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#but she then replied to my letter and sent me a pic with it that i still have in my room

himbocoups · 2 years

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୨ nu / she/her/hers / 20+ / struggling grad student ୧

"oh my love, warmly call out for me when I'm by your side / I'll only fill you with love // above that endless sky / this night of stars pouring down / is looking at you sleeping next to me"

━ seventeen "same dream, same mind, same night"

୨ general / masterlist under the cut / inbox ୧

This is an 18+ writing blog. I routinely check my followers and block followers. If you have been blocked, then it means you haven't read my general post.

extras

networks: svthub

wondernus / himbonanami / nu-reads / nu-replies

formerly lipglossjun

most recent fic: the NDA

header: john constable - a cloud study, sunset (1821)

HIMBOCOUPS'S MASTERLIST / 18+ ━━━━━━♡꘎

━ WRITTEN:

yuck! | lsm | [part one] [part two]

⤷ how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind?

impressions | csc ♡

⤷ as impressionable as the scent he wears, he is the standout in a crowd of many. and you can't help but to inhale him deeply before the night fades away.

red horn | yjh

⤷ devils are contract workers - simply offer them a payment that they can never refuse, and your problems would be taken care of. the only thing is, what could a mere human possibly offer to a devil?

crawl | yjh

⤷ if there is anything about the Devil, it’s that he always keeps his promises. the problem is, he’s mad that you seemed to have forgotten his promise. crawling for the Devil is the least of your problems.

multitasking | kmg

⤷ multitasking only saves time when it's done right

between glitz and glamour | ljh ♡

⤷ love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

epistolary yearning | lsm

⤷ a series of letters, speckled with notes of budding romance and longing, exchanged between a newly married couple separated by seas and the ongoing war the emperor sent his commander to end.

the NDA | hjs

⤷ the budding romance between two movie stars and a promise backed by a stack of legal contractual papers. how much would you allow yourself to go through in order to be his?

━ NIGHT VERSIONS:

N/A

━ SOCIAL MEDIA AU:

take a pic | ksy

━ KEY:

fics are ordered from oldest to newest in every section

first fic posted = yuck!

personal favorites = ♡

updated: march 11, 2024

#lipglossjun masterlist #himbocoups #✏️ ━ himbocoups #💤 ━ pillow talk

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scotianostra · 10 months

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On July 4th 1796 Burns took up residence at the Brow Inn near Ruthwell, Dumfries and Galloway.

The bard was ill and his stay at the Brow Inn was to take in the therapeutic waters of the Brow Well and bathe chest-deep into the cold waters in the nearby Solway Firth. The doctors nowadays may have diagnosed that he was suffering from rheumatic fever Burns himself called his ailment 'flying gout'. God knows what that must have felt like, I suffer from gout, the rheumatoid arthritis ailment, and know how painful it can be. I can keep it in check with medication most of the time, but back then I can only guess they thought bathing in the cold waters would abate the pain!.

As well as the waters his doctor also prescribed horse riding and the drinking of port, nowadays I understand that port is a cause of gout, so glad I wasn't alive back then. The inn did not serve port wine but it is thought he sought out another inn at nearby Clarencefield. During this stay, on 5th July, Maria Riddell sent her carriage to collect him so that he could dine with her at Lochmaben. She recorded that he had the “stamp of death” on his face and was “touching the brink of eternity” and his greeting to her was “Well madam, have you any commands for the other world”.

At first the treatment seemed to agree with him and he was reinvigorated, but the positive effects did not last. He stayed alone at Brow. His wife Jane Armour was in the advanced stages of pregnancy and did not accompany him. He wrote her a letter sounding very positive about his treatment, but this was likely just an attempt to stop her from worrying. Other letters to his friends during this time make it clear that the poet knew his health was deteriorating.

On another occasion during his stay at Brow, Burns visited Ruthwell Manse to take tea with the minister. When the minister's daughter offered to draw the curtain so that the sun did not shine in his eyes Burns replied, 'Let the sun shine in upon us, my dear young lady, he has not long to shine upon me'.

The scene was poignantly recreated in a painting by Duncan McKellar, now on display at the Dick Institute in Kilmarnock.

When the spring tides passed and left the sea too far from Brow Well to be able to swim in the seawater, Burns returned to Dumfries. He died on 21 July.

The Southern Scottish Counties Burns Association holds an annual ceremony at Brow Well to commemorate the anniversary of Burns' death.

Pics are the aforementioned pic at Ruthwell Manse, Brow Well circa 1800, I would assume it was much the same during Burns' visit, and the well as it is now, after a restoration recently.

#scotland #scottish #poet #national bard #robert burns #well #spring water #history

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dannineels4u · 4 months

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Sexy thought… My GF found my Tmblr & saw my xdressed pics & saw my messages to hung men. She contacted me under an alias saying she was a Domme & wanted to watch me please men in person. I replied that while I would absolutely love that, I’m sorry but I can’t I’m in a relationship & I love her & this is just my fantasy world that she has no idea about… I hope you understand that I really want to, but I really can’t? She responds that she says that my gf not only would want me to do this, but she wants me to do it… I reply, how do you know? She messages me back, because I am your gf silly, now go suck a huge cock for me slut! Me: OMG that’s shockingly hot, but there’s no way because my girl is so vanilla. Her: Okay I’ll prove it, next time you see me I’ll be wearing a necklace with a tiny key on it… I won’t mention this conversation, but you will certainly know for sure & then we can begin having real fun, okay? Me: Yes Goddess… Her: Good gurl!

I was nervous before our next date night dinner meet, but telling myself that some chick was just fucking with my mind online, but when I met my girl at the restaurant she turned to say hi & OMFG she was wearing the keyed necklace & my face must’ve looked shocked as she leaned in & gave me a kiss & handed me an envelope, saying it’s ok sweetie, your instructions are in the envelope, so follow them & I’ll meet up with you a little later as she walked away.

So I sat down at the bar & ordered a stiff drink as I nervously opened my letter.

Dear Sissy, I’m glad you finally know that I know your secret desires & while I was shocked to have found out that you dress in my sexy clothes & flirt with hung horny men online, I think this could actually work out for both of us.

So I got us a room upstairs in this hotel, room #833. So go up there now & follow all the directions on the second letter I left for you on the bed;)

Love, Your Dominatrix!

My mind raced thinking of all the slutty messages I’d sent to all those men online… Everything was so dirty, slutty, so she must’ve seen plenty!

So I quickly finish my drink & head up to the room to read my next note.

I see the note on the bed & open it… It reads: I’m glad you didn’t run, now we will see if you’re all talk or which one of us can be the biggest slut!

Open the top drawer behind you & follow your orders on the next note.

Love, Your Cuck Goddess;)

OMG, at this point my mind is shifting between confusion & excitement, as I talk to myself… Ok she knows everything & this is a dream come true, so get your head in this game & enjoy this amazing gift!

As I then open the drawer to find another note stating: Put everything on & a nice woman will knock on your door precisely at 7:00

She has a key so you can anxiously await in the bathroom. There’s some wine & poppers in the bathroom, which you will need them both to handle this situation;)

She will be doing your makeup to make you look gorgeous & get you ready for a man.

Now shave your entire body, use Nair to get your cute little sissy ass squeaky clean. Put on the sexy clothes I picked, the heels, thigh highs, wig, etc. Slide in your little but plug & lock your cock in this flat chastity cage & congratulate yourself for being ready to be turned into a gurl & understand that you now have a clitty;)

Love, your Cuck Goddess

So I anxiously start prepping as my head spins & I quickly drink a couple wines to take the edge off this crazy turn of events as I shave & shower & put everything on & look in the mirror thinking OMG what happened, this was just a kinky fantasy & now I’m standing in the bathroom all dressed & waiting for my makeup artist to arrive! Knock knock, I hear as my stomach drops & I hear the hotel door open & close… Well here goes as the woman says ok honey let’s turn some lucky guy into a sexy gurl!!!!

She was done in about a half hour & wow I was fucking hot!!!

As she enters the bathroom & says oh yes honey we’re going to make you look irresistible to any man!!!

Now sit down & let me do my work because you have company arriving soon… She opened a laptop & pressed play & it was all sissy hypno vids playing in the background.

To be continued;)

#cuck sissy cucksissy

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jackredfieldwasmyjacob · 1 year

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this is part 2 of my extremely long lore update of my missing month in tumblr. here's part 1 <3

i'll also put this one behind the cut just in case

26. we start when this extremely important event happened !!!

THEY'RE PLAYING 'MÚSICA LIGERA' IN THE SUPERMARKET

[there is a lyric in música ligera [go listen to it. or else] that goes 'la música de fondo en los supermercados' so 'the background music at the supermarkets']

27. when spring officially started and suddenly life was bearable once again

28. the sequel.

bomb the ucm [yes. i tweeted the exact same thing]

24 nearly 25 years old and i just learned how to sign stuff with the electronic certificate. i want to shoot my foot i can't do this anymore

the thing is today i've been 3 hours calling the same 4 fucking numbers every 10 minutes only for them to tell me 'hahah everything you did last week is useless lol. but don't worry the deadline is thursday you still have time :)' [this was on a tuesday btw]

the world if the digital certificate and autofirma didn't exist

so yeah. everything i did on march 15th was useless. lol. i sent proof of my physical deposit of the application and they told me i couldn't <3. in the end i had to sign it digitally through a different administrative process and lol. i hate bureoucracy so fucking much.

28. i do love taylor swift but yeah

the eras tour: bellodrama tour:

-without ana mena -with ana mena

-52728€ tickets -22€ tickets

-she doesn't sing 'las 12' -she sings 'las 12'

the choice is yours

29. it's time for the 'hole in the bedroom' arc <3

[pic 1]

today my bedroom disappears

it wasn't a joke

[pic 2]

do you like my new setup?

SO. i honestly can't remember if i said this here but idk almost a month ago now i guess some of my floorplanks strated to lift. out of nowhere. so we called people to look into it and there was a water leak. so they had to dismantle my bed (you can see the frame in the lighter floorboards lol) and now i sleep in the attic; a room my dad has always used to hoard stuff <3 yesterday they filled the hole so that's nice, but now they have to slash the floor and for that they need all of the furniture gone. my house is basically just a long hallway so there just isn't enough space. it's gonna be fun :) oh and also we've decided to paint the room while we're at it. so i'll probably won't be able to sleep here for at least a month i imagine. this is my current setup btw, i'm writing this from here:

30. this one's a preamble of what's to come. i'm so sorry.

me: existing at any moment

my brain: i think it's time to play 'me he pillao x ti' on a loop

[now it's doing the same but with 'un clásico' <3]

31. ANA MENA WORLD DOMINATION DAY

i'll do the small tweets first and then go in chronological through pics 5, 6, and 7

GOOD DAY

the way i know for a fact that 'me he pillao x ti' would've appeared on skam españa s2 if the show had been made now

if i am already annoying with ana mena the day i fall for someone i'll be incredibly unbearable i want y'all to know it

i want ana mena to know she's changed lives today

[pic 6]

the pause in the first listen of bellodrama to listen on loop to 'me he pillao x ti' is so real actually

no words with 'un millón de lunas'

MENAmoro [i fall in love]... her mind

ana mena has made me want to go out and party for the first time in my life i can't

[pic 7]

why all songs in bellodrama have their titles with the first letter capitalized Like This except Tomorrow god Will Say? what is she trying to tell us

reply to the tweet: atheist legend

[pic 8]

i didn't choose to be anamenista i only was lucky

ana mena you gave us everything

ana mena you are the pop artist of this generation. you are everything and you are summer and the sun and margaritas. you give everything and you're the best.

i love you ana mena

32. i went back to working on my fantasy book :)

i am gonna try working on my fantasy book after more than half a year. wish me luck.

665 words #slay

33. i know you missed me talking about fictional shows that don't even exist but here you go

i need there to exist some kind of glee españa specifically so a character can sing this song to their crush and i can finish losing my mind

33. this is the last ana mena post I SWEAR

(chronologically)

half of the views are mine

the way i hadn't listened to it before the album dropped and now i'm OBSESSED

34. la caixa incident

can someone explain to me how la caixa, a catalan business, is telling me to send them documents in english for the scholarship??

so yeah. the sent me an email telling me they needed some documents in english i had sent them in spanish (which lol) and after doing so proceeded to accept my application :) apparently it's a pretty fucking good scholarship so i'm a bit hopeful i'll be able to make it <3

35. places i've been to in spain!

i know i have to visit the north more i know

36. my most listened to songs in march 💀

37. MANDATORY MEMORIAS DE IDHÚN TWEET THAT IS SCARILY ACCURATE TO MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

i am fascinated with the fact that one day laura gallego wrote three fat ass books projecting herself into a unicorn girlie that's involved with two dudes without knowing that with them she would forever change the brain chemicals of a new generation of spanish writers

38. and that's it :)

PEOPLE I GOT BACK MY TUMBLR ACCOUNT WE WON

#this one's shorter i swear

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acommonloon · 2 years

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“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” n'est-ce pas

But is it really?

TL;DR

Hadn't had La Fin Du Monde in too long. Lol, still haven't, because that's not what this is - to my surprise. I took my first sip and thought, "WTF." I sent a pic to my kiddo who lives in Belgium. He responded, "Lol I like the name!"

But the name was the problem for me. I'd noticed the green script n'est-ce pas but was not moved to look it up or to examine the bottle more closely to see the other green lettering: Belgian-style IPA.

Oddly, this was the second time in two weeks I'd ended up with a Triple IPA instead of a Tripel Belgian Ale.

At a small brewery in New Albany we were attended by a rather inattentive bartender. She was more attending than tender and mostly attending to her phone. I'd been there previously and had a conversation with a different bartender about their Belgian Tripel. I was pleased to see it was still on.

So this time I just asked for the Tripel. When I I took the first sip I thought, "WTF!" I knew it wasn't the beer I ordered so I scanned the list and notice they had a TIPA. That stands for Triple IPA. D said, "Just tell her to get you what you want." No, technically she wasn't wrong bringing me a Triple but an experienced bartender would have asked me to clarify the Triple or the Tripel.

At some point she asked me about the beer (points to her) and I said, "It's good, I meant to order the Belgian Tripel though." She looked confused, looked up at the board, and replied, "Well actually that's pronounced TripPel." She said the last syllable so it rhymed with bell. I didn't reply but when she walked off I looked at D and said, "No it isn't."

I didn't want to be annoyed by this. I didn't want to be the mansplainer. I didn't want this bartender to embarrass herself. Mostly I didn't want her to give people the wrong beer. Still, many times in my life I "Knew" something only to find out I was wrong so I texted my kiddo. He responded, "I'm with Belgians now I'll ask.

....the Belgian brewer I'm with said it's just like triple."

I didn't mention it to the bartender but I asked her to fill me a crowler of the "Belgian" Triple to take away and said it like triple. She gave me the correct beer without comment.

Back to the first beer with the name. La Fin Du Monde which I believe means "The End of the World." I never knew that but my kiddo had replied that the beer label is basically saying "It's not The End of the World."

Google says n'est-ce pas questions "is it or is it not, yes or no" or as the old English guy might say "To be or not To be."

<sigh> getting a triple IPA when you wanted a Belgian tripel is not the end of the world or even outrageous fortune.

The pay off: if you've read this far (get a life) I still wasn't "SURE" I knew the whole truth of this issue triple vs tripel so I pulled up google translate French to English.

When I clicked on the little speaker symbol under the French block a woman's French voice said, "trip el" with the accent on the "el" and it sounded like bell. OMG WTF!

Then I clicked on the English side and an English woman said,

"Try pul"

Anyway...

#it is what it is #triple or tripel #not a rose by any name

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brevemasinfinita · 3 months

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Can someone please tell me whats my problem, whats wrong with me? People keep being shit and ghosting! Boys are awful, girls are so uninterested! I mean in the romantic sense, why am i so easy to leave, to be overlooked?

Yesterday i thought about the lyrics of 100 letters by Halsey and. Yeah. "I find myself alone at night unless im havin' sex. but he can make me golden if I just showed some respect... but i don't let him touch me anymore. i said "im not something to butter up and taste when you get bored. cause i have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors to find some peace and quiet right behind a wooden door".

+ dodie song, Got Weird. At the time this bad thing happened and the lyrics applied to me "i got weird when we made out, clearly I've got shit to figure out... baby, baby, please don't hate me, call me up again, I won't get weird".

I texted my therapist and she called me immediately but i couldnt answer, i was crying and nervous and panicking. We talked over text about what when down and broke it all down and yeah!!!!! I realized some issues!!! God!!!!! But then i texted him again and we went out again and this time it was good actually but then he kept talking about sex ONLY! and i played along for a while even though i was annoyed and sadden by it. Well!!! This week after some sexting, he sent me a sex wpp sticker and it just. the draw. I just did not reply. Then the next day he texted again and i did not reply it either, then today i posted a pic of me from the geek event yesterday and he said what all fuckboys say, "aw what a baby" and i replied and then he said some shit and i said. Ofc i did not reply you only talk about sex. And then he said ok haha so that means our threesome is cancelled? And uuuuggghhh! I said see, you only talk about sex. And then he said some shit. I did not reply. Then i saw he deleted my number and unfollowed me! Lol two can play this game. No, i will not fall back into that hole. There's no way now anyways kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk uuufffff

#being bisexual does not make dating easier though! girls just do not reply or match with me on tinder so!!!!!!#lol #eu vou me m #kkkkkkkkkrying q odio vei na moral #thamires #2024 #nao acredito q to sofrendo pela mesma coisa de tantos anos atras!!!! pqp

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horansqueen · 2 years

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okay!! can i be the 🧚‍♂️ anon?

so this happened last night and i don’t feel comfy telling people irl because i feel like they’ll think i’m being dramatic.

so i’m on this penpal app. it’s great cause it’s anonymous (no pictures, just avatars that aren’t very realistic) and you can connect with people from across the world. so you send letters and depending on where the person is in the world, the letter takes time to deliver, like real pen pals.

so i made a friend on there who i really liked as a friend (i’m a girl btw {she/her} and he’s a guy). he was so much fun to talk to and was a slow to keep up with my random rants or questions and even had his own rants and questions. i looked forward to his letter more than anyone else.

but about a week ago, he would open my letters and not respond. i started thinking i maybe did something wrong and sent him a letter asking if that was the case. he opened and didn’t respond. so i waited and sent him one more saying that if i did, that i’d really like to know so that i can fix it, that i’m worried about him (i’m paranoid), and i told him that if we were okay, that maybe we could start talking about sex.

now over time, i began to feel more comfy with him which is why i said this. both of us had sex as a topic of interest in our profiles so we were both into it, we just never brought it up.

he responded pretty quickly and assured me nothing was wrong, that life just happened. but he started flirting pretty heavy.

so i found out about this app Telegram. it’s a messaging app that has you put in your phone number, but you can create a username and give that to people instead of your number. i thought this was great because i never like giving out my number to people i don’t completely trust.

so i sent him my username and said if he’s comfy with it, we can talk on there so we don’t have to wait for the letter to deliver.

so he texted me on there and all is fine for a couple hours. then the sexual talk starts. no issue, it was kinda hot. i told him im not comfy sending pics for safety reasons and he said that’s fine.

but now, sex is all he talks about. like i missed our regular convos. and i started getting really bad vibes from him. like the first night we talked on telegram, i was texting my cousin on it (who i added through contacts) a story that was totally unrelated to him and i told him this (so he’d know i’m not ignoring or uninterested in our convo) and he was like “look at you entertaining multiple guys on here while i give you my undivided attention”. i told him it’s my cousin and he played it off but i was uncomfy with how he just assumed that.

then last night we were talking sexual again (and again, no regular convo beforehand) and i was watching a youtube video between responses and i guess i wasn’t responding quick enough and he was like “you talk to a lot of people on here, eh?” and like again that rubbed me the wrong way. he’s sounding like a jealous/possessive boyfriend.

i told him i’m not interested in a relationship or anything like that. (possible tmi, i’m sorry if it’s too much) i like talking sexual like that because it’s less pressure. i can take my time with what i’m saying and for me it’s way better than all the fake p*rn. i hope that makes sense.

maybe it’s because i’ve had a lot of trauma in my past but just the combination of everything made me really uneasy. and this all happened at like 3 am this morning.

i sent him a message telling him exactly how i feel about basically everything i said here and it took him an hour and a half to reply, and in that time i was super anxious. you never know what people might do. we don’t live super far away from each other (he even wanted to meet up at some point) and i was worried about what he might do if he isn’t as cool as i initially thought he was.

that resulted in me having a very graphic nightmare about being SA’d by someone i met online and i woke up in a panic. his response was decent and not threatening, but the whole situation has me really messed up. honestly it kinda just feels good to get it off my chest.

i hope this wasn’t too much. it probably is considering it’s my first time really sending you something😅 if it is you don’t have to post it or anything. but yeah, thanks for listening and being a safe space for me (and i’m sure a lot of others)

ily ❤️ (i hope you don’t mind me saying this frequently, i like spreading love)

hey darling! thanks so much for trusting me with this, it means a lot to me. tbh this guy sounds like an ass. idk what he answered but if it makes you feel uncomfortable its totally ok to tell him or to just stop talking to him. im so sorry about the dream you had darling, it really sucks getting nightmares. ily too!!! let me know how things go!!!

#Anonymous #🧚‍♂��

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mackenzielovee · 2 years

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letters to you: six - rafe cameron

summary: everyone is haunted by something, even in pure bliss

warnings: swearing, cigarette smoking, alcohol

wc: 4.8k

a/n: hi!!! so excited about this one and hope you guys enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think :) p.s let me know if my taglist works or not, it seems tumblr updated and im not confident it's working :/ thanks !!

series masterlist

It’s Tuesday when Rafe’s letter arrives. You’re sitting on the couch with your laptop on your lap, a blanket wrapped around your body, and a textbook open on the cushion beside you. Your glasses rest too far down your nose, unwilling to remain where they should. You push them up just as Emma walks through the front door, sending her backpack flying into the living room without a care in the world.

“Fuck that class,” she grunts, making way straight into the kitchen.

“What happened?” you stifle out a laugh, but feel bad when she instantly turns and narrows her eyes at you.

“If I had your brilliant mind, I could pass it,” she says, pointing a finger at you, “You read and all that. I have an idea!”

“I’m not doing your homework for you,” you lecture, pushing your glasses up once more.

“Shit,” she groans, “Come on. You’d learn so much in Gender and Literature.”

“I’m learning plenty in the four classes I’m juggling already.”

“That’s fair,” she mutters.

You laugh and return to your homework while Emma makes tea, then brings you a mug full without you even having to ask for it.

“Thank you,” you say to her.

She nods and collapses in the chair across from the couch, raising her nose up at you as she takes in your current state.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m trying to knock out all my assignments so I don’t have to bring my laptop home with me,” you explain.

Your eyes remain on the screen, but you feel warm under her gaze. You can tell out of the corner of her eye that she’s grinning, but you don’t have the confidence to meet her stare.

“Have you told him you’re coming?”

“No,” you reply, “I’m waiting on his response to the letter I mailed Sunday.”

“Do you want me to go check the box?”

Your eyes shoot up from your screen to her. She’s already standing, mug still in hand.

“Do you really want me out of the apartment that badly?” you tease her.

“No!” she exclaims, “Oh, God, of course not. I just – I know you’re excited to see him and hear from him and all. I’ll just go check it. Be right back.”

You let her go, assuming there will be no letter because you’d checked an hour ago and found nothing. Just as you truly get back into your work, Emma enters through the front door again.

“Y/N, it’s a whole ass envelope,” she calls.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up, finding a large, yellow envelope in her hands. She tosses it to you, and you note how it’s heavy. Immediately, you smile, because you know what it is.

“What? Why do you look like that?” she questions.

“He sent me a book.”

Emma’s eyes widen sarcastically, “Wow. Good work, Rafe Cameron.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as you tear open the package.

Inside is the white envelope you’d been expecting, and when you tip it over completely, a beat up looking copy of Pride and Prejudice falls onto your lap. You flip through it absentmindedly, but your eyes catch on something inside. Pencil marks from where Rafe had written in the margins.

“Oh, my God,” you murmur.

“What? Did he stick a pic of himself in the book?” Emma climbs onto the couch, obnoxiously close and glancing over your shoulder.

“No, you creep,” you laugh and push her away, “Would you like it if he did?”

“Well, yeah. Rafe Cameron’s hot,” she shrugs, “But, he’s yours. Relax.”

You just shake your head at her, then move your eyes back to his writing. It’s messy and some of it is a little faded, but it’s so Rafe.

You open the letter next, letting his handwriting steady your heartbeat as you take in the length of his letter.

Y/N,

I’m not really in the business of missing people. I’m not close with my family, I have a few friends I see every now and then, but I’ve never actually missed someone before. Imagine my surprise with you. I enjoyed your company so much this weekend, and believe me, I’m so glad I didn’t chicken out.

I can’t imagine what that type of impact that sort of pressure can have on you long term. I bet it’s difficult. You shouldn’t have to feel like you have to prove yourself as worthy of love or attention from anyone, let alone some stupid frat guy. He couldn’t hold a candle to your brilliance anyway. Don’t put any thought into people like that. Although, I am relieved to hear that you don’t feel that pressure with me. I’m glad, because what a shame it would be to not get to experience you the way I do.

Thanks for telling me how you feel. It’s nice to know we’re on the same page. I feel very lucky that you saw through my “facade” as you so gently said. Thanks for that. And trust me, I think about that night all the time, too. Especially that dress you were wearing. I’d have done anything you asked of me. Swear.

I put in my old copy of Pride and Prejudice. It’s got some notes in it, I hope you don’t mind. I’m sure you have a copy, but you told me you were going to re-read it, and I like the idea of you reading mine.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say. I hope your week is going well. You’re beautiful.

Sincerely,

Rafe

You’re grinning like an idiot by the time you’re through with the letter. You’re already thinking about what you want to say back, then diving into the book, when you realize Emma’s still in the room.

“You should see your face right now,” she scoffs, “I’ve never looked at Ethan like that. Then again, the nicest thing he’s done for me is bring a bottle of Henny over before we go out. Maybe you could get Rafe Cameron to talk to him.”

You laugh, wondering if she’ll ever stop calling him by his full name. Emma wanders into her room after a while, claiming she needs a nap and leaving you to finish your homework in peace. Because you want to see Rafe this weekend. Even if it means a few long nights.

Rafe,

So, I’ve been thinking about something. I’m going to come home this weekend. If the offer still stands, I’d love to see you while I’m there. I wasn’t really planning on seeing my parents, but if it’s too soon of a warning or anything, it’s totally okay. I can stay with them and maybe we can just see each other one day while I’m there. I miss you, too, and I’d really like to see you this weekend. But don’t be rearranging plans or anything. If you have other obligations, that’s really okay.

Thank you so much for your copy of Pride and Prejudice. I love the annotations in there and I can’t wait to see your thoughts in further detail. Although, I’m not sure I will agree with them. I’m starting tonight.

Have you gotten far into the book I gave you? We’ll have to talk about it when I see you. Sometimes it can be hard to write exactly how you feel, because you can get tired of writing. Or feeling. I’m not sure.

Let me know about this weekend. I have been thinking about it nonstop since you left, really, and I just want to know if it’s possible to see you. We’ll talk soon, I’m sure.

Take care,

Y/N

You mail the letter on Wednesday. The rest of the day is just class, homework, and cooking dinner, all while you wonder where your words are now. You’re sure they’ll make it to Rafe by tomorrow.

On Thursday evening, your phone rings. It’s not expected, but when you see his name, you smile and hurry into your bedroom, closing the door so Emma doesn’t listen.

“Hello?”

“Are you serious?” he questions immediately.

You furrow your brows, “What?”

“You’re coming home?”

He sounds hopeful, but also like he’s hesitant. You smile wider than you think you ever have in your life, nodding slowly even though he can’t see you.

“I mean, yeah,” you say shyly, “If you’re free.”

“Y/N, hell yes, I’m free,” he scoffs, “Are you kidding?”

You laugh and collapse on your bed, feeling calmer just from hearing his voice. You’ve missed it in a way that almost doesn’t make sense to you.

“Good. I’ll be in tomorrow,” you inform him.

“I’ll pick you up at the port,” he volunteers.

“Rafe, you don’t have to. I can get an Uber–”

“You’re not getting an Uber. Stop. I’ll be there. You just have to let me know what time.”

“It’ll be about four,” you say.

You check the time, seeing that’s less than twenty-four hours from now. He inhales sharply, and you can just picture him staring at his watch as he presses his phone to his ear.

“So, you’re saying I have less than twenty four hours to get my apartment ready for you?”

He’s teasing and you know it, but your heart sinks. You don’t want him to feel like he has to host you or entertain you, or feel like you’re burdening him.

“No, you really don’t have to do anything, I mean, I can stay with my parents–”

“I’d really like it if you stayed with me,” he stops you, “But if you’d feel more comfortable with them, I get that.”

The conversation grows silent for a minute as you consider. Of course you want to stay with Rafe. You want to see him in the morning when he’s just woken up, you want to watch TV with him until two in the morning and not worry about getting home. You just don’t want to be in his way. Ultimately, you decide, you’re not going to be.

“I’d love to stay with you, Rafe. As long as you’re sure it’s okay.”

“Y/N, it’s more than okay,” he laughs incredulously, “I can’t think of anything I’d like more, actually.”

You grin, “Okay then. Four o’clock tomorrow.”

“I’m counting down,” he tells you, “Travel safe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “Bye, Rafe.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Emma let you get on the ferry only after going through the mental checklist of everything you could possibly need three separate times. Then, she hugs you and makes you promise to update her when you can. You just nod along, then give her a hug and tell her you’re going to be late. Reluctantly, she blows you a kiss and waits until the ferry leaves to head back.

Pride and Prejudice keeps you entertained for the entire two hour ferry ride, and you barely even notice it’s time to get off until the intercom tells you so.

You mark your place in Rafe’s book, then grab your bag and stand up. Your mind is running wild, but at the same time, you feel calm. You know he’s waiting for you, looking handsome as ever, and it’ll make you melt right there on the dock.

Once you’re off the ferry, it takes you approximately five seconds to spot him in the small crowd of people waiting a safe distance away from the water. He’s smoking a cigarette and leaning against a wooden post, staring up at the sky and watching his smoke disappear. The second your eyes land on him, it’s like he can feel it. He stands up straight and grins when he sees you, crushing the cigarette under his foot instantly. You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, or the fact that you move a little bit faster to get to him.

“Hi, Rafe,” you greet, arms opening when his own attempt to welcome you. He wraps himself around you and squeezes you tight, unwilling or unable to let go right away.

“Hey, honey,” he says against your head, “Glad you made it safely.”

His scent, now so familiar to you, comforts you as you bury your head into his chest. You don’t miss how his lips graze over the top of your head, pressing over so lightly into your hair that you’re not even completely sure it happened.

After a minute, you move your head up and rest your chin on his sternum, staring up at him comfortably. You’re sure you have a giddy smile on your face, but so does he, so you don’t mind.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he laughs down at you.

“You smell good,” you shrug against him, “And I’m happy.”

He grins widely then, and as you stare up at him and his gorgeous smile, all you want to do is kiss him right here. Right in front of the tourists and the locals who had gone off the island for the day.

“Me too,” he says quietly.

His eyes gloss over as he stares down at you, confirming that he’s thinking the same thing you are. Ultimately, you decide that your first kiss with Rafe shouldn’t be right out in the open, and you pull back from him slightly.

He wraps his hand around yours and lifts your bag from your shoulder, placing it on his own as he leads you to the parking lot.

“Did you read?” he asks you.

“I did. The annotations are my favorite part.”

He stifles out a laugh, but you can tell the way his shoulders rise that he’s slightly embarrassed by the annotations he’d made.

“I was a little more cynical back then,” he says.

“When did you read it?”

He stops you at his truck, tossing your bag in the backseat with the free hand he has. He squeezes your hand and then pulls you closer, not too much, but just enough that it makes both of you smile.

“I was nineteen,” he tells you, “I was taking some classes online and I had to read it for this paper I had to write. I hated it.”

“You hated it?” you raise a brow.

“Big time,” he smiles, “I even tried all those websites with free summaries, but my essay sounded so shitty that I knew if I wanted the grade, I actually had to read the book.”

“Look at you now,” you tease.

He grins and pulls you even closer, seemingly unable to keep you away from his chest now that he’d felt you there once.

“I’m so damn glad I read that book.”

You grin, squeezing his hand before you pull back from him. When he looks down at you, there’s almost a sense of disbelief that he’s got you in his grip right now; that you’re here, and that he’d gotten to come pick you up.

His eyes rake over all of your features meticulously, like he’s trying to memorize you before you evaporate in front of him. He lets his eyes fall to your chest only for a moment, and you don’t miss the way he swallows as he looks back up at you.

You watch him, feeling lightheaded, as he slowly angles his head and leans himself down. He’s keeping eye contact with you, never faltering or falling away. As much as you want this right now, at this moment, you know you can’t. Someone who knows your parents could be here, ready to call and tell them they saw you getting off the ferry. The thought of your dad knowing you were home and didn’t tell him breaks your heart in half.

When you pull back from him, keeping a light expression on your face, Rafe pulls away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and straightens his posture.

“No, Rafe, it’s okay,” you say, squeezing his hand, “I’m just worried someone will see me. Maybe we should go.”

You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches at your statement, but before you can question it, he nods and drops your hand. Silently, he opens the passenger door for you and closes it once you’re in the truck, then hurries to the driver’s side and climbs in.

The smile he’d given you when you got off the ferry is gone. You cross your arms over your chest as a defense, not sure what exactly had changed. Just because you wouldn’t kiss him for the first time in front of other people, he’s frustrated? It doesn’t make sense to you.

He flips on the radio after a few minutes of dead silence in the car, one hand draped loosely over the steering wheel and another sitting on the arm rest, flipping through channels. When he isn’t satisfied with any of them, he turns it off again.

“Rafe,” you say slowly, “I’m sorry if I upset you–”

“It’s fine,” he replies, doing his best to keep his voice even ,”I get it. I mean, I don’t have the greatest reputation around here or anything.”

You look over at him, and he watches the road. You uncross your arms from your chest and look down at his free hand lazily wrapped around the gear shift. A major part of you is telling you to take it, to try your best to understand what Rafe’s feeling.

“What are you talking about?” you question him.

He clenches his jaw, looking as if he’s fighting a huge urge to look over at you. His hand flexes on the gear shift, and while it’s subtle, you notice it.

“I was a fucking asshole back then, I know I was. That seems to be all people know about me. Or want to know, anyway. So, I get why you don’t want people on the island seeing me all over you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”

You suck in a deep breath, unsure of where to start to explain to him that that wasn’t the reason why you’d pulled back. Of course it wasn’t. A part of you can’t even believe he’d think that of you. Another part of you knows it’s not actually about you at all, it’s his insecurities coming out to play.

“Can you pull over, please?” you request.

He doesn’t question you, doesn’t look over at you. He simply does what you ask, pulling off the road and into the grass, then puts his truck in park.

He swallows and you watch as he decides whether or not he wants to look at you. His hands clasp together in his lap, fiddling to help rid some of his anxiousness, you’re sure.

“Look at me,” you practically whisper.

His eyes flicker up to you at your demand, moreso because you’re usually so polite and passive that he doesn’t expect such an assertive request from you.

“Y/N, seriously, it’s fine–”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t pull away like that because I was afraid someone would see me with you. I was afraid someone would see me. I didn’t want my parents finding out that I’m home if I don’t tell them or go see them, and I was afraid one of their friends or someone from the Club might’ve been down there. I was being overly cautious. It had nothing to do with you, Rafe. I’m sorry. I should’ve made that more clear.”

He stares into your eyes with regret, watching as you silently beg him for forgiveness. With the little time you have with him, you don’t want it to be tainted by misunderstandings. He sighs after a minute and shakes his head, directing the movement at himself more than you.

“Shit,” he mutters, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you tell him, reaching for his hand.

He turns it on top of the gear shift so you can wrap your fingers around his, making him smile.

“Yes, I do. Regardless of the reason why you pulled away, I shouldn’t have acted like an asshole.”

You want to tell him you know he’s just insecure about something, and whatever it is, you’ll care for him regardless. However, you can tell he’s already beating himself up, and the last thing you want to do is add onto that by admitting that you’ve read him and you know there’s something deeper at play. Trusting that he’ll tell you if and when he’s ready, you just squeeze his hand instead.

“It’s okay. I really wanted to, though.”

He smiles, a hint of teasing in his eyes as he speaks, “Wanted to what?”

You stutter out a laugh, squirming under his gaze. He chuckles, but he’s relentless in the way you expect him to be, wanting you to say it. After a minute, you purse your lips and ignore the nervousness swirling around in your stomach, the heat spreading across your body.

“I really wanted to kiss you, Rafe,” you tell him quietly.

You’re never sure what to expect from him. Normally, you’d find that unsettling about a person, but with Rafe, you know that regardless of his reaction, you’ll never feel upset or humiliated. Which, you know, is the only reason why you tell him what he wants to hear.

Furthering your hypothesis, Rafe laughs and nods his head, then releases your hand so he can put the truck in drive. You collapse into your seat, watching him watch the road.

“That can be arranged,” he replies once he has his smile under control.

You laugh from beside him and hope that he’s right.

Rafe’s apartment building looks just as you remember it. He holds your hand all the way from the parking lot up to his apartment door, all the while carrying your bag. You can feel your nerves pulsing at the thought of seeing the inside of Rafe’s apartment; how he lives, where he eats, the place he writes to you. The place he spends most of his time, when he’s not working. He pulls his keys from his pocket without releasing your hand, then unlocks the door. The apartment is dark when the door opens, and Rafe guides you in first by your hand.

“It’s not much,” he warns as he flips on the light in the entryway.

You ignore him with a wave, releasing his hand as you step further inside. It’s an extremely open concept; you walk right into the kitchen off the front door and you can see the living room from there, too. There’s a door off the living room on one side and a door off the other, which you assume to be the two bedrooms he’d referred to.

The first thing you notice is how it’s exactly what you’d expect from Rafe. He has nice furniture, a television hanging on the opposite wall as the couch, and a bookshelf that’s packed to the brim with books. You can also see the sliding glass door that leads out to his balcony – the place he so famously named as the spot where he writes to you.

He stands in the kitchen with his arms and legs crossed, leaning up against the counter and perfectly content to let you take in everything about his home. You smile timidly at him and move closer, wanting to explore the kitchen next.

It’s pretty typical, again what you’d expect from him. When your eyes catch on the stack of stuff sitting beside his sink, you furrow your eyebrows. His home is so clean, that leaving out a big pile of stuff seems odd for him. When you move closer, however, you realize what it is.

There’s two bottles of white wine hidden behind everything, and upon further inspection, you recognize the group of ingredients spread out in front of you. It’s absolutely everything you need to make snickerdoodles. Everything clicks for you right then, causing a huge grin to spread across your face. When you turn around to him, eyes almost as wide as your smile, he’s already close.

“I realize it’s awfully seventeenth century of me to ask a woman into my home and then have her bake for me, but I was hoping–”

“Yes,” you blurt, “I promised you I would, and I will.”

He grins and laces his fingers through yours, then carefully guides you backward until your back hits the countertop. He’s so close, that seems to be all you can think about. Your mind buzzes with his proximity, how good he smells, how you hope he doesn’t waste another second. His smile transforms into a smirk as he sees the expression on your face, you’re sure your want for him is written all over it.

He pauses right as his nose brushes over yours, ever so meticulous with his timing.

“Would you like some wine?” he practically whispers.

You smile, “Are you teasing me?”

“A little.”

Surprising him as much as yourself, you rise up on your tiptoes to meet his mouth. He adjusts in about half a second, using his free hand to cup your cheek and hold you to him. He keeps the kiss gentle, both of you only just wanting to feel each other.

Even with his tenderness, you feel lightheaded right away. There was something about the whiskey in his scent that you could never pinpoint, but now, you swear you can taste it. Cinnamon whiskey and smoke. That is Rafe Cameron.

Neither of you make any effort to deepen it, but you don’t make any effort to stop, either. You’d bet it’s been almost two entire minutes before he pulls back to let you breathe, an astounded look on his face.

“Shit,” he mumbles, already eyeing your lips, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

You give him the same look he’s giving you, and before you know it, his mouth is back on yours. It’s like a floodgate has been opened; once you two innocently touched the first time, it set the wheels in motion for everything to follow. You don’t mind a bit. Nothing you’ve done in the past twenty-one years has felt even remotely close to how this feels.

It clicks right then. There’s feelings involved here. Out of all the men you kissed – all being four – you’d never felt the same with them as you do with Rafe. Not even close.

Rafe lets out a groan and breaks the kiss, guiding your head into his chest as he catches his breath.

“That’s–” he starts, then inhales and exhales before he tries again, “I– You have to believe me when I tell you I didn’t just want you here so we could do that.”

You laugh, letting your hand grip onto his shirt as you remain pressed against his chest.

“I know,” you say, “But it’s a plus.”

He guides your head off of him after a minute so he can look at you. Puffy pink lips, dilated pupils, and a smile tugging at each end of your mouth. You’re sure that’s what you look like, because he looks the exact same.

“You’re beautiful, honey. Do you know that yet?”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head, “Rafe, stop.”

“No,” he replies, guiding you back into his chest and wrapping his arms around your figure, “I’ll just have to keep telling you until it sticks.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” you reply, hiding your smile in his shirt.

“Me neither. What do you want for dinner?”

You shrug against him, “Whatever you want.”

You can feel him smile against the top of your head as he presses a kiss there, no longer ghosting his lips over you. There’s no debate on whether or not he’s kissed you.

“There’s this really good Thai place that does delivery. Do you like Thai?”

You nod, “Love it.”

“Perfect,” he says, starting to squirm away.

You move to protest, which only makes him laugh. His hand squeezes yours, and when your eyes connect, you swear you never would’ve imagined that night at the Christmas party that he’d turn out to be such an amazing man.

“I’ll get you some wine and a takeout menu,” he says, “Go snoop through my bookshelf. I know you want to.”

You giggle and pull your hand from his, letting him guide your mouth back to his for another kiss before you separate. It’s quick, definitely not enough for you to end the night, but it’s enough for now. Both of you smile as you pull away, and you waste no time making a bee-line for his living room.

You glance at only a few books before you turn around to look at him, grateful for his open concept living space. He’s opening one of the bottles he bought for you, and before you manage to look away, he steals a look over his shoulder, too. You both laugh and look away, but you’d swear to anyone who would listen that you’ve never felt like this, and you’re sure you never will again.

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peppermint-toads · 3 years

Note

hello ! i was watching the met gala last night and got this idea with poly!marauders (im such a sucker for them) like they have this big important event and y/n has to go pick dresses and the marauders just drool all over her and then they go to the event and everyone is taking pics lmao i hope this doesnt suck so much i just didnt know how to redact it, i hope ur having a nice day <3

an: sorry this took so long ly

cw: poly marauders x female reader, seamstress doesn’t like you and comments on your body

All you were told was the attire was formal and there would be an open bar. It was some sort of high society wizarding gala, and with Sirius Black’s cushy status, you made the guest list.

“Sirius, I don’t even have a dress!” You groaned. Sirius rolled his eyes, he knew that. “That’s why we're taking you out, poppet.” Remus chimed in. “But- I don’t have the money to buy a fancy dress like that!” Sirius, again, rolled his eyes. He knew that too.

“I’ve already made arrangements for you, puppy, don’t fret.” Sirius tutted. He pulled you to his chest from behind, leaning down to plant kisses on your shoulders.

Sirius had sent an owl to the Black Family seamstress as soon as he received the invitations. She had been outfitting the Blacks for years and years, catering to their very specific and expensive taste. She was a bitter old woman at times, but she was the best seamstress in London.

The bell above the worn, wooden door chimed as you entered, James, Sirius, and Remus in tow. You were met with a dimly lit, barren entryway. Sirius pushed past you, leaning into the hallway.

“Eleanor?” Sirius called. A scraggly voice echoed from deep inside the shop. Sirius turned back to motion the three of you forward, further into the darkened hall. You followed hesitantly.

When the woman finally came into view, she was hunched over her sewing table, a flickering lamp barely illuminating her wrinkles. Her fingers were needle-bitten, and her teeth were all out of line. She wore what seemed to be a permanent scowl, the lines around her mouth cementing the expression.

“Sirius, young man, is that you?” She squinted.

“Yes, Miss Buttermere, it’s me. I hope my letter found you well?” He leaned down to kiss her aged hand. She nodded, confirming that she was aware of the reason for his visit. “I’ve prepared some things.” Now that she was speaking clearly, you could tell her voice was croaky, and she had an overbearing Birmingham accent.

You found it hard to believe the woman was able to appease the Black family for so long, as even you doubted her abilities upon first glance.

She squinted again, crows feet scrunching together. “And your company?” She eyed over each one of you, and you shifted vulnerably. She stood from her chair, back cracking horrendously as she did so. Her bones clicked as she walked woodenly over to you. “The dress is for the girl, I presume.” She looked you up and down disapprovingly. “Unless it’s for that one.” She murmured, gesturing towards James.

James stiffened his spine, “Hey!” He began angrily. Sirius quickly silenced him with a glare. “Yes, the dress is for the girl.”

“Are you sure you sent the right measurements?” Miss Buttermere was circling you now, pinching at your flesh. Your face reddened as you folded your arms over your chest.

“No need to be crass, Eleanor. I’m certain.” Sirius replied shortly. She smacked her lips and scoffed. “Your mother would never approve,” she grimaced.

“You!” She pointed at Remus, slightly startling the lycanthrope. “Come help with the dresses.” She walked off and Remus followed like a dog on a leash.

He came back with a pile of dresses laid over his outstretched arms. You gave Remus a sorry smile before going to inspect the heap of fabric. There were blacks and browns, the most beautiful golds, all of which would complement your complexion so nicely.

“Come on now, haven’t got all night!” Eleanor bit.

The first dress was shorter than the rest, it hit about a quarter way down your thigh, which of course, the boys loved. There were delicate strings of beads that draped down your arms and over your shoulders. The print was minimal, and the dress was a shimmering gold with a translucent cerulean blue peeking through the pattern.

When you looked back, all three boys were practically drooling. Sirius, without taking his eyes off of you, commented. “It’s lovely, dear, but maybe something a bit more formal?” Remus almost looked offended, Sirius must’ve been out of his gourd to dissuade you from the selection. James, poor, poor James, was sat on Eleanor’s tattered couch with a pillow covering his crotch.

The next one was closer to floor-length, with elaborate swirls covering the entire garment. It was mostly deep brown with accents of russian violet here and there. There was beautiful burnt orange lace at the bust and trail of the dress. You ran your hands over the raised beads that trailed around your body in ornate patterns. Three pairs of eyes followed your hand as you touched your body provocatively. Each dress fit you like a glove, you were unsure of how Sirius managed to collect such precise measurements.

The third dress hit only about half an inch above the ground. A thin layer of black, fine silk tulle fell around the pitch black dress, pooling at your feet and onto the floor below. The silken fabric acted as a cape almost, and it even extended up your neck, covering your chest in a sheer layer of fabric, still allowing your cleavage to show. The fabric was simple, but the design more than made up for it. The dark color highlighted your natural silhouette.

You could hear Remus swallow thickly behind you, clearly trying to maintain his composure. If it weren’t for Eleanor still lurking in the corner, Remus would’ve had his hands all over you, peeling the gorgeous dress right off your skin.

You twirled to face them, smiling, “What do you think boys?”

“We’ll take this one.” Sirius decided. James looked like a lost puppy, eyes glossed over and mouth slightly agape. You were surprised he wasn’t rutting up into his little protective pillow.

You were relieved to have a dress and to leave the shop. The thick air of Eleanors work space was beginning to take a toll on you. You breathed in the fresh air deeply.

“Do you think we have time for a little fun before the event?” You asked while walking along, looking back towards James. “I fear poor Jamesie may explode without it.” You gave a faux pout. Sirius let out a wolfish laugh, clearly finding humor in the situation. But Remus’ eyes were dark. “I’m sure we can make time.”

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scotianostra · 2 years

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On July 4th 1796 Robert Burns took up residence at the Brow Inn near Ruthwell, Dumfries and Galloway.

Our bard was ill and on the advice of his doctor he drank the waters at the Brow Well, a chalybeate spring.

Chalybeate springs or waters, also known as ferruginous waters, are mineral spring waters containing salts of iron and other salts which were believed to have many properties beneficial to health. According to 18th century maps there were a number of these wells in the area.

Used as a staging post by drovers taking their cattle to England for sale, the hamlet had at Burns' time around a dozen houses. One of which was small inn that although run by the Davidsons, husband and wife, was owned by James Morpeth and survived until 1863 when it was demolished. Brow had a minor reputation as a poor mans spa with its Chalybeate well and sea bathing in the Solway Firth a hundred metres or so away down a narrow lane.

As well as the waters his doctor also prescribed horse riding and the drinking of port, nowadays I understand that port is a cause of gout, so glad I wasn’t alive back then. The inn did not serve port wine but it is thought he sought out another inn at nearby Clarencefield. During this stay, on 5th July, Maria Riddell sent her carriage to collect him so that he could dine with her at Lochmaben. She recorded that he had the “stamp of death” on his face and was “touching the brink of eternity” and his greeting to her was “Well madam, have you any commands for the other world”.

On another occasion during his stay at Brow, Burns visited Ruthwell Manse to take tea with the minister. When the minister’s daughter offered to draw the curtain so that the sun did not shine in his eyes Burns replied, 'Let the sun shine in upon us, my dear young lady, he has not long to shine upon me’. The scene was poignantly recreated in a painting by Duncan McKellar, now on display at the Dick Institute in Kilmarnock.

When the spring tides passed and left the sea too far from Brow Well to be able to swim in the seawater, Burns returned to Dumfries. He died on 21 July.

The Southern Scottish Counties Burns Association holds an annual ceremony at Brow Well to commemorate the anniversary of Burns’ death.

Pics are the aforementioned pic at Ruthwell Manse, Brow Well circa 1800, I would assume it was much the same during Burns’ visit, and the well as it is now, after a restoration more recently.

#Scotland #scottish #robert burns #the scottish bard #rabbie burns #history

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

3K notes · View notes

ujjwal4ev3r · 3 years

Text

THE GUY

I wore the Black Tie,

Denying Me,Just like that My chest faced the Spear,

Seeing the SkyHigh,

Looks Near,But still makes A Whole Sphere,

Sending a Snap with a pic and a #Sigh,

Ordering food that was Thai,

Me greeting people "Hi"!,

Well Everyone's got that Self-Superiority of "I",

In politics,We make Ally,

Making and Playing with People's Trust is what they Apply,

Happiness and Profoundness is what We try,

Sometimes it's Chaos,We've Supplied,

From Eating a pie in Chennai,

To drinking a Chai in Mumbai,

Me packing the Gear

To appear at the Premiere,

It was the month of July,

It had been a boring day,I'd sent my clothes to Dry..

From my Dad Colouring his Silver hair With Dye

Onto My sister blushing about her boyfriend and Being Shy

To My mother shopping is where She'd get the feels of "Fly"..

I had to Imply the Pi Here,

With only Myself to Cheer,

When there's People we Love..We don't lie,

Supporting My Bi Friend who'd buy a lotta clothes would try to get brain cells Fry,

With Everyone who interferes..

There's this One thing that People don't care if We called em "Sincere" or "Dear",

They all Rely on "Why?"

With a Career,Everyone expecting us to Pioneer,

How are we Clear if we are to Fear or Disappear?

Ending the the letter with "By"

Being my Own Spy

She flee to Dubai

Why do we need to Simplify when we Can Glorify?

With a Guy who'd Die for Her Reply

Would on the Inside Cry

All Ignore the Rear Mirror,

That's how We drink Beer,Sometimes All we Need to Do is to make People Hear..

As I finish this Poem with My eyes filled with Tears

#thoughts #ujjwal #ujjwals universe #ujjwal4ev3r #sad poems #my poems #the guy

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ddagent · 3 years

Note

Hiii if hot Instagram dad Jaime maybe decided he wanted to do some fun maiden day activities to post onto his account and dragged long suffering Brienne into it, I would love that. (I will die for that universe)

Thank you so much for the prompt, Anon! This is not *quite* what you asked for; consider it a mild reboot of the insta!dad Jaime ‘verse. I hope you enjoy it all the same.

“This is a passenger announcement. Flight 8OATH7 to Storm’s End is delayed. Please check the departures board for further information.”

Brienne let out an almighty groan that was shared between her and the other passengers wanting to leave Braavos. A quick glance to the departures board showed that the two-minute adjustment in departure time had now extended a full two hours. Several of her fellow passengers headed off to the bar or duty-free shops. Brienne just slumped into her seat. At least it wasn’t Sevenmas she was missing. Just Maiden’s Day.

Oh, but she was really looking forward to spending Maiden’s Day with Jaime.

Slipping her phone out of her pocket, Brienne scrolled to Home and pressed the call button. After a few rings, a confident little voice answered. “Lannister-Tarth residence. This is Catelyn speaking. Who are you?”

Brienne felt herself beaming at her eldest daughter’s phone manner. “Cat, it’s Mummy. Is Daddy around?”

“Mummy! When are you coming back? We miss you!”

“I miss you too, Little Lion. I’ll be home soon. Can you put Daddy on?”

“Sure.”

There was a clunk, then a long pause, before Jaime came on the phone. Excited babbles came over the line, and Brienne could just envision Jaime in their foyer at Evenfall, holding their youngest in his arms. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Not great. I’m stuck in Braavos; there’s not a flight out for at least two hours. I don’t think I’m going to get home today.”

“It’s okay, Brienne. We can celebrate Maiden’s Day tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ending the call, Brienne settled back into the uncomfortable plastic seat made for a person at least a foot shorter than her. The other passengers were on their phones, playing games such as Angry Dragons or Game of Tarts; more than a few were scrolling through social media. Brienne followed suit. She opened up her ravenmail account and replied to a few emails; the university wanting an update on her latest findings. Unfortunately, the Braavosi artefacts she had been sent to authenticate were frauds. After she’d done that and sent a text to her Dad, asking him to check in on Jaime and the kids, she went to open up her own accounts. That’s when she heard it.

“—I guess we’ll have to celebrate another night. Sweetling, we love you, and I can’t wait for you to get home.”

Two seats down were three young women dressed for sun and fun rather than Brienne’s ill-fitting business suit. They were staring longingly at one of their phones. “He is just so hot. He’s such a great dad and clearly an amazing husband.”

“Did you see the snap of him doing topless push-ups with his kids on his back? Oh-em-gee, I nearly died.”

“What about the one at the zoo? All tanned and muscular picking his daughter up to look at the lion cage? He is hot a-eff. I swear, every time I look at his Quip feed, my ovaries hurt.”

The three young women continued to drool over Brienne’s husband, or the hot Dad at kingofthe_pride. He’d had the Quip account since Catelyn was born, wanting to show off adorable pictures of their baby girl while he was a stay-at-home-dad. The account had grown popular as Jaime was earnest, loving, and downright gorgeous. Users on Quip had followed him from being a first-time Dad to looking after their boy, Brynden, and their youngest, Joanna. It brought in a little sponsorship money and a lot of unwelcome DMs. He screenshotted her the best ones, along with some personal pics just for her.

Loading Quip, Brienne found Jaime’s most recent story. He was in their garden, Joanna climbing on his shoulder while the other two gathered round to stare at the phone. “So, I just got a call from my wife that she’s stuck in an airport departure lounge and won’t be able to come home tonight. Which is a shame, because these three cubs were going to stay at Grandad’s.”

Jaime offered the camera a sultry wink that would melt most women. Hells, Brienne had been married to him for nine years, and she was still a puddle! “I guess we’ll have to celebrate another night. Sweetling, we love you, and I can’t wait for you to get home.”

All three of their children waved at the camera; Brynden and Ser Roar blowing her a kiss. It disappeared onto the next story – Jaime’s sister, Cersei, wine tasting at her vineyard in Dorne – before Brienne clicked back to his account. There was another post already.

“Oh–em–gee, they’re making Maiden’s Day cards together.”

The picture was, in fact, in the children’s playroom. The large mahogany table that had once sat knights of old was now covered in card, glitter, and felt tip pens. Jaime’s shoulder-length hair was pulled off his face, his grin wide and bright, as Joanna helped him pour sapphire-blue glitter into the shape of a heart. Brynden was working on his letters in his own handmade Maiden’s Day card. Catelyn was drawing something else.

kingofthe_pride: Couldn’t get to the shops, B. Handmade okay?

Brienne chuckled, especially at the next picture of Jaime holding up Catelyn’s drawing of Ser Galladon of Morne and his sword.

kingofthe_pride: Little Lion misunderstood the task. Think you might enjoy it better than mine.

Already the picture had a ton of likes and plenty of comments. Brienne tried to avoid deciphering the string of emojis following several of them; instead, she focused on the smiles of her husband and children. An email from the university diverted her attention, but, when she returned, there was another post from Jaime.

kingofthe_pride: All your partner wants for M-Day is flowers, chocolates, and a sword.

It was a photo of Jaime in the Evenfall museum on Tarth; a crimson bow attached to the exhibit glass holding Oathkeeper. Brienne barked out a laugh, startling a few nearby passengers including the young women who had been drooling over her husband. The next few posts were equally touching: Jaime and the children making flower crowns (#myqueenofloveandbeauty); Jaime and the children making chocolate cupcakes (#knight-feast).

Shaking her head, Brienne opened up her messenger app and found her husband’s name.

B: I love you. Ser Husband: I know. I’m very lovable. B: And modest. Ser Husband: Well, that picture of me with a flower crown has over 600 likes already. Ser Husband: I just wanted to lift your spirits while you’re stuck in a dingy airport lounge. B: You did. Thank you ♥ Ser Husband: Would you like a kingofthe_pride exclusive? B: Always.

The next photo was a selfie. Jaime was in her study; the last of the afternoon light streaming in and highlighting the blonde in his hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes. The angle was off: there were no pixels of his muscular arms or tight abs. He was just a forty-year-old Dad taking a poorly aimed selfie, and staring at the camera with so much love it made her heart ache.

B: I miss you. Ser Husband: I miss you, too.

“This is a passenger announcement. Flight 8OATH7 to Storm’s End is now boarding Please check your ticket information and proceed to Gate 14.”

B: See you soon x

#Anonymous #braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts #brienne is clearly 'ser wife' in his phone

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the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years

Text

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Dealers

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