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dexiao · 4 years

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Business trip (m) | Xiao Dejun

Synopsis: Y/N and Dejun worked together for 8 years as book editors and never got along, but they’re forced to travel together to a small town and get stuck there because of a snowstorm.

Pairing: Xiao Dejun x female reader

Words: 4.9k

Genre: Book editors!au, light angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut

Warnings: safe sex, oral (female receiving), handjob (male receiving)

A/N: I guess this took me about 3 weeks or more to write because I just ran out of inspiration, and then when I finally got inspiration again I was super busy with college stuff. About the plot, I think it showed a bit of dominance from Dejun, BUT if I decide to keep writing in this same universe/context, it’ll probably show a lot more of a sub!Xiaojun (I just get these vibes, idk?). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your opinion and/or if you found any mistakes!

This is a work of fiction. It does not portray the real personality of the member.

Books are probably my favorite thing on Earth besides my dog. I love the thought of living surrounded by books because it made me feel safe. Thus, it made just perfect to sense to work as a book editor.

In general, I felt satisfied about my job. I mostly did things I enjoy and with people I feel comfortable with – except by one other editor, Xiao Dejun. We were hired at the same time, 8 years ago, and never really got along.

At first, I tried my best to be nice and friendly to him – just like I acted with everyone else at the company – and he seemed to buy it for some time, until he changed overnight and started acting like a bitch. And by ‘acting like a bitch’ I don’t mean only not doing any favors I asked him. Actually, he wouldn’t do the bare minimum, like holding the elevator door or answering the telephone for me when I went to the restroom.

So you can imagine how co-working with him must be the least likeable thing about my job. That’s what made me angrier when our boss demanded that we traveled together.

“Don’t even look at me with those faces.” John, the boss, stated. “You both know Dejun is our best editor on thriller stories and Y/N is best with dealing with people. Especially in this case that the writer never published anything on his entire life.” I sighed and noticed Dejun getting ready to complain as Johnny made a brief pause. “I know you to are my best choice. I don’t give a shit if you hate each other because I trust both of you as professionals.”

That settled it.

And that’s why we traveled to Irisburg in the middle of the winter in the first place.

It took about 3 hours by car – I was driving – to get to the small town. The trip was silent most of the time, the only sounds being my Arctic Monkeys playlist, the car’s engine and eventually the rain pouring.

Dejun and I talked strictly talked about the reason of the trip and nothing else. In other words, we talked for about 15 minutes only, and avoided saying anything for the rest of the time.

The meeting lasted around 2 hours. Since the writer was a beginner, we had to explain everything about how the company works, his rights and duties. I’d hypocritical if I didn’t admit John was right. Dejun and I conducted the reunion very well.

The problem was that during the meeting, an unexpected snowstorm began. We were fully clothed, prepared to face the cold weather, but not to face the road block due to the snow. Needless to say we both were pissed off by the situation.

“Maybe we should call John.” Dejun suggested. “Tell him about the meeting and about this.”

“You’re right.” I said, already reaching for my phone.

“As always.”

I rolled my eyes at his words, pressing the call button and discovering that my phone was out of service.

“Oooh hell, no. This can’t be.” I widened my eyes at Dejun, who was staring at me with a confused expression. “Is your phone working?”

Dejun checked his phone.

“Fuck, no.”

I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair.

“Let’s find somewhere we can use a phone, then.”

“Alright, and keep calm.” Dejun said, the stress palpable in his tone.

“I am calm, I’m just frustrated.” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road and looking for somewhere we could stop at.

“I was telling that to myself.”

After a few minutes we stopped at a convenience store. I went straight to the restroom to wash my face and try to calm down. Though I tried not to show that to Dejun, I was really nervous about being stuck in this town.

A moment later, I exited the restroom and found Dejun talking to the cashier, seeming worried. As the cashier glanced at me, Dejun turned around to face me as well.

“It seems like we have no way out. All roads are blocked until the snow stops and the streets are cleaned. Even if we call Johnny, there’s nothing to do.” He stated.

“That is great, really. Is there even a hotel in this fucking town?”

“There is one three blocks from here.” The cashier said, obviously containing a laugh at my reaction.

“Thank you, Zack.” Dejun replied and walked towards me, lowering his voice and putting a hand on my arm. “Look, Y/N. I don’t like this situation either, but it could be worse. At least we won’t have to sleep in your car.”

Although what I interpreted from his sentence was more like ‘at least we won’t have to sleep together’, I had to admit Dejun was right again, so I exhaled heavily. So I gave up, feeling my shoulders shrink.

“Let me just grab some coffee and then we can go, alright?”

“Sure.” He smiled briefly. “Maybe we should eat too.”

So we ended up eating sandwiches and drinking coffee at the convenience store, complaining about the situation and grabbing some snacks for the night. We ran to the car, trying to protect from the wind and the snow the best way we could.

As we entered the hotel, I already noticed how modest it was. The building only had three floors, no elevator and the decoration was very simple. The receptionist was a man who seemed to be around 50 years old.

“Good evening, how may I help this beautiful couple?” He smiled. I looked at Dejun in amusement, just to see his face becoming red.

“Actually we’re not a couple.” I responded, smiling fondly. Dejun waited behind me. “We’d like two single rooms.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. But we only have one room left and only has a double bed.” I felt my expression change at his words.

“Isn’t there a couch or a spare mattress?” Dejun asked, coming closer to the table.

“There isn’t, I’m sorry.” The man answered, visibly apologetic.

“It’s ok. You can have the room, I’ll sleep on the car. Just let me take a shower.” I suggested.

Dejun nodded and the man gave us the key to room n. 23.

Dejun and I climbed up the stairs to room n. 23 in silence.

I unlocked the door and we both stepped in, taking a good glance at the room.

It wasn’t that bad. The bed had lilac sheets. There were some flyers, a lamp and a vase with artificial peonies on top of the nightstands on both sides of the bed. There was a desk and a chair close to the window, and an open wardrobe with blankets and towels.

“Do you want to shower first? I don’t mind” He asked, walking towards a nightstand to look at the flyers.

“Alright.”

I grabbed a clean towel and threw it over my right shoulder, heading to the bathroom. When I opened the door, I realized another issue.

“Actually…” I turned to Dejun, who mindfully read something. “I just realized I don’t have clean clothes to put on.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and mouth.

“Crap, me neither.”

I dropped the towel on the chair and closed the bathroom door again, sighing.

“Maybe we should ask the receptionist if there’s a Target or something nearby.” I suggested, already grabbing my purse and walking out of the room. Dejun followed me.

It turned out that there’s wasn’t a Target nor anything nearby. We ended up back to the convenience store from before. And there weren’t many options on what to buy.

It was pretty compelling to browse for clothes with someone I am not close at all. Knowing each other and working together for years never made that.

Therefore, I left the store with new panties, sweatpants and a hairbrush. Dejun also bought underwear and sweatpants (matching colors with mine since there were only gray pants on sale), along with razor blades.

Back in the hotel, Dejun started laughing as we entered the room. So I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You gotta admit, Y/N. Even though we don’t get along, we’ll have a lot of stories to tell from this event.”

I let out a breathy laugh and went to the shower.

As the hot water poured on my body, I tried to keep my mind from becoming paranoid. Everything would be alright. I would sleep in the car, get up by the sunrise, drink coffee and read my book at the convenience store until the snow melted, and by tomorrow noon we would be back home.

Out of the shower, I dressed up and blow dried my hair as quick as possible. When I left the bathroom, Dejun stood by the window, with the towel hanging on this neck.

Our eyes met and he went straight to the bathroom after realizing it was his turn, but stopped before closing the door and faced me again.

“What do you think about having dinner here? It’s getting late and I doubt there’s any place we can go by now. Besides, I took a peek at the menu and it seems pretty decent.”

“Can I think about it while you shower?” I asked, pondering the pros and cons of just eating the snacks I bought previously.

“Sure.” He said and closed the door.

I laid in the bed and reached for the menu flyer from the nightstand.

I opened my eyes and frowned, not remembering where I was for a moment. I had been sleeping for who knows how much time. Dejun was at the door, talking to someone. I sat on the bed and rubbed my eyes, hearing him shut the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He stated, apologetic. He held a tray with pizza and coke. Also, Dejun was wearing glasses, which he never did at the company. And he looked pretty good like that. In sweatpants, glasses, hair still a little wet. A pretty domestic sight to look at.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for sleeping too.” I smiled, feeling shy.

“Anyway, since you were asleep I ordered pizza for us.” He motioned his head towards the table where he left the tray.

On top of the chair in front of the table laid a wet towel, that I supposed was Xiao’s since I left mine next to me on the bed.

Then I realized that it remained untouched. It was almost one hour and forty minutes since Dejun entered the shower, so he must have been sitting on that chair all of this time.

That made me feel even more ashamed of falling asleep.

“Y/N, is everything ok?” He asked, sitting on the chair.

“Oh, sure! Just let me wash my face before we eat ‘cause I’m still half asleep.” I responded, grabbing the towel next to me and heading to the bathroom, hearing Xiao laugh.

I hung the towel on the shower stall and threw the cold water on my face, feeling more awake instantly.

As I left the bathroom, Dejun had already opened the pizza box and brought it to the bed, the glasses of coke on one of the nightstands.

He zapped mindlessly through the TV channels, stopping in a Sandra Bullock movie.

We ate sitting on the bed, legs crossed like kids.

Grabbing my second slice of pizza, I decided to not let the meal be silent as most of the day had been.

“You know, Dejun, this situation sucks. But I have to admit that I underestimated you. I am enjoying being with you.” I said, looking at the pizza before taking a bite. Xiao raised one eyebrow at my words.

“You say this but you literally slept like 90% of the time we spent here.” He replied, teasingly. I rolled my eyes and he stretched his arm to grab the glasses of coke, handing me one.

I took a sip immediately, but Xiao put his glasses on top of his head like a tiara before drinking, leaving me with a confused expression. Realizing that I glanced at him, he explained.

“It sprinkles on the lenses if I drink anything sparkling with glasses on.”

“Oh, I see.” I nodded. “I never saw you using glasses at the company.”

“I don’t. I wear contact lenses most of the time.”

“Really? But you look good in glasses.”

Dejun’s surprised face and laugh made me realize what I just said, feeling my face become red and looking down. Cursing mentally, deciding it was best to keep the silence that reigned previously starting from now.

“Well, thank you, Y/N.” He said, still giggling a little. “You’re not bad yourself.”

After one more slice of pizza, I was full. Dejun was still eating the second slice, a lot slower than me.

“I guess it’s time to go now.” I spoke, getting up from the bed and going to pick up my stuff.

Xiao grabbed my arm and I looked at him in a jolt, my eyes meeting his brown ones.

“Already?”

My eyes shifted from his face to his hand on my arm before I could think of an answer, and he let go of the grip visibly more shy.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…” He began, scratching the back of his neck. “… you seemed so tired, you drove a lot and will have to drive again tomorrow. The car isn’t a proper place to rest.”

I stood static for a few seconds.

“Are you sure? We’d have to share the bed.” I said, timidly.

“Yeah, we’re both adults. Besides, you already said you find me attractive, so I suppose it’s not a problem to you.”

I rolled my eyes and went back to picking up my things, pissed at his comment.

“You’re so full of yourself.” I mumbled.

“For fucks sake, do you know what a joke is, Y/N?” He said exasperatedly.

“Apparently I’m the joke to you.”

Xiao grunted and though I wasn’t looking at him, I could imagine him rolling his eyes just as I did before. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, resting elbows on his knees.

“You’re such a drama queen sometimes! You can’t even stand to read a few words without falling asleep, how well rested do you think you will be tomorrow after sleeping in a car in this fucking freezing weather?”

“So what the hell do you want me to do?” I practically yelled, closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and sitting on the chair before looking at him again.

He didn’t answer but kept staring at me, and I calmed down after a while of silence. The tension was palpable in the air.

Momentarily, I let my eyes drop to Dejun’s mouth.

Realizing my stare, Dejun licked his lips and I opened mine involuntarily before searching for his eyes. Dejun brought his face closer to mine and spoke in a low, soft tone.

“I want you to kiss me.”

He slowly shifted his gaze to my lips and brushed softly the back of his left hand against my right cheek. I breathed heavily, inhaling his citric perfume, before leaning closer to him, blank minded and only feeling a sudden need to lick his inviting lips.

I rested my left hand on his thigh to support myself, closing my eyes as I felt our lips touch.

Dejun’s mouth was half open and I could sense the warmth and humidity of his tongue, making me crave for contact. I sighed and slipped the tip of my tongue to touch his lips, feeling myself salivate at the sensation. Dejun lodged one his hands close to my nape and the other on my waist, and I felt my heart rate increase due to the way he held me tighter.

I gasped as Xiao’s tongue touched mine and deepened the kiss. It was wet and slow, allowing us to savor each other’s mouth. My hands reached for his hair, pulling it lightly so he would realize that I was enjoying it. After a few moments, I broke the kiss and moved back a little, opening my eyes and gazing at his face.

His cheeks had a light blush and lips were flushed as well, lust showing in his eyes wide open. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen Dejun be.

“Is this what you wanted?” I whispered.

“That’s not even close to what I wanted, Y/N.” Xiao responded, elevating his tone. I frowned, looking down and distancing myself more at his words, unable to avoid feeling insufficient, as I couldn’t satisfy his wish. Both his hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him again. “I want to kiss you so much that your body will get tender. I want to kiss every inch of your skin until you melt under my lips, I want to hear you whine because of my touches. I want you to wrap your hands around my neck and tell me how you never felt so good.”

Dejun’s gaze fell on my lips again, as if asking for permission accomplish his cravings, so I closed my eyes in a silent consent.

The next thing I felt was his lips crashing on mine again, in a rougher and more intense kiss then before. His hands grabbed my thighs, motioning me to go onto his lap. I got up and kneeled on the bed, one leg on each side of him, lowering my body to position on top of his hip. By this time, Xiao’s hands traveled up to my waist to guide me.

However, he didn’t mean for me to be on top of him, since he turned us both around, making me lay on the bed and positioning his body in the middle of my legs. His mouth descended to my jaw and neck, leaving a hot trail of open mouthed kisses and licks. Hands traveled from my waist to my thighs, squeezing the flesh. I could feel my panties becoming damp, curling my toes in desire.

“And you know what else I want, Y/N?” He asked, pressing his bulge against my pelvis, making groan at the feeling. I shook my head in denial as he kept grinding on my body. “I want to eat you out every fucking day at the office. I want your sighs to be because of me and not anything else. You look so pretty all focused on work, makes me insane thinking on how many ways I could tease you to distraction.”

“Fuck, Dejun.” I moaned, pressing his head closer to my neck and forcing my torso along his slightly toned body, one of my hands entering under the collar of his t-shirt. Dejun lightly bit my neck before getting away, removing his jacket. I removed my hand from his skin and ran it through his upper body, feeling his muscles become stiff under my touch.

He leaned and pressed a kiss on my stomach, then started to lift up my blouse. I rose my body in order to help, head standing close to Xiao’s. As he finished taking my top off, Xiao went in for another kiss, hands moving to my chest and squeezing my breasts beneath the bra.

I tugged at his t-shirt, attempting to take it off. Dejun undressed the piece of cloth and turned around, dropping it behind his body.

It was beautiful to see. Dejun’s now obvious erection pointed through his sweatpants. His light torso muscles contracted by turning around. When he faced me again, I couldn’t help but pull him closer, embracing his waist with my legs and his neck with my arms, craving for the sensation of his skin upon mine. Xiao started rolling his hips against my pelvis, so I kissed his neck to block the noises from coming out of my mouth. I could feel the outline of his member teasing me over the clothes.

His hands ran by the sides of my body and teased the waistband of my pants. He squeezed my thighs and butt, exposing his desire to take the piece off by the way he massaged the flesh from top to bottom.

I removed my legs from around him and positioned each foot on the bed, keeping knees flexed.

“Take these off.” I whispered.

Xiao raised his body a little, allowing me to lift my hips and help him undress me. He slid the piece along my legs, moving back. Only in bra and panties I completely laid down again. Dejun moved his head back until right above my right knee, sticking out his tongue and licking the inner part of my leg until reaching my underwear. The sensation of his hot and humid tongue close to my center made me involuntarily contract my abdomen in anticipation.

“Can I take these off to?” He asked, looking at me again while rushing his index finger on the edge of the cloth.

“Hm-hmm.” I nodded, preparing to lift my hips again.

He grabbed each side of the panties and slid it off at once, coming back licking the inner part of my left leg as he did to the right. One of his hands reached from under my thigh and pressed right under my bellybutton to keep me still, in a way that my leg rested on his shoulder.

I closed my eyes as I felt his breath hit my pussy, in expectation of contact. But it didn’t come.

I looked at Xiao’s amused expression between my legs. He held a devilish smile looking back at me.

“Can I?” He asked, pressing a kiss to my left inner thigh, so close to my core I could barely notice the difference.

“Please, Dejun-”

His tongue finally met my clit in soft circular and licking motions, and I felt a wave of warmth through my body, letting out a subtle moan. His free hand moved to my entrance, teasing.

“I wish I could have you like this every day.” He mumbled, distancing his head a bit to massage my clit with his fingers. His chin and lips glowed from my wetness. He licked his lips and moved his fingers down to my entrance again and penetrating me with his middle finger. We both bit our lips at the same time, and I closed my eyes as he started trusting his finger in and out. After a few trusts I felt an emptiness and attempted opening my eyes again, but stopping from being overwhelmed with the pleasure of Dejun sliding two fingers in and returning his mouth to my clit

His fingers curled against my walls and his mouth was now much more feral the before. He licked and sucked firmly at the spot, giving me continuous delight. My legs started to contract from the sensation, toes curled as I opened my eyes to watch Dejun eating me out.

Xiao’s eyes were both open and staring directly at my face, making me twitch and unleash a slow and heavy moan. I supported myself on one elbow and the other hand moved to grab Dejun’s hair. I could feel my eyebrows furrow against my will every time he pressed his mouth a little harder against me.

By the grab on his hair I pushed myself upon his face and rolled my hips. Dejun was clearly surprised, raising eyebrows and letting out a hum on my skin, enhancing the pleasure with the vibration from his voice. As he tried to repeat the act, I pushed him away by the forehead. His expression changed to confusion.

“I don’t want to come yet.” I explained, still gasping.

Dejun nodded and bent to kiss my lips, tasting saltier than before. I grabbed his jaw, willing to feel with my hand the arousal that covered his face, making it slippery. He supported his body with his arms by the sides of my head, pressing his erection against my dripping pussy.

“Dejun?” I whispered, breaking the kiss.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ride your cock?”

Dejun gasped at my question, immediately rolling to the side and pulling me on top of him. His back rested against the headboard and his arms circled my body, giving licks and kisses on my neck and around my collarbones. I felt his hands unclasp the bra before his kisses moved to my naked breasts. At first he just softly licked around the left nipple, circling it with his tongue, then tried his best to fit all he could from the boob inside his mouth, still moving his tongue against the skin.

At the same time, my nails scratched his back and nape, and I rolled my hips on top of his rock hard bulge.

Dejun’s hands fell to my butt, squeezing each side and pressing my body down in an attempt to guide my movements. With my right hand, as he distanced a little in order to regain his breath, I tugged at his waistband. All I could think of was Dejun’s cock filling me up, but the clothes in the way and his grip weren’t helping.

Xiao understood what I wanted and released my hips, so I lifted myself and he pulled both pants and underwear until the middle of his thighs. His gray pants had a large wet stain, and as he took it off his dick jumped up, hitting his abdomen. I licked my lips at the thought of how helpless he looked.

“Do you have a condom?” I asked. He nodded and pointed at the wallet on top of the table. I stood up to reach for it and threw it to Xiao, who urgently caught the small package inside.

Back on top of him, I took the condom off his hands. However, before sliding it along his shaft, I grabbed it by the base and pumped a couple of times, anxious to touch Xiao as closely as he touched me. He closed his eyes and groaned, before staring at me again almost angrily.

I slid the condom down his cock and positioned it on my entrance, trying to smear it with my arousal. As I sank down, we both cursed under our breaths. I closed my eyes for a while as I adjusted to his size. When I opened them again, Dejun’s gaze laid on my face, his hands just resting on my thighs.

I leaned to lick his lips and hold his shoulders, but Xiao only received my tongue inside his mouth and mindlessly sucked at it. I moaned loudly and began moving on his cock, feeling his grip tighten on my legs.

Dejun also started trusting into me in small movements, making me groan once again and break the kiss. He held my gaze at his eyes, so dark and full of desire, the effort causing him to contract his forehead. His lips were pink and plump, I couldn’t avoid the thought of him sucking my fingers.

As this image filled my head, I felt myself clench around his member. Xiao moaned loud and beautifully, leaning in an attempt to kiss me again. Never mind how bad I wanted to feel those lips on mine, I interrupted him with hand on his chest.

“I’m not gonna kiss you anymore. I want to hear those beautiful moans.” I explained, leaning to kiss his neck right under his left ear before even seeing his reaction, causing another moan, now lower, to come out his mouth.

After a few more moments, my legs started to feel tired, the I leaned back to have a bit of release on my thigh muscles. At my movement, Dejun, who had more space to move, began trusting deeper and I could perfectly sense his dick coming in and out of me, coated with my juices.

My abdomen started contracting and I knew my climax had its way.

“Fuck, Dejun, I’m close.” I warned, gasping.

He moved one hand to my clit, massaging it with his thumb in circular movements. Added to his hip moves, it was enough to trigger my orgasm. I clenched and felt my whole body contract and tremble on top of him, then feeling Xiao reach his on high as his cock pulsated inside of me.

I let out a breathy laugh while looking at Xiao’s fucked out face, messy hair and all sweaty. Anyway, I lifted my body to slip out of him and pressed a kiss on his lips, cupping his face in my hands.

“Maybe sleeping here isn’t such a bad idea after all.” I chuckled. Dejun opened a bright smile, putting his arms on my waist.

“You should’ve know I was right.” He joked, making me playfully roll my eyes.

“But we’re gonna need another shower anyway.” I said, laying by his side in contradiction to my words.

We kept staring at each other as our bodies cooled down and Dejun became soft, so he stopped patting my hair and went for a shower. As he was entering the bathroom, I called him.

“Dejun?”

“Yes?” He turned his face to me.

“With this tongue of yours, I’ll let you eat me out at the office whenever you want.” I smiled. Dejun laughed and shook his head before closing the door.

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curious-menace · 3 years

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Arkham!Riddler SFW Alphabet

When I started this one I figured it would be easier since I can riddle as bi and ace and this is all non-sexual but my god was it difficult. It's hard to separate what i'd like from a partner like riddler from what this version of riddler would actually be like. I've done my best but if you have anything you'd like to add, feel free to hmu!

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Edward can be affectionate in quite a superficial way. He’s not above using someone's affections for him to get what he wants out of them and he certainly isn't above feigning affection for the same reason. Although unless you were head over heels for him, his faux sincerity would be pretty obvious.

However with a partner he actually likes i can imagine he’d be very affectionate with his actions more than his words. Riddler loves to talk but expressing actual love can be difficult for him, whether it’s romantic or platonic, saying how he feels about you is one of the few things that doesn't come easy. I can see him spending a lot of money on you as a gesture of affection; fancy food , clothes, first editions of your favorite books or vintage versions of whatever you collect. He’d quite happily pay for your education/college and any and all books you might want.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Being a “best friend” would probably be at your insistence and not his. He’s likely left any childhood friends behind (assuming he had any to begin with) and I think as an adult, Edward would have trouble making friends. Like most things, Edward treats friendship as just another tool in the bag, he can count the people he actually gives a shit about on 1 hand.

If you were lucky (or unlucky depending on your view) to be considered one of those friends, expect lots of phone calls about bailing him out, riddles turning up in weird places ( like in the pocket of a coat you haven't worn in a while) and him helping you out with your cerebral challenges( like your quarterly tax return, no eddie i can't just NOT do it will you put down the rubix cube and help me)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’ll never admit it, not even under pain of death, but Edward likes to be held. Now there's a few caveats to this; his rules and on his terms etc. He likes to lie between your legs with his head on your chest, either facing you for a hug while he naps or away from you, using you like a pillow while he reads or tinkers with something. He likes having his hair played with and his back gently stroked until he falls asleep.

He keeps up the facade of being totally touch adversed for good reason, the other rouges just do not respect personal space, even ones like killer croc and clayface. For the sake of his suits, he keeps this up even in private. But if you were someone special to him, you might convince him to toss his arm around your shoulder or waist.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

When he’s doing well mentally, he’s pretty good at taking care of himself. Or at least, looking like he takes good care of himself. He can cook and clean a little but he has the cash to pay other people to do the more menial or time consuming stuff for him. Not that he’s above it, he just prefers to spend his time on other things and is happy to compensate people to save him from doing it. These days he's more focused on other things to be bothered with domestic chores, his place is very messy.

Settling down is an alien concept to him, not one he’s eager to explore. Expect him to turn his nose up at the prospect of marriage but a platonic long term partner, someone for company, someone to act as a sounding board for ideas or even just someone to (gently but firmly) kick his ass into looking after himself would be pretty ideal.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d probably be thinking long and hard about it beforehand. Like weeks if not months in advance. He’d want to give you the perfect breakup and, depending on what happened, try his best to part as friends. He doesn't deal well with sudden changes to his routine, particularly with no plans ahead. On the other hand he might just pussy out and ghost you. He’s fickle like that.

If it was your doing, well. Edward takes these sorts of things as a challenge. He might even assume you were joking the first time around. After he got the message, I sense he’d probably be quite clingy and upset. It’s taken a lot for him to get so far with you and he wouldn't let it go without a fight. He might try to change or at the very least , be better at hiding whatever it was that you want to break it off.

Failing that expect a lot of texts from blocked numbers almost but not quite begging or apologizing and asking for more chances.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Like I said above, marriage isn't for him. I doubt he'd be compatible with a religious person given his childhood and outspoken atheism. He MIGHT if pressed, give you a question mark themed ring or token as a reminder that you were his. No papers, no ceremony, just something small. If you proposed expect him to be flustered and , if you can believe it, at a loss for words. He might go radio silent on you for a few days before giving you an answer but i honestly couldn't tell you what it might be. He does enjoy the thought of someone referring to him as “my husband” thought, so maybe persistent begging i'll get you somewhere.

Some sort of Commitment appeals to him from a practical point; having someone to rely on, to fall back on and to care and be cared for by. It's not a normal relationship by any stretch of the imagination but it’ll be special all the same.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Edward isn't an imposing man. He might be tall but he’s all sinus and no mass. He has gentle hands but can be careless when he’s in a mood ( with objects, never with you). He's broken a lot of plates, computer monitors and mechanical pencils over the years. He lacks a lot of social grace to treat things with the necessary amount of sensitivity sometimes, but he has the sense to at least TRY and be emotionally gentle. Situations of abuse or self worth issues, things he has personal experience dealing with are things he can easily empathise with .

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Short story, yes but only coming from a trusted partner. Long story is that he has a hard time not flinching when someone hugs him by surprise. You should ask before you do it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Edward is the kind of person to fall head over heels very quickly. He might say I love you before it's socially appropriate, it honestly might make you a little uncomfortable. But once that initial infatuation dies he's a lot more guarded with his feelings. He’d say i love you in a superficial way quickly but a genuine i love you with real emotion would take a lot of time and thought from him before he actually committed to it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If you look up jealousy in the dictionary, you'd see Edward's picture. Obviously he is a deeply insecure man, he’s terrified you’ll start to think of him the way he thinks of himself and seek out someone better. You need to nip any signs of jealousy in your relationship in the bud early on. Otherwise Edward will become controlling, manipulative and possessive to the point of alienating you from other people, simply for the sake of having you to himself. You need to set healthy boundaries while also doing your best to accommodate his need to be validated and his need for reassurance that you do in fact want to be with him. He gets snappy when he’s jealous, with you and other people. He has temper tantrums like a child if you don't agree with him. Like for example if he thinks someone was flirting with you and you tell him they were just being friendly.

All that said, I genuinely don't think he does it for the sake of being a controlling partner. He is just so very afraid that someone he actually gives a shit about will leave him like everyone else in his life.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I should point out that he doesn't kiss often. But when he does,He’s all over the damn place. What he lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm. He is a very sloppy kisser when he gets into it but generally his kisses are very short and chaste. Like i said, he doesn't really know what he's doing so he's all over the place in terms of location. I think smooches on the cheek because it's easy access, for him and you. He likes body worship, so if you're kissing him, anywhere will do as long as you're praising that part while you do it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Edward does not like children but he’s good pretending for the sake of his image. Childrens naturally inquisitive nature coupled with his bright and colourful appearance makes for some entertaining moments but in the long run I can see him worrying too much: about screwing the kid up, about being perceived like his father, about the child not meeting his expectations etc.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's more of a night owl tbh. If you're living with him he might wander into the kitchen while you're getting breakfast , wondering why you're up so late. You'd have to tell him he’s accidentally pulled another all nighter. He might have coffee with you and talk about what he was working on, maybe ask if he could have some breakfast with you. But by the time it's cooked he’ll have passed out on the sofa.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Edward prefers to work and operate at night so expect him to be in a flurry of activity, building things, calling people and working at his computer. He likes to have company, even if you aren't doing much talking. It would be nice for him to just spend time with you while you both work on your respective projects. Sometimes he gets his shit together and lives during the day like most people ( read as, when he’s just been to prison and has an actual schedule for once) he would like to unwind with you by watching game shows or playing video games.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Edward has a bad habit of gloating about his accomplishments but in a way that is so obviously false it unintentionally tells more about him than he really wanted to. Like in Arkham knight, he gloats about “not having any friends at all” in reference to his riddler bots when Catwoman teases him. He meant that as a snipe at catwoman but the fact he’s so open about his lack of friends, to most people anway, is incredibly sad.

He’s a well known villain, if you didn't know most of his backstory before dating him it would be hard to miss once you were together. He’s unlikely to tell you it himself, having to repeat it time and time again in therapy has him perpetually bored of the subject .

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He gets upset quite easily, he has very limited patience . He’s used to other people's cuts and jibes so he mostly lets that roll off his back with only a little annoyance. But for stupid people, and people outright insulting him, dismissing him or for acting like batman he is liable to start seeing red very quickly . In your relationship I would say he is easily irritated by a lot of things, generally a bit grumpy if things don't go his way but rarely as angry as we see him in the climax of Arkham knight. He doesn't yell or shout at you but he will seethe and let his anger fester for days at a time. He can be very mean when he’s angry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You would think for someone with a photographic memory, he would be better at remembering things about you. It's not to say he DOESN'T remember, only that he requires prompting to do so. Yes, he will remember everything about you but he puts it in the back of his head so he can focus on other things. Don't be surprised if he lets important dates slip by or does things at the last minute because something reminded him of it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It's probably something innocuous that you wouldn't think of, or even realise he was there for. Maybe he remembers meeting you in a coffee shop months or years before you met and started dating. He remembers because you held the door for him or gave him a genuine smile. You were something colourful in his gray day, something hard to forget. I doubt he tried to build a relationship out of that one moment but when he met you again he would remember that and decide that it was fate or something.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Edward is protective in a strange way. He’s most powerful in situations where he controls everything , which isn't usually possible in real life as he's not a particularly strong man. He has more power in the digital world so that's where he feels most comfortable looking out for you. He might watch you on security cameras to make sure you get home safe, send you texts to check in or hide your profile from the police. You can be online together and in the public eye ( for him to brag about you to his online followers of course). To tie back in with his jealousy, he would be pretty protective initially but if you told him to back off, he’d be careful to do it more secretly.

Edward needs to be protected in a lot of ways, mostly from himself. He’s not good at looking after himself, either physically, mentally or socially. His big mouth gets him into a lot of bother so he might need you to act as a social filter. He’s had several large breakdowns in the last few years and with arkham closed for good, he has no support besides you. He needs to be grounded and kept in the present lest he get wrapped up in his thoughts.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Honestly? He doesn't really try. He's very lucky in that he can pull something out of his ass last minute and it would still have a similar effect to if he’d spent the whole month planning. Someday it's going to blow up in his face big time but he doesn't seem to care.

Same goes for everyday tasks. He's usually so focused on his own stuff that he doesn't realise other things need done. He's a master of doing things at the last second and still making it look like he put in effort.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a bad habit of underestimating people, even you. He might be inclined to patronise you when you try to do things for him but just showing him that you are a capable human being is usually enough to shut him up. He's very egocentric, narcissistic and conceited, but given everything he's been through, it's not really his fault he's like this. What is his doing is his refusal to work on his faults or try to grow as a person. Perhaps with the right encouragement you could help him but don't hold your breath.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Normally yes, Edward is narcissistic and very concerned with his looks but recently, with his mental health declining, he's forgotten to take care of himself. I imagine when/if he snaps out of this funk he’ll be mortified by how he’s let himself go. He’s more concerned with how he looks socially, how he might be perceived and his reputation than what he physically looks like.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Edward is and always has been convinced he was meant to be alone. He’s somewhat made his peace with that . there would always be a hole in his heart that he really thought nothing could ever fill. But meeting you? Well that changes things. Edward will never be a complete, well rounded person but having someone to kiss his wounds and pour their love into the cracks in his being is infinitely better than being alone.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I mentioned in some of my mini headcanons for him that he used to do gymnastics as a kid. It wasn't so much that he wanted to or even enjoyed it all that much, in his highschool you just had to pick a sport and it was one of the only things that wasnt team related and had the lowest chance of being hit in the head with a ball, bat or racket. He was pretty good at it, even if he didnt like it that much , and probably could have taken home some bronze or silver awards in his state if his parents had encouraged him. Nowadays he can barely do a pullup but he's still got most of the flexibility, even if repeated breaks at the hands of batman have left him a little sore while he does it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Edward doesn't like people appearing to be smarter than him. but his ego usually protects him from acknowledging that fact. he doesn't like bullies, despite being one himself . but his most hated trait in people is alcohol use/ dependency. If he knew you were an alcoholic he likely never would have started dating you but even the odd drink will make him turn his nose up. of course, hes a hypocrite , when hes feeling really sorry for himself he will definitely drink his sorrows away in whatever hole in the ground gotham rogues frequent. the self loathing is as strong as his hangover the next morning. he knows hes like his father, in more ways than one and it makes him sick. any mention of alcohol is likely to bring up these feelings

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Edward is a chronic insomniac but there is one thing that is guaranteed to send him right to the land of nod and that is having his hair played with and his back stroked. I don't know if it was one of the few kind touches he ever received as a child or if his parents did it when he was a baby but it's one of the few things that makes him feel truly safe and cared for. Riddler has spent the majority of his life alone, so finding a partner he trusts enough to allow them not only into his space but also his bed would be a difficult thing. If that's you, however, expect him to be badgering you every night to help him get to sleep.

that took a lot longer than i thought it would! arkham riddler is obviously my favorite so i was trying to write a lot for him but i hope i havent been rambling

if you want to talk more about any of the riddlers, hmu!

#riddler headcanons #The Riddler #Riddler #arkham riddler #sfw alphabet #edward nygma #edward nigma #batman arkham knight #arkham knight riddler #arkham knight #headcanons #my headcanons #my stuff #my art

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mydisasteracademia · 3 years

Text

SFW Alphabet: Izuku Midoriya

Aaaaand here’s everyone’s favorite green bean! Look at my baby, all grown up and ready to destroy people. (wipes away tear)

(Both of y’all are around 16 here. Don’t worry, nothing horrible here! Just two dorks in love.)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s incredibly affectionate to you. He’s definitely more of a verbal affirmation kind of guy (and if you identify as female he’s gonna be horribly flustered if you try to hug him). He always talks to you and encourages you, and his smile is just adorable.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Your friendship likely started when he was on a trip into town and he noticed you needed some help carrying a couple of boxes. The two of you hit it off right away (especially due to the fact that you were wearing an All Might shirt). As your best friend, he’s incredibly chatty and smiley. He loves hanging out with you and just talking about things. When you first showed him your Quirk, he was so starstruck that you both spent an entire lunch just talking about it. He’s so sweet it’s hard not to get along with him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s so shy with physical affection it’s hard to cuddle with him without him fainting. Usually he only cuddles with you when he’s half-asleep and unaware of what he’s doing, and only then he pulls you to his side and all but curls himself around you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He can cook a little bit, and he can clean fairly well. At the moment, he doesn’t want to settle down. He wants to become a pro hero first. Judging by his commitment to the grind, the day he gets married and has a family may never come.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would kill him, but he’d set you down and gently explain why you can’t be together anymore. He would keep any and all tears at bay until he’s alone, and then he spends a night training and crying, trying to get your hurt expression out of his mind.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s very reluctant to commit. He’s still just a teenager, after all, and he’s got a whole career as a hero ahead of him. He doesn’t want to get married because he doesn’t want his loved ones in danger; he already keeps his mom fairly out of the loop just because he doesn’t want Shigaraki going after her.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s definitely a little more gentle with you in both ways. He really cares for you and doesn’t want to hurt you, especially while you’re a civilian. This can be a bit of a double-edged sword at times, but he more than makes up for it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Having grown up with a really affectionate mom, Izuku likes hugs. He can’t help but get horribly flustered every time you hug him, but he does love them. He’s not going to initiate it, but he hugs back tight enough so that you can’t be separated. Sometimes when he’s sleepy he’ll wander around and hug you, hiding his face in your neck as he mumbles something about his mother. It’s really cute.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take a lot for him to realize he caught feelings for you. Like, a lot. This boy is so oblivious it’s likely he’d never actually say it. It would take you telling him for him to start thinking about it, and even then it would be a while before he admits it back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He can get fairly jealous, but depending on who it is he’s not going to act on it. Usually it comes about that he gets insecure about your relationship and is worried that you’ll find someone better than him. If he gets a seriously bad vibe about the person you’re with, he'll go up to you and try to walk you away.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

If you kiss him right on the mouth, he’s going to pass out. If you kiss him on the cheek, he gets red as a tomato and starts stuttering. It can be irritating sometimes. He does like it, though; he’s just so shy he doesn’t initiate. Sometimes he’ll kiss your forehead absentmindedly.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s pretty good around little kids. He’s got a way about him that gets their attention. It’s so adorable seeing him interact with kids like Kota and Eri due to how obviously starstruck they are.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Whoa now, both of you are still first-years. I don’t imagine ever sleeping at the same place (unless he needs a place to crash at in the future). Going ahead a few years, when he’s already a pro, it’s likely he’d get up way before you, cook breakfast for you, eat, and leave -- leaving a note saying that he thanks you for your hospitality and he’s sorry to impose. What a gentleman.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, going into the future when he’s a pro, the only way he’s staying the night at your place is if something happens and he needs to stay. He’s incredibly apologetic as he thanks you for letting him stay. He retires to the guest bed when you retire to your room, and he’s out like a light.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He doesn’t reveal anything about OFA, of course, but sometimes he’ll give you tidbits about his life. He tends to be a bit more hesitant about his past, but he has lots of stories about the present that he likes to share.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He can be very patient, especially when it comes to his friends. It takes a fair bit to set him off. Usually it’s when he sees an injustice that his friendly smile drops and he gets serious. Or when Bakugo is being horribly rude again, though that’s more of a rarity these days.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He documents everything he can about you. Sometimes this accidentally creeps into stalking territory, but he’s usually good about realizing that and backing off. He tries to remember everything you tell him about yourself because of how close you are.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment? He has a lot that he considers his ‘favorites’. Picking just one, though, he fondly remembers the first time you told him you loved him -- he was in the hospital after a bad run-in with a villain, and you visited him with flowers and tears, demanding that he not be so reckless because you loved him. It really got him thinking about your relationship and kicked off his realization that he loved you back.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s incredibly protective of those he cares about, and you are definitely not an exception. He’s so protective he would rather pull a Nana Shimura than let you get hurt because of him, so you’ll have to do a lot of scolding to get him to stay put.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts his all into stuff between you two. Gifts for every date, he remembers every anniversary (and gives you presents for that too), occasionally brings you your favorite snack whenever he sees you -- there’s a reason he jotted down everything he knows about you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Like I said before, he’s so self-sacrificing that he would pull a Nana before ever letting you get targeted. It can be infuriating when he avoids you for a while due to this, and while he is incredibly apologetic it’s the first thing his mind goes to. His mumbling can be a bit irritating if you don’t have the patience for it. He can be a bit of a stalker towards certain people until they realize and tell him to quit. He’s so dedicated to being a hero that it’s often all he thinks about.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He can be concerned, but only when he looks at his scars. Sometimes he can be fairly self-conscious about how scarred his body is, especially when he gets depressed and anxious.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Honestly? At first, but he would push it down in time. He loves you so much that he would rather you not have to associate with him if it meant you were safe, and no matter how much that hurts, he would do it. It doesn’t mean he wouldn’t keep an eye on you from afar, but eventually he would be able to push the pain down and go about his duties.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Gets incredibly clingy when he’s half-awake. So much so that Bakugo is the only one who’s used to it the first time it happens in the dorms (and surprisingly doesn’t make a fuss). Whenever there’s a major exam, there’s at least one night where Izuku passes out on someone and will not stop clinging to them. Usually it’s Uraraka or Iida, much to the former’s excitement/embarrassment.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Nothing villainous. Nobody rude, or abusive, or manipulative. He’s had enough abuse from his peers, and now that he’s got a healthy friend group, he’s not going to tolerate that from even a s/o. Especially not anyone who’s against the hero world. As much as he has his doubts, he’s not going to go out with a villain.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Fairly regular sleeping pattern, given that he’s only a student. He goes to bed kinda late, but wakes up early to work out.

#sfw alphabet #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #deku

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tachyon-at-rest · 3 years

Text

DOGS IN ELK

An insanely funny story of "domesticated" dogs reminding us that they are still kinda wild.

https://www.jerrypournelle.com/reports/jerryp/dogsinelk.html#dogs

From: Edward Hume <[email protected]> Date: Sun, 21 Nov 1999 20:40:36 -0500 Subj: Dogs in elk ____________________________________________________________

I edited the follow-up thread

The original is here:

http://www.gardenweb.com/forums/load/party/msg101444109927.html?2

dogs in elk Posted by Anita z8 Seattle ([email protected]) on Fri, Oct 22, 99 at 14:44 The following apparently appeared recently on one of the newsgroups, rec.pets. It sounds pretty believable to me--though it's so funny, I'm not sure that I care. It's pretty long, but it's worth it. ---------------------

Anne V - 01:01pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1318 of 1332) Okay - I know how to take meat away from a dog. How do I take a dog away from meat? This is not, unfortunately, a joke.

AmyC - 01:02pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1319 of 1332) Um, can you give us a few more specifics here?

Anne V - 01:12pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1320 of 1332) They're inside of it. They crawled inside, and now I have a giant incredibly heavy piece of carcass in my yard, with 2 dogs inside of it, and they are NOT getting bored of it and coming out. One of them is snoring. I have company arriving in three hours, and my current plan is to 1. put up a tent over said carcass and 2. hang thousands of fly strips inside it. This has been going on since about 6:40 this morning.

AmyC - 01:19pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1321 of 1332) Oh. My. God. What sort of carcass is big enough to hold a couple of dogs inside? Given the situation, I'm afraid you're not going to be create enough of a diversion to get the dogs out of the carrion, unless they like greeting company as much as they like rolling around in dead stuff. Which seems unlikely. Can you turn a hose on the festivities?

Ase Innes-Ker - 01:31pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1322 of 1332) I'm sorry Anne. I know this is a problem (and it would have driven me crazy), but it is also incredibly funny.

Anne V - 01:31pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1323 of 1332) Elk. Elk are very big this year, because of the rain and good grazing and so forth. They aren't rolling. They are alternately napping and eating. They each have a ribcage. Other dogs are working on them from the outside. It's all way too primal in my yard right now. We tried the hose trick. At someone elses house, which is where they climbed in and began to refuse to come out. Many hours ago. I think that the hose mostly helps keep them cool and dislodges little moist snacks for them. hose failed. My new hope is that if they all continue to eat at this rate, they will be finished before the houseguests arrive. The very urban houseguests. Oh, god - I know it's funny. It's appalling, and funny, and completely entirely representative of life with dogs.

Kristen R. - 01:37pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1324 of 1332) I'm so glad I read this thread, dogless as I am. Dogs in elk. Dogs in elk.

Anne V - 01:41pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1325 of 1332) It's like that childrens book out there - dogs in elk, dogs on elk, dogs around elk, dogs outside elk. And there is some elk inside of, as well as on, each dog at this point.

Elizabeth K - 01:57pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1328 of 1333) Anne, aren't you in Arizona or Nevada? There are elk there? I'm so confused! We definately need to see pics of Gus Pong and Jake in the elk carcass.

Anne V - 02:03pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1329 of 1333) I am in New Mexico, but there are elk in both arizona and nevada, yes. There are elk all over the da*n place. They don't look out very often. If you stand the ribcage on end they scramble to the top and look out, all red. Otherwise, you kinda have to get in there a little bit yourself to really see them. So I think there will not be pictures.

CoseyMo - 02:06pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1330 of 1333) "all red;" I'm not sure the deeper horror of all this was fully borne in upon me till I saw that little phrase.

Anne V - 02:10pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1331 of 1333) Well, you know, the Basenji (that would be Jake) is a desert dog, naturally, and infamous for it's aversion to water. And then, Gus Pong (who is coming to us, live, unamplified and with a terrific reverb which is making me a little dizzy) really doesn't mind water, but hates to be cold. Or soapy. And both of them can really run. Sprints of up to 35 mph have been clocked. So. If ever they come out, catching them and returning them to a condition where they can be considered house pets is not going to be, shall we say, pleasant.

CoseyMo - 02:15pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1332 of 1333) What if you stand the ribcage on end, wait for them to look out, grab them when they do and pull?

Anne V - 02:18pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1333 of 1333) They wedge their toes between the ribs. And scream. We tried that before we brought the elk home from the mountain with dogs inside. Jake nearly took my friends arm off. He's already short a toe, so he cherishes the 15 that remain.

Linda Hewitt - 02:30pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1336 of 1356) Have you thought about calling your friendly vet and paying him to come pick up the dogs, elk and letting the dogs stay at the vets overnight. If anyone would know what to do, it would be your vet. It might cost some money, but it would solve the immediate crisis. Keep us posted.

ChristiPeters - 02:37pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1337 of 1356) Yikes! My sympathy! When I lived in New Mexico, my best friend's dog (the escape artist) was continually bringing home road kill. When there was no road kill convenient, he would visit the neighbor's house. Said neighbor slaughtered his own beef. The dog found all kinds of impossibly gross toys in the neighbor's trash pit. I have always had medium to large dogs. The smallest dog I ever had was a mutt from the SPCA who matured out at just above knee high and about 55 pounds. Our current dog (daughter's choice) is a Pomeranian. A very small Pomeranian. She's 8 months old now and not quite 4 pounds. I'm afraid I'll break her.

Lori Shiraishi - 02:38pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1338 of 1356) Bet you could fit a whole lot of Pomeranians in that there elk carcass! Anne - my condolences on what must be an unbelievable situation!

Anne V - 02:44pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1339 of 1356) I did call my vet. He laughed until he was gagging and breathless. He says a lot of things, which can be summed as *what did you expect?* and *no, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog.* He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home. Thanks, Lori. I am almost surrendered to the absurdity of it.

Lori Shiraishi - 02:49pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1340 of 1356) "He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home." So he can fall down laughing in person?

Anne V - 02:50pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1341 of 1356) Basically, yeah. That would be about it.

AmyC - 02:56pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1342 of 1356) No, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog." Oh, sweet lo*d, Anne. You have my deepest sympathies in this, perhaps the most peculiar of the Gus Pong Adventures. You are truly a woman of superhuman patience. wait -- you carried the carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside?

Anne V - 02:59pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1343 of 1356) The carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside? no, well, sort of. My part in the whole thing was to get really stressed about a meeting that I had to go to, and say *yeah, ok, whatever* when it was suggested that the ribcages, since we couldn't get the dogs out of them and the dogs couldn't be left there, be brought to my house. Because, you know - I just thought they would get bored of it sooner or later. But it appears to be later, in the misty uncertain future, that they will get bored. Now, they are still interested. And very loud, one singing, one snoring.

Lori Shiraishi - 03:04pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1344 of 1356) And very loud, one singing, one snoring. wow. I can't even begin to imagine the acoustics involved with singing from the inside of an elk.

Anne V - 03:04pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1345 of 1356) reverb. lots and lots of reverb.

Anne V - 03:15pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1347 of 1356) I'll tell you the thing that is causing me to lose it again and again, and then I have to go back outside and stay there for a while. After the meeting, I said to my (extraordinary) boss, "look, I've gotta go home for the rest of the day, I think. Jake and Gus Pong are inside some elk ribcages, and my dad is coming tonight, so I've got to get them out somehow." And he said, pale and huge-eyed, "Annie, how did you explain the elk to the clients?" The poor, poor man thought I had the carcasses brought to work with me. For some reason, I find this deeply funny. (weekend pause)

Anne V - 08:37am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1395 of 1405) So what we did was put the ribcages (containing dogs) on tarps and drag them around to the side yard, where I figured they would at least be harder to see, and then opened my bedroom window so that the dogs could let me know when they were ready to be plunged into a de-elking solution and let in the house. Then I went to the airport. Came home, no visible elk, no visible dogs. Peeked around the shrubs, and there they were, still in the elk. By this time, they had gnawed out some little portholes between some of the ribs, and you got the occasional very frightening glimpse of something moving around in there if you watched long enough. After a lot of agonizing, I went to bed. I closed the back door, made sure my window was open, talked to the dogs out of it until I as sure they knew it was open, and then I fell asleep. Sometimes, sleep is a mistake, no matter how tired you are. And especially if you are very very tired, and some of your dogs are outside, inside some elks. Because when you are that tired, you sleep through bumping kind of noises, or you kind of think that it's just the house guests. It wasn't the house guests. It was my dogs, having an attack of teamwork unprecedented in our domestic history. When I finally woke all the way up, it was to a horrible vision. Somehow, 3 dogs with a combined weight of about 90 pounds, managed to hoist one of the ribcages (the meatier one, of course) up 3 feet to rest on top of the swamp cooler outside the window, and push out the screen. What woke me was Gus Pong, howling in frustration from inside the ribcage, very close to my head, combined with feverish little grunts from Jake, who was standing on the nightstand, bracing himself against the curtains with remarkably bloody little feet. Here are some things I have learned, this Rosh Hashanah weekend: 1. almond milk removes elk blood from curtains and pillowcases, 2. We can all exercise superhuman strength when it comes to getting elk carcasses out of our yard, 3. The sight of elk ribcages hurtling over the fence really frightens the nice deputy sheriff who lives across the street, and 4. the dogs can pop the screens out of the windows, without damaging them, from either side.

Anne V - 09:58am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1401 of 1405) What I am is really grateful that they didn't actually get the damn thing in the window, which is clearly the direction they were going in. And that the nice deputy didn't arrest me for terrifying her with elk parts before dawn.

AmyC - 09:59am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1402 of 1405) Imagine waking up with a gnawed elk carcass in your bed, like a real-life "Godfather" with an all-dog cast.

Anne V - 10:01am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1403 of 1405) There is not enough almond milk in the world to solve an event of that kind.

#DOGS IN ELK #my posts #Dogs #Funny dogs #New Guinea Singing Dog #Basenji #Elk

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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SFW Alphabet - Eddison Tollett

this is an edd appreciation blog tyvm. this alphabet was a request!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He shows his affection in little ways as you two go about your duties. He'll rest a hand on your back to steady you as you balance a box full of vegetables or fix your cloak when he notices it’s tied improperly. In public, he sits closer to you, enough for you to enjoy his presence and not look suspicious in front of the rest of the Watch.

When you both are alone, Edd just likes to pull you in a loose embrace and give you kisses here and there while you talk. It’s so affectionate and endearing, and you want to tease him so bad, especially since he’s usually so dour during the day. But you leave it alone because you know he’s making up for lost time, and he dislikes being unable to show affection whenever he wants.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You noticed that for all his complaining, Edd truly pays attention to his friend’s moods and feelings. He could tell you all sorts of things about each member of the Night’s Watch, even the ones he dislikes (maybe especially them) and he has a knack for spotting people’s talents. He figured out you were a girl rather quickly - “for one thing, you’re too pretty and you don’t smell half as bad” - and rather than go spilling your secret, he made a point to protect it. If Edd felt someone was getting too suspicious about your identity, he’d redirect their attention or jape about their poor eyesight. He said you were silly for talking to him so much, but he’d let you keep him company and help him work all the same.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He gets red in the face when you bring it up, but yes, Edd is definitely a cuddle bug. Even if it’s just casually draping an arm around you while you both chat, he likes being close. When you get a chance to be more intimate, he’d rather you not leave his embrace at all, claiming you’d surely freeze to death if he let go… Well, the warmth is a bonus. If he’s feeling tired, he’ll rest his head against your back or on your shoulder and close his eyes while he listens to you talk.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Edd never thought too hard on “settling down” in his youth, mostly because his family was so poor, he couldn’t imagine a bride wanting to marry into it. Then he joined the Night’s Watch, and he thought of it even less. It just had to be his luck that he happened to find a lovely girl, here of all places, and she was responsible for dragging such thoughts out of him. Sometimes his mind would wander and think about what it would be like if you both weren’t in the Watch and were a “normal” couple, getting married and having a house and whatever other normal things were supposed to happen. They weren’t things to dwell on, because his rational side would take over and insist it didn’t matter, because it didn’t. Still, thinking of you in a wedding dress was a pleasant way to pass the time.

Edd is a fair enough cook, but he’s no better or worse than most of the men on the Wall. At least he knows how to cut vegetables properly now; you gave him an earful for the way he was mutilating a potato and showed him the right way. Hygiene is another matter, since keeping clean on the Wall is a luxury, but he does what he can since being dirty actually bothers him a bit.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d be terrible at such a thing, wondering if he should just avoid the person until they’re sick of him or just be forthcoming and end it bluntly. He’d end up doing the latter, trying to use as little emotion as possible despite feeling horrible and shitty inside.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Putting aside the fact there are no other women on the Night’s Watch (that he knows of; what woman would want to be here anyway?), he is a very committed person in a relationship. It takes him a long time to feel romantic interest anyway, so once he’s with someone, it would take a lot to leave them. Marriage is not an option to him, and it’s not like he was the sort of person to go courting. His family is on the lowest rung of nobility.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

While Edd has a morbid sense of humor and a fine dose of cynicism, he would never intentionally try to hurt your feelings. If anything, he’s always glad to get a smile out of you, especially when he wasn’t even trying to. He’s good about noticing when you might be feeling upset and his usual quips wouldn’t be appreciated, and in those moments he just pulls you close and asks what’s wrong. He’s similarly gentle with the way he holds and kisses you; he just doesn’t like the idea of being too rough.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

As mentioned before, Edd is all about the hugs, grumpy as he is. He loves it when you initiate them, he loves hugging you from behind and pretending to be dead weight when you hug back, he loves it when you’re tired and you start falling asleep in his arms. Because of all the layers of cloaks and wool, you both squeeze harder than normal just to feel extra snuggly, but when you’re in bed his grip isn’t so tight. You can tell when he’s feeling particularly affection deprived because he’ll hold longer than usual and lean on you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He felt it so quickly that it embarrassed him, so Edd held off on outwardly saying anything for a while. His actions and affection made it obvious to you, however, and you knew he’d say it back if you told him. It happened when you were snuggled in his arms and peppering him with kisses before he had to patrol the Wall for the night. It was such a damned cute send-off to a duty he wasn’t looking forward to, he just blurted it out.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Edd has never been a jealous sort, and it’s still true at the Wall because only he, Sam and Jon know you’re actually a woman. Even when Jon and Sam blush as you’re being sweet, he trusts all of you (and figures they’re just the sort to be dorks around pretty girls no matter what).

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Edd claims he can’t stand them, what with their sticky fingers and snotty noses. His siblings and cousins were enough, he’d continue, his parents went through enough. But you’d notice whenever very young boys would come to the Wall, looking fearful and out of place, Edd would speak a little kinder and make sure they had warm clothes and some extra food. You’d tease him about it and he'd just shrug. "Just 'cause I don't want some boy's blood freezin' in his veins, doesn't mean I'd be any kinda good father."

On the other hand, he loves watching you interact with the younger recruits. You’re one of the more open and friendly “brothers” to the Night’s Watch, and several of them tend to follow you around and await your orders. Edd calls them your ducklings and says your secret will be found out because they won’t stop flocking to you. He thinks it’s adorable how you’re so proud about their improvement, especially since most of these boys were lucky to have one parent who might have cared. As if the wedding dress daydreams weren’t bad enough, now he’d start thinking about what a great mother you’d be.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

It’s a rare occasion when you can sneak him into your small, cramped room that doubles as the shabby library, but it’s a private little sanctuary you both can share. He’s a light sleeper in general, but he doesn’t mind waking up to you resting against him. He’s pretty sure he’ll never get tired of it, saccharine as that is to admit to himself. For your part, you can help but feel a little flustered as he gives you several light kisses and touches while you dress.

The mornings you aren’t together are the usual ones. He sits besides you in the mess hall and you both chat with the others while nudging each other under the table. Jon always seems to know when it’s happening and gives A Look.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Depending on the duties given to you during the day, and how fast you finish them, sometimes you and Edd are able to steal away after dinner. It can be anywhere from fifteen minutes to a whole hour, but every minute is precious. Of course you may take the chance to be intimate, but often you’re just sitting close and talking, like a normal couple might. As much as Edd claims he isn’t one for conversation, the two of you never struggle for things to talk about.

Nights you spend together are always special, but funnily enough, you spend them trying to be “normal”. You’ll help each other out of your half-dozen layers, wash up, then spend time cuddling and talking and being intimate by the hearth. Sometimes you’ll even joke about the farm that needs tending to in the morning, or what the neighbors have been up to. It’s a nice reprieve from the usual day-to-day of the Wall.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Edd talks about himself a lot, you just need to listen and parse what’s true and what’s him being his usual sardonic self. You noticed for every three things he exaggerates or dismisses, one is true. Asking him directly is fun because he always has to spin it into a rambling story, then finish with some cynical jape. He pretends not to know why you giggle when he’s done.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Life at the Wall has prepared him for a lot of shit, so anger doesn’t come easily to Edd. It’s usually melancholy or defeat first. The closest he gets is exasperation with you and mild annoyance with Sam and Jon.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers quite a lot about you, half because you’re the most important person he’s had in his life, and half is just from his naturally good memory. You forget how good it is because he won’t often bring things up, but then out of nowhere he’ll mention a story you told him months ago. Sometimes Edd recalls things you don’t remember telling him about.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Most people might pick a first kiss or the first night spent together, but Edd is fond of when he found out you were a girl and said it to your face. The way you blushed and tried to deny it was actually adorable - maybe that was the start of his crush. Your friendship also started after that, something he cherishes even now, so he’s actually glad that he didn’t keep quiet and mind his business.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Edd isn’t an overtly protective sort, but you’re aware anytime he redirects someone’s attention away from you when they suspect something, or how he’ll slip you extra food and make sure your clothes are patched. Even if you’re capable of doing these things himself, it gives him peace of mind to know your identity is safe and you're as comfortable as one can be in the Watch. He’s already jokingly thanked you for laying low, because he’d hate to duel for your honor with his shit swordplay.

He’s very appreciative if you do the same little things for him, and he always notices, even if he doesn’t say anything at the moment. The fact you listen to his worries and always have a warm embrace ready drains away much of his fatigue.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s tricky to keep track of such things on the Wall. Edd has mentioned that he’s forgotten his name day several times, and sometimes the days start to run together when you get lost in your duties. So instead of any grand anniversaries, you two like to pay extra attention to the few evenings you get to steal away. You’re able to get some extra ale from the kitchens or he whittles something cute for you, that sort of thing. If you two have even a few minutes of alone time in the day, you don’t waste it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has his nickname for a reason. You notice that Edd can fall into depressive moods and more cynical lines of thought. While he tries to keep the worst of it from you when you’re together, you notice when something isn’t sitting right with him, and he isn’t always eager to tell you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Edd doesn’t care either way, there’s not too much he can immediately fix, after all. He appreciates your compliments anyway, and he secretly really likes it when you tidy his hair or brush dirt off his cloak.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

His depression would slip into something much worse and more noticeable, even to those who don’t know him well. He wouldn’t be afraid to admit to Jon and Sam that he felt like shit without you. There wouldn’t be tears, just a lot of emptiness and apathy. He’d start to care much less about the value of his life. If something terrible had happened to you and you were gone forever, he’d never discuss you again, even to his friends.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He loves watching you talk about something you love, even better if you’re telling a story. You’d recall all sorts of things about your childhood mare or mischievous siblings. The best is when you recounted a story, either something your nan told you or from one of the dozens of books you read. Edd wasn’t terribly good with his letters, and there weren’t books available to him as a child, anyway.

Since you were assigned to the library, you spend hours digging through the old shelves to find something interesting to tell him about. You’d even sneak a book or two back to your quarters and read them to Edd once you two were curled up. He wasn’t too eager in learning to read better - listening to you and idly kissing your neck and ears just to trip you up was more fun.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He has little to no patience for willful ignorance and innocent stupidity in any person, and he’ll avoid them when he can. A more personal peeve is anyone trying to get more emotion out of his calm and dour nature. He just isn’t one to show outward, overwrought feelings.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Edd’s a light and restless sleeper, prone to waking up and not being able to get back to bed. When you’re dozing beside him, he finds it easier to go back to sleep by listening to your breathing and stroking your skin. It takes at least two hours for him to be fully awake. Most people can’t tell the difference between sleepy Edd and normal Edd; you know he’s quieter and more prone to sighing tiredly.

#eddison tollett #dolorous edd #sfw alphabet #game of thrones #eddison tollett x reader #dolorous edd x reader

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eutaerpe · 5 years

Text

the kim social test

pairing — jungkook x reader

word count — 15.4k

genre/warnings— fluff, friends to lovers au. domestic!jungkook, jungkook in a towel, kissing, mentions of sex. and they were roommates! trope, namjoon is attractive (even though we all knew this), mentions of drinking because Taehyung creates the Kim Social Test while drunk and Jimin prompts to get wasted maybe more than once. who knows. rom com undertones?

summary — “I’m moving out.” These are the first words Jungkook hears on a fatal Thursday morning, hands holding onto the kitchen counter. A mixed feeling paints his expression. “I know we haven’t talked about this, but I think we both know that it’s the right thing to do. I can’t stay here anymore.”

alternatively, “it takes more than five exhibits for you to prove that Jungkook is a zero, according to the Kim Social Test”.

notes — i accidentally started writing this in first person. 3k words into the story i realized my mistake lmao i thought about changing it, but it would have affected the writing style of TKST which was supposed to be a short thing about jungkook and the reader shy panicking, moving in together, becoming friends and guk eventually getting a blowjob. life really be like that sometimes, huh? anyway i hope you all don’t mind because tkst is my baby ♥︎ it might be flawed and i, for myself, can already see space for improvement. reading my a smoking party draft, i can see how much i’ve improved. this style is something fresh and new for me lol i’m so excited to share something i’ve worked on since january. let me know what you think ♥︎

THE KIM SOCIAL TEST

(or “it takes three attempts to realize that Taehyung can be, indeed, right too”)

“I’m moving out”

These are the first words Jungkook hears on a fatal Thursday morning, hands holding onto the kitchen counter.

A mixed feeling paints his expression.

“I know we haven’t talked about this, but I think we both know that it’s the right thing to do,” I add, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“So, you’re moving out. Definitely,” he ruffs his own hair, voice steady and low, his typical morning voice. Even though it seems like he’d like to add more — start asking questions, clear any doubt — I interrupt him, trying to sound as firm as possible.

“Absolutely,” then he nods, slowly, “I’m moving out.”

HYPOTESYS: JUNGKOOK IS A ONE

— 6 months earlier —

It starts like this.

“I’m moving out,” I declare, as Jimin opens a bottle of beer. “Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”

Taehyung beams, excited, “Y/N! That’s amazing!” - he engulfs me in a friendly hug, laughing openly - “With this short notice? Fucking fantastic. Where are you going to stay, then?”

I see Jimin filling our glasses, a satisfied smile on his lips, too.

I can’t help but sigh at the sight. Things are going to run smoothly from now on. I can feel it. All according to my plan, nevertheless. God knows how much I wanted that job - (“Hello, Namjoon! Yes, it’s still me, any news on the… yes, I know, trust me, I know it’s only been a couple days, yes, they usually take a week or two to choose the interns, let alone the newcomers… That can do! What’s four, five more days? I can wait for weeks. It’s not like I have a place on the line. Or my whole life. Mhm. Yeah. Yes,” smiling sardonically, I start tapping my fingers on the desk, “Always a sweetheart. Thank you again, Namjoon!”) - wanted out of that small, reeking apartment I had, up until yesterday, to share with two guys I hope I’ll never meet again in my life (as Jimin once said, get wasted with me and you’ll forget them. As Taehyung once replied, have sex with me and you’ll even forget your own name. I agreed to the first reasonable proposal, but apparently even getting drunk with Jimin doesn’t help. Especially if, after the second Negroni, sometime before sipping from the glass Jager, you stop thinking clearly and end up at your place with a heavy Jimin partially covering your figure. Ergo, we went home. We woke up with a terrible headache just as my I’d-rather-forget roommate greeted us, more than partially naked, definitely wasted, absolutely stenching).

“I-uh, I think you know the guy? At least, mentioned him a couple of times over the years? Jeon Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, tongue wetting the upper lip. “The Jeon Jungkook?”

“Roommate of Min Yoongi? The one and only?”

“Yeah, he’s leaving for an internship abroad he didn’t think would win, so he left Jungkook with such a short notice he had to actually go look for someone to pay half the rent with,” I explain, “What’s up with the tone, though? He seemed nice. Over the phone he almost sounded shy. And I’m the one saying he seemed shy. I couldn’t talk to any of you for the first weeks of high school even though we walked the same way home and had known each other for years. Me!”

“The chances of Jungkook being shy are the same as me being a virgin,” Jimin explains, rolling his eyes.

I furrow my forehead. Things don’t add up. “I don’t believe you,” My purple haired friend drops dramatically his head on his hands, “Not the virgin part, I know you won’t tell me whom you had your first time with, which, by the way, rude, but I’m pretty sure there has been one to begin with— “

“Trust me, there’s been even more than one with that same person.”

“Taehyung, gross,” I exclaim, “Not the point. I’m not interested in your sexual life— “

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Tae shrugs. Jimin groans. I close my eyes, red staining my cheeks—See? Shy! I told them. I’m the shy one. And I can sense a shy one around me. Jungkook gives off this… timid vibe. I’m sure of it, I can’t be wrong, for God’s sake.

“I don’t believe you, at all. Twenty bucks says the guy’s a timid, socially awkward introvert too nervous to muster up the courage to even talk to me.”

They look at me in disbelief. I can’t believe them. I have good instincts. They know it, too. So what? They mentioned the guy a few times over the years. It’s inevitable—they’re friendly, outgoing, extroverts. They know people. They inevitably bump into people when they’re out partying and going to class and joining groups and going to the gym.

Apparently, there are people who can juggle between three different activities while at college. Activities that don’t include showing up to classes, calling your mother at least once a week, and searching for a job. Duh. Who knew?

People nowadays judge before getting to know others. It’s something millennials and elders have in common, every now and then.

Plus, rumours are worse than the Black Plague. You wake up and tell a friend you feel this is your lucky day, then it turns out people say you got up flexing on how you got lucky. And you had your walk of shame. While sore. And naked. Because in this fucked-up scenario, you’re born confident in your own body. And your walk of shame is very valid, even though it’s in your own house. (Read: this is a fucked-up scenario) Gasp! How rumours fly. How much stories are accurately changed and automatically deterred with a simple misunderstanding.

It’s 2019, for Christ’s sake. Give the kid the benefit of the doubt.

“Agreed,” Jimin says, a smug grin on his lips, right before Taehyung shakes my hand, smirking openly.

EXHIBIT A

Okay, so. In hindsight, it’s 2019. Never trust first impressions. Or your superb instincts.

Jungkook? Older than me. Just slightly, however. Bigger than me. Bulkier than what I imagined him to be. Sure, he had a sweet voice but what’s the point, huh, when you’re almost six feet tall and as intimidating as Jimin when he’s dancing? Or Tae when he plays the piano?

“I call bullshit, what the fuck,” I hiss, holding onto my phone, “You agreed to this even after I told you ‘I can’t believe you, you’re fucking making this up’?”

“Especially after that,” Tae sighs, and I want to punch him, “I can’t say no to free money. Well, fairly earned money.”

“Where’s fairness in all this? You let me move in. With a guy. That is—how can I say this?”

“Hot? Very fuckboy-ish?”

I refrain myself from answering. What have I gotten myself into? So much for things finally running smoothly.

“Very Not Shy,”

“Oh, what a curious phrasing. Have you talked to him yet? Or better—proved my Kim Social Test right?”

The Kim Social Test – also widely known among your friends as the infamous Kim Taehyung’s third attempt to be right – is something he made up while tipsy (because he can’t possibly hold his liquors, although one would never hear this coming out from Taehyung’s own mouth), frowning and frustrated. It’s more like an investigation of all sorts aimed to prove one’s social skills, ranking from one, id est a nice, cute introvert who, given the chance, will surprise you, to twenty-three, as in the years Tae and Jimin had known each other when Tae made this test up. Not that I’ll ever admit it to him, but I suppose there’s partial truth somewhere in between all those steps, fuelled by the dark-haired friend of mine’s interest in psychology, reverse psychology, communication, and his instincts.

Step one: talk to the person in question.

Step one failed.

Unless Jungkook’s the one trying to test the KST on me.

“What I’m trying to say,” I begin, unsure, “Is that he smiled. Offered to help with my things. Explained how things work here – anything from the absurd no dating slash no couples! policy, to how to deal with neighbours. Turns out that the landlord is staying on the floor below ours, while the landlord’s son in on the floor above. But I’m digressing,” Taehyung snorts, the great friend, “He was being nice—borderline over friendly, then said not to mind his absence, every now and then, because he needs to de-stress, if I know what he means, and I’m always free to try his car with, uh, him, if I know what he means.”

“So, your paranoid ass is trying to tell me he hit on you twice?”

“I’m finally out of that squalid place even you promptly detested and I knock into this splendid flat – you should see how neat and spacious it is – only for it to be inhabited by some horny guy who’s keen on getting laid. Tell me how I should feel, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stays silent for a hot second, slightly worrying me that he hung up on me.

“I’ll tell you what,” – the best friend suggests, while I start twisting my ring – “Jiminie and I are coming over this evening. He’ll see us, he’ll understand, he’ll back off. In this precise order. You in?”

“Roger that, captain.”

This prompts Taehyung’s laugh, loud and dazzling, the comforting noise filling my ears.

EXHIBIT B

Step one: talk to the person in question.

A month ago, this mere action would have terrified me. Which is a solemn hypocrite thing of me to think, now, because, as a matter of fact, it threw me off. Not one bit of me was safe and sound, after I non-talked to Jungkook when I moved in. I didn’t think I’d ever muster up the courage to converse to him—maybe just to politely decline his feeble and frantic advance.

(“Fuck, you’re so dramatic,” were Jimin’s first words when I opened the door that night. Maybe so, Park.)

However, I was substantially right. I soon realized that maybe my roommate – twenty-two, almost 6 feet tall, shows a playful tendency to wear only commonly dark clothes – really is shy. After Jimin and Taehyung came over, that very same day, he turned into a mess, avoiding altogether eye contact with me, backing away even when my friends – not anymore concerned – offered him dinner.

A spur of bravado, we agreed later on that day. Known that – understanding that maybe he was just as excited and terrified about the new intruder as I was—made us magically forget altogether about that small… incident. About the awkward spur of bravado, I mean.

“Tough Tuesday shift?”

Jungkook is spread on the couch, his long form lost among all the cushions. He’s holding what I assume are papers he needs to grade, several of them scattered on the coffee table before a mug of tea and three red pens. Being an assistant teacher suits him, in a way. He’s tidy, neat, precise – I’ll never stop repeating this sudden realization in my mind. He revealed, on a late night, the movie long forgotten, that doing the laundry calms his nerves. Can’t quite believe that this is the same person who implied he needed sex to relax.

“Let’s say Namjoon doesn’t forget easily,” I try to joke as he grins warmly, adjusting on the couch so that he faces me more comfortably. He studies me as I take off my coat, his inquiring gaze following every move I make – including me staring back at him.

“Seokjin-hyung came by, an hour ago or so,” he announces, passing a hand on the dark grey sweater hugging his torso, “Left something he prepared because he’s convinced I can’t cook. The very same person who taught me how to properly feed myself—can you believe it?”

Although his tone is teasing, tainted by almost pure disbelief, he keeps on grinning. I chuckle. “Yeah, how rich of him.”

“If you’re not planning anything, we could have real dinner together. Finish Haikyuu!’s third season on the couch. We could even just complain about your boss, really. If you’re up for it, I mean,” he rubs the nape of his neck, discarding on the coffee table the papers that moments ago he was holding.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’s his very own person, discreet, kind, nonetheless quiet. He does things a lazy eye wouldn’t even notice; someone uncaring would not bat their eyes at his deep, silent actions that speak more than words could ever. It’s more than just wearing his heart on his sleeve – it’s caring and being attentive not just because sometimes it’s convenient or it casually happens. There’s meaning beside his every action, led by his desire to truly be helpful. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s really not the person people make him out to be, and I mentally scoff at Tae and Jimin’s antics when I said ‘Jeon Jungkook?’ and they had answered with ‘The Jeon Jungkook?’, staining his… persona. His kind soul.

I hum, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, it sounds amazing. I’d like that.”

His bunny smile makes a bashful appearance.

***

Step two: pay attention to the body language. Spot the differences between how the person in question talks and acts.

The first time I hear about Mina it’s on a Wednesday afternoon, and Jungkook’s not home.

Following Namjoon around for the entire day meant that the smart, charming new leader of the Publishing Department – a promotion he got a few days after I became his colleague – got, at the same time, amused by my… consistency and tired of having me as his new shadow.

He, of course, understands what it means to be new, fresh out of college and passionate about my new job and has tried, for the past few days, to challenge my abilities – perhaps soon, yes, but the glint in Namjoon’s dark eyes tells me that he sees in me the same young guy he was himself, not even a long time ago. Hence the try-doing-this-on-your-own with its thrilling sequel I’ll-be-here-when-you’re-done he’s thrown on me lately.

Which is a nice way of saying you’ve become bearable but as the new leader I’ve got more work on my hands, so I can’t guide you through this new world slash don’t make me regret trusting you. I swear, this man has a way with words Hemingway could never.

Anyway, this explains why I’m working on this novel – the debut work of a young writer Namjoon firmly believes in – in our living room, laptop on my thighs and manuscript in my hands. On a Wednesday afternoon. Alone. Because Jungkook’s Wednesdays are, in this order, full of assholes actual-professors that expect the most from him, gym, kick boxing with Yugyeom, and finally coming back home to hit the shower and fucking rest.

Apparently, however, Yoongi isn’t aware of his former roommate’s schedule, because he’s Skype-calling him, in this very moment. I’m not snooping into his stuff, not at all, it’s just that the last time they did this – having a video call like two adorable siblings – Jungkook used my laptop and forgot to log out. Which is a very good explanation for why Min Yoongi’s eyes are staring into mine.

“Y/N?”

“Hi,” I splutter, as surprised as he sounded. “Seems like Guk forgot to log out since you last talked.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, hands in his wet, mint hair. “Is he home? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, but the kid’s been avoiding all my calls.”

That doesn’t sound like Jungkook. Sure, he’s not winner of the year for the fastest replier ever existed, but in decent time – which can vary between two hours and two days – he gets the message (pun intended) and decides to grace his acquaintances with an answer. Or a call back.

“No—Wednesdays are usually the worst week-days for him,” as I explain, though, I can’t help but notice the deep sigh Yoongi exhales. Or the tiredness of his expression. “…but as soon as I see him, I can deliver a message for you, if you want? He’s gonna be tired, no joke, but I’ll make him call you back, I promise.”

The sympathetic smile he sends my way makes me want to punch my roommate. Which would probably hurt like hell, if the ungodly hours he spends at the gym are anything to go by.

Still: Min Yoongi being exhausted because of him is a good reason why I should at least try to hit him. Min Yoongi is Jimin’s… idol, famous in the music department with a deceiving reputation of being anything but sociable. Wrong, terribly wrong. He’s not. He’s a small loving and caring friend in the body of a small human. The amount of times he called to make sure Jungkook was okay is— truly admirable. (He even helped Jimin with a project of his, once. Hence the epithet of the one and only. I have a terrific theory of him being somehow linked to my Jimin, but no one has still dared to answer me. Jerks. Tae and him both.)

“Sure. Tell him his to talk to his girlfriend. I’m tired of having her blabbing no stop about how much of a jerk he’s turned into lately and disputing whether declining her calls means he’s cheating on her or a strategy of his that will end with Jungkook surprising her on their anniversary.”

Wait, what?

“Jungkook has a girlfriend? He’s in a… romantic relationship that doesn’t involve playing Overwatch with Taehyung on Friday nights?”

“You don’t know about Mina?”

“What the fuck is a Mina?”

He stills for a second. “I… I don’t understand. Are you shitting me?”

“I’m not. I know there’s a strict rule about not bringing your dates over and not fucking in this apartment, but I’ve never heard of her. He never mentioned her. I’ve never seen this girl, never even knew she existed before you told me.”

Yoongi begins scratching his forearms. He tilts his head, staring into the void of his room.

“What the fuck,” is the final summary of his train of thoughts. Yeah, what the hell. “I’m not sure I want to be part of this helping circle anymore. We always joked that Jungkook would turn out to be the reason why Jin-hyung will have grey hair, but I never imagined he’d be mine too. I swear, this kid.”

“I can still talk to him, though. This isn’t lying, not even sure if it counts as lying by omission but…” I shrug, “I don’t know. I’m wondering why he kept his mouth shut.”

Yoongi mutters something I can’t make out, then asks if I can still deliver the message and abruptly ends the conversation.

You live for a month with a guy and think you know him. It stings in a funny way knowing you don’t.

Jungkook finds me on the couch when he comes back home. He has tiredness written all over his face – his crinkled forehead, his sweaty appearance; I can sense it among the silent grunt and deep sighs he exhales thinking I’m not in the living room.

“Hey,” I pout, eyes on the manuscript.

My roommate turns around in a swift move, eyes wide open. “You still up?”

He’s tired. I know he’s tired. His velvet voice doesn’t betray his shape. I don’t buy it.

I hum, turning on the couch so that he can’t see my face, my eyes still on the novel. I can see him pausing and wondering what’s going on in the periphery of my sight.

“Yoongi wants to let you know you should stop ignoring him and your girlfriend so she can stop pestering him. Virtually hugs you and sends a thousand kisses, too.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but then I hear his footsteps and I see him in front of me, licking his lips, lost in his thoughts. His fingers move continuously on the bag he’s holding. As I focus my gaze on his face, I realise that what hurts more is that he didn’t trust me enough with this information rather than not fully knowing him, my roommate. It doesn’t concern this specific piece of information, per se, more the fact that he didn’t feel comfortable enough in sharing something that is supposed to make him cheerful and proud. Maybe I projected much, I don’t know? Just because you share a flat with someone it doesn’t mean he’s your friend.

“I didn’t mean to keep this a secret—I swear…” he trails off, and I bite back a laugh, delusion hitting me.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Jungkook. I’m not your mom and sure as fuck I’m not your confidant. I’m just your roommate. I’m sure it would have come up, if you had to sexile me because of her. Don’t worry,” I spit out, at once regretting my harshness, “I get it.”

“You don’t, though. You don’t know me,” he begins, following me when I get up.

“I know I don’t!”

“I don’t mean it that way, fuck! Y/N!” - he grabs my wrists, eyes darting into mine – “We’re… we’re just in a bad place right now. We needed a pause, I begged for it, but she didn’t want to, so I’m—uhm, choosing not to deal with her at the moment. We’re going through a lot,” he says, pondering his words, thumbs moving on my hands. I freeze at the contact.

“Yoongi doesn’t know. Because she’s mad at me for something that happened a long time ago when we weren’t together. And, fuck, I don’t want Yoongi to think about that time. I don’t want to think about that time. I didn’t think she’d pester him, shit”

The high-pitched laughter he lets out almost frightens me. Jungkook’s fidgeting look pushes me to intertwine our hands. I don’t have time for disbelief towards my own gesture—his former, floating discomfort strays gradually from his body as I do so.

I keep the eye contact with his doe eyes—it happens then. His breathing comes back to normal, his fingers grasp firmly mine. I’m here, I want to say.

I only manage a quiet: “It’s okay. It’s okay, Jungkook” that has him nodding, sure.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” he announces.

“Sure,” I breath out, “Listen. I know I’m not probably the person you’d want to have this conversation with… but if you don’t feel like bothering Yoongi – which you’re not. Unless you call him in the middle of the night – you can always talk to me. Count on me.”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his noise.

“Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“Of course not, you giant baby.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Wait for me?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

***

“Is there a way to turn sad stories into happy ones?”

My hands fall around the mug. “Have you always been this dramatic or did Yugyeom punch you so hard you’re not well functioning?”

He bites back a laugh. “We both know I’d need a stronger hook to lose consciousness, c’mon.”

“I don’t know,” I play pretend, “The other day Jin barely slapped you and you looked like you wanted to cry.”

“Hey!” his hot cocoa is long forgotten, “I’ll have you know he’s older than me—”

“Oh, so now age matters?”

“—and has been playing kick-boxing for a lot longer than I have. Obviously, he knows what he’s doing!”

“It was just a friendly slap!”

He scoffs, still smiling.

“You know, when Yoongi called he asked me if I knew about Mina and I answered, ‘what the fuck is a Mina?’ which, in hindsight, it’s not a very kind thing to ask.”

Jungkook bursts into a quiet laugh, back against the wall. Maybe being on the carpet isn’t a suiting position to have a talk—about serious matters, too. But Jungkook’s comfortable, and as long as he is, I really don’t care.

It was weird seeing him, even if just for a fraction of a second, losing control.

Maybe he needs a friend more than he knows.

“I met Mina a long time ago. Sophomore year, maybe? I had been dating Sowon for two years then—Sowon and I met in high school, she was my first girlfriend. A bit older than me. When I got into college, we started fighting for the most meaningless things, though. For the last months, ours was an on and off relationship. We broke up and made up all the time; it was actually a relief when we broke up for good. That somehow changed me. I dreaded for anything but a relationship. Jin-hyung likes to say that I turned up to be a handsome fuckboy,” he laughs, staring into the mug, “Yoongi-hyung says it was terrible having me around. I was always off to parties and spent most of my nights in girls’ sororities. I’m not exactly proud of that period. Sowon had disappeared from life by then. I only saw her once again, when she found out I had been sleeping around. I don’t know, she got mad. Really mad. Tried to fuck Yoongi-hyung to get back at me.”

“That’s…” Jungkook looks at me, lips parted. I find out I don’t have it in me to continue my sentence.

“Not ideal, huh?”

“Far from ideal.”

“The hyungs helped a lot, back then. Mina, too. She was one of the girls I had been hooking up with. I can’t say what exactly changed in our relationship, or what she did to make me realize I didn’t want to be careless anymore. One day I started looking at her differently and…” he shrugs, “The rest is history.”

“Damn, and I thought for a solid second that my relationships of five months were a huge fucking goal.” He snickers. “How long have you two been together, then?”

“Two years? No, wait. Almost two years and a half. But lately she’s been hinting that she wants more. Her parents got married very young, and so did her sister. I think she kind of expected me to pop the question, half a year ago. But I haven’t. Which made her think I was cheating on her. Which I’m not. She thinks I’m twenty years old Jungkook all over again. Which, for the third time, I’m not.” He huffs. “I don’t know how to make her understand that we’re young and there’s so much we could be doing rather than worrying about getting married. Christ, I’m twenty-two. I’m barely studying for my master’s degree. She thinks I don’t love her, and it makes me so fucking mad. I begged for a pause. We need some time apart.”

“But you said she refused. Hence why you’re avoiding her.”

“Yeah.” He finishes his hot cocoa off. “Do you think I’m insane for wanting to distance myself for a while?”

“No, I don’t. It may sound cliché, but people who love each other don’t always see eye to eye. They change. Long term relationships require many compromises, and sometimes it’s hard to do that.” I throw my head back against the wall. Jungkook follows my movements with his gaze. “Sometimes you fall out of love, too. Things… happen. People change. There isn’t always a valid reason why. I think that recognizing change is brave. Forcing things to never shift it’s dangerous.”

A peaceful silence falls between our bodies. I can’t help but realize it’s very late. I sneak a look at Jungkook, who’s looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed. I’m glad he decided to trust me.

“You know, for being so short you’ve got an insane amount of wisdom inside of you.”

“Fuck off, Jeon”

He deserves every pillow I’ve thrown him.

EXHIBIT C

“And you expect me to say he’s not a jerk?”

“Well,” Lisa breathes out, downhearted. “I don’t think he knows the very meaning of kindness.”

As an ungainly rustle of papers fills my ears, she exhales, turning to Yuna, a scorn adorning her face.

“Look, have you seen the guy? He’s got a promotion and boom!, there he goes thinking he’s better than all of us combined. Don’t let him get to you, girl. He probably thinks that a discussion on the oxford comma is first date material. Fuck,” she then smiles, a curve void of sympathy, “The guy probably thinks he’s too good for a date. Do you recall the last time he looked as if he fucked someone’s brain out?” Yuna doesn’t answer, instead she opts for smoothing her shirt and Lisa smirks, proud. “My point exactly. He’s a poor jerk. Leave him be.”

It’s not considered eavesdropping if they’re sniping about Namjoon out in the open, right? I’m thrown aback for a solid minute, because, yes, Namjoon is a lot, a deeply wholesome and complex guy to have as your boss, but he’s not that bad. Sure, he has his moments – like any of us has – yet he’s attentive, caring, a tall mentor I’m delighted to have around.

Not to mention the fact that he’s attractive. It’s undeniable. He’s charming because he extrudes confidence when he arguments whilst gesticulating, when he talks back and smiles sharply, when his ideas are picked because original, fresh, on the spot. He trusts and gives, in a manner that can swipe anyone off their feet when adorned with his dimples.

Namjoon’s an attractive man, period.

I frown.

I plop on my chair, coffee in my mug.

Oh my God. Namjoon’s attractive. He’s hot. He’s smart. He’s sarcastic. His humour amazes me first thing in the morning when he hasn’t had his shots of coffee yet and has to talk to people.

Stop, Y/N. Okay, so what? He can be nice to have around. I’m at loss of words – thoughts – when a picture of Namjoon wearing slacks and a white shirt pops in my mind. White shirts fit him so well it’s unreal. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey, Y/N,” a voice startles me and, as my eyes widen, I turn towards the person in question, “Mind helping me with these?”

Namjoon – fit Namjoon, Kim I’m-wearing-beautiful-glasses Namjoon - points to papers a now hidden part of me I know she recognizes, and I find myself nodding like an idiot before I can even think of an eligible answer.

Think of unattractive people. People you’re not attracted to. People you would mind undressing you. Touching you. Hugging you. Think of…Jungkook.

Jungkook isn’t… my type. He’s warm, he’s soft with his bunny smile and happy eyes. He wears dark t-shirts on a daily basis. He snorts when his students write absurdities others would cry for. He once tried to inhale six packs of ramen just because Taehyung dared him to. I mentally chuckle at the memory. Think of Jungkook, I repeat to myself. The same Jungkook that swears when playing Overwatch. The same Jungkook that pouts when he studies and frowns as he focuses so hard.

Jungkook would never slam his partner against the door, hands in their hair. He’d never command them to go down on their knees before him. He’s only been in long term relationships. The guy’s probably not even a fan of PDA.

Jungkook is soft around the edges, and shy and cute and definitely someone I’m not attracted to.

“Sure,” I breathe out, a smile tugging at my lips, “Let me see.”

“So,” Jimin begins in a quiet whisper that has me wondering why he can’t speak out loud, “You want to bone your boss.”

I mentally scold the office policy and its daunting, cryptic suggestion to keep a semi-formal appearance. Which translates into high heels. I have to wear high heels. They would be heels – just heels, comfortable, classy, lovely heels – if only there wasn’t what Jungkook defines as height discrepancy. Which translates into I’m short. And it’s 2019. So short people are expected to be tall, in certain circumstances. Like office attire. Even though, to be honest, it’s also my fault. My fault for being so enamoured with the classy and charming – when I told him, Jungkook sneered so hard I thought he was seconds from combusting – clacking heels make on smooth floors.

“That’s—” absurd, I want to say, but I settle with a mellow “—right.”

He’s not wrong. I am in the wrong, though. I open the front door of our apartment building, almost soulless.

“You can’t have feelings for your boss,” Jimin sighs, and I hear in the distance a vague shuffling of clothes. “You can’t be sexually attracted to your boss, either.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I greet our neighbours with a nod — actually, neighbour. The landlord, who is now heading out — and, as soon as she leaves, I groan loudly. With cattiness, I push the elevator button, my forehead pressed onto the wall next to it.

“We have to do something about it. This is not happening. And this clearly refers to you drooling over someone you can’t possibly have, for perfectly good reasons.”

“We?” I ask meekly, opening our place’s door. Jungkook’s not home yet, he’s got a late afternoon class that usually drains all his energies, which only means get in the shower before Jungkook does. Ergo, translation sponsored by the creator of the roommate language, thank you very much, the roommate who had to shower multiple times with cold, freezing water, in order to avoid such fucking loathsome situation, should enjoy her roommate’s absence. Especially since he wants all the hot water in the world for himself for the following half hour. Jungkook is caring just like that, yes. I am the luckiest gal in the world.

“Well, it’s not like we can handle you being all gross when talking about this guy’s dimples while sexually frustrated because, and I quote, he’s so fucking attractive.”

“I-I never said I was sexually frustrated, though?”

“Really,” he deadpans, “You did not. So, we didn’t go through a detailed erotic novel based on how you’d call him daddy despite you not wetting yourself at the thought of calling someone your daddy—or how you’d drop on your knees—”

“I think that’s enough, Chim.”

“Yeah,” he groans, “me fucking too.”

I ponder whether asking him what’s bothering him, because there’s clearly something I can’t quite picture troubling one of my best friends. Jimin is altogether the perfect comrade one needs in their life (he’s cool, he gives great advice, he listens, he’s always giving, which applies to a wide range of things, spacing from his shoulder to more practical, capitalistic things you didn’t even know you’d need) and the worst interlocutor one could ever have (he despises talking about his feelings, his thoughts, and never shares unless something huge happens). Jimin’s a solid seven, based on the results of the Kim Social Test. Tae had nodded his head, gravely, then wrote something on the papers he had been holding the whole time he questioned his soulmate.

How I wish I knew how to properly read people like Tae does. Jimin and I once planned to get him tipsy enough to sneak into his chaotic room for plenty of time, so that we’d discover the secret papers – the KST secret papers. Needless to say, we still know shit regarding Kim Taehyung’s enigmas. One day, Chim. One day we’ll discover all of the answers Taehyung hasn’t shared about the infamous twenty-seven steps test.

The moment I take off my shoes, though, something moving in my periphery catches my attention. Something white moving. Proper phrasing, Y/N. Namjoon expects better from you.

Someone… in white… moving?

Ten points to Gryffindor.

Wait.

It’s Jungkook.

My roommate. My shy roommate. Wet. Wearing just a white towel around his waist. Can people actually have a waist this tiny? And since when Jungkook has abs? What the fuck?

“’Min, I’ll call you back.”

“Oh,” Jungkook has seen me, moved in my direction and I shoot my gaze directly on his face. Not an inch below. Nope. I won’t stare at him. (Sure, the guy goes to the gym. The guy has muscles. But abs? Shit.) “When did you come back? I didn’t hear you coming in.”

Jungkook is handsome.

“Seconds ago. Really.”

He looks at me with a lopsided grin, hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. If he notices that my posture is somewhat frozen and my gaze won’t, incidentally, meet nothing but his, he doesn’t say anything, and I’m immensely grateful for that.

It just—struck me in a funny way, I guess. Not everyday you expect your almost naked roommate to greet you like this, coming back home. Nuh-uh. Especially not a roommate you didn’t realise had abs, thank you very much.

“When did you—uhm, when did you come back, though?”

“As soon as I heard my class was cancelled. I’ve been working on those fucking essays ever since, goddamnit. I needed a break, so I hit the shower enjoying your absence very much.” He shoots me a sardonic smile and, for a second, I’m tempted to hit him. But I don’t. He’s fucking naked. His skin is glistening because he’s still wet. He’s… he’s basically a whole adult now, and he still hasn’t learned how to properly use a towel.

Fucking fuck.

He’s wetting the kitchen floor.

Oh my god, get a grip, Y/N.

Eyes up.

“You were right, by the way,” he furrows his eyebrows, adjusting his towel with a hand and opening the fridge with the other, “I had to write them a long time ago. Procrastinating is fucking me up.”

I suppress my next thought as soon as it’s formed and carved into my brain. My heart is burning at how quickly this conversation could take a turn for the worst, so I spur, without thinking, “You’re fucking me up.”

Also known as the very, exact thought that my brain didn’t manage to stifle. Which could mean a lot of things, really! Out of context, yes, it could seem like I meant that in a… sexual way? But in reality—of fucking course not! Have you seen me? Have you seen Jungkook?

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise so much I’m afraid they faded into his hairline. Flush creeps into my face, so I hasten to add: “I’m supposed to take a shower first, you know. I deserve the hot water too. This means you only won this round.”

He grips the fridge door tighter, takes his time licking his lips and—I stop following his movements when he chuckles, his laugh almost lost in the awkward silence I brought myself upon.

“Yeah, war’s still on, shortie.”

I gasp, a loud sound that has him vibrating against the fridge. I’m seconds away from touching his back and get a hold of his attention but I refrain from doing so because—because he’s showing so much skin, smooth skin that would feel like silk under the touch. I can only imagine how my thumbs’ pads would feel, running against his bare body.

Get a grip, Y/N.

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mhm?” – he blinks, playing pretend – “What did I say?”

I hastily grab his banana milk from his hands, shoving it away from him and barely above my head.

“Come again, you coward.”

He now faces me, the tip of his tongue wetting his upper lip.

I fucked up, I realize, eyes widening.

I probably have three seconds to surrender before he’ll say or do something that will worsen the situation. The situation being his presence – his mostly naked presence – hurting me and making me flutter and thinking things and…

“You do have a chance of winning the shower game, baby…”

I’m fucked.

“But you lost this battle a long time ago.” his velvet voice whispers as his eyes dart into mine, falling into the darkness of my pupils.

Jungkook grabs the banana milk bottle, his fingers brushing mine and burning me while I can only stare back, mouth agape. He spares a look at his hand making contact with mine, but it’s gone as soon as it begins, because he’s back to staring into my soul and past lives and future ones.

I’m fucked, period.

I gulp when his phone starts ringing and that catches his whole attention.

More so, I feel like I can breathe again.

Jungkook blinks a couple times, his doe eyes darting to where he placed his phone last and, in that moment, I realize that Jimin is right: we have to do something about it.

We need to do something about it as soon as possible.

EXHIBIT D(enial)

Step twelve: what kind of relationship have you established with your person in question? Let yourself find out.

Jimin shakes his purple head from side to side, his thumb stuck in mid air as he stops scrolling down his phone.

“I just don’t understand,” he frowns, smacking his lips, “What am I supposed to tell you? You declined all my plans.”

If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was whining, the sound loud and deafening, able to soften his features and make him look a lot younger and innocent.

“I know,” it’s my turn to whine and show despair, I now get to crumble under Jimin’s scrutiny. “But I don’t want to date. I don’t want to put myself under all that stress—constant anxiety, fear of not knowing what the other is thinking, undeniable concern because our schedules wouldn’t match… and,” I add, allowing myself to breathe, “I want it to happen casually. I don’t want to force a relationship. The last time I did this it turned out to be a complete failure.”

Jimin sighs, blocking his phone and throwing it away on the couch. Taehyung and Jimin’s flat is suffocating. Hence why we avoid hanging out together at their place—one could say it’s nice, it gives off a cosy vibe and, yeah, in a way I agree. But having to shove Tae’s clothes in order to enter home, cramming into a small place both the kitchen and living room and debating whether the tiny veranda can be considered a new room is too much. (And frankly, concerning. Once, Jimin went outside to fetch underwear. Yeah, underwear.) I’d rather live anywhere but here.

My mind likes to be a bitch, because in a hot second I’m picturing Jungkook doing the most domestic and unfathomable things, like… like, laundry. I see him crouching on his knees, an attentive look offered to his dark clothes only, forehead showing, and tiredness written all over his face. He always smells so good after taking care of his clothes, the detergent’s distinctive smell sticking to his skin for longer than necessary.

“And I don’t want hook-ups. Especially not with people of your choice.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll admit that Tae and I have tried one too many times to match you with… not good fits.”

“Not good fits is a fucking euphemism, Park.”

He snorts, a hand in his hair. “Sorry, sorry. I know. Still, that leaves us…” he pretends to look at a paper in his hands, expression contorted into a delusional one. “Masturbation. Rub one off in the good, old way. Should be fine for a week or two.”

Doctor Park earns a swift prod of my elbow against his thigh, and I’m rewarded with his high-pitched laugh.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, that hurt.”

“This whole conversation hurts, Jimin.” – I sigh, slouching on the couch – “I can’t believe I’m letting you help with this… problem.”

“My dear dramatic friend,” he starts, propping an elbow on a cushion, “you’re just horny. Frustrated. And I don’t know how to help you.”

“That reminds me, you useless purple-haired good-looking friend—”

“…That’s not an insult?”

“…is everything okay with you? I mean – you live with Taehyung, so clearly something is wrong with you, but I mean emotionally? You’ve been a little off these past few days.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” my smile is inevitable, “Oh.”

Did he really think people wouldn’t notice? Me, of all people, wouldn’t realize something is wrong from his behaviour?

“No, just—same old, I guess.”

“My Jimin translator is currently fucked up so I need you to repeat what you just said in an understandable way, Min.”

Scratch that, my Jimin translator has always had problems. If it had ever worked, I wouldn’t find myself here, knees brought up to my chest, struggling to hear Jimin talking about his feelings.

He passes a hand through his locks. “I’m holding up just fine? Studying, working, hooking up unlike you.”

“Don’t make it about me, jerk. What about the person you were with, when we talked on the phone yesterday?”

“What do you mean, the person I was with?”

The look on my face makes him groan, hands now covering his eyes. “What gave it away?”

“Happy post coital Jimin is very different from frustrated but not sexually Jimin, I’ll have you know.”

“I don’t even want to know, what the fuck.”

“But I do,” I plea, tugging at the end of his shirt, “Tell me what’s wrong, Min.”

The whining tone of my voice has to do the trick, I reckon, because he’s throwing his head back and hastily grabs a cushion to hold—or to suffocate himself with, I can’t tell.

“I’m sort of—getting over someone. It’s harder than I thought.”

Oh, Jimin.

I’m dramatic, okay? Jimin knows, Taehyung laughs because of this and Jungkook finds it amusing, too. Everybody knows. So, I developed several different scenarios – a wide range of possible things Jimin would share (finally) with me, but none of them resemble in the slightest the real thing. And it’s somewhat frightening.

“You don’t have to tell me… I didn’t know you even liked someone in the first place. Really, it’s okay. I thought it was something trivial like trying to survive in this place or a fight with Tae, I don’t know.”

This makes him smile. “No, it’s—it wasn’t an unrequited crush, you know? Only, things happened, and we stopped seeing each other. Turns out it’s difficult to get over him.”

A pause, the tip of his tongue wetting his plump lower lip. “Do we know him? Me and Taehyung, I mean?”

“It’s—complicated. But it’s not a big deal, really.”

“How can you say that? Your feelings are at stake and seeing you hurt haunts me.”

He bites the insides of his mouth, eyes glinting with disbelief. “You really are dumb and dramatic, what the fuck. I’ll get over him, don’t worry.”

He throws a cushion at me, while I stare him, eyes wide and mouth agape because of his reaction, calm and composed. As if it’s really not this big of a deal.

“If you really feel sad, though… buy me a drink. Or two. Or three. Until me suffering stops haunting you.”

The audacity of Park Jimin, ladies and gentlemen.

[15.38] you: okay min

[15.38] you: you were right. i’m horny

[15.40] jimin: what else is new bb. What did he do this time

[15.41] you: bold of you to assume he did anything in the first place. But no. he didn’t do anything

[15.41] you: Beside getting a terrible haircut. I hate it. I kinda wanna punch namjoon in the face for this, and not in the kinky way

[15.43] jimin: Is there a kinky way to punch someone? Maybe you meant spitting in his mouth? On his dick? I’ll stop with these bc I don’t want you to get worked up over my texts

[15.43] you: shut up

[15.43] you: anyway one of his friends passed by. Red hair. Mouth hearth shaped. Adonis body. 10/10 would bang or kiss or hold his hand

[15.43] you: 15/10 would prefer the banging. Anyway, I don’t have a crush on namjoon, I’m just in need of a good dicking

[15.46] jimin: I’m screenshotting this and sending it to taetae

[15.46] you: blocked and reported

[15.46] jimin: you’re my dick deprived friend and I love you. Taetae says he’s not up for dicking you good because he’s in love with a girl that is about to blow him, sorry don’t be mad I don’t make the rules

[15.48] you: what the fuck did I just read

[15.48] jimin: just say you love me and you’ll go out with us tonight. Let’s partayyyy. I’ll help you find someone to go down on you, trust me

[15.49] you: what the fuck did I just read, the reprise

[15.51] jimin: no ok ok ok. Seriously. Go out with us. Me, tae and guk. We made plans a couple of days ago. Come with us. If you’re not up for a hook up you can just loosen up a bit and have fun with us. I promise

[15.52] jimin: please

[15.54] you: I’m in

***

One thing Jungkook doesn’t notice about me straight away is the feeling of uneasiness and worry that creeps up my face.

Jungkook’s curious, mostly alcohol-hazed, look scurries away before meeting my eyes: he checks me out (I wish I didn’t have to say this—but one has to come to terms with this admission after being looked at with dark, hooded eyes for a good five minutes), tilts his head in what I assume it’s his flirting expression, comments on the dark, sometimes transparent dress Taehyung bought me online and clicks his tongue in a mocking way, when said Taehyung hits him with a can of cheap beer and a couple of dirty jokes.

I would like to wrap Taehyung like a burrito with a warm, inviting plaid instead of having him dragging us all in a packed bar, for the simple and yet abhorrent (to him, of course) reason that he’s shit at pregaming. To be completely honest, he’s shit at drinking. Can’t hold his liquor if his life depended on it. Jimin blocks his phone and groans loudly, then proceeds in wrapping his arm around Tae’s waist and escorting him outside our apartment, murmuring a regretful “I’m doing this because I need it, you shithead. Don’t make me regret I came with you.”

I chuckle, amused by the two.

It’s only seconds later that my wrist is playfully grabbed by one clearly upset Jungkook. He blinks, twice, before wetting his chapped lips. I shoot him a questioning look that I hope doesn’t feel like I’m in need to get away from him because I’m being weirded out by his behaviour.

“I didn’t know you were coming with us.” he says, even though it sounds like a realization he wrongly pronounced out loud.

“Am I gonna be a problem for you?”

His doe eyes widen at that, but he’s quick to reassure, voice steadier: “Of course not.” He furrows his eyebrows, “I just meant…” A shrug. “I thought you didn’t do this.”

“What? Hanging out with my friends?”

He’s smiling an empty smile how, lips twisting into a crude exhibit of disorientation, like he doesn’t know how to answer that.

“Right.” He nods, stopping holding my wrist. “A friends’ night out.”

He steals a glance at me, short, devoid of emotion, before grabbing his jacket and following Jimin and Tae.

‘Right?’ I’m not—I’m not interrupting a guys’ night. I am not imposing. I can be pedant and dramatic and clingy to Jimin when drunk (remember the Incident with the former roommates of mine? Or better—don’t. I don’t wanna reminisce those moments. Just acknowledge that Drunk Me can turn into a cuddly, clingy friend) but I’m sure as fuck not imposing. God. I’m not.

As I play with the short cuticles on my middle finger, I gnaw at the inside of my mouth.

It’s funny how I am the one wondering ‘Right?; it’s in moments like this that I want nothing but to shove Jungkook against a plain, stone cold surface and ask him to talk to me. This crumbling show resembles so much the Mina Thing that I am feeling uncomfortable even asking. I thought that having a roommate meant gaining a friend; now I say: maybe. It depends. I guess that sharing a house with someone means you’re bound to come into contact with this other person, and there are times when this connection turns into something deeper, like friendship. Still, it’s not the usual friendship path, so you have to be careful and make sacrifices along the way. Right now, the sacrifice I’m making is taming my – how did Jimin call it, once? Mom-friend attitude?

Tone it down, Y/N.

Especially since I know I am not nurturing the boys into spending time with me and showering me with attention.

I sigh.

The question that fails to be answered is only one…

What’s gotten into Jungkook?

***

“Plan for the night,” Taehyung smirks, hands in his now longer hair, “I’m getting wasted.”

“Very mature,” Jimin snorts.

“You’d be too, if the fuck of your life didn’t call you back.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, “It happened a long time ago. I remember I was still wondering whether asking your roommate to wash up was decent human being behaviour or not.”

“Or not.” Tae blinks, hands in his pockets, “You once told me, too. You were rude.”

“You threw up on me!” Jungkook chuckles. “Besides, it was freshmen’s week.”

Jimin nods. “Banging on freshmen’s week doesn’t count.”

“Especially if that’s a grad student sorry excuse to get wasted.”

“She is a hot grad student, thank you very much.” – Taehyung moves into the crowd stalled at the entrance and points towards the bar – “You’re gonna find me right there until the love of my life comes back.”

“She won’t—”

“Don’t ruin it, shortie.”

The audacity. “Have you ever considered that, perhaps, you weren’t the fuck of her life, instead?”

“Way to hound me, woman.”

Jimin shakes his head and pushes his soulmate out of the way. “Grab me a drink while you’re there.”

“Make it three!” my voice follows him, now definitely swallowed by the crowd.

The place is packed. Tae mentioned the location being renewed over the past week, but I hadn’t given him much thought. (I still remember the ruin pub tour in Budapest, for god’s sake. A tip for the future: never let Taehyung plan your holidays. No matter how much promising his ideas look) and I must admit that I like the new touch.

My gazing the surroundings is hastily interrupted by a now awaiting Jeon Jungkook: he looks at me with an arching eyebrow, his lower lip enveloping his upper one.

“What?”

“Again, what do you want?”

Knowing who pissed in your Cheerios?

“I,” I shrug, “What do you mean?”

“Grab her a Long Island, Guk,” Jimin’s voice cuts in between our bodies, “I take whatever Tae’s having.”

Right. The drink. Of course.

Jungkook disappears before stealing a glance at the both of us, a je ne sais quoi of unsaid still clear between us.

“I hate to ask. You know I do.” Jimin’s fingertips brush against the leather of my jacket. “But… is something off? Between you two?”

The soft indie music that welcomed us when we got in slowly turns into a more upbeat, loud mix of sounds and I spot in Min’s eyes the need to go dancing. I instantly remember that this night it’s for him as much as it is for me.

“No, Min.” I shake my head along to my words, a quick smile on my lips. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Better not, shortie.”

Dancing is a harder activity to excel at, especially when you’re not Jimin nor you haven’t got Taehyung’s confidence, somehow perfectly balanced by his carelessness – he doesn’t give a fuck about judgements and stares and what-not, and this freedom only fuels him. I find myself juggling between being either of them or, well, striving to channel either of them into my limbs and inner self.

It’s all about matter of attitude, in the end.

This matter of personality traits you-can’t-quite-inherit-unless-you’re-the-soulmates-themselves corners me in a delightful position: I’m very close to dancing without restraints in the middle of this place, still placing a decent amount of attention on the music itself and the crowd that has managed to swallow me whole in the past half hour.

I’m exhausted.

Don’t get me wrong—it’s insanely freely to disinhibit myself and let go, every once in a while, but I feel as if there are matters yet to be discussed that stop me from giving one hundred percent myself out on the dancefloor, as Jimin called it.

These disturbing matters present themselves right on my side in the form of one very attentive yet not-so-sober Jeon Jungkook, when I shake my head and decide to buy myself another drink.

His bouncy, fluffy hair is sticking in every unfathomable direction when his gaze crosses mine, and I don’t further inquire his state, despite my expression probably giving my thoughts away. He cocks his head, licking his lips.

“What’s up?”

That definitely sounded like a staggered what’s wrong? Where did I fuck up?

I cross my arms and place them on the mahogany counter, shrugging my shoulders.

“This place is starting to stink.”

“Well,” he mulls, a finger in his freshly formed curls. “I hope you weren’t expecting flowers and, fuck, I don’t know? Soap? Ginger ale?”

“Damn, there you go crashing my hopes and dreams.”

“Jeon Jungkook, professional heartbreaker at your service.”

I scrunch my nose. “Be more creative, c’mon.”

“International playboy?”

“I was thinking more of laundry fairy, though? Or black clothes enthusiast?”

He stares at me with an uncanny expression, blinking twice. He then shakes his head, the tip of his tongue poking out, his hands moving with emphasis in a c’mere, I just wanna talk gesture.

“You take it back,” he says, unable to hold back a laugh, “Take it back now.”

“You’re a fucking menace, is what you are.”

Jungkook chuckles while placing his elbow on my shoulders, enhancing his tall person privileges. “It’s still early, you know,” he mutters after a while, waiting for me to order before talking.

“For what?”

“Jimin said he promised to get you a hook-up,” he explains, eyes on the people still dancing in front of us. His voice is softer when he speaks next, and I find myself unable to look away from his profile even though he’s not even glancing in my direction. “It’s still early, you have all the time in the world.”

Oh.

Funnily enough, I had almost given up on the quest. I just assumed Jimin and I were living knowing the second part of our deal was taking place right around us, ergo us just having fun. Brushing aside the stress of the past few days.

Jungkook thinks I’m here to get laid? For fuck’s sake. My face heats up at just the thought.

“I’m not that desperate, Guk.”

“I know this.” He takes a strand of my hair between his calloused fingers. “I’m just saying… there’s nothing stopping you.”

“Stopping me?”

He’s so close his laugh resonates against my side, his little smile not disappearing from his lips.

“Fishing for compliments, huh?”

He chooses the moment I frown not so delicately to turn around and look at me. “Am not.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he sighs, turning me around and placing an arm around my shoulders. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Oh.

How to survive from getting compliments by the one and only Jeon Jungkook, an autobiography by yours truly.

I can vaguely feel my fingers trembling.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” I retort, putting up the bravest smile I could muster up. “Try again.”

He hums, closing dangerously the distance between our bodies. I am flushed. Tingling. Burning. His breath is nudging my ear, his fingers playfully tapping my shoulder.

“Let me rephrase this, then,” a pause, “You could get anyone here.”

I follow his stare into the crowd, a bubbly, commercial song now playing. His deep, soft voice continues, “Literally anyone. From that guy on our left that has been staring at you for the past half hour to the girl on your right with the black straw in her mouth.”

As my eyes catch a glimpse of the people he’s mentioned, a vivid, powerful weight drops in my stomach. I swallow, frowning slightly. I just. I just don’t want them. I don’t want random people. I don’t want casual anymore. I’m throwing myself toward a better goal, a blazing direction, an ardent feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something that resembles a stable relationship. Domesticity. Tenderness. Urgency. Passion. The whole package, I can practically hear Jimin shouting. I want…

My mind must love playing tricks on me, because suddenly I’m surrounded by muffled sounds and I can only think: Jungkook. This one right here. This warm body next to mine. This kind soul.

The bubble bursts as rapidly as it had grown around me in the first place.

This Jungkook with a girlfriend. This taken man. This body that is used to warm up another girl’s sheets.

I fight the instinct to cry.

“Not interested in anyone, sorry.”

Jungkook’s tone is crushed when he speaks next, but I don’t care. I don’t even want to know why. It doesn’t even matter. I don’t want to think about it.

“Right.”

I grab the freezing drink with one hand, the other in my hair.

The cold feeling against my skin sends a shiver down my spine and I can’t help but feel as if that’s the only ending I’m getting. The only road I’m supposed to enter—the average one, the ordinary, already paved, already walked on by thousands before me.

The only time I’m thinking seriously about someone it’s—it’s about a taken one. Well played, Y/N. Good fucking job.

“See you at home?”

It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but who cares, right? I’m leaving Jungkook’s periphery before he can even form a decent answer.

Turns out I can channel one of the soulmates, in the end. It’s Jimin. It’s what the purple haired friend always does when his feelings are at stake. When he puts his defences up and plays around like me and Tae can’t fucking see he’s hurt.

I’m making sure feelings can’t get to me.

***

“Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi’s alarmed tone is the only clear sound I can properly hear. I giggle uncontrollably, hand covering my mouth.

“Ooops. Wrong number.”

My back slides against the wall, and I sigh as I sit down on the bathroom floor.

I don’t know what prompted me hiding in here.

I don’t—I didn’t think this through. Properly. I’ve never aced hide and seek, as a kid.

“Don’t worry… are you—are you alright?”

I gulp. “Yep. Yup. Positive, sir.” Now I’m hiccupping like someone who can’t hold his liquor. Someone I’m not. Taehyung in his purest form.

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s voice reverberates in my ear, “Have you been drinking?”

God. Why on earth am I on the phone with him?

“I don’t know, you’re the one who called me.” I said that out loud? Oh, shit. I burst into a fit of giggles, once again. This is so embarrassing. “Are you alone? Is Jungkook with you?”

“No, god. No.”

“Is Jimin with you, then?”

“Dunno. Might be outside the women’s bathroom. Might not.”

Have been here for the past twenty minutes, looking far worse than I sound, of course I don’t know. The freezing tiles melt me and my first instinct – my primal reaction to this unexpected, rude cold is staring at the ceiling. Not batting an eye. Throwing my head back on the wall, hoping the goose bumps will fade in seconds. Hoping the childish, irrational tears won’t wet my cheeks.

I hate this state of raw, sick vulnerability. I hate knowing it doesn’t go away with a snap of fingers, with the silent, hushed promise to myself that I’ll do better next time, I’ll take care of myself in such a good way this will only feel like a bad dream. A short-lived nightmare.

“Can you reach him? Please?”

It’s a sequence of blurs, then – getting on my feet, meeting Jimin’s worried eyes, brushing away Taehyung’s confused, warm hand. Jimin nodding, grabbing his jacket, scanning quickly the room. The buzz dissipates around me, numbing me to the point that I don’t recall going home, in the end. Neither Jimin’s precious care nor the quiet sobs that don’t stop.

Nothing but an unexpected text, bright and deadly, blurred with tears for me and myself only.

[01.26] jungkook: staying at mina’s tonight.

EXHIBIT E

Step fifteen: when in doubt, ask for a rematch. Challenge your opponent. Scoot closer. Drop the formalities. Let that stake be higher.

I’ve been through worse.

I’ve literally shoved my fingers down Jimin’s throat so he could throw up. I’ve studied the wrong assignment more than once. Once, I only ate birthday cakes for a week. Emphasis on cakes.

Harbouring silly, illogical crushes for someone doesn’t even make the top ten list. When you’ve known Taehyung and Jimin for longer than five years, you know it doesn’t even make the top twenty stupid things you regret doing in your life chart.

That’s why it doesn’t matter—okay, Jungkook looks good wearing black. Passing his hand through his messy locks, therefore showing his forehead. Making eye contact when he talks (that has lately turned into a reason why I’ve been blushing more around him, for Christ’s sake).

So what? It happens. It happens when people are cute. And smart. And funny.

“Morning,” Jungkook mumbles, voice drowsy and thick with sleep.

I’m thrown away by his appearance, which can only confirm the fact that he didn’t spend the night here, at home, his bedroom next to mine. He��s slouched on the couch, eyes still closed, his thick eyelashes catching my attention.

I try not to focus on the feeling in my belly, a weight in the pit of my stomach that dropped when I got his text last night and hasn’t disappeared ever since. He’s got a girlfriend and I have no right whatsoever to feel saddened by this crucial statement. Honestly, a part of me feels guilty because it’s nothing I didn’t know before yesterday. Does it make me mad, knowing that his girlfriend has been away from him for so long? That, while he pushed her away because he needed space, feelings for him started spurring in my stomach and mind and every limb of mine? Yes. Yes, ten thousand times yes. But—what can I do about them? I’m so used to dealing with feelings on my own – how many crushes did I suppress because my feelings were unrequited? I lost count – that it shouldn’t even surprise me. Yet here I am, yet here my last shred of hope flees away. I’m delusional. I’d laugh, out loud, dry, not at all sympathetic if only Jungkook wasn’t here.

As I bit the insides of my mouth, I can only hum in response, not gathering the strength to form a proper greeting.

“Tired?”, Jungkook asks as he starts playing with the rings on his fingers. I turn around, facing the kitchen counter and the mug I’ve just grabbed.

Tired doesn’t even begin describing what the fuck I’m feeling.

“Yeah.”

It’s all I can muster up.

“Mhm.”

I can hear a vague shuffling of clothes – he must be standing up, stretching his limbs, suppressing a groan. Only a glance. I spare only a glance at his tired figure that disappears from my periphery.

That’s how Jungkook retreats in his room.

I never hated Saturday mornings as much as I do now.

***

Maybe that was an idiotic hyperbole. Because, my internal voice almost stutters, this is what sucks. This is what I hate: a whole week (a whole ten days) without Jungkook. Scratch that. A whole ten days with Jungkook in it and my usual Jungkook missing from my life altogether.

He scraps his neck, doesn’t meet my eyes, doesn’t stay in the same room as me anymore. Which is understandable. I’m a rational human being, not at all baffled by emotions of any kind, of course, so I get it. An inclination of sorts erupted between us during that night out and it unequivocally brought to surface my limits (read: my feelings) and his desire to stray as further as possible away from me. I get that. I would have flirted with him and said things to him if the girlfriend package didn’t cross my mind. I have feelings and a deep, vivid imagination to support said to-be-neglected feelings and Jungkook must have sensed that. Must have had an epiphany somewhere in between this horrific, awkward week without me.

Makes sense! It’s alright! I can manage without him.

It’s the only right turn of things, after all.

As I hold the key in my hand and open the apartment’s door with a sigh, the stillness of the living room hits me at once. I don’t know whether blaming the shredded, dying light of the day breezing past the sunblinds or the overbearing tidiness of the stuff in the room. Just a glance towards the awfully tidy space, crammed with magazines precisely positioned on the coffee table, the couch, unused for days, taking up too much space, and the TV turned off since the beginning of the week… makes my stomach drop.

I’m suddenly burned out, feeling the weight of a never-ending week of work and innumerable talks with my mind crashing on me and trapping my chest. I let out a drawn out, exhausted breath, feeling for the first time in a long time like a guest just waiting to go back home.

A black mop of hair distracts me from this dying scenery, and I meet for the first time in too many days Jungkook’s big, doe eyes.

“Hi,” he puffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hungry?”

He’s standing with his fingers interlaced and a white tee too big for his figure that’s swallowing him fully. I can’t help but steal a glance at his bouncy, almost curly hair that look so, so incredibly soft at the touch.

“No,” I shake my head, voice low, already taking a step forward my room. “I’ve got a huge load of paperwork to do before tomorrow.”

He nods, and my heart breaks just a little because having dinner together was a thing I got used to too fast for my liking. There was something about his jokes and disparate comments on whatever show we were binging. Or about the soft chuckles he let out, the way he relaxed against the couch and, when it became too late, made sure to wake me up with that husky voice of his when I fell asleep on my end of the couch.

Upper lip between my tooth, I decide against standing like a fool in front of him when he made it extremely clear, in the past ten days, that doesn’t really want me around. Which is—hurting me, but I guess there are things I can’t control in life. One of them being his friend, right now.

As I retreat in my room, I feel so terribly stupid, without any doubt crushing once again on the wrong person.

***

Thursday morning finds me padding softly through my room, reaching the kitchen with my eyes half closed and hair purposely sticking in multiple directions to make me look like a mess in front of my roommate, because, of course. Jungkook’s in the kitchen.

It feels like a nightmare. One where I’m supposed to bump into Jungkook in the worst of times, looking desperate while he’s the very definition of boyfriend material. And I’m internally screaming. And dying, of fucking course.

He’s on the phone, humming at his interlocutor while tracing patterns on his thigh, his little dimple on full display.

“Hyung, no—”

He groans, and I can’t help but chuckle softly at the scene, his dark locks in his eyes. “I don’t know if… I mean, I hope we can make it…”

Jungkook turns fully around and faces me, his mouth agape and eyes wide, still able to melt me into a puddle of softness and quick heartbeats. I stare back like a stupid, crushing human being while I flush and he mouths a silent “morning” that steals a smile from me, anyway.

I can practically hear Jimin whispering whipped on repeat in my head and the implication alone makes my heart flutter.

(Maybe so, Park)

He stays like that in front of me, not moving, not even an inch, focusing his morbid eyes into my messy hair and brushing gently the tangles out. I freeze, unable to do something that’s not burning under his caring touch and pretending I’m not about to reveal my deep, inexcusable, unrequited crush to him.

I’m guilty once again—observing for a fraction of a second his lips, soft because of the melon lipbalm he insists on buying and when I look up, his eyes, ablaze, lock on mine and I believe there’s something resembling a flicker in them—a fervent flame shattering its surroundings.

“I’ll call you back, hyung. Yeah, yes, I know.”

As he places his phone down, he rasps, “Yoongi hyung is back. Just… just for a few days, though.” He hesitates, eyes still fixated on my bed head. “He invited me to his friends’ night out. Invited us, I mean. It’s nothing more than him pretending to be annoyed by us and being a good hyung, nonetheless. You know,” he furrows his eyebrows, “He’ll tell us we can’t hold our liquor then will buy us drinks and food. He’s gonna watch us eating like we’ve never had that much food in our lives and smile like an idiot at us bickering. It’s always the same with him. So,” he shrugs, his eyes darting to find mine, a bit insecure, “Are you free tonight?”

I blame the whole boyfriend attire. The softness of his request, the gentleness of his touch, his big eyes, my deep desire to feel a part of his life once again. Just for a night. Like the old times. Like we’d never put these barriers in between us. I want it so bad, even if it’s just for delusional fractions of a single, ordinary day.

“Yeah,” I whisper back, barely nodding, “Yeah, I’m in.”

EXHIBIT F(ucking finally, kid)

“Okay, so, you’re being paid for doing something you love?” Taehyung look absolutely gobsmacked by the idea that in this alternate universe there’s someone being paid for that exactly. “Hyung, it seems fake. Are you sure you’re being paid? Like, have you actually checked your bank account? Counted the money? Got that bread?”

“Oh my god,” Jimin whispers to himself, grabbing Taehyung’s hand and shoving him back. “You can’t ask people that, Tae.”

The soulmates glance at each-other, and Yoongi exhales a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I did. Had to buy Jin-hyung a Yankee candle as a thanks for the airport ride.” He looks at the eldest now, a frown and a pout adorning his face, “That shit costs a fucking fortune, though.”

“Not my fault my nose is delicate. I’m allergic to most things, you should know by now.”

“Most things?” Jungkook asks, confused. “I only knew of pollen?”

“Cheapness, kid. The acrid smell of an Ikea fruity candle. Yoongi’s crappy softener.”

Yoongi quite literally stabs Seokjin with his icy stare. “When did you smell my softener?”

“It’s lavender,” Jimin nods, solemnly. “It’s not bad.”

Before I can ask wait, how the fuck did you know that?, Yoongi shakes his head and comments on something twenty-one years old Seokjin did, once upon a time, that earns him a pout and a high-pitched reply by the eldest. I’d focus on how close the two – Jimin and Yoongi, of course - are, sitting with their shoulders almost brushing and thighs just inches separated, but I decide against it when I notice the way Yoongi smiles – all gums, all eyes turned into crescents – when Jimin throws his head back and laughs openly, clasping his hands together.

Oh, my mind offers, and I bite back a smile.

When Jungkook had told me about this night out, I didn’t imagine this scenario. This well outlined scenario with the bright cameo of Jimin and Taehyung, also known by anyone but me, thank you very much, as Yoongi’s friends. Or, well – acquaintances. At least on Tae and Yoongi’s part.

I fill my glass with water, eyeing the close two – Yoongi and Jimin – with sharp eyes, enjoying the calm aesthetic of this place, promptly suggested by a very euphoric Seokjin. (“It’s my brother’s restaurant,” he had explained, pride in his eyes, “I’m almost offended to hear you didn’t give it a try yet, but I’ll forgive you because you’ve put up with Jungkook for longer than I expected you to.” He smiled a proud, dad smile, all soft and bright, and before I could ask him to explain what he meant – or tilting questioningly my head, Jungkook had complained, loudly, a whine on his easy pout, “I’m hungry. Can we go in?”)

Turns out that we, yes, can go in, but, to Jungkook’s great dismay, we’re waiting for the last two friends to arrive. Jungkook has gone quiet beside me, his rings-filled fingers tapping a melody only he knows on the edge of table. I eye him for a second – a second that turns into two or three, definitely intrusive, because he snaps out of his hazed state and looks back, orbs all inquiring and able to make me burn under his scrutiny.

“I thought you’d be moping by now,” Seokjin begins, pointing his chin at Jungkook, a hand on the back of his neck. “You know, about…”

“His sorry relationship?”

Seokjin sneers at Yoongi’s remark. “More about that… all of that ended.”

“It ended a long time ago, though.” My roommate replies, while it’s my turn to become quiet and process the words I’m hearing. Does this mean what I think it means?

I swallow.

“Hyung,” Guk says, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “You know it had to be done. Wasn’t fair for either of us. Hasn’t been for god knows how long.”

“Wait,” Taehyung snaps, the bestest of friends, “You broke up?”

“No, wait,” Jimin says, a hand covering Taehyung’s, frozen in mid-air, “You were dating?”

Seokjin snorts, then shakes his head and goes for the first alcohol bottle on the table. Mood. Fucking mood. I’d grab that bottle or snatch it from his hands myself if I weren’t completely in a desperate, freaking out mode. My mind’s running towards ends and assumptions I don’t even want to hear, for my own sake, while my heartbeat is too fast paced for a chill, night out with friends. Friends only.

Oh, god. I wish Jungkook wasn’t smart and quick-witted. I’m so hoping he doesn’t connect the dots. I don’t want him to pick up the pieces and end the whole puzzle, so that he sees beyond the longing gazes and words and touches—or lack thereof and… gets it. Gets that my crush is insurmountable. And that it broadens itself like oil, dense and clear and unavoidable.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook smiles, then shakes his head as if to shrug off his shoulders this whole conversation. “You’re both being rude.”

“Hey, I’m not!” Tae replies curtly, “I just wanted to know if I can finally tell you how idiotic our last conversations have been! You know, all those ‘hyung, I need an advice’, ‘what if she—'”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, so what about the hideous ‘I jerked off to—'’

“For fuck’s sake.”

A napkin has been thrown in Tae’s direction.

“Nice touch” I say, because I’m an idiot that only points out the most useless thing out of this whole thing – fucking hell, this gigantic conversation slash vase of Pandora.

“Glad to know Jungkook’s still a brat,” a loud, chirpy voice to our left says. Remember when I said I didn’t picture the scenario like this? Well, scratch that. It turns out I didn’t picture the scenario at all if I’m being graced with Namjoon and Red hair. Mouth hearth shaped. Adonis body. 10/10 would bang or kiss or hold his hand himself. Oh my god.

What fucked up scenario is this?

What drama am I on?

“What the fuck.” That’s Namjoon’s greeting. I would snarl, but that would ruin my shocked expression. “What the fuck.” He repeats, blinking.

My boss, y’all.

What fine elegance. What charming behaviour. What snarky attitude. You wouldn’t believe that he is an editor, writer wannabe with that cool lexicon of his. His gentle manners, his perfect choice of words.

“Y/N? Why are you here?”

“Wait,” 10/10 would bang or kiss or hold his hand says, pointing fingers and retreating them soon after that, adjusting his shirt’s buttons. “Do we know you?”

“Kind of,” I say, offering a hand to him in greeting. “I’m Y/N.”

“Jungkook’s roommate? Wait—” 10/10 pauses, eyes wide, “Namjoon’s terrible intern?”

“I’m not that terrible, c’mon—”

“—you’re Namjoon?” Jimin almost shrieks, while 10/10, in the same, terrified tone asks: “Namjoon’s terrible intern is Jungkook’s roommate?”

As Jungkook casually throws his arm around my shoulders – most specifically, on the edge of my seat, I think, flushed, crushing, that this is the story of how I meet best friends Namjoon and Hoseok, number one Yoonmin stans, lukewarm coffee enthusiasts, great friends of Jungkook.

(He’d whisper to me, half an hour later, voice husky, “I didn’t know my Namjoon was your Namjoon.”

Then, Jimin would squeal, muttering to himself, “That Namjoon?”, ignoring Yoongi’s curious stare.)

***

Jungkook has broken up with his girlfriend.

Which means that he’s, now, single. Girlfriend-less. No girlfriend package. When I think of him, from now on, I’ll only be picturing a single, tall, package. Handsome, clearly. Good. Warm. All smiling and friendly. Caring.

“Have I seen you somewhere else, though?” Hoseok asks, eyebrow furrowed, while Jungkook stops eating and joins him in a collective scrutiny directed to me. This Jungkook is… just him. No relationships involved. No girlfriend. No love interests. No love interest?

It’s seconds later that I realize I didn’t answer Hoseok’s question, so I shrug my shoulders. “Work, maybe?”

My feeble, yet vivid and convincing hope has to die down. Because… Because what gives me the right to think he’ll want to jump off into another relationship? What makes me think he’ll like me? He’ll want a relationship with me?

Taehyung snaps his fingers right in front of Jimin’s face. “Screenshoot guy? 10/10?”

This is insane. I can’t believe I risked thinking I could make a move. Me, a shy coward. I can’t even fathom into thoughts – into words – the desire to laugh out loud at myself that I feel.

Idiotic. Truly idiotic.

“Yeah, Sherlock,” Jimin says, mocking, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Took you long enough.”

I send him back a tentative smile, that earns Hoseok’s genuine confused expression. Then I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, not noticing a pair of eyes following my actions. Not until he scoops closer and props his elbow on the edge of my seat, eyes covered with worry.

“You okay?”

It’s in these moments that I find myself wondering– what if I’m just imagining things? Just projecting? Just putting myself in the worst possible, imaginable scenario?

What if there’s more behind Jungkook’s care?

Right in front of me there are his soft lips, stuck in a pout, and I urge myself to lift up my gaze and meet his comforting eyes. “Yeah,” I nod, “Yeah.”

Jungkook’s hand then meets the back of my neck, brushing against it with a gentleness so sudden it almost makes me tear up. “Okay,” he murmurs, voice a tad louder than a hushed whisper.

The burden of my worries, as well as the unbearable weight of my thoughts, flutter away like a wave with his tiny, barely noticeable gesture and I find myself burning with affection for this soft, quiet boy.

***

“You’re drunk”

“I’m hardly drunk. I’ve sobered up,” sounding almost offended, he raises his hands on either side of his head, as if he was proving his innocence, “Would a drunk guy be able to sing a song of your choice without fucking up? Just say the name, I’ll prove it to you.”

(The chill, quiet night around us reminds me once again that right now it’s only the two of us. We said goodbye to the other guys ten minutes ago, each of us going in a different direction – ours is towards Jungkook’s car – and… I can’t help but recall Jimin’s fingers brushing Yoongi’s slender ones, crooked and willing to wrap around the younger ones. My heart. My poor heart is bursting with hope and fondness.)

Jungkook leans closer, eyes fixated on my face, causing heat to colour my cheeks. He doesn’t seem fazed by my lack of answer. My gaze moves from his exposed collarbones up to his doe eyes, eventually meeting his comforting but never questioning stare. He’s here, quiet, his presence never imposing, yet dominant.

He comes impossibly closer, chest brushing mine, a tentative hand gently caressing my jaw. I suck in a breath. His presence is numbing; the mere tracing patterns on the juncture between my face and neck is—is overwhelming. Too much.

I flush, inevitably, head ducking.

“Eyes on me,” he blinks, voice lower. “I want to…” his voice falters, just as a short circuit takes over my whole brain: his intoxicating closeness, his eyes on my lips… God.

Terribly close, yet so, so—

He doesn’t even see me exhale, nor wet my lips—my mouth meets his before my thoughts start making sense. Jungkook shudders at my lips pressing against his, gasping, mouth parting.

He presses his mouth harder on mine, flushing his body against my own, his slender fingers at the nape of my neck.

God.

I pull him closer, so tight I let out a whine that allows him to explore my mouth, tongue demanding, hands clutching at either side of my neck.

Moaning drives him mad, makes the kiss hungrier and more urgent and I’m suddenly gasping for air, tugging at the end of his hair, pulling him to me.

This riles him up—one hand strokes my cheek, gently, as opposed to the licking of his tongue, definitely different from the digging of his fingers at the small of my back.

He draws out his name from my mouth so gently that, for a moment, I think I didn’t speak at all.

“I want you,” he mutters, eyes shut and mouth indefinitely close to mine. “Want you so bad”

“Car,” he kisses me again, “your car, Guk.”

The next actions are a blurred mess (his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwined, my body pushed between the door of his car and Jungkook’s toned torso) but also have me collapsing against Jungkook, his heat pressed against mine.

God.

“Fuck,” he takes a breath, “you’re gorgeous.”

His hands tentatively roam on my hips, descend onto my thighs, grip them, all of this while I lose myself again in his kisses.

“Shit, baby”

Jungkook’s patience runs out when he feels my pebbled nipples against his chest, because he tugs at the end of my thin sweater, then kisses me harder, and I feel him everywhere, when he grips my ass, when he grinds himself against my center, drawing a long moan out of me.

Jungkook is intoxicating.

He draws my breath right out of my lungs, fingers teasing, grinding once again against me.

“Jungkook, fuck”

I whimper, he chuckles. The glorious, idiotic kisser trails pecks all over my neck, sucking on a sweet spot beside my ear.

“Guk, please…”

I don’t know what I’m whining for, but it’s enough for him to smile and close the distance between our mouths once again, savouring me slowly, in a wet, calculated kiss.

Just as my pulsating heat meets his in another tentative grind, Jungkook’s phone brightens the calm darkness of the car.

Oh.

He takes it out, swearing.

I wish I was groaning for other reasons. Sweet, good reasons. Like Jungkook pushing my legs apart, settling between them, lowering to—

“What the fuck do you want, Tae?”

As I listen to my best friend’s voice through the phone, I push myself off Jungkook’s warm body, sliding onto the passenger’s seat, legs crossed.

God.

He looks at me with a questioning look, eyebrows furrowed, and face flushed. His lips are wet from the ministration of my hungry kisses and I instinctively bite mine.

Don’t think about Jungkook’s eating you out, don’t think about Jungkook’s eating you—

“No, we were–we were going home. Yeah, that can do. Don’t worry, give us a minute”

He sighs loudly when the call ends, throwing his head back.

The sight’s almost comical.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to answer. It’s just–the phone was vibrating against my dick and you, too, were very close to my dick and I- “

I interrupt him with a kiss. He melts into it instantly.

“One more,” he hums, “before turning up the engine? Please?”

I erupt into a quiet laugh, obliging.

(What am I gonna do, say no?)

“In case it wasn’t clear,” he rasps, eyes on the road to pick Tae up as he has probably now realised he’d been left all alone without a ride back, “I like you. Have been since managed to eat half a cake in a sitting. Or since you fell asleep on me while watching Princess Mononoke. Which, incidentally, I don’t condone.”

I hold in my breath. “Yeah?”

He waits, then offers his palm to me, “Yeah.”

I intertwine our fingers.

It’s all quiet. It’s all silent. Yet, all warm. A graceful wordless full minute that warms my heart and makes me think this is not real. This is not possible. I think, my mind says, hazed, replaying Jungkook’s kiss once or twice or thrice, this is not really happening.

Oh god. I point with my chin at the next stop. “Pull out for a minute. Just a minute.”

“Something’s wrong?”

When he does, I feel my body aching for him, alive, burning. I can’t believe this. I brush my lips against his, all swollen and tasting, despite everything, still like melon. “In case it wasn’t clear,” I say, softly, “I like you.”

“Yeah?”

I pull back. His nose is touching mine, our foreheads brushing. Jungkook chases me, cupping my cheek with his hand, tracing circles, and letting his tongue delve into my mouth.

“We gotta pick Tae up.”

“Right,” he says, not moving an inch, “Right.”

“I’m gonna trade picking up my best friend for a kiss. Or two.”

“Cockblocker,” Jungkook replies, nodding, “But deal. Wait, no. A kiss. Or two. Hundreds, of course. Along with making out in the car.”

“I’m always free to try your car with you, if I know what you mean, right?”

Jungkook groans. “Let me live.”

“Of course.” A kiss. “My best friend’s waiting.”

“You asked me to pull out.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Of fucking course, do I look dumb to you?”

((“I’m moving out”

These are the first words Jungkook hears on a fatal Thursday morning, hands holding onto the kitchen counter.

A mixed feeling paints his expression.

“I know we haven’t talked about this, but I think we both know that it’s the right thing to do,” I add, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Absolutely,” then he nods, slowly, “I’m moving out.”

“Thank god,” he murmurs, hands already cupping my face, “For all the sex we’ll be having.”

“Jungkook!”

“Think about the bed,” he says, smiling like the attractive idiot he is, “The couch. Because you’re getting a couch. Think about all the places Taehyung can’t reach. Baby.”

“Jerk,” I say, kissing him lightly on the mouth.

“I’m celebrating for you, you ungrateful, amazing ass. Think about how easy blowing me will be.”

“Oh my god.”

“Think about how easy it’ll be for me to eat you out.”

I throw my hands around his neck.

“Not complaining anymore, huh?”

“Ass.”

“You love me.”

“That I do, baby.”

That I do.))

#jungkook #bts #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanficiton #bts fake texts #bts jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts scenario

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bts-love-sweat-tears · 5 years

Text

BTS Ideal Types as Subcultures/Tropes (idk what to call this post tbh)

A/N: Just a little scenario/imagine I thought of while I sit here scrolling through tumblr. JJK has been wrecking me sooo badly lately with that floofy hair of his.

No one needed another one of these but here we are. I haven’t written anything in forever but wanted something to post something original to share my gratitude with you all for sticking around while I figure out how to navigate “adulthood.” Typed on my phone as my computer is in for repair 😬

Now that it’s late 2019, i feel like we’re getting to know the boys in ways we haven’t before and their ideal types have likely changed. Not at all factual and based on my observations/ intuition. Meant to be comical. Sorry if my references are getting stale-I’m 28 now and not up on youth culture in the way I once was 😂

KNJ- the hipster (are they still around?): probably in an art collective with their friends who are scary cool, literature or philosophy major, you see them around but they’re always in and out or on to the next thing. Hard to get close to but friendly once you’re in. Has read every Murakami book, Salman Rushdie, Helen Oyeyemi, and any other critically acclaimed book that will win an award. Probably has read (or pretends to have read) infinite jest. Probably has a monochromatic module wardrobe that was thrifted/organically sourced, and impossibly cool glasses. Met Namjoon when they got into a heated philosophical discussion at a party and scared away all their friends to the beer pong table.

KSJ- the stand up comedian: Met at one of their performances, at which Jin tried out a few of his dad jokes on them. They rolled their eyes so hard while Jin’s friends stared on in secondhand embarrassment. But if anyone can make it work, it’s Jin. They’re enamored with his goofy windshield wiper laugh, and his endless optimism. Being a comic and dealing with the uncertainty is tough, but while Jin is hilarious he is also a rock solid, unflappable person to come home to at the end of the day. Jin admires their humor, resilience, and the adventure of an unconventional career (the Sagittarius jumped out here). Being with them is never boring, and Jin has the perfect captive audience for opinions on his jokes.

MYG- the social justice warrior: We’ve all seen Yoongi’s comments about capitalism and society, and possibly his comments about gender and attraction (depending on how you view the translation. A whole thing i will not get into in the midst of this imagine). It would take forever for them to DTR (if ever) because neither of them would care all that much. That couple that kinda naturally becomes a couple from spending so much time together. His SO knew it was real when he gave them the password to his studio. Not ones for flashy displays, but rather unwavering loyalty and support. Their idea of date night is takeout on the studio floor, discussing their activism and music. Minimal pda, but sneaky handholding when they think their friends won’t notice. His SO probably works at a nonprofit or other mission driven organization. Forever dragging him to political protests, rallies, symposiums, book signings, etc. When they are tired from the exhaustion at the slow pace of change, they always know they can find the best cuddles back home with Yoongi.

JHS- The hypebeast/hypebae: Probably in a dance crew as well, would meet at some kind of showcase. Won’t even bat an eye at the acorn bag. Always has the latest limited run hoodie from some obscure brand Hobi’s never heard of but is suddenly obsessed with. Unimpressed by his AP watch/money but impressed by exclusivity/hard to get items. Matching bucket hat selfies while waiting in line to cop their next pairs of sneakers. Probably super chill to relate to Hobi when he’s calm and balance out his hyper side when it appears.

PJM-The influencer: Someone just as pretty/aesthetic as he is with the following to match. With great power comes great responsibility, as they say- Jimin would be the ultimate instagram boyfriend, down to visit whatever cute pumpkin patch, coffee shop, or art installation his SO did. He has the photo skills to match from all the Kim Daily posts. That said, his idea type wouldn’t take advantage of him and would want to feature him in all of their posts, in full-on matching couple gear. They would also know when to put the phone down and give him all the attention he deserves and needs. The cute power couple that slightly makes you want to barf, but only because they are so sweet to each other and in their own little world. Probably have a joint insta for their dog/cat/lizard/whatever.

KTH- The CEO go-getter: type, with the income and art collection to match. Yes, we all know that Tae wants a family and domestic bliss, but I could totally see him being the stay at home dad while his SO takes on the world. Let us also note that he is a Capricorn, and I could see him valuing a partner who is driven and wants to build an empire/legacy (and cough contribute to his Gucci fund/general expensive taste cough. Have you all seen the cost of some of those Leica cameras? I digress). His SO probably has a MBA or multiple advanced degrees. Met at some expensive art gallery opening (probably Namjoon’s partner’s🤪) that they didn’t want to be at but had a sense of obligation to go. His partner might be more serious and reserved, to balance out his gregariousness, but they admire that in him. They would value Tae’s ability to see things in novel ways and distill the situation down to a simple but unique answer. Live and let live vibe, cave whenever Tae wants to take pictures of them, cold exterior but soft/goofy with him (wait, did I just describe Yoongi? I swear I’m only brotps 😂)

JJK-he seems like your typical gym rat but is not-so-secretly obsessed with nerdy video games and excessively violent anime (here’s looking at you, AOT). Therefore, he has two types-the sporty soccer player and the e-girl/boy. Impressed by anyone who can lift as much as he can and match his mile time. They could each push each other to be harder, better, faster, stronger (RIP our era of Kanye innocence).

On the flip side, his insta is suspiciously full of beautiful people with pastel hair, endless tattoos and a+ cosplay. Probably posts risqué pics. The person could probably beat him at overwatch, Skyrim, etc. He drops flirtatious comments in their messages, but too starstruck to say anything if he were to see them out and about. If they somehow meet and make it past all of the awkward, they will be the scene-y couple, at the amusement park, conventions, (comic) book stores, anywhere they can be their quirky selves together. Lots of shouting and playful jabs/smack talk that are all forgotten when the controllers are put down.

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts ideal type #bts fluff #bts crack #bts x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #hobi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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marshmallowprotection · 5 years

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Can I request HC for RFA + Minor duo (soz Vandy) with MC who loves kids and babies? Eg. MC would get slightly teary from seeing cute babies on IG or if they go w/ their S/O and saw a kid, their heart would melt straight away like "OMG they're so adorable!" (For Baehee and Zen's case, assume MC saw a co-worker/fan/customer who brought along a kid and MC gets super friendly like *cue baby language towards the kid and somehow the kid gets along with MC*)

Personally, children terrify me with the amount of responsibility they require as well as the dedication it takes to be a good parent. I respect anyone who has the gall to do it. But definitely not a good idea for me personally which is okay too! God, I hope I did you right, anon.

Yoosung Kim

° Oh my God. MC just got somehow more adorable than he thought they could? Yoosung feels some kind of way when he sees how excited or bubbly you get around children, you’re just so nice and it really makes his face turn red when he incidentally imagines what a future would be like with you where the both of you have kids together. He’s frankly, not going to admit it outright at first or anything, he’s just going to appreciate this from afar until you’re both a little older and more prepared for that kind of conversation.

° Him baby.

° He's still young. As are you! So the idea is off the table until later in life, of course, but boy whenever you get into that mood it makes him red.

° "Uh. Whatcha watching there, Y/N?" He asks as he sees you teary eyed from either laughter or joy.

° "....My friend's baby is super cute, and I can't help but watch whenever she posts something!" comes the muddled explanation from your lips. "I really like seeing babies doing cute stuff, makes me hopeful for our future."

° You're beaming and he's mortified.

° You want to... with him?

° Boy, he can hardly handle kissing you the first couple of times and you're already onto the future when you might have kids. His heart is weak but he can't deny how adorable it is to see your face light up.

° Upon seeing his red-face, you have to reassure him. "Don't worry, Yoosung. You have no idea how red you are right now! That's still a long time away!"

Hyun Ryu

° You have no idea what that is doing to the beast. Your sheer enthusiasm is really something that amuses him. The way that your eyes light up and the way your smile looks when you’re playing a game with a toddler really makes him chuckle. Unlike Yoosung, he’s going to verbalize his interest and tease you a little bit about you. Because he definitely wants kids sometime in the distant future with you when the timing is right, unlike the internal struggle that either one of the Choi brothers would be through, Zen’s connection with the idea of parenthood is different.

° He had it pretty bad, but he promises to do better, and he intends to uphold that. Zen will do better and never make his kid feel like they’re outcasts or not good enough. His fear isn’t in that he thinks he’ll become like his parents, it’s all channeled into becoming a better person. It’s a healthier manifestation of his issues but even he isn’t immune to thinking he might make a bad choice here or there.

° You met with some old friends and he saw the way you just instantly brightened with a kid in the room. It must be something about you because you can get enraptured in the smallest of thing and the simplest of things.

° Like, wow, you look super into making that kid believe his hiding spot is perfect.

° "You're pretty good with kids, Jagiya."

° "Haha. I guess so. I never really noticed. I'm just fond of them. I've always wanted to be parent."

° "...Is that so? I can help you with that."

° Uh oh, watch out MC, the beast is going to be unleashed if you aren't careful with your word choices.

Jaehee Kang

° One of your friends came over to the cafe and brought along their child, and you immediately took to the scene to say hello and amuse them for their parent long enough so that they could get a coffee and relax for five minutes. And you're surprisingly very good at handling the situation, in a way that impresses Jaehee. It's another side of you that she had not known. Your compassion has no bounds and you seem to want to help everybody.

° You radiate strong parent energy when you're like that and Jaehee has to admit that she's impressed. She had never imagined either of you as the type to have children but this cements the idea that if you did decide later on to do that or something like that, you would be a perfect fit for it. And the way that you always light up when you're amusing children just makes her feel even better about you.

° Jaehee is most put together person among everyone and she always tends to have a plan in line. Routine and day to day, she's more than ready to be able to add a child into that mix if the situation allowed. She's not always the most confident but boy will she do great as a parent because she knows how to handle messes. She doesn't exactly remember what it was like to be with her family but she knows it would be nice to build a new one with you.

° Jaehee often finds herself smiling in your direction at the counter when you coo at babies.

° You'll catch her staring and tease her for watching you like that. "Jaehee, are you jealous?"

° "Of course not," she'll say. "I just like watching you caring for children like that."

° She also would love to see you stare at her like that. Low-key.

Jumin Han

° It was one thing when he saw how gentle you were with Elizabeth the 3rd, and it is another thing entirely when he sees you with a kid.

°That really invites those domestic feelings that he's always longed for in his life. His home life wasn't always the simplest when he was a kid, and he didn't exactly get a rounded experience that every other person has been able to have. So, for him to be able to imagine being able to have that kind of life in his future really does it for him. Like, oh boy, he can work with this.

° You're always in a place that he hasn't been able to connect with the moment you're around a kid. Your face lights up and you're so bubbly and kind. It's like you flipped a switch and he really loves seeing you like that!

° You would be holding a friend's kid, cooing at it, humming a song underneath your breath, and man oh man, Jumin feels some kind of way about all of that.

° "Y/N, how do you feel about children?" He asks.

° Clearly oblivious, and unknowing of what he meant, "I love kids, Jumin, I thought that that was abundantly clear with my attitude, why do you ask?"

° "I meant for us."

° "Oh."

° Good luck with that!

Saeyoung Choi

° Oh, no. His MC is too cute for him!

° He cannot handle the amount of cute that happens every chance you get around some children. It's obvious to him right off the bat that you've got a lot of compassion to give to the world and of course you had to be the kind of person that somehow attracts the attention of every kid in the room. It doesn't matter what you've done or what you said, kids just seem to know what you radiate. You're a trustworthy person and innocent things pick up on that immediately. Seven knew your heart and type well before you worked your way into his heart.

° Similiar to his brother, he would have this internal dialogue that makes him feel like he won’t be cut out for it. It isn’t as bad as the fears that Saeran would feel, but it’s damn near close. Would he be a decent parent? Would he do the right thing? Would he royally fuck up? Because he wants to he a better person to everyone around him, including his own possible children in the not far future.

° It's actually you that makes the world of difference in his fears by helping him work on that fear as you often help out friends who have children, and your family who have younger children.

° You would be hanging out with a child while babysitting, likely working on a puzzle or something together on the carpet. Encouraging them whenever they did something right as well as pointing out the next step low-key, and the minute that you caught Saeyoung staring that was it for him. You don't take no for answer at times like that. He's roped right into this before he can say anything and it turns out he's not as horrible as he thought he might be.

° You have a way of easing out his nerves and that makes it a lot easier for him to talk with children and humor their imagination. His childish nature actually works pretty well with most kids so that persona isn't hard to come out naturally when he's pressed.

° "Saeyoung," you scold him afterwards, knowing what he was thinking. "You shouldn't be scared of children, you're a natural at caring for them!"

° Wounded pride. "Not as well as you are, Y/N."

° "That's only because I've been working hard at it. You didn't even have to try. I know you love kids, you'll be great with our children when it comes down to it." You say.

° Reassurance and teamwork really makes the dream work.

Jihyun Kim

° Jihyun loves the way that your face lights up when you're with children. The warmth of your heart really sets him on fire, and he decidedly cherishes this side of you because it's sweet.

° Even though it's been rocky for such a long time for him, he was trying to care for Saeran and Saeyoung when he was practically a kid himself. He doesn't regret trying to help those brothers even though it turned out the way that it did. That's the one thing that has stuck with him in spite of the fears. Caring for children, your biological, or adopted, it's a rewarding thing! It's something that he believes in and won't ever be shaken from. He might be hesitant to take that step in his own life again, in the fear that he make a horrible choice that lands somebody in trouble again.

° It would take a very determined MC who helps him learn otherwise to allow him to want to be a parent again to another child but he'll prove himself.

° It's easy for you to keep up with children, and he catches you in the midst of playing a game with a friend's kid and the way that that kid is so excited about you makes him think that you could be a great parent.

° "You've been hanging back for a while, Jihyun, do you prefer watching then participating?" You would tease him for standing in the doorway, just watching from afar.

° "No, no. I just like seeing how your face lights up, Y/N." He would say, looking away. "You're great with kids."

° "Are you just saying that cause i cried at that video with the baby last night?"

° "No way."

° Probably. You'll never know for sure, now will you?

Saeran Choi

° His struggle is probably the worst out of this group.

° It’s not a bad thing, per se, it’s just that he fears children. No, it’s not that. He wouldn’t mind children if they were the others his brother had, or possibly even some of the other RFA members. It’s that he fears the idea of parenthood. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to capable of that, and that feels like a failure to him. He gets that his MC likely would want to be a parent and he loves the way your face lights up when you see kids it’s just -

° There’s a disconnect. Oh, he can envision his MC being a great parent to someone. But! He cannot see himself in that place. He struggles to see himself in charge of another life; Its hard enough for him to keep himself alive most days. It’s this lingering fear that he’s had for a long time where he might turn into his parents. He fears the sheer idea alone that he could ever be as awful as they were to him to his own children. Just the thought of raising his voice to a child makes him want to spin into a panic attack and dissociative fit.

° This would even be after a few years of really trying to get himself better, too, he can’t just shrug that fear away. It'll always be a part of him and he's tried to accept it.

° But, he knows how you are with kids. He respects that and stays out of the way most of the time when you're engrossed.

° It's when he's sitting alone with the kid and you had to leave the room to take care of something and you've left him alone with this kid, that he's put on edge. Of course this would happen. But, its not awful, it's a soft spoken child who hasn't said a lot since you left the room. He would manage a small "hi," and so would the kid. Awkward, to say they very least.

° Unfortunately he's not you so he doesn't know what to do.

° And when the kid starts to cry a little, he panics.

° What is he gonna do?

° You'd come back to the situation thinking it would be alright, and yeah, you're right. Saeran's taken it upon himself to ease whatever fit the kid was having by offering to share some of his sweets. That's one way to work your way into a kid's heart. Its moments like that that reassure some of Saeran's fears. The way that you smile at him when you see he's handled his fear, that's what makes him feel so great about himself for once in his life.

💜 Mod Kait 💜

#anon #ask #mod kait #mystic messenger #mysme #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #hyun ryu #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim

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livingmybestfictionallife · 6 years

Text

Kissing Me

Anon Request: Tom Holland imagine with the sentence starter "Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?”

college!AU

College was an interesting place and, if you played your cards right, was the exact opposite of high school. In high school, kids were overly judgmental and didn’t venture far away from the few close friends they’d had since kindergarten, where as in college, people are exposed to new people in tons of new situations every day. It was during one of these randomly happened across situations that (Y/N) found herself during the first few months of her first year on campus.

(Y/N) shared an apartment like dorm room with three other girls who were all strangers, but eventually got to know one another fairly well. Despite having her differences in personality with her three roommates, everyone managed to get along, but there was one thing that irritated (Y/N) more than anything else that her roommates did: not tell her when they were having people over.

More often than not, when (Y/N) finished a long day of classes and wanted nothing more than to go back to her room and sleep, silence wasn’t an option when her roommates brought over their other friends. There was only one time where the inconvenience of them bringing people over and not telling her wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, and that was the night she officially met who would become her closest friend: Thomas Stanley Holland.

(Y/N)’s roommates were, without a doubt, more outgoing, friendly, and approachable than she was--which probably accounted for why they always had people over--and one night, decided to order a couple pizzas and invite over a couple guys they met at a campus event earlier in the year. As the three girls planned on what they were going to do once they got the two guys they’d all been secretly pining after for the past couple weeks in their dorm, (Y/N) finished an Algebra quiz, thinking only of the left over food her mom sent her back to school with after a weekend visit and of binging whatever season of The Office she was about to re-watch.

With her night planned out in her mind, (Y/N) hurried home to shower, put on a pair of loose fitting shorts and a slightly baggy tank-top, pulled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, and slipped beneath her covers to watch TV on her laptop. As she began to dress down on that Friday evening, her three roommates had begun primping themselves: touching up makeup, fixing fly aways, redoing their hair...the works. For a moment (Y/N) was thrilled to be able to have the suite to herself, thinking that the other three were going out to a party, but when the minutes ticked into hours and a knock sounded at the door, she groaned as her roommates’ giddy squeals sounded through the apartment like dorm.

Out of curiosity to see what the other girls in her suite were so obsessed over, (Y/N) rose from her bed and walked into the open area of the suite that consisted of the living room and kitchenette. She grabbed a piece of pizza and took a quick glance at the two guys that had just entered the room: one was taller than the others with blonde hair and blue eyes, the other had dark brown hair and eyes that matched. (Y/N) recognized the second almost instantly: he was an exchange student and was in the same psychology class as her, but she didn’t have any interest in lingering around with her horny roommates as they tried to seduce one, if not both of the boys they’d invited over.

It wasn’t long after (Y/N) ducked back into her room and started watching The Office again that the brunette with chocolate colored eyes poked his head through her doorway. Apparently he was less than thrilled about the movie choice (Y/N)’s roommates made and had heard the theme song to The Office repeatedly mocking him from the next room over. The brunette, Tom, spent the rest of his night there watching Netflix with (Y/N) and ignoring whatever attempts were made by her roommates to get his attention, and it was then that (Y/N) realized that she had a friend for life.

As semesters passed, the bond between (Y/N) and her roommates withered, as the one between her and Tom grew stronger. She knew they were jealous that he didn’t give them any attention after that night and was closer to (Y/N) than them, but she hated that they took that out on her. When junior year rolled around the corner, (Y/N)’s roommates decided to downgrade to a three person suite and leave her to fend for herself. Around the same time that (Y/N) was searching for a place to stay, Tom was looking for a roommate to share his two-bedroom apartment with. Given how close the two had gotten in the past two years, it was a no brainer for him to immediately, without question, tell her to move in with him. After some consideration and a period of anxiety over being homeless, (Y/N) agreed and moved into the guest bedroom of Tom’s apartment under certain conditions.

“Conditions?” (Y/N) had mockingly questioned him as Tom helped unpack her boxes.

“One, let me know if you plan on having people over. Two, food can and will be shared. Three, my dog has to accept you. The final and most important condition: this,” he said while gesturing between him and the girl before him, “has to stay platonic.”

“Didn’t have any plans on changing that,” (Y/N) muttered with a smirk as she started to set up her room and Tom lowered a few boxes into a corner.

“Well then good,” he said with small laugh that, on one level or another sounded disappointed. “I’m not trying to get tied down here when I’m wanting to go back home after graduating,” he said as he tried to offer (Y/N) an excuse for the condition.

“Don’t worry Tom,” she sighed, “We’ve been friends for two, almost three years now. If I was going to fall in love with you, I’d have done it already,” she mocked. She laughed on the outside but felt a pain inside her heart she recognized as disappointment, only she hadn’t figured out what for yet.

Living with Tom had been one of the easiest and greatest decisions of (Y/N)’s life. It was a simple and straightforward lifestyle that she hadn’t ever experienced while living with the three other girls who had subtly kicked her out. Almost all of their time outside of school was spent together: they cooked and ate dinner together, watched TV together, studied together, and the partier Tom and been early on in college--and even into the beginning of that year--had subsided. He began to look forward to hanging out with (Y/N) every night, to teasing her about insignificant things, messing with her, gently stroking her hair while she fell asleep on the couch watching whatever show or movie they had chosen, but above all, he looked forward solely to returning home and knowing she would be there. Of course he didn’t realize that the domesticity of his relationship with (Y/N) had lead to a blossoming in the way he saw her. As they grew closer and closer, it became more and more difficult for him to deny that things on his end were no longer strictly platonic.

(Y/N) and Tom had just finished cooking dinner and, as Tom piled his plate high, (Y/N) sat on the couch with Tom’s dog, Tessa, at her feet. Tessa rested her strong, block-like jaw on (Y/N)’s knee and her big brown eyes drifted toward the new, female presence that Tom had once jokingly referred to as her new mom. Unable to resist the cuteness of Tessa’s begging face, (Y/N) slipped the dog a bite of chicken and then allowed her to jump up on the couch and curl up against her thigh. Tessa nudged and wiggled herself until her upper body was positioned half way across (Y/N)’s lap, forcing (Y/N) to hold her plate above her head to avoid spilling.

“Tess!” the two heard Tom call as soon as he rounded the corner from the kitchen into the living room. Tessa’s playful and loving behavior was quickly reverted to guilt; she knew she wasn’t allowed to be on the couch, but she knew (Y/N) would let her. (Y/N) rested her plate on the coffee table and held Tessa against her lap, keeping the dog from getting up and causing Tom to narrow his eyes at her. “(Y/N),” he tried to scold her, but after having fought whatever sexual tension (Y/N) knew was lingering between them, she couldn’t think of his attempt of being mad at her as the intro to a bad porno.

“Tom,” she said in response by mimicking his expression.

“You know Tessa isn’t supposed to be on the couch,” he said.

“Technically she’s on me,” (Y/N) countered.

“And you’re on the couch!”

“If you put the hammer in an elevator is the elevator worthy?” (Y/N) countered while cocking an eyebrow and holding the muscular dog in her lap.

“(Y/N), we have rules for a reason,” he said while drawing out her name in an exhausted tone, tired of having to tell her repeatedly to get Tessa off the couch.

“Look at her face,” (Y/N) said in a cutsie voice reserved for puppies and babies while widening her eyes and frowning to mimic Tessa’s puppy dog face.

“Like I said,” Tom repeated trying to stay firm in his decision, “we have rules for a reason.” (Y/N)’s face quickly distorted and a small flash of frustration or anger was visible to Tom even if only for a moment.

“Some rules are meant to be broken,” she stated sharply and hugged Tessa before letting go of the dog to let her make her decision on which human parent she’d listen to. Tessa’s eyes darted between Tom and (Y/N) before she reluctantly slipped off (Y/N)’s lap and flopped down onto her dog bed beside the couch. “Coward,” (Y/N) muttered after Tessa, earning a small laugh from Tom who was trying not to read into her previous comment.

As Tom lowered himself into the cushion beside (Y/N), he couldn’t help the lack of control he felt his body urging him into when in her presence. The rules he had, the conditions he made her agree to, were all made with protection in mind: keeping Tessa off the furniture protects his belongings, ensuring Tessa got along with (Y/N) was to protect Tessa from feeling like she was being replaced, and making (Y/N) promise to keep things platonic was to protect their friendship from falling apart due to the complications of romance. Oddly enough, it wasn’t until Tom saw the hurt expression in Tessa’s face when she reluctantly got down from the couch that he recognized the hundreds of times (Y/N) had bore the same expression. From the second he introduced the final condition of living together, to every time they were messing around in a friendly manner or bantering back and forth, or even having an impromptu fight while chunking the couch cushions across the room, both of them had held back the full force of their emotions, and (Y/N)’s came through via the guilty expression on her face for nearly breaking her promise.

After finishing eating, (Y/N) went into her room, like she always did after a rough encounter with Tom, to process how she could keep herself from acting on any emotions pressing her to be more than just platonic roommates with her best friend. She wasn’t sure if he felt the same way--sure she never saw him with any other girls, but she convinced herself not to look too deep into something that could be nothing, and so she honored his wish of staying just friends.

Time after time, Tom had sat alone after eating, waiting to see if (Y/N) would come out from her room and continue watching TV with him, only to be left to his own thoughts--normally, those thoughts focused around her. Whether it be the lingering question of what things would be like if they were an item, or him wondering what it felt to have her lips against his, or even reverting back to the fantasies he dangerously entertained himself with from time to time--most notably while watching her being domestic for and with him. After three and a half years of knowing her, half a year of living with her, and what felt like a lifetime of trying to force himself from feeling anything for her, he couldn’t think of anything other than her snarky and bitter voice as she said some rules are meant to be broken.

Tom took one long look at Tessa as she lay, discontent on her dog bed with her nose pointed toward (Y/N)’s room and a low whimper in her breath. He took a deep breath himself before standing and making his way toward (Y/N)’s door. With a soft knock and no response, he pushed the door open lightly and noticed her slipping an oversized t-shirt he thought he recognized as his on over her head. He cleared his throat to let her know he was there, and (Y/N) spun around to see Tom’s face pulled tight in an anxious expression.

“Everything okay?” she asked as he took a few steps toward her. He shook his head softly and gently grazed his fingers against hers before looking into her welcoming and kind eyes. He took one last courageous breath and then lowered his face to hers. When his lips met the soft skin of hers, he relaxed into her presence, slipped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close to him, comforted in the fact that she had reciprocated the same repressed feelings he held for her. After his lips grazed against hers and he begged for the kiss to deepen, (Y/N) pushed back against his chest, hesitant in what she was doing and wondering if what was happening was a reality, a dream, or some sick prank.

“Wait,” she said through a heavy breath. “Kissing me breaks the promise.” Tom’s eyes were locked on hers and she self-consciously looked away. His fingers gently touched her jawline, begging for her to bring her eyes back to him. Once she had given him her attention, he pressed his forehead to hers and relished in holding her against him for a moment longer.

“You were right,” he sighed, “some rules are meant to be broken.” At the end of his words, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. Tom’s lips fell against (Y/N)’s once more and both of their hearts pounded as the tension and excitement overcame them both.

Sensing a change in the atmosphere and emotions around her, Tessa jumped from her bed and ran into (Y/N)’s room. With a big leap, she jumped up onto the bed that Tom and (Y/N) had fallen into--their lips still locked and bodies still holding one another. Feeling the shift in weight on the bed, Tom pulled away for a moment to see his dog curling up on the pillow behind where he and (Y/N) lay. A “disappointed” smirk fell over his face as he narrowed his eyes at the girl lying beneath him.

“You came around when it came to me,” she said with a smirk, “give it time and you’ll give up on that rule too,” she teased. Tessa panted happily as Tom returned to kissing (Y/N), and fell asleep content, knowing that something important had happened today to have Tom let her lie on a piece of furniture. From that moment on, Tom didn’t see either of his girls bear that disgruntled look of reluctance, and all three of them were happier because of it.

#tom holland #tom x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland request #tom holland imagine #thomas stanley holland #thomas stanley holland fanfiction #thomas stanley holland fluff #tom holland fluff #college AU #tom holland college au #tom holland roommate au #roommate au

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ultrakeystotheheartblog · 6 years

Text

Popstar Pipes (Dick Grayson x Reader)

Request: “Can you do an imagine with Dick from Young Justice singing Jesse McCartney songs?” - @nyntendoh44

Song: Better With You (Acoustic Version) - Jesse McCartney

A/N: A long one again, I hope you all enjoy! :) I apologize if there’s any grammar mistakes or if Dick seems out of character in any away (it’s been such a long time since I’ve watched Young Justice. I definitely need to re-watch before the new season starts lol). Also, the next imagine I’ll be working on will be a Starfire x Fem!Reader. Look for it soon!

Warning: swearing, and cheesy-cheesiness

*********************************************************************************

Thirteen texts.

In counting.

And still nothing back.

You stare dejectedly at the open messenger of your phone, anxiously swinging one of your legs and tapping the toe of your boot against the sturdy oak siding of the bar. The wood is scuffed and aged, just like most of the furniture pieces and features that make this place feel kind of homey and lived-in and real. Like a little slice of domestic bliss that’s hard to find in the fast-pace of the outside world, a comforting haven dressed up as a small, semi popular bar near the centre of the city.

There’s a cute juke box in the far right corner of the bar area, with peeling red paint and a minorly cracked plastic casing. A large, scratched up pool table in the far left that no one really seems to gravitate towards anymore—if the layer of dust settled in the green bed cloth is any indication. And a cluster of worn round tables and wicker chairs bordering the small raised platform at the very back.

The platform itself lies beneath a row of remote controlled spotlights that flood the stage in hot, bright beams, bolted along one of the many heavy beams crisscrossing in a grid along the ceiling. The stage is tiled with flashing squares of multi-coloured lights that are reminiscent of a disco dance floor. An upgraded DJ booth sits just beyond it, and is evidently what most of the money seems to have gone towards. And for good reason you guess, as this place saw a lot of business for their involvement with anything music—be it local bands or starving singers, or more recently (and maybe hilariously) the open mic karaoke nights.

It’s a nice place—rare in the city you live in—with an even rarer handful of pleasant staff and a good vibe that usually attracts good, friendly people. It’s probably why you and your friends like to come here so often to de-stress. Though right about now you think the warm environment is lost on you for the night, because you do not feel one bit de-stressed.

You’re one of the few people sitting there at the bar (the rest of the patrons already crowded in the seating area around the stage), perched on a cushioned, yellow bar stool with thin metal legs that creaked with any amount of shifting weight. It’s cooler there and quieter, a sweet couple sitting to your far left at the end of the bar. They’re swapping stories about their days, hands intertwined over the top of the bar, and there’s a much older man in his early 40’s just down a couple of seats from you.

He’s unshaven and blinking rapidly through bloodshot eyes, already on his sixth drink of the night. He’s also clad in a stylish blue business suit that’s crumpled like he’s slept in it for days, obviously here to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Well, suit guy, look at you go.

You think you can surely understand him on a spiritual level.

On that note you frown and lock your phone, placing it face down before turning back to your own drink. You squeeze the cool glass between your fingers and take a rather large gulp from its contents. It’s still only your first one, so the burn as it hits the back of your throat is not numbed in any way by a drunken haze, and is still sort of painful when you swallow. But it’s good enough to take your mind off your own problems for a minute.

You peek at the couple again when the no-nonsense, heavily tattooed bartender passes in front of you to refill their drinks (taking a moment to throw you a sympathetic smile and playful wink over his shoulder on the way—thanks Joey, you’re kind of best friend material), feeling bored and sad enough to continue in your people watching. Both women are dressed in matching red and black motorcycle jackets that reminded you of something straight out from Grease, the emblem of a team or group (maybe a gang? There were a lot of those still operating in Blüdhaven lately, regardless of a certain bird’s frequent visits) stitched in white across their backs. God, you wish that were you.

And by that, you meant enjoying those cheesy, delicious nachos sitting between them. Because it seems that your ‘date’ for tonight—this definitely isn't a date though, just two friends hanging out after a stress-filled week of work that literally (metaphorically) burned out a piece of your deadening soul, just two pals out for a casual drink in a casual bar with a causal amount of anxiety (okay, an abnormal amount of anxiety because you were having some really weird, certain feelings about this friend lately, but that was nothing to really worry about, right?). Besides it’s not like anything is going to happen tonight…because he isn’t even here to see you potentially embarrass yourself like the walking disaster you are—has decided that 8:00pm was more like a suggestion, than the actual meeting time you’d both put effort into setting up like responsible adults (ha! what a fucking lie). And here you were at 8:45pm, planning the best way to throttle one of your best friends in this whole stupid world with only your bare hands.

You seemed to be resorting to that plan a lot today, but that’s just because people suck and you want to live like a hermit in your bedroom until you get old and wrinkly and eventually die covered in something both tasty and respectable—like chocolate. Was that a little too weird? Probably. Are you going to take back any of what you just conjured up in a moment of frustrated self-reflection? Nope, you decide that you’re committed to that vision, as long as you don’t have to deal with how shitty the world was becoming anymore. Or staying…it’s been pretty shitty for a while. And does that make you a coward? You don’t like to answer that question.

But you can’t help but admit that part of you is worried too. Worried if he got sucked into dealing with more vigilante stuff, or team stuff, or bleeding out in an alley somewhere alone stuff, and just lost track of time. All three have happened before. You tap the screen of your phone again and sigh in defeat when you see there are still no messages from him.

And then you very nearly lose what’s left of your crap when two hands clap over your eyes from behind and eclipse you into semi darkness. You tense, spine locked straight as you shoot up in your seat and are unceremoniously ripped from your depressing musings, gripping the edge of the bar so hard it hurts your knuckles. You have to learn how to be more aware of your surroundings, because holy shit you can only take so many heart attacks during your young life.

There are lips at your ear, minty fresh breath soft against your skin as the person chuckles, the sound comforting and warm and familiar in a way that has no issue bringing peace to the drowning, dark places in your mind. And as damningly cliché as it can get, the world just seems to fall away into the background—the sounds of clinking drinks, the clunk of cheap shot glasses striking wooden tables, crappy pop music, boisterous, annoying loud-talking and off-key singing from the group of bachelors partying it up on that open mic, and the laughing couple still sharing that damn plate of nachos they’d ordered over an hour ago, all becoming this muffled sort of white noise in your ears.

You can only focus on the feel of his hands, roughened and calloused from his work as a hero, but you can feel the strength in them too. A strength that always makes you feel protected and insanely wired in the best possible way, a heat pooling into your abdomen that you can never quite discern as one thing or another. All you know is that it makes you truly alive. And maybe a bit annoyed, especially when the owner of said hands is almost an hour late.

Prickling irritation makes your chest grow tight, and you take a steadying breath in, immediately inhaling the muddled scent of his sharp cologne and a clean, citrusy body wash that makes you feel blissfully dizzy. But only for a moment.

"Guess who?" He whispers with a ridiculous amount of charm seeping into his voice (looks like someone knows they’re in trouble and is now trying to get on your good side), the front of his body pressed up against your back. So close, that if you weren’t just a little ticked, you’d have probably leant back against his chest to seek out some semblance of comfort—like you always do when around him—especially when thinking about what you’d had to go through during your work week. So, you settle for being a little petty instead.

The night is still young after all.

You reach up to touch the back of his hands, slouching back down in your seat a little. "Hmm let me see—sweaty, calloused hands and the smooth timbre of a teen popstar. It could only be my dork of a birdbrain."

He snorts in laughter and his arms drop like dead weight to his sides, moving to your left side to lean against the bar. His eyebrow lifts in amusement as he stares at you. "Ouch. Just going straight for the throat tonight, huh?"

You blink at the sudden return of light filling your vision, sliding around on the bar stool to face him with a pointed, narrow-eyed gaze. “Would you rather me go for something else?”

Dick Grayson ever rarely, and so outwardly, reacts when it comes to threats of his own well being (though if it were ever turned on the people he cares about…than that’s a whole other room you don’t want to spend time unpacking right now)—a testament to his time raised and trained by the scarily stoic, and maybe slightly emotionally constipated, father figure (THE freaking Batman you’d come to learn recently, and kind of wished you hadn’t, because that’s super intimidating) and then his time spent as a highly-skilled vigilante hero—and this time was definitely no different.

But you’d gotten good at reading him over the years without much to go on, almost just as well as he can read you, because you can see the flicker of something akin to concern in his gaze—but for you or his situation, well, it’s kind of hard to truly distinguish with how fast it comes and then melts away into uncertainty—and then he’s slowly moving to cover his crotch with a one hand. He never breaks eye contact with you, awkwardly clearing his throat in a way that tells you he’s now a little nervous.

“Not that I don’t appreciate our playful banter, but that one, uh, seemed a little hostile.” He observes with a furrowed brow. You choke back another mouthful of your drink, eyes shifting to admire the high, open shelved liquor cabinets that line the wall behind the bar. The shiny different colors of glass and alcohol give you something else to focus on for the moment, while you steel yourself for the night ahead.

Or maybe you should just head home.

“Did it?” You ask casually, unable to keep the bitter edge out of your tone. You can feel Dick’s burning eyes on you, and know that he’s already analyzing your emotional state with his well-versed detective skills.

“What’s up, (Y/N/N)?” He begins quietly, “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

The concern is back in that searching gaze of his when you turn to look at him, his eyes so honestly earnest and deeply worried and beautifully blue as he leans towards you—goddamnit how can a person even have eyes like that, it’s unfair—that you not only lose your breath for a second, but the entirety of your precariously constructed iron will. So, now it’s also unfair how fast you find yourself forgiving him for his appalling tardiness, just leaving you happy that he’s finally here now.

The things you go through for this man.

You sigh and deflate, leaning the rest of the way into him to press your check against his shoulder. The fabric of his dark blue jacket is smooth and cool against your skin.

"I know, Dick, I--It’s just…been one of those days. I’m sorry."

Dick drops his chin to the top of your head, releasing a shuddering breath that tells you he’s just as exhausted as you are. "I know what you mean. But I'll have you know that I was just trying to be adorable."

"You don't have to try." You say with a laugh, almost tipping right off the bar stool when he abruptly pulls back from your body to flash you a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at him, "I mean you don't have to try so hard around me.”

“Oh?”

Dick reaches behind you for your drink. He brings it up to his lips, watching you over the rim as he takes a long sip. You poke his chest with a teasing smile, coyly arching a brow in challenge.

“No matter what you do or say for the rest of your life, I'm always going to see that tiny 13 year old boy who not once, but twice, answered the door to the manor half asleep, humming some old ABBA song, and wearing nothing but those majestic little black and blue Batman ‘undies. You know…the ones with the glittery gold bat signals on the butt?"

Dick definitely remembers.

He sputters instantly, a clear, resounding yes, choking on the burning liquid with a grimace. His reaction makes you laugh harder than ever before (yeah, you’re definitely not going home yet, you kind of really needed this). Dick swallows a desirable amount of air into his lungs in one gasping breath, quickly depositing your drink back onto the bar. He playfully narrows his eyes at you, reaching out to firmly clamp his hand over your mouth when you go to say something else. You’re sure he can feel the undeniable way your lips curl into a triumphant smirk underneath the skin of his palm.

“You said you’d never bring that up ever again.”

You reach up to grip his wrist, drawing the offending hand away from your mouth so you can speak. “I lied.” You counter, humming in amusement as you recall the hilarious image of a very mortified boy wonder making a dash for the manor’s grand staircase—bat signals sparkling under the lights of the hall. Ah, the memories.

“By the way, do you still have those?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

Dick straightens, sets his hands on his hips, and smirks, staring down at you thoughtfully. His eyes dart to look out over the crowd still gathered around the stage, and then at the people lingering closer to the bar, gears turning behind his gaze when he catches sight of Joey rinsing out empty beer glasses at the bar’s sink. "Hmmm I guess I'll have to try harder then." He says a little too casually for your liking.

And with that you suddenly feel something horrible creeping up over the horizon, the changing winds of which it wrought bringing a chill so foreboding in its wake. Meaning he was irrefutably planning…well, something, and you were screwed (trapped by social convention and the sacred promises of ride-and-die friendship law to participate in whatever it was, curse it all). But there was also no way you were letting that smug face win tonight without some sort of fight. So you simply stare him down as well.

"Do your worst, Fingerstripes."

"I will."

You scoff and pick up your nearly-empty glass again, "Then I'm really going to need to finish this drink first."

"Nope." He merely says, plucking the glass right back out of your hands despite your protests, and then he’s moving it to sit behind him—despairingly far from your reach. You pout at him like the sophisticated young adult you are.

"No?" You question unhappily.

"We're going to do something else first."

He lifts his hand to get Joey’s attention, the bartender sauntering over within a moment to warmly greet another one of his favourite regulars. Dick claps both hands over your ears then and leans in over the bar top to speak quietly to him, ignoring the way you squirm and curl your fingers under his palms to try and wrench them away from your head. But his hold is strong and your attempts are fruitless. Joey only nods once Dick finally finishes and releases your head, grinning at you mischievously from behind the bar.

You eye the both of them suspiciously, "I don't like that look in your eyes, Grayson."

Dick’s smile is nothing but charming as he pulls you to your feet, “It’ll be good, I promise. Besides…you need to loosen up.”

“I am loose—wow that came out wrong.” You wince, already knowing Dick’s mind went straight to the worst place imaginable with that little slip up, especially when you hear him snort in laughter. What a dirty boy. “Hey! Don’t you dare start laughing at me, you asshole, I didn’t mean—stop it. Dick!” You whine, and your friend only laughs louder.

“Was that a Freudian slip?”

“You’re a Freudian slip!” You retort without any real malice, shoving at his shoulder in embarrassment. “Ugh, that’s it, I’m out. I’m still too sober for this.”

His sets his hands on your shoulders when you go to turn away, keeping you still and somehow managing to sooth you considerably, thumbs rubbing gentle, tiny circles into the dips between your collarbones. “My point remains. You’re stressed. I’m stressed. We can release that stress together.”

You squint at him in disbelief, “For the sake of our fucking friendship, I am maintaining that I heard absolutely nothing come out of your mouth within the last 10 seconds.” You pause, smirking and tilting your head in mock curiosity. “But I do have to know one very important thing before we move on with our lives....did Wally teach you that line?”

He rolls his eyes, and doesn’t answer the question.

Oh my god, Dick.

“Come on, get traught and follow me.” He practically sings. And now that should have been your first clue. He takes your hand and starts dragging you through the crowd around the stage, circling around tables and weaving in between groups of people in such a roundabout path, that it throws you off any possible trail of where he might be leading you.

“Where are we going?”

“Need to know basis.”

“I need to know.”

“Just wait a second.”

And then you realize exactly what he’s planned when you both tumble out of the crowd and come face to face with a nightmare just waiting to happen. You stare at the now empty, mocking stage with wide eyes, gaze zeroing in on the lone mic stand. The silver metal glints under a circle of white light and you yank your hand free from Dick’s grip in a bout of panic. Fucking NO.

“Dick—”

“It’ll be good, I promise.”

You might just stomp your foot a little, “No, absolutely not, there is no way in demon-shitting hell I am getting up on that stage. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming.” You threaten seriously, taking a few steps back.

“Oh, come on, it’s not going to be that ba—”

“I’d rather die.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. He reaches out to take your hand again—his touch never failing to calm you—and squeezes it in reassurance. And then he’s drawing you back towards him, his smile soft and kind and all sorts of crazy attractive. You let him throw his arm around your shoulders, and he leans in to mutter. “Dramatics aside, how about we make a deal.”

It’s a trap and you know it. But the fondness and playful determination in his eyes intrigues you enough to throw caution to the wind.

“What kind of deal?” You ask slowly, brows furrowed as you gauge his expression.

Dick gestures to the stage with a flourish of his hand, “I get up there first, and, uh, hmm—averagely bring the house down with my sweet, teen popstar voice—” You heave an exasperated sigh at that, and Dick begins to guide you towards an open seat near the front, continuing his proposal eagerly. “—and then you go up there and smoke me.”

“You know I’m not a very good singer, Dick.” You remind him, refusing to sit just yet as you maul over his words. He waves away your worries, increasing pressure on your shoulders until your lowering your body into the heavy wicker chair.

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll still be amazing, and more importantly it’ll be fun. Now, sit.”

“I’m not a dog.” You scoff, glaring up at him as you slump back and cross your arms.

“Oh, I know, you definitely don’t have to tell me that. I’ve already decided a long time ago that you’re more like a whining, middle school child.”

“Says the edgy, bird-themed child.”

Dick leans down awful close, hands gripping the arms of the chair so that you’re caged in and can’t make any last minute escapes. “I love how you get me.” He quips in answer.

“I’m going to regret this.” You groan, a hand pressed to your forehead in frustration. Damn him and his damn smile. “Fine, go, get on with it.” You relent.

“You’re going to love it.”

“And you’re going to have to convince me.”

“Challenge accepted.” He declares smugly.

With that, Dick shrugs out of his jacket to uncover the plain gray tee underneath, the hem of which is smoothly tucked into his jeans. He tosses it to you as he turns and bounces up the three steps to get onto the stage, striding towards the mic with purpose. You grumble as your bunch the jacket in your lap, fingers tangling in the fabric to ground yourself from the creeping nervousness you feel.

He slips the mic from the stand and steps a few feet to the edge of the platform, a single spotlight following him as he brings the mic up to his mouth. His voice resonates through the room, strong and enthusiastic. He’s ready to put on a show, and you’re just about ready to sink into the floor and disappear from this situation altogether.

“Hello, everyone! I think I’m going to—” He gestures to someone at the back of the crowd (you have a sneaking suspicion that Joey is now playing his part in all of this and—yeah, there he was, tapping away at the tiny square remote clenched in his fist as he makes a beeline towards the DJ booth and the young goth-inspired girl seated behind it) and the main lights in the bar immediately dim.

Dick’s surely gotten everyone’s attention now.

People quiet as they turn to watch him, and he sweeps his gaze across them as though deciding on how to properly entertain. “—slow it down a little now if you don’t mind,” Dick continues unhurriedly. “I have to admit...I don’t usually do this kind of thing very often, but as it turns out, I was double-dog dared to get up here—” (what a little shit) “—and sing a song for you all tonight. And I’m never one to back down from a challenge. That being said, I’d like to dedicate this little number to someone special—right here in this very audience. (Y/N)? Can you see me? No? That was a no, folks. Can I get a light down there? Yes—a little, yes! Right there. Perfect, perfect. Can you see me now?”

You blink quickly in the sudden harsh light washing down upon you, a second spotlight now trained on you intently. You glare up at him, “Unfortunately.”

There are laughs from the people around you, and Dick—all show-business now—sends you a teasing wink. “And you tell me to stop flirting.”

You try and glare harder at him, but you don’t think its working. He seems to understand all the same though, throwing up a hand in mock defense. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

The pretty guitar of an acoustic song fills the silence right on cue.

And then he opens his mouth to sing.

I know it's ugly turning on the news There's people fighting over point of view Sometimes it's like there's nothing left to lose And I don't know what to do But I know it's better with you

Dick moves to sit on the top step of the stage as he continues, refusing to break eye contact with you for even a second. And, huh, you’re not sure why your heart is trying to escape from your chest all of sudden.

I was a wreck when you came along When there was nothing left You showed me the best I'm still a mess but you hold on Don't know just why you do But I know I'm better with you

But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you

Okay, you were not expecting to feel this way—dizzy and confused and slightly embarrassed—or for him to stare at you as intently as the spotlight on you both. But you find yourself liking it regardless of your feelings on the situation—just entirely awed at the talent of your friend. You knew he could sing, sure, but damn, it never fails to surprise you.

And make you smile.

For every laugh there is a silent cry For every day there is a darker night Sometimes this life doesn't treat us right And I don't know what to do But I know it's better with you

He rises to his feet with something like fire in his eyes, drawn with an invisible string down the remaining steps and short distance to where you sit, and you wonder why this all seems so personal all of a sudden—like he’s earnestly trying to say something and nothing all at once. You follow his movement with a confused tilt of your head.

I was a wreck when you came along When there was nothing left You showed me the best I'm still a mess but you hold on Don't know just why you do But I know I'm better with you

But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you

There’s a brief interlude in the song, guitar ringing pleasantly in your ears.

It’s just as Dick reaches you—but he doesn’t stop moving—climbing up onto the table you’re closest to with a grace that you’ve only seen in action a handful times. The people around it scatter much to your amusement, pushing their chairs back to give him more room, and he lowers himself to sit at the edge facing you, legs hanging off to freely swing. What a dramatic dork, you think fondly. He hunches over to take one arm of your chair, tugging you around to better see him and then closer still to where he’s now perched. The spotlights follow you both closely, various gasps from the crowd making your face burn hot.

Wherever you are, it's never as dark Whenever I start slipping, you make all the difference Been there from the start, no matter how hard Whatever piece is missing, you know how to fix it

I was a wreck when you came along When there was nothing left You showed me the best I'm still a mess but you hold on Don't know just why you do But I know I'm better with you

But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you

The music finishes and fades out into another moment of silence, the bar eerily quiet as people watch on in anticipation for…something to happen. But nothing does. Well, besides you staring at him, too afraid to say anything and break the spell that’s shrouded the two of you in a peaceful sort of daze. For that moment, you think you can see it—a dance of muddled emotions in his expression that tells you he feels it to, that ever present connection that runs deep in your bones, and now he’s trying to make sense of it. Just like you’ve been attempting to do for days.

And then the corners of his lips lift up into that beautiful, kind smile that squeezes your heart, any knots of tenseness in the atmosphere unwinding into the familiar reality of the bar, and he’s pulling the mic away from his mouth with a grin so boyish and blissful it makes your toes curl in your boots. Okay, so, evidently those ‘certain’ feelings you’d been hesitantly circling around for weeks like a frightened, wild animal are still as strong as ever. And you can’t help but hope that this soft, new affectionate glint in his eyes reveals a hidden truth—that this particular moment means something more to him too.

The main bar lights get brighter again, the spotlights sliding back to train on the stage instead of on the pair of you. He leans towards you from his spot on the table, so only you can hear what he says next through the light applause that picks up around the room—once people realize that the show is indeed over.

“So, was I able to convince you?” He questions still smiling, swinging his legs on either side of you as he waits expectantly for your answer. You take a deep breath, slipping right back into easy banter when you crack a smile of your own.

“You’ve intrigued me.”

Dick nods with a chuckle that envelopes you in warmth, tapping the mic gently against your nose. “Mmmm good—because now it’s your turn.”

You freeze.

“Ah, crap.”

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