-Okay,” you said. It was all you could manage.

He chuckled once, still embracing you as he stood between your legs. “That’s it?”

“You expect me to say it back?” you asked.

He smiled, staring down at you. “I guess not.”

“You’re gonna have to give me some time,” you said with a nod.

He nodded too, shutting his eyes as he held you close. Slowly, he moved to rest his forehead against your shoulder, resting against the crook of your neck. “I understand.”

“Like…a lot of time probably.”

“I know.”

You let out a shaky exhale and only then did you realize your hands were shaking. As silly as it seemed, this reunion was pretty jarring to your system. The foundation on which you’d rebuilt your sense of self had broken down beneath your feet, leaving you to stand among the rubble once again. Just like back then. Everything you thought you understood had been proven wrong.

But nonetheless, you smoothed your palms against his back and rubbed gently. Not to comfort him, but to comfort yourself. To let yourself know that, even though it was scary, it was okay to trust people sometimes. Self preservation shouldn’t come at the sacrifice of human connection. And even though you knew the road ahead was going to be long and that trusting Jungkook again would take a long time and a lot of work on his end, you were ready to try.

So, as the two of you left the shop under one umbrella, you drafted a text.

You: Sua, I have SO MUCH to tell you.

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redisriding · 3 years

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Tell us about yourself!

Yikes! So I didn't really know where to begin with this one, Well I was born on the banks of the river... Nah! So I googled “fun get to know me questions” and the resulting questionnaire had 371 questions. I decided to answer the first 100!

Strap yourself in, because HERE WE GO!

1. What is your full name?

Red is Riding ;)

2. What does your name mean?

Funny story, so I actually created this alias to partake in some underground hedonistic activities. When I went to start my Tumblr I just decided to use the same one because I’m not very creative and didn’t want to make up a new one. I never thought that this blog would become as popular as it has, and now I couldn’t be bothered changing the name. It does make me laugh though, if only you people knew what I used to get up to under this alias.

3. Are you named after anyone?

Little Red Riding Hood?

4. Does your name make any interesting anagrams?

I don’t think so, but maybe someone smarter than me could figure it out.

5. If you had to change your first name, what would you change it to?

I would probably change my real first name if I could as unfortunately I share it with a reasonably well known facist.

6. Where are you from?

A small European country.

7. Where were you born?

In the capital city of that small European country.

8. Where did you grow up?

In the suburbs of the capital of that small European country.

9. Who did you look like growing up?

A member of the band Hanson, if they had red hair and wore those terrible 2000’s wire rimmed glasses.

10.What are your best characteristics?

Oh gosh, isn’t it embarrassing to talk about your good traits? Especially when the way you see yourself is often so different from the way others see you.

11.What are your favorite things about yourself?

Honestly, I’ve great boobs.

12.Which of your parents are you closest to?

Depends on my mood.

13.Which of your parents are you more like?

I think physically I’m more like my mother, but my character is closer to my father.

14.Are your grandparents still married?

Yep, on one side. On the other side my grandad is dead and has been for a very long time.

15.What relative was important to you growing up & why?

I guess my grandparents, they are the only members of the extended family I ever really saw growing up. I was never close to my uncles, and my aunts and cousins all live in different countries.

16.What is one thing that you’ve never revealed to your parents?

Anything about my love life, we just don’t talk about it. Ever!

17.What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender?

I’m actually not sure. I know they had lots of other traditionally female names picked out, but I don’t know any male names they had for me. I’m not sure if they knew early on if I was going to be a girl, would make sense though.

18.What do you call your grandparents?

I call one of my grandmother’s by her first name, and my grandad, grandad.

19.What is your best physical feature?

My boobs!…I have pretty eyes too.

20.What is your biggest accomplishment?

Probably getting into University and graduating top of my class.

21.What is your biggest fear?

Having all my joints simultaneously dislocate.

22.What is your biggest regret?

The way I’ve treated certain people over the years.

23.What is your eye colour?

Blue.

24.What inspires you?

Hope that tomorrow can be better.

25.What is the most important thing in your life?

My family, and my future.

26.What has required the most courage of you in your life so far?

Hummm, I’m really not sure about this one.

27.Who is your favourite actor?

I truly could not name a single actor.

28.Who is your favourite actress?

As above.

29.Who is your favourite celebrity?

I genuinely have no idea.

30.Who is your favourite musician?

Lorde has been getting me through this quarantine, but my favourite singer/band is/are Florence + the Machine. Maybe that dates me.

31.Who’s your favourite person in the world?

I can’t choose just one!

32.What is your favourite childhood memory?

I’m very lucky, I had a really marvellous childhood. I guess I have some great memories of playing with my brother as a child, but I’m not sure I have a favourite memory.

33.What is your favourite colour?

Teal.

34.What is your favourite cultural activity?

I love going to the theatre.

35.What is your favourite drink?

Water is the thing I drink most often. I don’t like tea or coffee, and I only drink alcohol in social settings not alone of an evening.

36.What is your favourite fairytale?

I’m actually not sure. I know it’s not quite the same but I was never allowed to watch the Disney princess films growing up (a lot of which are based on fairytales) so I can’t say I am particularly attached on any. Although, in answering this question I have remembered by blog name so I probably should say Little Red Riding Hood.

37.What is your favourite food?

Potatoes, they are so wonderfully versatile, I will never get bored eating them.

38.What is your favourite holiday destination?

There is so much of the world I have not yet seen and I cannot wait until we’re allowed to travel again. The last big trip I was on was to Canada, Vancouver, and it was amazing.

39.What is your favourite ice-cream flavour?

Ice cream does not agree with me at all, I always thought I was lactose intolerant because of it (I’m not), but I did love a pistachio ice cream as a kid.

40.What is your favourite music genre?

According to Spotify my most listened to genre is “alternative” whatever that means.

41.What is your favourite physical activity?

Hiking.

42.What is your favourite quote?

I don’t believe I have one. I do know someone who has “live laugh love” tattooed on their foot. Take from that what you will.

43.What is your favourite snack?

Tbh I don't really snack (am I coming across as awfully boring in these questions?) I love three big meals a day. I will eat an apple or something if I need something pre dinner.

44.What is your favourite song?

Either Fascination by Alphabeat, Prayer in C by Lily Wood and the Prick, and Robin Schulz, or Brimful of Asha by Cornershop, the Fat Boy Slim Remix. Those songs never fail to put me in a good mood when I need it.

45.What is your favourite sport?

To watch? Rugby. But I am OBSESSED with the Olympics, especially the winter olympics.

46.What is your favourite time of the day?

Early evening.

47.What is your favourite type of clothing?

Dresses…with pockets! Or jumpers, I love a big wooly jumper.

48.What is your favourite way to pass time?

Read.

49.What is the name of your favourite restaurant?

My favourite restaurant is called Dishoom, but unfortunately it has yet to make it to my little European country, so it’s a real treat if I get to eat there.

50.What is your all-time favourite town or city? Why?

I don’t have one.

51.What is your favourite candle scent?

Probably a classic vanilla, but not an overpowering one. The vanilla candle from IKEA is the NICEST.

52.What is your favourite social media channel?

Probably Twitter, although Tumblr is my place for escape.

53.Where’s your favourite place to take an out-of-town guest?

Ugh I hate being the one to choose where we go. I think it’s because I’m a Libra.

54.What was your favourite subject in High School?

Okay now this is a fun fact, I didn’t actually go to school. I was “Home Educated” which is ideologically different form being Home Schooled. There was no curriculum for me to follow so I could basically dick about doing whatever I wanted during the day. I did study Law which I really enjoyed, and I went onto study it at University.

55.What was your least favourite subject in High School?

Again see above. Although I do remember crying every time my father tried to teach me maths. To this day, I’m still not sure how to work out a percentage, let alone anything more advanced than that.

56.What was your favourite TV show when you were a child?

Sabrina the Teenage Witch (the Melissa Joan Heart version) or anything with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen in it (have I dated myself again?)

57.What do you love about your favourite TV Show?

They were fun. I wanted to be them!

58.Are you scared of heights?

Nope, but I’m scared of falling and shattering all the bones in my legs.

59.Are you high maintenance?

Definitely not.

60.Are you more inclined to “build your own empire” or unleash the potential of others?

I don’t know what this means, but fuck imperialism.

61.Are you more likely to avoid conflict or engage it head-on?

Ugh, I hate conflict, like I go all trembly, but if there is something amiss I can’t not confront it.

62.Are you a dog person or cat person?

I really adore animals, I had hoped to get a cat during this long and lonely lockdown but my landlord wasn’t keen. If I had more time and space I would love to get a dog, it’s just not feasible in my life at the moment.

63.Are you a fan of any sports team?

Just my national team no matter what the sport.

64.Are you a good cook?

I like to think so.

65.Are you an early adopter or late-adopter?

Depends. I don’t always love change.

66.If you had more courage what would you do differently in your life now?

I don’t think having more courage would change anything in my life right now.

67.What is good about how you are living your life right now?

Oh gosh, I’m so incredibly lucky to have the like that I am living right now. Truly blessed, but at the same time, I have got here because of all my hard work and determination.

68.If you could eliminate one weakness or limitation in your life, what would it be?

I’m not sure if this strictly answers the question, but I wish I could be kinder and more sympathetic to people. I can be harsh on people I care about because I want to see them do well in life and get frustrated when they are doing things that so obviously curtails their ability. I’ve lost friends because of it.

69.Who has left the most impact on your life?

I don’t think I can name just one person.

70.What aspect of your life needs tremendous improvement?

My love life. It’s not existent. Truly. I don’t even have a far away crush on anyone at the moment. I desperately want to experience romantic love, but it’s scary and you have to allow yourself to be soft and vulnerable which is not something that I am very good at. I also have a lot of negative thoughts/self doubts about whether I am good enough to be in a relationship, or worthy enough for love. It’s stupid, obviously, everyone, flaws and all is worthy of love, but because of things that have happened/been said to me I do kind of have this negative chatter of “who could ever love me” or fear people thinking “god love the poor guy who ends up with her.” All that said, I have never actually met anyone who I’ve really liked, let alone anyone who has liked me back. The closest I’ve got, is I’ve been in lust twice in my life with guys, who objectively speaking, I would never think I would be attracted to.

71.What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen in your life?

I’ve see a lot of weird things tbh, but the first one that springs to mind is that every year we used to go to these big gatherings of families who home educate their children. Now, there are two groups of people that tend to home educate their children 1) EXTREMELY religious families who don’t want their children going to secular schools, and 2) new age hippies who don’t want their children to have to conform to the rigours of school. When these two groups meet…it is interesting. The religious families usually have a lot of children (10+ in many cases), while the hippy families wander around semi-nude and breast feed their children until their grown (7+ years in many cases). So at these home education conferences, the hippy parents would be wandering around, leaky boobs out, and the religious babies would be wandering around because their parents have too many children to keep track of. Whenever one of these babies wandered within range of the hippy parents, they’d take them, and latch them onto their breasts. Absolutely bizarre stuff.

72.Who is the best teacher you’ve ever had?

Myself.

73.Who is the biggest pack rat you know?

I don’t know what this means.

74.Who is the first person you call when something exciting happens?

If it’s a big enough deal to call someone, I’ll call my parents, but usually if something exciting happens I’ll just message my friend group.

75.Who is the first person you call when something horrible happens?

Same as above.

76.Who is the worst boss you’ve ever had?

I had to sue her to get her and her husband to pay me for the work I did.

77.Can you close your eyes and raise your eyebrows?

Yep? Can you not?

78.Can you do a split?

No, but I want to learn! I have really tight hamstrings so that would be good to stretch them.

79.Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

No. Can you?

80.Can you whistle?

Yeah.

81.Can you dance?

Everyone can dance, the question is whether you can dance well or not! I have no rhythm or style, but get me on a dance floor and I’ll bop my socks off.

82.Do you remember your dreams?

Sometimes.

83.Do you save old greeting cards and letters? Throw them away?

I save them for a while, but I’m not overly sentimental.

84.Do you sing in the shower?

Never.

85.Do you sleep with the lights on or off?

Off.

86.Do you spell the colour as grey or gray?

Grey you weirdo!

87.Do you take any pills or medication daily?

Never.

88.Do you prefer kissing or cuddling?

I like kissing because it’s hot and fiery and I think I’m reasonably good at it. Cuddling is the best but it’s something I struggle with as I find it far too intimate. See my answer to Q70.

89.Do you prefer that people shoot straight with you or temper their words? Why?

Hit me between the eyeballs with the truth, please! I just like people who are clear and direct about their intentions, it means everyone knows where they stand.

90.Do you prefer Titanic or The Notebook?

I saw a black and white documentary about the Titanic when I was a very small child (maybe about 5 or 6) and for a long time I thought that was the movie Titanic! I have seen neither the real film Titanic nor the Notebook, although from what I know of the latter I don’t think it would be my thing.

91.Do you have a catchphrase?

I don’t think so, but maybe people in my life would be better at answering this question. What is it that I say a lot?

92.Do you have a garden?

I wish!

93.Do you have a hidden dream that you’ve never shared with anyone?

I’m taking this to mean a goal or aspiration, and not something that I have subconsciously dreamed and been too embarrassed to share? I would love to write a book one day. I’m work on something periodically but I’m not sure if anything will ever come from it, a gal can dream though!

94.Do you have a tattoo?

None! I’m kind of a commitment-phobe, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed?

95.Do you have a whole lot of acquaintances or just a few very close friends? Why?

Both! I know lots of people in passing, but the people I consider actual friends, who know what is going on in my life at any given time, I could count on my fingers.

96.Do you have any allergies?

Not that I’m aware of…

97.Do you have any birthmarks? If so, where?

I used to have one on my back, but it’s faded as I’ve aged.

98.Do you have pets?

Not at the moment.

99.Do you hold any convictions that you would be willing to die for?

That is a big question. I think however, if there was a guarantee, that sacrificing my life would make the lives of others immeasurably better, I would be scarified. I have plenty of convictions that I’m willing to protest/riot/go to prison for.

100.Do you carry a donor card?

Bit ominous after Q99 but yes I do, and my driver’s licence states that I’m a donor.

I’m not sure if this is at all what you were hoping for in asking this, but I honestly had the best fun answering these questions! :)

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donaidk · 3 years

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This isn't really F1 related but I really hope you don't mind me asking. I saw you mentioning first hand experiences with sexism and how you think about giving up dreams because of fears. As someone who's about to go into university could you tell me what you mean with those experiences. What happened? Ofc if it's triggering for you please just ignore this but thank you for your help if you can talk about it 💝

Hi Anon! Luckily it’s not triggering me in a way that I can’t talk about, just mostly makes me angry and tired mentally. But if it can help someone I will gladly talk about it and show you how it affects me personally. I wanna highlight the word personally because we are all different and what hurts me could be nothing special for someone else. Also, one more important thing, I don’t think that every male human being is the devil and please never think about everybody as someone who wanna hurt you, as most of them are probably normal people. But maybe let’s start from where it all started as I want you to see the whole picture if you’re asking for true help ☺️

Warning: Long, not so happy post mentioning different kinds of sexism around university studies and working somewhere that’s usually filled with mostly males

To start off: I'm not someone to take unhelpful and toxic criticism from anyone. I like to think that I'm aware what I'm capable of and who I truly am, without others trying to tell me how someone should act, speak and think. My family raised me to make my own decisions and navigate life in a way that makes me happy and not others who think they have a say in my life. That's why, most of the time, I did achieve what I set out as a goal for myself. It's never easy and everyone has breakdowns, sometimes more than they should when they tend to overthink situations. However, hitting your goals and getting to live a life which you imagined for yourself never comes easy, but people will never see the behind the scenes struggles you had on the way to your current position. So please, take my experiences with a grain of salt and if you wanna try yourself at something don’t hold back just because someone had bad experiences in the field. (Although, please do not choose it if you know for sure it will only hurt you!)

So the whole story: Back in May last year I imagined the last past months quite differently. I envisioned my family being proud of me for reaching a milestone successfully, meeting new - more mature - people who will finally look at me for who I am inside and not outside and also getting to study something that brought a smile to my face every second of the day when I was thinking about it. I choose my university carefully, knowing full well how none of them will be easy to complete, but at least wanted to enjoy the years I was about to commit to the community there. I had friends and aquintances, from both genders, telling me how much they enjoyed spending their Bachelor and Masters study time here and how it was such a loving community all around. I was ecstatic when I got the text that I got in, and throughout the whole summer I couldn't wait to start my first semester.

Fast forward to September/October right before all hell broke loose. I made quite a few friends, got to be part of a fantastic study group which stayed together even when we changed to online learning and most importantly loved everything I got to study. Yes, there were a few classes which were hard or seemed unnecessary but I still enjoyed them and thought I did quite well compared to how it was such a deep dive after high school. Then I slowly got a taste of a side of everything I knew will be there but hoped will somehow stay away from me. These are the first hand experiences I also mentioned under this Susie post as it was the whole point where I thought back to everything. The list goes like this:

Almost failing a class just because our female teacher thinks all girls sleep around or flirt their way through uni with all the male teachers/tutors, and thinks we have to be punished through making us fail no matter our knowledge of the class. I got given a thesis that i knew word-by-word, which was my fave to learn, and I still was clawing for the second grade in our system. Fair, right?

We have a teacher who's known for letting girls who dress pretty just for his class pass his class easier while he makes it hell for the others (girls, boys are graded for what they actually give in). It's common knowledge and looked at like it's completely normal behaviour.

In one class we have to send in homework and we can get 0-1 point for it, depending on how well it works. If you don't send it in you get -1, and at the end of the semester you have to have at least 0 points all together. But if you can't send it in, you have one more chance to do so in the next 7 days for 0 points no matter if it works or not. This is something every student gets to use and it's not a personal advantage. However, one of the boys in my class probably didn't pay attention and didn't know about it. Why is it important you may ask. Well, because when he heard me ask about it in his opinion I'm 'a bitch who uses her gender to get better grades and pass uni easier than others'.

The same boy has been harrassing two other girls in dms and made fun of them for their tiny mistakes. He also called me a bitch once again right in front of the whole class and our young male tutor (who I have to add I love because he's always helpful and never looks at us different), making the whole situation truly awkward.

Getting told by another student that they would be willing to share notes to me if I wore more feminine clothing and laughing about his comment with his mates.

Family members saying I probably chose what I did because I would have mostly just boys around me and that I should just give up if I feel like this is my only chance at finding a partner. At the age of fucking 19, where I'm sorry, but I had more important things to experience than chasing after boys who were all immature compared to what I was looking for. Same person saying that he thought I wouldn't be one for adult work, as it usually ends with us sleeping around for titles and positions anyways.

I also have to add again that these are of course the extremes, and at the same time I know several fantastic students and teachers who I love with my whole heart from both genders. But every memory gets stained when you get into situations like the ones mentioned above. It also makes me scared about the male-oriented atmosphere I'll have to work in, if the one I have right now, which is deemed a safe environment for all, already showed signs for being dangerous. It's also probably worse online as people get bolder by not having to show their faces or name while making comments and saying shit. But I still don’t want to let this change my mind about something I spent years on building up the plans for. Even if it will be hard I want to show that their stupid opinions won’t break me and will never stop me from achieving the final dream of mine.

Even though we are living in the change, it’s still not fully here and in my opinion won’t be here for quite a bit. But you can take part in it and help it move forward. I do change back and forth between getting my energy from these and letting it break me as I’m a human with feelings and not a robot, but what matters is which side will win in the end. Even if you feel like giving up, just try getting on with the next day. If the bad side can’t stay for long it won’t be the winner.

It’s a lot easier to get through if you have friends who support you, but it’s never gonna be actually easy. Things like this will hurt you, but also make you stronger in my opinion. It’s important that you know who you are and what you are like, and not just take everything that’s thrown at you. People who are trying to hurt you are cowards and deserve no attention. You’re the one living with yourself and the only one who actually knows who are you inside. Never let them change you!

I’m sorry for the late answer, but I wanted to truly think about this and not just give a quick and short answer that means nothing to someone who reads it. I probably went in circles a little bit but hope it makes sense. I also truly hope that you will enjoy university and that situations like these will stay out of your experiences throughout the years. Remember, that these aren’t setbacks, just hurdles that you will be able to jump over either today or tomorrow or another day. Just take everything as it comes and make your decisions only for yourself. Love ya and good luck 🧡

#tw sexism #dona's uni life #dona goes to ramble town #i probably don't make sense #even though i tried hard to build it up logically #if you have any questions still please message me again #i will try my best to explain it better #ask #donask #answered #anon

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lilmissbeanie · 4 years

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Haikyuu Masterlist

Koshi Sugawara x F!Reader

Song - Never Seen Anything (Quite Like You) by The Script

Word Count - 2.6K

Genre ~ SFW Fluff

Posted ~ 17/07/20

The first time he saw her was when she transferred into his class in the second year of high school. He couldn't take his eyes off her, her hair tied up in a low ponytail and pulled it around resting on her left shoulder as she twirled the end around her finger, later discovering it was what she always did it when she was worried or nervous about something. And god did he find it cute.

It didn't take him long to meet her as Kyoko had befriended her pretty quick and she quickly became one of the team as she was regularly come and watch them practice, becoming a joint manager with Kyoko. The first time he got the confidence to ask her out was to the school festival. He was so happy when she agreed to go with him. They were having a lovely time until the rest of the team found them and joined them. So the first date didn't exactly go as he planned. Suga didn't let him stop him, during the week once he found out that practice was cancelled on Saturday, he was already at your desk asking if you wanted to go out together for coffee and see where the day takes them.

That was the first of many dates, it wasn't long till they were together. Noya and Tanaka were jealous of Suga, he had bagged himself a goddess, as they called her, but they still had Kyoko to dote on anyway even if she didn't give them the time of day. (Y/N) supported Suga in every way she could, from being at practices and aiding with the new first years. She was so proud of him when he made Vice-captain on the team, and when they got to national, she practically floored him with joy when they won against Shiratorizawa.

She was by his side the whole time they were at national, not wanting to miss a single match, even if they did lose in the quarter-finals she was still so proud of them. After graduation, they ended up in the same university, while Suga studied to be a primary school teacher, (Y/N) choose (degree). They got an apartment together, enjoying coming home to each other, being able to snuggle up on the sofa, watching some junk on TV. His favourite days was when he would go back home, after a long hard day of lectures and it was one of her days off, she would be in one of his hoodies that was far too big for her, half hanging off her shoulder, as she danced around the kitchen baking some kind of goodie to some of her favourite songs. She had gradually gotten more comfortable over time with him, not wearing her make up around him. Suga didn't care if she did or didn't wear makeup or if she was a mess, or in those old faded jeans that she loved, they had paint stains on from the time she helped her grandparents decorate, to him she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

When they graduated university, he got the confidence up to ask her father permission for your hand in marriage, her parents absolutely loved him, he was the kinda guy they always wanted for there daughter, but even so (F/N) couldn't help but tease Suga a little when he asked, but her father said yes he could marry his only daughter.

He had everything planned, he had picked her favourite gemstone has for the ring with diamonds surrounding the gem. He took her away for the weekend to the beach and to a nice restaurant. While walking down the beach barefoot enjoying one another company, he finally got up the courage to ask.

"(Y/N) the past six years together have been the greatest six years, I didn't think I could love a girl as much as I love you." Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasps as she watched him get down on one knee, opening the small box in his hand, (Y/N) saw the (gemstone) surrounded by diamonds set on a platinum ring, it was the ring she had always wanted, how did he know, the only people she had told was, Kyoko, Yachi and the other managers at the summer training camp back in their third year.

"We have supported each other through thick and thin, we may have had our ups and downs, but we still got through them together, so I wish to ask you, will you continue to go through those ups and down's with me for the rest of our lives? Will you please become my wife?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes with the biggest grin on her face "Yes! Yes, I will happily marry you!" Slipping the ring on her finger, she launched herself at him tackling him into the soft sand below them, her lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Pulling away they lead together on the sand, (Y/N) snuggled into the light grey-haired boy side, he was over the moon, he watched as his fiancee gazed at her ring in the moonlight.

"How did you know that I loved (gemstone)"

"Do you remember when you and the other managers were talking about what kinda ring you would love if you got engaged, Kyoko had recorded you describe yours and send it to me. I have kept that mind for the last five years."

"Five years? I love you so much, Koshi, thank you. I am going to have thank Kyoko for this too." She giggled, that was the giggle he wanted to hear for the rest of his life, it was like music to his ears.

"I love you to my angel."

A year later they were married, it was a small affair, the old Karasuno team was there along with a few from Nekoma and Fukurodani, and of course both of their families. Of course, Daichi was the best man and (Y/N) had Yachi, and Kyoko has her bridesmaids, Kyoko as her maid of honour.

Suga, was in tears when she walked down the aisle to him, in her beautiful white princess style dress with a v-shaped neckline, the bodice of her dress had a decorative layer of lace that ran down her arms, her light makeup and her hair in a mixture of intricate braids and curls that was pulled into a bun. He still couldn't believe that this beautiful women in front of him was about to become his wife. The ceremony was beautiful and sweet, the wedding breakfast was full of tears and laughter from speeches. When it came to the first dance everyone watched the pair as they gently dance around the floor, nothing special just being closed to one another and enjoying each others company, Suga had an arm wrapped around (Y/N) waist while hers was wrapped around her back and placed on his shoulder, their hands linked together as they dance to Better Together by Jack Johnson, their song. Soon everyone was dancing, it was a lovely evening party with everyone having fun and being merry, watching Tanaka and Kyoko together was beautiful, they had finally gotten together and had married early in the year. Noya had come back from his travels for both the weddings.

The honeymoon was a surprise from their parents, they didn't know where they were going, but their parents convinced them to let them pay for it. The car drove them to the airport with their luggage in the boot, they had no clue what was pack, the best man and maid of honour had packed, knowing where their parents were sending them. It wasn't till they got to the airport and checked in that they discovered they were going to the Maldives. Once they finally arrived there villa was beautiful, right one the beach yet secluded enough to give all the privacy they needed.

Two weeks later, after the very eventful and memorable honeymoon, they returned, moved into their new house and were back to work, Suga returning to his job as a primary school teacher. While (Y/N) enjoyed the daily dose of her (career). Two years into their marriage, they discovered that they were pregnant with their first child. Of course, they were over the moon having been trying for the last year and a half it was finally happening when they decided to stop trying and let it happen when it happens.

Suga was over the moon and so excited, his wife had started maternity leave at seven months, and he loved sneaking into the house watching head do odd things around the house from cooking to just sat on the sofa reading a parenting book. He had tried to convince her to take it easy, but (Y/N) reminded him that was wasn't a fragile piece of glass and she would get easily bored if she just sat around watching tv or reading books. It was at that moment he was glad for the cordless vacuum so she didn't have to bend over to plug it in and it was much lighter than that old one they had.

He smiled just having come home from work, he had opened the door quietly sneaking into the house so his wife wouldn't be aware of his presence, her pregnancy glow just made him love her so much more, there she was sat on the sofa, with her feet propped up out in front of her, noticing that her ankles had begun to swell again, he was happy to massage them for her. He watched as she was reading a children's book out loud to there little peanut, the nickname they gave the baby, neither wanted to know the gender looking forward to the surprise. The midwife had said talking to the baby was an excellent way to get the baby to know their parents' voice.

"Why didn't you know, his eyes are orange, his tongue is black, and he has purple prickles over his back-" (Y/N) was rereading the Gruffalo. Having become a little obsessed with those books, Suga was pretty sure that (Y/N) didn't need the book any more, she must have to know the words off by heart by now, from the Gruffalo to Room on the Broom and Zog, even he knew the works off by heart, but his personal favourite was Each Peach Pear Plum and Polar Bolero. (You have no clue how long it took me to find and remember the name of this book)

He watched her continue to read the book, not wanting to disturb until she was finished, he loved the fact that she gave voices to each of the characters each was different.

"You love that story, don't you, my angel." Suga walked over, placing a gentle kiss on her lips, before cupping her swollen belly, "Did mummy read you the Gruffalo again? Did you enjoy it?" Receiving a kickback they both couldn't help but laugh at either the enthusiasm or dislike to the story.

When (Y/N) water broke, Suga was at work and (Y/N) was spending time with Kyoko, who had also recently found out she was two months pregnant, she was telling (Y/N) about how Tanaka had reacted. Which was highly entertaining, he was gobsmacked and then jumped around for joy as he usually did.

As Kyoko drove (Y/N) to the hospital there was a call to Suga telling him what was happening and to meet them at the hospital, the school had been very understanding and let him leave the second he found out just beating the girls to the hospital. (Y/N) was placed on the hospital bed and rushed to the delivery room with Suga by her side. Kyoko waited in the waiting room contacting, both of Suga and (Y/N) parents first, then the Karasuno team. All of them, when I say all of them I mean, Daichi, Tanaka, Ennoshita, Yamaguchi, Asahi, Yachi, the to be grandparents, as well as their siblings. Were waiting outside in the waiting room by the room that (Y/N) was taken into. Kageyama, Tsukki and Hinata were travelling down together from Tokyo as they waited, and Noya was on the next flight back to Japan from Australia.

One thing that (Y/N) would be eternally for is the fact that her mother had passed on her short labours to her, still being their first child it was eight hours, but she had heard of women go through twenty-four to forty-eight and more.

Suga appeared at the door holding a little bundle wrapped in pink, and behind him, his wife was being pushed out in a wheelchair to be taken to her new room to rest, she was also holding a bundle but wrapped in blue.

"Twins?!" Hinata squeaked, having made into the hospital with Kageyama an hour ago, the new parents nodded, with grins on their faces.

"This little one was hidden behind her brother. That's why she never came up on the ultrasounds" All of them followed after the new parents towards the new room, the nurse saying that only family was allowed but was very taken back when (Y/N) and Suga said they were family. Once (Y/N) was settled into the new bed. The twins in the bassinets, they came to meet the latest additions to the family, they had named the baby boy Hiroaki and they baby girl Nishi, everyone was cooing over them, the twins were going to have eight uncles on top of the siblings that the new parents already had, what (Y/N) couldn't believe was how taken Tsukki was by Nishi, that girl was going to be spoilt by him. After twenty minutes, everyone left to let (Y/N) rest and said they would be back tomorrow.

"Koshi, look at our beautiful babies." (Y/N) gushed as she watched the twins sleep from where she was laying on the bed.

"You did so well my angel, I didn't know you had such strength." He winked at her grinning as he remembered the fact he was sure she nearly broke his hand, she had most definitely cut off the circulation in his hand with that grip. Suga leaned down, brushing her hair away from her forehead, placing a kiss there.

"Thank you for giving me the greatest gift ever. Now you get some sleep I will stay here with you." Climbing into the bed next to (Y/N) that the nurse had brought in for him.

Suga had been given leave from work, the twins being born not long before the summer holidays anyway so an extra month he was grateful for so he would be able to help his wife with the twins, but he had to promise to bring the children in for his colleagues to meet as well as his young students, as they have been so excited that their favourite teacher was having a baby.

Suga has always been so in love with his wife, but the look of her in the nursery holding the small bundle in her arms as she rocked Hiroaki back to sleep after his feed. He was in such awe of how beautiful the look of motherhood suited her. Even with the slight bags that were forming under her eyes, her hair was askew from the sleep she had been awoken from. He was quite impressed with how she slotted into motherhood, she was a natural. The twins were also so well behaved, they only cried when they needed feeding or to be changed, they slept most of the nights but they did wake rather early. The look of motherhood on his wife was his favourite look he had seen on her. He had never seen anything quite like her tonight.

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#suga #sugawara x reader #sugawara x y/n #sugawara x you #sugawar koshi #parent!suga #fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu! fluff #beanie💕#beanie✍#beanie🏐#beanie🌸#beanie🎶

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poptod · 4 years

Text

Latibule (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Ahk’s time at Cambridge.

Notes: Takes place in 1942. Can be read as Male!Reader or F!Reader disguised as a male (40’s wasn’t the best time for female students.) Either way, gender neutral!

Professor Wilkins’ record collection is filled to the brim with classics, you note, filing through them for the perfect music. Rain patters outside, and the dusty library is alight with a nearby fireplace. Two student sit opposite each other, reading their own separate books and sparing glances at each other every now and then, the fire casting dancing shadows along their faces. You, on the other hand, are still looking through Wilkins’ collection, ranging from Beethoven to Glenn Miller and Ella Fitzgerald. The worn corners of the cases are soft against your calloused fingers, and at last you pull a random vinyl out, setting it on the old phonograph you’d been allowed to use for the evening. Copland comes on, an orchestral piece - not one you know, surprisingly. With that the rain outside mutes under the tones of the vinyl and the crackling of the fire, and you set out in search of books covering your study topic.

You’d come to Cambridge for exactly one reason: to study Egyptology. But, with Egyptology comes a massive range of other historical components, including Greece, Rome, and a good amount of the Middle East in general, as well as India and China. They all connect, like an old world trade, and though all that interests you is Egypt, the other subjects are ones you are required to learn. Much like your technique with the records your fingers skim along the binds of the many books, dust falling off them to coat your fingertips a duller shade. From the phonograph a woman begins to sing, and it draws you deeper into your search - through sections D to F, till you reach the author you’re looking for.

It’s a decent sized book, about as thick as your arm, and bigger than your face. This one, however, is recently used, the bindings flimsy and worn but mostly clean. When you open it, the cover slams down on the table with a crack, striking you for a moment as odd before you dig out your own notebook from your leather satchel. Pencil in hand, you take notes as the sun sets invisibly behind the amassing clouds, and the rain grows heavy with thunder striking its’ occasional beat. It isn’t long till you’re flipping the record over, and the students previously reading in front of the fire tap your shoulder, and helpfully inform you that the library is closing soon. Blearily, you nod, half hearing their words - university brings a level of exhaustion unknown to any other student or worker.

Reading over the inventions of Rome and their connection to Egypt, you don’t notice when the fire dies away, and you don’t notice the needle slipping off the record while it still spins. This specific library, in this specific wing of the building, is filled with artifacts from the various cultures you study - perhaps it’s a show of achievement, or a weak attempt to make students feel closer to their classes and studies, but all it does is unsettle you. Unopened mummies stare blankly ahead, golden skin reflecting in the dimming light, jewelry shining and various weapons hanging in their simplistic design.

There was one exhibit, however, that held a very special place in your heart purely because of how much it terrified you. Comparably it’s recently discovered, around five years ago - you can’t remember the exact date, but it’s set in the introductory plate in front if it. Glass protects it from being stolen, and dust gathers on the golden tablet; dubbed the Tablet of Ahkmenrah. Not very much is known about Ahkmenrah, not even his age, nor if Ahkmenrah is his real name, and no one can quite pinpoint the era either. If the name is correct, that places him more around the twelfth dynasty of the Middle Kingdom, but the wrappings and tomb design place him in the era of the Old Kingdom. Names aren’t everything, you know that, and you’re one of the believers that place him in the Old Kingdom, though which dynasty exactly is unknown.

The library closes as evening approaches, but you don’t notice, enraptured in the history of Rome’s invasion of Egypt. A light shines behind you, the only thing to bring you out of your reading. Turning around, you see the tablet glow - you squint your eyes, wondering if you’re hallucinating, or if there’s a play on your eyes, but no. It’s definitely glowing, humming almost, an ethereal tone so unearthly you’d never be able to recall it without hearing it again. In one final burst of light that fills the whole of the small library there’s a sudden breath in the air - fresh, and living, and a deep discomfort settles low in your stomach.

From the corner of the library you hear a moan, sounding pained and confused, which only makes you panic more. On instinct you go to the doors, your heart racing at a dangerously fast pace when you find them locked. The moaning gets louder, accompanied by a dull thudding, and the explorer in you takes hold of your nerves. There’s something there, something undiscovered, you just know it - all you need to do is step forward.

Easier said than done - a fight or flight response has decided to opt out, and what you’re left is a petrified, tense stance, which you’re fully aware is a reaction of prey. Like a deer in headlights. An especially loud thump breaks you out of the trance, which you’re half thankful for, but the noise increases and you’re left with more fear. Your steps are slow, cautious, and unbalanced - all the necessary things for a growing student. You make it to the exhibit without trouble, and somehow unsurprisingly, it’s Ahkmenrah’s casket, locked away in a glass case.

Twice you knock on the glass, gentle, and the rattling of the coffin stops. Then, two knocks, mimicking you. Your breath catches as you realize there’s something in there, some thing alive and well enough to recognize patterns, enough to recognize that you’re there without seeing you.

This is a cruel trick, you think to yourself. You’re not exactly important enough to be bullied at this school, but it’s not too far of a reach to say some math students could pull this off. All of it is too good to be true; a pathway into history, a skeleton come to life. Fumbling to your pockets you search for a paper clip, anything you could open the glass case with, and you come up empty. Once more you knock on the glass, the same pattern, and it is returned. With a calming breath, you go in search of paper clips.

There’s one on your desk, keeping some of your loose paper together, and faster than you can think you whip it off and put old skills to use. The illegality of it all doesn’t hit you, not even as your fingers trace over the gold plated sarcophagus, over the lapis design and black outlining. Twice you knock, and the thing inside responds in kind. One more shaky breath, you fiddle with the different knobs at the side, and with a click it opens.

Slowly, the door opens, and half what you expected and half what you were afraid of comes out - a man covered entirely in centuries old wrappings. His hands, fingers forced together, paw at the back of his head as he attempts to undo the restricting cloth. A million thoughts cross your mind, including that this has to be dangerous, and that he won’t understand you, and that he might kill you if your professor doesn’t.

“Uh…” you try to speak, but he’s still very clearly busy trying to unwrap himself. Hesitantly you move forward, reaching to help him, but he’s finally got it. Like a gift he pulls his mask away from his face, and what you see is nothing within the realm of what you expected.

“Oh my. You look surprisingly normal,” you blurt out, knowing full well he won’t know what you’re saying. He narrows his eyes, confused and more innocent than you expected - this boy can’t be older than 18, which is only a year younger than you. He says something in his own language, a dead one you’ve never heard before.

“Do…” you try to think of a word he knows, something he’ll recognize, when it comes to you - “You’re from Kemet… right?”

To your knowledge and your teachers’ knowledge Kemet is what they call their home, Egypt, and you pray to God he understands you. A spark shines in his eyes as he smiles, pointing at you when you say the word.

“Kemet!” He says in a joyously childish tone, grinning brightly with teeth much cleaner than what you expected. For another moment you stare at each other, him trying to decipher who you are, why you look the way you do, and what clothes you’re wearing, while you try to think of a way to tell him where he is.

“Kemet,” you say, pointing at him, “England,” you say, pointing at yourself.

“Enlan,” he replies, trying to mimic you. Giggling, you shake your head.

“England,” you say again, over pronouncing it. He nods, furrowing his brows in concentration.

“Enngland.”

Enthusiastically you nod, smiling just as bright as he is. Stuttering you take his hand, leading him to one of the cushy chairs in front of the fire place, which is now barely glowing red, the remaining embers buried in ash.

“Ahkmenrah?” You ask, gesturing to him. His mouth opens slightly - he’s confused, but he nods. He says something odd, but it ends in his name, so you assume that historians are correct; his name is Ahkmenrah.

“I,” you point to yourself, “am (Y/N).”

Once again he tries to repeat you, and it sounds like a bastardization of your name, which you quickly correct. Second time around he gets it, and the two of you smile. As he looks around the room, marveling at the number of books and the architecture, you sit staring at him, wondering how it’s possible. The golden tablet catches his eye and he stands, his hand still bandaged drags across your arm as he walks in a trance towards it. You follow close behind, gauging his reaction.

His fingers drag across the glass, leaving no imprint in their wrapped state. Again he says something to you, a breath barely coming out of him as the words are whispered.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” You murmur, glancing at the tablet still half glowing, then back to him.

“Ahasu bey,” he whispers, going over every hieroglyph carved into its surface. It doesn’t sound quite right, but you studied Arabic for a time, which as close to the Egyptian language as it gets - it sounds like an odd version of ‘mine.’ So you repeat the word, in the version of the language that you know.

“Alkhasu bi?”

He turns to you, clearly surprised. For a moment he goes quiet, contemplating his words, a frown apparent on his face. He says something, something even you can’t understand, unlike Arabic or English.

“I can’t understand,” you say, feeling more lost than ever.

He sighs, forlorn as his fingers once more trace over the glass. Throat tight you attempt to swallow, reaching for his hands - someone has to untie them, and the only person is you. At first he jumps, startled by your touch, but he soon realizes what you’re trying to do. Slowly, you unravel the ages old cloth, careful not to tear anything.

The first thing you notice is how soft his hands are, unmarred from the labor his subjects faced. Your own fingers trace along the lines of his palm, reaching the tips of his fingers, holding them and curling them into his palm. You do the same with his other hand, and he pats your hand thankfully. Nervously he looks into your eyes and says something, something you can’t understand, but you take it to be a thank you, and you smile in return.

To pass the time locked away in the library, the both of you barred from leaving (though, he’d be a suspicion, wrapped up in all that cloth), you go over textbooks filled with different items. You point at an image of the night sky, and you say ‘night,’ while he says what you assume is night in his own language. Several things happen that night - you realize a lot of titles of things in Egypt aren’t the actual titles, they’re just the general name for something. The Great Nile is really called the Aur; Nile means river in their language. Even though you know you’d never be able to share the information without being accused of either witchcraft or stupidity, you revel in his guidance, and quietly adore the sound of his voice.

When the first light of dawn strikes a shadow down the book the two of you are examining he inhales sharply, turns without a word, and stands in front of his sarcophagus. Confused you turn to him, watching as he wraps his hands once more.

He says something, something you know is important information, but you still can’t do anything about it. Something relating to night, and life, and as you help him back into his wrappings entirely confused as to why, it hits you. Struggling to put the mask back on you assist, muttering to yourself, “you only live at night, how convenient,” while wondering when anything had been less convenient. You hold his hand as long as you can, till the first rays of sunlight settle into the library, and before you can see his form you close the coffin, seal it shut, and lock him away in the glass case.

Every evening you come back, even though you really can’t afford to spend time talking to him. For the most part he understands, you point at your books and your studies and try to communicate that it’s important. As you stay under the green table lamp, pen in hand and a dozen sheets of questions out in front of you, he sits beside you, and tries to decipher your language. Sometimes he asks questions, and it’s not long at all till he begins to understand basic phrases, items, and gestures. Over Christmas Break, you only have one essay to write (granted, it is supposed to be 4,000 words long), thus allowing for a bit more time to spend with the young King.

“You call Kemet, Egypt?” He asks one day, looking at the map spread out on your unofficial desk. A typewriter sits to the side, half your essay written, lit by the glow of the fire.

“Yes. It’s here,” you say, and as always, you attempt to use simple phrasing, even if he’s learning English at an alarming rate. Pointing at the upper are in which Egypt rests his eyes follow, and he frowns.

“It’s… small,” he murmurs, his own fingers tracing the path of the Nile, barely visible on your map.

“No, not really. The world is big,” you say with a soft giggle, watching him as his eyes dart around the map - there’s more land than he can fathom.

“Lots of world,” he says with a nod, straightening his back from the bent down position. With a smile you nod, and he takes a seat. From the desk beside your own you pull another chair, and sit close to him.

“We are here,” you tell him, pointing to the little island of Great Britain.

“Also small,” he notes with a giggle.

“Yes… but powerful. Like Kemet.”

In understanding he nods, almost enthusiastically; there’s little you know about him statistics wise, such as birthdays or number of wives or children, but you know he’s curious, a fast learner, and almost… excitable. It seems, all around, an odd word to refer to an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh as, but it suits him well - when he learns he smiles a brilliant smile, and his eyes light up, crinkling at the edges in delight. His lips pout in a soft confusion when he’s still learning a topic, and they part just slightly, dimples appearing when he frowns. There’s a lot you know about him - nothing informational, but you know him, and he knows you just as well.

You’re just as joyful as he is when he learns something. The linguistics of a dead language is hard for you to understand, which is fair enough he thinks, but you get it anyway, every now and then. However, you do have an advantage, which is knowing a language similar to his own; he doesn’t have anything like that in his arsenal of learning. Still he manages to bond with you, over the knowledge of the stars, the shared mystery of the universe, and the marvel of life on Earth.

“Do… your work, is it done?” He asks, gesturing to the typewriter in the desk corner. No, it’s not - you’ve got a ways to go.

“Yes,” is what you tell him instead. Time with him is such a precious thing, so precious you’d begun debating on getting a job at Cambridge University once you graduated. At your lie he smiles, soft and barely there, and takes your hand, leading you to the fireplace.

The two red velvet chairs that sit in front of the fire have been getting slowly closer to one another during your visits, to the point where he can now hold your hand, notice each pattern in your fingertips while you both sit in separate seats. He does this exact thing - the fire heats your cheeks as he stares at your knuckles, his thumb brushing over them as he notes the smoothness of your skin. Your heart races painfully when you stare at where your hands meet, so instead you watch his face, and admire the cold glow of his eyes in the firelight.

For a while he continues doing this, examining every bit of your hand, and for some reason you let him. Even if it’s not a newfangled invention that he’s doting over it’s a sign of affection, which is only further proved when he breaks the silence to speak.

“Mrr i Twn,” he says, the words as odd on his tongue as any other - you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to hearing a language so starkly different from your own. Despite how strange it sounds, you actually know what he’s saying, though by the expression on his face, he doesn’t think you do. Your mouth falls open, your heart thundering in your chest, and a deep need sparks within you to touch him.

“Say that again,” you breathe out, unable to break the eye contact he’s made. Hesitantly he does so, saying the words quieter and faster. Gingerly you trace your fingers across his palm, till they’re wrapped around his wrist - he holds your wrist just as firm and gentle.

“You… know, don’t you,” he mumbles, his face darkening in a strong blush.

“I know,” you say, a smile cracking across your face, warmth fluttering in your chest. “In English it’s ‘I love you.’”

“I lub you,” he tries, and again you correct him, till it comes out clear as day - “I love you.”

He tries to speak, takes a breath to do so, but nothing comes out - he stares at your intertwined hands, the way you stroke over his veins, the love that warms your touch, before looking back up at you - and only then you notice the tears glistening in his eyes. You hold him tighter and lean in.

“Are you alright?”

“I am… bad,” he answers, and it’s clear his limited vocabulary is hindering him from expressing himself. So you lean in closer yet, till your noses nearly touch.

“I adore you,” you say, your tone a melodic dream that closes his eyes in a rapt sigh.

“I don’t know what that means,” he says.

“Sorry. I love you,” you clarified with a smile, one that he copies, leaning into you till your foreheads press together.

When the giggles recede he smiles, spellbound by your closeness as he leans in closer. It only feels natural to follow, revering his love as a deep fondness settles in your stomach, admiring till the last moment comes and your lips meet. You haven’t ever kissed anyone before - which has always been a source of shame for you - and it’s what you expected; a golden glow courses through you, and there’s a strong desire to deepen the kiss. What you don’t expect, and what you could’ve never expected, was how safe it all felt, and the warm comfort that tingles at your fingertips. You move on what feels right, using your free arm to tangle your hand into his hair, tugging gently on it as you press yourself closer to him. With a weak hum he pushes nearer to you, and somehow you end up in his lap.

How, exactly, you got here escapes you for a moment, and the oddity of it all doesn’t ever occur to you, even years later. In truth, the circumstances are very strange - you happened, by chance, to stay too late in a library, then a magic tablet brought a dead Egyptian King to life, and now you’re kissing him with more fervor than you’ve felt for anything or anybody. He goes as far as to slip his hands underneath your coat, shirking it off your back and pulling at your suspenders till they fall off your shoulders. Every stroke he makes on you, skin or cloth, electrifies you and you half expect him to be leaving a glowing path where his touch strays.

While he drags his hands anywhere you’ll let him touch, over your shoulders, down your chest to settle on your hips, you keep yours in place - one on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. Desperately he searches for your touch, longs for you to make a move but your techniques of love and worship are far different. He moves consistently, constantly, moving deeper into your kiss, tugging at your hair and pulling at the buttons at your shirt - you stay in place, too enraptured in each and every touch that his method nearly sends you into overload. Yet, even as your shirt is thrown to the ground, you can’t find yourself able to part from him. Sensory overload or no, there’s nothing more heavenly than his touch, and there’s no greater show of reverence and exaltation in any life, in any time than there is that night.

You stay with him as long as you can, as long as you dare. Love is a newfangled wonder, not one you easily let go of, and you thank God and His angels that Ahkmenrah loves you dearer than anything - just as you love him.

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah #rami malek #night at the museum #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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shcnley · 4 years

Text

╰ ✧ ZOEY DEUTCH. MUSE SEVEN. BISEXUAL. ❞ say hello to the s club’s very own SHANLEY EVANS! a TWENTY-THREE year old CISFEMALE that goes by SHE/HER pronouns. i heard they were voted MOST TALKATIVE in high school, which says a lot about them because they’re very VIVACIOUS and DEPENDABLE, but watch out for their IMPULSIVE and STUBBORN side as well. i hope they’re ready to take a break from being a TEACHER and finally get this summer started!

hiiii friendssss, i’m gigi!!! and here’s my lil french fry lovin’ bb, shanley. sooo excited to plot w/ you allllll <333

B A S I C S

full name: shanley nicole evans gender: cisfemale pronouns: she/her sexuality: bisexual age: 23 years old birthday: january 27th 1997 birthplace: NYC currently living: chicago, il relationship status: single zodiac: aquarius sun, virgo moon, leo rising occupation: teacher ( 1st grade )

I N S P O

characters: jessica day ( new girl ), lorelai gilmore ( gilmore girls ), harper ( set it up ), summer roberts ( the o.c. ), alexis rose ( schitt’s creek ), & amy march ( little women ). music: click this sentence for playlist !! pinterest: click this sentence for pinterest !!

B A C K G R O U N D

kso, i’m going to be honest. shanley had an extremely normal and happy childhood. her parents met in high school, fell in love and were married after graduating college. her father ( theodore evans / think sandy cohen from the oc ) is an executive vice president of an insurance company while her mother ( clara evans / think kristina braverman from parenthood ) is a stay-at-home mom. born and raised in new york city. she has an older sister ( haddie evans / think prue halliwell from charmed ) who is three years older, she has an extremely close relationship with her. shanley is obsessed with family, tbh. she tells them just about everything. they had dinner together every night and talk about their days, have inside jokes, go on family vacations every summer ( before sclub summers ). overall, her parents are very loving and supportive, wanting only the best for their daughters. in high school, shanley was convinced she wasn’t like other girls *pUkeS*. she was very outgoing. like she literally made friends with anyone and everyone. a friendly face; probably the student who showed the new students around. it was rare to see shanley upset or rude to anyone unless she was defending someone. she had good grades (our shanny was v advanced), kind of a teacher’s pet but like still got her seat moved or sent to the hallway because she wouldn’t stop talking. i almost made her superlative most likely to say something stupid because like that’s her too. she was on the yearbook committee, played volleyball, and was a part of the student government. if she wasn’t at school or home, you would most likely find her with arlo, which whew. a story there. when it came to the sclub, she spent whatever free time she had left with them. encouraging all the trouble; shanley will do ANYTHING you tell her to and probably doesn’t think about it. don’t give her dumbass a dare because she will do it. sorry , i forgot what i was going to say; let’s change topics. NO i remembered, lets carry on. she’s always up for a good time. don’t hesitate to invite shan...even if you don invite her...she’ll invite herself SO. fast forward to college, shanley was accepted to loyola university and moved to chicago. how excite!!!! kso she always knew she wanted to go away for school yanno be miss independent thats why they love her BUT college life wasn’t easy, not in the beginning at least. she was going through a breakup and lost herself for a while. became cold and detached; honestly after the break up her routine was to go to class then back to her dorm, study, cry and repeat. she was only friends with her roommates till finally they forced her to go out and deal with her heartbreak the “””normal””” college way aka getting stupid drunk. *tiktok vc* it izz what it izz. joined a sorority then dropped it because it was too culty for her. she got a part time job at insomnia cookies. slowly became high school shanley again. her spirits were especially lifted when she began student teaching. the kids made her so happy. they also proved to her that teaching was what she was meant to do. next thing ya know, four years are up and our girl has a degree in elementary education. no one probably asked but her love life !!! like mentioned earlier shanley is single. she was convinced she was going to end up marrying arlo, maybe not right after high school like people assumed but eventually. they just connected on another level so when he ended things after their first year of college, shan was crushed. but if you’re curious, she's still got the hots for arlo. are we surprised tho? no? exactly. thanks for reading, pals. dsjkn okay i’ll add more. fine. so she hooks up with people and goes on dates but no one sticks. she doesn’t want them to stick either. she knows she had that like one great love and doubts she’ll ever feel it again so she just prefers to be on her own. she don’t need no man !!!!!!!! except for one...but mind ur business. so like what is shanley nicole evans up to now? well, her original plan was to move back home once she had graduated. but she was offered a teaching position in chicago and gladly accepted it. she figured since she loved living in chicago so much and it was at the school where she completed her student teaching; it all felt right for her to stay there. this was a fresh start for her. and she got it!! ya girl moved into a beautiful ( expensive ) apt near lake shore drive, started her own tiktok account where she randomly went viral and fell in love with all her students who she calls her kiddy beans!!

E X T R A !!

has 4 tattoos: portrait of her dog, on her left calf // why? again obsessed w/ her dog aquarius symbol, on her right outer elbow side // zodiac hoe. Is v proud coffee mug, on her right wrist side // her first tattoo. couldnt think of anything else. honey bee, back of her arm above elbow // got really drunk, heard a song, thought of arlo, ended up at a shop with friends as a joke and woke up the next morning with it. 8 piercings: 3 each lobe. Industrial ( left ). tragus ( right ). sings when she talks sometimes most of the time speaks in really bad accents; new jersey being her fav is always in a dress...look at her pinterest...all she has is dresses. she likes to show off her legs ok. obsessed with animals ( if she’s not paying attention, its bc she’s thinking about her dog and/or bunnies ), coffee, and junk food. a jonas brothers stan, nick is her favorite brother. shelf is her favorite song. cries whenever she hears when you look me in the eyes ( she sang it to arlo when he took her to their concert ). has a big following on tiktok. on the teacher side. she posts her ootd and weird shit her students have said. sometimes even reenacts scenes from new girl. a reality tv show about birds she sees. its quite entertaining. potatoes and pasta are her favorite foods. grew up making fairy gardens has a concentration face dances for no and every reason.especially if she’s excited or beat someone in something. rambles way too much, forgets what she’s talking about mid sentence, attention span of a fruit fly. she has a hammock named bartholomew and she chills on it when she’s sad...so most of this trip. :-)))

welcome 2 the end; gimme all ur plots. i wanna plot with you all. i am down for everything and anything.

#schq:intro #<33333 #theres more i want 2 add but i wanna get this out already fjdsjk #i added more tingz jkfs

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flightsrsk · 4 years

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hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.

#tw:drugs #tw:smoking #tw:flashing lights #covintro #// PLS HMU WITH PLOTS OK FDJKLSJSD I HATE I AM MISSING OPENING BUT I WANT ALL THE PLOTS

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c-is-for-circinate · 5 years

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It occurs to me that I promised y’all I’d tell you stories from the D&D campaign I’m running, and it’s now been a week since the first session, so I should definitely do some of that! I can already tell it’s going to be a fun-as-shit campaign. If nothing else, my party and I are collectively five variably-queer ladies who met at knitting group and range in age from “haven’t played D&D since 2e at GenCon in the 90′s” to “too young to remember fandom before AO3 existed”. We’re real fucking cool. I am going to have to explain, in detail, so many textiles and other interesting crafts.

I am a WORDY-ASS MOTHERFUCKER, so the whole tale will probably get pretty long in the telling, but: welcome to the continent of Nokomoris, on a world that probably has its own name but I haven’t decided on it yet because naming things is hard, dude.

[here’s where I will probably link game session posts in the future once they exist]

Hark, a backstory! (And, our four players)

IF YOU RECOGNIZE THIS CAMPAIGN INFO BECAUSE YOU ARE PLAYING IT, CONSIDER YOURSELF UNDER DM ORDERS TO BACK OFF AND STOP READING. I KNOW YOU FUCKERS ARE ON TUMBLR TOO, THERE IS A REASON I DIDN’T GIVE YOU MY HANDLE. (I love you all very much and yes, there are spoilers in here. Go away and text me now.)

Eastern Nokomoris, where our story takes place (or at least begins) is in a prosperous age of thriving city-states and collapsed kingdoms. Most trade, culture, and even centralized government is based among the Nine Cities, massive metropolises located around the Attiks Sea and nearby lands. Nearly a million people live in the nine cities, which are connected to each other via well-established sea and land trade routes, and also by what many are calling the most important technological/magical development of the modern age: a network of massive permanent teleportation circles, thirty feet in diameter.

The circle network is big enough to carry large trade wagons, livestock, huge parties of people, and even troops and war machines. Sea and land trade has dropped by half between the Nine Cities in the past fifteen years, and continues to decline. The cities themselves are thriving and prosperous, and it’s easier than ever to get beef and leather from Karna Vi, wool from Yefira, pottery from Celkan or metalwork from Tiers no matter where you live.

Outside of the cities, it’s another story. Dozens of once-prosperous kingdoms, and even the whole of the Trava Empire, have fallen in the past seventy years: first during the Church Wars, and then in the yeas of chaos and rebuilding once the Wars were over. Small towns everywhere that once paid taxes to a crown, and were protected in turn by royal troops and much-needed aid in times of hardship, have been left entirely to stand or fall on their own. Some have thrived, becoming local centers of trade for whole coalitions of abandoned towns nearby. Others have disappeared, died out, or simply faded into the wilderness, forgotten. The great open plains of Highnorth where the Trava Empire once ruled, the endless golden sea of the Southgrass, the peaks and valleys of the Thavine Mountains, the deep many-colored forest of the Iris Peninsula--who knows what’s out there any more?

And in the Midlands, where the worst of the Church Wars took place...well, precious few towns even survived to rebuild in the first place. Land that once held the most fertile farms in all Nokomoris is desolate now, scarred and cursed. Most of the battlefield has been picked over by intrepid adventurers and out-of-work soldiers in the six decades since the Wars ended, already raided for magic and treasure. The ruins remain, and the valleys where nothing will ever grow again, and the eternal shadow over the once-Holy City, and who knows what sorts of twisted things living in places people no longer go?

But it’s been sixty years since the Church Wars ended, and for most people, life is good. Small-town farmers may no longer have the protection of any crown, but small technological advancements in plow design and crop rotation mean that they can produce more food than they need and sell the extra in the nearest city for coin. More and more young people, freed from heavy labor on their parents’ farms, have learned reading, writing, history, and some amount of arcane talent. The Grand Universities in the nine cities are thriving, full of scholars of all ages eager to learn and advance the course of knowledge everywhere.

Of course, there are ten times more scholars in the Grand Universities than there are professorships or other high-ranking positions to hire them to...and that is where our story begins.

Our intrepid party thus far includes:

Marion, a human paladin of indeterminate gender, whose human family stands among the nobles of the great city of Karna Vi, where our story begins. Marion is an acolyte of the Church of Lost Things, which concerns itself with every god that does not easily fit within the purview of the other seven Churches, and also with every god that has been erased or forgotten by time (for all gods deserve worship, and all gods are capable of smiting those that neglect them, sooner or later). They’re also a math major, largely because computer science hasn’t been invented yet.

Marion’s really hoping to be able to build and program a simple computing machine, a la Babbage’s Difference Engine (or Arthur C. Clarke’s The Nine Billion Names of God), to tabulate and generate all the possible names of every god ever to exist, which seems much more efficient than just combing piecemeal broken historical records trying to find them. It has not been going well. In a Church system where paladins are often more concerned with protecting people from the gods than for the gods, cracking this problem will let Marion figure out who the gods even are like nobody ever before. But there are variables missing, and theomathematical constants they can’t even identify yet, let alone calculate--and they’re not going to find here.

Three interesting facts about Marion, as per their player:

They once spent an entire week holed up in a lab over a holiday break and were declared missing-presumed-dead. Police searches were involved. It was a little bit of a scandal.

They are by far the most unremarkable and constantly forgotten member of their entire family. (This perhaps says more about their family than about them.)

Everyone on campus is fairly sure they interfered with the campus clock tower specifically to give students more time on finals last semester. This is false. They were trying to run a different experiment entirely, messed with the clock tower by accident, and didn’t actually notice it was finals week even after it was over.

Kevin, an elf barbarian sportsball champion, hero of the university’s sportsball team for the past ten years straight. Kevin is a foot and a half taller than any self-respecting elf ought to be, not to mention twice as broad. He’s finally starting to acknowledge the fact that there is, in fact, no NFElf, and you can’t be a “professional sportsballer” within the Elven Ascendancy, and his bemused parents would really like him to do something with his life beyond playing those little games with the ball and all of those...non-elf people.

Kevin is also an art history student, mostly out of desire for an easy major that’ll make his parents happy while he happily spends most of his time out on the sportsball field. He’s got high strength, basic middle intelligence, and negative wisdom. He’s sat through more history classes than the entire rest of the party put together. He understands approximately none of it. Still--he can’t do sports forever, and art history makes his parents happy, and he might as well go on a quest to uncover lost art and artifacts and maybe prove he’s an actual adult sooner than later, right?

Three interesting facts about Kevin, as per his player:

Back in his home city playing little league sportsball, there were definite (and accurate) rumors about this wild elf that could and would straight-up squish opposing players. That’s how the college recruiters found him in the first place. It’s definitely why they wanted him.

He has so many groupies. So many. They come in so many different species and genders and Kevin is on board with every single one. (On board? On bed? On convenient flat surface? Does it particularly matter? Not to Kevin!)

Kevin is covered in tattoos, and there are all sorts of rumors about what sort of eldritch magic they hold--like, that panther is probably a real panther bound by elven magic, right? A pretty persistent rumor suggests that the tattoos all commemorate individual opposing team members he’s...either hospitalized or fucked, or both, literally nobody is sure. (In point of fact, none of the above are true, and Kevin just has terrible taste in tattoos and a pretty stunning lack of both impulse control and supervision--but why quash the stories?)

Kou, a halfling bard whose girlfriend just left three weeks ago on a research expedition of her own, taking with her approximately 85% of Kou’s impulse control. In theory, Kou is an alchemy major, studying science to make her scholar parents happy. In practice, she probably spends more time sneaking into music seminars and/or busking on the street for spare change than actually doing alchemy, but her girlfriend was a Good Responsible Influence who made sure Kou didn’t get kicked out of the department, and to be fair, alchemy can blow things up sometimes so that’s always good.

Kou doesn’t so much have plans for the future as vague, contradictory aspirations, but that doesn’t mean she’s not smart. She’s learned enough magic to use a set of recording stones to play, loop, and modulate beats or bits of music, thereby making her Nokomoris’s very first DJ, and she really wants to be a professional musician someday. She just hasn’t figured out how to reconcile her dreams with her parents’ wishes, the lives they’ve worked so hard to create, or a halfling cultural legacy that has more to do with riding around snowfields covered in furs waving spears than it does with brightly-colored house parties.

Three interesting facts about Kou, as per her player:

Kou very definitely once spent a full day dressed up in halfling traditional garb, furs and all, including a very fuzzy fur hat. It wasn’t until that evening that somebody saw the hat move and everyone realized she’d been wearing a curled-up live fox the whole time.

She once managed to create an incredibly destructive compound in alchemy lab out of ingredients that should not have actually been able to react that way. She found out it was corrosive when she accidentally spilled it on six months’ worth of a different professor’s lab notes. (She got an A anyway, because her lab professor hated the other guy, but that has more to do with Professors Ayanova and M’tiersi than Kou, really.)

She absolutely goes down to counter-protest every damn time those Family First assholes try to rally downtown in favor of child-producing (read: heterosexual, single-species) families. Rumor says she once broke her guitar over a protester’s head, which horrifies her--Kou’s guitar is the most expensive thing she owns! She used their own protest sign, like a sensible person.

Reigenleif, a mostly-female-probably gnome rogue known around campus as “Beer Run” for her skills at somehow always having access to better and cheaper beer than anyone else, and her general willingness to deliver to parties (for a small additional fee). Reigenleif’s parents are small-time forgers who ended up mostly working for a local crime organization after a series of bad luck and political upheavals brought them to Karna Vi a few decades ago. They really want their kids to go clean, avoid all the uncertainties and occasional jail sentences/executions that accompany a life of crime, and maybe make a little something of themselves. Reigenleif, who has zero interest in staying on the right side of the law, mostly does odd jobs for a different, not-technically-rival criminal organization, and carefully does not tell her parents about it, ever.

Technically she’s an engineering major, and she’s more than got the brains for it, plus the accompanying curiosity about metallurgy and arcane artificing. Still, she spends most of her time helpfully involving herself in other peoples’ projects rather than running her own. (Her own projects have a lot more to do with figuring out new forging techniques and criminal tricks, and don’t look very good in the end-of-year department report.) Enjoys causing trouble, not being in it.

Three interesting facts about Reigenleif, as per her player:

She absolutely owns a copy of the provost’s signet ring, which she can and has used to create documents allowing herself access to all sorts of University resources. Like most things, she’ll share the use of it, quietly, for a price. (She also owns a copy of Marion’s family signet ring, which is a much longer story that I as the DM do not know yet--can’t wait for that.)

Once captured and maneuvered a live swan into somebody’s office to cause as much chaos as possible so Reigenleif could get up to something somewhere else. Is a little bit of a legend for it.

Aside from her not-actually-that-impressive family legacy of crime, Reigenleif’s spread a quiet rumor around school that she’s descended from the famous marauding pirate, Thrand Slender-Leg. It’s possible that Thrand Slender-Leg never actually existed. It’s possible that nobody had ever heard of him before Reigenleif made him up. She’s certainly not telling.

#C the DM #dungeons and dragons #The Yarn Crew goes adventuring

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honeychilialligator · 4 years

Text

The Comfort of Strangers

Gabe's POV

The first time I saw her, it was a Saturday - most likely in the middle of September, nine months ago in a public library, four blocks away from the building that I once inhabited.

Of all things to note, the initial thing that would flash was the day - always the same day. She probably wore an average sweater, and dark skinny jeans - a style I eventually noticed. And even without the glasses, I always remembered her even back then as nerdy, introverted and of course, bookish.

It was a school research that motivated me to visit such a weary place that I couldn't imagine ever stopping-over - not because I was allergic to studying (if anything, I don't mind reading books) but because the place in itself was a bore to look at. The library was Egypt's pyramid. Historical. Old. Ancient. Pick your term. There's a helpful thesaurus inside to help you in such a predicament.

Then again, the same reason has urged me to step inside the old-fashioned site. Mr. Lanburton (not sure if I spelled his name accurately), our history teacher, had loaded us a big stack of dreadful tasks to fulfill at the end of the weekend. Surprisingly so, my memory has reclaimed the thoughts of my heavy homework, to which my class was asked to recollect important historical terms of a long list of nearby places in the vicinity of our humble locale.

It was also the first time my best friend, Google, has disappointed me terribly for failing to deliver an automatic answer to my difficulties (Apparently it was not one of those "God bless the internet" days). Unfortunately our locality and its small populace were a little unfit for specific and in-depth information about what Mr. Lanburton had required.

As tempting as it was to abandon the task at hand, my grades in that semester was not as cooperative. It took me a week to recover on an illness that got me hospitalized for days and the teachers were not very considerate. The only option left for me was to take the route to the oldest public library in town and start a customary way of active research.

The heavy creak brought from the antique wooden door entrance unsurprisingly attracted too much attention in an almost-deserted library. I met her stare as she lifted her gaze - our first contact. Yet at that moment it seemed so ordinary - so unappreciated. I couldn't recall clearly what book she was reading or how she looked at me, no matter how hard I try, but I guess that's just how I will always remember her: the girl who always has her face trained on books in the old library.

At the end of the day I was happy for having the task lifted off of my shoulders three days before the original submission, and I also recalled that my parents treated me and my four-year old little sister in an expensive restaurant outside town. My mother bought me a black jacket that I remembered wearing the next day. That specific Saturday was special in ways that I could only fully realize now.

Visits to the library were followed by more when our history teacher realized how effective it was (for him) to leave advanced schoolwork for a progressive study on our next topics. More items were given that I had to reserve extra time to the library to fulfill the task every week. The second and third time I stayed in the public library, I sat three chairs away from her and maintained the same position for the week because it was nearest to the air conditioner and I was rather comfortable. The quiet girl maintained hers just the same. Each time we were near each other I was more intrigued about the novels she was reading and how she seemed to be unfazed to her dusty surroundings with a different book each time I came. By my fifth visit, I was able to comprehend a clearer assessment on her features when I snuck in a slight glance.

Evergreen - like spring. That's how I remembered her full bright eyes. It seemed enchanting now the more I think about it, as only a few people could possess such unique detail. Her cheeks are always flushed - it must have something to do with the cold atmosphere (but later, I realized she was always like that). Her slightly-curly hazel brown hair, she always secured in a careless bun. It was curiosity that compelled me to her - a teenage girl my age who would just spend most of her time reading classic novels in the stinky dinosaur-age public library instead of going shopping or doing whatever sassy teenage girls do. Does she even go to school? Is she constantly alone if she doesn't have anyone to hang-out with? Where does she live anyway? What's in these books -these novels that got her hooked in this place? Why can't she just borrow them and bring them home to read? Why here where everything is so grubby and old, I have to stop myself from sneezing when I get too close on a dictionary?

It started as a thought, which intrigued me, and then it changed into a deep curiosity that later became a sudden interest. She was not from my university, that's for sure. I would have known. I never bothered to ask because I was uncertain on her response. It was not my forte, conversing with the opposite gender. Back then I had a mental overview on how my conversation with her would be like. I just couldn't gather enough courage to start even a casual conversation.

Scanning through old textbooks, I'd sneak in a little look at her - I don't know why I did - I always felt like even through her solemn focus on the material she was reading, I've always imagined her noticing every slight glance I pass on to her. Having her around three chairs away from me every Saturday afternoon in the library eventually turned into something natural - like a schoolmate a table away from me in our usual place in the cafeteria. Without even speaking, I guess our positions were a mutual contract. Without even knowing it, my visits and these weekly tasks no longer bothered me as much as it did at first.

Finally, I devised a plan to get her attention (it didn't sound as creepy when I thought about it before). This peculiar bookworm returns the books to its shelf and leaves the place fifteen minutes less before I could finish my research homework. On a particular Saturday in October, I took notice of the exact bookshelf location she left her novel before she stepped out of the library. Coincidentally Mr. Lanburton was kind enough to lessen our burden with simple common terms to hunt and I was able to finish the task earlier than most. I took the book out of the bookshelf five minutes after she left. I tried considering asking the elderly librarian about the name of the girl (surely she knew about her only customer in ghost town's library) but for some reason I didn't pursue it.

The moment I glanced at the cover of the book I remembered thinking: "Nicholas Sparks. Well what do you know? I guess she is a romantic at heart."

"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks.

Reading the synopsis was my last pull to borrowing the book and bringing it home. Alas, I have also read some of his passionate collections but it was my first to encounter this specific book. I started reading that night - continued and finished it the next day. It was compelling and I was hooked. I thought about how she could be feeling the same emotions that I was sensing as I read through Spark's masterpiece, and when I am overcome with extreme emotions in the climax of the plot, I remembered how I caught her wrinkle her nose as she read through all those literary pieces as if she was dismayed by the outcome, or how a trace of a smile would form on her delicate lips for a moment at the remaining pages of her novels; all the emotions rushing out of her when she reads - I realize how she understood all kinds of sentiments organized by the author or how she paints the characters out of her beautiful imagination.

For a regular guy who sees life as a featureless routine, she was remarkable.

The next Saturday, there were no tasks to accomplish, but I returned the book to the library. When I arrived, the girl was already sitting with a different (probably about another romance) book on our usual table as I had expected. I felt her eyes follow me when I returned the book that she read. After doing so, I returned to my usual chair, took a random book on her usual bookshelf and pretended to read it - hoping she would notice me again.

The bookworm cleared her throat. Twice (in the first, I was a little too overwhelmed to hear her). "Excuse me."

"Yes?" I must have smiled like a fool back then.

"Hi," she started nervously. "I just couldn't help wondering: what genre do you usually prefer? I mean if you don't mind." Wait, British accent?

The question initially confused me, but it made me more than glad to hear her talk. I answered her in way that might have ineffectually and failingly conceal my tense and awkward self. "I-I guess I'm more into Action, Sci-Fi. Those kinds of stuff." (Not really). "And probably a little romance would do." (A guy reading a romance novel? Can't you get any weirder? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid).

"I see," she spoke out the words slowly. "Action, huh? Specifically of Sylvia Day's?"

Her tone had demanded to alert me, as I saw her look curiously on the book on my hand. I quickly turned to the cover.

"Bared to You" by Sylvia Day.

Oh.

I slammed the book shut, not daring to behold a scene of its twisted plot. Funny, how I must have looked like to her: A perverted little maniac.

That's when I heard her laugh. I was unprepared for my reaction to the most potent weapon this girl had in her arsenal - a real genuine laugh that reverberated from inside her. It was too infectious for me to resist, and on an unguarded instant, I joined in.

Of course, the librarian shushed us out of it.

"I'm sorry," she blushed - adding more color to her flushed face, and apologized to the wrinkly old librarian.

"Look, I wasn't really reading it, I mean - "(What am I getting myself into?) "I was just scan- " The girl stifled a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...just..."(Seriously dude, stop embarrassing yourself!)

"I'm Eveline," she offered, a bright and foreign (but genuine) smile on her face and an extended hand. "You are?"

A for being attentive. I just couldn't stop embarrassing myself, could I?

"Gabriel, 'Gabe' for short" I shook her soft, dainty hand. "Nice to (finally) meet you."

"Sorry if I disturbed you." Another short laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't really reading it," I shrugged.

"I can tell," Eveline smiled - a sparkle on her emerald eyes. "I mean I noticed you were so out of it. I didn't mean to appear so despicable."

"It's okay, really. I don't usually read novels - especially this kind."

"You're usually on research and textbooks," she added gently, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of her noticing me.

"Schoolwork," I supplied. "My history teacher keeps giving us a big load of homework every weekend."

"Ah, I see," she nodded in understanding. I waited for her to elaborate about her high school life or at least relate to me how her history teacher could be the same terror professor, but she didn't and our conversation fell short.

"Are you always hanging around here?" I probed further.

"Only on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays," Eve caught a stray hair and pushed it on her ear.

"Always on the same schedule?"

She nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

Her enigmatic stance put me in place and I decided not to push my luck on her privacy. "Cool."

I looked at my wristwatch and realized that I was late for my sister's little rehearsal, knowing I had to pick her up after. "It was really great to see you, but I'm done with my work here and I need to fetch my sister out of ballet class." As much as I still want to hang around...

"I understand."

"So, next Saturday then?" I said a little too hopefully.

"Of course," she smiled her gentle smile.

That night I lay on my cozy bed thinking about our hilarious - though a little ungainly, dialogue. Eveline. Witty, cute, and bashful Eveline. Even when I decided to shut my eyes, I could see a picture of her perky face in her natural glow and hear the sound of her symphonic laugh. Since that day, thoughts of her became a frequent visitor and Saturday wasn't just any ordinary Saturday. Like a refreshing holiday, I was looking forward to it.

On our next meeting, I wore a navy sweatshirt and khaki shorts - turning my charm on like a light switch untouched for decades. I smiled brightly even before I could enter the library, wanting to match hers and hoping she'd return it. Eveline would be inside, reading a romantic novel, and I hope my smile would greet her. She was still selecting a book when I came in; her face lit up as she mouthed "Hello."

Instead of going my way to proceed on my research, I watched her pick a book or two in the shelf before taking my own set of textbooks to copy information. As I derived coherent notes on my notebook, I clucked my tongue twice in a playful way of getting her attention. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance to my direction but I pretended to be so focused on my homework. I repeated it again, louder this time to also get the old librarian's awareness. The withered old woman looked around and turned on our table, confused at my mock innocence. She shrugged a little and went back on arranging the filthy pile of old archives. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eveline smile in amusement even without her looking at me.

I purposely sped up taking down notes for research in order to catch up on Eveline on her way home. I asked permission to accompany her and I was happy that she was fine with it. She owned an average bike for transportation and her street was 2 miles away from mine. I offered to guide her bike as a friendly gesture while we talk a little until we reached my apartment building.

"You're not as behaved as I thought you are," she teased lightly.

"You mean what I did to that librarian? Well at least she has someone to watch over. A little hobby might get her rusty old brain working a little," I winked and she laughed.

We shared jokes even though they were mostly mine. I enjoyed making her laugh and smile. I began talking about myself when we started sobering up; about my family, high school, my hunky best friend named Kevin, and my favorite sport, tennis. I casually asked her about her own share of the bargain and I was more than pleased to hear her describe a little more about herself. Financial problems had caused a temporary break for her education when her father was dropped out on his business firm. She didn't talk about her plans for the future which seemed odd when I think about how much I disclosed my desired career as an architect, but I still marveled at the way she talks about her present and how she sees her life like a ready canvass. She loved her parents dearly even if they couldn't give her siblings to take care of. Eveline had a little pet dog named Sponge, and he was her only best friend.

Little facts added to my little biography of her, and each Saturday I was determined to get closer to her as I know she was a keeper for a friend. It turned into a fantastic innocent habit. When Saturday comes, I'd still stay on my usual distance and she'd read books peacefully. I'd cluck my tongue like a little check-up call and she'd smile. We'd pretend we didn't hear anything when the librarian gets irritated, and we'd squeeze ourselves to hide a laugh. But still I was afraid of annoying her on her reading with my behavior so I'd stop and sneak glances at her instead. Overtime she started whistling, a sign that she wasn't bothered about my tongue-clucking at all. The first time she tried her 'notorious' act and the librarian glared at me accusingly, I bit my tongue so bad to conceal a hideous laughter and my stomach was aching, it was so hard to breath. On our journey home, I was able to make her play "20 questions" where we take turns in interrogations about ourselves. Each new detail was a new color to add to cluster of feathers she blooms each day.

By the time we agreed to meet up on days besides Saturday, I had nicknamed her "Eve" even when her mother calls her "Lynn". On our first "friendly" date, I took her to a little café and treated her with chocolate cake that she told me was her favorite. I bought her "Papertowns", a novel written by John Green, and she was so happy and giddy that Eve kissed me tenderly on the cheek; I wasn't able to hold a blush.

Even though I was afraid to admit it, when I was with her, it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.

She was amazing in ways that I couldn't describe. Eve could make simple seem complex. Everything about her had a deeper sense of sentimental value. There are certain ways only she can do that could make me immeasurably happy.

Eve had suggested I meet up with her on a night of meteor showers last December. It had been my dream rendezvous. As we sat there stargazing, I had took the book that we both loved from my sling bag, "The Choice" and read a little excerpt of Nicholas Sparks, one that I intended with meaning.

"It was inevitable for people to try to create a sense of normalcy in a place where nothing was normal. It helped one get through the day, to add predictability to a life that was inherently unpredictable."

She had listened with her eyes closed, lying on the evergreen grass that sent a neon glow to her emerald eyes.

"You've been quoting my books," Eve grinned, after a long moment of observing the distant, twinkling stars.

"Sadly, you've miraculously turned me into a bookworm like you," I sighed melodramatically.

"Well I never forced you to read them," she smiled.

"But there was no other way of getting your attention," I pouted, playfully.

"There was, you're just too dumb to try it," Eve laughed.

"Name one."

"I don't know, how about just a casual 'hi!'" she muttered sarcastically and I rolled my eyes. "You could also have tried asking me what I was reading. Did I appear that stiff to you?"

"To be honest, yeah" I said teasingly.

"Dud!"

"Nerd!"

Tickle fights are the usual aftermath of our casual bullying. How we managed to get that close so fast? I have no idea.

So yeah, we rolled off our butts in the prickly grass like it was no one's business. And after we finished laughing like hyenas and sobered up, we just lied there peacefully under the stars.

"Well I'm glad you did it," she suddenly brought up.

"Did what?"

"Read the book I mean," Eve chuckled.

"How come?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I guess there was no better way to get me to trust you." (She was serious, by the way.)

"Yeah, right" I smiled. "Starting a book club, eh?"

"You're my first member," she joked and we both laughed.

"You've put me in a lot of effort for just a simple conversation," I whispered.

"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy, remember that," she quoted a memorized sentence from the book that started it all.

It was her own happiness that did the trick: in her brilliant smile, in her adorable pout, or in the way she smudges ice cream all over her mouth, or how she falls asleep with her lips slightly apart, or how she seems so vulnerable and honest and kind that it would be a difficulty to stop the urge to wrap her in your arms and protect her. She was heavenly, but earthly in that amazingly complicated way.

Yes, indeed. I, Gabriel Felix, a plain average teenage boy who couldn't appear normal and comfortable with teenage girls, was falling in love with a bookworm. At that time when I came to terms with my little crush, I surrendered and didn't fight back. I didn't have anything to lose except for our strong bond and resilient friendship (that I couldn't imagine ever giving up). But knowing Eve, I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure out about what I really felt. Being in love, I comprehended, was not about being concerned if she could ever accept your feelings and affections. It's more engrossed on ensuring the happiness of your loved one above yours, even if that took you out of the equation.

Every time I have these insecurities in my mind when I think about confessing, I replay all the moments we spend together inside or outside the library. The way she smiled made me feel like it was mutual, and I know I had to try; Eve was worth it.

So I decided to express my intense emotions towards her on our next meeting next Saturday, in the place where it all began - our sanctuary.

That morning I put on my favorite black jacket, and styled my raven black hair with gel. In the bathroom while having my shower, there was nothing else in my mind but on what to say and how to express it without her running out the door. I was nervous even though I've made up my mind.

I read through my lines and my cheesy quotes (obviously it's from the same book), knowing she'd appreciate it. I slipped further into my own fantasies, understanding that there was a big chance of rejection, but all I cared about was being close to her, keeping her. I wanted so badly to keep her.

By then I knew, the moment I stepped inside the public library - as I saw her empty chair, that a love like this was too good to be true.

When I arrived at her address, I asked around for her and she wasn't home - none of her family was. None of her neighbors knew where they went. I went to random places - anywhere where hope could blossom. I tried the café, Borders (her favorite bookstore), the central park, but I was chasing fiction.

I never felt more drained in my entire life the moment I reached home. I attempted to call her number but only voice message replied.

Days passed, and Eveline still remained as a haunting mystery. I didn't break my visits to the library even though it was already summer vacation - hoping she'd show up with her dazzling smile on a sweater shirt and black jeans and explain how she disappeared and I'd forgive her, then she'd reassure me that she'd stay.

I've had my heart broken by love songs and I've had my own share of repetitive and agonizing travels to memory lane. Theories crossed my mind but it was worthless when there is no evidence to support them. Five times - I think - did I visit her house, only to find it empty once again.

"Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you've had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?"

Why, Nicholas, are you a psychic?

Months passed; each day was a struggle on moving on - on filling this void in my chest whenever I see her empty chair on lonely Saturdays.

My own copy of "The Choice" had been repeatedly thrown off the wall but I still had no perfect reason to hate her - even more in forgetting her. And in doing so, I've shunned myself in taking chances in romance. The harder I wanted to forget the more I kept remembering.

"But things change. People change. Change was one of the inevitable laws of nature, exacting its toll on people's lives. Mistakes are made, regrets form, and all that was left were repercussions that made something as simple as rising from the bed seem almost laborious."

I was able to memorize this stupid passage from that stupid book the day I had given up in waiting for Eve to come back. It seemed pitiful, but there were things you couldn't prevent from spilling. But then maybe I deserved this much for being too attached and for trusting too much on our "mutual" contract.

Unfortunately again for me, I didn't also deserve a "goodbye".

Time did its magic - no matter how slow. I've tried smiling again, and I went back on track with my priorities. On my next semester, I did better and passed every subject. I've tried playing sports like football and I was busier every day.

But still life has a way of proving you wrong. Three days ago, another research came up that needed public library help. The thought brought back unwanted memories that I've tried so hard to ignore but it can't be helped. At the same time, I dared myself to go through this like a test - to prove myself that I've really moved on.

So yesterday I took a step inside the ancient place, purposely in the same time that I practiced my past routine. The librarian regarded me with a look, as she bent down her spectacles to observe me. I tossed her a smile as if we were old acquaintances and I wasn't sure if she could still remember me in the way she returned my friendly greeting.

I took the same old World History textbook, and sat on my old place. Turning the pages, I was suddenly aware of the seat three chairs away from mine. I felt a familiar ache in my heart as I took down notes.

This was too much, I shouldn't have done this.

The price of going back through everything was not worth the pain. I closed the textbook wearily and decided to leave at once, when I heard it.

A whistle.

As if it was a sound of a bullet piercing through my ear, I turned around, perplexed and slightly hopeful.

The librarian was looking at me, her hand on her mouth and a smile on her pale and bony face.

"Made you turn," and she laughed (although it sounded more like a witch's cackle) "I knew that would do the trick." She motioned me towards her, and as the confused bloke as I was, I complied (It's not like she's harmful anyway).

"Your girlfriend," the librarian muttered. "She came here a week ago."

"She's not my girl - Say what?" I think my heart just did a somersault.

"Between you and me, who do you think is supposed to be deaf?" the old woman laughed, betraying her age. "She left something - inserted it on this book," she took "The Choice" (the book that I borrowed) out from the drawer. "You teenagers seriously need to remember that a library is not meant for -"

"Did she say anything?" I cut her off impatiently, taking the book from her wrinkled hand.

The now-annoyed librarian shook her head no.

I removed the little piece of paper from the pages of the book and read the note.

You probably didn't expect an apology from me after I left you alone without any explanation. You didn't deserve it and there is nothing I could say worthy of your forgiveness. You can crumple this paper or forget me - I'd accept all of it. But even after everything that I did to you, it would be such a shame to say that I did it all intentionally.

But here is my explanation: I was dying. My cancer was spreading and an operation could only result to a fast demise or a little chance of survival. From the start I meant to keep this from you - after all, who would have thought that a stranger like you would mean so much to me.

Everyday I wither in the pity of those around me, when all I really want is to do more than just breathe - I want to live. That's why I read lives that have happy endings, something I thought I was never granted to have. It was a torture I designed for myself. At that time all I really thought about was that since this cancer started controlling my life, all I am allowed to feel was pain.

I noticed you long before you borrowed the book. In all honesty, I was just as nervous to talk to you as you mentioned to me. I thought it was a game, really, on who can approach who first. And I lost when you did the irresistible: taking an erotic novel and pretending to read it with an expressionless innocent face. That little encounter started all the hilarious jokes and the little dates. There was nothing wrong about your questions and little interviews but forgive me if I am so reserved (Yes, the reason why I didn't choose to finish school was because of my condition). You'd never think of me as the same bookworm in the library if I told you all of my secrets - specifically about Leukemia.

But we started to hang-out and I let it all happen. There was nothing more refreshing than taking your guard off and having fun. I don't know what made me trust you- maybe it was because you don't look at me with pity, or the way you made me feel safe or that you built up some hope in me. You were a constant reminder of who I can't and never have. But you were there, three chairs away from me, so close yet so far. Ever since I started getting to know you, all I wanted was to close the distance.

So I made a gamble with myself, to give this one last chance, if that meant I'd have an opportunity to have a future with you, even if all we will ever end up is friends. And I accepted the operation, provided with the risks. I couldn't explain everything to you before I'd undergo operation. What's the point of worrying you over something you can't control especially if I'd just end up dead?

God answered my prayers, and I was saved. I got my second chance and all I want to do is spend it with you. But that's your choice. I'll be right here waiting where the heaven's cried.

Love,

Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. I know Eve.

I know.

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