#female tau

[vlepkaaday]

Originally I wanted her to be just chilling on a couch with an energy drink and a ps5 game pad. But when I finished it, it seemed to me like a perfect pinup style model for an ad so went with this concept all the way:)

I really like these fake Warhammer beverage mock-up ads might do some more as it’s becoming a series.

Anyways here’s a nice sporty fire warrior, preparing for her next fight for Farsight enclaves.

#digital art #art #fanart #warhammer #sci-fi #warhammer40k #cartoon #mockup #fake ad #energy drink #pinup #tau #tau firewarrior #female tau

[theironwarsmith]

Xenology, part one

My friend was kind of enough to let me have this rare gem, since he lives out in Hong Kong and he has a load of stuff still here in the UK (I also snagged a load of 3rd and 4th edition codexes as well as Imperial Armour books 2-4 (The Taros Campaign and The Anphelion Project).

Anyways, here are some of the awesome art pieces in this great book:

1) Imperial Propaganda against a Xenos species

2) Said species dissected

3) A female Tau Ethereal/Celestial, according to the notes on the page to the right.

4) Dissected Eldar, possibly an exodite

5) a dissected Umbra xenos

6) Space Marines fighting Umbra

7) Ork dissection

8) Kroot dissection

9) Q'orl dissection

There will be a second part to this post

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #w40k #40k #xenos #umbra #t'au #t'au empire #tau ethereal #female tau #ork #orks #kroot #eldar #aeldari #q'orl #xenos dissection #xenology #dissection

[yourdailyqueer]

Tau Lewis

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

DOB: Born 1993

Ethnicity: Afro Canadian

Occupation: Artist

#Tau Lewis #lesbianism #wlw #queerness #lgbt #female #lesbian #1993 #black #afro canadian #canadian #poc #artist

[socklessxpanda]

Crisis battlesuit #1 complete ✅

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer community #female warhammer #painting warhammer #tau empire

[doolallymagpie]

I think you can tell which of my Fists successor chapters follows the “Reasonable Marines” model just from the Chapter Masters

#I mean…one’s allied to the T’au… #warhammer 40000 #adeptus astartes #space marines #female space marines #female astartes #imperial fists #restitutors #steel wardens #tau empire #t’au #mont’ko’vash’o camine rogalova #leonida nerys

[epireancrusade]

Time for some steamy stuff! If you are interested to use this set up for your own T’au/human fanfics, feel free to do so and let me see what you have written.

Thanks to the greenskin invasion in the nearby system, neither T’au or imperium had the manpower to fight against each other for the pleasure planet of Panoma. Paradise planet known from it’s magnificent beaches and opulent hotels had almost fallen to the clutches of the local genestealer cult, but a swift action by the T’au fleet had annihilated the threat. The hope that the grateful rulers of Panoma would accept the greater good and join the T’au empire was soon proved false, when imperial fleet suddenly emerged to the system. Instead of all-out war, the opposing armies of equal strength chose diplomacy. Urzog’s orks were rampaging around the area, and neither party wanted to spend their strength against a lesser threat.

In the end, a fragile peace was reached, and Panoma would be a neutral territory for now. A small occupation force would be left to the planet by both sides, and the Kissian 178th, a regiment which had recently suffered great losses in the reconquest of agri-world of Moloch was ordered to maintain imperial authority on the area.

What followed was two years of shared existence. The beaches, casino’s and hotel districts would be the stage for a completely differend kind of war, where both the T’au and the Kissians would do their very best to impress and outmatch each others in friendly competitions and military performances. Eventually the situation led to mutual admiration and even some inter-species relationships were formed. The smaller T’au warriors were quite impressed and a bit intimidated by the robust women from the 178th, who were all ex-miners and penal laborers from the Kissian mining industry.

#epirean crusade #Astra Militarum #Imperial Guard #kissian people's guard #Female warrior #Tau Empire #lesbiaans

[grandpriestofthealpaca]

#poll #greek letters #alpha man #alpha female #beta sissy #beta boi #sigma #sigma grindset #sigma female #sigma male #gamma #epsilon #omicron #omega #tau #wait those letters i the tags are not in the poll

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Secret Admirer - S.Snape

Summary - Snape had been receiving notes, poems and gifts all year. They were just sitting on his desk waiting for him, he could only speculate who had been putting these things on his desk, until one day, he catches this secret admirer red handed.

Pairings : Severus Snape x Professor!Fem!Reader

Warnings : Female Reader, use of Y/N, not proofread

This is based on this request by @acupnoodle Thank you for the request!

Author's Note : I had a bit of a hard time writing this so please let me know if there was any mistakes or if there was a bit that didn't make sense. I can only become a better writer if I get feedback on how I can improve!!

My requests are open!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

Severus was always curious about who had been leaving little notes and gifts on his desk. Now, he wasn’t complaining, his admirer had brightened his day every single time something was left on his desk. Even the students had taken notice that whenever there was a note or a little wrapped gift on his desk, he’d become happier, chipper even. 

He had no idea who this admirer was and he so desperately wanted to know, he thought he recognized the handwriting but convinced himself that he was delusional. Even one of the students had recognized the handwriting, saying it was Professor Y/L/N’s handwriting. He hoped that it was actually her but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“Professor Snape?” He heard Hermione’s voice from behind him as he was getting himself ready for the lesson.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” He acknowledged the girl, still facing the blackboard.

“Who do you think is leaving you those gifts?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Not even a guess.”

“No. Let’s start the lesson shall we?”

That seemed to be his routine, until one day one of the house elves had delivered a wrapped box with a poem attached in the middle of one of his lessons. He eagerly took the box from the elf, thanking them before sitting at his desk, gently pulling the note off. 

Severus,

I admire watching how passionate you get when you talk about something you like. I admire everything you do, you’re a great man, a great professor and a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.

Love,

Your Admirer

The students watched as a smile spread across the man’s face, color gracing his pale cheeks as his eyes scanned the paper over and over again.

“Are you blushing, professor?” Theodore Nott teased. Severus ignored the teasing as he opened the box carefully. Inside of the box was a signed book from his favorite potioneer, the color on his cheeks darkened even more as he handled the book with care. “Snape is blushing!” Theo pointed out to the class. The girls all giggled at the professor and the boys all let out teasing “oohs”. He quickly shut them up and continued the lesson.

The next day, he had decided out of the blue to go to his classroom early. He heard shuffling around in his room which put him on high alert, he peeked into the room only to find a woman placing something on his desk. When he looked closer, he noticed that it was Y/N Y/L/N, the professor he so desperately hoped was his admirer.

He didn’t understand why she chose him, he was cold and mean, he was unfriendly and sour, so why him? He stood by the door and waited until she turned around. She let out a shriek of fright at seeing the man she was leaving a gift right by the door. “Severus! You scared me!” She gulped. She hadn’t expected him to come to his classroom so early, her heart pounding in her chest.

“You’re my admirer. I should have known that was your handwriting! I second-guessed myself,” He admitted, “I was hoping to catch you one day, ask you on a date but I was too nervous.”

“No need to be nervous Sev. I’d love to go on a date with you!”

The two professors smiled at each other, walking towards one another. “I hoped it was you,” He smiled at her.

“Oh really? And why is that Professor?” She teased as she grabbed his hands.

“Keep it up, darling,” He taunted, a smirk overtaking his smile.

“Keep up what? I’m not doing anything,” She said innocently. He leaned down closer to her, giving her the space to decide if she wanted to lean in or lean back. She, too, leaned in, connecting their lips into a shy and gentle kiss. 

They pulled away for a moment before leaning back, kissing each other with more certainty, more passion. Severus letting go of her hands only to move them to her waist, pulling her body flush to his, her arms wrapping around his neck, hands fiddling with his jet black hair.

The sudden cheers and applause had caused them to jump apart, Y/N accidentally biting his lip in surprise causing it to bleed. “Oh Merlin! I’m sorry! Are you okay?” She rushed out, inspecting his lip. Severus couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping away the blood with his cloak sleeve.

“I’m fine, darling. I promise. You’re going to be late for your class, I’ll see you tonight,” He assured her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before sending her on her way to her classroom. 

The students taking their seats were still cheering and chatting about what they saw as they sat. “Snape is gonna get laid!” Theodore called out causing laughter to spread throughout the class.

“That is not appropriate Mr. Nott. I will be taking 5 points from Slytherin for that comment,” Severus told the boy, taking his own seat at his desk as he settled himself for the lesson. A permanent smile graced his face as he taught his classes throughout the day. Word spreading quickly that the Potions master and the most beloved professor were going on a date later that day. Bets pertaining to when the pair were getting married started even though they hadn’t even had their first date.

The students may not have enjoyed Severus Snape as a professor but they knew that Professor Y/L/N was the best partner for him. They wished nothing but the best for the pair.

Taglist

@bigsimperika

#harry potter #severus snape x reader #pro snape #professor snape #severus snape #snape #snape fanfiction #severus snape imagine #pro severus snape #severus #pro severus #severus x reader #snape community #snape love #request

[97-liners]

out of the frying pan and into your heart

jeon wonwoo x female reader

tags: college au, fraternities, fake dating, misunderstandings, childhood friends to lovers, this all could have been resolved with some proper communication, lots of pining specifically for em, fluff, rom com, best friend minghao, y/n is oblivious!!!

warnings: alcohol, weed, frats, american college setting

words: 9.3k

synopsis:

it starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots.

well, more specifically, for wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when soonyoung and junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells and write in to the school newspaper's love advice columnist about his crush on his childhood best friend.

and for you, the aforementioned childhood best friend and, in secret, also the aforementioned love advice columnist, it starts with cahoots when kim mingyu manages to convince you to fake date him so he can win some popularity contest for his frat.

for @notesof-mh

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It starts, as it always does with this particular collection of friends, with shenanigans and cahoots. 

Well, more specifically, for Wonwoo it starts with shenanigans, when Soonyoung and Junhui somehow manage to collide brain cells. 

He had barely been awake for 15 seconds when they had barged into his room, laptop in hands, just to show him the text in a pink-colored submission box surrounded by heart emojis. Wonwoo squints, the blurry words coming into just enough focus for him to make out what they say. “Dear Cherry, I’m a third year computer science student and I’m in love with my best friend, except I’m— what the hell is this?” 

He glares at Soonyoung who grins cheerfully and points again at the screen. “Read the rest, Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo sighs and continues reading. “Except I’m a huge awkward loser and she’s so cool and pretty, and I don’t know how to tell her I like her. What should I do?”

“Alright, hit send,” Junhui instructs, tilting the laptop away and laughing maniacally. 

Wonwoo pushes his hand across his face, trying his best to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep-addled confusion, and then he realizes what’s happening.

“Wait, you can’t do that,” he tries to protest, but Soonyoung giggles and clicks a button.

“No, this will be good,” Junhui says, plopping down on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed. “Minghao told me that whoever runs the advice column in the school paper is, like, a love guru, and she has four thousand followers on instagram. And she’s never shown her face, but she’s probably also really pretty.”

Wonwoo groans. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Just trust us,” Soonyoung pats Wonwoo’s knee through the blanket, “this is a good idea.”

And for you, it starts with kahoots, when your chemistry lab partner, Mingyu, pulls your stool closer to his side and whispers a proposition to you.

“Do you want to be my fake girlfriend?”

You narrow your eyes at him through your fogged up department-issued safety goggles. “Are you insane? What kind of fumes are you on?”

“None,” Mingyu replies. “I’m Sigma’s nominee for the Greek God award at the inter-fraternity tournament this year and I’m the only nominee who’s single.”

“And so I’m your pick,” you respond flatly. 

Mingyu nods eagerly. His safety glasses slide down his nose, and he has to push them back up. “Yeah, you’re so pretty and cool, I think it’d be really impressive if I somehow managed to pull you.”

“Huh.”

“And,” he adds on, lowering his voice even more, “Jeonghan thinks my only real competition this year is going to be Jung Jaehyun from Nu Kappa Tau, and rumor has it you rejected him in high school. Twice. So I think it’d be pretty funny if we ended up together.”

You scoff and turn back toward the titration in front of you. “You can’t go up to people and ask for things like this.”

“C’mon, you know the winner gets free parking for an entire semester,” he whines. “Ok, how’s this? If you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the Greek God award, I’ll write our lab reports for the rest of the semester.” 

His offer makes you pause, and he jumps on that pause, wedging his way in there. 

“I’ll give you executive editing power, but I’ll do all the work,” he wheedles, “and I’ll give you a perfect peer eval at the end of the semester. I promise,” he puts a big meaty hand on your lab notebook and smears the ink under his fingers. “Kim Mingyu isn’t a liar.”

“I’ll conveniently ignore the fact that you’re lying about having a girlfriend to win this award, then,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s different, though,” he protests, “the award is dumb and meaningless and I really want it. But a promise made between buddies is important.”

He looks earnest, so you decide to lay off on him just a little. “When we’re fake-dating,” you sigh, “you can’t call us buddies anymore.”

“So that’s a…”

You groan, hating yourself for being so indulgent. “Yes. That’s a yes.”

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.

“Hold on Y/N, have you seen this?”

“Seen what?” You look over the top of your laptop screen, where you’re halfway through a paper on the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

Minghao, your co-admin of the school newspaper’s (infamous) advice column turns his screen towards you. “Someone wrote in calling themselves a huge awkward loser.”

“Huh,” you grin to yourself as you read over the message quickly. “That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Of course you think it’s cute,” Minghao rolls his eyes. “I’m going to assign this one over to you.”

“Yeah, sure, but please,” you mutter, “can you be a bit more discreet about it?”

Minghao looks at you over the top of his glasses. “What, about us being Ask Cherry? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it out to be.”

“Be quiet,” you hiss, looking around, “someone could overhear!” You frown, and then quietly, you add on, “and it is embarrassing. I’m supposed to be a journalism major, and I’m here making up horoscopes and giving fake relationship advice three days a week.”

This is an overstatement, and Minghao rolls his eyes. You only make up horoscopes and give fake relationship advice one day a week (Mondays are for Matters Of The Heart, your schedule says). There’s also Am I The Asshole Wednesdays, a campus favorite, and Friday Free-for-alls, when you field confessions of all types. Dear Cherry, I need to get this off my chest. I’ve been using my roommate’s shampoo this whole semester, and today I found out that our two other roommates have also been using this roommate’s shampoo. He doesn’t suspect a thing. 

You hadn’t meant to end up in this position. You write serious pieces for the school newspaper too, reporting on the Student Government’s legislative sessions and the university’s semesterly budget for grants to culturally-centered student organizations. Those articles, you have your name attached to. But at the end of last year, the new editor-in-chief Jeonghan had approached you and convinced (strong-armed) you into becoming the new writer for the infamous advice column, Ask Cherry, since Cherry himself was quitting to make more time for other priorities.

(“And the kicker is,” you had complained to Minghao, “nobody will ever believe me.” Choi Seungcheol, fraternity president, football player, gym rat, jock, fuckboy extraordinaire— relationship advice columnist? No, it’s simply not realistic. 

“I’m sitting on the juiciest piece of gossip to cross my path in my entire life, and I can’t do anything about it,” you say dejectedly.

“Hmm.” Minghao doesn’t even pretend to be interested.)

But, despite your disastrous real-world love life, your clumsily dispensed life advice, and the completely made up horoscopes, Ask Cherry readership skyrocketed under your intrepid watch. Once, you told a reader that the albino squirrel that lives in the tree next to the physics building was a good omen, and the next day, rumor spread that an albino squirrel sighting would grant you an A on your next exam. For weeks after, people would scatter peanuts and pieces of toast by the base of the tree next to the physics building, until campus facilities had to fence the area off because raccoons were starting to show up instead. 

Minghao finding out had been a complete accident, after you had lent him your laptop to print out a paper that was due the next hour, but you had forgotten to minimize the window with your Ask Chrery submissions. Minghao, being someone who loves giving advice, both solicited and unsolicited, naturally joined in on this scheme of yours. 

“Anyways,” you shrug. You look up as Junhui steps into the public study area of the library and scans the tables twice before making eye contact with you, and then waving. “Minghao, did you invite the others over to study with us?”

“Yeah,” Minghao responds, raising an eyebrow at you. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, it’s just—“ you’re about to complain about never being able to focus on your work with the rest of them around, but the words die on your lips when you spot Wonwoo trailing behind Junhui with a bemused expression on his face and a cardboard tray holding bubble teas in his hands. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Hey guys,” you wave over to them, clearing off the table space next to you to make room for them. 

“I brought you a taro milk tea,” Junhui announces, gesturing behind him, “and a Wonwoo to boot.”

“He made me walk with him because he didn’t know your favorite drink,” Wonwoo explains quietly as he slides the drinks onto the table and takes his seat next to you. “Are you working on that international relations paper?”

“Yeah.” You take your taro milk tea. No ice, 50% sweet, tapioca pearls and grass jelly, just the way you like it. 

“Do you think you’ll be done by Friday?”

“I will be free by then,” you promise him, punctuating your statement by stabbing your boba straw through the film covering the cup. You’d rather suffer through an all nighter on Sunday than miss your regular Friday night gaming sessions with Wonwoo, a tradition the two of you have kept up since both of you were in middle school and still playing Starcraft.

“Anyway,” Junhui leans over the table, resting his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. “I have a funny story.”

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo. “Hm?”

“So, you know that advice columnist for the school paper? Wonwoo submitted a question the other day. Well, Soonyoung and I did, but for Wonwoo.”

You feel your blood run cold. It’s not that you’re ashamed of running a love advice column, but it’s more that you’re… embarrassed. And you’ve been running it in secret for so long that at this point, you can’t even fathom anyone outside of Minghao knowing. Maybe when you graduate, you’ll do an identity reveal, but you’re not quite there now.

“Can we talk about literally anything else,” Wonwoo grouses, somewhat to your relief. he glares at Junhui, but the effect is somewhat dampened when he lifts his bubble tea to his mouth and loudly slurps up some tapioca pearls.

“Yeah,” you quickly agree, not eager to have your secret identity exposed.

Junhui steamrolls on ahead, however. “So. If you’re reading the column and there’s a question from someone who has a big stupid crush, you know who it’s from.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Wonwoo? A crush?

“Junhui,” Wonwoo groans, digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed in an expression of exquisite pain. 

Minghao, however, leans forward and lets his glasses slide down his nose. He laces his fingers together. “A crush? On who?”

Junhui and Minghao both turn to stare at Wonwoo, who flushes beet red. 

“Oh, hey guys!”

You feel a heavy arm around your shoulder and turn to see, to your abject horror, Mingyu, who scoots his way onto the bench to squeeze in next to you. “What are you doing here,” you hiss at your oversized interloper, but Mingyu just glances pointedly at the spot two tables down where a bunch of upperclassmen are sitting and chatting. You recognize Choi Seungcheol, the president of Mingyu’s frat, and you sigh and deflate. Fine. A promise is a promise.

You smile weakly at the other three guys sitting at your table. “Surprise,” you say flatly,” Mingyu is my boyfriend now.”

You’re momentarily distracted by a loud honking noise as Junhui narrowly avoids choking on his bubble tea and spraying the table through his nose. 

“Mingyu?!” Minghao sounds simultaneously dismayed and slightly judgemental.

“C’mon, dude,” Mingyu whines, slumping like a kicked puppy. You pat his bicep soothingly. “You don’t have to make it sound that bad.”

Minghao and Junhui share a conspicuous glance. Mingyu isn’t the type of guy you’d usually go for, but you think this reaction is a bit uncalled for. “He’s not that bad,” you find yourself defending your fake boyfriend. “Mingyu is nice, and he’s really tall.”

You blink. Mingyu turns his pout on you now. “Nice and really tall? Are you for real?”

“It’s true,” you scowl at him. “Are you here to study, or did you just come by to get on my nerves?”

“Okay, well,” Junhui interjects sharply, “Wonwoo and I should get going.”

“Wait, but you two just got here,” you attempt to protest, but Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he says to you, before leaving along with Junhui. 

(It’s not until later, when you’re lounging with Minghao in the living room of your shared apartment, that it hits you, again, but this time with its full weight.

“Wonwoo likes someone,” you say out loud. It’s not a question.

Minghao glances up form his book at you with a frown plastered across his face, his brows creased with irritation. He evaluates you carefully over the silver rims of his glasses, which you know aren’t prescription but are mainly there to make him look elegant and intellectual.

“...yes,” he finally acknowledges.

You frown despite yourself. “I wonder who it is.”

“What does it matter to you,” Minghao scoffs, “you’re dating Mingyu, remember?”

“You can pretend to hate Gyu, but I know you like him better than any of the rest of us.” You really hadn’t been expecting to defend Mingyu twice in a day, but you suppose that’s life as Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend. “And anyways, Wonwoo and I have been friends since we were kids. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me earlier.”

“Yeah, he probably can’t believe it either,” Minghao mutters under his breath so quietly, you almost miss it. Then, in a louder voice, he chides, “don’t think too much about it, yeah? You still have to reply professionally to his advice request. His anonymous advice request.”

“Right,” you sigh dejectedly, frowning at your laptop balanced across your knees. “How do I tell him that he’s not a nerd and a loser without giving away that I know who he is?”

Minghao shrugs. “Maybe tell him to be patient. Or maybe tell him to try to start getting over his crush.”

You consider his suggestion for a moment. It’s appealing, but then the thought of Wonwoo wasting away in his dark bedroom, sighing as he pines over his unrequited love, flashes across your mind. “I just don’t want him to be sad.”)

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“C’mon, he was right on top of you,” Wonwoo complains. You can hear the creaking of his gaming chair in the background, undoubtedly as he rises from his reclined position to gulp down more of whatever energy drink he has in his mini fridge this week. You groan and dig your fingers into the junction between your neck and shoulder, trying with little success to work out the knot that’s developed over this last round of PUBG.

“Wonwoo, that’s the problem, I suck at close range,” you huff in response, “you know I get panicky and forget to turn off auto-fire.”

It’s game night, and you and Wonwoo have been at it for the past two hours. Your paper isn’t done yet, but it can wait. It’s been over a decade since the years when the two of you would spend your summers together playing video games and walking aimlessly around the neighborhood with half-melted popsicles, talking for hours. But even as your social circles diverted from his, it’s always been something of an unspoken agreement that for this, you’d always make time for Wonwoo, and he’d always make time for you.

“Another round?” You and Wonwoo both ask the question at the same time. There’s a pause, and then you’re both laughing. Even over the headset mic, Wonwoo’s laugh is loud and unrestrained. It feels like a secret, a side of Wonwoo that he saves just for you and for Friday nights spent on opposite sides of the monitor.

“So.” You’re still waiting for the next match to start when Wonwoo breaks the comfortable silence. “Mingyu?”

You fidget at the ties of your hoodie. It’s stolen from Wonwoo, and you’ve had it since middle school at least. “Yeah?”

“Interesting choice.”

“What does that mean?”

He makes a casual, noncommittal noise. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t see it coming, and you didn’t tell me about it.”

You open your mouth to tell him that it’s actually all a ruse, to explain the whole situation, but the hard, petulant edge to his voice makes you pause. Wonwoo sounds… upset. But not quite upset. Jealous?

“Wonwoo,” you laugh. Onscreen, the timer counting down to the start of the match appears, and you jam on the space bar to make your character jump over his character’s prone body. “Wonwoo, are you jealous?”

Over your headphones, you hear the sound of his gaming chair squeaking. “I’m not jealous,” he says, in a tone of voice that sounds exactly like Wonwoo when he’s jealous. 

“You are. Where are we landing?” You toggle to the map in the game and zoom in on the path that the plane is taking. The player count in the bottom starts dropping as other players jump out. 

“Blue marker, does that look good to you? There’s a few houses we can loot, and it’s not close to the flight path. If we get bad circle placement, you can shoot me in the foot, if you want. As a treat.”

“Yeah, fine. Lead the way, boss. Anyways, why are you jealous?” You suppress the flutter in your chest. There’s no reason for you to get your hopes up. 

“You’re my friend,” Wonwoo says simply. It feels like a heavy towel being thrown over you. “You used to tell me everything. Mingyu is… fine,” he admits reluctantly. “He’s a good guy. I’m happy for you.”

Your heart clenches. You want to say something soft and sincere, but instead, you return with a jab. “You can’t be upset at me for keeping secrets, Wonwoo. What was Junhui saying about you liking someone?”

“Junhui just says stuff sometimes,” he replies curtly. 

You frown. “Junhui isn’t a liar, though. Who is it?” You ask, despite everything in you telling yourself that you don’t want to know the answer. “Who are they? Maybe I can talk to them for you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “It doesn’t matter. She’s in a relationship with someone else.”

You almost sigh in relief, but you stop yourself just in time. Why are you relieved? “Oh, Wonwoo. That sucks. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

Wonwoo makes a noise that tells you he’s shrugging. “She deserves better than me.”

“Hey!” You sit up, straightening your spine in indignation. “Don’t say that. You’re great, Wonwoo. You’re criminally underappreciated. You’re smart and you’re so sincere and kind, and maybe other people don’t acknowledge it, but you’re really funny and interesting.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and the only thing you hear is the game audio as your character collects supplies and clears the building the two of you are in. “Let me know if you find any gun that’s not a pistol, by the way. I have a 2x scope on me.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. You know he’s not talking about the scope.

Even though the two of you are gaming individually in your own rooms, you want nothing more than to tug off your headphones and go down the two flights of stairs to Wonwoo’s apartment and give him a hug.

“I have an AKM and a bunch of healing items on me,” Wonwoo says, “come to me and you can have whatever you want.”

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It would have been much less embarrassing if you had realized it last week when you were walking to class and Wonwoo had stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk to pluck a fallen leaf from your hair with that stupidly fond expression plastered on his face; or maybe when you accidentally fell asleep in his bed during an afternoon study session and woke up later with your head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, the sound of his soft snoring puffing in your ear, his hand held loosely in yours. Maybe in another life, it would have been one of those soft, romantic moments, like something out of a coming of age anime. But no, because you’re you and your life is the way it is, the moment you realize you’re in love with Wonwoo goes like this:

It’s Sunday, noon already, and you’re in Wonwoo’s shared apartment. Junhui had let you in earlier when you had knocked at their door until your knuckles were sore. When you burst unceremoniously into Wonwoo’s bedroom, he’s still asleep with his glasses on, smudged and crooked, and his phone on his chest. You frown. “Wake up, Wonwoo. Did you fall asleep while watching dramas again?”

Wonwoo jumps slightly and lifts his head, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

“You said you’d go to lunch with me.” You extend your arms and spin to show off your cute, perfectly coordinated outfit, picked out specifically to match the instagram trap you’re going to. You even broke out the eyeliner and glitter eyeshadow to match the cute knit cardigan and wool miniskirt you put on. “What hat should I wear? The fuzzy bucket hat,” you hold up option one, “or the beret,” you hold up option two, looking down at Wonwoo expectantly.

Your best friend groans and collapses back onto the bed, eyes sliding shut. “Um. The beret.”

“Okay great, now get out of bed. Our reservation is soon and you still need to wash your face and get dressed.” You poke at his cheek, which is greasy from sleep and still bears the imprint of his pillow. 

“Can you get Minghao to go with you instead?” He doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Nope,” you respond, popping the ‘p’, “he has dance practice.”

“Mingyu?”

“He said he had a textile arts club meeting?” You frown. “I’m not sure what it is, but he’s been crocheting like crazy for it this week.”

“Um,” Wonwoo smacks his hand over his face, clearly trying to think of other options. He forgets, however, that he fell asleep with his glasses on, and ends up jamming the frames against this cheek. “Ow. Ok, what about, uh, Seokmin?”

You pout at him even though he can’t see it. “Wonu,” you whine, sitting down on his bed, “I want to go to lunch with you, though.”

At that, he finally cracks his eyes open. “Why?”

Because, you want to say, I don’t want to do this with anybody other than you. You briefly try to imagine doing this whole thing– dressing up, making a reservation, taking pictures and walking around town, huddling together in a cafe in the afternoon to watch the latest Nintendo Direct together– with anybody else, but you just quite settle on it comfortably. No. It has to be Wonwoo. Because Wonwoo is your best friend, because Wonwoo has always been there for you, because Wonwoo just gets you, better than anybody ever has, and every moment you spend with Wonwoo, you feel your mood lifting and relaxing. Because you trust Wonwoo and he trusts you, and because you know him, and you love him–

You love him.

Oh.

Oh.

You’ll have to process that later. “Because you have a car and you can drive me,” you tell Wonwoo instead, shoving the revelation down to the back of your mind and putting it in a box labeled problems for future me.

“Fine,” Wonwoo acquiesces, sitting up with enormous effort. His hair is still sticking up in all directions, making him look like a big dark dandelion. A part of you expects to see him in a different light, now that you think you love him, like there’s supposed to be cherubs singing and starlight in his eyes or something, but instead, you just see regular old Wonwoo. Your best friend. He doesn’t suddenly look like a vision sent from heaven, he just looks sleepy and crusty and a little greasy.

“Hurry up and brush your teeth,” you tell him, slapping him lightly on his belly and laughing at the resulting ouuff that jerks out of him, “you have morning breath and I can smell it from here.”

.

.

.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Re: advice

Dear Cherry, my friend is in love with his childhood friend but she doesn’t love him back :( how do we make her fall in love with him? from anonymous

“Hm,” you sigh out loud, “I wonder if Soonyoung knows that the anonymous signoff is made moot by the fact that he emailed this one in instead of using the anonymous submission box.” You’re draped on the couch with your legs propped all the way up and your laptop on your chest as you scroll through this week’s Am I The Asshole Wednesday submissions.

“You can ignore him,” Minghao says, passing by with a full bottle of wine in each hand on his way to put them away in the kitchen. “I don’t think you should be giving any love advice when your own love life is a mess,” he sniffs. 

“You’re the asshole,” you announce, not looking up from your screen. “That was for you, Minghao.” Clearly, he’s still mad at you after you had revealed the whole Mingyu situation to him a few nights ago. You still remember the blistering look that Minghao had thrown at you, like you’re the dumbest human he’s ever had the supreme displeasure of knowing.

“I guess you don’t want to go to the dance team party with me, then,” your roommate responds smoothly, returning from the kitchen. It’s only 6pm, but Minghao is already dressed in a silk pajama set with a matching robe, lenseless glasses frames perched on the tip of his nose, smelling of strawberry-scented lotion as he pours himself a glass of wine.

You scowl at him.  “Fine. I don’t care.” Turning back to your laptop, you scroll past a few more boring submissions on your hunt for the truly salacious stuff your classmates get up to. “I wonder what Soonyoung is even talking about, though,” you mumble, half to yourself, as you click on the next interesting subject line.

.

.

.

In retrospect, Mingyu was definitely going to win that Greek God competition, even if Jaehyun from Nu Kapp put up a good fight.

Mingyu’s physique is certainly impressive, and the audience erupted when he won the (shirtless and oiled-up, for some reason) pushup contest, but his clumsiness eventually led him to lose at every other physical challenge. It was his overwhelming victory in the popularity vote and personality contest that got him to first place. It’s probably all because of his unwavering friendliness and his constant need for affirmation manifesting into an overwhelming desire to be helpful, but you like to think that maybe you helped too.

That’s why you’re here, in the kitchen of the Sigma house, absolutely wasted at the celebration party the frat is throwing in honor of Mingyu being crowned the best frat star on campus. Between the blunt that you, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin, another friend in your year, had passed around upstairs, and all the shots that Mingyu had plied you with, you’re feeling weirdly bouncy and giggly and not entirely sure if you’ll remember this the next morning.

“Okay, so,” Mingyu mumbles, pulling you closer as the two of you nestle in a corner, away from whatever is going on at the beer pong table, “we should stage a breakup, right?”

You giggle against the hollow of his throat, arms looped over his shoulders. “Can we make it your fault?”

He whines like a kicked puppy. “Why can’t we make it mutual? Jeonghan would kick my ass.”

“Fine, fine,” you huff, not at all reluctant. “We should give it some time so it’s not suspicious, right?”

“Yeah.” Mingyu nods, accidentally knocking his chin against your forehead. “You’re so smart.”

“Which means I’m still on girlfriend duty tonight,” you conclude.

“Oh, come on.” Mingyu’s hands come down to rest at your waist, his fingertips skimming along the waistband of your skirt, eliciting a shiver from you when you feel his rough, warm skin against yours. “You make it sound like a chore.”

You sigh. Oh well, you could do much worse than Mingyu.

You’re not sure if it’s the weed or the alcohol, or maybe just jealousy at this fake version of yourself that’s happy with a boyfriend and not moping over an unrequited crush on your childhood best friend, but you find it strangely easy to lean up and attach your lips to Mingyu’s, feel the wet heat of his tongue in your mouth. and Mingyu, pliant under your grip as always, kisses you back, going along with it without a second thought.

“No offense,” he pants as he parts from you, “but I don’t think I want to hook up with you.”

You blink at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no,” he clarifies quickly, “you’re a good kisser, I just don’t want things to be weird between us, which I think might happen if we hook up.”

“If fake dating didn’t make things weird, I’m not sure that hooking up would,” you laugh, more of a giggle than anything. You attach your lips to his jaw, pulling him down towards you so you don’t have to crane your neck. 

“And also,” he nudges at the hair behind your ear with his nose, “you’re like, totally wasted right now.”

“You’re not sober either,” you shoot back, accusatory.

“More sober than you,” he shoots back. He’s right, though. His large stature means that he can hold his liquor much better than you. “It wouldn’t be fair,” he pouts, stubborn, “and I’m not a creep.”

“Fine.” You tug lightly at the short hairs on the back of his head. 

“Are… are you okay?”

Mingyu’s question makes you hesitate for a moment. You lean your flushed cheek against the jut of his collarbone. “I’m drunk,” you respond flatly.

“No, not that, you’re just usually not this…” you feel Mingyu gulp, “clingy.”

You wonder if you should tell him about Wonwoo and your stupid pointless crush that’s starting to feel less like a crush every time you’re with him and more like… something deeper. Something frightening, like a yawning chasm, just waiting for you to fall in.

You’re saved the effort of further deliberation, however, when Mingyu suddenly raises his head and interrupts your thoughts. “Hey, isn’t that Wonwoo?”

You lift yourself off of Mingyu’s chest and look behind you. True to his word, it really is Wonwoo, standing by the door, jacket on, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Huh, he doesn’t usually come to these,” Mingyu observes, tugging idly at the bottom of your shirt. “I wonder why he’s here.”

You think you know why he’s here, though. Earlier, back upstairs, you had excused yourself to the bathroom to take a quick breather. Through an alcohol and weed induced haze, you had belatedly realized that it’s Friday night, and you’re late.

you: cn you come pick me u you: at sigma wonu: are you ok? i’ll be there in a few you: sry im drunk you: wanna go home w u

Now, staring Wonwoo dead in the eyes, you realize with a jolt that you had never told him why you asked him to pick you up. You peel yourself off your fake boyfriend and stumble, clumsily, towards Wonwoo, trying your best to ignore the way the room spins around you.

“Wonu,” you whine reaching out to him.

He frowns. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’m drunk,” you tell him.

“I know.” He extends his arm and lets you cling on to him as you stumble into his torso.

“And it’s Friday night,” you look up at him.

“Yes.”

“We’re supposed to be playing Overwatch together.” You give him the best puppy eyes you can muster, and he blinks at you, looking flustered.

“Huh?”

“Overwatch,” you insist, tugging him towards the door. “Friday night. It’s Wonwoo and Y/N night.”

“Is… is this what you called me over here for?”

You nod and begin dragging Wonwoo out by the wrist. 

The cool air outside hits your flushed skin like a wave, like you’re jumping into a pool. Wonwoo is silent and lets you continue to cling onto him as he walks you to where he had parked on the side of the street, directly under a streetlight.

You slide into the passenger seat. Wonwoo hands you a bottle of water, cap already removed for you. “Hydrate,” he orders. 

“Sorry,” you whimper, somewhat pathetically.

He frowns. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I must be so annoying,” you mumble, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“No,” Wonwoo reaches out and takes your hand over the center console. “You’re not annoying.”

You watch him as he drives. He’s so handsome, your alcohol-addled mind supplies. 

“You don’t think I’m annoying?”

“Never.”

Wonwoo says it like a promise.

Silence falls over the two of you as he drives through campus, all the way back to the student housing unit that both of you live in. He turns off the engine, leaving a silence that feels even more all-encompassing. He looks over at you, face half hidden in the shadows and half illuminated by the orange lamplight outside. “Is Minghao home?”

“N…no, he’s back at the party.”

“Okay, we’re going back to my apartment, then,” he decides.

You blink. “Huh?” But you’re already stumbling out of his car and spilling onto the sidewalk, all wobbly legs and loose limbs. 

“I’m taking you back to my place,” Wonwoo repeats. “You need someone to watch you and make sure you don’t wander off and get lost in the city,” he explains drily.

“‘M okay,” you whine futilely. It’s especially unconvincing, since you’re still stumbling over your own feet and leaning against him. 

Wonwoo lets you rest your cheek on his shoulder and cling onto him as he lets you into his apartment, gets you a glass of water, and digs up a pack of makeup wipes from out of nowhere and sits you on his bed and starts to get to work. 

A small (very drunk) part of you bristles at the appearance of the makeup wipes, and you try to scowl, even as Wonwoo gently wipes at your smudged eyeliner. “Whose are these? Do you have a lot of girls over here or something?”

“They’re Junhui’s, he uses them,” Wonwoo explains. He dabs at one last spot in the corner of your right eye, then announces, “there, you’re all done.”

You open your eyes to see Wonwoo grinning dopily at you. “You’re cute,” you poke at his cheek, and he laughs quietly. Seokmin used to be afraid of him, he had confessed to you, and you wonder why, because the Wonwoo you know is so soft, so loveable, so goofy and cute. 

The Wonwoo you know is shy and awkward and doesn’t quite know how to fit himself into social situations. He’s clumsy and absentminded and needs someone to take care of him, to dote on him and give him attention.

The Wonwoo that you know, you’ve known since you were in second grade, standing over the boy you had knocked over with a rubber kickball, staring at him as he sniffled on the woodchips and glared at you through big watery eyes. That day, you decided right then and there that this boy would be yours, and now…

“Wonwoo,” you blurt out without thinking, “I’m in love with you.”

His breath catches. Wonwoo pauses, digesting your clumsily delivered confession, and then he makes the most awful expression you have ever seen on him.

It’s raw hurt, sharp, painful. His mouth twists and his brows furrow and he looks at you like you’re something to be afraid of. You hate it. You hate that you’re the cause of it, that he’s feeling this, whatever it is, because of you, even though you’re not sure why.

“Really,” you insist. You reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls away from you. “It’s true. I’m in love with you.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not,” he says. “You’re in love with Mingyu. You’re happy with him.”

“I’m not… I’m not in love with him,” you try to explain, but your liquor-numbed lips are clumsy and you trip over your words. You lean towards him, slanting your face up, because you want to kiss him so badly it’s all you can think of. Wonwoo shoves you back, hard. 

“Don’t,” he bites, voice sharp and tense.

“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, reaching out to him, but he pushes your hand back and steps away. Like he’s afraid of you.

“Don’t do it. You’re drunk.” His voice wavers slightly. “Don’t do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

You shake your head, but Wonwoo looks at you with so much hurt and confusion in his eyes, you can’t bring yourself to argue. “Wonu,” you whisper, reaching out to rest your fingertips on his wrist, “please don’t cry.”

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes closed, and then when he exhales and opens his eyes again, his expression is impassive. Unreadable.

“Go to sleep,” he says flatly. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up and go back to your boyfriend, and you’ll be happy that nothing happened tonight.”

He closes the door to his bedroom, leaving you in the darkness.

(Wonwoo is cold.

He’s always a little cold, but in his haste to escape earlier, he hadn’t gotten a blanket or even changed into sweats before closing the door behind him, and now Wonwoo lays on the couch, his feet hanging over the armrest, staring at the ceiling. 

I’m in love with you, your voice rings in his head. Wonwoo’s cheek still burns where you had gently rested your hand earlier. If he hadn’t known any better, Wonwoo might have believed you and given in to his most guilty, far-off fantasy, the one where you love him back.

But Wonwoo does know better. He saw the way you were draped all over Mingyu at the party, the way you giggled into his neck when Mingyu slipped his fingertips under the him of your shirt. Mingyu is good for you, Wonwoo decides. Like you, Mingyu is bright and out-going, popular, well-liked, good at receiving love and gives it readily in return. 

Wonwoo closes his eyes, tries to push away the memory of your body curled into his, and wills his mind into silence so that maybe he can get some sleep tonight.)

You wake up, nauseous and hung over and feeling not at all rested, in Wonwoo’s bed.

Groaning, you swipe at your face, expecting to see a gloopy mess on your fingers, but your makeup has already been removed. You squint at the dim sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds, and you reach around blindly until your fingers close around your phone. 

There’s a smattering of random social media notifications and updates from group chats, but one notification in particular catches your eye.

wonu: i’m outside wonu: where are you? are you ok? wonu: i’m gonna head inside to look for you

You feel your cheeks flush as the memories come trickling back– your drunk texts, insisting that your best friend picks you up, kissing Mingyu, leaving the party with Wonwoo, clinging on to him like a koala…

Gathering your courage and steeling your woozy stomach, you stumble out of bed and throw open the door, poking your head out. Wonwoo is sprawled across the couch, undoubtedly playing some kind of mobile game, when he looks up at you. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and his shirt is crumpled. “Hi,” he says, expression impossibly neutral.

“Hi,” you grin, waving lamely. “I feel like shit. I didn’t say anything weird or embarrassing last night, did I?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You don’t remember?”

You shake your head. “I remember you picking me up from the frat, I think.”

For a split second, he looks relieved. Then, he puts his phone down and laughs at you. “You didn’t do anything embarrassing,” he grins, “except for abandoning your boyfriend at the party because you wanted to play Overwatch with me. C’mon, do you want to get brunch?”

You press your palms against your throbbing forehead. Your brain hurts, and you’re almost sure you half-remember telling Wonwoo that you’re in love with him, but Wonwoo is looking at you expectantly and you’d like nothing more than some french toast and a hot coffee right now, so you shrug. “Sure, lemme wash up and get changed in my apartment first.”

.

.

.

“Dear Cherry, my friend is hopelessly in love with his childhood best friend, who is currently dating a hot frat dude. Should he just give up? The moping is starting to bum me out and I’m worried my hair is going to fall out. Love, Wen Junhui.”

You wrinkle your nose at the message. “And has anybody ever told Junhui that the whole point of anonymous submissions is defeated when he signs his messages with his full name?”

Minghao looks up from the canvas he’s busy splattering paint on. It’s his semester final project, and you had promised to accompany him in the basement of the fine arts building as he works.

Instead of answering, he looks at you like you’re the densest human he’s ever had the misfortune of meeting. “Maybe he’s not trying to be anonymous. Maybe he’s trying to complain about someone we know.”

You squint at your laptop screen. “Who is this supposed to be about, anyways?”

This time, Minghao actually rolls his eyes at you. “Whatever. Have you broken up with Mingyu yet?”

“Yeah, we broke up two days ago. It was mutual, because Mingyu was genuinely afraid that Jeonghan would kick his ass if we said we broke up with me.”

The two of you had made a whole show of deleting all your carefully staged couple photos off your social media accounts, and then unfollowing and refollowing each other within the span of two days, because as the story goes, you and Mingyu had talked it over and are better as friends than as a couple.

“That’s nice,” Minghao says. He unscrews a jar of turpentine and starts to clean off his brushes. “Maybe you should respond to Junhui’s advice submission.”

You groan. “I’ll just tell him to tell his friend to get over it,” you scowl.

“By the way, what’s wrong with Wonwoo?”

“What do you mean?” You look up. Minghao is now attacking the canvas with a palette knife, carving some dramatic impasto into the paint.

“The last two times all of us hung out together, he’s been all…weird.” Minghao wrinkles his nose. “It’s like he’s some kind of guilty dog. He stares at you when you’re not looking, and then he looks away when you are.”

You chew on your lip, work now long forgotten on your idle laptop. Minghao is right. Wonwoo has been different, but not… different. He’s as unwaveringly weird as always, and he’s been texting you links to youtube cat videos and starting arguments on video game theories as always, but it feels like Wonwoo has been aggressively normal. Like how best friends are supposed to be. Light and easy.

“I don’t know. I feel like he’s been acting weird these days too, but I can’t figure out how.”

“You should talk to him,” Minghao says, like talking to Wonwoo about his feelings is easy or something. Or like talking about your own feelings is easy.  

“Or maybe I shouldn’t,” you sigh. Whatever is going on with Wonwoo, you’re just glad he still wants to hang out with you. You’re not entirely sure what you even did wrong, but you’d be willing to beg on your hands and knees for him to forgive you and to stick by your side. “Whatever. We’re gaming together this Friday, I’ll think about it then, I guess.”

.

.

.

“Wonu, I’m scared,” you whine into the mic. It’s another Friday night and the two of you are playing PUBG again. You’re in the endgame now– the original 100 has been whittled down to just 5 players remaining, including you but not including Wonwoo, who had been killed earlier and is now spectating you in-game like some sort of ghost. 

“Just sit tight,” he instructs. In your mind’s eye, he’s leaning back in his gaming chair, arms crossed as he observes your gameplay. 

“There’s gunshots,” you complain, “North? I think they’re hiding by those rocks. It sounds like they’ve got a good sniper rifle, too.”

“They don’t know you’re there. Just let the other teams fight it out. You have enough ammo?”

You huff. “I have like, twelve shotgun shells.”

“And you have the location advantage. Just sit and wait for now.”

You sigh, aimlessly panning the camera back and forth in your anxiety. “Fine,” you agree, because despite it all, Wonwoo is still better at this game than you are, and because you trust him. 

Seconds pass. The audio of distant gunfire in crisp surround sound keeps you on edge and tense, so that when you hear Soonyoung, one of Wonwoo’s roommates, you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies. His voice is tinny and quiet, but still clear, like he’s slipped his headset off and mic is pushed away. “I’m gaming with Y/N. I’m muted, don’t worry.”

You’re about to shout and let him know that he’s not actually muted, but your curiosity gets the better of you when you hear Soonyoung’s next words:

“Right, speaking of Y/N, that reminds me. Did you hear that Y/N and Mingyu broke up?”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and then you hear Wonwoo ask, “why?”

“Dunno. Mingyu wouldn’t give me any details. He said something lame, like that they’re better off as friends, or something.”

“Oh. When did this happen?”

“I think on Wednesday? At least that’s what Seungkwan told me.”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, isn’t that great? You can finally shoot your shot!”

“Are you insane, Soonyoung? It’s been less than a week!”

“Well, okay, fair. But next week? She didn’t seem too sad about it in class today.”

“That’s because she was in class. And anyways, this doesn’t change anything between us, so I’m not going to do anything either.”

“Are you kidding me? So you’re just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“Yeah. I’ll die before I tell Y/N that I’m in love with her.”

Oh.

You sit at your desk, staring at your monitor but not seeing anything. Very quietly, you press your fingers against your lips, as hard as you can, and feel the blood rushing past your ears. 

“I’m not going to ruin our friendship over nothing,” Wonwoo continues.

“It’s not nothing,” Soonyoung replies with a pout in his voice. “You’ve been in love with her for years. Since high school, at least.”

“She just sees me as a friend, that’s all,” Wonwoo sighs. 

Since high school. He’s loved you since high school.

You remember the way he looked at you after prom when he was dropping you back off at home. You had gone with him because the boy you wanted to ask you, some boring soccer player, had asked your friend instead, and Jaehyun had already asked (and been rejected by you) twice, and nobody else had asked you to be their prom date. And Wonwoo, awkward and quiet as he was, had fully expected to skip prom completely, but three days before you had shown up at his locker after school, desperate because you already had a dress and a group to go with and tickets but no date, practically begging him to go to prom with you. And without even thinking, Wonwoo had agreed.

That night, when he drive you home, you leaned your head against the car door with the windows rolled down and felt the wind on your face. At the end, when he parked his car on the side of the street in front of your childhood home, you looked over at him and told him. “I’m so glad we’re going to college together, Wonwoo. I want to be with you forever.”

And he had watched you as you said it, quiet, like he was breathless. Like you had said something terrible and incredible at the same time. 

It’s always been Wonwoo beside you, lazy summers spent playing video games, late night phone calls where you’d talk and he’d listen, after class in his car listening to the radio and eating junk food. Had he loved you then? With ketchup on your shirt and acne across your face and poorly box-dyed hair? And had you loved him then too? Before you even knew what love is?

The weight of it is heavy, settling in your stomach like a hot stone. It almost hurts, how much you feel.

You’re interrupted by a very loud spate of gunfire piercing your eardrums and making you jump,  shrieking loudly as you’re killed in-game. Onscreen, your bloodied character rolls limply down the hill as “Better luck next time! #2/48” flashes on top of your game stats.

“Aw, second place, so close,” you hear Wonwoo say. Then he pauses. “Wait. Was I not muted just now?”

“Wonwoo, I’m going downstairs,” you tell him.

“Wait–” his voice is tight and panicked, but you’re already tugging your headset off and grabbing your keys.

You nearly avoid tripping over your feet as you run to the stairwell at the end of the hall and fly down the two flights of stairs, to where Wonwoo is. By the time you’re banging at their door, you’re out of breath and flushed. You’re not sure if the pounding of your heart is from the exertion or if it’s from something else. Anxiety, maybe. Fear. Exhilaration.

Wonwoo answers the door. He looks exactly like you’d expect, with his rumpled tee shirt and sweatpants and bare feet, his glasses on and his bangs pushed back with the bunny shower headband you bought for him last year.

“Hi,” you grin breathlessly at him.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Can I come in?”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling his nerves. “Yeah.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let you in, and you follow Wonwoo to his room.

It’s dimly lit with the rainbow glow of his gaming setup and the ready screen for PUBG still up on one of his monitors. Wonwoo flicks on the overhead light, which throws the room into sharp relief. The sudden brightness makes everything feel more real, somehow. 

You sit on the edge of Wonwoo’s bed and pat the spot net to you, which he takes. “Wonwoo,” you say.

Wonwoo purses his lips. “How much of that did you hear earlier?”

“All of it,” you chew the inside of your cheek, drumming your fingers against the bedspread. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “You can pretend I didn’t say any of that.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Huh?” He stares at you with wide eyes.

“What you said earlier.” You pick at a loose thread poking from the hem of your shirt. “Did you mean it when you said you’re in love with me?”

He hesitates, frowning as a conflicted expression briefly flashes across his face, eyebrows drawing together. 

“Wonwoo?” You call his name gently to get his attention. “I’m in love with you too, Wonwoo.”

“I–what?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’ve brown another head. “But, you...  Mingyu?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Mingyu? Didn’t I tell you? We were just faking so he could win that Greek God competition and get free parking next semester.”

“Wait,” he sputters, “so all of that was fake? You were just pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Yeah. I don’t care about Mingyu, I have feelings for you, Wonwoo.”

“You.” Wonwoo takes a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I did!” You widen your eyes, adamant. “At karaoke back in October. You, me, Minghao, and Junhui?” It had been after a particularly grueling set of midterms, and the four of you had gone out for some korean barbeque, followed by boba and an extended noraebang session. While Junhui was crooning to an old Cantonese ballad, you were squished on a couch with Minghao and Wonwoo, and the three of you were talking idly about Junhui’s most recent date.

It’s funny, you remember turning and mumbling to Wonwoo, did I ever tell you that Mingyu and I are faking our whole relationship for clout? But Wonwoo hadn’t responded, so you assumed that he didn’t care. Now, it’s looking more like he didn’t even hear you.

“I was asleep,” Wonwoo states in flat disbelief.

“You were asleep,” you repeat slowly.

“It was dark and I was tired. You didn’t notice that I passed out as soon as we dimmed the lights?” He raises his eyebrows as he defends himself, and you bury your face in your hands.

Click. The pieces are all falling in place.

“Wonwoo. I’m so dumb,” you moan. “I run the Ask Cherry column. All those messages from Junhui and Soonyoung. They were about you, weren’t they?”

“Messages? There were more after the first one?!”

“And they were about you being in love with me,” you recall. “This whole time, I thought you liked someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

There’s a pause. You can hear the sound of Wonwoo’s PC whirring in the background. And then, Wonwoo starts laughing, choked and quiet at first, and then loud, incredulous, almost.

“God,” he gasps between laughs, “we’re both so, so stupid.” And then you’re laughing too.

In retrospect, it’s all ridiculous, this entire situation. You collapse back onto Wonwoo’s bed and laugh until your ribs hurt, and when you turn your head to the side, there’s Wonwoo laying beside you, glasses askew, grinning.

You giggle and reach out to straighten his glasses. “Hi,” you say to him.

“Hi,” he says back, getting up to lean on one elbow. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You feel your smile widen so much, your cheeks hurt. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He looks at you with so much fondness, it takes your breath away. It’s the way he’s always looked at you, you realize, since the two of you weren’t much more than a pair of kids.

“So, now what?”

“Hmm.” You pretend to think. “Can you kiss me about it, then?”

Wonwoo nods, and his hair flops over the bunny headband as he moves his head. “Yeah,” he says, “I think I can do that.”

.

.

.

(Afterwards, a lot less changes with your relationship with Wonwoo than you thought. After all, he was your best friend for much, much longer than he’s been your boyfriend. He still sends you cat videos at strange hours of the night, and he still sticks sullenly by your side during social outings. Friday nights are still game nights, of course, but now it’s mostly spent on your shared Stardew Valley co-op or cuddling in bed while playing Pokemon together. 

But one thing that changes is the kisses. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you can, because you have so much love to give him and not enough time in the day to tell him all the ways you love him. You try, though, to tell him every moment you can that he’s the cutest, smartest, sweetest, kindest, funniest boy in the world, and that he’s the best friend and boyfriend you could ever ask for.

Wonwoo has a harder time with his feelings, but you know, even without saying. It’s in the way that his fingers linger over your hand when he drops you off in front of your classroom, and the way he gives you first pick on all the best loot when you’re gaming together. And when it’s really late at night and the two of you are huddled under the blankets together, listening to the way your heartbeats collide, he whispers it too. “I love you.”

And, Minghao finally admits it. “Fine,” he grumbles reluctantly while the two of you are preparing the upcoming edition of Ask Cherry, “maybe you’re qualified to give love advice after all.”)

#2022svtgiftexchange #wonwoo #seventeen #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fluff #97.yn #97.writings

[armouredgoblin]

In regards to my previous post about Fem Custodes

I have a few points to make If I made you mad. That's not my problem. I still hold the opinion that they should not be a thing due to 30+ years of lore stating that they have always been men. I have heard a few arguments.

"Its always been political"

Well yes but actually no. Internally it has its own set of politics depending on which faction you look at. You can have politics that are separate to the real world. A good example of that outside of the Warhammer Universe is Helldivers.

Helldivers developers Arrowhead decided that they would not put anything that would represent the real world beyond the fact that humans exist. They rejected putting things such as rainbow capes and country based capes because it would take away from the actual internal lore and would cause division in the community.

The people that want these things tend forced into the media/lore to be the people who wont actually play it because they never wanted it in the first place.

"Its just a small change what's the harm?"

Its a step. One small step towards creating female space marines. If you can make custodes gene seeds work in woman; then you can make the space marine ones work in them too because who cares any more?.

Its an active attempt at slowly moving the Warhammer universe and turning it into the grey sludge that only appeals to the "Modern Audience" filled with the political messages that only goes one way.

I wanted to enjoy the lore as an experience separate to my own existence. I want to use this as an escape of this work but I am seeing it slowly being infiltrated and ruining the immersion.

"There isn't enough representation in Warhammer40k"

Who the fuck wants to be represented in the universe that is basically one constant war. Were the standard imperial guardsmen (of which contain both genders) eat what is called "corpse starch".

To be fair in the spotlight there is mostly the Space Marines which is an all male team of genetically altered super humans (the Custodes are further up that chain and are seen as even more powerful than the average Space Marine). Space Marines are barely recognisable as humans due to the effect of the gene seed.

However if people actually looked they would find there is plenty of representation within Warhammer40k. There are many factions outside of the Space Marines that have both female and males on the frontlines of this eternal war.

Factions: Eldar (Male and Female) Dark Eldar (Male and female) Imperial Guardsmen (As mentioned before) Sisters of Battle (All female) Sisters of Silence (All female) Not sure about them: Tau: I know they take from many species and I am not so sure what they have on the male and female ratio.

Errm: Tyranids: Alien bug species, fuck knows what they have. Chaos: They will defiantly have both, Slannesh will torture fuck you all.

Speaking of Slannesh While often referred as male, he actually can be both and neither.

"GW can do what they wish with their IP"

Yes. There is not much to argue with there. They could even pull a Disney Star Wars and state that everything from the next codex is now the true canon and everything before it no longer exists. In my opinion this would be stupid.

"Warhammer40k is for everyone"

Is it tho? You seem to be ready to throw out many people who don't immediately agree with you.

No media in any form is for everyone. People have a preference and can not like things.

Using myself as an example. I don't like sports games. Therefore I don't play them as it's not for me. I am not demanding sports games change the entire premise and add things to attract me to the game.

In short if you don't like it, don't force yourself into it. If you are interested. Experience it before making decisions. and especially before you decide that you can change the entire hobby to fit you.

Make your own thing.

Chances are there will be an audience however small or large it may be.

For those of you on the frontlines of the Gatekeeping Hold the line.

#politics #warhammer 40k #adeptus custodes #female custodes #media #invasive species #gatekeepers

[vlepkaaday]

A little buff firewarrior taking a selfie after her training

#digital art #art #comicart #warhammer fanart #t’au #female tau #tau firewarrior #selfie #buff girls

[jungle-angel]

Dude, Where's My Underwear? (Frat!Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett has a royal freak out after a Friday night rager at the frat house and literally no one can remember what happened

Warnings: Frat life, waking up with an unholy hangover, reader missing her underwear, implied orgies etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @sebsxphia @bradleybeachbabe

Notes: RIP Toby Keith, without "Red Solo Cup" I never would've gotten the idea for this fic (lol).

Rhett slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision blurred even as he rubbed away the sleepy grog.

The house was a fucking shithouse mess.

Everybody who was too drunk to stumble home had passed out on the floor with everything in disarray. Red solo cups were strewn everywhere along with a bunch of pool noodles, fading glow sticks, empty bottles and a huge pile of cans that had built up in the living room. Not since him and the rest of his Delta Tau brothers had cleaned up a notorious hoarder den off campus, had he ever seen a shithouse mess like this.

The light from the kitchen and living room windows had hit him with the white hot intensity of a thousand exploding suns, his head throbbing at the sight of it. It took everything in Rhett's power not to puke as he crawled towards the coffee table where his phone began vibrating.

"Aw fuck," he groaned when he felt his stomach lurch. It took him a minute to settle, but when he finally did, he picked up his phone and saw your contact picture.

"Hi baby," he croaked.

"You ok?" you chuckled.

"Debatable," he answered. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the grocery store," you answered. "You need anything?"

"Some Tylenol and the will to live would be great babes."

You laughed a little bit. "Alright I'll bring it over and make everybody a hangover breakfast," you told him. "Just promise me one thing though?"

"What's up?"

"No more Friday night ragers until finals are done?"

"I make no such promises sweetpea," he chuckled.

You laughed again knowing that him and his brothers would probably be doing it all again at some point or another. "Oh before you go," you said. "I'm gonna run to Wal Mart and get some extra supplies and some clean clothes. I'm missing a pair of panties and I have no idea where they went."

Rhett suddenly clenched his lip, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when you hung up.

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!" he suddenly blurted out.

The pile of empty beer cans suddenly slid to the floor, clattering and clanking as Kayce rose up out of it. "Good God what a battle," he groaned. "Are there any survivors?"

"Kayce get the fuck up!!" Rhett blurted out.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Kayce asked, running his hands over his groggy face.

"I can't find (y/n)'s panties anywhere!"

"And this is a problem why?"

"Because the last thing I want is fuckin Smitty gettin his hands on'em," Rhett told him. "That piggly little rich asshole has been after (y/n) since she started here and I'm not about to let him claim anything I've already marked."

"Dude ya'll sound like a male cat during mating season," Kayce laughed.

"I'm serious Kayce!!" Rhett blurted out. "I've gotta find her underwear and I swear if that slimy little piece of snail cum has'em......"

"Bruh did ya'll happen to look on the turtle tank?"

Rhett's gaze turned to the turtle tank near the couch. Sure enough, there they were, a pair of red lace skivies, haphazardly thrown onto the little rock inside.

"Aw fuck," Rhett laughed. "You poor little guys, I'm so sorry."

He gave Speedy, the little brown tortoise and his female mate, a few pets on the shells, letting them lean their heads into his palm. Rhett was surprised their terrarium had survived the rager but duly made a note to have one of the freshman in the dorms take them for the weekend the next time they held a rager.

He had been about to reach in and grab the pair of underwear when Speedy somehow picked them up and stretched his little head, giving the panties to Rhett.

"I have never fuckin seen'em do that before," Kayce laughed.

"Ya'll got it on video?"

"Fuck yeah I did."

Despite the nasty hangovers, the boys made an effort to try and get some sunshine into the house. You rang the doorbell a minute later with you and two other girls from the Phi Gamma sorority, coming in, your arms full of groceries for the best hangover breakfast you could possibly make.

"Oh my God this place looks like a tornado ran through here," you laughed.

"We'll get it cleaned up sweetheart," Rhett assured you. "For now I've gotta get these assholes up."

It was a Herculean task to say the least. So many people were dead drunk in every corner of the house that Rhett was half tempted to go around with the ship's bell in the kitchen and wake everyone up. Bo had passed out in the living room with at least two other idiots having used him as a pillow, Kyle was still asleep under the coffee table, Cody was right under a window with Wes not far by. Ravi had passed out upstairs with at least three other girls and Foster had passed out in his room with his boyfriend. The newly accepted pledges were mostly in the basement while others had taken to whatever space they could find.

You cracked a few eggs into the freshly buttered pan on the stove, the sizzling loud enough to rouse a few of Rhett's brothers from their deep sleep. The whole kitchen soon smelled of eggs, bacon, sausage toast and pitch black coffee that was sure to soak up all the booze from the night before.

"Thank you baby," Rhett mumbled, wrapping both his arms and the heavy couch blanket around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"You're welcome," you chuckled kissing him back.

"Still can't remember what the hell we did last night," he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"Did anybody take any video evidence?" asked Jessica, Bo's girlfriend from the sorority.

"I think Foster was the only one sober enough to remember," Rhett chuckled.

Foster came stumbling down the kitchen steps a split second later, hungover like the rest of them. "Oh my God, never again," he groaned.

"Your boyfriend still upstairs?" Rhett asked him.

"Yeah he was the only one sober enough to remember what happened last night," Foster answered. "Oh wait a sec....."

Foster checked his phone and sure enough, there was an unread message from his boyfriend. "Oh fuck," he said nervously.

"Wassup?" Kayce asked him.

"You guys are gonna wanna see this."

You plated Foster's breakfast before joining Rhett at the table, watching the video evidence unfold from last night. Your jaw dropped, trying to keep in the laughter of everyone's drunken shenanigans. You couldn't contain it anymore when you heard the drunken frat boys singing "Red Solo Cup" like a bunch of screeching seagulls and saw a bunch of girls throwing their underwear all over the room.

You looked at Rhett who sheepishly handed you your skivies. "I was gonna wash'em later with everybody's clothes," he told you.

You kissed him again. "No need Rhett, you're good."

And indeed he was good.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #frat!rhett #frat!rhett abbott #frat!rhett abbott x reader #outer range

[doolallymagpie]

Finally got around to pinning Camine’s arms back in place

Gotta get a new can of spray paint, and then I think I’ll block in the black sections of her armor and just slather her in Iyanden Yellow

#warhammer 40000 #t’au #adeptus astartes #t’au empire #space marines #tau empire #imperial fists #restitutors #mont’ko’vash cadre #Mont’ko’vash’o Camine Rogalova #female space marines #female astartes #gue’ron’vesa #taumarines #dorn's own tip of the spear ever marching forward. SOON. she'll be ready for battle. #i've...really gotta find a t'au-ifiable rogal model

[shediot]

Cyclicism

CHAPTER ONE: Jungkook’s Return

SUMMARY —> Jungkook makes a wildly unexpected reentrance into your life, and, despite the less than ideal past you two share, this time you’re bound and determined to keep him in it — and to keep history from repeating itself.

PAIRING —> Jungkook/Female Reader

TAGS —> 90s/00s, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Flashbacks, Emotionally Constipated OC, Nicknamed OC, Jock OC, Jock Jungkook, OC has some physical attributes

WARNINGS —> Alcohol

WORD COUNT —> 7.3k

AO3

NEXT

8 years ago , Summer 1994.

Life is painfully boring.

This certainly isn’t the first time Jeon Jungkook has come to this conclusion in his eighteen years of life, but it is the first time he’s come to it while he stands in the corner of some random house with a cup of jungle juice in hand, at a party that reeks of alcohol and body odor. The too-loud music hurts his ears, and the bright, rhythmically flashing lights hurt his eyes. Still, he remains standing in the corner, enduring it, trying to obscure himself from view and occupy his mind with inanity until it's an acceptable time to leave.

Jungkook really does not want to be here.

Parties are supposed to be fun, according to his friends and every college movie ever, but Jungkook doesn’t understand what makes them so great. It’s hot, and he’s getting a little sweaty, and even if he wanted to talk to someone, he’d have to shout, and this alcohol tastes like shit, and he’s definitely maybe going to have a headache here soon.

Jungkook had been dragged — mentally kicking and screaming — to this random house on some random street in this new city by courtesy of his roommate, Chan, and Min Yoongi, a college sophomore, member of the fraternity Jungkook plans to rush, Beta Tau Sigma. Yoongi, of all people, had held Jungkook at metaphorical gunpoint and threatened that either Jungkook endure these ridiculous house parties, or resign himself to spending college fraternity-less.

And, like, come on. Jeon Jungkook can’t not be in a frat. 

The parties may not appeal to him, but every other aspect of being in a fraternity does. Especially because none of his close high school friends are attending this university with him, so it’s the best way to meet people.

So, he’s here. Here at this dumb party, a mere week before his first year of college is set to start, wasting his time. He politely wards off the many people that come up to him to very blatantly hit on him, and counts down the minutes until it’s an acceptable time to leave, so he can go home, shower, crash hard and recharge his social battery.

But it’s this supposedly mundane moment that will alter Jungkook’s life. It’s here, while Jungkook’s bored out of his skull and dreaming up a dozen different ways to slyly get out of being at this party without risking losing his bid — it’s at this unspectacular, incredibly dull moment when you make an entrance.

Shoved aside by a large partygoer, you stumble into Jungkook. The jolt causes his cup of jungle juice to tip over, splashing onto your shirt. On impulse, without much thought, he reaches out a hand to grab onto your bicep and steady you so you don’t keep being pushed over by the other large, bumbling men that trail behind the first.

Jostled backward into the wall, it takes him a second too long to really process what just happened, like he’s registering life with a lag. Shit, the alcohol’s dulling his senses, isn’t it?

You straighten yourself, looking first at the retreating backs of the men who had pushed you into Jungkook, but by the time your eyes meet his, they seem to betray no upset as you flash him an unguarded, easy smile. “Thanks for that.”

Jungkook hitches in a breath. It’s a beautiful smile, really; bright and gleaming, a thing that could brighten even the darkest corner of the room. 

Just as quickly as he thinks that strange, unbidden thought, he dismisses it. 

You’re not the first drunk girl to stumble into him tonight, and you likely won’t be the last. It seems to be protocol for college parties. Another point not in favor of parties.

Well, whatever.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, ever-polite and courteous. “They didn’t get you too hard did they?”

“I’m fine,” you say, like it’s no skin off your back. Then, you stand to your full height. 

As Jungkook takes in the whole of you all at once, he almost feels overwhelmed. You’re dressed in various shades of blue and no other color, but that’s not the odd part.

Every girl here is dressed to the nines, with their hair prettily done and wearing a dress or a skirt or maybe a crop top that shows off their chest. Sure, Jungkook finds that stuff appealing.

But you.

You’re dressed like you had just left the gym, wearing a t-shirt and running shorts paired with sneakers. Your hair is pulled back in a high pony. It doesn’t look like you have much makeup on, if any. Your blue clothes show him your fit, toned body, but really just your arms and legs. While Jungkook has never thought himself to have much of a preference when it comes to women’s bodies, he knows at first impression that you’ve got a nice one. You’re tall, too, not much shorter than he is, and he isn’t exactly short for a guy. 

You cut an imposing figure in a way that commands attention. The pretty smile you give him mitigates it some, but the way you hold your shoulders back and head high makes you… Ugh, Jungkook doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s just standing here, staring at you like a brainless fish and he can’t think of what to say. 

Belatedly, he realizes he’s still holding onto you and he drops his hand from your skin like it’s a burning coal that’ll threaten to char his palm off if he holds on much longer.

You don’t seem to mind, however. In fact, your smile only widens. A dazzling smile that threatens to put him in a trance, for real, how much jungle juice has he had to drink because—

Oh no.

There are lots of gorgeous women here at this party. Women that have attempted flirting with him several times before giving up and leaving him alone once they saw how boring, how disinterested he was. There are lots of gorgeous women here. There are lots of pretty women everywhere, but still. There’s something about you specifically.

And he stands there, stock-still and staring at you like the drunken idiot he must be, for far past what is proper. You only stare back, much less idiotically and far more curiously, eyes roaming over him in turn, but…

The all-too-short moment is broken when another woman comes up beside you, slinging her arm through the crook of your elbow, so her pale skin contrasts against your sun-kissed skin. 

“C’mon,” the intruding woman urges, shaking your arm impatiently. “Let’s go get another drink. I just met this guy, Yoongi. He seems cool. I want you to meet him.”

“Cool?” You turn to face the other woman with a quirked brow. Jungkook’s gathering that she must be your friend. (Well, duh, Sherlock.) “And by that, you mean he’s got weed,” you tease.

The intruding woman smiles devilishly. “Bingo. So let’s go before he moves somewhere else. We need to get our foot in the door early. I’m sure we’re not the only freshman girls hankering for a blunt.”

“Girl, singular,” you correct with a roll of your eyes. “Not interested.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

“Joy,” you say, stumbling a little more, and Jungkook has to temper the urge to reach out and hold you steady again. “You’re yanking me.”

“I wouldn’t have to yank you if you weren’t being so slow.” And then the woman—Joy, evidently—pulls you away by the arm without a care.

To Min Yoongi, of all people.

Dazed and stunned, Jungkook watches you walk away. Words he’s not sure how to form hang on the tip of his tongue. 

What he does know is that he wants to talk to you. Actually speak to you. Have a conversation. Get to know you.

But you walk away.

You walk away, and you don’t look back.

——

It takes far too long to find you.

In his search for you, he repeatedly gets stopped by multiple people: potential fraternity brothers, girls interested in talking to him, strangers that want something from him. But he’s mentally half-there while his potential brothers talk his ear off, his attention scanning the crowd for you. When women come up to him he only gives them an awkward smile and politely entertains platitudes before finding an excuse to walk away. 

Jungkook realizes this is shallow. He knows he’s being a little dumb, and probably tipsy, and that his wildly selective hormones are likely just going haywire like a broken compass at the sight of the first truly intriguing person here. But if he has to endure being here, maybe finding you could make it a bit more bearable. Maybe. Point is, he really doesn’t want you to disappear before he can get your name. Doesn’t want to lose you for good before he can have a chance to actually speak to you.

Not like he knows what to do if he does somehow find you, but, well. He’ll cross that awkward bridge if it comes to it.

So, yeah.

Luckily, just when Jungkook is about ready to give up hope and leave — he finds you.

Jungkook breathes a labored sigh of relief.

He’s not sure why he scrutinized everyone inside the too-large party house so intensely; you stick out among the rest of the group you’re in like a pretty, blue sore thumb. Soft, dark bangs frame the curvature of your face and juxtapose against that bright smile. That smile of yours as you speak remains glorious.

Peals of your loud laughter ring across the backyard.

Jungkook is quickly discovering that you are loud, and shameless, and unabashed in being so. It only makes him feel further pulled toward your orbit. Before he can chicken out, he allows his legs to override his anxious brain and lead him toward you and your friend, Joy, standing in a small circle with his senior, Min Yoongi and Chan, his roommate.

Lucky, lucky Jungkook. He probably only has the courage to go up to you at all because you’re talking to his friends. 

He’s not willing to let this chance to speak to you for real slip through his fingers.

Luckily, Chan sees Jungkook coming before you do, and he manages to make Jungkook’s entrance slightly less awkward by grinning and waving him enthusiastically over to their little group. “Jungkook! Get over here, bro!”

Hands sliding into the front pockets of his joggers, Jungkook grins bashfully as all four pairs of eyes from your group fall on him. 

He makes his way over to the group. Chan throws an easy, familiar arm over his friend’s broad shoulders and drunkenly grins at the two girls. “Ladies,” he begins. “This is my roommate, Jeon Jungkook. He’s a little shy, so please treat him well. I don’t think he’s ever spoken to a girl before.”

Yoongi, blunt hanging from the tips of his two fingers, releases a snort, and you? 

You laugh. 

Jungkook nudges his roommate. “Dude,” he hisses.

Your friend seems amused, but not as expressive as you. “I’m Joy,” she says, extending a manicured hand for Jungkook to shake, all uniform and firmness. “I’m a freshman.”

Reluctantly, shyly, Jungkook shakes her hand.

This woman… Well, Jungkook would be blind if he didn’t admit that she was drop-dead gorgeous. The type of woman he thinks he should find in magazines or on the runway. With her long, wavy dark hair that reaches to the small of her back, her slim stature, pretty maroon lips and sparkling eyes, she’s definitely a woman to write home about.

And still, there’s just something about you. Something alluring. Something fresh. Something magnetic. A different kind of interesting, a woman in a league of your own.

“You’re all fresh meat,” says Yoongi with a roll of his eyes, taking a drag of the blunt. “Babies.”

“Yeah? Mad you’re an old man?” Joy quips back, sharp as a tack. “Pass me that.”

He raises a querulous brow. “After you just called me an old man?”

While your eyes are on Yoongi and Joy's exchange, Jungkook's gaze remains fixed on you.“What’s your name?” Jungkook asks you while the other two continue bickering, his own voice soft. As if afraid to scare you off.

You turn to face him, your smile softening to mirror his. “That’s a secret.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, again, clearly annoyed by you. “She refuses to tell us her name. Don’t bother asking again, neither girl will budge.”

“Trust me, we’ve tried,” says Chan.

You and Joy share a look before falling into a drunken dual giggle fit. 

“Girls,” Yoongi grumbles half-heartedly, ashing his blunt. 

“Oh…” Jungkook trails off, unsure how to react to that. A name’s a name. Why can’t he know yours?

Slowly, your laughter dies, and you fix Jungkook with a stare of growing curiosity. He shifts beneath your gaze, the weight of your full attention heavy.

“Wait,” you say, tilting your head, eyes roaming over his form as if giving a full examination of him. Recognition visibly dawns in your eyes. “Hey! You’re the guy who spilled your drink on me a while ago.”

Jungkook opens his mouth in disbelief, and then closes it. “Uh. You ran into me.”

You shake your head, as if you don’t believe him for whatever insane reason, but before he can fully register what’s happening, you’ve reached out your hand to grab him by the wrist. “Come with me.”

Then you practically yank him away. And, while Jungkook may be a little confused, he willingly trails behind you. Your hand is warm where it's wrapped around his wrist.

Oddly enough, though Jungkook is not normally a big fan of people touching him, with you he finds he has no qualms.

You lead him back inside the house party, immediately veering toward the drink table. “You, Jeon Jungkook,” you say, a bit forcefully, as you pull to a stop in front of the drink stand, “Are going to buy me another drink to replace the one you spilled.”

He can’t help it—he laughs. He’s amused. Thank God—he definitely needed a little amusement. This party was so boring before you ran into him.

You were the one who had spilled his drink, but he doesn’t care. Because right now, you’re speaking to him. So he’ll buy you as many drinks as you want if it keeps you talking in his vicinity.

He pulls out his leather wallet from his back pocket and pays without a fight for the drink you pick out.

You grin gratefully, nudging him gently, like you’re old friends. “I know you owed me, but thanks.”

“No problem, really,” he says. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

You tilt your head, your drunken grin so bright and free. You bring your red solo cup to your lips, and ask, “Feeling a little guilty, Jeon?”

He only laughs in response. Yeah, as if. 

Thankfully, you don’t seem put off by his lack of a verbal response. Instead, you use your free hand to grab his wrist once more, leading him fuck knows where. At this point, he finds himself not caring where. Where you go, he’ll follow.

Jungkook does pull you both to a stop, however, causing you to look back at him quizzically. With an uncharacteristic bout of courage (liquid courage, most likely), he pulls his wrist from your unyielding grip, before quickly grabbing your hand and weaving his fingers through yours. “It’s more comfortable this way,” he explains.

Unfazed, you simply turn and continue leading Jungkook to wherever you were taking him to begin with.

You trek up the house’s stairs like you live here (and he supposes there’s a possibility that you do…), and as you both pass down the long hallway, you pass a couple bedrooms, the undeniable sounds of college students getting it on drifting out from under the cracks of the doors. The loud, shameless noises invade his headspace and make his head begin to spin.

Flustered, Jungkook tries his best to ignore those sounds.

Are you trying to get Jungkook to fuck you?

Wow. Uh. He rubs at the back of his reddening neck as he trails behind you. Sure, he thinks you’re super pretty and he finds himself enjoying your new and fresh presence, but Jungkook does not move that fast. 

If that’s your goal here… Fuck. He doesn’t know how he can deny you without running you off. 

All Jungkook really wants is to talk to you more. Get your name. See if there’s maybe, possibly, a chance of building something here. He’s a romantic at heart. Slow-going, cautious. He wants the steady brick and mortar base before even thinking about going that far that soon.

You pull to a stop in front of one of the doors. Jungkook sucks in a deep, anxious inhale, ready to tell you he’s not ready for sex, and isn’t interested in casual sex to begin with, but he sure is interested in you, a little, if that’s alright but—

You open the door.

It’s a laundry room. You took him to a laundry room. 

It doesn’t seem to be a mistake, or poor luck of the draw, for you beam satisfactorily, as if you weren’t quite sure of what you were going to find when you opened the door but satisfied with the results. Then you lead Jungkook inside and shut and lock the door behind him. Confused, he allows himself to be led in.

He looks around the room searching for any special reason you decided to take him to a laundry room specifically. 

Jungkook knows there’s jokes about women and washing machines, but… Why would he be here for that, then? Even in the context of a shitty porno, it doesn’t make sense.

Nervously, his voice barely above a whisper, he asks, as if someone might be listening,  “What are we doing here?”

Ignoring him, you release his hand and kneel to the floor (but, again, not in a shitty porno way because you aren’t facing him). You begin to open cabinet doors and search around for… something? Who knows?

The innocence of this not matching up with his thoughts only makes him more confused.

Presumably having found what you were looking for, you bounce back up to your feet, all fluidity and flexibility. Jungkook blinks at the sight of the bottle in your hand: Spray ‘n Wash. 

“You,” you say pointedly, “ruined my shirt.”

Jungkook blinks. “Um?”

“You ruined my shirt, and it’s one of my favorites.” You sigh, staring down at the red stain splashed across the torso of your shirt. “My fault for wearing it to a party, I guess.”

Brows furrowed, Jungkook gapes. “I’m sorry, what? You brought me here because you wanted help putting Spray ‘n Wash on your shirt?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you do something even odder: you pull off your shirt, uncaringly, and Jungkook quickly and awkwardly averts his gaze out of respect, clearing his throat to remind you of his presence in the room. 

“It’s cool if you look,” you say nonchalantly. “I have a sports bra on. It’s like if you saw me at the gym or the pool.”

Ah, well. Okay, sure.

(He mentally adds ‘exhibitionist’ to the growing list of things he’s discovering about you). 

So he does look, only briefly allowing himself to admire your toned stomach, or your, uh, perky boobs, as you spray the mixture onto the jungle juice stain, scrubbing it in persistently with a fingernail. Unlike Joy’s pristinely manicured nails, your hands, while clean and clipped, sport no manicure or polish. And your eyes are narrow, concentrated on getting the stain out. While you concentrate, you prod the inside of your cheek with your tongue.

He swallows, directing his eyes elsewhere. You very obviously make a habit of staying fit and in shape. He really likes that, but he wants to respect you, not ogle you and objectify you.

“I don’t need your help with this,” you say, breaking his thoughts by finally deigning to answer his earlier question. “What I need is something else.”

“And that is…?”

“I want your hoodie.”

“My hoodie?” he parrots in disbelief.

Christ, you’re odd. And seem to hold no compunctions about being so. Boldly, unashamedly you.

“Yeah,” you say plainly. “Give it to me.”

Jungkook only stares at you, hand absentmindedly coming up to tug at the string of his hoodie. “I like this hoodie.” It’s a black hoodie, warm and comfy. One of his favorites. 

You sigh, as if you’re the one put out here, and not Jungkook, who’s having his hoodie demanded of him. “Okay then,” you say, clearly undeterred. “Keep your hoodie. But give me your shirt instead.”

Jungkook only feels more confused. “Why do I have to give you either?”

“Because,” you say, leaning against the cabinets to fix him with an unimpressed stare, arms crossed across your bare stomach. “I’m putting my shirt in the washer, and while I don’t mind walking around in just a bra if I have to, I’d rather not.”

Ah, well. He’d rather you not walk around like that either. Not in a weird, possessive way, just... Uh. Yeah. 

“Fine. You can take my shirt,” Jungkook says, fiddling with the hemline of his hoodie. Then, he moves to pull off both the hoodie and shirt by the neck. “I run cold, and I really don’t want to lose this hoodie.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, as you take the proffered black cotton tee from his outstretched hand. “The shirt will get back to you.”

He doesn’t think he imagines your eyes lingering on his bare chest before he pulls the hoodie back on. 

Then you pull his shirt on, and he has to admit, he really likes the sight of you in it. It fits you well. He swallows over the rising lump in his throat. Your eyes widen, and you tilt your head down to… Sniff at the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook blinks.

“Fuck, you smell good,” you say admiringly. “Really damn good. I didn’t know college boys showered.”

The tips of his ears redden. “Uh… Thank you,” he manages out.

Then you pull the shirt on, and he has to admit, he really likes the sight of you in his shirt. It fits you well. He swallows.

“I’ll wash this and return it to you tomorrow. I’ll give you my pager number and address so you can get it back.”

He tries valiantly to keep calm and appear as nonchalant about it as you do, as if he hasn’t been trying to figure out a way to ask for a way to keep in contact with you since he’d first seen you. Giving a cool nod, he hopes he doesn’t seem too eager with his agreement.

Seemingly satisfied, you turn back around to continue your search through the cabinets of the laundry room, coming across what you must have been looking for: a pen and a stack of slightly bent post-it notes, blue. You crack a smile.

“My favorite color,” you explain to Jungkook needlessly, scribbling down what must presumably be your address and pager number on the slightly frayed post-it note, possibly frayed from humidity or disuse. It doesn’t matter, because when you hand him the written-on note, it’s as if you just gifted him the holy grail in the form of a dyed, square piece of mini paper.

Carefully, very, very carefully, Jungkook folds it and slides the note into the pocket of his joggers, certain both pieces of information will be burned into his retinas by tomorrow morning.  “Will you tell me your name now?” he ventures.

Your only reply is a cheeky shake of your head as you plop your shirt in the washing machine.

He sighs. He tries his best to be polite to everyone he meets, no matter how annoyed he is, but you’re particularly infuriating about this particular thing. “Well, then, how am I supposed to refer to you?”

You close the lid to the washer, pressing the wash button, and then turn around to face him with a contemplative face, eyes averted in thought. “I don’t know,” you say. “I didn’t think that far ahead. Joy and I just decided to not give anyone our real names. She chose Joy as a stand in, though, because that’s what her parents call her.” Your eyes seem slightly dim even as you explain, “Their little bundle of joy.” But they immediately brighten when you add: “How ironic, huh? She’s not joyful at all.”

Jungkook frowns at the slight bitterness that had slipped into your tone. Sure, he doesn’t know you, but he has to wonder if the bite is only noticeable because you’re drunk. Whatever the case, it’s there, and it has him standing straighter, and feeling slightly more forgiving. 

“Then can I give you a name?” he asks.

Just for tonight. After you and Joy are done playing your little game and are willing to part with things so simple as your names,  he’ll be able to know your name. But for tonight, he won’t continue to press the issue. 

You seem to think about it before giving a slow nod, sticking your drink’s straw between your lips as your gaze locks with his, waiting to be dubbed.

Jungkook leans against the shelves across from you, his arms crossed. His dark eyes scan over your body: aside from the black shirt he’d loaned you, you’re a walking bottle of blue. “You said blue’s your favorite color,” he states.

“I did.”

“So what about Blue?”

You seem to chew on the moniker, brows raised in contemplation. Then you smile over your straw, your white teeth gleaming due to the moonlight streaming in through the room’s generous windows, your hair in a slight array from pulling on and off shirts.

“Blue,” you echo, as if testing the syllable. Then you nod. “I like it. Suits.”

Jungkook leans back, openly staring at you the way you stare at him now. He doesn’t understand it, but though he’s normally quite mild-mannered and shy, being with you… It feels like manners aren’t necessary, and being shy even less so. Like just being in your vicinity gives him a sort of subtle courage to speak and be freely.

You may be strange, but you’re also very friendly, and he hopes against hope that this isn’t just the alcohol persuading your personality. 

You seem like a breath of fresh air.

That said, Jungkook is still relatively new to the world of flirting, but he hopes you understand he is flirting with you when he asks, “So… Can I maybe see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you say, too easily. “I just moved here, so I’m always looking for friends. So, if you’re looking for a friend, too…” You hold out your hand, as if to say, here I am.

It doesn’t seem pointed, like you’re blatantly turning down any romantic advances from Jungkook, but he does deflate. Just a bit. 

So, you’re looking for friends only. That’s fine. Jungkook would love to be your friend, too. He’s not the kind of person to blow up because he can’t get the person he wants, or anything. And it’s not that he wants you, he hardly knows you, but he wants to get to know you. So if you’re just looking for friendship, then all right. He can deal with that. Really.

“I’ve got somewhere to be tomorrow morning,” he answers, trying to keep any disappointment out of his tone. “So maybe after..?”

“Cool. I also have plans in the morning, so it works.” 

A moment’s quiet tarps over the two of you, and Jungkook’s desperate to break it. “Do you know the people who live here?” he asks, nodding his head toward the washer to show why he’d asked.

Grinning, you shake your head. 

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “And you’re going to use their washer regardless?”

Your eyes sparkle with mischief. “No one will ever know but you and me.”

“How did you even know where the laundry room was?”

You’re not sheepish at all when you respond, “Joy and I did a little snooping when we got here.”

“You’re insane.” He can’t help it—the words slip out, and you laugh.

“Maybe so.” You slowly slide down, against the washer, until you sit down on the ground. “Well, you’re free to leave whenever you want. I have your shirt and you have the means for getting it back. So... You can go.”

Jungkook finds he very much does not want to go. You’re the best thing to happen to him all night. Hell, maybe since he moved to this city. He doesn’t completely understand why he thinks so—you’re friendly, yet odd, but he likes your confidence. How sure you are of yourself. How you treat him like an old friend despite having just met.

Of course, he doesn’t know you, so he can only hope that none of that is solely due to the influence of alcohol.

He’s very glad you’d stumbled into him and made him spill his drink on your shirt, because he’s been able to get you like this; alone, even if it’s not in the way college students might typically try to get the subject of their attention alone. 

“What will you do?” he asks, finally.

“What does it look like? I’ll wait for my shirt to get washed.”

“Alone?”

“Unless you’re going to grace me with your company.” Your smile fades, and you rest your chin atop your knees, you pretty eyes staring up at him. “I’d like it if you stayed, but I understand if you’d have more fun at the actual party.”

Jungkook shakes his head firmly. “No way. I was bored before you.”

He’s not usually so forward, but the way you light up when he says that? Yeah, okay. Maybe he’ll have to be more forward with you in the future. It looks like something you appreciate.

With that, he sits down across from you, and you stretch your legs out next to his, so they bump together, a grateful grin re-finding your expression.

“Thanks for sticking with me,” you say. “I promise to be as entertaining as possible.”

Jungkook laughs.

He’s not sure why you’re thanking him. 

Jungkook thinks he’ll stick with you for however long you let him.

Present day, Summer 2002.

With delightfully blistered, calloused and chalked hands, you climb.

The belay device attached to your harness stays firm as you make the climb upward, your friend-slash-belayer cheering you on down below, loud and encouraging. You try your best to not lose focus, concentrated fully on each rock and dip in the wall, the way the sinews of your muscles burn with the delicious stretch, a sheen of sweat coating your tanned skin as you make the arduous climb.

“Slack!” you call down your rock climbing buddy, and she responds by immediately loosening the rope enough so you can move more comfortably. You move your foot to one foothold, and cautiously move your way upward.

You’re almost to the top, and victory begins to seat itself on your tongue. Your body moves intuitively as you climb, somehow simply knowing where to place your feet, your hands, to effectively make you scale the rockwall faster. 

Almost there. Just a few more feet, and you’ll be at the top. Your competitive spirit clamors for the release that scaling this rockwall will bring, and—

“Blue?”

And you slip.

“Oh, shit!” Your belayer immediately switches tactics to brace for the weight of your fall, distributing her own weight just in time to prevent you from going freefall. Coming to a sharp stop, you dangle pathetically mid-air as you try to wrap around your mind what you had just heard, to place the source of the voice. The voice that had called your name — your nickname — out. Quickly, you latch back onto the wall to ease your friend’s burden, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest, and not just because you, experienced you, made a dangerous rookie mistake, but because…

Because that’s Jeon Jungkook’s voice.

He’s here. 

Grip now firmly on the rockwall, you slowly turn your head to locate the man, eyes wide with fear, shock and anticipation rolled into one confusing amalgam of emotions.

There he is, standing down on the floor below, being buckled into his own harness as he stares just as wide-eyed and alarmed up at you. 

There he is, Jeon fucking Jungkook, in all his elusive, unmitigated glory.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You attempt to will the slowing of the rapidity of your heart, trying to deceive your own body into calming itself. 

It doesn’t work.

Jungkook gives you an awkward, two-fingered wave from down below, and you intake a deep breath.

“Take!” you yell down to your belayer, and as soon as she’s ready, you begin to push your way down the wall in controlled leaps as she guides you. Once you reach the floor, you detach the belay and slip out of your harness, eyes avoiding Jungkook on purpose as he gets strapped in for a climb of his own.

“What was that?” your friend asks you, concern clear in her tone and her narrowed eyes. “You lost focus. I’ve never seen you lose focus like that. Are you okay?”

Swallowing, you nod, turning to look at your dear friend as she checks you over for any injury. Finding none, she pats your shoulder. “Sorry about that.” You don’t attempt to explain. 

“I’ve got to belay for Jisoo,” she says, gesturing to a waiting woman outside the fenced area. “You good?”

You nod again. “I’m just fine,” you say falsely and assuringly, with one of your patent winning smiles. “Go, go. Don’t want to keep her waiting. Otherwise, she might get a wandering eye,” you say with a wink.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not happening,” she says, as she turns around to walk away.

“Sure it isn’t!” you tease back.

As soon as your friend’s attention is elsewhere, you turn back to face Jungkook, and try your best to keep your unaffected, bright smile on your face as you stride your way up to him.

No matter your and Jungkook’s past, you can’t just walk away from him. Not after all these years. Especially when the past is just that — the past. Lacking meaning in the grand scheme of things.

Just because things between you and Jungkook ended poorly four years ago doesn’t mean that needs to carry over now.

Besides… He’d called out to you. That’s a good sign. 

So you walk up to him, and crack a welcoming smile. “It’s nice to see you.”

The words sound odd and dumb from your mouth. Like you’re acting like he’s just an old semi-friend you fell out of contact with.

Well… In a way, that’s exactly what happened. But that feels far too shallow of a way to describe the past. 

It doesn’t matter. You don’t hold grudges, never have, and you expect the same from others. 

You’re really good at moving forward.

But damn Jungkook’s ability to hide what he thinks right now, because you aren’t sure what’s hiding in the crevices of his face as he surveys you in kind. Disappointment? Anger? Both would be valid emotions, all things considered.

“Nice to see you, too, Blue,” he says back, brows slightly scrunched together as he watches you. Like he can’t believe you’re standing before him, having the audacity to speak to him.

The use of your nickname again makes your skin prick. Not because it’s fallen into disuse since college, but because the opposite had happened.

The silly, simple nickname the man in front of you had dubbed you eight years ago still clings tightly to you. Your friends call you it. Your coworkers and clients, too. Hell, you’d even started giving new people you met the nickname instead of your real one. It’d been purposeful on your end, wanting the name Jungkook had chosen for you, and it’s since stayed tied to you for your entire adult life. But you’d almost forgotten about its origin, what with it being so common now, so stuck to the matter of you, that the reminder of whom it came from strikes you.

“How… What…” You shake your head. You don’t normally struggle with social interaction, but this is definitely a special case. A one-of-a-kind case. “You look… good,” is the stupidly simple statement you settle on.

Jeon Jungkook has always been incredibly attractive. His omnipresent gaggle of fangirls and boys from college could clue one in to that, but…

It’s different now.

He hasn’t grown taller since you last saw him, four years ago, for you still see nearly eye to eye with him, being only a few centimeters shorter. But, while he may not have grown taller, his shoulders have filled out, becoming even broader than you remember them being, and they were already notably broad back then. And, while Jungkook had always been rather fit, he’s impossibly more so now, as evidenced by the toned thighs that peak out through his athletic shorts. 

Not to mention those damn arms and hands, now littered with a sleeve of tattoos that had only been in the beginning stages four years ago, drawing one’s eye to the taut muscles of his forearms, down to those strong hands and thick, enticing fingers.

But his face is the most startling contrast of all. Its sharpness is the most distinct feature. Now there’s an eyebrow piercing on his right brow. Gone are the round cheeks of before that had given him a bent of innocence. Now what sticks out most is the knife-like cut to his nose, the precision in his jaw.

Those dark eyes, though. Almost black. The wide, pretty set of them. Those are as equally dangerous and entrancing as ever. 

Okay, no. No. There’s no need to continue going down this mental road. You’ll only drive yourself crazy.

That damned smile though. The smile that’s always made your stomach twist in tangled knots. The smile he’s now giving you, sweet and unsure and nervous and undoubtedly cute. “You....” He gestures his hand toward you helplessly. “Look great, too. Really great.”

You’re used to compliments like that. You do look great. You feel great too.

And you realize that the reason for Jungkook pointing that out, beyond just echoing your friendly niceties, is… The woman he’d left behind had decidedly not looked so healthy or good.

“So, what brings you back to town?” you say, trying for conversation that doesn’t revolve around looks. “Missed the trails? The mountains? Personal business?”

Jungkook swallows. You study his throat intently, eyes zeroing in on a trail of sweat that slowly dips into the strong lines of his neck. “Job offer,” he says, almost cautious about it.

Your eyes dart to his in shock. “Job…. offer?” you echo lamely. 

He nods, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck while he slightly dips his head. “Uh… Yeah. At Hanseu.”

“Seoul wasn’t enough to hold you down?“

His eyes survey you, dark and piercing. “This town is my home.” He says it gently — as if he’s afraid you’ll startle like a hunted gazelle at the words.

And they do put you on edge the same way as the hunted always are.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. He’s… Coming back?

“So this is… permanent?” you ask.

Jungkook has always seemed too big for this town and… Well, he couldn’t leave here fast enough, way back, it had seemed. Couldn’t wait to leave this town, and you, and all your shared friends.

Jungkook looks steadily unemotive. “Permanent as can be expected,” he says.

Well. 

You swallow.

You both well know about the evanescence of life. How you can be so sure of something one moment, and then the next…

He clears his throat, rubbing a hand through his thick, soft hair. “Well… What about you, Blue? You’re a physical therapist now, right?

You find yourself relaxing marginally at the mention of your career, as well as a twinge of pride. Being a physical therapist is what you had worked toward for so long, after all. When Jungkook had left, you’d only just begun your DPT program. After some blood, sweat and tears, and a good chunk of time, you’d completed it. And now here you are — as of two years ago, a licensed physical therapist. Your dream career. 

It feels odd, somehow, to think about how you were still working toward said dream back when Jungkook was a major part of your life. Back when Jungkook was around, you were just a silly college student, unsure about the future. 

You’re still unsure about the future now, but at least your career is settled.

“That’s right,” you boast, standing up straighter. “And I’m damn good at it.”

“I believe that,” he says, eyes bright and swelling with his patent genuineness. “All that hard work, and now look at you.” He grins, stepping forward just a bit, bridging the gap between you in a physically minuscule but mentally macrocosmic way. “I’m proud of you, Blue.”

There’s something in the way Jeon Jungkook compliments you. It’s never just a compliment. It’s genuine praise to your ears, and you do your best to fight the telltale flush that threatens to overcome your cheeks.

You nod your head by way of gratitude, finding yourself mentally stumbling. 

With a glance at the chunky blue watch adorned on your wrist, you spot the time — namely, that you’re running out of it. You’re glad you have an excuse to leave, because you don’t know how much longer you can stand here with Jungkook without making even more of a fool of yourself. But, also, if you didn’t have a good reason to leave…

You’re not sure you’d want to of your own volition.

“I do a bit of personal training on the side, and I have a client coming in a few minutes I need to prep for,” you explain. “We’ll... catch up later, yeah?”

You turn to leave, and suddenly he grabs at your wrist. Not tight, not in the least, his fingers wispily ghosting against your skin, burning hot where they touch you.

Once you stop and turn back around, he releases you.

“Look…” He seems to chew on his words, gaze down at the gym floor, before his doe eyes flick upwards to lock with yours. “Don’t be a stranger. Please.”

You melt.

The past is the past. You can’t let it affect your present, nor your future.

Before you can respond, you hear your name called.

“Blue! What are you doing? My session was supposed to start five minutes ago!”

You feel so wrapped in Jungkook that acknowledging you have to go just makes you feel like you have to yank yourself away. For someone like you — that’s dangerous. Just one of the dozens of ways in which Jungkook is dangerous to you, though.

“That’s my client,” you tell Jungkook needlessly, cutting through the terse silence.

Jungkook doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “Okay.”

You sigh, turning over the next step for the two of you in your head. On an impulsive, and secretly hopeful, whim, you say, “Tomorrow at 6:00 A.M. I’ll be going hiking at Sangsaeng. It’ll be just me this week.” You hesitate, but only slightly. “If you want to join me…” You trail off, extending your arms in a flourish. You drop them to your sides. “Show up if you want to. Don’t if you don’t.”

This is your attempt to not be a stranger.

You and Jungkook aren’t strangers, though. Nor are you friends. You’re somewhere in between. In a confusing cosmos of push and pull, of cold distance and white heat.

With that offer extended, you turn around on the balls of your feet before he can reply and head toward your client, hoping against hope that Jungkook takes you up on your offer.

The ball’s now in Jungkook’s court. You just hope he wants to dust off the ball and play the game.

#jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jjk #cyclicism #cyc

[toothpastecanyon]

Hi! I’d like to start with the fact that your writing is PHENOMENAL, the way every first chapter is designed to grab the readers attention, with a mystery or a cozy little opening, establishing where the character is in life and their motives, or a sneak peek at the problem the characters must overcome.

I’m really bad at articulating my thoughts, but ur characters are really well written and I’d like to make more fanart of them, but I’m not quite sure what they look like.

(The only fics of your la that i KNOW you wrote are Unto Dust, and The Comfort of Agony (both of which are really good btw, I also love how you write existing characters, and your portrayal of them(especially Lucy Ann))

Anyway, because there are so many interpretations of species used in TAU, I got a little mixed up on what the non-human characters look like.

Darceus- in Lucy Ann and the Lunch Bunch, there is a Kitsune named Felicity, who is described as “looking a kind of like a human, and kind of like a fox” which my interpretation of is shown below. I forgot that that isn’t typical for kitsune characters in tau (even though she’s the only one since yours) and drew her in a similar way. ( also, are there any distinctive features on her nieces?) btw the LION idea is phenomenal, also do you think she has a mane? They’re fun to draw.

June- how big is she? I assumed she was the size of a human based on her interactions, but then I realized she might be looking down of people because she can fly. But then I remembered that it says she walks around. So then I confused myself. Also, skin tone, hair color/texture, eyes?

Beatrice- SHE IS SO WELL WRITTEN I felt genuinely angry while reading her meeting with Lucy Ann (in a good way) and she seems like someone you would meet in real life, totally obnoxious! Also, I don’t really know how TAU elves usually look so, idk anything about her skin tone or hair or eyes.

Here are pictures of my doodles in case you want to take a look, try to ignore the paper texture please.

Also, an old picture of Felicity:

Sorry if any of this is worded weird, im not that good at talking, but could you please give a solid description of the major/cool characters in Unto Dust?

(And in case I didn’t say it before, the Comfort of Agony is SO WELL WRITTEN there is too much for me to say about it!)

Oh wow, this is all so kind of you to say! Thank you so much - I'm so glad to hear you enjoy my writing, and I love the sketches you've done! You already have a lot of great designs and the characters look super expressive!

It's really exciting to be asked more of what my characters look like and I'll give you the best description I can, but I do want to note I often don't have a clear idea of what my characters look like - I like that writing lets a reader come up with their own spins on what a character looks like! So while I'm adding my own interpretation of my characters here, if you have a different idea you think works better or just looks cooler to you, I say go for it!

I'll organise my thoughts by each character:

Darceus: I was definitely inspired by @feferipeixes' character Felicity to make a kitsune character! I really like the mane idea you have going in your sketches, and female lions do occasionally grow manes! I like the way you've drawn her formal attire, with the nine tails spread out behind her like a sort of cape! You really brought her to life!

I probably still imagine her with a fox's colouration - I liked the lion imagery to evoke the broader facial features and just overall stockier build than an average kitsune.

The nieces: They're probably both young adults of average height. I don't have a clear idea of what they look like, but it might be fun to draw them as a different type or species of fox - silver foxes look really pretty with distinctive markings! They probably have less tails than Darceus, maybe three or so.

June: I definitely had the idea of her being average sized - I think writing it from Lucy Ann's perspective makes her seem taller as a lot of characters have to look down on her (sorry Lucy Ann!). I really like the wings you drew for her! She's a middle-aged lady with a little grey in her red hair, and probably likes wearing a lot of running gear - gotta train for that 10K!

Beatrice: I really like the long ears you've given her, that looks super distinctive! The loose t-shirt is really good. I probably imagine her with more of a pear shaped build with dark brown eyes and hair. If she does magic like in her appearances with Noie I like to think it'd look a lot how Mod V's elf OC Florian does it.

Also I definitely am looking for Lucy Ann to start wearing a glove! I'm not sure whether it would be fun to have it be a red glove to match the rest of her outfit, or if it's black or some other clashing colour to illustrate how she sees it as something unwanted and forced upon her.

That's all I can think of, but if you'd like anything more specific I'd be more than happy to help! Thank you again for this ask and your awesome sketches - if you end up drawing anything else I'd really love to see it!

Have a great day! :D

#transcendence au #lucy ann #this made my day! #toothasks #beatrice delion #worldbuilding #Dinner Crew

[thaoslikespie]

Tau body type headcanons:

The fire warriors are bred for battle so reproduction is a function. as a result there is no need for mate attraction and they have very little differences between the sexes. A male and female fire caste tau is almost indistinguishable, except for the few female fire caste members born with the Y-shaped face slit.

The earth caste, air caste and ethereal caste have different face slits based on birth sex. I-shaped for male, Y-shaped for female.

The water caste have the most difference between the sexes, having evolved to resembled the species they spend the most time with. this is to seem more palatable to them. The example here is for water caste members adapted to humans.

Fire caste members have a very muscular body and are fast. Earth caste members are shorter and heavier, closer to a body builder in stature. They are built for stamina and strength, not speed. The water caste has softer skin, far thinner than the usual leathery texture of other castes. They're closer to humans in height and build. The air caste is fragile and thin due to their hollow bones. They have adapted to spend their lives in space. They have a vestigial skin membrane. This is a remnant of the membrane wings they had before the tau took to space. The ethereal caste members are skinny yet fit, with greyer skin. Their greatest difference is the red gem-like organ in their forehead.

#thaoslikespie #warhammer 40k #warhammer fanart #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k fanart #warhammer 40k art #warhammer art #wh40k #wh40k art #tau #warhammer40k tau #warhammer tau #tau empire #tau fanart #40k #40k fanart #40k tau