#also i considered adding text to this but i figured most of these would be easily known by zade shippers

[bxtchycaprisun]

let it be me | a. anderson ONE-SHOT

summary: you’d been avoiding your best friend for weeks, and she was determined to figure out what was wrong. she never would have guessed your absence was due to your repressed romantic feelings, which she also happened to share.

notes: fem!reader, bsf!abby, softdom!abby, porn w/ a plot, mutual pining, friends to lovers, angst but in a fluffy way, SMUT, fingering (both receiving), pussy eating (r!receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk, lots of pet names, i think that’s it? 

a/n: i know this isn’t obstinate, but it’s wlw season and i’m WOMANLESS, so i needed to write some smut.

MDNI!!! sexual content. comment if you want to be added to my tag list

(named after the ray lamontagne song)

you and abby never fought.

attached at the hip from the start of elementary school, the two of you were never seen without each other. and as new friend groups came and left, you and abby always stayed inseparable.

you were so close that she’d even followed you out of state to your dream university after you’d graduated high school.

despite the feelings that emerged in your early teen years when abby had grown taller, and the impact of her various high school sports was clear on her toned arms, you never dared to express your changing perspective of her.

other than some consistent cuddling most friends would consider crossing a boundary, the lines of your friendship never thought to cross between platonic and romantic. you figured that if she were to ever return your feelings, she would have by now.

and even though you two were only friends, in a way, she was yours, and you were hers.

or at least, that’s how you saw it.

that was until you saw her out with angela, her chem partner who you’d heard her complain about dozens of times, a girl you thought she hated. and they were drinking coffee and eating pastries at the east campus cafe, you and abby’s cafe.

and though you knew your perception of your relationship was nothing but a fantasy, it almost felt like a betrayal to see her like that with someone else. but of course, you couldn’t actually be mad at her for it, nor would you explain what was making you so upset.

so you did the one thing you thought was logical, you avoided her.

knowing that she would see right through you from the beginning, and demand that you tell her what was wrong, you tried to be strategic about it.

but you couldn’t a thing past your best friend, the girl who knew you like the back to your hand.

and you had no idea what you were in for if you continued your fit.

…

it had been two weeks since you sent abby the text, and now, as she laid belly down on her crammed dorm bed, she was rereading it.

y/n: oh my god abs, i’ve got the worst week coming up everrr. hannah scheduled me like double the hours i’ve asked for and i’ve got two exams! fmlllll

abby: damn, i’m sorry bun. still room for me in that schedule of yours?

y/n: you know it abby. text you later, off to work

the conversation didn’t worry abby much initially. but looking back on it, she saw it in a different light.

you didn’t make time for her. and she was determined to know why.

abby sat up in her bed, furrowing her brows as she remembered the date. it was a wednesday.

she opened back up her texts, quickly typing out her message.

abby: what time you coming over tonight? it’s october, so we can officially make our movie nights halloween dedicated :)

she pursed her lips worriedly as she awaited your response. she had been shot down daily over the last couple of weeks, always given the same excuse. work, exams, stomach flu, etc.

abby knew something was up, she just needed one final confirmation.

y/n: shit, i totally forgot! i promised i’d take my coworkers closing shift since she opened for me. next wednesday i promise!

abby felt her heart sink, the situation becoming all too real and unavoidable. you were angry at her, and she didn’t have a clue why.

she scrambled out a message, quickly pressing send and biting the inside of her cheek as she watched the unchanging screen.

abby: are you mad at me? please tell me what i did, and i’ll fix it

she watches with a tight chest as the bubble of your response appears and disappears. and as ten minutes pass with no text back, she throws her phone down on the bed, groaning into her hands.

if it had been anyone else, she’d assume you were just busy at work. but this was you.

abby sprung up from the bed, throwing on a jacket and slipping her feet swiftly into her beat up sneakers. the sneakers you’d bought her for her 16th birthday.

she swung open the door, grabbing her things and moving swiftly down the stairs and out her dorm hall. she tucked her hands under her arms, pulling her hoodie over her head as she walked through the breezy fall air.

she rounded the familiar block and pushed into the entrance of your dorms.

and before she could think twice, she brought her fist up to your door, banging loudly with her other hand stuffed in her pocket.

“open the door!” she says sternly, already hearing your movement in the dorm.

you pull the door open with a displeased grunt, but as you recognize the rosy cheeked girl in front of you, your eyes widen.

“a-abby?” you stutter, staring up at her with a guilty expression.

she stares at you, taking in your loose sweats and braless tank. you weren’t at work, and you certainly weren’t getting ready.

after a long pause, the reality of the situation setting in, abby speaks up.

“you lied.” she murmurs, her voice low.

you cast your gaze down, stepping back to let her in silently. you knew you weren’t gonna get out of this one.

she shoves her way into your room, shutting the door loudly and pulling her hood off to look down at you disapprovingly.

“so,” she huffs, throwing her arms up and crossing them against her chest. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

you sigh, pinching your temples. “nothings… nothings going on i just-” you begin before being cut off abruptly.

“nothings going on?” she repeats desperately, “y/n, you’ve avoided me for weeks!”

“i- i haven’t avoided you,” you reply breathlessly, stepping forward. “i’ve been really busy.”

“oh right, busy,” she scoffs, “just like how you’re so busy right now?”

you bow your head silently, avoiding her burning gaze. “i- i can explain..” you say slowly, although you sure as hell didn’t want to.

“great!” she snaps, “good, let’s hear it.” she shifts her weight back and forth on her legs, her figure now trembling with anger and desperation.

you look up at her with pleading eyes, trying to find away to avoid this conversation if you had any hope of keeping your friendship the same.

you were so disappointed with yourself you felt like you could cry. for years you’d stuffed your feelings down, terrified not just of rejection but of your own selfishness.

abby was the perfect friend, she was everything you could ask for and more, and yet your inconsiderate mind desired more. and when she didn’t give that to you, you pushed her away.

abby watched your expressions alter, staring at you with her mouth agape. “well?” she asks in a final, breathless plea.

when she doesn’t get a response, her mind jumps to the only conclusion she could think of.

“you’re… you’re seeing someone?” she whispers, her face falling.

your expression twists in confusion and frustration at her accusation, shaking your head fervently. “what? what are you talking about?”

“you are, aren’t you?” she presses on, taking a step forward.

you roll your eyes at the irony of her words. “no okay, i’m not seeing anyone,” you huff, the attitude clear in your voice. “you’re the one that’s seeing someone,” you murmur, back turned to your best friend. your eyes widen at your own words, cursing yourself for letting that slip.

you hear abby’s breath falter behind you. “what?” she asks, voice somewhat amused which annoyed the hell out of you. “did you say i’m seeing someone?”

despite knowing how childish you were being, you narrow your eyes, continuing on with your antics.

“well you are, aren’t you?” you say with a pout, tilting you chin up at her.

at this, abby laughs at you. “y/n… are you talking about angela?” she says with a smirk. “i’ve been trying to tell you about that, so much happened!” she exclaims and you nearly feel like breaking down then and there.

your expression drops, lips curling into a proper frown as you turn away from her once again. she stutters as she sees your change in demeanor.

“yeah right, i’d just love to hear all about angela,” you mutter, unable to meet her piercing blue eyes.

“no no.. it was bad, okay, it was really bad,” she chuckles, rushing over to grab your arms and turn you to face her. but as she takes in your distressed expression, abby’s mouth hangs open, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place in her mind.

“hey, hey, what is it?” she cooes, her voice softened as she brings her hand to cup the side of your face, stroking your cheek.

when you don’t respond once again, her back straightens, and she drops her hands from your skin, staring down at you in contemplation.

“you’re… you’re jealous,” she says quietly, her words laced with certainty.

you shake your head, stepping back from her with worry as she figured it out. “no, why the hell would i be jealous?” you heave, but abby doesn’t let you get away.

“because you like me,” she asserts once again, hands going for your wrists as she reaches out to you.

“hey, look at me, hey..” she brings her face close to yours, lowering to your height. your arms go limp in defeat as she holds you still, grabbing your chin gently to make you look at her.

as she studies your face, the way your eyes crease with uncertainty, she knows.

“you do..” she whispers.

the only thing you can do is drop your head in shame, praying silently that she would agree to just forget this conversation completely and return to your blissful friendship.

your murmur is nearly inaudible as a small “i’m sorry,” passes through your lips.

abby inhales sharply, taking your cheeks into your hands and lifting your head to face hers in a quick motion.

“oh sweet girl… don’t be sorry..” she breathes, brushing her thumb over your bottom lip.

she stares at you for a moment, chest heaving with her uneven breathes, contemplating the same action she’d been dreaming of for years. the action she never thought she’d get the opportunity of doing.

and just as your eyes meet hers, they flutter shut to the feeling of her lips pressing against yours.

you sigh against her, the tension easing from your muscles as she guides you gently against the door, running her hands desperately, yet hesitantly over your arms and shoulders.

the touch, the way her lips gently parted yours, her tongue rolling into your mouth with a soft hum, it was foreign, yet so painfully familiar.

this was abby. your abby. the girl who had been attached to your hip for a decade. the girl you had convinced yourself never to kiss and never confess to out of fear of ruining your perfect friendship.

and you couldn’t be happier as she did it for you.

you bring your arms around her broad shoulders, pulling her against you as your noses clashed together in a desperate kiss, her hands getting rougher and more curious, and so do yours. you tug her hoodie up over her head, touching her chilled skin from the cool fall air outside.

you feel her calloused palm reach below your shirt, grazing the soft skin on your belly, inching upward to your unclothed breast. you feel her hand suddenly stop, her mouth pulling away from yours.

“abby-” you call out her name in a slight moan, digging your fingers into her hair and tugging on her braid. you knew what she was thinking. you knew she thought she was rushing things, but you didn’t care. you’d waited so long.

“i know.. i know..” she nods, eyes nearly shut as she peers down at you, leaning in again to kiss you, slowing her rhythm and taking her time with you.

you whine into her mouth, brows furrowing as you grabbed her hand, trying to pull it towards your chest once again, and she chuckles against your lips.

“so needy,” she smiles, but with how shaky her voice is, she sounds almost hypocritical.

“neglected you for so long, huh?” she grins, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

even though abby hadn’t had many relationships or sexual partners, mostly thanks to her hopeless pining towards you, she was undeniably more experienced than you.

you could feel the hesitance in her fingertips, the uncertainty in her eyes. knowing she didn’t want to rush you, you grab her cheek, pulling her lips away to speak.

“then don’t make me wait any longer,” you whisper, eyes looking up at her pleadingly as your thighs squeezed together, desperately trying to relieve the ache between your legs.

abby smiles, not missing a beat to crash her lips to yours once again, and this time her hand travels up your chest without hesitation. you whine as you feel her thumb brush over your nipple, and arch your back against the wall.

she dips her head down to your neck, peppering kisses along your throat, and sucking soft marks onto your skin. she groans as she hears your quiet moans, feeling like she could cum on the spot. she’d envisioned how you would sound so many times, but to actually hear it was so much better.

“you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” she hums, large palms needing your tits as she pushes your legs apart with her knee, and slots her thigh in between them. “sound so fucking pretty”

your face is red and hot as you let out a quiet whimper in response, grabbing on to her toned stomach to pull her closer. as you feel the friction of her muscular thigh against your clothed cunt, you absentmindedly grind yourself against her.

“there you go, sweetheart,” abby praises you, hands leaving your tits to hold onto your hips. she gently guides you against her propped leg, and leaves small love bites below your ear as she whispers to you. “tell me if we’re going too fast, okay? you tell me.”

you shake your head, hips picking up their rhythm as you try to chase that sensation that slowly builds in your cunt. “not too fast, abs. i want more, please?”

normally, you would care about sounding too desperate, but since this was abby, you couldn’t hold back. even in this unfamiliar situation, you were comfortable with her. and even more importantly, you needed her so bad.

“you want more, huh baby?” she cooes, smiling ear to ear as she helps you keep up your pace. suddenly, her hands push your hips back off of her, and you whine in disappointment. before you can protest the loss of contact, she brings her hands to the hem of your tank top, pulling it off your chest in a swift motion.

her palms return to your waist, guiding you quickly against your small bed, her lips instantly connected with yours once again. she pushes you gently down, situating herself between your legs, and hooking a finger at the hem of your sweatpants.

the fabric is tugged down to your ankles in seconds, and she tosses the pants across the room with a shit eating grin. you can’t help but look up and giggle at her as she crawls on the bed to meet you, kissing up your stomach and on the fat of your chest.

“whatcha laughing about, pretty girl?” abby smirks as she sucks hickeys onto your skin. she tried her best to sound stern, but she couldn’t help but melt as she heard your laugh.

“nothing, this is just weird,” you can’t help but admit with blushed cheeks. “i just… never imagined we would be doing this..”

“oh?” abby says with faux surprise, “so you’re telling me… you didn’t imagine me doing this?” she asks mischievously as she takes on of your nipples into her mouth, sucking gently.

you’re breathing falters and you let out a small gasp, handing falling the the back of her head as she runs her tongue over your hardening nipple. “n-no i mean… i imagined it… just didn’t think we actually ever would.”

abby smiles against your skin, kissing her way down your stomach and settling between your thighs. “what would you imagine, bun?” she asks teasingly as she kisses just above your underwear. “would you picture me doing this to you? dream about my mouth on your cunt?”

with that statement, abby drops in between your legs, pressing her face against your panties and inhaling dirtily. she shakes her nose against your clothed pussy, nudging your clit deliciously. you cry out into your hand, instantly squirming from her touch.

you felt her start to kitten lick your clint through the fabric, causing you to let out an deep whine. you lift your head with hazy eyes, listening to her soft growls against you, which only made your stomach whir.

“abby pl-ease,” you say brokenly, desperately bucking your hips upward to chase the friction you needed, “stop teasing me…”

“m’not teasing…” she mumbles, her voice low as she runs her tongue flat against your underwear, applying pressure to your folds.

“a-ah, please!” you moan, feeling your cunt gush with more arousal.

“you are teasing me, you are-” you begin your protest when she suddenly yanks your panties down from your hips, and before you can process it, her hot mouth is licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

you release a borderline pornographic moan at the sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head. she doesn’t waist any time to start sucking at your clit with vigor, and alternating to lap up your juices.

you’re nearly shaking at this point, your chest heaving with every breath and hips twitching from every touch she gives you.

“fuck- i love the way you taste bun…” abby moans into your pussy, her hands keeping a bruising grip on your waist. “knew you’d taste good.. so fucking good…”

she already sounds pussy drunk as she flattens her tongue against your clit, helping you grind your hips against her mouth however you wanted. you continuously tried to close your legs around her head, completely overwhelmed by how good she was fucking you, but each time her palm would catch your leg, only pulling you further apart.

“gotta stop squirming, baby,” abby would growl as your thighs continued to tremble and your arms would thrash around aimlessly. you respond with an apologetic whine, already too cloudy minded to form words.

when you continue to move in her grip, she finally pushes your knees against your chest, keeping you firmly pinned with your cunt fully exposed for her.

“look at that…” abby cooes as she gives your pussy a small slap before dipping her mouth back down to your hole, lapping you up quickly.

“how many fingers you want, sweet girl?” she breaks away from your cunt to ask you breathlessly, before returning to suck at your clit.

you whimper from the added pressure of the position, head falling weakly against the pillow as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“ngh.. don’t know… o-one..?” you manage to muster, but you can’t already feel yourself tipping over the edge. anything abby gave you, you would take.

“hmm…” abby smiles against your pussy, keeping your legs pushed up with one hand while bringing the other down to slide through your folds.

you groan as you feel the tips of her fingers prodding at your hole, unconsciously pushing yourself against them. “we can do two…” she whisper as she slowly inserts her middle and ring finger into your pussy, hissing through her teeth as she feels you clench around her.

“relax baby… it’s only me,” she comforts you as she curls her fingers experimentally inside of you. you let out a soft cry, back arching against your mattress as she explores your insides.

abby watches your expression carefully, her tongue giving your clit small, stimulating licks as she searched for the spot that made you scream.

when she felt the spongy area deep in your core, and watched as you jolted against her fingers, panting out a moan, she knew she found it. she gave you one last lick, collecting the juices that leaked around her fingers on her tongue, she crawled up to your face with her fingers still deep inside of you.

her strokes were slow and gentle at first, teasing that spot with an almost unbearable pace. her eyes met yours and she positioned herself above you, but her pupils were darkened.

“i want to go harder,” she whispers, her voice low and full of lust. “can i do that, bun, can i go harder?”

you nod and quickly, grabbing onto her neck and pulling her lips against yours, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue. “please… so close..”

she didn’t need to hear another word before her pace turned from gentle to hammering. the air is punched out of you as she drills her fingers into your pussy, curling upward and hitting that spot with every thrust.

you were crying and moaning out her name, grabbing onto anything you could as she continued her rough assault on your hole. obscene squelches from your pussy fill the room, and your face blooms from embarrassment.

abby kisses you sweetly, in sharp contrast to the brutal pace of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her, hoping for a bit of her comfort to ground you in this moment. she immediately recognizes your need, bringing her forehead against yours as she fingered you.

“that feel good baby? yeah?” she whispers, her voice sultry as her palm rubs perfectly against your clit.

“m’gonna cum.. abby.. oh my god,” you cry out, fingernails digging into her back without even realizing. she clenched her teeth, the stinging pain only enhancing her desperation.

“that’s it sweet girl..” she mumbles, her pace unbreaking. “cum on my fucking fingers- let it out.”

without missing a beat, you feel your hearing practically go out, white hot pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm crashes down on you. you shake, mouth open in a silent moan as you ride out your high, abby’s fingers never ceasing. your final sound comes out in a shattered moan, your eyes rolled back as you grind your hips into her fingers, feeling the best high of your life.

“good girl…” abby praises, her fingers slowing down even so slightly as she watches your expression.

“good. fucking. girl.” she finishes, her pace coming to a stop as she feels you tense up from the overstimulation.

you fall against the mattress, your face completely red from your post-orgasm, and your chest heaving with every breath. abby takes her fingers out of you, shoving them into her mouth and licking them clean.

you watch her in amazement as she lowers down to your face, pressing her lips against yours gingerly. you smile against her, pulling her closer by your shoulders until she practically falling on top of you.

“y/n,” abby giggles, trying to remain propped up from her elbows. “i’m gonna crush you!”

“don’t care,” you shake your head with a wide grin.

she smiles, kissing you again, but this time with a little bit more desperation. her tongue slips past your lips, massaging the inside of your mouth.

you tug on the waist band of her sweats, looking up at her with a pout. “take ‘em off,” you whine.

abby smirks at your plea, shaking her head. “so bossy,” she mumbles, pulling down her pants and tossing them aside. you instantly spring up on your knees, smashing your lips against hers.

abby flinches a bit, startled by how quickly your fingers find their way to the waistband of her boxers. you yank them down her muscular thighs, diving your much smaller fingers between her folds as you kiss her sweetly.

“woah- baby,” abby breathes, her voice almost failing her as she grabs onto your wrist. “what’re you doing?”

“returning the favor, silly,” you grumble against her lips, smiling as you feel just how wet she is. “i think i got you a little excited,” you giggle.

“no.” abby shakes her head firmly, “you’re not the one that gets to tease me.” she tries to sound stern, but the shake in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

it wasn’t often that abby was on the receiving side. but staring down at you, with your eyes blown wide staring at her dripping cunt, she couldn’t help but grow just as desperate. she needed this too.

you palm her aching pussy, watching in awe as she bucked her hips against you, bringing her hands up to clutch the headboard. you hold your breath to surpress your own moans at the sight, wanting to only hear her soft sighs and the dirty sounds of her wetness.

“fuck… yeah like that,” abby groans, head falling back, and her knees trembling as she stays upright for you, not even realizing how she’s furthering spreading her thighs, and grinding into your palm.

she felt herself getting red the moment she realized she was already about to cum. but the pleasure was too consuming, and she was too pent up to feel any embarrassment.

the second you slipped your middle finger into her folds, your thumb instantly finding her clit, she toppled over the edge. she released a strained moan, instantly falling against you. she props herself up on the headboard to keep up her weight, and lets her head fall into your neck. she brings one hand down to cover yours, keeping your palm in place as she practically humps your fingers. she rides out her orgasm in shuddering breathes.

you watch her in shock and awe, remaining silent as she started to come down. she pulls your hand away, burying her face further into your neck with a deep sigh.

“did you just..” you begin, and she could practically hear your smile.

“yes..” she groans, rolling her face towards yours and pressing her lips at the base of your throat.

your grin widens as you stare up at the ceiling, stroking her back carefully. abby lifts her head, and secures her arms around your waist.

in a quick movement, you are rolled on top of her, your legs intertwined. she holds you tight to her chest, kissing the top of your head affectionately. you blush as you feel the stickiness between both your legs.

“we’re a mess,” you say softly, smiling up at her.

“leave it for now,” she whispers, fingers tracing shapes on your bare back. “wanna stay like this for a minute.”

you lay there in silence, listening to each others slowing breaths. and in that moment, you knew this was what it was supposed to be all along.

abby’s words come out in a content hum, her fingers affectionately pinching at the soft fat below your ass.

“sorry for making you wait so long, sweet girl.”

“you’re forgiven.”

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson fic #abby anderson one shot

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter six

summary: you go to luca's place for the first time and talk about what you might want to be.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3.8k

listen to: the playlist is finally ready, though no promises that i won't add to it down the line! you can listen here.

a/n: i have a busy week ahead of me so i wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible because leaving you guys with a kiss and no resolution is just cruel. that and i just can't get them out of my head. i promise that chapter two of 'don't want to walk alone' is coming. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part five | masterlist | part seven

Luca doesn’t work nights – not on Saturdays, anyway – his hours are boringly predictable, starting at five AM for his daily pastry prep, while the rest of the kitchen – the ones that work on the line at least, take his dishes all the way to the finish line. 

He feels lucky, as he makes his way home from your restaurant, that he doesn’t have to do the late night thing anymore. Most of his colleagues get off of work around two, maybe three AM, before the restaurant closes from Sunday to Tuesday, and he doesn’t miss that schedule one bit. 

He’s also feeling pretty lucky because he hadn’t expected his conversation with you to go the way it had. Luca thought he’d come to your restaurant in an attempt to mend things, to reassure you that you could be friends and that the two of you could take a few steps back. Really, he thought that it may be easier that way –  perhaps the most realistic expectations for him to have considering it didn’t seem like you were ready. 

But then you kissed him. 

And he really, really hadn’t expected that.  

It’s not that he doubted your feelings for him – he can’t imagine that you’d spend all of this time with him, make such an effort to keep in contact so frequently if you weren’t feeling the same way – but Luca felt like the message was loud and clear the night of the ballet when you’d rejected his ask to keep the night going. He couldn’t hold it against you. You had only been divorced for just under two years, but it didn’t take the sting out of it – not even a little bit. So Luca had come to the restaurant this evening, sure that your answer would be no again: that you weren’t ready, that you just needed to be friends – something he’s willing to, something he wants to be able to give to you.

Luca had agonized over it all yesterday, and most of today, really. He knew that you’d panicked on Thursday, and he was eager to reassure you that you had nothing to worry about when it came to him; he didn’t want you to have anything to worry about it when it came to him. So he pushes the thought to the back of his mind, that one day, maybe a friendship with you won’t be enough, but he figures at best, that it was a problem for a future version of him. 

But the kiss changed things – or at least he hopes it does. He knows he can’t force it, but god, does he want you to be ready. As Luca enjoys his walk home from your restaurant – one that’s quickly becoming a well-known neighborhood spot – he heads in the direction of his Norrebro flat, deciding that he’ll just embrace the joy for now; embrace the fact that you kissed him because it’s not like he can predict what happens next. 

He replays the moment over and over in his mind: the way that you kissed him when words failed you, the feeling of your lips on his, the way his heart fluttered as he moved in closer towards you so that he could kiss you back. 

Before he gets home, he’s got a text from you, confirming that it’s alright that you come over later and he’s quick to reply yes, sending his address along with a ‘just text me when you’re on your way.’ Luca spends a little time tidying up his place in anticipation of your arrival. He makes a quick dinner – something simple, easy, a childhood comfort bowl of aglio e olio – before putting something old and familiar on the telly for background noise. 

By the time he’s managed to settle in for the evening, it’s a few hours later, and a ping echoes through his Copenhagen flat, alerting him that he has a message. Luca glances over at his phone to see that it’s a message from you, letting him know that you’re on your way.

His heart skips a beat. Luca takes a breath, before setting his book to the side, and makes his way to the kitchen so that he can put on the kettle. 

-------------------------------

It only takes a few moments after knocking on his door that Luca answers, all smiles and nervous energy as you stand in his doorway, with a similar nervous energy. 

“Hi,” he greets you softly. 

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to keep your heart from melting. 

It’s now or never, sister, you think to yourself as words of encouragement. 

The soft golden light of his living room lamps bring a warmth to his already welcoming-persona, as you step inside. You’re not sure whether you should kiss him or not, the question hanging over both of your heads in a tenuous way, so instead, you let him pull you into his arms for a long hug. 

“I’m glad you came,” he begins, his lips moving against your hair. 

“Think I’d chicken out?” you chuckle in response, with your teasing question as you pull away from your hug. 

He laughs, locking his front door as he says back, “I… think that’s a trick question.”

“Fair enough,” you concede, because you’re not going to make him answer it anyways. 

The kettle he seems to have put on whistles, signaling that it’s ready, as Luca hurries towards his kitchen area in the open-concept space. You take this as a chance to look around his living area before you get to talking. 

“So this is your place,” you observe, speaking loudly enough that he can still hear you. 

“Uh, yeah,” he calls back to you as he fiddles with the knobs to his gas stove, cutting the heat. 

You hear him ask you how the restaurant was, how the night went, and you reply, exchanging small talk as you take in the scene. He’s got one of those places where everything has its place, everything has a home, yet it’s warm. Your eyes glaze over the grey couch that maybe seats three, that sits across from a simple, yet stylish coffee table. His bookshelf is bursting at the seams with cookbooks, copies of classic literature you grew up reading in school, and a photo of him and a woman that you can only assume is his mother. 

“Tea?” Luca asks you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Please,” you answer as you watch Luca moving around his kitchen. 

You take a seat towards the center of his couch, picking up one of his coffee table books so that you can flip through it. You run your fingers over the spine, making a note in your head that he seems to have a thing for trainers, examining Luca’s copy of Nike: Better Is Temporary that’s been thoughtfully placed on his coffee table. 

“How do you take it?” he continues, eyeing you carefully as you flip through his coffee table book. 

As you look up, your eyes easily find his, and there’s something in the way he looks at you, a coquettish glimmer that matches his crooked smile so well that it hurts, and it makes you glad that you’ve already made up your mind about what you want to happen after tonight. 

“Just a little honey,” you reply, watching as he drops a sugar cube in his own mug, adding a splash of milk. 

He hums along with the lo-fi hip hop playlist that plays softly in the background as he finishes up with both cups of tea, so comfortable in his own space – so comfortable around you. Holding tightly onto both mugs, Luca makes his way over to you placing your mug down on the coffee table in front of you. 

He smirks, glad that you’ve chosen to sit more towards the center of the couch and not at the opposite end, taking this as a good sign. You exchange a few more words back and forth, more of the ‘how are you’ and ‘how was your day’ and ‘what’ve you been up to’s’ as you drink your tea. 

Really, you’re just biding your time, dancing around the thing that you came here to talk about as you make small talk instead that seems to die out before it’s really had a chance to get anywhere. 

You and Luca settle into a pregnant silence once again, before you open your mouth to speak, mustering up the courage to be the first one to bring it up. 

“So,” you start, and all of a sudden you feel like a blushing schoolgirl with a silly crush all over again. 

“So,” Luca repeats, raising his mug to his lips before taking a sip. 

“You kissed me.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully, as you reach for your mug like it’s there for emotional support. 

“I kissed you, yeah,” you echo, unable to hide the way the corners of your lips turn up into a smile in response to your admission. “Did you… like… that I kissed you?”

“Oh, yeah. No, it was great,” Luca rallies, enthusiastic yet somewhat clumsy. 

“Yeah, that’s… great,” you reply, less than gracefully as well. “Why is this… so hard?”

“I don’t know, love,” he empathizes, his eyes soft as he embraces the awkwardness with open arms. 

The two of you exchange a look – one of ‘what the hell are we doing’ – and a quiet laugh acknowledging that you both feel quite silly. Your heart swells, and the fact that you feel joy instead of panic is a greenlight as you decide that you might as well speed through it before it has a chance to change. 

“Luca, I-,” you begin, giving yourself time to get the words you want to say out. “I meant what I said earlier – that I really like you – and I do. It’s just….” You pause, shifting your body so that you’re facing him as you confess:

“I sort of… haven’t really dated anyone… not since the divorce.”

“No one?”

You shake your head. 

“I just… I haven’t been ready. Haven’t met anyone that I was really all that interested in either until, well till you,” you explain, hoping that it doesn’t feel like you’ve just raised the stakes with your admission. 

“So does that mean… are you telling me… that you are – open to this, I mean?” he asks, hesitantly, because he really doesn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“Yes. I-, I want to be. I think… I won’t know if I don’t try, you know?” you answer honestly, desperately wanting to make it clear that your hesitancy has nothing to do with him, as you muster up the courage to declare with conviction:

“And I want to try. With you.”

Before Luca can get a word in, it’s almost as if your words get away from you. It’s funny, really, that earlier you didn’t have the words to express what you wanted to say, and now it seems like you have too many. 

“And I would understand if you decided that taking a chance on a ‘maybe’ didn’t work for you because…” you trail off, succumbing to the nervous rambling in your head as the words seem to tumble out of your mouth. 

“Because you deserve a sure ‘yes’ and I-, I think I’m still discovering what that looks like for me. I mean, this is uncharted territory. And like… what if I don’t know how to do this? What if I’ve entirely forgotten how to date? What if I’m bad at it?” 

Luca sets his now half-full mug down on the coffee table before shifting his body so that he’s now a few inches closer to you. 

“Then we’ll both be bad at it… at least for a little bit, until we find our footing, that is…” Luca assures you, placing his hands over yours as he moves one more inch closer to you. 

And then he says this next part with so much confidence that you’re halfway to believing it yourself. 

“...because, I think this might be something we could be really good at.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice caught in your throat as you find yourself completely overwhelmed by this man’s kindness, his patience, and his compassion. 

“Yeah,” he nods in response, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile. 

You pull your hands away, just for a moment, so that you can return your mug to the coffee table as well, scooting a little closer to him this time. 

“So… would this mean… that we’re seeing each other?” you ask, contemplating the weight of the words that make up your question. You watch him carefully, searching his face for a reaction as he nods slowly. 

“Yeah, I’d like to start. Seeing you, that is,” he answers, his hands reaching for yours once again. 

Taken aback by his answer – and that it could really be this simple – you nod, trying your best to process as you mutter:

“Okay, yeah. I think-. Okay.” 

“Are you panicking right now?” he asks you softly, a more playful tone in his voice as you chuckle, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“Yeahhhh, a little,” you confess on an exhale, only feeling a little silly. 

“It’s okay,” he says, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. As you open your eyes, you immediately catch his, and you swear you could get lost in how deep and blue they are. You’re sitting impossibly close to him, and it’s taking all of your self-restraint not to thoughtlessly dive in – your head and your heart at a standstill, unable to declare a clear winner. 

“The thing is…” Luca trails off as his eyes flicker from yours to your lips, leaning in. “I don’t think a lot has to change. We already spend so much of our time together.” 

You lean in towards him too, wanting nothing more than for your lips to be on his again. 

“And we can take it slow.” 

“I’m good with slow,” you whisper, leaning in a little closer. 

“I just need you to talk to me, alright? If you start freaking out again,” Luca requests, and you know it’s a perfectly reasonable ask. 

“I will,” you agree with a slight nod of your head. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, before continuing with your very important question of: 

“But not too slow?” 

Luca chuckles, and he can feel your breath against his lips as you speak, glad you’re thinking the exact same thing. 

“We’ll go at whatever pace feels right,” he declares, bringing a hand up to cup your face, dangerously close to you now as the two of you engage in a game of chicken. 

Luca could care less about who does what first, and he’s more than willing to light the match if that’s what it takes. His hand feels hot against your jaw and you can feel the anticipation between the two of you. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he practically growls, under his breath.

“Please,” you reply, before crashing your lips into his. 

This kiss is different than before – than earlier today outside of your restaurant. It’s no longer a first. And you no longer have curious onlookers, passersby on the street, or nosy best friends who can’t help eavesdropping to worry about. It only takes you a moment to react as you lean into him, deepening the kiss. Luca’s hands are warm against your body, cupping your face, while the other moves to your back, pressing you closer to him – something you’re more than happy to comply with. 

The kiss starts out slow, tentative, as Luca kisses you deeply, more than eager to pick up where you left off earlier, but this time with the confidence of knowing that time is on your side. Luca breathes you in as he sucks on your top lip, before pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips. Your hands slide over his shoulders, snaking one of your hands up and behind the back of his head as you savor the way he tastes like chamomile and mint. 

You’re reminded of how fun this is supposed to be – getting to know someone new, making out like horny teenagers, dating – as your tongue tangles with Luca’s, chasing his lips like your life depends on it. It’s as if all of your worries, all of your doom what-ifs disappear for a moment, when you allow yourself to relax and enjoy what’s happening. 

You said it earlier: you’ll only know if you try, and Luca – and the way you feel about him – really, really makes you want to try. 

You whimper as he pulls away, only to be pleasantly surprised as he begins nipping at your jawline, behind your ear, ghosting his lips across the bare skin of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin as he presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, earning something between a gasp and a laugh from you. You forget how to breathe for a moment with that way he’s kissing you, but when Luca returns his lips to yours, it’s as if he’s realized that it’d be all too easy to get carried away like a runaway train. 

He places a slow, gentle kiss to your lips that takes up a full beat, then moves to the tip of your nose, leaving a gentler, more playful kiss there that earns a giggle from your lips. Finally, he presses the softest kiss against your forehead – one that seems to say: 

I care about you. 

He’s left you completely and entirely breathless as you begin to blink your eyes open, reluctantly coming back down to Earth as you exhale a:

“Woah.”

“Big woah,” Luca echoes in agreement, as the two of you exchange a laugh again.

“In the name of ‘slow, but not too slow,’ I think this means I should probably go home tonight,” you say reluctantly. 

“I figured as much,” Luca replies, respectfully. 

“But… I’ll call you. Tomorrow. Maybe… we can have a coffee?” you propose, hopefully. 

“I’d really like that,” he agrees. 

You get up off the couch, as Luca offers to take your mug to the kitchen. You make sure you have all of your things on your way to his front door, before you stop, turning to him. 

“Thank you. For being so… understanding, so patient with me,” you say, because it really does mean a lot to you. 

“You make it easy, love. Get home safe,” he replies, kissing you one last time. 

-------------------------------

Like you promised, you call Luca first thing in the morning, unsure if he’s going to be up already. You assume so, considering he’s at work most mornings at 5 AM, but you figure it’s something you’ll learn about each other now that you’re seeing each other. 

Holy shit. 

You’re dating again. 

And this time, as it all hits you, you find yourself more excited than nervous about the idea of dating again. Of course, it’s not like you’ve eradicated every fear, every thought, every what-if you have about starting something new with someone new, but the fact that that someone new seems to be the source of your excitement. 

You don’t spend long on the phone – just an exchange of good mornings, of how’d you sleeps, of you’re on my minds – as the two of you make a plan. 

A proper, yet casual date. 

A coffee date, you suggest, just like you had last night. 

Slow, but not too slow. 

It seems a little silly, considering you’ve been on a date before, but you remind yourself that in the end that date went horribly awry, and that although you’ve been to coffee with Luca before, this time, it really is a date. 

You decide to meet up at a coffee shop in the City Centre, something about pistachio croissants and getting there before they sell out, and before you know it, he’s waiting for you outside of your place, ready to lead the way. 

As you approach the cafe that Luca’s gone on and on about all morning, you spot a certain familiar three people sitting at a table outside, enjoying their morning coffees. You watch as Jesper goes on, animatedly explaining, perhaps this week’s spiciest sexcapade to both Mathilde and her husband, on the edge of their seats. 

Jesper, though mid-story, is the first to notice you and Luca’s presence, waving an arm to grab your attention as soon as he sees you. 

“Hej! Great timing. We were just talking about the two you,” Jesper calls out, as both you and Luca approach the cafe table. 

“Well, well. Where are you two coming from?” Mathilde asks, a smug smirk on her face plastered to her face. “Looks like you two figured things out.”

“Mathilde!” you exclaim as her husband lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head incredulously at his wife. 

“My wife is a little bit cheeky – and alotta bit mischievous. You’ll have to excuse her from time to time,” the man says, extending a hand out towards Luca. “I’m Emil.”

“Luca. It’s nice to meet you,” Luca answers, as Mathilde shoots you a ‘you better call and tell me everything later’ look, as the boys exchange pleasantries.

Choosing to ignore her previous statement, you turn your attention to Jesper as you ask: “What’s going on?”

“Oh just having a little morning coffee, catching up on Jesper’s wild, single life… He’s trying to rope me and Emil into something this coming Saturday and I know that Emil’s planning on dragging me there whether I like it or not,” Mathilde jokes, playfully nudging her husband. 

“Jesper got put on the list for this club opening next weekend. We were just talking about who might like to join,” Emil explains simply. 

“That so?” you ask with a raise of an eyebrow in Mathilde’s direction. It’s a ‘how do I know that we are about to get dragged along with you’ kind of look, and Mathilde simply shrugs in return. 

“Jesper’s always getting invited to these kinds of things, so we tag along when we can keep up,” Mathilde explains, this time directing her explanation to the newest addition to the group, Luca. 

“Which is rare,” Jesper teases, earning a snort and an eye roll from his twin sister. Jesper turns his attention back to you and Luca with words of encouragement. “No, it’s perfect timing that we were just talking about you and then, here you are! A sign from the gods. You must come – the both of you!”

“I don’t usually work Saturday nights so,” Luca begins, glancing over in your direction to feel you out on Jesper’s request.

“I… could be up for it, yeah,” you answer, hesitantly as you send a small nod in response. 

“Great, it’s settled then. I’ll have them put you both on the list,” Jesper smiles an accomplished smile. 

You’re not sure what you’re getting into (and you’re sure that you’ll have to catch Luca up on Jesper’s wild adventures later), but right now, you think that maybe, you're entering a chapter of ‘yes.’

-------------------------------

a/n: are we doing okay?! did we love the makeout!? are we ready for smut?!? yes, yes, and yes?!

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

[carakook]

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“Yeah? You think we’re done? We’re not done.”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘6. Planting the Wrong Seed

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: You prepare to go to the potluck with Seojoon but find that your day is not going the way that you planned, thanks to a certain someone lingering in your thoughts… if only you knew the shit that was going to unfold.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 12k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of anxiety, mentions of sex, heavy kissing, angst, CANINE POETRY I REPEAT CANINE POETRY, religious metaphors (the story is not religious but makes references to a higher power, karma, fate, etc.), mentions of anxiety, mentions of nightmares, subtle arguing, jealousy, bullying? (Sort of, there’s a bitch in this chapter who makes cunty comments), mentions of alcohol, mentions of cooking (I know this is triggering for some people), heavy tension, cheating, mentions of cheating, mentions of falling out of love/breaking up. Let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter 6 is out! I really hope you enjoy it. Please don’t be mad at me. 😀 lol I told you it gets dramatic. I can’t wait to keep writing, shit gets soooo messy but also some very important lessons get learned. DON’T CHEAT AND DON’T BE AFRAID TO LOVE WHO YOU LOVE OK!!! Also, men are stupid sometimes. 🥴 ok love you!!!

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Glimpse of Us - Joji

♪Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

♪Miss Understood - DPR Ian

♪Hopelessly Devoted To You - Olivia Newton-John (this one is VERY important)

♪Cop Car - Mitski

♪I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski (again)

♪Love Me Again - V

♪I LOVE YOU HOE - Odetari Ft. 9lives

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Unfortunately for you, when you wake up after your not-so-peaceful slumber, you have this feeling deep down in your gut that something bad will happen today.

You wake up sometime the next morning, a bit delirious at first because you didn’t get as deep of a sleep as you normally would have. Seojoon is gone already, which isn’t abnormal. He works early mornings so often times he’s gone before you even wake. And in typical Seojoon fashion, he left a little note and cup of coffee that he picked up for you at the convenience store across the street before he left.

You pick up the note and your coffee, take a sip as you read it;

Went to work, text me when you wake up, and don’t forget about tonight.

-Seojoon, aka your boyfriend :)

The usual note he leaves… except the sign off leaves you feeling a bit off. Because normally, it’s just his name. But this time, he added the joking ‘boyfriend’ to it. This should be considered a cute gesture, because he basically is your fucking boyfriend.

But it doesn’t feel cute. Not after the amount of times he talked about being not-boyfriend-girlfriend last night. In fact, as you stare at the note, you realize he is starting to seem bit persistent about it, but its so subtle that you didn't catch it until now.

Maybe he’s getting tired of waiting… it’s been months, so you can't blame him. But also, you can’t help how you feel, and you don’t really feel ready to add the label. So simple for most people, but for you… it’s not simple at all.

It’s like planting a fucking seed, and you aren’t sure if you want him to plant that seed yet.

You aren’t sure if you want to plant his seed, or anyone else's ever again.

It’s too early for this shit, so you decide not to overthink it. You’re off of work today, and you have to figure out what the fuck to cook for this potluck full of people you don’t know. You’re nervous enough as it is, you don’t need to overthink some silly little note your not-boyfriend left. He was probably just being playful.

You’ve become very good at denying things… pretending that you're fine when you really aren't fine. Something you haven’t realized yet.

So you get up and get yourself ready for the day. You do your skincare, brush your hair, brush your teeth, drink your coffee… a normal day, just like any other.

But you begin to realize that the feeling from last night, the same one that you went to bed with and woke up with, it lingers. That little zap feeling you felt when you dreamt, and when he left, that feeling impending doom that you can't quite shake, it's still very much there.

It’s like a little fluttering in your stomach. Something between butterflies and worms, maybe. Subtle, but there. It could be because you dreamt of him again, because you’re meeting Seojoon's friends, or because he has started bringing up making it official all of a sudden… or maybe your gut is trying to tell you something.

Nah, anxiety, surely. Not denial, not intuition… it's just a bad case of anxiety that was triggered by a bad dream. You're sure of it.

After getting yourself dressed and putting on some light makeup, you know you need to calm your shit if tonight is going to go well and be enjoyable for you and everyone else. So you make a little list of ingredients you need to cook something nice for his friends. A way to a man’s heart is food, as they say, it’ll be a nice gesture that you add to the potluck. You decide to cook two things since Seojoon probably won't have time to make something to bring himself. You'll make something sweet and something savory; chocolate chip cookies, a crowd fav, and classic American mac and cheese, because everyone loves cheese. Both things are easy to make, and you’re sure everyone will like them because they’re simple classics.

You’re totally not subconsciously making flower boys past favs. You’re totally not still thinking about him or that dream. You're absolutely-positively-totally not doing little things that remind you of him… not at all.

After you make your list, you grab your bag and wallet, send Seojoon a little text letting him know you’re awake and preparing for tonight. You know he was probably waiting on it, and he was waiting for it. He was actually anticipating you trying to make an excuse not to go tonight, so he feels a bit giddy knowing you’re actually putting not bailing on him. That's my girl, he thinks to himself when he reads the text.

The rest of your day sort of melds together. You do your best to stay on track, even as you pass the floral department at the grocery store. You linger there, looking at the array of autumn flowers that are bright, warm, and blooming... You also look at the array of wilting bouquets that are marked down in price, on sale because no one wants them...

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach down and graze the tip of one of the flowers petals. Your heart pounds so hard you swear it might break through your chest, because although it seems like such a simple and curious touch, it isn’t. You’re afraid that just like in the dream, the petals will start turning brown and dry, and the flowers on the shelf will start dying. You’re afraid that your touch is indeed poison.

But nothing happens. They merely stay in place as they did before you touched them, they don’t die any faster, but they don’t stop wilting either. These flowers are neutral to you, and your touch isn’t poisonous as you suspected it may be… not to them, anyway.

You aren’t thinking of him. Not today. You can’t. You won’t. You don’t know why it’s so hard all of a sudden after months of working on yourself, but today of all days cannot be the day that you start reliving memories and asking yourself what if I stayed?

And even though you tell yourself you won’t think of him today, you buy one of the wilting bouquets. Because you feel bad for the flowers that no one seems to want. You feel like you relate to them in some fucked up metaphorical way, or did in the past, at least. You wonder if you can nourish them and nurture them to health, much like you did a certain Bearded Iris many months ago.

Dangerous thoughts for a girl who swore she was moving on and healing just fine.

After you’re done at the grocery store, you make your way back home. You make sure to blare music as soon as you walk in the door to prevent your thoughts from becoming too loud, and you very carefully avoid any love songs that seem to try to make an appearance.

You get to work making the cookie dough, following the ‘secret’ recipe you’ve known since you were a teenager. It’s very rich, contains lots of butter and sugar, probably not the healthiest choice, but every time you make them people go crazy for them. You even won a baking competition back in school using this recipe.

If only they knew this was a recipe on the Betty Crocker website.

You mix the ingredients with familiar motions and fill up several baking pans full of little nuggets of dough. Once every pan is full and there's no dough left, you start baking two sheet pans full at a time because your oven can't fit anymore than that.

You try to ignore the memories that surface when you smell them baking.

“Please Y/N, just a little taste, bet you taste sweeter than these cookies… I need to test it, for science n’ shit.”

“No, you’ll get sick! It has raw eggs. Also isn’t that cannibalism? Kookie eating cookies?”

No. Stop. Fuck.

You make quick work of the mac and cheese after every sheet pan of cookies is finished baking. You let the cookies cool as you boil the elbow noodles and make the creamy cheese sauce, which thank god calls for intense focus, otherwise it’ll burn or become too thick and clumpy.

The mac and cheese recipe is pretty simple, it just requires your full attention up until the last step. This is a recipe you learned online as well, and so far every time you make it everyone loves it, even those who don't really like cheese.

One person specifically was very overdramatic about loving it the first time you made it for him.

“Fuuuck. I should marry you. If I marry you can I have this every day?”

“I am NOT marrying you, dummy. And you’d get diabetes. Do you know how much cheese is in here?”

“Don’t care, blah blah blah, marry me and make me this shit every single day.”

Back when times were simpler, before you knew of him being married. You wonder what would have happened if you played along, said you would marry him and make him mac and cheese every day for the rest of your lives... Should’ve accepted his offer.

You start to become irritated. Because this hasn’t happened in months. You’ve coped, you’ve moved on, you have a not-boyfriend now and you’re supposed to be thriving. Before last night, Jungkook was not consuming you anymore... whereas today, you cannot fucking shake him.

That’s what you thought, that this shit was done. Did one nightmare really fuck it all up? Or is it something deeper?

It doesn’t help that the persistent feeling in your gut continues to linger. It won’t go away and it’s fucking annoying. Like a goddamn fly. Maybe it isn’t butterflies, but a bunch of fucking flies fluttering around in your stomach making you feel nauseous and uneasy. So disgusting.

The zaps never fully went away. In the beginning, after the night he left, it was like it continued to happen after the first time. You’d have panic attacks and feel these zaps in your chest, which Sohee witnessed a few times and told you was normal when having when dealing with loss and change mixed with anxiety She recommended you see someone professional about it, but you didn’t take her advice. It was heartbreak, not a fucking psychotic break…

Ok, maybe almost a psychotic break, but it never got to that point. And with time, the zaps went away for the most part. Just like the lingering feelings he left behind. It all dimmed down to a very dull buzz that was barely noticeable.

Until today. Until last night. Until he decided to invade your dreams again like a fucking intruder.

You shake your head at yourself. Because this is fucking ridiculous. He isn’t here, he isn’t coming back, and you’re supposed to be fucking over it. For fucks sake, you’re making junk food for your new mans friends. You need to get a grip.

Ignore it. Deny it until it goes the fuck away and you forget about it. Maybe if you pretend, you won't even notice it by the time you need to leave tonight.

You finish up the mac and cheese and put it in a large casserole dish, top it with even more cheese and your garlic butter bread crumbs, and then pop it into the oven on medium heat to get all gooey inside and crispy on top. While it bakes, you pack up the cookies in a portable Tupperware container. Now all you have to do is get yourself ready.

You hope like hell you can make yourself look as good as the food, because the dark circles under your eyes are prominent even under the makeup you put on today. This is why you need your goddamn beauty sleep.

While the mac and cheese finishes baking, you fuss over an outfit in your room. It’s a potluck, so you're sure it's casual… but you don’t want to dress too up or down. Normally, you don’t really overthink these things... but again, your nerves are wrecked today. So everything feels worse than what it really is. You're overthinking things far more than normal.

After making your room a damn mess and covering the floor in failed outfits, you decide on wearing a simple floral dress that doesn’t show too much skin, but is still fun. The base color is a deep red, speckled with little white flowers all over. It’s chilly outside due to the changing seasons, so you pair it with some thick thigh high socks and boots. And of course you need a jacket.

A certain jacket that you’ve told everyone you bought for yourself as a treat, but what they can’t see is that it’s covered in an invisible purple and white floral pattern, too.

You touch up your makeup, do it as you always do, and decide to leave your hair down, but pack a hair tie in your bag just in case. You check the clock, and it’s right around 6:30 pm so you know Seojoon is showing up soon, probably in the next thirty minutes or so. You're surprised at how fast time flew today, but also thankful that its nearly over.

Fuck. You feel sick.

After doing one last onceover of yourself, you walk into the kitchen, only to freeze when you see Seojoon is already here… that damn spare key. Maybe it was a bit fast moving to give him your spare key... You were just so used to someone else having it, so you didn't think twice before offering it to Seojoon.

Funny how you gave him a spare key to your apartment but won’t be his fucking girlfriend yet.

He must have gotten off of work early today, because normally he’d be here around seven after going home to check on Simba and change out of his work clothes, but judging by his casual attire, he’s already done all of that. You’re unsure as to why he didn’t text you and let you know… or, fuck, maybe he did and you just didn’t notice. You haven’t exactly been paying attention to your phone thanks to the thoughts plaguing you tonight. You've been all over the place. You’re surprised he didn’t immediately seek you out, but then you see the look on his face… and he doesn’t look very happy.

“Secret admirer?”

He arches a brow that is disguised as playful, but the twitch in his jaw gives him away. At first, you’re confused… until you see his fingers dancing around the petals of the forgotten, wilting, bouquet of flowers that you bought at the grocery store.

You have no fucking clue what comes over you, but you have the urge to scream at him... tell him not to touch what doesn’t belong to him, tell him to get away from them as if he’s the poison. It’s totally irrational, especially when he’s the one who seems to need reassurance here. You aren't sure why he automatically jumps to that conclusion, but you don't think too much about it.

It’s that damn dream. It’s corrupting you. Fuck, maybe you’re possessed. Possessed by the ghost of Jeon-fucking-Jungkook and its causing you to nearly bite Seojoon's head off over touching some dying flowers... You don’t know, but you almost want to laugh at yourself.

You swallow your outburst before it can escape and disguise it with a weary laugh as you make your way over to him.

“What? No, I got these myself. They were on sale and looked sad, wanted to see if I could bring some life back into them.”

This irks Seojoon. He also feels irrationally about it, but sort of regrets immediately jumping to conclusions. It nearly revealed his insecurities… or maybe something deeper than just insecurity. Projection, perhaps, but he’d never admit that.

He feels less of a man knowing you bought yourself fucking flowers, especially ones as pitiful as these. He thinks if you want flowers, he should be buying them for you. He buys them for you often, it's just that you never seem very interested.

He doesn’t like it and neither do you. You wish he’d get you something else, anything else, not flowers. Anything but flowers. It's such a sweet gesture, but as you have said to yourself so many times before, flowers are reserved for someone you refuse to talk to him about.

You grab the bouquet almost protectively and walk over to the sink, get on your tiptoes to start rummaging your cabinets for a proper vase to put them in.

“Should’ve just asked me for flowers, babe. You know I’d get you anything you want... those are just so fucking ugly.”

He laughs when he says it, shakes his head and walks over to where the cookies rest. He takes one from the container and starts nibbling on it, makes a face of almost disgust because fuck, why’re they so rich?

You don’t notice the face he’s making because you’re stuck on the fact that he called these flowers ugly. They aren’t. They’re just sad. Maybe you’re being oversensitive about something so fucking mundane, but it really rubs you the wrong way that he would call them ugly just because they’re wilting.

You wonder if he’s ever thought of you similarly, considering it was no secret when you met him that you weren’t flourishing like you once were. You were recovering from heartbreak, you were as wilted as you could get... much more wilted than these discount flowers.

“They’re not ugly, just need some TLC…” you mutter under your breathe as you fill up a vase full of water.

He doesn’t respond because he disagrees. These flowers are dying, there’s no saving them, that’s why they were marked down in price. No one wants dying flowers.

No one but you.

“Are these the cookies you’re bringing to the potluck?”

You glance at him as he asks. He’s starting to piss you off, which is just making your mood so much worse, you’re already nervous and anxiety-ridden, is he really going to choose today to be picky and pessimistic about shit?

“Yeah, why? Something wrong with them?”

You try to hide the bite in your tone as you place the flowers in their new vase. You fluff them up a bit, sprinkle some plant foot into the water and set them on your windowsill, hoping they’ll get some Sun in the morning.

He snorts at your comment about the cookies and shakes his head, “No, they’re just really… sweet. But you’re a sweet girl, guess I should’ve expected that, huh?”

He’s buttering you up now, because he can tell his comments are bothering you. He’s unsure which one of you are acting extra sensitive tonight, but he silently blames you. Maybe she’s on her period, she didn’t fuck me last night so would make sense, he thinks to himself. Such a man-coded thing to think...

That’s the good thing about Seojoon though; he thinks to himself. He often closets those little comments inside of his head. You’ve yet to have a real argument. The honeymoon phase is inevitably waning, but it’s still there. He doesn’t want to ruin that… because that’s normally when the women he dates start to grow tired of him.

But he wants to keep you. His little wildflower. His little stray cat.

If you knew half of the shit he thought to himself… he has a feeling you would grow tired of him quickly.

You don’t respond to his kiss-ass comment, instead you just shake your head at him. You don't want to argue, especially when you are the one feeling butt-hurt. After fussing over the flowers, you pull out the mac and cheese from the oven and cover the top with tinfoil. You find yourself hoping that tonight passes by quickly because you’re just not in the mood to pretend to be fine.

But you must. Pretend, deny, ignore, just for a little longer. It’s just a bad day, you tell yourself. You’re just sensitive, that’s all. This isn't his fault, it's yours for digging up dead flowers.

As you put the food inside of a bag, Seojoon grabs his coat. He can tell you’re not amused with him at the moment, and doesn’t want to push it. Wants to avoid pissing you off further because he’d be so fucking embarrassed if the first time he brings you around his friends is also the first time you guys argue.

So he does as he should and keeps his mouth shut. No reason to poke the bear.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

You also want to avoid arguing, obviously. This day has been bad enough, and tonight is supposed to be fun. So you keep your mouth shut just like him.

The communication is lacking.

You both walk down to his car after you lock up your apartment, and begin making your way to the potluck. The drive is silent, other than the music playing subtly in the background. At some point, Seojoon's shuffled playlist plays Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John from the OG Grease soundtrack. And of course Seojoon starts fucking belting it to the top of his lungs as he drives, putting on a whole ass concert for you to try and cheer you up.

“But now… there's nooowhere to hiiide, Since you pushed my love asiiiiide, I'm ooout of my head, Hopelessly devoted to yoooooou!”

And despite your sour mood and the flies in your stomach, it does cheer you up. It’s silly. He looks ridiculous, a grown ass man singing to you like a damsel in distress while driving. You’re thankful he did it, because your giggles are a good distraction from the lingering thoughts of the man from your past haunting you today.

You barely register the lyrics, Seojoon drowns out what the song is saying entirely with his very off-key terribly singing and the way he dramatically grips your hand like a microphone.

But if you did notice the lyrics, you’d have gotten the sinking feeling that this song is foreshadowing your night.

Thank god you didn’t notice the lyrics.

After this, the mood lightens significantly. You find yourself chattering with him along the way, making little playful comments as you always do. You’re still nervous, but you have a false sense of security now. You were just in your head, that damn dream messed up your entire day and it was causing you to nearly take it out on Seojoon. There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re meeting new people, this will be fun. A step in the right direction to your possible relationship with him.

This is good. Everything is going to be fine, surely it will. Just a bad day.

At exactly 7:10 pm, you arrive at Taehyung's house. It’s very lovely. It isn’t some sort of luxurious mansion or anything, but it is much nicer than your own small apartment. You can tell his friends must be well off; the various nice cars parked around show that they all must work hard for what they have, which makes sense because, as far as you're aware, they're all a bit older than you. The house has a nice sized front yard, and the outside is clean looking, minimal furniture on the porch, but it still looks cozy. Doesn’t look too big or intimidating. Just a typical house for guys around Seojoon's age and status.

Makes you feel less nervous about lacking something. You’ve always thought of Seojoon as an humble guy, but his job is very well paying and he doesn’t want for anything, so you assume his friends are the same. It was a bit intimidating to think about because your job isn’t exactly bringing you riches, but it does make you happy.

You just want to impress them. Maybe a little too much. It seems silly because you're an adult who has nothing to prove to anyone. This isn't high school, you aren't here to try and fit in... but if Seonjoon's friends decide they don't like you, you may as well end it tonight. Relationships never end or even begin well if those surrounding you don't get along who you are dating... or not-dating-but-sort-of-dating in this case. That's why the pressure feels a bit much at this moment. No, you don't care what they think of you, but also, you kind of do. Because you want things with Seojoon to work.

Seojoon parks at an empty spot on the side of the street, and pats your thigh as he says, “You ready? Or you gonna make a run for it when you get out of the car?”

It’s only meant as a joke, but he really shouldn’t tempt you. He’s lucky he knows how to make you laugh.

“Don’t tempt me.”

He snorts at thatbut holds his hands up in mock surrender. He gets out of the car and opens your door for you as he always does—such a gentlemen. He would have carried the bag of food, too, but you insisted you do it. You want to make sure they know that you came bearing treats, that you made this for them and for Seojoon.

Once you get on the porch, he knocks on the door. You feel those flies in your stomach swirling around, and you wish so badly that you never thought of them as flies, because it makes the feeling a lot more intimidating. Butterflies are much more appealing than flies.

The door swings open, and you see a tall man smiling fondly at Seojoon. His smile is boxy, and you immediately recognize it as the smile Seojoon described as belonging to Taehyung. You love him already.

“Joon, come in. Ooooh and you’ve brought a pretty girl with you too!”

Of course, Taehyung knows who you are. You’re Seojoon's girl. Seojoon wasn’t joking when he said he talks about you often, always bragging about you and maybe exaggerating things a little too much in his excitement.

As you walk in, you say kindly, “Its nice to meet you finally, I’m Y/N.”

Taehyung smiles down at you as Seojoon removes his jacket, “Likewise, I’ve heard so much about you. Joon is fucking whipped for you.”

Seojoon immediately swats Taehyung on the head and gives him a scolding look. You find it funny how he seems to be embarrassed about that comment. Cute, even.

Seojoon isn’t embarrassed, though. He just doesn’t want Taehyung to say too much… doesn’t want him to slip up and call you his girlfriend before he has the chance to do it himself. Then it would be evident that he’s been referring to you as his girlfriend all this time. Can’t have that. Not yet.

“Hey! It’s true, you got hearts in your eyes n’ shit!” Taehyung gestures dramatically to Seojoon's face, and Seojoon rolls his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s being dramatic.” Seojoon retorts as he moves to take off your jacket for you.

You shake your head and subtly nudge his touch away… because you don’t want to take this jacket off. At the moment it’s like a security blanket. A warm hug in a moment when you’re feeling unsure. Safe. Safe like—

Nope. Not here. Stop.

“Ah, it’s ok, gonna keep it on. Thank you though.”

Seojoon's jaw ticks but he smiles to hide it. Doesn’t like that you didn’t let him act gentlemanly in front of his friend. But he reminds himself that you're an independent girl... even if it irritates him sometimes.

“Joonie! Ah! You’re here!”

You barely have a moment to think when you see a woman rush over to Seojoon like he’s her long-lost lover, wrap her arms around him, and hug him hard.

Oh, you don’t like that. You’ve never really been the jealous-possessive type, those feelings only occur when trust is lacking in a relationship. And as of now, you have no reason not to trust Seojoon...

But something about how comfortable she was being blatantly clingy like that really does not sit well with you.

You smile a bit awkwardly at Taehyung, who looks just as bewildered as you are in the moment, and then you turn to Seojoon and give him a silent look that says who the fuck is this?

Seojoon does look a bit tense as this woman embraces him. He hugs her back awkwardly and gives you an apologetic smile as he pulls away from her.

“Sena, hey, yeah I’m here. Brought my girl with me, too. Sena, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sena... we work together.”

You smile politely at her as she turns to face you. Her smile looks just as fake as yours does. Sickly sweet, all teeth, but her eyes scream judgment.

It’s odd, though, because she looks so fucking familiar. You rack your brain quickly, trying to figure out where you know her from, but you come up empty. Maybe you’ve seen her when bringing Seojoon lunch or something.

“Nice to meet you Sena.”

She nods at you, reaches out and touches your jacket, which you nearly recoil from. She clearly lacks boundaries. You start to feel a bit more at ease seeing that she’s just a naturally touchy person, no need to read too much into why the fuck she just hugged Seojoon like she loved him.

“Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, Seojoon talks about you aaaall the time. I love your jacket by the way, did you get it from the thrift?”

Did you... get it... from the thrift?

Now, there’s nothing wrong with thrifting. In fact, you shop at the thrift often. It’s better for the environment, you find unique pieces, and it saves you money. Better than buying fast fashion or blowing money on shit like Gucci that’s overpriced and not as cute as the vintage pieces at the thrift.

But the way she said it... it’s not a compliment. You know damn well you’re not the only who noticed either, because Taehyung is looking at Seojoon like what the fuck, and Seojoon is looking at Sena like shut the fuck up.

What upsets you most is that this jacket is one of your most prized possessions. Will anyone ever know why? No. Absolutely not. But it’s precious to you, and you hate that she just tried to make you feel bad about it.

Regardless, you smile at her and shake your head, because you didn’t come here to cat fight with some woman who doesn’t have a filter or a sense of when to stop.

“Ah, thanks. No I didn’t get it from the thrift, was a treat for myself last autumn.”

You lie easily. You could just as easily tell her that it was a gift from someone near and dear to you, make her feel bad, but you already told Seojoon a long while ago that you bought it for yourself. Can’t get caught in your white lies.

She merely nods at you in response, reaches down to tug on one of the sleeves and you have to fight the urge to fucking backhand her for touching you without your permission again. Who does this bitch think she is?

“Oooh ok. My husband had a similar jacket last year but he threw it in the trash. Cute, though.”

Before you can even take in what she just said or come up with some sort of rebuttal, Seojoon cuts in. He gently wraps his arm around your waist and says, with a bit too chipper of a tone, "Right, well, I wanna introduce you to everyone else, Y/N. The guys are dying to meet you. It was nice seeing you, Sena."

He quickly drags you away from the infuriating woman just like that. Part of you wants to scold him for it, ask him why the fuck he didn’t say something to her or defend you. But you know in the back of your mind that he was most likely avoiding conflict just like you.

Great fucking start. You’ve met one woman, and she’s being a cunt. Surely, the other women here are nicer...

Once you enter the kitchen, he takes the bag of food from you and hands it to one of the guys, whom he introduces as Seokjin. Tall and handsome, looks almost as if he could be Seojoon’s brother, and the man clearly knows he’s good-looking, too. He seems pretty cocky but also very kind.

Seokjin waves you both off and says he’ll set the food out with the other treats so you can get acquainted with the rest of the guys. Seojoon grabs your arm, and although he’s being gentle, you wish he would stop fucking dragging you around. Again, you don't mean to be so sensitive, and you know it is most likely meant as a comforting gesture, but it's making you feel almost like a child.

It’s making you feel tense and a bit trapped... but you say nothing for the time being.

He brings you to the living room, which is very nicely decorated. Simple, but not too much. Taehyung has a good sense of style. Most of the decor is modern, black and white, but there are various pops of color around, and he has some fascinating pieces of art.

The pops of color dim a bit when you realize Sena is also in here. The spot next to her is empty, and she’s staring you down like an owl would stare at a damn kitten wandering around places it shouldn't be.

God, you hope not all of the girls here are like this... wait... where are the other girls? You take a quick look around and realize that you don't see any other woman here.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my girl. Y/N, this is Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon.”

Each of them wave at you as Seojoon introduces you, and you give them a polite smile. All of them are handsome guys, you’re realizing. Makes sense that Seojoon would have such attractive friends, considering he himself is attractive. But damn. They’re all so pretty.

Namjoons smile is one of the prettiest, his dimples stand out and his eyes are warm and welcoming. He’s tall like Jin and Seojoon, whereas Jimin is shorter, but looks fucking ethereal. You’re jealous of how plump his lips are, but he looks so damn sweet. And Hoseok literally reminds you of sunshine with the way he beams at you. Flowers love a bit of sunshine. You feel like you’ll get along with all of them great.

“Damn, Seojoon, she’s so pretty. No wonder you won’t shut the fuck up.”

Jimin smiles after he says it, his eyes scrunching into crescent moons as he giggles at Seojoon's disgruntled groan. The other guys join in… and you realize that you don't see any other woman here. The only woman in sight is Sena, which means the men here didn’t actually bring their partners, or they just don’t have one. You feel a bit deceived.

Either way, Seojoon lied, which you don’t like. Sure, you lied about the origin of your jacket, but that’s harmless compared to him lying about who was going to be here just to get you to agree to join him easily.

You don’t want to make any quick assumptions, though . Maybe you just haven’t met them yet. And if he did lie…. You’ll scold him later. But you have a sinking feeling that when he said the guys 'spouses/girlfriends' would be here, he meant only Sena.

“Nice to meet you Y/N, we’re all really glad you’re here. We’ve been wanting to meet you!” Namjoon says with a welcoming smile.

You start to feel a bit bad that you haven’t met them sooner, although you’re aware that Seojoon isn’t really that close to anyone here other than Taehyung. You almost hope that changes, because they all seem so pleasant so far, other than Sena. These are the types of guys you’d ask to hold you drink at the bar.

They all feel safe... similar to- Nope.

“You really are pretty, Y/N, way too pretty for the likes of Seojoon. You remind me of a sunflower!” Hoseok says. He’s only playing, but the fact that he compares you to a flower makes you feel both flattered and… a bit melancholic.

Flowers are reserved from someone else, you think to yourself again for like the third fucking time today. Irritating, flowers are everywhere, and here you are, gatekeeping them for someone who is practically dead to you. But he was being sweet and has no clue that flowers are a sore spot for you. No one does. It's sweet that he thinks of you as a sunflower when you think of him as the sun. You feel like you could easily become best friends with Hoseok.

“Ah, wow, you’re all so sweet. Thank you. I’m really happy to be here too. I appreciate the warm welcoming.”

You feel yourself become a bit shy as Seojoon drags you to one of the couches to sit down. You nearly want to slap him across the damn head when he picks the spot next to Sena, because why the fuck would he do that? Why would he put you in that position? Especially considering when he sits down, he gives you the seat next to hers, which thankfully grants a bit of space between you that you assume is reserved for her husband... but even then, she's too close for comfort. You feel like you're sitting next to a snake.

But you don’t protest because it wouldn’t look good if you immediately shunned the only fucking woman here after being here for barely twenty minutes.

You wonder who her husband is out of all the guys, because they seem far too good for her. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but nothing about this familiar woman screams kind. She eyes you like a hawk, while in the same breathe smiles brightly at everyone else here.

Maybe she’s a pick-me sort of girl, maybe it’s internalized misogyny, or maybe she just doesn’t like you for no good goddamn reason.

“Are the two grumps still outside smoking? The food's gonna get cold. Also, Y/N, these cookies are like crack. Holy fuck.”

Taehyung breaks you away from your thoughts about the snake sitting next to you as he walks into the living room, two cookies in his hand, cheeks stuffed full, and chocolate on his bottom lip. He really does remind you of a big kid, just as Seojoon described, and it’s flattering that he likes your cookies. It’s kind of a relief, even, considering Seojoon seemed not to be a fan of them earlier. At least someone likes them.

“I’m so glad you like—“

“I know right? My girlfriend is the best cook.”

“There they are, get your grumpy asses back inside we have food to eat.”

So much happens at once that you can't focus. You’re stunned in silence because of the way Seojoon just so casually called you his girlfriend, and no one even batted an eye. They accepted it as if this wasn't new information to them.

It’s one thing to refer to you as his girl because you refer to him as your man. But he knows how you feel about the label, and he knows damn well you would tell him when you’re ready to add it. Seojoon knows that you aren't ready. And instead of respecting that, he took it upon himself to announce your apparent relationship, meanwhile none of his friends congratulated him or even really reacted to it... which means this isn't the first time he has called you his girlfriend against your wishes.

You’re so caught up in this that you don’t notice the tiny sliver of space dip beside you. You don’t realize someone is pressed against your other side on the cramped couch. You don’t smell the familiar scent of baby powder and fresh linen. You don’t hear Namjoon as he introduces you to the body next to you.

Because you feel betrayed in some way. You question if you’re being dramatic, but you don’t like that he abruptly forced this label on you. You know it may be irrational, he has a damn key to your apartment, but it's not like there's no reason you are hesitant to fully commit. He doesn't know exactly why, but he has known from the start that you wanted to take things slow and go at your own pace. He just took that from you. It's even worse because it’s the first time you’ve met his friends. It puts you in an incredibly uncomfortable position because if you deny it, you make both of you look bad.

There were signs, though... Such as how he kept bringing it up last night and his little hint in the note he left this morning. You just never expected Seojoon would so blatantly cross a boundary like this.

You tune back in when you see Namjoon gesturing to the man sitting on the couch across from you, “and this is Yoongi, he’s quiet and looks kinda grumpy, but he’s just shy. He’s really sweet.”

The man who’s apparently named Yoongi flips Namjoon off and then nods at you, “Hey." He says simply.

You try to bring yourself down from your oversensitive feelings because you don’t want anyone to think you’re being rude. But god, you’re still reeling because of Seojoon. It doesn’t help that he has his fucking hand on your thigh, either. You have been having such a hard time controlling your emotions today, and none of this is helping.

You smile at Yoongi but say nothing, because he’s already talking to Taehyung. You don’t take offense to it, in fact you’d thank him for letting you off easily if you could, because right now you don’t think you could speak with a stable voice.

Seojoon can tell you’re upset, but he acts oblivious. Because he knows damn well what he did and he knows the reason for it was wrong… He was jealous. In fact, he was jealous from he moment you both walked in and everyone was commenting on how pretty you were. He knows they were just being kind, but something about Taehyung commenting on how good those cookies were set him off heavily. Made him feel the need to be clear about what you were to him. They all know you as his girlfriend anyway, but he isn't close to everyone here... he needed them to know that he does have a claim on you, even if you don't know it yourself.

And he knows you aren’t an object to claim, but he’s only a man…

“Nice jacket. Your boyfriend get it for you?”

For fucks sake, what is it with people and this jacket tonight? And now they're calling him your boyfriend. Not fucking helping.

You come out of your silent fit and realize that someone is sitting next to you, sandwiched between you and Sena, which must mean this is her husband. And just like her, his tone is almost insulting. What the hell do they have against this precious piece of clothing? Are they Calvin Klein haters?

You’re debating whether or not to pop off at whoever this man is, but his voice makes chills run up and down your spine. Sounds... familiar. Eerily familiar.

You turn to face him, wanting to get a look at him before you say something passive-aggressive because maybe he isn't trying to be rude, but is just gruff. You also want to know why his voice sounds so familiar, why he smells so familiar, and why the flies in your stomach just multiplied by ten and something is telling you, 'Don't fucking look, Y/N.'

And the moment you look at him, you understand. You wish so badly that you could run the fuck away.

There’s no way this is happening to you right now. There is no fucking way that whoever controls fate and karma hates you this much.

It is impossible for this man to be sitting next to you right now.

Jeon Jungkook stares right at you, and it's as of time stops. His eyes aren’t as kind as you remember them, but his pupils are blown to absolute shit as he stares at you, and his nostrils are flaring with each breathe he takes.

You blink rapidly, because surely you’re hallucinating. Maybe you finally did have your psychotic break. Maybe you’re bat-shit-fucking-crazy and now you’re seeing things that aren’t really there. You almost hope that you are currently going insane.

But no. You feel his warmth, and you finally realize why you recognized his voice and that smell that is so unique to him, and why Sena seemed so familiar in the beginning.

Because Sena is the woman that you’ve been stalking on Instagram periodically to get tiny glimpses of your flower. Sena is the fence that surrounded him all that time, the cage, much like her nails are possessively curled around his bicep right now, keeping him under lock. Sena is the reason that you had to watch your flower be ripped out of your shared soil and taken away from you. So many months ago, but as you stare at him, it's as if the wound is fresh and you never fucking grieved him.

Sena is his fucking wife.

You don’t know which is more earth shattering; the fact that he is sitting in front of you right now, or the fact that he’s married to this witch.

How the fuck didn’t you recognize her sooner?

You don’t know what to do. And oh, it is so fucking ironic how he is sandwiched between you and Sena, and you are sandwiched between him and Seojoon. Such a fucking tragedy.

You may as well jump off a cliff... or play dead. Act like a fucking opossum to get out of this situation. You don’t know if you want to cry or laugh at the irony of it all, at the fact that for months you worked on getting over this man, only for him to end up right fucking beside you in your not-boyfriends group of friends.

Right when you thought shit was getting better.

Or was it? Because you had that nightmare last night. You’ve felt anxiety ridden all day. Every little thing was reminding you of him out of nowhere after months of slowly letting go.

The signs were there, and maybe the universe was trying to tell you. Anxiety over intuition is bullshit, clearly… you didn't listen. Always trust your gut.

“I asked you a question. Did. Your. Boyfriend. Get. You. That jacket?”

Torn away from your thoughts once more, you nearly flinch at his tone of voice. He sounds so fucking…. Mean. And he knows damn well your ‘boyfriend’ didn’t get you this jacket. It’s his fucking jacket. So why is he doing this?

“No, she got it from the thrift. Looks like the one you trashed doesn’t it?”

Wrong fucking time for her to open her stupid fucking mouth.

You feel like you are going to freak out. You are so overwhelmed that you can't even say anything.

Jungkook wants so badly to smirk at this. Because he knows you didn’t get it from the thrift and he knows he never threw that jacket out. Little does Sena know, the jacket he allegedly threw in the trash is the exact one on your body right now.

“Stop being so grumpy.” She scolds him, and has the fucking nerve to take the palm of her hand and push on his head like some fucking dog trying to steal someone’s food.

He doesn’t even react. That’s what’s most devastating of everything that has transpired so far, you think. Out of all that has happened in the last few minutes, this is what bothers you the most. She just subtly degraded him, which may not seem as harsh as you think, but the way his jaw ticked when she did it showed that it wasn't playful. He's used to it, which means she does shit like that often.

Which also means he can’t possibly be as happy as he looks in those pretty pictures on her Instagram.

All this time, he hasn’t been as ok as you thought. You don’t even need him to tell you; you see it in his eyes. Pupils are still dilated to shit as his eyes stay on you, but his eyes express nothing other than bitterness, loneliness, and a sort of longing only he ever looked at you with.

Fuck. You can’t breathe.

No one else seems to notice the tension between you both, or that he’s staring at you as if he’s a starving man looking at a meal being consumed by someone else. Seojoon is talking to Taehyung about something, and the guys around you are joining in, everyone is oblivious to the loud silence stretching between you and Jungkook.

The only one privy to the tension is Yoongi, as quiet as a mouse and as observant as a cat. But you don’t see it. You don’t see anything other than a dead flower taunting you the same way it does in your dreams.

It’s funny because Jungkook can see the turmoil written on your face. Even after all this time, he knows your tells so fucking well. The way your eyes continuously flutter when you blink, the way you’re picking at your nails and bouncing your leg, and the way your eyes won't hold his. He knows you’re fucked right now… and he almost feels satisfaction in it.

Because unlike you, he didn’t move on. After he left, he was a fucking mess. That first month without you was hell, and he was alone throughout it all. His wife was gone, her business trip was conveniently extended another two weeks, so he was able to blubber like a baby and break shit in fits of emotion without anyone noticing. He drank like an alcoholic to try and numb the feeling of complete despair that came with you being gone. What really tore him up, but also pushed him, was when you blocked his number.

What he didn't expect was silence. So when he woke up and re-read what he sent, he sent another apology... because no matter how badly he wished you would extend an olive branch of some sort, he would never want to make you uncomfortable. So he sat there and typed a very lengthy apology for disrespecting your wishes and ever putting you in this situation to begin with. Once he sent it, he sat there and waited for it to deliver… only for the message to turn green. Because you fucking blocked him.

He knows this was the right thing for you to do. You did not owe him anything, and you needed to move on. But god, the fact that you took away his only point of connection that he still had to you, it made him feel so out of control, so fucking bitter and sad inside.

He tried to take this as sign to do better, to move on himself. Because as you have both acknowledged many times before, he wasn’t yours. His heart still very much belonged to you, but he could never fully give himself to you. He was married to Sena. He needed to move on, too.

Your words rang in his head for days, 'love your wife more,' and he wanted to. Despite Sena being insufferable at times, she was still his wife, and he aided in pushing her away. She deserved better and he made a commitment to her for life. He needed to fucking try.

And so he did. For weeks he debated on confessing to her, coming clean. But every time he tried, she wouldn't give him a chance.

"Sena, please we really need to talk."

"About what?"

"About us. Need to get some shit off of my chest... please."

"Ugh, Jungkook, no we don't. We're fine."

That's how it went every time. He would try, and she wouldn't let him. So eventually, he decided to just keep it to himself and silently vow that he would do right by her. He would repent for his sins, cleanse himself with holy water made from his sorrowful tears cried silently at night, and he would make this right.

He wanted so fucking badly to make this right. He didn't want to be a stray dog anymore. You gave him up to the pound, and he was returned to his rightful owner. He wanted to be a loyal and loving companion to his wife. Not a stray fucking dog like he had been long before you came and stole him away from home.

He went out of his way to make her life more pleasurable and easier. Every morning, he woke up and made her breakfast, and every night even when he was tired from taking photos all day, he would make her a home cooked dinner. Did she always want it? No. She complained about it sometimes, claimed she'd rather takeout. And even though it stung, he would get her whatever takeout she wanted.

He continuously bought her things. Flowers, jewelry, sweets that were freshly baked at fancy cafes he knew she liked, new and expensive designer clothing he noticed her eyeing, anything she wanted, he would get for her. Anything he thought she would like, he would buy for her.

Along with the obscene amount of gifts he got her, he had been taking her out more. Fancy restaurants that served small and overpriced portions, but the experience was apparently worth it because of the celebrities who often frequented places like these. He took her to Coachella in LA which was incredibly last second, he dropped way too much money on that damn trip, but he knew she wanted to go and he was going to make it happen. He recreated their honeymoon on their anniversary, took her to Japan just like he did the night that they got married, tried to make it as extravagant and sentimental as he possibly could.

He never questioned her when she would disappear on work trips with barely any notice. He would go along with it, wish her a safe flight, and put his full trust in her despite the fact that he knew she was never really going where she said she was. He cheated, after all. He doesn't have the right to question her loyalty when he was the one who was disloyal. Like you, he’s good at denying things that are obvious. He tried his best to deny the fact that every time she came home from these trips, she was glowing and didn’t smell like herself.

He became more affectionate, kissed her every morning and every night, snuggled her in bed, told her how pretty she is and how much he loved her. He did his fucking best to fall back in love with her and show her that he was trying.

And to anyone else on the outside looking in, they would appear as the perfect married couple. He would appear as the perfect husband who showers his wife with love, kisses the ground she walks on, and supports her demanding career. She would appear as the trophy wife that any man would kill to have. They seemed perfect when she posted her little pictures on Instagram, or when she made rare appearances to gatherings with their friends.

But behind closed doors, it was never enough, and no matter how fucking hard he tried, he remained a stray dog. Instead of being welcome back inside once he came back home to her, he was chained to a fence and kept at arms length. He was fed crumbs of reassurance and half assed affection that was only ever given when she saw that he was unhappy. But Sena didn’t want a stray dog.

She didn't smile at his cooking the same way she did at takeout. When he bought her flowers, he would often find them in the trash. When he bought her clothing or jewelry, he never saw her wear it. When he got her sweets or coffee from her favorite cafes, she would complain that they weren't right. When he took her to fancy dinner dates, she barely paid attention to him or engaged in conversation with him. When they went on little vacations, she would get bored of him after the first day there. And when he tried to kiss or touch, she would brush him off like he was gross.

She still refused to fuck him, even when he would give her hints. This was the most challenging thing. For Jungkook, sex isn't possible unless feelings are involved. So he had to work himself up to even try to be intimate with her. It was bad enough that the thought of touching someone else, even himself, made him fucking sick after you were gone. So when he did finally manage to get a boner one night when he was a bit tipsy and trying to snuggle her in bed, he tried to reignite that flame between them.

Only for her to tell him that the she was on her period… which was a blatant lie. Jungkook knows this because Sena has an IUD that lasts up to 8 years and stopped her periods completely. She hasn’t purchased feminine products such as tampons or pads or even period panties in years. She got the IUD a few months after they married. She wasn’t on her period, she just didn’t fucking want him.

That was the day that he accepted defeat.

She fell out of love with him, it was clear. And there was nothing that he could do to make her love him again. No amount of money or pretty things or fun trips would make her want him again. And he couldn't even show her with his body either, because she wouldn't allow him.

He wanted to blame everyone. Her, you, him, god, satan, the fucking universe itself. He resented her for it, she made him feel so small and unlovable. And if he had never met you, he wouldn't have been tempted, so maybe he could have saved them sooner. And as for god and the devil, well, real or not, he’s blaming them anyway.

Most of all, he blamed himself. It’s always been him. He feels like he could have done so many things differently to keep her love. He should have never pulled away and became distant when she told him she didn’t want kids, he should have talked to her about it. He should have worked it out with her. He knows in the back of his mind that it isn’t fully his fault, it takes two to communicate and keep a healthy relationship… but when he’s alone, it is so fucking easy to take the blame for it all.

He accepted it, because he was tired. A man can only take so much rejection from his own fucking wife before just saying fuck it. And it wasn't like he could talk to her about it, because she wouldn't let him.

He knew there must be someone else, so it was only a matter of time before she left him. He wasn't going to leave her, because he had nothing to lose, did he? He already lost you, he lost himself, and he lost the woman he swore he would spend forever with. He may as well suffer and take his rightful punishment.

She wasn't a monster, and he still cared for her very much. He was not innocent in all of this, he pushed her away, too. A relationship consists of two people, and he quit communicating with her at some point, just as she did with him. He lied and deceived her, so no matter how cold she had become, or what wrong she did, he was in the wrong, too. Two wrongs never make a right.

So, he went back into the doghouse. He stopped whining and howling for her to let him in. He stopped scratching at the door and staring at her with pleading eyes. As the seasons changed and time passed, he stayed in that doghouse in the cold. He stared at the space that two flowers once bloomed together, and the emptiness of it made it so fucking obvious that you were the light that he was missing the most. Without you, there were no stars in the sky, the sun was dull, the moon was invisible, and the flowers never fucking bloomed again.

And every goddamn night he thought of you more and more. Oh, how he wished you would come and rescue him again, because if you did, he would do anything for you. He would leave her, he would give you all his money, he would jump off a damn cliff. He would so much rather be in the doghouse in your metaphorical backyard than this cold and lonely doghouse that is called home. Anything for you. Always fucking you.

When he finally relented in trying to repent for his sins, he started dreaming of you. It was as if his acceptance of you being gone brought relief and turmoil all at once. Relief, because he could finally think of you again without feeling quite so guilty... turmoil because he was thinking of you again.

His dreams weren’t metaphorical like yours, they were always very realistic. Some of them were good, and he found that on nights that he dreamed of you both living happily ever after together, the day following was a little brighter.

But the nightmares made him volatile. The nightmares were always similar. He would run into you somewhere out in the wild, you’d catch up, and then a faceless man would appear and introduce himself as your boyfriend. He couldn’t fucking stand that. He didn’t know who the faceless man was, and every time he tried to run after you, beg you to choose him instead, he couldn’t move. He would stay frozen as he watched you walk away from him again and again, but this time you were happier, you were doing so fucking good without him.

Tonight, he swears he is living this nightmare. When he walked in after smoking, and he saw you, and the heard fucking Seojoon refer to you as his girlfriend? He wanted to punch something just to make sure this wasn’t a nightmare.

You both are very similar, always have been in many ways. Because he also stalked your Instagram. He probably did it way too much. He never made a move to message you or even follow you, he respected the fact that you were stern in your decision, but he lurked. He waited and waited for you to post something new because he was dying to know how you were doing.

And occasionally, you would post. Little cryptic captions that he couldn’t decipher even though he thought about them for hours, tried to find out if they had a hidden meaning like morse code. Pictures that didn’t show your full face, so he couldn’t figure out if you were happy or dying inside like he was; there was never anything that gave away how you were doing.

Until one day, you posted a photo of you and a man. And it was like his nightmares started coming true.

No caption, just a stupid fucking red heart emoji. It was a selfie of you smiling next to Seojoon at some café and he looked at you like you held the fucking stars. And then you posted more, and more, and more, as if you were taunting him on purpose. Some candid photos of Seojoon, some more silly little selfies of you two together, but what really fucked with his head was when you posted a photo you took of a Polaroid picture sitting on your bed, a picture of Seojoon and his dog that is apparently named Simba. You captioned it ‘My babies!!!’

The Polaroid camera he left for you, no doubt. That posts mere existence nearly sent him on a goddamn rampage.

The most comical part of it all is he knew exactly who Seojoon was. Not only did Sena work with the fucker, but he was Taehyung’s friend. He was never close with Seojoon, had met him a few times on nights out when Taehyung invited Seojoon to join, and he heard vague stories involving him when Sena would ramble about work. He never particularly liked him but didn’t hate him either. They just weren’t similar enough to be pals.  

He fucking hates him now.

He knew when he saw you with Seojoon, that someday, he would have to face you together. Because Taehyung is one of Jungkook’s closest friends, and Taehyung is also close with Seojoon. They worked together on a few projects, Taehyung works in marketing at an art gallery, so they often swapped ideas and collaborated on marketing ideas. Taehyung also often invited Seojoon to their bar outings and get togethers. It was only a matter of time before Seojoon brought you with him.

He was well aware of the connection. And he was fucking anticipating this day.

See, he wasn’t even going to come tonight. He planned on getting drunk and falling asleep alone like he has done many nights now. But then Taehyung told him some of the people that would be here, which included Seojoon and ‘his new girl.’ His new girl, aka Jungkook’s girl, he still stubbornly thinks. And oh, like the stray dog he is, he started fucking panting at the thought of being near you again.

So, he agreed. What he didn’t fucking agree on was Sena showing up. He rarely brings her out with him, because she’s not interested in spending time with him anymore anyway. But for some fucking reason, she insisted on joining tonight.

That didn’t sit well with him. Something was very off about it. But he couldn’t say no, he wouldn’t say no, because despite how cold she is, he won’t cast her out like she’s cast him out. Not until she forces him to. And if he is being one hundred percent honest, he doesn’t give a fuck why Sena was so persistent on coming tonight. Whatever she’s doing, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s beyond the point of caring. He has his sight fucking set on you.

He has been buzzing all fucking night knowing he would see you again. He’s been in a foul mood, everyone noticed too. He refused to say why, just blamed it on being tired from work. But in reality, it was because he was going to see you again, and he was going to see you with another man.

Hell on earth, he feels this is far worse than you leaving him… but he’s a masochist, he thinks. He was dreading it while simultaneously buzzing with excitement. He felt a rush at imagining seeing you for the first time in half a year with another mans arm around you.

He won’t admit it, but knowing he would see you again kept him going. It was only a matter of time, and he had all the time in the world to wait, even if it was for a single moment and you refused to ever see him again after that. And honestly, he knew damn well all bets would he off. He knew the moment he saw you, he wouldn’t fucking stop. He wouldn’t let you go again. He doesn’t give a fuck if you’re with Seojoon now… he needs you. In any fucking way you’ll allow it. Whether it’s a friend, or an enemy, or a stray fucking dog that circles your apartment until you finally let him inside. Jungkook has always been stubborn, but he has never been as stubborn as he is when it comes to you.

He’s a stray dog, after all. Starved of love and affection that you once provided so freely. Having the knowledge that at some point you’d cross paths again was like waving a fucking steak in his face. He drooled when he thought about it.

He didn’t expect to walk in and the first thing he hears when he sees you is Seojoon referring to you as his girlfriend. And he didn’t expect to feel so fucking resentful towards you for looking like you were ok. You definitely seemed tense, and he had a good idea as to why, but you weren’t falling apart. You were just fine. Was it truly so easy for you to move on?

There you were, sitting on the couch with another man’s arm around you while wearing his fucking jacket and chain he gave you the last time you saw each other. He fucking hates it. It feels like the ultimate betrayal, and although he knows he is so out of line for thinking this way, he just can’t help it. You wanted to move on, you have every right to, you both agreed this is what you needed.

But he’s a stray dog. And this is equivalent to seeing his previous owner loving on a dog who never knew what it was like to be a stray.

He has always been selfish when it comes to you. He knows his feelings are so fucking hypocritical, because you aren’t the only one who showed up wearing things that didn’t belong to you while with someone else, he did the same exact thing; he’s wearing the star pimple patches he stole from you that last night together. He doesn’t even have any pimples, he just likes them, and he doesn’t give a fuck if Sena scolded him for it. He wore them knowing damn well you would both be here tonight with other people, because he wanted you to notice him. He wanted you to remember.

He's so selfish for his train of thought and he knows it. He won’t even deny it… but he had been suffering this entire time, even when trying to do the right thing, yet here you are, sitting in front of him, and you looked totally fine… up until you saw him.

When you saw him, you looked like you saw a ghost. Because you fucking did see a ghost. He may have been aware of what was happening tonight, but the last thing you expected was seeing him here, too.

But even with the bitterness and resentment he’s irrationally feeling, even with the volatile thoughts going through his head, he still can’t stand to see you sitting there looking as if you wish he was someone else. Fuck, he’d do anything to just wrap you in his arms and cradle you and kiss your forehead and whisper sweet everything’s in your ear.

To fucking have you again.

But he can’t do that. And he can’t stand to see you look at him as if you wish he weren’t here right now.

Which is exactly how you’re looking at him. Because you wish so badly that he was not here right now.

“Calvin Klein is a great brand, I’m wearing them too. You have good taste.”

He winks at you, lifts his shirt a bit to reveal the waistband of his fucking underwear, which just so happens to be the pair you used to favor. They’re a light purple color, which makes his honey skin look fucking divine, and they’ve always been snug on him. The tiny flash of color brings memories back quickly, memories of you tugging on them with your teeth and trying to suck him off through the fabric. Fuck. You are so fucked.

He does this as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. Just two people who are meeting for the first time, conversing over a brand of clothing and underwear they both enjoy. He totally didn’t wear these on purpose knowing you’d be here tonight. He totally didn’t premeditate wearing this pair of underwear, or the pimple patches, or being here at-fucking-all.

It’s all too much for you. You can barely even take in the way his hair got so much fucking longer, or the fact that he looks bulkier which means he has been going to the gym more, or the fact that he smells the exact same and reminds you of fucking home. You’re having a very hard time keeping your composure right now, and it feels as if the room is closing in on you.

It’ll keep closing until you and Jungkook are smooshed together, and there will be no denying the fact that you never truly got over him like you convinced yourself, you just buried all the bad feelings.

This is what happens when you deny yourself the truth. You’re fine for a long time, until one day, something little or big can cause it all to come bubbling to the surface, and you can no longer deny it.

That is what’s happening. And you need some fucking air before you suffocate.

“I left my purse in the car. I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even look at anyone as you swiftly make your way outside. Everyone remains oblivious, and if you had any coherent thoughts right now you would probably be concerned about the fact that Seojoon didn’t even blink at the way your voice shook when speaking.

“Actually, babe that reminds me, can you go get my purse too? I left it in the backseat.”

Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. Maybe God doesn’t hate Jungkook after all, because what a perfect fucking excuse to get you alone without anyone batting an eye.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

You’re out the door before you can hear any of this. And if you did hear it, you just might steal Seojoon’s car and drive until the gas runs out, far, far away from here. But you have no idea that he’s trailing you right now, because where Jungkook may be gods favorite, god still definitely has it out for you.

You finally make it to Seojoon’s car, which is parked across the street on the curb. You place your palms on the window in hopes that the coolness will help calm your body because it feels like your blood is hot fucking lava right now.

You take deep breaths. Try to calm down the consistent zapping feeling and flies swarming your stomach that seem desperate to escape out of your mouth in the form of vomit.

You don’t like the fact that even though you felt dread when seeing Jungkook, for a single moment, the flies turned into butterflies again.

You don’t like the very sinful thoughts going through your head knowing that you now have access to him again.

Temptation is no joke, and you’re starting to question everything about the way you coped. Seeing him again surely would have fucked you up, it’s equivalent to seeing an ex who broke your heart, any other person would have probably been a bit shaken up… but this is so much worse. Because it isn’t just a passing glance or brief run in. Jungkook is Taehyung’s friend, who is also Seojoon’s friend. Jungkook is married to Sena, which is Seojoon’s coworker. They’re all fucking connected.

It is both thrilling and devastating.

“How cute that you showed up wearing my jacket while some other man’s hands are all fucking over you… does he know it’s mine?”

He doesn’t touch you, but he’s there. You feel his body heat behind you, and his palms come to rest right next to yours on the window. He has you boxed in, nowhere to fucking hide.

The lyrics from earlier come to mind, the lyrics that were very easy to ignore when Seojoon was terribly singing them:

‘But now there's nowhere to hide,

Since you pushed my love aside,

I'm out of my head,

Hopelessly devoted to you.’

Oh, how fucking fitting.

You don’t know why he’s doing this. He’s being kind of… argumentative. Unfair. Fucking childish, really. He’s never acted like this before… then again, time has passed, and feelings have obviously festered. Maybe he hates your guts now, because he clearly feels bitter about things ending.

You should push him away now. You should immediately set boundaries and tell him sternly that this isn’t ok, and he needs to keep his distance.

But you’ve only ever been so fucking weak for this man, and considering instead of pushing him away, you turn around to face him? You’re still very clearly too weak to be trusted around him.

The moonlight bounces off his face, and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you see light flicker in his eyes just like it used to. They aren’t as dark despite his pupils being blown still, but those little stars that you once loved so fucking much are glittering.

“Fuck.”

He has no idea what comes over him. But the moment you turn around, he expects you to do exactly as you should and push him away, scold him for being so irrational and impulsive and borderline disrespectful. But you don’t. Instead, your eyes mimic his, they fucking glitter and reflect the stars in his own. Asters dancing around in your eyes just like they used to.

That fucks him completely, to actually see that although you seem ok, you haven’t fully moved on like it appeared you had.

You both thought you each moved on, all because of some silly little Instagram posts that neither of you were meant to see to begin with. Nothing is as it seems, is it?

All an illusion.

He grabs your face, it’s so fucking impulsive and he knows it, but he loses control. He’s never been good at controlling himself around you, not unless you tell him no.

But you don’t tell him no. You don’t recoil and tell him to fuck off like you should. You let him.

Stupid girl.

He leans in, but doesn’t quite kiss you. He places his lips so close to yours that they brush together. You are fucking tense, it feels as if your bones could snap at how taught your body is, but you still don’t push him away. You need to, because what if someone walks out and sees? How the fuck would you explain that the man everyone assumes you just met is this close and touching you as if he’s fucking in love with you?

The secret would be out then. Oh fuck, what a mess that would be.

But all those thoughts fly out of the fucking window when he closes the distance. It’s soft, he doesn’t move his lips, he just lets them linger on yours. Both of you are fucking shaking like addicts who just got their first hit of their favored drug after being deprived.

You let out the smallest huff of air, and that’s all it takes for Jungkook to snap. He groans and begins kissing you ravenously. Tongue and teeth, love and hate, his hands leave your face and start wandering your body as if he’s mapping it out all over again. The stray dog finally got the fucking bone.

You kiss him back instinctively. Not much thought goes into it, it’s like your body just automatically responds after being deprived from him for so long. Your tongue tangles with his almost as if they’re fighting, your hands explore his body just as thoroughly as his does yours.

It’s like two planets colliding. Fucking chaos. It shouldn’t be happening, but it is, and neither of you are strong enough to stop it. The big-fucking-bang. The end and the beginning of the world all over again.

He grabs you by the waist and hoists you up, maneuvers your legs so that they’re wrapped around his waist and pins you to the car. Seojoon’s fucking car, by the way. He has no intention of going beyond kissing, because he knows there are lines that he won’t cross again unless you say so. Especially not so soon.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to get as close as possible to you and bury himself inside of your very soul all over again. The thoughts going through his head are borderline crazy; he’s thinking shit like he wishes he could just crawl inside of you and live there; he wishes you really would treat him like a stray dog, buy him a fucking collar with your name on it, and take him home to keep him forever. Fuck, he would wear it, too. He would eat food off of the floor and lick your fucking feet if you said he could come home with you one last time.

You have no regard for your surroundings for a few moments, or even the fact that if you stay out here for too long people might question why you’re both out here longer than necessary. All you can focus on is how he tastes… how he tastes and feels like home. How for the first time in months, your arousal is bordering on painful just from his hands touching you. You never get like this with Seojoon, and you’re sure you’ll feel guilty for that later.

This is so fucking wrong in so many more ways than it ever was before, but somehow feels so right.

When he left, both of your flowers died. You haven’t bloomed since, and neither has he. You’ve both been dormant as the seasons change. You’ve to get on with your lives… but in this very moment, the seeds are replanted as if it’s inevitable. Spring flowers are dead, but autumn flowers are blooming.

Neither of you will ever be the same for each other again, but this alone is proof that no matter what season it is or how long apart you are… you will always fucking reignite the life in each other.

You’re both lucky, too, because Seojoon and Sena remain oblivious inside. Neither have even noticed that you’re gone, they’ve already helped themselves to some food and are chatting about work.

You know you need to get back inside soon regardless of who has or hasn’t noticed, because eventually someone will come looking. You can’t ravish each other like animals out here, not like this. But just a little bit longer…

“Fuck Y/N I’ve missed you so fucking much.” It comes out as a groan, but he sounds so fucking needy that you feel like you could faint. The way his voice cracks makes you groan back at him. He’s going to kill you acting like this. What a way to die.

Fuck. You need to stop before you go too far. You aren’t sure that you can control yourself.

So with shaky hands, you push him away, nearly fall as your knees wobble when he lets you out of his grip. You’re panting, your lips feel electric, and they taste so potently like him. You point a finger at him and say weakly, “N-no. No. Stop.”

It almost sounds as if you’re scolding a dog… which is ironic considering the canine-poetry he often compares himself to. And of course he stops, but he wonders what the sudden change was. He’s being stupid as fuck, this entire situation he put you both in is stupid, which is fitting because he feels fucking dumb in love all over again.

“Why? Did I hurt you?” He asks dumbly as he wipes his mouth, his fingers are twitching with need to touch you again, but he refrains for now because you said stop. He may be a stray, but he does as he’s told…

Oh, how fucking Jungkook of him to immediately wonder if he hurt you. Because no matter how selfish he is, he will always worry about hurting you, he will never fucking forgive himself for hurting you.

You breathe out a laugh that isn’t out of humor, but out of irony. He’s worried about hurting you, as if that’s the worst thing that could happen here tonight… when you both came here with your fucking partners.

“No, fuck. Jungkook, your fucking wife is inside, and so is my boyfriend. This is wrong. Can’t do this again”

You hate that even with Jungkook, you now feel pressured to call Seojoon your boyfriend. It makes you cringe that he pushed that label on you, and your current confusing feelings do not help at all. Jungkook notices you cringe, too.

He doesn’t like that.

He mimics your laugh, runs a hand through his long hair and shakes his head. He averts his eyes now because he simply can’t stand to look at you. Not when you just called Seojoon your boyfriend when you so obviously don’t see him as such.

He feels himself start to get pissed. He knows he shouldn’t be getting angry right now, has no reason or right to. You’re doing what you’re supposed to do; moving on… but now you’re in front of him again.

And he wants to make it fucking impossible for you to move on.

“Yeah? Your boyfriend, huh? So you’re a liar now too?”

You flinch, your back is pressed against the cool car as you stare at him in shock. Yeah, he’s pissed. Which is making you feel both irritated and a bit intimidated, because his mood switched so quickly. One moment he's devouring you, the next he’s accusing you of being a liar.

You both are so great at moving on! Fucking bullshit.

“What? No, he is my—”

“Does he kiss you like I do?”

He takes a step closer.

Fuck. Please don’t.

“Don’t—”

“Does he touch you like I do?”

Another step closer.

“Does he fuck you like I do?”

And now you’re pinned to the car again. He isn’t touching, because you told him not to. But his body is nearly brushing against yours as he looks down at you. You have no idea what the fuck to say.

“Does he love you like I do? Would he ever fucking be able to love you like I did and still do to this day, Y/N?”

You can’t take it. Fuck. The one thing you never did was compare Seojoon to Jungkook. You may have thought about Jungkook, you may have had lingering feelings for him, but you never once compared Seojoon to him because that would be so fucking unfair. Not only would it be unfair, but you know that if you did compare him, you would never be satisfied.

You never even thought to compare Seojoon to Jungkook until now, because there is no comparison. No one could possibly measure up to Jungkook.

But now, he’s planted those thoughts in your mind like fucking weeds. No, Seojoon doesn’t kiss you like Jungkook does, he doesn’t even seem to enjoy kissing. No, Seojoon doesn’t touch you like Jungkook does, he refuses to leave marks made of love and passion because he thinks it’s tacky. No, Seojoon doesn’t fuck you like Jungkook does, he likes to stick to the same few positions and prefers you on top. And no, Seojoon doesn’t love you like Jungkook ever did, Seojoon doesn’t love you at all.

Fuck Jungkook for putting these thoughts in your head.

You’re pissed at this point. Pissed at him for crossing the line and trying to sabotage shit, pissed at yourself for allowing him to kiss and touch and fill your head with thoughts on how Seojoon is only a tree whereas Jungkook is an exotic fucking flower.

You push at his chest again and grit out, “Fucking stop, I am done.”

You told him to stop, so he should. But he already started… and he isn’t sure he can stop now, not when you are right in front of him, and your face says it all; Seojoon will never be Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t budge when you push him, he stays in place like a fucking boulder. Has definitely been visiting the gym more.

“Yeah? You think we’re done? We’re not done.”

He leans down until he is nose to nose with you, his breath washing over your face, hot and heavy.

“I said we’re. not. done. Understand?”

You fucking hate yourself in this moment. Because Jungkook has done a lot of little things in the past that make you go crazy, a single fucking look could make you drop to your knees and do anything he wants. But this? This turns you on in a way you have never experienced before.

It drives you crazy with anger, longing, and fucking passion for him. He’s crossing a line right now, pushing you in ways that are so fucking wrong considering you both have people waiting for you inside. He’s still married, and you technically have a boyfriend now. So you should tell him how full of shit he is for trying to tell you you’re not done. He can’t make decisions for you.

He knows this, too. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t push you to give into him again in some fucking way. He won’t let you go so easily this time.

But the way he says it… it’s as if he has never been more certain of anything in his life. Because he hasn’t. He is so serious when he says he’s not done. Neither of you are. He will make damn sure of it after the taste he had tonight.

You shouldn’t have planted that fucking seed.

The worst part is that you believe him. You know that look in his eyes, its determination. He won’t fucking stop until you tell him to never come near you again.

You don’t know if you can do that a second time.

You're about to scold him and tell him to back off, but you hear a whistle come from the house.

“Yo, Kook, come help me grill this pork belly.”

Yoongi stares at Jungkook’s back with an emotionless expression, there’s no mistaking how close he is to you right now and it has you so fucking on edge, because Yoongi sees it. What if he fucking tells someone?

This is the exact reason why you shouldn’t be sneaking around. Holy fuck.

It shouldn’t feel this good to sneak around with him again, especially when the stakes are even higher.

“Coming, was just helping Y/N with her purse.”

He stares you down as if to silently say ‘I am so fucking serious.’ And even though he looks borderline angry, there is no mistaking the devastating amount of love he still holds for you. Even when feeling jealous and angry and resentful, his eyes are still glittering when looking at you. It’s as if you’ve siphoned the life back into him.

He childishly pinches your waist, which causes you to squeak, and then he walks away, heading back towards the porch of the house where Yoongi lingers waiting for him.

You watch him the entire time, not sure what the fuck you’re doing or are going to do after this.

It really doesn’t help that before closing the door, Yoongi gives you a look as if to say, ‘I know your secret.’

Fuck, you are in so much trouble. What the fuck are you doing?

One thing is abundantly clear, though; this is either the start of something catastrophic, or it is the last time you will ever see each other again.

You just aren’t sure which one yet.

Yes you are.

You swiftly grab your purse from Seojoon’s car and reapply your lip tint in the mirror. You need to get back inside because now is not the time to start freaking out. People are waiting for you inside, one of which is a man that probably would never expect you to be out here kissing one of his ‘friends’ like a horny fucking teenager.

You have so much fucking thinking to do, but for now, you must pretend once again. You hope so fucking much that Jungkook behaves for the remainder of the night. Otherwise, you just might explode.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook angst #bts fanfction #bts imagines #bts smut #18+ only #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #i love jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #bts x reader

[bluemoonhoon]

safety net | park sunghoon

𓍯𓂃 fluff established relationship, no hurt just comfort, non idol!au, crying and cuddles on a bad day word count 1.2k works

every person experiences good and bad days throughout their lives; that's how it works. everyone hoped that good days overcounted the bad ones, and most of the time for you, they did. however; this week was not what you could consider a good week. life was beating you up from the moment you woke up to the moment you got out of work.

since the moment you and sunghoon decided to move in together your home became a haven for the both of you. it was not a necessity to be sharing the space every single moment for you to be happy; just things like each other's scents and mundane actions that reflected your personalities made being at home a bigger delight. and even though neither of you claimed to be clingy, the fact that your out-of-the-normal busier schedules overlapped denied you of spending time together was not helping with your mood.

you were in those moments where you felt overwhelmed just by simply existing, these feelings of exhaustion and fatigue were just being bottled up. normally, whenever either of you had a bad day you would rant with each other over dinner and hate the world together for at least an hour. but now that work requires you to leave earlier and for him to arrive until late at night puts your rant sessions on hold. you miss him, and so does he, you barely talk with each other in person, most of the time under soft and sleepy whispers at midnight; your communication relies on post-it notes around the house and texts during breaks.

but thankfully the weekend was coming and you would have the entire two days to spend time with him and catch up, you just had to hold on for the next eight hours and everything would be alright.

oh boy, how wrong you were.

between school work and actual work, you were juggling your time and running on caffeine, hence, having an extremely bad day that added to the list of bad things that happened in the week, from sleeping through your alarm and running out of the door, to forgetting to check the weather app leaving you sweating your ass off literally and figuratively since you also forgot to print an essay making you run to the library. to dealing with the awful mood of your superior at work and some rude customers you were sure everyone was struggling with their day.

you just hoped the moment you arrived home everything would start to fall into place and your stress would start to dissipate. and for a moment you thought it did, even though it was an empty apartment it still brought you peace of mind the fact that you could disconnect from life for a little bit.

that was until your bad luck decided it was not leaving just yet making your electric kettle stop working, or at least that's what you thought because the moment you touched it to figure out what was going on, the handle was incredibly hot surprising you and making you remove your hand quickly without realizing your elbow hit the cup you were about to use and making it fall to the ground breaking it. maybe it was the adrenaline rush of getting burned or the loud sound of the ceramic breaking that startled you. but from one moment to another, you were now crying without knowing why, you were not hurt but all the frustrations of the past few days just came out with your sobs.

crouched down in the kitchen your cries muffled all the sound so you didn't hear the door unlocking and you didn't expect sunghoon to be home so early so it was a shock for both of you.

"whoa, what happened?" he asked while getting close to you in a worried voice "are you hurt?"

"the kettle was not working - the handle was hot and I broke the cup," you said still sobbing.

"it's okay we can buy a new one, are you sure nothing hurts?" he questioned while examining you only for you to nod. after seeing you were, in fact, alright he helped you get up and walk around the broken pieces to take you to the couch in the living room.

even though he kept reassuring you that you could replace those things you still kept crying only worrying sunghoon more. he sat on his knees in front of you cradling your face in his hands and wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"what's going on love?" he asked softly.

"I'm not sure…" you answered him without looking at him. as if reading you he asked, "did you have a bad day?" while moving your head so you could finally look at him and you just nodded.

"do you want to talk about it?" he continued and you shook your head no. "it's okay we can talk about it later, we have the whole day."

your tears decreased while being close to him and you felt truly grateful to have someone like him in your life; someone who could share your burdens and be willing to pick you up the moment you fell down, sharing your life with someone as gentle and kind as sunghoon was the biggest blessing you could have in your life.

you joined him on the living room rug and hugged him in hopes of sharing the immense amount of love you haven't been able to express in this busy week. "I missed you so much," you whispered close to his ear.

"I missed you too, we haven't had the chance to talk a lot right?" he answered in the same voice level returning your hug tighter.

after a little bit still sitting on the floor you pat his hair while looking at him "why are you here so early? - I thought you were coming later" you now asked him.

"I thought it would be nice to share dinner after so long" he answered simply "I think we both need our usual rant sessions, don't you think?" he asked lightheartedly while caressing your now puffy eyelids, making you laugh and agree with him.

he looked at you with the most gentle eyes and the softest smile and it made your heart skip a beat, you got close to him again and lay your head on his chest while he gave you soft kisses on top of your head, both of you still on the hard floor but neither of you cared, his warm hold mixed with the scent of his perfume made you feel so comfortable and happy. both you and sunghoon were content with the fact that it was the first time in a while that you could spend time together without fighting sleepiness.

you had a lot of catching up to do and that would probably happen under the kitchen lamp with some takeout, but you felt thankful for the fact that you were in a relationship with sunghoon. you both knew that under every circumstance you would have a place to go to; you found peace in each other's company and safety in each other's arms knowing you found someone who loved you as much as you loved them.

#enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen #park sunghoon #sunghoon

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

-

Here's the 3rd part. Hoping to also get this one up quick. This story is really coming together in my head. Also, I know I promised smut, and so far have not delivered. That is coming, pinkly promise. We've got to get the foundation man!

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 3 - The Grey

Sleep was a wild idea, given everything I had learned last night. I couldn't seem to quit scrolling through Google, YouTube, listening. I felt as though I was educating myself. Learning, in some way, what I was getting into. I wanted to see what I could learn about him, but he was an overall private human, even for a musician.

I did learn he is a Scorpio, born on Halloween. Originally from Virginia. The names of his bandmates. He had quite a few wonderful songs that I had added to my iTunes quickly after hearing them. So far, my favorite was Limits, which was saying a lot, given Just Pretend was still so incredible.

Throughout all of my 'research', the most important fact I learned was that Noah was very good at hiding his alcoholism. I expected to see articles, tweets, or even a TikTok about some scandal. An arrest? A fight? A drunken performance? I found nothing.

I suspect Noah is what I consider a silent drunk. Someone who doesn't drink for fun, but for release. For something to escape to. This had to be true, because I found zero evidence of his addiction on social media or in the depths of Google. I even shamelessly searched 'Noah Sebastian alcoholic' and came up with some very strange fanfiction. Interesting thought...

This almost worried me more. This meant I was going into this blind. The rockstar lifestyle was something not only musicians lived. So how did he manage to do it so quietly? Was his publicist just that good? Did he even have one?

Despite my determination, sleep finally took hold about 4AM, me waking up at noon with the videos of their music still playing on YouTube. I slammed my laptop closed and wiped the drool from my lips.

I needed caffeine.

I slipped into my house slippers, and sauntered to the kitchen, Angel following behind. I heard his quiet whine, and quickly paced to the back door to let him out before he had an accident.

Once I had slurped down half of my energy drink and let Angel back in, I snatched my phone from my bedside table. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I checked through my notifications.

Given it was my day off, I wasn't surprised to see a text from Sam asking if I wanted to come in and help him with his case files. I didn't even open it. That should answer that question.

I opened my messages to reach out to Laura. Her and I needed to speak immediately.

Before I could open her thread, I noticed a message from Noah, which made my throat dry.

Noah: Hollywood Palladium. Doors open at 6PM, but you should get there about 5 to get into your suite. I'll text you once I get offstage and we can figure out how you'll smuggle me out. We go on before Motionless in White.

Noah: Thank you again, Leena. I know this is a pain for you.

This guy isn't actually real. He is sweet as honey. Smooth as butter. And wakes up at 6:30AM, apparently? Who the fuck is this guy?

Me: I'll be there. I haven't told Laura yet. Pray for me.

His response came quickly.

Noah: Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name...

I only responded with laughing emojis and flipped to Laura's thread.

Me: Can you talk?

This was our code. She was working and if she was busy, she would respond. If she wasn't, she'd call.

My phone vibrated in my hand immediately.

"Hey." My voice was a fucking mess. I realized I hadn't used it at all yet.

"What the fuck is up, Kyle? You getting sick?" I cleared my throat and sighed.

"No. Just woke up."

"Late night? You doing okay?" I could hear the concern. 3 years sober, didn't mean it wasn't still something to keep an eye on.

"Yeah babe, I'm good. I need to fucking talk to you, though."

"Sure, what's going on?"

I sighed, not even knowing how to begin. I couldn't exactly tell her the lead singer of one of her favorite bands was a newly recovering alcoholic. Not without permission.

"I uh..." My brain drew a blank. "have not thought this through."

The other end was silent.

"You sure you're okay?"

I sighed hard. "I met Noah Sebastian."

Now there was dead silence on the phone.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I've lost my mind. Can you repeat that?" Her voice was deadly.

"You heard me."

"Noah Sebastian? From Bad Omens?!" I could hear her voice raising some octaves.

"Yeah a few days ago."

"Fucking where?!" I had to hold the phone at a distance from my ear.

"At...my work." My brain worked overtime to work out this lie.

"I call bullshit." She is too good at seeing through me.

"Laura, would you fucking listen?"

"Noah Sebastian did not walk into a fucking mortgage office and just happen to meet my best friend, the loan officer. Bullshit."

"Laura, listen!"

"Fuck! Fine! What?!" I could feel her irritation.

"I have tickets to their show tonight. In their VIP booth."

"Did you help him buy a house or some shit?!" That actually wasn't bad.

"Possibly. Still up in the air."

"You're such a fucking liar."

"Do you want to go or not? We'll be seeing him after."

I could feel her jaw drop to the floor. "We're going to meet the band?"

"No, not the band. I don't think. Just Noah."

"Just Noah? Christ Mileena, did you fuck him or something?!"

"Absolutely not! Laura what the hell?!"

"What?? You don't even listen to Bad Omens." I scoffed at that.

"I fucking do now."

-

After a solid hour of interrogatories from Laura, planning on getting to the event (I would drive, obviously) and what we would wear, we finally hung up.

I had about three and a half hours before I had to leave to pick her up. I had enough time for a walk with Angel, lunch, and to get ready.

When Angel and I set out on the sidewalk, and I had set up my AirPods (3 guesses who I was listening to), my phone chimed with a text. I groaned. Didn't we get through enough details?

When I saw the text though, I was surprised to see Noah's name.

Noah: Hey, weird request, but could I call you for like ten minutes?

I was puzzled, but typed a quick affirmative response.

My phone rang a few moments later.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm sorry." His immediate apology confused me.

"Sorry for what?" I could hear him chuckle, his voice slightly hushed.

"Calling. I know it's weird." I half-smiled. There was a level of innocence to Noah that made me feel better about this entire situation.

"Noah, I'm your sponsor. You're allowed to call me any time, day or night."

"But what if I call you at 3AM cause I'm craving sugar?"

I shook my head, weaving down the sidewalk with Angel heeling nicely at my left.

"Then we go get ice cream?"

I could hear the smile in his voice. "No way. You don't mean that."

I proudly responded. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He only snorted in response. I did wonder why he needed to call.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm, yeah. We're at the venue. Did sound check a while ago. The guys cracked open some beers. I told them I was going to take a quick walk to get some air. I feel like they might know something." His concern was thick in his words.

"Ah, okay. Well, super proud of you for walking away. That's amazing on it's own."

"Yeah?" He sounded unsure.

"Oh, one hundred percent."

"Thanks Leena." He sighed. His voice then came out a little smoother. "Did you talk to Laura?"

"I did."

"And how did that go?"

I smirked. "Well, she doesn't believe that I met you at work, so now she's got horrific ideas of how I met you, but she's in."

This made him laugh. "Horrific like how?!"

"I won't repeat it. But either way, she doesn't know how we actually know each other. I'm struggling to figure out how I'm going to explain us giving you a ride home?"

He was quiet, my guess was thinking. "How well do you know her?"

"Better than anyone, why?"

"You trust her?"

"With my life."

"Tell her. It's easier that way. Just maybe ask we don't all chat about it?" This took me back. As private as he is, and he doesn't even know me that well? Why trust me, or someone I trust, with this secret? His reputation is somewhat on the line.

"You sure?"

"Should I not be?"

I sighed. "I wouldn't risk your good name Noah. I promise."

"Thanks Leena." I heard muffled voices in the background. "Hey, I've got to go. See you later?"

I agreed, and we disconnected the call.

-

The ride to the venue was mostly quiet, aside from the soft music on the radio playing.

"So...anything else I should know before we walk in there? Ronnie Radke isn't going to be hanging with us too, is he?"

I chuckled at this.

"Listen babe, I've got to tell you something."

She lifted her eyebrow in a knowing look. "Knew you were lying."

I shrugged. "Look, I'm going to tell you this, but this is covert level secrecy. No one can know. Or Noah is fucked. So promise me? Not even your husband gets to know?"

Her look turned more serious.

"Of course babe. Anything."

"I'm Noah's sponsor." Her jaw dropped open, almost unnaturally so.

"He's in AA too?" I nodded.

"He just started. And he needed a sponsor. I offered. He needed help getting through this show and the after party. So he's going to pretend to be sick after, meet us backstage, and we're going to smuggle him out and drive him home."

I could see the wheels in her head turning. She believed me now. She knew I never lied about AA.

"Oh my God, babe." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I pried too hard. Jesus, I feel like an asshole."

I waved her off. "Don't, my love. He gave me permission to tell you." She nodded at that, sitting back in her seat.

After a beat, she giggled to herself. "You sure are the luckiest sponsor ever." That made me laugh. I wasn't so sure yet.

-

The show was electric. The man on stage, singing, was a different person entirely. If it weren't for the fact that he made direct eye contact with me several times throughout the night, I would've never believed him to be the same shy, unsure, uncomfortable man he was in group. On stage, he was confident, he was in control, he was the leader, and the crowd, his flock. It was insane to watch, and I would be lying if I hadn't said I felt absolutely mystified at points. I teared up when they played Just Pretend, vehemently singing along. This was not lost on him, and I caught the smirk he got when he saw my glassy-eyed singing. No different than any other fan. That's okay, that's who I was for now.

We were to not be seen or noticed. We were shadows waiting to seamlessly remove him.

Once the set ended, and everyone waited for Motionless in White to come out, moving in and out of their seats toward the bars and bathrooms, Laura and I followed the security guard who had been told to allow us backstage.

I checked my phone a few times, but still had not heard from him. As we made our way to the meet and greet area, we saw the giant line of fans waiting for their band to show up. We slyly waited against a wall behind the line. We blended in.

"Have you heard from him?" I checked my phone again with no results.

"No, but I would bet he has to do meet and greet first. I don't strike him as the type to disappoint fans."

She nodded in agreement, so we waited.

After about twenty minutes, we heard screaming, and looked over to see them come out, waving at everyone waiting in line. I saw his eyes searching. Was he looking for us?

Pulling out my phone, I shot a quick message.

Me: By the trash cans.

He was talking to a girl with his face on her shirt when he slipped his phone from his pocket and his eyes immediately scanned and found mine. The smallest hint of a smile lifted his lips. I saw him turn his back for a moment, and turning back to sign autographs

Noah: Thought I lost you. M&G will be over in 45min. Meet me in the parking lot?

I sent a thumbs up, instructed Laura of our plans, and we began our trek to the car. Once in the car, I sent a quick location pin to him so he could find us. I got a response a few minutes later.

Noah: Just look for the ancient Tahoe. Roger that.

I rolled my eyes, and despite Laura watching her concert videos, she noticed.

"What?" I showed her my phone, and she smiled.

"Well, he's funny, huh?" I nodded.

"An absolute dork." She bit her lip, turning in my seat.

"Leena?" I looked up at her from my phone screen, looking at my own videos.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like him?" I paid little attention to the question.

"Oh sure, he's a nice guy." She put her hand on my shoulder, making me give her my full attention.

"No, Mileena," she pushed my phone down. "do you like him?"

This made me scoff. "Laura, I barely know him!"

"What's to know? He's a singer in a near famous band. He's got the voice of an angel. He's adorable." This made me roll my eyes again.

"I'm his sponsor." She threw her hands up.

"Is it illegal?" I shook my head.

"No, but it's awful and would make me a terrible human. And I work very hard to be a good human."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't believe that, but okay. I respect it." I smiled at her.

"Thank you Laura."

"But I still think you like him."

I was silent in response, not amused by her pushing.

“He has a girlfriend anyway, Laura.”

I watched her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “He does?!”

“Yeah, he told me yesterday.” I could see the disbelief on her face.

“I’ve never heard that. What’s her name?” I sighed, thinking back to our conversation the day before.

“He…didn’t say? Just mentioned he had one, and she didn’t know about AA yet.”

Her lips pursed. “Not buying it.”

This made my eyes widen.

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend but doesn’t even tell you her name? And doesn’t tell her he’s made a life changing decision to get well? I’m not buying.”

I rolled my eyes. “Christ, Laura, you’ve got trust issues.”

She pointed at me. “Facts. But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t believe it.” She sat back in her seat.

“I’ll just ask him when he gets here, no worries.”

This caused a flood of panic through me. “Please don’t! He’s not the type to talk about personal stuff. He’s actually pretty withdrawn.”

Her blank expression was telling. “Noah? Noah Sebastian? The guy who just went absolutely insane on that stage? Is withdrawn? Mhm, sure.”

I sat back in my chair and groaned.

“Please? That’s his personal business.”

She nodded. “Fine, but you should ask him.”

I didn’t respond, attention now on the text I had from him saying he was headed our way. I started the car, ready for a quick getaway.

After about ten minutes, I saw his tall frame in the doorway of the elevator, jogging over to the car. I snuck a glance at Laura, who looked as though she may absolutely burst.

“Here comes the rockstar.” She let out in a sing-song voice.

The back left door opened, and he slid inside the seat quickly, buckling his seatbelt and running his fingers through his long, and now greasy, hair.

“Hey!” My voice was about three pitches higher for truly no reason at all. This was not lost on my best friend, whose eyes I saw flash over to be before turning around and looking at Noah, eyes absolutely bulging.

“Jesus, it’s like trying to escape a wild pack of hyenas!” He sat back and sighed heavily as my truck backed out of the space and began moving down the aisle. “I mean the guys, not the fans.”

I looked up in my rearview. “Did you do like we talked about?”

“Yes. Made sure to gag as loudly as possible and everything.” I could see the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

He turned his attention to Laura, holding out his hand. “I’m so rude, I’m sorry.” She took his hand, looking absolutely stunned. “I’m Noah.”

All I heard from her was a weak ‘Laura’ in response.

Once we hit the darkened streets, putting the venue behind us, the tension in the truck relaxed.

I looked up in my mirror again, catching Noah’s attention.

“Do you mind if I drop Laura home first? She’s got to get up early for work tomorrow and her house isn’t very far.”

He smiled. “Of course. I’m all the way in Calabasas, so no worries at all.”

I just nodded. The ride was smooth for a moment, until I heard the familiar ring of an iPhone. It was Noah’s.

“Hello?” I couldn’t hear the voice from the other end. “Hey babe.”

Laura’s face whipped over to me, I’m sure seeing my expression darken ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’m not sure what happened, but I started feeling off before the set and by the end, I was throwing up.” He waited for the response. “No, uh…” he hesitated. “I actually haven’t drank at all today.”

Something in my chest swelled. I was such a proud sponsor. He was making an effort, and all I could do was appreciate it.

He nervously laughed. “Yeah, right? Shocking, I know.”

I could hear his tone. It broke my heart for him. I knew that conversation, I had many myself. When people don’t believe you haven’t been drinking, or are shocked to hear it. They’ll even go so far as to get angry at you for quitting. It’s a long, torturous road he’s set down, but hopefully with the right support, he will stay on track.

“Well I just caught an Uber, and I’m going to go home and pass out. Try to get over it.”

I made a conscious effort not to look at him, doing my best to respect his privacy. I could see Laura doing the same, scrolling through her phone.

“Yeah, uh, maybe we should wait until Monday? Make sure I’m not contagious, and all that?” His voice almost sounded brightened, but I was likely imagining things.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But do you want to catch this crap?” He made a sound of approval. “Thought so. I’m almost home so I’ll talk to you later babe.” He wasn’t, but okay. “Mhm, I love you too.” Slight poke to the abdomen. Nothing to worry about. “Bye.”

My hands relaxed slightly on the wheel. No one spoke for a little while. I could see his eyes just watching the streetlights fly past the window. He almost looked sad, but I couldn’t piece together why exactly. I could guess, however, that this is harder than he initially anticipated. It always is.

Laura shared my concern, so she spoke up.

“The show tonight was awesome, Noah! Better than the one back in November!”

This sure perked him, making him sit up in his seat. “Yeah? Thank you for saying that.”

“Oh fuck yeah, dude! Watching you guys play is spiritual, honestly.” This made him crack a wide grin.

I felt a poke on my shoulder, causing me to look up.

“What’d you think Leena? How was your first Bad Omens show?” I could see him searching for my answer, but he’s not the only one who could be a smartass.

I waved my hand in a topsy-turvy fashion. “It was alright.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, you cried during Just Pretend.” Laura was triumphantly smiling.

She’s so dead.

My cheeks were getting warmer, and I instinctively cracked my window. When did it get so hot in here?

Noah let out a giggle, an actual fucking giggle. “I thought I saw that.”

“Dude, how can you see anything up there? Fire? Smoke? Lights?”

He shook his head dismissively and flopped back in his seat. “Please. I can see anything if I’m looking for it.”

His words rang out followed by silence. Laura’s face was deadpanned.

What the fuck does that mean? In a literal sense, I get what he meant but wow, what an innuendo to make. Unintentionally, I’m sure.

The context wasn’t lost on Noah, who only cleared his throat, not speaking another word.

Luckily, we were already cruising down Laura’s street, stopping in front of her driveway.

“Welp, this is my stop.” She turned to look in the backseat. “Thank you so much for the concert. It really was awesome.”

This earned her a grateful head nod from him. “Anytime.”

She wouldn’t be forgetting that.

“I love you babes, call me tomorrow?” She wrapped an arm around me while I agreed to her request. She hopped out of the car and within seconds, she was gone.

“You want to stay back there, or hop up front?”

Without answering, a long leg reached over my console, plopping Noah in the passenger’s seat. I stared at him incredulously while he beamed at me.

I shook my head and put the truck back in drive, waiting for him to direct me to his house.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

[leclerced]

Just a thought on hitman!max and handler!reader...

What if max has never met his handler and only knows her with a specific accent or something (bc handler confidentiality). But she also goes out on missions (because you gotta get that bread ykwim) and they cross paths during a mission and he obviously doesn't realize who she is and she has to save his life because she's so much more experienced than him and he hates that so everytime they see each other he gets more and more pissed and they fuck about it. But after a while he starts suspecting something and he finds out somehow without her knowing and he keeps up the act bc he realises he's in too deep... But one time while she's handling him (lmao) he calls her by her real name and it all implodes and she shows up at his place (that only she knows about) and they fight and have nasty sex because they realise thay've found the only other person in the world that can handle each other's lifestyles...

I just think that would be hot ya know?

waittt this is fun! adding read more for general hitman!max warning.

he's angry that someone intruded on his fight the first time. he'd taken out his target and was out of the building when he bumped into some security, but whoever he's fighting drops dead as a gunshot rings out and he barely catches a glimpse of the mystery woman before she's gone. she lets him catch her, follow her back to a hotel bar where she orders them both a drink and waits for him to approach. she expects him to ask who she is, and gives him a fake name, and he knows it's fake but doesn't press on it right then. he asks why she keeps saving him. she teases him and says he's too pretty to die and it pisses him off because he definitely would not have died, he had it handled. he thinks her voice is familiar but can't place it so he hangs around to hear more, to try and figure out where he knows it from. they end up back in her hotel room and there's a fight for dominance before he has her pinned beneath him and she's begging for his touch.

she's gone when he wakes up and he has a text from his handler asking why he missed his flight, asking if he's okay, why he didn't check in. obviously, she knows exactly why, but she has to play the part of a concerned handler to throw him off her trail. it works, and he doesn't even consider she might be the mystery woman who saved his ass. it happens again a few weeks later on another hit, he's fighting someone and doesn't hear a second person enter the room until a gunshot goes off and the fighting stills for a moment as max and his opponent both search for the source of the shot. there's a dead body in a matching suit to his opponent, and when max turns, he sees the mystery woman with a gun. he briefly worries she's about to kill him but then the second shot goes off and his opponent is dead, the knife he was about to stab into max's ribs clattering on the floor.

reader teases him for getting distracted and he tells her he wouldn't have if she hadn't fired, and she counters that if she hadn't fired the other guy would have and max would be dead. he can't argue with that but he still tells her he had it handled even though he hadn't even noticed the other guy and would most certainly be dead like she said. they escape together and he tries asking why she's there and she tells him she was just saving his ass again, which bruises his ego because he certainly does not like being the damsel in distress.

she tells him her name after he finally saves her ass, he wasn't even on a job, just visiting someone in the city, but by pure coincidence he stumbles upon her, escaping the building he's residing in. he helps her take out the goons and she's just like him, adamant that she had it handled even though there were three men twice her size surrounding her. he tries to ask what she was doing there, but she won't tell him unless he tells her why he's there. she thought he was in italy and now he's in new york? she hasn't given him any work so she really has no clue what he's doing there and it bothers her that he won't tell her and she shouldn't tell him she's there to take someone out, no one is supposed to know and max catching her complicates things. she should kill him for it, because he's a loose end and if he's here then it means he just might be allied to whoever she took out in some way. but she can't do that.

she makes him promise not to tell anyone she was there, and he only agrees if she tells him her name. she panics and gives her real name, because if she gives any of her codenames he'll recognize it. there's no way he knows her real name. he agrees not to tell anyone he saw her, and keeps his word and stays silent the next morning when his host is freaking out about one of his superior officers being taken out in the dead of the night and no evidence left behind. he knows it was her, the mystery woman, and wonders what she was doing the night before.

it's awhile later that he connects the dots, she says something he's heard her say after fucking once and he calls her by her name before he can stop himself. the call immediately disconnects and he knows he's massively fucked up. he doesn't hear from her until hours later, there's a banging at his door and he's convinced she sent someone to kill him. max opens the door to find her, and relaxes a little but keeps his guard up because he thinks she might still kill him for what he knows.

she's just angry he used her name on an unsecured line and gives him an earful about it, about being reckless, asking if he wants to get them killed and he interrupts her by kissing her and while she's stunned into silence he apologizes for it, says he wasn't thinking and asks if he can make it up to her. she wants the power, she's still angry about her using her real name, but he won't give it up for her because he likes being in control, he loves the way she can take control from him but he's not used to being out of control so he takes it back each time.

they have to talk afterwards, and she apologizes for not telling him who she was in the beginning and she comes clean about all the extra jobs she does, how she's not just his handler and explains why she was in each of the cities performing her own odd jobs while he was performing hits for her, admitting that sometimes she used him as a distraction while she performed her job then stumbled across him and decided to interrupt it and make him leave with her because her job was done.

#ask #anon #hitman!max

[aita-blorbos]

FAQs

You've asked, and we've answered! ...a lot! Here's a compilation of (most of) the questions we've been asked, all in one place.

What types of submissions are not allowed? Anything that 1. makes the mods uncomfortable or 2. is inaccessible (... for people using screenreaders, for people with low vision, for people with migraines, etc). There's a list here, but that's just stuff that's come up often enough we feel the need to mention it. A good rule of thumb is that the closer it is to any real-life horrible thing, the less inclined we are to post.

Genocide, especially if your ask can be summed up as "AITA for submitting/being the victim of genocide?" (Also, if you explicitly term what the POV character has done as genocide, we immediately stop caring about if that's actually accurate.)

SA of any kind, especially if your ask can be summed up as "AITA for committing/being the victim of SA?"

Incest, especially if it is really central to the submission (Also, we may have a different definition of incest than you, so be warned in advance in case your submission that you thought was fine gets sent back or deleted.)

Suicide, especially if your ask can be summed up as "AITA for committing suicide/making someone commit suicide?"

Extreme violence towards children, especially from the POV of the person doing the violence.

Anything that could be alternately summed up as "AITA for being a bigot?" Yes, fictional bigotry counts.

Submissions about real people.

Harry Potter submissions.

All-caps asks. Depending on what software is being run, this can mess with screen readers.

Small-text asks. These are hard to read for people with low vision.

Leetspeak asks / typing quirks of any kind. Again, screen readers, but this time it's for all of them.

Colored text. It can cause migraines.

... For the last four, if your ask makes minor use of caps, small text, leetspeak, or colored text, it will probably get posted with tags like "small text," "not screenreader friendly," or "colored text."

Excluding, to the best of our ability, Harry Potter, we do not delete submissions based on what the source material depicts. 9 times out of 10, we don't know what the source material even is.

Can I submit something about real people if they've been dead for a long time? We would still prefer that you not. If your media of choice is something like SIX, Hamilton, Our Flag Means Death, or any other fictionalized account of real peoples' lives, we may choose to delete your submission even if we recognize the fandom... or there may not be enough to distinguish it from real life, and delete it because we thought you were submitting something about the real Anne of Cleves.

What about Jesus? Jesus was probably a real person but we'll make an exception.

Are 'sequel' submissions (the same scenario from another point of view, a followup, etc) allowed? Yes! However, it's up to you to figure out a way to tie back to your previous ask. You are welcome to do this in the form of a reblog, but we probably won't see it.

Can I submit an ask about my OCs/fanfic/roleplay/other non-canon thing? Sure! Though if you're submitting something about someone else's fic, we'd prefer if you had the author's permission. Same principle with roleplay--everyone involved should be OK with it going here. (We won't know if you don't have permission, but we'd like to remind you that it's polite to get it.)

Do I have to tell you if I’m submitting something from a fic/roleplay/AU/OC/whatever?

You do not! You can if you want to but it doesn’t make a difference to us.

Can we post stuff that has spoilers for X media? Yes*. * Please don't send in submissions for stuff that's less than a month old, as we can't realistically tag spoilers.** ** The exception to this is remakes/adaptations/remasters/etc, which we don't consider to be "new"*** *** Unless something new actually is added, in which case only that specific thing is considered "new." So, if you have a scenario that utilizes that specific thing, please wait a month. If not, you're good.

Can I ask if you've gotten my submission/if it's been queued? Yes, but only off anon, and we will only tell you if it's in the queue or the askbox. We want to answer asks like this privately instead of clogging up peoples' dashes with them, and we do not want to dig through our blog for a specific post. You do that.

If I submitted something off anon, will you let me know if you decide not to post it? Yes, we will answer your ask privately to tell you why we do not want to post it.

How many times do you post a day? 12 posts are published a day.

Can you post more? No. This is an irritating question. You are encouraged to make your own blog if you don't like the way this one is run--we don't have a monopoly on this idea!

How long is the queue? A few days to a week, usually, including stuff in the askbox that hasn't been properly queued.

What do these acronyms mean? YTA = you're the asshole NTA = not the asshole (this means someone else is) JAH = justified asshole NAH = no assholes here ESH = everyone sucks here INFO = more information is required to make a decision

Some of the characters I want to post about are nonbinary. how should I format my submission? We do not require submissions to include the age or gender of any characters. However, if you want to include this, what we've seen other people do say is 18NB or 18X.

Can I put trigger tags at the top of my submission? Yeah that's fine! We also try to tag common triggers, although we don't tag for murder or human death because so many of these stories involve murder.

Right now we tag: - Unreality (every post) - Animal death - Suicide - Rape/CSA - Child harm/death/endangerment - Abuse - Kidnapping - Stalking - ... And a whole bunch of other stuff

All our trigger tags are just the trigger with no CW/TW

#not aita #faq

[copperbadge]

Hi! I'm the ADHD writer therapy anon. Forgot to add you might want to look for therapists specifically trained in CBT/DBT techniques. That's what mine uses. I think you can filter for it on PsychologyToday. Adding also that I love your writing & have been following you for 20 years! Love to Dearborn & Polk.

Aw, thanks! I gave them a cuddle for ya :) And thanks for being such a loyal reader!

I'm wary of CBT/DBT but mainly from reading about them; I suspect while they're perfectly fine as therapeutic techniques, I wouldn't respond well, but who knows. I'm going to talk to my meds psych when we meet next week, and see what he thinks.

What I would find ideal is a therapist I can just do text chat with -- not like "oh I text them whenever I need to talk", but we schedule an hour and sit down and have a session on Slack or something instead of face to face talking. I understand why this isn't really on offer -- they want to be able to gauge tone, which you often need voice/expression for, and even these days a lot of people aren't super proficient in chat-style dialogue. And that's legit, of course as someone treating a Feelings you want to be able to see the Feelings. But I would actually find it much easier to talk about things, I think, if I didn't have to speak, or read their voice/expression in response. Plus reading is faster than listening and if they're figuring out what to say I can do other stuff while I wait for a response. But if nothing else I suppose it's good practice in paying attention.

Part of the problem is, and this is probably the ADHD, I tend to lose sight of specific points I want to make when I'm in conversation with someone, so they end up only getting half of what I tried to say, or a rambling story without a point, and I don't realize it until later. I'm better at it than I used to be, but I'm still considering just writing out what I want to ask my meds psych about instead of trying to explain it verbally. I bet when you do that most people probably make you read it out loud, though, which sounds excruciating.

#sam has adhd #mental health #therapy

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Thirteen

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Acting Addicted

Summary: Sherlock begins a new case, and he goes "undercover." (Y/N) goes along with his interesting new methods.

            “Alright, so, you understand what’s going to happen?” said Sherlock, sitting across from (Y/N).

            “You’re going to pretend to take drugs to go undercover and find out what you can about Magnussen, the man who took letters from Lady Smallwood and is blackmailing her,” said (Y/N).

            “And?”

            “You’re going to pretend to be interesting in Janine because she’s Magnussen’s assistant in his legal business,” said (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Sherlock, nodding. “And remember that no matter how I act with Janine, I don’t love her—”

            “I know,” said (Y/N), waving a hand.

            “—and no matter how I act when I go undercover, I am not doing drugs again,” said Sherlock. “Even if I have to take a compound that will simulate drug use in the case of someone testing me.”

            (Y/N) nodded curtly. They understood and were thankful Sherlock wasn’t putting them through that again. Due to their mother dying of a drug overdose, (Y/N) was uncomfortable around drug users, and years ago, when Sherlock had first taken them in, he had realized and stopped his use to make them more comfortable.

            Of course, now (Y/N) also knew that Moriarty had encouraged their mother’s drug abuse until her death, which added another layer of trauma to it since they always remembered Moriarty alongside drug use now, but they trusted Sherlock to do the right thing.

            “Thanks, Dad,” they said.

            Sherlock nodded. He wanted them to know the entire plan from the beginning so that they weren’t uncomfortable or worried. Plus, he had hurt (Y/N)’s trust enough when he pretended to be dead for two years. He wouldn’t do that again.

            “How can I help with the case?” asked (Y/N).

            “Don’t scare Janine off,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “She thinks I’m weird. I can’t change that.”

            Sherlock nodded and furrowed his brow. It would be difficult to feign interest in Janine. Of course, it went against his true feelings, but it would also prove challenging because Janine clearly thought (Y/N) was a strange teenager, and if there was one thing Sherlock couldn’t stand, it was people being rude to (Y/N).

            “But I won’t deduce her or anything,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock nodded. They both knew that was the best they could do.

            “John’ll figure out you’re ‘taking drugs,’ ” said (Y/N). “Should I act betrayed and upset?”

            Sherlock considered. “Nothing over the top. Just be…quiet. Less confident to speak.”

            “Is that how I am?” asked (Y/N). When their mind got fixated on drug use, they often lost focus on other things, so they were never sure how they were acting. Anxiety does that to a person.

            Sherlock nodded.

            “I’ll work on that,” said (Y/N).

            “It is fine to have issues with some things,” said Sherlock. “You still handle cases well when they involve drugs. You don’t shut down. You’re resilient.”

            (Y/N) sat up at the praise. “I’ll do my best for this case.”

            “I know,” said Sherlock. He stood. “I’ll first ‘accidentally’ meet Janine. The drugs will come later.”

            “Call me if you need help once it gets to that part,” said (Y/N).

            “Only if you then call Lestrade,” said Sherlock. He wasn’t letting his kid go to a house with drug addicts and dealers alone. Even if most were harmless, he wanted (Y/N) to be accompanied by an official just in case.

l

            A few weeks later, (Y/N)’s phone rang, and (Y/N) glanced over to see John’s name on the screen. Undoubtedly, this meant John had somehow found Sherlock “using” again. If it wasn’t serious, he would just text.

            “Hi, John,” said (Y/N), accepting the call. At least Janine wasn’t in the room and listening in. She would be all “worried” and coo over poor Sherlock. So annoying.

            “(Y/N)…You better get down to Bart’s,” said John, speaking hesitantly. “Sherlock…I found him in a…I’m really sorry, (Y/N), but he’s using again.”

            (Y/N) was impressed that Sherlock’s acting had worked so well, even against John. Of course, they’d do their part, too. “…He is?” they said, short, to the point, and quiet.

            “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” said John. “You don’t have to come down.”

            “I will,” said (Y/N), keeping their voice monotone so that the lack of emotion seemed to be stemming from a shut-down (which (Y/N) experienced from time-to-time with their emotions when they were too overwhelming to be expressed). “I want to see him.”

            “Alright,” said John. “We’re in Molly Hooper’s lab.”

            (Y/N) didn’t bother responding and closed the call before standing up. It was time to go to Bart’s and really try acting. They supposed they were lucky they didn’t show many emotions anyways. It made this easier.

l

            (Y/N) walked into Bart’s Hospital and headed to Molly’s lab. Inside were two men they didn’t recognize, John, Mary, Sherlock, and Molly. They pushed the doors open, and everyone looked at them.

            “Oh, (Y/N),” said Mary, glancing between Sherlock’s shabby appearance and (Y/N). She had heard from John that (Y/N) had issues surrounding drug, so this worried her.

            “Can we take him back to 221B?” said (Y/N), purposefully avoiding Sherlock’s face to seem ashamed and nervous to be around him.

            “Right, yeah, of course,” said John hurriedly.

            “Ah! Finally!” exclaimed Sherlock, looking at his phone.

            “Finally what?” asked Molly in confusion.

            “Good news?” asked one of the other two boys.

            “Oh, excellent new—the best,” said Sherlock. “There’s every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is on.” Some cover and misdirection was set.

            “You’re acting proud while (Y/N) is right here?” hissed John. He grabbed Sherlock by the arm and dragged him towards the door. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

            Molly and Mary exchanged glances as John dragged Sherlock out and (Y/N) followed without even looking at him.

            “Poor (Y/N),” said Molly. “It’s been so long since Sherlock did anything because he didn’t want to use around them.”

            “And all for a case, he claimed,” said Mary, shaking her head. “I thought (Y/N) mattered more than that.”

            “I hope they’re okay,” said Molly.

l

            (Y/N), John, and Sherlock sat in a cab as it drove towards Baker Street. (Y/N) had purposefully taken the farthest seat in the cab so John was between them and Sherlock to keep up the “hesitant and nervous to be near a drug user” act to go along with Sherlock’s “I’m using again” act.

            “You’ve heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course,” said Sherlock to John, getting into the case. Even if he didn’t need to know everything going on was an act quite yet, there was no reason not to investigate with his best friend.

            John expected (Y/N) to answer since the pair usually bounced ideas off each other, but one glance at (Y/N) staring straight out the window and tapping their fingers in a self-soothing pattern told him all he needed.

            John cleared his throat. “Yeah, owns some newspapers—ones I don’t read.”

            The cab pulled up in front of 221 Baker Street, and the trio disembarked and headed to the door.

            “What is my brother doing here?” muttered Sherlock as he approached at the door. “He’s straightened the knocker,” he remarked to John in explanation. “He always corrects it. A part of his OCD. Doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.” Sherlock un-straightened the knocker and walked inside.

            John and (Y/N) and found Mycroft sitting on the stairs up to 221B and staring, unimpressed and a little disappointed (if (Y/N) read him correctly, and they usually did), at Sherlock.

            “Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce,” he said plainly.

            “What are you doing here?” said Sherlock.

            “I phoned him after I called (Y/N),” said John, crossing his arms.

            “The siren call of old habits. I would have thought (Y/N) gave you a reason to stop for good,” said Mycroft.

            (Y/N) had to fight not to raise an unimpressed brow at being used as a guilt-trip (even if it was right).

            “How very like Uncle Rudy—though, in many ways, cross dressing would have been a wiser path for you,” said Mycroft.

            Sherlock crossed his arms and glared at John sullenly. “You phoned him.”

            “ ‘Course I bloody phoned him,” shot back John.

            “ ‘Course he bloody did,’ ” said Mycroft, a little bit making fun of John’s coarse phrasing. “Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?”

            Good thing Sherlock did buy drugs and stash them, thought (Y/N).

            “Mr. Holmes?” called Anderson’s voice from upstairs.

            “For God’s sake!” shouted Sherlock, actually a bit annoyed now since he found Anderson irritating. He stormed upstairs, and John, Mycroft, and (Y/N) exchanged looks before following him.

            “Anderson,” seethed Sherlock, glaring at Anderson, who was alone with an assistant of sorts as he searched the flat.

            “I’m sorry, Sherlock. It’s for your own good,” said Anderson, only too pleased to rummage around 221B.

            “Oh, that’s him, is it?” said his assistant. “You said he’d be taller.”

            Sherlock sat down in his armchair and glared at Mycroft for letting these two into his flat.

            “Some of your little fan club. Do be polite,” said Mycroft superiorly. “They’re entirely trustworthy and even willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat.”

            “Stay out of my room,” said (Y/N) to Anderson and the woman, crossing their arms.

            “You’re a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can’t afford a drug habit,” admonished Mycroft, ever the older brother.

            “I don’t have a drug habit,” said Sherlock, to all the world seeming to be an addict claiming to have everything under control but really telling the truth.

            “Hey, what happened to my chair?” said John, staring at the empty space.

            “It was blocking my view of the kitchen,” said Sherlock.

            “Well, it’s good to be missed,” muttered John sarcastically.

            “Well, you were gone. I saw an opportunity,” said Sherlock.

            “No, you saw the kitchen,” snapped John.

            “What have you found so far? Clearly nothing,” remarked Mycroft to Anderson and his assistant.

            “There’s nothing to find,” said Sherlock, this time actually lying.

            Mycroft raised a brow. “Your bedroom door is shut. You haven’t been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?”

            “Sherlock, you did it in the house?” said John. “(Y/N) is here.”

            (Y/N) intentionally shifted their weight “uncomfortably” and looked away.

            “There’s nothing in here,” said Sherlock resolutely.

            Mycroft moved towards Sherlock’s bedroom, and Sherlock sprung up from the chair. “Okay, stop! Just stop! Point made.” He pretended to glance guilty at (Y/N), and they avoided their gaze. Sherlock didn’t betray his emotions, but he was quite proud of (Y/N)’s acting.

            Mycroft tutted. “I’ll have to phone our parents, of course. Won’t be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line dancing, but they did have such high hopes when you stopped after taking in (Y/N).”

            Does everyone just use me against Sherlock to make him feel bad? thought (Y/N). It’s getting a bit old.

            “This is not what you think,” said Sherlock. “This is for a case.”

            Mycroft looked at him dubiously. “What case could possibly justify this?”

            “Magnussen. Charles Augustus Magnussen,” said Sherlock.

            Mycroft’s condescending smile dropped. He turned towards Anderson and his assistant. “That name you think you may have just heard, you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you—on behalf of the British Security Services—that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don’t reply—just look scared and scuttle.”

            Anderson obeyed. He grabbed his assistant and “scuttled” out of 221B. (Y/N) watched him go in satisfaction.

            Mycroft looked at John. “I hope I won’t have to threaten you two as well.” He already knew (Y/N) wouldn’t be threatened.

            John crossed his arms and just looked back. He was there to stay.

            Satisfied, Mycroft turned back to his brother. “Magnussen is not your business.”

            “Is he yours?” said (Y/N), allowing themself a moment to speak about the case curiously. It wouldn’t interrupt the acting.

            “You may consider him under my protection,” said Mycroft.

            “I consider you under his thumb,” said Sherlock.

            “If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me,” said Mycroft warningly.

            “Okay. I’ll let you know if I notice,” said Sherlock, getting up and heading to the door to open it. “What was I going to say? Oh, yeah, bye-bye, brother.”

            Mycroft narrowed his eyes and walked up to Sherlock. “Unwise, brother mine.”

            Sherlock seized Mycroft’s arm below the elbow. He twisted it upwards and slammed Mycroft face-first into the wall. “Brother mine, don’t appall me when I’m high,” he snarled, really in the act.

            “Mycroft,” said (Y/N) quietly, letting all attention go to them. “Just go. Please don’t make it worse.” They intentionally let everything see “discomfort” at Sherlock acting like an aggressive drug addict to guilt everything. (Even Mycroft was weak to them. After all, he was their uncle).

            Sherlock let go of Mycroft, and the older brother rubbed his arm and narrowed his eyes. But to placate Sherlock and (Y/N), he just grabbed his umbrella from where it leaned on the wall and walked out of the flat.

            Sherlock, John, and (Y/N) were left behind. (Y/N) squared their shoulders. They knew what else they had to be prepared for. The acting wasn’t done yet.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

#a study of the heart and brain #x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #nb reader #x nb reader #sherlock x teen!reader #sherlock x teen reader #x teen reader #x teen!reader #teen reader #teen!reader #father figure #found family trope #found family #platonic x reader #platonic #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock & co #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #parentlock #sherlock holmes x reader

[outofangband]

in response to an ask from @justpostsyeet about what Laws and Customs of the Eldar say about sexual assault

under a cut for non graphic discussion of this!

also thank you to @undercat-overdog for helping me find the relevant passage that I literally had memorized but could not find (seriously I spent like an hour reading through Morgoth's Ring and could not find the part I needed, my fault for researching when half asleep but anyways, Undercat saved this post!)

The ask: Hi, hope your having a good day/night (maybe this request doesn't worsen your day). I honestly love your posts and I've a thing that I want to ask to you.

Maybe you has done this before but what do you think the elves view on sexaul assault must be?

And even if it's true what must be the reaction of elves when the a) hear about such news, b) witness such cruelty, c) experiences such awful things themselves .

I know it's a very sensitive topic and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable so, ignore it if you want. I've my own headcanons but I just wanted to know your opinions.

My response: this does not worsen my day! I'm sure you know this from my posts but I write a lot of darker topics and I'm fine discussing this! Indeed, I enjoy discussing darker topics, I can find it very cathartic to write about

Thank you so much for the ask and for thinking of me!

The concept that elves cannot survive sexual assault comes from Laws and Customs of the Eldar, an essay style section of Morgoth's Ring, in the Histories of Middle Earth. In LaCE, as it's often known, Ælfwine, or Elfwine, a pre canon character in The legendarium is credited with the editing of this text as well as other parts of the histories of Middle Earth adding another aspect of meta to it.  

LaCE is a controversial essay. Many consider it to be precanon or non canon. Others consider it an in universe philosophical or religious work rather than biological facts or universal standards for the elves. I think this interpretation is probably accurate

The relevant part you're talking about is a footnote in response to this line of LaCE Even when  in after days as the history is reveal many of the Eldar in Middle Earth became corrupted and their hearts darkened by the Shadow that lies upon Arda seldom is any tale told of Deeds of lust among them.

The footnote reads ...But among all those evils there is no record of any among the elves that took another spouse by force for this was wholly against their nature and one so forth would have rejected bodily life and passed to Mandos. Guile or trickery in this matter was scarcely possible even if it could be thought that any elf would purpose to use for it; for the Eldar can read in the eyes of another whether they be wed or unwed 

I agree with you that it's probably not the case that sexual violence instantly leads to death.

I think it's fun to play around with whether or not LaCE is a, canon or b, strict biological law! Generally I go with it not being so but there is a lot of fascinating ideas that can be explored, if often horrifying ones, treating it like that! (the idea that elves can tell in the eyes of another if they're married or not is FASCINATING even if the idea that such a phenomena would prevent sexual violence is...troublesome...)

On the basis of LaCE not being biological law though, there are a few possibilities for this inclusion (note: these are in universe possibilities, not a complete list of reasons why Tolkien might have included it)

a, an in universe narrator trying to mitigate or cover up the fact that this did indeed occur

b, as in most versions he appears in, Ælfwine is not an elf but a human, this could simply be an idealistic notion or misconception or even misunderstanding or mistranslation

c, sexual violence is a taboo subject in many human cultures, it's certainly not implausible that it was treated similarly the elves. Even if it's not an attempt to cover up actions by well known figures in the history of the Eldar, it could be a denial of cultural traumas or a refusal to reckon with a certain kind of pain

The fact that it specifically reads 'no record of any taking the spouse of another by force' is somewhat strange. Obviously, non married people can be the victims of assault (and people can be victimized by those they're married to; it's worth noting here that Tolkien did seem to realize both, some of the primary, and only, instances of rape in the legendarium are instances of marital rape)

A...generous reading is that it is worded like this because the footnote appears in relevance to the section about marriage and this is meant to discuss specifically how certain trauma affects the marital bond, something that LaCE defines as a spiritual and physical matter.

(Plenty of horror you could potentially explore there; spouses actually feeling the pain and trauma of their partners due to this bond, whether trauma from this kind of violence or other)

What I do think is true is that elves have a stronger connection between body and mind and soul and that severe trauma of any kind can lead to physical consequences up to, including and beyond death of the body. This is of course not unheard of in humans, stress takes a physical toll. But for elves I think this connection is perhaps more profound.

This is not limited to sexual assault and indeed most of the instances we see of this in canon are not related to sexual assault.

It's worth noting that there are some troublesome aspects of Tolkien's wording. Obviously the linking of sexual assault and lust is not entirely accurate. Desire and lust often do not play a role in sexual violence; power and control perhaps being more pertinent. Then of course the fact that it says 'no record of one taking the spouse of another by force' is also questionable as I talked about above.

In conclusion, I think like the rest of LaCE, it makes more sense as the philosophy of one group or individual rather than biological reality.

Finally, I'll note that the two primary examples I can think of in the works of victims of sexual violence who "choose" death or at least leaving body or life in some form or another are not elves but are Aerin, a human, and Arien, a Maia (Arien's example also not being strictly canon), both of whom choose fire. (also I think that whether or not Aerin died is actually ambiguous and is certainly not definite, that being said the idea that she did is a perfectly plausible reading) Also why are their names so similar...

#the silmarillion #musing and meta #HoME #LaCE #the hidden hours

[silverflamedqueen]

Stages of Regret( Chapter 3)

After a disastrous Christmas party. Nesta Archeron decided to leave behind her old life, to start anew. Now a year and a half later. Her past has come back to haunt her.

For the third time that day Nesta had checked her phone. Without a doubt, She gave off the appearance of someone who had been stood up. The couple sitting a few booths across seemed to notice. As she’d caught them staring more than a handful of times. Empathetic glances were exchanged between the two. The woman, a tall blonde, had started to get up. Only to be stopped by the ring of a bell. Alerting waitstaff that a new patron had entered. Every woman, the blonde included, stared at the hulking figure that just strode in. Better late than never.

Nesta took a sip of her coffee as Cassian took a seat in front of her. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, causing a few loose strands of hair to cling to his face. He gave her an apologetic look. “ Hey, sorry, I got caught up with inventory.”

“The waitress has already asked me where my better half was.” She mused, leveling her gaze on him. Cassian sighed  “ You agreed to meet here, didn’t you?” She did. She missed their food. But, regret now clawed at her. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Before she could reply, the bubbly waitress from earlier had returned. Placing a cup of coffee in front of Cassian. “ There you are. Shame on you for making your girl wait.” She swatted his shoulder lightly. “ Been a while since I've seen you two. How have you been?”Cassian gave her a welcoming grin. “ Oh, just been busy. I upgraded the gym recently. And added a new ring to it. We have a new promotion going on too.” She looked to Nesta next. Her eyes gleamed. “ My new job requires me to work nights. It’s also not very close to here.”

“Well, that sucks. Either way, I'm glad you're both here now. Can I assume you guys want what you always ordered? I still remember.” She tapped her forehead. “Yes.” Nesta and Cassian both replied at the same time. Which elicited a giggle from the waitress. The food was delicious here. They made her favorite Strawberry crepes. She never could find another place that made them the same. She’d even tried making them at home to no avail. Cassian called them crack crepes. He’d always ask if she needed to get her fix. “I'll put in that order.” With a smile, she was off.

Without another word, the waitress bounced away. Cassian spoke again. Skipping any pleasantries, he went straight into why they were there. she was thankful. This was already awkward enough.  “I want to be involved in everything.” Determination and sincerity laced his tone.“ I also want to start providing for our daughter too.” Nesta’s heart skipped. As dread set in, or was it anger? Did he think she couldn’t provide? She must’ve started to make a face. As he immediately continued, his tone softening. “ I’m not saying you can’t. Despite that ramshackle apartment of yours. You've provided extremely well for her and yourself. I’m not judging you, I promise.” He put his hands on the table. “ I just want to help too. I don’t want to be my father.” Nesta felt the scowl that had started to form slip. Any anger dissipated, As his eyes met hers.“ You’ll never be your father, Cassian. If there's anything I know for certain, it's that.” Cassian’s father had always been a sore subject for him. It was something they had in common.

The man abandoned Cassian and his mother when he was five. His mother raised him the best she could, which was in borderline poverty. In the end, she focused so much on her son and cared too little for herself. Cassian was 12 when she passed. It had wrecked him. To this day, it still has.

Cassian would never be his father. The words she spoke rang true. The man had her number for a week. He then proceeded to text her daily, asking how Evie was doing and requesting pictures of her. Already a doting father. Nesta obliged his requests of course. She considered herself lucky. Most of the women she knew. Who were single parents. Would kill for the father to actively want to be in their child’s life. Most never were though. So they became hardened, determined to be both parents. Something she highly respected. It took a toll on them though, she saw it. Nesta herself had days where she wanted to just give up. 

“ Okay, um well, Evie’s Birthday is in a few days. I mentioned it a couple of days back. We’re going to have a party at my place. There's a dress code though. You have to wear Pink. It’s a Pink party.”  Cassian snorted, His eyes dancing with amusement. He knew her aversion to the color. “ Alright, I can do Pink. It's her favorite color I assume?” Nesta nodded.

“ I brought up wanting Evie to know her family. And I have an idea.” Cassian leaned forward. As if ready to pitch her a business idea. “ We introduce her one at a time, spaced out of course. What do you think?” Nesta’s stomach twisted. “ We?” She forced out. Fighting to keep her tone level. Determined not to let the fear bubble up.

“Yes, we, as in you and I.” He sighed. “ You can't avoid them. What did you think was going to happen? You avoid all contact forever, while Evie and I are part of their lives?” Yes, that had been her preferred plan. It seemed to be a fallacy now.

Nesta straightened her spine “ They are your family, as well as hers. They’ll never be mine though. I don't fit in with them. I've never disillusioned myself to believe I would either.” This seemed to annoy Cassian. His mouth opened, ready to respond.  But,

The sound of clinking plates drew both of their attention away. As their food was placed in front of them. The crepes that Nesta had been craving. Now made her queasy. Any appetite had been chased off. Cassian on the other hand seemed unbothered. As he began digging into his ruben. It didn't take long for him to notice that her plate hadn’t been touched though. He stopped eating and looked up.” You were starving earlier” he noted. “ And now I’m not.” she spat out. Concern danced in his eyes. “Think about it. I know you're worried. But, know. That I’ll be there with you.” He began to reach his hand out to hers. But, pulled it back.

Nesta scoffed a laugh “ You were there last time. And you did nothing. Listen,” She held up her hand.” I know what I am. I know I’m bitchy, and mean. I’m not likable. I know this. I accept this. But, the others don’t seem to know what they are. Morrigan is bitch, a possessive one at that. She’s marked you as her territory too. Amren is so stuck up on her high horse. I doubt she knows how to get down. And Rhysand, can’t look past his own damn faults. To see that he and I are uncomfortably similar. Or maybe he does see it. I don't know.”

Cassian's gaze softened. “For Evie’s sake. I am willing to try. But, it won't be easy for me. I’m telling you I am scared, Cassian. If you insist that I be in their happy little lives. I need you to really be there for me.” Those words silenced him. A flash of something crossed his face, realization maybe? “ Tell me that you will be there for me.” She needed to hear him say it.

Within seconds, he muttered, his tone somber.  “ I’ll be there for you.” Did he finally hear her? Only time would tell.

She nodded, hating that she let such vulnerability show. Her pleading tone made her even sicker to her stomach. She needed to change the subject. “ If you want to pick up the cakes, and food for the party you can. It’s Saturday at 3. Get there around 2:30.”

“Okay, is there anything else I can do? What can I get her?” Cassian didn’t question the change of subject. He simply continued eating. Stealing the occasional glance at her abandoned crepes. He always had been able to read her. Not push her unless it was needed.

“Anything colorful, she likes sounds too. Just don't get anything too loud with built-in batteries.” Cassian wiped his mouth.” Your neighbors complain or something?” 

“No” she responded, “If I have to live with the toys. I prefer something I can tolerate, or dismantle if it becomes a nuisance”

“ What if I kept some things of hers at my place?” The question was innocent enough. Nesta hadn’t thought about Evie spending time there yet. It made sense though. For him to bring it up. He had a right to have her at his place. It would eventually partly be her home too.“ I’m not against it. But, what if you get spotted with her? Or her things get spotted in your place? ” It was a genuine concern. How would he explain his way out of that situation?

“ Fine,” He conceded. “Let's just focus on slowly introducing her. We can discuss her being at my place more at a later time.”

Her plate was still untouched when she asked for her check. The waitress gave her a strange look. But, went back to normal as Cassian handed her his card. Stating that he was footing the bill.” Can we get a box for the crepes?” he asked. The waitress happily obliged. Returning a few minutes later with Cassian’s card, and a styrofoam box.

  Nesta tapped the table. How dare he speak for her. “ Why didn’t you let me pay?” she grumbled. “ I can pay for myself just fine.” He ran a hand over his face. “ I know you can. Just let this one slide, please?” There was no arguing with him when he was like this. 

 “Fine, I’ll text you the details about the party, and where to pick up the cakes. ” With that, she stood and walked out. Box of crepes in tow. Not daring to look back.

The club was busier than normal that night. A distraction, she welcomed.  It relaxed her to dance like this. It was freeing. A far cry from the stuffy proper dances she was taught as a child. The thought of her Mother, and Grandmother rolling in their graves, brought her joy. She hoped they saw her. The two women had controlled her. Molded her into what they wanted her to be. She’d forever resent them for that. 

She spotted many of her regulars in the crowd. One, in particular, sauntered his way over to her stage. He was hard to miss. Even upside down Eris Vanserra stood out. The red of his hair was vibrant in the bright lights. The cheshire grin he sported made her want to scratch it off. Once a month he made an appearance. Usually after a business trip. Early on he set his sights on Nesta. Many of the girls attempted to sway his affections away from her. But, all were snubbed indefinitely.

Slowly she slid down the pole to meet him. The bills littering her stage made her crawl a bit more difficult. But, she managed. “ Eris” she purred. Sliding onto her back legs. Positioning her breasts in front of his face. His eyes grew dark. “ Jade” His voice was that of a snake.“ I’m in a bit of a mood tonight. Are you going to help me cheer up?” He extended a hand.

“ Don’t I always?” Taking his hand he pulled her off. Leading her to a set of leather couches near the back of the room. She didn't miss the envious glances as they passed by. As he sat, he pulled out an envelope. Tossing it onto the small table next to her. “ Count it if you want, it should be $2,000. You know the drill. You're my arm candy for tonight.” Nesta counted it. True to his word it was all there. It always was. But, his attitude left much to be desired. 

Eris froze when Nesta set her knee between his legs. Making sure to ever so gently brush his leg. His gaze turned ravenous. Surely, Eris thought himself the predator. But, he didn't know how wrong he was.

Leaning forward, she braced both hands on the couch's back. Looking down at him she spoke. Her tone like ice. “You know better than to speak to me like that.” she leaned in closer. Lowering herself until her lips grazed the shell of his ear “ Say please, or I walk.” she whispered. Eris shuddered, his body going stiff. All the bravado from earlier now gone. He said nothing until Nesta slid the knee between his legs higher. He sucked in a breath. “ Please” he ground out. Nesta smirked “Please what?”. The man beneath her groaned. “Please be my arm candy tonight.” The men held no power in this club. Balthazar had instilled that ideology in all the women he employed. Made sure that they always knew they were in control.

Pleased with herself, Nesta took a seat on Eris’s lap. Draping an arm around his neck, and leaning in. “ Was that so hard?” The look he gave her, told her it killed him. Good, he needed to know his place.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Every hour or so, Eris would request a lap dance. Eventually, his buddies showed up. As they always did. It was routine for him. He was a creature of habit. As per her usual. she turned down his drunken invitation to go home with him. The only home she wanted to be at was hers. So when the time came. She took her money and left.

Gwyn had texted her earlier that day that she and Evie had moved to Nesta’s place. She expected Gwyn to be asleep on the couch. But, was surprised to find both her and Emerie watching tv. A bowl of popcorn placed between them. She smiled as she walked over to her sisters. “ What’re you watching?’ She asked, picking up the bowl. Earning a pout from Gwyn. Nesta chuckled “ Calm down, I’m just moving it”. Replacing it on her lap. She took the seat between them. “ Devil’s Kitchen. The mean chef is really funny.” Emerie responded mouth full. As she reached for another handful of popcorn. “ More Importantly though,” a whimsical voice spoke from her other side. “ How did today go? You know, with Cassian?” Gwyn always loved getting to the point. Is this why she was still up? Emerie paused the tv. And was now looking at Nesta expectantly. “ Well, we talked. He brought up being a part of Evie’s life more. Providing for her as well.” Nesta took a deep breath. “ He also mentioned introducing Evie to his family, slowly. Which I’m not opposed to. I just-” Nesta stopped. Taking in a breath she rested her head on Gwyn’s shoulder. “ I told him how scared I was, I think he finally got it though, hopefully.” Emerie rubbed small reassuring circles On her arm. “ I’m proud of you. We’re proud of you. I’m assuming Cassian is coming to Evie’s party?” Nesta nodded, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “ Yes, he sounded excited about it.” Emerie gave her a look. “ What?” Nesta asked. “Hear me out. What do you think about inviting, Azriel to Evie’s party?” Emerie asked, still rubbing circles along her arm. “ It would be a show of good faith. I know that it’s going to be hard. But, why not start out with one of them that never had an issue with you? Then you're safe for a while.” Emerie had a point. Azriel never spoke poorly to her. He’d even stood up for her before against Rhysand’s jabs. Doing this would give her time to figure things out. Bring herself to talk to the others. In a better mental state. Maybe even have another ally in all of this mess. Nesta sighed looking at Gwyn, she smiled, then nodded. Emerie and Gwyn watched as she typed a message to Cassian. One that would set in motion a terrible situation, or a positive one.  If you would like to bring Azriel to Evie’s party, you can. Her thumb lingered over the send button for a moment before finally descending. It was done, and Nesta was terrified.

Taglist

@sv0430 @melphss @champanheandluxxury @my-fan-side @wolfnesta

#nessian fic #acotar #acosf #nesta x cassian #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #pro nesta

[garlichoisan]

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐡 [6]

[an ATEEZ social media au]

🍓 Characters/Pairing: San x reader, Wooyoung x reader + more in the future

🍩 Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive

🍰 AU info: social media au, university!au, named reader

💌 Word Count: 1297

⚠️ Warnings: slightly nsfw(-ish?)/suggestive

💟 if you wanna be added to the taglist, please just send an ask!

↫ previous | masterlist | next ↬

Chaewon was staring disbelievingly at her phone screen for the past 10 minutes. She couldn’t think of a proper way to answer her friend’s provocative messages; she wasn’t used to exchanging such messages with Mingi. They were best friends, and their flirting have never went that far before; besides, it has always been in a joking manner. And Mingi’s messages just now seemed nothing like a joke. Chaewon instantly regretted making fun of Mingi’s love life; she truly didn’t expect him to react that way, snap and make things so awkward. Suddenly their chat was filled with unexpected tension. She was wondering if Mingi was also flustered because of the texts he sent, or it was only her feeling that way. After all, he seemed so confident and convincing – maybe he was the better player in that game. But Chaewon didn’t want to play any games with her best friend – at least not games that included him controlling her heart. She was in fact afraid of what Mingi could do to her, if he really wanted to.

Meanwhile Mingi himself was also freaking out in his own way, rereading the messages he had just sent. It wasn’t his style at all, but his ego was so damaged because of Chaewon’s comments, that he didn’t think twice before typing some of his wildest thoughts. He could only thank his mind for not letting the spicier ones out and preferring to stay on the tame side; even if he considered what he wrote already bad enough. Now he was left dealing with the aftermath and it was so difficult for him to figure out what to do that when all he wanted was to turn back time and control his reactions better to avoid that situation; but unfortunately, he had to settle for a more possible solution.

Suddenly San stormed into the room, not even looking at Mingi. He was looking for something, lifting the bed covers, and sighed in annoyance when he didn't have much luck in finding the unknown object.

"Have you seen my phone charger?” San asked, continuing making a mess of Mingi’s already messy room. “I may have left it here last time when I came to play video games with you.”

"It's on the desk. Here," he handed the charger over to San who sighed again, but this time in relief.

"Thank you, Mangi," San turned his back as he was going to leave the room, but suddenly he turned around. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asked with concern clear in his voice, trying to analyze his friend's face. "You look kind of down."

"It's nothing," he tried to deny, but San looked at him insistently and Mingi gave up trying to pretend that there was no reason for his bad mood. "It's a long story..." this time he offered an excuse to the other boy, but that was not accepted either.

"I'm gonna grab two beers and come back here. Be prepared to spill the beans, my friend," San warned and Mingi nodded in defeat.

When San came back to the room, he passed Mingi a cold beer, hearing the other boy quietly thanking him.

"I'm listening," San reminded his friend as he took a sip from his beer.

The friendship between Mingi, San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong was a very honest and comforting one. They always shared with each other the things that bothered them in their daily lives and never kept any secrets. Whether their problems were insignificant or more serious, they knew they would feel better after talking about it. Sometimes the others didn’t take it seriously and laughed at the person sharing their situation, but that only happened when they were discussing a minor problem that couldn't really hurt anyone’s feelings. Most of the time the guys dramatized and acted hurt to attract attention and keep the mood light.

"It's not a big deal, really, but if you insist to know…" Mingi warned for the last time before taking a sip from his bottle and starting to talk about what bothered him. "Do you think it's okay for a guy our age to have never dated anyone before? Like, what do girls or people in general think about it?" he asked his question and for a second San was taken aback; he most definitely didn't expect that type of question. He especially didn't think that Mingi was capable of discussing that problem of his, since he always pretended to have a lot of dating experience when he was with his friends, even though all of them were aware he was lying.

"I think I know who the guy you're talking about is. The one who’s pretending to know all about relationships without ever having been in one," San laughed.

Mingi rolled his eyes with annoyance, thinking San was not taking the

situation seriously.

"Okay, on a more serious note... I had no idea it actually bothered you. To be honest, I find it kind of cute when it’s a girl, even though it’s difficult to find girls like that. You know, to be someone's first love is a very refreshing feeling, it makes you feel important enough to change someone's entire world. But for a guy I do find it a little weird," San confessed, but then he received a slap on his shoulder. "No, for real. As a guy, you’re expected to have some experience. Sorry, I have no filter, I guess. This is just another double standard of our twisted society, Mangi. Better get used to it.”

"But how am I supposed to date anyone when people don't find me attractive since I've never dated?" Mingi asked confusedly.

San laughed and patted his friend's shoulder. He took a sip from his beer again, looking at him with amusement.

"No, things don't work that way, Mangi."

"And how do they work?"

"I think it's different for everyone. You just have to find your own method and not rush things. You're a nice guy who’s also good looking, so the problem isn't in you. I’m sure there are plenty of girls out there who are not gonna mind you being inexperienced in relationships,” San said reassuringly, chugging the remaining beer in the can in one take. “My question is how and why you started thinking about it and feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden. You're usually so bright, energetic and loud, and now you're sitting alone in your room, thinking that you're not good enough?" San noted, not hiding his confusion.

"Maybe I’m not as strong as I’d like to be,” Mingi tried to keep his voice stable, but he felt it crack and in the next moment tears rolled down his face. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

It truly pained San to see his best friend like that. That was not Mingi at all, and for a moment he panicked, wondering what to do. But then he decided to act logically - if the person in front of him didn't act like Mingi, he had to respond in another type of way. He had to comfort him the way he would comfort anyone else and stop playfully making fun of him, because the situation was no longer funny.

So without thinking too much, San embraced Mingi in his arms, feeling his unsteady breathing and his heart nervously beating against his chest. He gently brushed his friend’s hair with his fingers, feeling its soft texture. In that moment, they both felt comfortable, as if they had just teleported into another place: a place of warmth where life was easy and problems didn't exist. They could stay like that for as long as they wanted, just sinking in the comfortable silence together. And that's exactly what they did.

╔═══════════ SUMMARY ═══════════╗

San was often told that he was everything a girl wanted to date: handsome, funny and smart. That was until they got to know him better. Then he was told he was too much, too overwhelming, had too many emotions and was too chaotic. Thus his experience with dating was not as good as one would have thought. The problem: he has the biggest crush on a girl he met whilst studying abroad. But every time he messages his crush, he seems to mess things up further and further. With the help of his hyperactive friends he tries to win Ara's heart but before that, he has to convince her he doesn't actually hate her.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

💟 taglist:

@violets-are-vladi @chocochannel @ateezcbk

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez smau #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez fluff #ateez angst #san fluff #wooyoung fluff #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #kpop social media au #kpop smau #kpop fluff #woosan #woosan x reader #san #wooyoung #hongjoong #seonghwa #mingi #series: crush rush

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 4 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index Note: Figured out what was wrong with the chapter links. Unfortunately, I have to update them manually. Still, the masterpost should have up to date links. Or at least not dead links.

[Varl] has added [ Kotallo] to the group

Aloy: Thank you, Varl. Kotallo? How are you doing with the Focus?

Kotallo: [This message has violated the terms of service for this forum, and has been removed. Punitive measures have been applied.]

Kotallo: ^&*&*!!

Aloy: ...Kotallo? Uh, can you read?

Kotallo: )*@!#&!!

Aloy: Varl?

Varl: He's swearing a lot. I'm not sure what he's trying to do.

Kotallo: &&&^$%^&*!

Varl: More swearing. I'm worried he's going to throw the Focus across the room. He's not doing this on porpoise.

Aloy: GAIA? Is there something wrong with his Focus?

ADMIN [GAIA]: Fascinating. He somehow managed to activate the anti-spam filter. Everything he says is being translated into random symbols and punctuation.

Kotallo: ??!^*&@@@()()!

Varl: Uh, he's asking how that happened.

ADMIN [GAIA]: It seems that one of the programmers greatly increased the filter's sensitivity as part of a prank on a coworker. I suspect the fact that Kotallo's first communication was excessively long and mentioned duty and honor multiple times had it flagged as military propaganda.

Kotallo: **@#$%(%#!*

ADMIN [GAIA]: Please, try now.

Kotallo: Can you understand me?

Aloy: Yes.

Varl: Yes.

Zo: Yes.

Aloy: Why didn't Erend answer?

Varl: Laughing too hard.

Kotallo: How do you make the words appear without speaking?

Kotallo: Wait, allow me to try something.

Kotallo: First trial.

Kotallo: Second trial.

Kotallo: Third trial.

Varl: That one worked.

Kotallo: Excellent. To answer your question Aloy, yes I can read. Marshall Fashav taught anyone willing to learn Carja glyphs. This language is similar enough to communicate.

Aloy: It was the language of the ancients before the Carja started teaching it to people.

Kotallo: Very well. I have my orders, and will begin mastering this new technology without delay. Where shall I start?

ADMIN [GAIA]: I have a basic primer that I believe you will find illuminating. From there, I will be happy to help you find information on any subject you wish.

Erend: START WITH THE DEATH MACHINES.

ADMIN [GAIA]: That is part of the basic primer, Erend.

Erend: OH. I SKIMMED THAT PART.

ADMIN [GAIA]: As you well know, I am missing quite a large amount of social and political data, in addition to the more immediately relevant information about how to fix the biosphere or build machines that you would find useful.

Erend: OKAY?

ADMIN [GAIA]: However, I believe on most forums, it would be considered my prerogative to ban you entirely from the chat at this point. The only reason I will not is because of our limited manpower.

Erend: WAS THAT A THREAT?

ADMIN [GAIA]: Your purpose here is to learn. I thought it best to teach you of common courtesy and politeness.

Zo: From my research, I believe the ancients called that "a burn." Possibly a "sick burn." I am unclear on the difference.

Kotallo: It seems this strange Vision has a sense of humor.

Erend: NO SHE DOESN'T.

Kotallo: She is also clearly more observant than some members of this team.

Erend: OKAY, WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO INVITE THE TENAKTH?

Aloy: Mine.

Erend: RIGHT, GOOD IDEA, NO COMPLAINTS HERE, HAPPY TO HAVE HIM ON THE TEAM.

Chapter 4 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

#horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #horizon #kotallo #erend vanguardsman #aloy #zo #varl

[rosevilleain]

For the most part, I'd like to keep all my spaces fun and generally light hearted, save for the occasional rant (because, well... This is DBD 😅), but I want to talk about something important right now. If you've been playing this game for long enough, you'll know that there are multiple heated debates amongst the community that will cool off for a while, only to make a resurgence again at some point. Right now, I'd like to address the one that I'm seeing a lot of at the moment.

Let's talk about filters... But, really, let's talk about accessibility in gaming. Primarily in Dead by Daylight.

Before getting into it all, a couple of quick things to note: a. This is a long post, and b. a lot of it is stuff I said elsewhere (namely Instagram). I also broke this up into a couple of sections to (hopefully) make it more easily digestible than a wall of text.

About Those Filters...

Now, I have some tweets of my own to post. For context, Hens went on from that first tweet to discuss his findings a bit, and asked if people wanted him to make a video addressing the subject. After most people said they wanted to see a video, he agreed.

Now, here is my quote tweet and short thread.

I want what I said in that first tweet to sink in. This game first launched in 2016. The colorblind filters available in the game weren't added until 2021.

It took Behavior five (5) years to implement a feature that would allow people with colorblindness to play as anyone else could. This was a feature that should have been available all along, yet there was a need to ask for this to be added. And it still took them half a decade to do it.

If that wasn't terrible enough, there are many colorblind people in the community for whom the available filters do not work. At least not as well as they should. Which means that there are many players using third party filters to simply be able to see the game.

The Usual, Disappointing Response...

But there are some players that use them to have an unfair advantage. So they should be banned... According to far too many people. And if you are one of them, I ask you to consider this:

If you are more concerned about the people who don't need it, you are ignoring the people who do. If you are more concerned about the people that don't need it, respectfully, please take a step back and think about why that is.

Because we see these things said constantly, about features we use just to be able to play like anyone else can do. When disabled people see and hear the comments about how these features should be banned, or how "unfair" they are, what we hear is, "Yeah, but I want to win, so…"

No matter how many times we explain why it wouldn't be good if these things got banned or changed, it doesn't seem to matter. No matter how many more people that use these things need it than don't, it never matters.

My Personal Struggles...

In the second tweet of my thread, I said, "BHVR shouldn't ban their use. They should do better by the disabled people that need better options. This is a general statement, not exclusive to colorblindness."

When I said that, I had a very specific thing in mind, although I'm sure there are other examples of which I'm not even aware.

I'm not colorblind, though I have other disabilities that affect how I experience video games. Though I'm neither deaf, nor hard of hearing, I do have an issue perceiving sounds. Particularly in video games.

For DBD, when I play killer, I can't always find survivors by listening for them because I often have trouble figuring out the right direction that it's coming from. I frequently run into situations where the sound seems to be coming from one direction, but then it sounds like it's actually the opposite, even when it isn't possible that they could have run that way because I would have seen them.

When I play survivor, I frequently can't tell how close the killer is when going by the terror radius because it often sounds a bit further away than it really is. Before I realized that it was a "me" issue, I used to get so pissed because I'd get grabbed off of generators even though it sounded to me like I had a little bit more time before I had to run.

In regards to that, I was once discussing how I wish they hadn't changed Spine Chill back to the way it was because watching the red dial fill and regress helped me far better than the new heartbeat does. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to properly gauge the distance. I should mention that I have several learning disabilities, as well, which definitely contributes to this. And I'm frustrated because it seems so straight forward, and I can understand it in DBD Mobile, but not core for some reason.

During that discussion, while I was explaining all of this, I had someone outright say to me, "They can't put in too many accessibility options because then people who don't need them will cheat with them."

And several people chimed in with, "Yeah, but it also tipped off survivors to stealth killers."

Um... I main Ghost Face. Yet, my point still stands. And now the heartbeat is the only option available, so I'm still struggling a bit.

People with disabilities shouldn't have to settle for "it's better than nothing," but we do. Time and time again.

In Closing...

That, "I know you need it, but what about the people who don't?" argument is a truly sad and messed up way of thinking. And half of the problem is the fact that there are many people who don't even realize that. The person who said that to me clearly didn't understand that, perhaps, that isn't something you should say to someone explaining why they need it. They weren't trying to be an asshole. They thought they were just having a conversation. Obviously there are those who just don't care, but I do believe that there are more people that just don't realize what it is they're really saying when we see this stuff. Nor why it's so fucked up.

I can personally tell you that it's exhausting to have to defend things, over and over, that make me able to enjoy this hobby that I've been doing for 30+ years. Making room for everyone to be able to play is more important than winning.

If you read this far, thank you.

#dead by daylight #dbd #accessibility #accessibility in gaming #accessible gaming #disabilties #colorblind #color blindness #invisible disability #bhvr #behavior interactive

[finiansmile]

First Post

12/9/2023

Hi, I'm Finian, and this is my first blogpost! I'm really into like every single artform, and my main passion is gamedev! I learned it in highschool, I'm working on it in college, and I hope to make it a career someday.

I'm very critical on myself, and I am very embarrassed to share any art I make, but I've wanted to make a blog for a little while. I think personal writing is fun. I recently received some advice that making a blog might strengthen my portfolio, so I was like "what the heck" and now here I am.

With that out of the way, this post will be about what I consider my first finished game. I did some stuff in highschool, but that was all in a website called code.org. I worked in Unity in my final year, but I served the role of mentor more than developer.

This game was created for my final project in my ENC1143 class, and shall be called my Multimodal Artifact. The assignment was to share what we'd learned over the year in any form of medium we wished, so I made a game. I've only previously done 2D games and I consider myself acceptable at pixel art, so I made a simple 2D platformer. All of my artwork was done in Aseprite and all code was written in Unity, with Visual Studio.

My intentions going into the game were mainly to let the player interact with the sign pictured above, which is something I've never done before. I also wanted the text on the sign to have a scrollbar. I started with an unanimated player sprite, and I made an incredibly simple ground texture, which I stretched to represent a wall. I coded the player's movement and interaction with the terrain. Once I was satisfied with the player's movement, I created some simple animations for idling, running, and jumping.

I then created a tileset of which I am extremely proud, as I've been struggling with grassy and leafy terrain for years. This is the second tileset I've ever made, and the first to perfectly link with itself.

Once I had my tiles in order, I replaced my gaudy primitive, and created the first area of the game as seen in the first image, albeit with significantly less foliage. I created enough level to comfortably house five signs; about half of the game. Finally I began work on the sign itself. The sign was probably the most important part of the game, as its writing is what I was mainly being graded on. There are nine signs in the game, each containing small pieces of the whole final assignment. I created a sprite for the sign in about 20 minutes, and tackled the text with a scroll view. I watched a very helpful video on how it worked, added my TextMeshPro font asset, and made a sign visual behind it all.

My sign was done, from a visual standpoint. I could finally tackle the code, which I did within two scripts. The first script, "Interactable" would be attached to the sign sprite via a child. The script was actually pretty simple, using OnTriggerEnter and OnTriggerExit in tandem with a circle collider 2D to detect if the player was near enough, and an if statement featuring the UnityEvent Invoke in its body. Invoke calls a function from another script, established in the inspector. In this case, I attached a script to the Canvas which disabled and enabled the sign GameObjects.

I also added to the sign sprite a key icon, again of my own making, to make sure the player definitely knows what to press. It has an animation which activates when the player walks near the sign.

Both the coding and the visuals for the sign are finally finished! My final steps for this game were: 1) finish designing the level 2) add some scenery 3) if I had time, a pause screen and maybe even a start screen

This was a single-level game, and since it was an english assignment that needs to be graded, I figured it ought to be very linear and very non-punishing. There are no enemies and no dying, so the difficulty had to come from platforming. The player can jump exactly three tiles high and seven tiles far. The game features one six tile wide jump and no necessary three tile high jumps. The first area, already completed features very easy one to three tile wide gaps.

The area has the player go from the left of the level to the right, and eventually upwards and back to the left. Within the first zone, it is possible to fall After every new challenge there will be a sign as the player's reward: after the first jump, , two-tile wide jump, series of one-tile wide jumps (pictured above), series of two-tile vertical jumps, and finally after the first four-tile wide jump. There are some punishing jumps in the upper layer of this zone, which cause the player to lose some progress if missed.

Before making any level past the first sign, I added a second tileset. I took my preciously mentioned first ever tileset, which was a greyish castle brick, and changed it to match my current palette. It's not perfect, but any imperfections are so slight nobody would notice unless they were specifically seeking them out. I added this tileset because I felt continuous jungle would start to get bland, and because I really wanted to get some use out of it. I think it fits in really well.

The second area of my game is a platforming section based off of the loss comic, a suggestion provided to my by my wonderful girlfriend. I think it's a lot of fun to involve others in the gamemaking process, and I think it's fun to work with a specific challenge in mind. I thought of something really fun to do with that idea almost instantly, and got to work.

For those who are unaware, the loss comic is a meme from 2002, which features this character format: I II II I_

I tried loosely to stay within that format, I don't think it tracks very well, but the intention and setup is there.

I wanted my third and final segment to be the most challenging, and I wanted it to be inside of the castle/temple setting, in hopes of making the play subconsciously go "oh, this area is different." Each area of the game has its subtle distinctions, but the distinction here is the least subtle.

The final area features a great deal of wide and high jumps, as well as the first and only head-hitter in the game. In the final set of jumps it is possible to fall back down to the start of the section, and the very last jump isn't very difficult. I think it sucks when you think you're almost done with everything in a game, and you mess up at the very end and have to start all over. I didn't want the player to feel that way, hence the easier last jump.

The level was done! My signs (the part I get graded on) were done! I could have some fun with the rest of the game, not that I didn't have fun with the entire previous process, this final bit was just leisure. I love programming.

I started with controls. I put the controls of the game as well as some arrows to point you the right way on rocks, which would not only fit well in the game's environment, but also served well to fill up empty-feeling areas.

After the rocks, I created some bushes. I considered making hanging vines, but I forgot about it somewhere in the creative process. There's obviously not as many of them as the rocks, but trust me when I say these suckers get some crazy mileage. They're everywhere, rotated for the walls and ceiling, flipped, darkened to appear more in the background, placed somewhat behind rocks. These four bushes were super important to the decoration of this game.

After the bushes, I adjusted the hue, saturation, and light of the tilesets to make them appear as background elements. I created the background of the game as a repeating tile. I am not confident in my ability to create a full artpiece, rather than smaller assets, and my wonderful girlfriend added some pixels which I feel made it look significantly better than my rendition. I hue shifted it, and it works excellently as the game's background.

My initial rendition (black was empty) and the final rendition

The final thing to do was to add a pause menu, which is also something I had extremely limited experience with, but found to be super easy. The code is just about the same as making the signs appear and disappear.

The game was not without its bugs, however. There were two that I wanted to fix: 1) sometimes while walking, the player would randomly get snagged and stop. I believed this to be an issue with the ground's collision 2) sometimes upon landing, the player would fly straight through the floor! I also believed this to be an issue with the ground's collision

I had the ground's collider set to a Tilemap Collider 2D, which is a collider designed specifically for tiles. The way a tilemap collider works is that it assigns a square shaped colllider to every individual tile, and would combine all of those collider together in order to save space if it were more efficient on the system. In my game's case it was not more efficient to combine them. However, combining them is exactly what would fix the first issue, the player snagging on the ground. I added a Composite Collider 2D to the tilemap, and viola! No more snagging. The player would still fall through the ground on occasion, but it happened to me so rarely I figured it would be a nonissue. I added a line of code that would set the player's position to the initial spawn if they went too far beneath the map, as well as the reset button in the pause menu which would do the same.

After these fixes I had my incredibly generous roommate playtest for me. He probably played for about thirty minutes, and he relentlessly fell through the map. It was amazing to me how often he just perfectly fell through the ground. Clearly, this was a bigger issue than I anticipated. Thank goodness for playtesters!

After some research, I realized the composite collider actually created an outline of the tiles, rather than completely filling them with collision. The player would fall through the ground because while falling, their velocity would continually increase. Since the collision of the ground was so slim, the player's high velocity would sometimes cause their collider to be on one side of the ground on one frame, and the other side of the ground on the next, not allowing for any collision to happen. The slim outline of the composite collider was not cutting it. There is a setting on the component labeled "Use Delaunay Mesh" which, when clicked, converts the collider from an outline to a full mesh.

The orange lines represent the collider

A Delaunay Mesh is a mesh based on Delaunay Triangulation, which is a complicated math term which can be simplified to mean the mesh has the least amount of big system-taxing triangles possible.

My roommate once again playtested for me, this time with no bugs at all. His thirty minute experience turned into a three minute experience. Magical!

There's more I would have liked to do, but my time ran out and I needed to turn the assignment in. I think I would have liked to make a starting screen, and maybe some hanging vines. If I had as much time as I pleased, I would've added walljumping and maybe some destructible decorations to make the player feel more involved.

I think the game was a success. This is my first game I can say I've actually completed, and I feel proud of how far I've come. If I were to do this again, I'd probably study the games "Getting Over It" and "Jump King," as in hindsight these games were fundamentally very similar.

The end! Thank you for reading my silly blogpost! This took way longer than I thought.

[docpiplup]

8th part of the bookscans of Al Andalus. Historical Figures, here's the previous part

discovered by others. In this case his rival was Mu'min ibn Said, who did not hesitate to say that the thunders of the “heavenly vault” created by Abbas ben Firnas were no more than his own farts.

The anaphoric clock construction technique is also due to this inventor , a variant of the Greek clopsydra. It must be taken into account that for the measurement of time was very important to Muslims because they indicated the hours of prayers.

However, his most brilliant stroke, according to Levy Provençal, was the attempt to wanting to fly, becoming the most remote precursor of aviation, if not We take into account the myth of Icarus, that Greek who with wings of wax He got too close to the sun and it melted them. ;It could be considered the first aviator? Yes, it is possible, but he was about to pay for it with his life. He made a cover for the entire body, to which he sewed a multitude of feathers of silk and to which he added two movable wings, proportionate to his height and Dressed in this way, he jumped into the void from some rocks in Rusafa. The Expectation of this "flight" is easy to imagine. Before the astonished eyes of the peasants, the bird-man took flight, glided for a few moments... and fell with a crash, a little beyond his starting point. Fortunately, he did not suffer a major physical disaster, although this attempt failure to emulate the birds caused great joy to his usual enemy, Mu'min ibn Said, who did not shy away from saying ironically: "He wanted to surpass the griffin in his flight and he only had on his body the feathers of an old vulture," according to Eslava Galán in one of his works. Really, it seems like he just got hurt

the rear, since he did not realize that birds, when landing, use the tail, and he had not made a tail! His audacity served to ensure that this attempted flight was collected in the Arabic literary texts and which were later transmitted to the Castilian romances.

Yahya ben Hakam al-Bakri: the misery poet

One of the most influential figures at the court of Abd al-Rahman II was Yahya ben Hakam al-Bakri, an Arab from Jaén, who as a young man had called al-Gazal, “the gazelle", for its beauty and its slender body and agile. It was also a unique character, although in another area completely different from that of Ben Firmas.

Al-Gazal, when Abd al-Rahman came to the throne, was already over fifty years old, and he would die almost a hundred years old under the reign of this emir's successor. It was a miracle that he lived so long, since his profession could be considered high risk in al-Andalus: it was neither more nor less, the most sarcastic and hurtful poet of the moment, feared and hated in equal parts. No one was safe from his hurtful verses, as hurtful as they were. His words, direct and harsh, without a hint of complacency or literary artifice. Possibly only the emir himself, who admired his capacity for witty responses, although they were often rude and left the sufferer unarmed

Even the alfaquíes themselves were the target of their cruelest satires, in especially, the chief of them all, Yahya ben Yahya, endowed with great power, did not only among their religious coreligionists, but also in other sectors such as was the choice of the cadi and the implacable control he exercised over these magistrates. Al-Gazal, whose simple language reached everyone, achieved great popularity with this satire dedicated to religious leaders: "Why don't you find more than rich alfaquíes? I would like to know how they have become rich." Yahya ben Yahya was furious, but no matter how much he intrigued of the emir for this poet to be punished, he achieved nothing.

It must be considered that al-Gazal was also an astrologer and that his solid position in the court was because he had predicted and, also in verse, the fall and execution of the emir's favorite eunuch, Nasr, after participating in a plot to eliminate to Abd al-Rahman II.

His biting tongue and critical ability were only matched by his greed. It is known that the emir paid lavishly the entire clique of wise men and women artistsb around him, but for al-Gazal nothing seemed enough. In the year 840, together with another ambassador, was commissioned to go to Constantinople and take the emir's response to Emperor Theophilus. His arrival was greatly celebrated in the city that, for a few weeks, was attentive to those travelers who came from so far away. His greed was such that he even asked the Empress Theodora to give him jewels for his daughters, when before undertaking the trip had managed to get the emir to grant an exclusive pension for the girls! We assume that this request

Imust have surprised the empress quite a bit. That an ambassador of the prosperous al-Andalus, whose prince was known for his generosity, making such a demand would cause a more than dubious impression on the noble lady about that begging poet and ambassador!

Abd al-Chabbar and Sulayman ben Martin: the rebels of Merida

The cities of the Marches, generally far from Córdoba, were very prone to any type of rebellion against central power. And Mérida, capital of the Lower March, with a territory that bordered Galicia, lands belonging to the enemy with whom frequent relations were maintained, not was an exception when it came to rebelling. Mérida was one of the few cities which had offered very tenacious resistance in the early days of the Arab invasion, which they only managed to conquer after a long siege.

Its population was made up of many muladíes, or Christian converts to the Islam, and a good number of Mozarabs, and both had a character quite rebellious. On the other hand, it seems that the Asturian king, Alfonso II, and even Louis the Pious, the French monarch, encouraged any rebellious movement, because everything was worth to weaken the Umayyad power.

In the year 828 the inhabitants of Mérida, grouped under the command of two insurgents, the Berber Abd al-Chabbar and the muladi Sulayman Ben Martín, They broke all the ties they maintained with the central power and murdered the legal governor of the city. They became masters of the situation, but after a year Abd al-Rahman II, at the head of a column of repression, laid siege to the city without being able to surrender it. Then we proceeded as usual in those times: all the crops were burned and the land was devastated in the surrounding areas so that the rioters could not get supplies, but the emir,'s troops had to withdraw without any success. That couldn't stay like this and in 830 a new siege was carried out.

Whether because the situation was compromised, or because they had not yet recovered from the previous site, the inhabitants of Mérida had to hand over hostages and accept a governor loyal to Córdoba, Harith ben Bazi. But this mission can be said to have only been a flower of a day, since in the years following, Abd al-Rahman II had to besiege the square on numerous occasions until they managed to pacify the Lower March and make Mérida return to the Umayyad obedience. It is believed that this was achieved around the year 834. In any case, to ensure the position of the loyal troops that remained in the rebellious city, in 835 a fortified redoubt was built, surrounded by a wall that was twelve cubits wide.

The two rebel leaders had to flee. It was not possible to stay in Mérida without falling into the hands of successive loyal governors who would have ended with them. At first both sought refuge in Badajoz, and later

and always fleeing, in some castles in lower Guadiana. Eventually, they ended up separate and look for life each on their own. The muladí Sulayman ben Martín headed north and settled in the castle of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, near Trujillo, but was defeated and killed by Umayyad troops in the year 834. And there his story ended, while that of his fellow Berber citizen was going to be, to say the least, much more picturesque. The Berber Abd al-Chabbar decided to stay in the Guadiana valley, but year after year, the Córdoba troops harassed him, so he had to retreat towards the south with his supporters, all Berbers too, accompanied by their families. He was luckier than his companion and defeated the inhabitants of Beja, who came out to face him. But that was not life, and in the end he settled down next to the Atlantic, district of Ocsonoba, in the castle of Monte Sacro, approximately near the present-day Portuguese city of Faro. But he didn't find the longed-for tranquility there either. In the year 838 the Umayyad army removed him from this position and decided to go to Galicia. He wrote to Alfonso II, the Asturian king, requesting his understanding and support and the monarch of Oviedo agreed to settle in those lands. He sent him to his court and gave him a fief castle on the Galician border, possibly located between Porto and Lamego. It's possible to suppose that Alfonso's generosity had some counterpart and Abd al-Chabbar, on numerous occasions, carried out raids against the Muslims, proving very useful to the Christian king in those border lands.

Time passed and everything seemed to be fine between the Berber and Alfonso, but feeling himself getting older, the rebel from Mérida became remorseful. He was acting in favor of Christians, against their origin and their religion... perhaps he didn't have much time to live and it was better to make amends while he still had time. In the greatest of secrets he sent a letter to the emir Abd al-Rahman II, asking for forgiveness for having behaved as he did, and the emir was quick to comply with her wishes. He was forgiven, but while he held dealings with Córdoba, Alfonso II found out about all these movements of his former ally and sent him urgently to Oviedo. Abd al-Chabbar did not attend the appointment, claiming that he was ill. The Asturian monarch, convinced that "the goat always shoots into the mountains", did not doubt that his vassal had returned to the Umayyad cause and decided to fight him in his own fiefdom. The sick, who was not such, made a sortie on the enemy camp, and despite who was, like all Arabs, an accomplished horseman, the horse threw him. Fell wounded, he was taken prisoner and died in the year 840, in the month of May. Abd al-Chabbar's entire family, by order of Alfonso II, was transferred to Galicia. This Berber had a sister, whose beauty was known and admired by everyone who saw her and that it would help her marry a Galician nobleman, after, of course, she converted to Christianity. This marriage had a son, who according to the Arab historian Ibn Hayyan, would later become a bishop of Santiago de Compostela.

Of course, "the ways of the Lord are infinite"!

#al andalus. historical figures #al andalus. personajes históricos #bookblr #historyblr #al andalus #al andalus history #spanish history #book scans #emirate of cordoba #abbás ibn firnás #yahya ibn hakam al-bakri #abd al-chabbar #sulayman ibn martin