#(i know youre not supposed to double denim but like. i think this is cute

[humanityscompaniondaily]

day 109: denim

[roosterbruiser]

Going back home with Bob and him showing you his hometown and meeting his family 🫶

(lt-natrace on main❤️)

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

When you met Bob for the first time, he was achingly perfect. You were at the farmer's market, which you frequented when the weather was nice enough, and happened to stop by the same local honey booth at the same time.

You noticed him immediately: the hunk in the old Temple University sweatshirt with the muscular legs straining against the cool blue denim shorts he was wearing. His hair was soft, but well-kept and his face was cleanly shaven. You knew, just from looking at him, that he took good care of himself. You liked that in an adult man and had found out, the hard way, that it was not a very common trait in the pointless circle of men you sometimes dated.

The two of you reached for the last jar of lavender-infused honey at the same time. His fingers pressing down on the back of your hand elicited a strange sort of physical response from you--usually, you'd jolt away after touching a strange man. But you wanted to lean into that touch, even if it was minuscule, even if it was minute.

But he retracted, eyes wide behind his wire frames.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am! I apologize," he said instantly, cheeks pink.

You smiled at him, biting your lip.

"What are you sorry for?" You asked, letting your fingers slip off the jar of honey.

The wind was billowing softly, pulling the scent of the peonies from the next stand over to your nose and parted lips. Bob was blushing something fierce, squinting down at you beneath the harsh gaze of the sun, stammering softly.

"Well, I suppose I was making an attempt at that honey of yours," he says, laughing softly.

It makes you laugh--the two of you reached the honey at the same time, fair and square. The only thing he was guilty of was not bringing a hat or sunglasses out and about on a Saturday morning in San Diego. But he was so endearing, already willing to give you the last jar of honey despite your stranger-status.

He was smiling down at you, too tall for his own good, thin lips pink and soft. His eyes were the color of the sky just above him, so deep and so clear that you felt like you could suspend yourself in them. Honestly, you were having a hard time breathing as he gazed down at you, but in a delicious manner.

"You can have it," you say softly, smiling up at him. "I like the vanilla honey just as much."

Honestly, you don't like the vanilla honey just as much. In fact, the lavender honey was the highlight of your week. You kept having to purchase it every week because you ate it in copious amounts. You couldn't help yourself--it was that good.

But this guy's cute. And he tried to give you the honey already. His face is sweet and his smile is giving you heart palpitations. You think, without even really knowing why or how, that he deserves the honey. It's just an innate feeling that's sitting in your chest heavily.

"You're sure?" He asked softly, perching a brow questioningly.

You nodded, smiling up at him.

"Aren't I always?" You tease like you're old friends.

He grins, chuckling. And then he reaches for the honey and gives you a nod.

"Thanks for this," he says, gesturing to the honey. "I don't think I caught your name?"

You say your name, your heart fluttering when it falls off his lips.

"I'm Bob," he introduces, nodding politely again.

"Pleasure to have my honey stolen by you, Bob," you teased, wrinkling your nose adorably.

He laughed--it was a good sound, one that sounded natural among the calling seagulls and chattering people and live music playing down the street. It just sounded like it belonged there.

"Trust me, the pleasure's been all mine," he grinned at you.

Then you laughed--and Bob nearly doubled over at the sudden bout of butterflies in his belly. Remain calm, Bob. You literally don't even know her.

A soft lull fell over the two of you, both of you trying hard not to let your eyes wash over each other's faces. But there was a distinct longing to continue being in each other's presences, one that you both felt was suddenly intrinsic to you.

But Bob finally cleared his throat and nodded.

"Hope to see you around."

When he said your name again, the skin on the back of your neck prickled. It just sounded right falling out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I hope so, too."

You were a little disappointed that he didn't ask for your number before he wandered up to the register. Logically, you know it's silly. You literally don't even know the guy. But he was so cute and his cheeks were so pink and his lips were so soft looking that your heart felt a little swollen as you continued about the farmer's market, no honey in hand.

You did see each other around: ten minutes later at your favorite pickle stand. Bob fell in step beside you as you inspected a jar of half-sours, humming quietly to yourself.

You were startled, but grinning. He smiled down at you, cheeks pinker than they were before, breaths coming out in short puffs like he'd been hustling to find you (which he had).

"Hey," he breathed, shaking his head softly.

"Hey," you smiled softly. "Fancy seeing you here."

He laughed. God, you were funny. He liked that so much. He liked you so much. You in your pretty dress with your sunglasses on and your hair soft and sweet-smelling. He was an idiot for not asking for your number at the honey stand and had decided, not a moment after paying for the jar of honey you let him have, that he needed to step up and get your information. But you had been gone when he turned around--and not one jar of the vanilla honey had been taken. So, truth be told, he had hustled around trying to find you. And find you he did, your eyebrows furrowed as you inspected a jar of pickles, lips pursed.

And God, you looked fucking beautiful. He knew you were beautiful already. He had also noted you as soon as you'd wandered to the same booth. You had a faint smile on your lips and a little hum in your throat as you moved around wistfully, your hair billowing in the soft breeze. And just after your hands touched for the first time, he swore to God that he smelled flowers. Like some sort of weird fated thing. And to Bob, you looked just as beautiful looking at a jar of pickles than you did reaching for a jar of honey.

"Well, this isn't entirely serendipitous," he admitted, flushing again. He ran a hand through his hair, composing himself, trying to ignore how fucking perfect the color of your dress looked against your skin. "Had to track you down because you forgot..." Bob reaches into his tote bag and retrieves the fateful jar of lavender honey. "This," he finishes with a grin.

He put it in your hands before you even have a chance to tell him that it was his, he paid for it.

"I want you to have it," he told you with a sweet shrug. "But I was hoping that maybe I could buy you some lunch or something. You know, for all the trouble."

You were dithered entirely. God, he was fucking cute. And he had chased you down strictly to give you honey that he paid for and to offer to buy you food. A man after your own heart.

You're not sure what possessed you to do it. But you couldn't help yourself, watching him squint at the sun, his poor blue eyes straining against the brightness. You plucked your spare pair of sunglasses from your tote and slipped them over his eyes. And he's not sure what possessed him to let you, but he did. He didn't even mind that your sunglasses were ultra-feminine and layered on top of his prescription lenses.

And it softened the both of you entirely.

You grinned at each other.

"I could eat," you tell him, sinking your teeth into your lip.

And the rest was pretty much history.

Everything was easy with Bob. Like, really, everything was mind-numbingly easy. Everything clicked into place like it was a magnetized puzzle. You and Bob were a couple that prided themselves on their ability to successfully navigate stressful situations: moving houses, adopting an orphaned rabbit, deployments, IKEA.

What makes it so easy between the two of you is a deep and mutual love for each other. As crazy as you are about Bob, he's crazier for you tenfold. You just thoroughly and completely love each other.

So it's strange that you feel so entirely out of your element right now. You know deep down that everything is going to be just fine, but you're nervous to meet Bob's parents. I mean, the two of you have been together for nearly four years and between deployments and work and all the other shit in adult life, he hasn't found the time to take you back to his hometown.

It's something he's been meaning to do since the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend. He loved his family and considered them to be the most important people in his life, right up there beside you and Pook (your rabbit, obviously).

Bob couldn't be happier right now. His Suzuki is finally getting some dust on it as he drives down the familiar gravel roads leading to his family's farm, the sun is shining, you're sitting in his front seat, and he has an entire week off of work. This is Bob's version of bliss.

Your nerves are getting the best of you. You're usually calmed by Bob's presence alone and usually, you'd be totally open and honest about your nerves. But he's so happy right now--grinning and singing along to the radio, pointing out old stomping grounds, eyes sparkling with nostalgia. You don't want to put a damper on his mood.

So you sit quietly, fiddling with the hem of your dress, rolling the silky material between your fingers. There's a rapid pacing to your pulse right now and you're starting to sweat a little bit--but you're determined to suffer in silence.

You force yourself to take deep breaths when Bob turns down the long, winding drive that leads to the humble little farm house on the hill where he was brought up.

"Home sweet home," Bob sighs, squeezing your hand. He hasn't seemed to notice how clammy your palms are. "Can't wait for you to see my childhood bedroom, honey. It's basically a Star Wars museum."

Any other time, you would laugh. You would tease him. But you just barely manage to smile weakly. This Bob takes notice off immediately.

He squeezes your hand again, suddenly realizing the cold sweat slicking your fingers.

"What's going on, honey?"

You swallow hard, starting to shake your head, but he's peering at you with those earnest blue eyes and fuck--you've never been able to lie to him before. It's not going to start today.

"Just nervous is all," you say quietly, shrugging like it's no big deal.

But he knows you better than that. Of course he does--he's spent every single day of the last four years loving you better than anyone ever has in your life.

He nods, brows furrowing. He feels just a little bit like an asshole now, all giddy and carefree while you're sitting in the passenger seat in a cold sweat.

"I get that," he says earnestly, slowing the car down so you two have more time together, "but I promise that they're gonna love you. Like my mama is gonna be obsessed with you, honey. Promise."

Bob is just someone you always believe. He's never steered you wrong and you doubt he would start right now. You know that his family is going to be good people--how could Bob be such a well-rounded and perfect individual if he had not been raised by the cream of the crop? And Bob loves you so much that you're certain they're gonna have to love you at least a little bit.

"If you say so, Lieutenant," you sigh, sinking further into your seat.

He kisses your knuckles softly, letting his lips linger there as the car rolls to a stop in the driveway.

Your nerves boil over the moment you step over the threshold of his family home. You're overwhelmed for many reasons, the first being that Bob is carrying the luggage and has insisted that you walk into the house ahead of him (damn that gentleman). But you're also overwhelmed with affection and awe just looking at the sweet little farmhouse he grew up in, the one that still seems to stain all his laundry with that sugar-cookie scent.

"Mama, we're home!" Bob calls.

Your heart constricts as Bob lays the luggage down in the entryway and laces his arms around your waist.

And before you even really know what's happening, Bob's mom comes racing from the kitchen with a flowery apron on and flour in her hair, grinning the same grin as her son. And she's hugging you to her tightly like you're old friends, petting your hair, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Oh, sweetheart! It is so good to finally meet you! Bob's been talking our ears off about you for years! You're so beautiful! Can I get you anything? Water? Ice tea? A cookie? I think I have some leftover chicken and dumplings if you're hungry, honey! How as the drive?"

She's holding your biceps as she questions you, not taking a breath or pausing for you to answer even one of her questions. And that is oddly the moment that you know you're going to be okay. She hasn't seen her son in four years and she hugged you first--doing her damndest to make sure you're comfortable in her home.

"Breathe, mama," Bob chuckles, patting her shoulder. "Gonna give yourself an asthma attack!"

Bob's mama, who looks strikingly like Bob with her wavy hair and bright blue eyes and thin lips, just grins at Bob before pulling him into a hug, too.

And just seeing them hold each other, watching a mother love on her son that's been gone for far too long, it makes you feel warm and safe.

"We're so happy you're home," his mother tells him, shaking her head tearfully. "We've missed you so much!"

The rest of the night goes perfectly.

Every minute that you're there, you get more and more comfortable. Bob's mom could talk to a brick wall--she never runs out of questions to ask you and positively drinks in all your answers. She's pleasantly surprised and thoroughly impressed when you help her with the peach cobbler. Even Bob's dad, who is a quieter and meeker man, grows comfortable enough around you by dinnertime to play the harmonica for you around the bonfire.

Bob really comes alive when he's around his parents. No longer is he the shy and reserved man that nurses glasses of water in the corner of the bar--he's the light of their lives and he knows it. You've never seen him treated this way by anyone except you. There's a deep, deep comfort in knowing that you share this with his parents: Bob is your world and everything in it.

"You two love each other," his mother had remarked from across the fire, grinning widely.

Bob had blushed, teasingly rolling his eyes as he held your hand in his, your head resting on his shoulder.

"What gave it away?" You tease.

"Oh, I just like you so much, honey," his mother had said then, laughing. "You gotta come around more often!"

By the end of the first night there, just after two in the morning, you and Bob trudge up the creaky steps with smoke staining your hair and wine sloshing in your bellies.

"So?" Bob asks softly as he closes his bedroom door behind him, smiling as you take in all the endless Star Wars posters lining the walls. "What do you think?"

You're happy--the kind of happy that makes your cheeks ache. You're almost sad that you're only here for a week. This is the kind of place that you could stay forever, you think. All the old pictures and worn furniture and home-cooking--you love it. Being here feels like being the closest to Bob you've ever been and you want to stay in that feeling.

As you trace your fingers across a model of something called the Imperial Class Star Destroyer, you smile. There's not even a speck of dust on it--his mama cares enough to take care of the things he treasures.

"Mmm," you start, sitting on the edge of his twin bed with a tired smile. "I think I'm in love with your parents."

Bob laughs, coming forward to gently cup your cheeks. You lean into him, pressing your face into his smoky shirt, basking in the comfort his fingers invoke in your being as he carefully strokes your hair.

"And they love you right back," he whispers. "Knew they would, honey."

You hum, eyes fluttering shut.

"Let's stay forever," you yawn, cheeks flushed.

Bob's heart is so big right now that he thinks it might explode out of his body. He never thought this would happen ever--the girl of his dreams sitting in his nerdy bedroom and letting her fingernails gently graze the soft skin of his thighs as he holds her close. Quite frankly, he feels like the past four years have been an absolute daydream. But this--this is just perfect.

He says your name softly and you just hum in response, half-asleep sitting up.

"I'm so glad I stole that honey from you," he whispers.

You laugh. He holds you tighter.

"And I'm so glad you found me at the pickle stand."

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HIT ‘EM UP! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

EIGHTEEN: POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME PT. 1.

That night, as the summer breeze kicks off the hoedown, you’re the talk of the party. Who would’ve known a pair of jeans would garner so many stares?

You wanted to fit in with the crowd and look the part for Willow Springs’ annual monthly hoedown, so you ravaged through the clothes your parents bough you and made some minor adjustments to your outfit.

You feel slightly normal and kind of cute in your little denim Levi shorts, cut off at the thigh, and your flannel top that you tied above your naval. The top buttons ae undone to show off a sliver of collarbone and titty, but not enough to come off as trying too hard. You paired the fit with a brown cowgirl hat, matching boots, and a bandana wrapped around your neck.

If you’re not receiving looks from the fellas wondering who the strange, sexy woman is standing in the corner of the room nursing a cup of twisted sweet tea, you get expressions of shock, curiosity, and wariness. Probably because most of the town knows who you are. You figure it would be impossible for them not to realize it being that the town sheriff already knows of you, Geto, and Gojo’s identities.

Speaking of the sheriff, he is here tonight as well as most of Willow Springs’ law enforcement team. He only gave you a friendly nod and raised his glass in greeting an hour ago when you arrived, probably not to alarm you and to put you at ease. 'You won’t be getting arrested tonight.'

The other looks from his team haven’t been as reassuring. They, along with many other of the townsfolk, are less warm. Their eyes cut across you, wariness and suspicion in their gazes that you try hard to ignore. You thought the people of Willow Springs would be as kind as Nanami, but you suppose you can’t blame them. Like you, they also have a negative idea of what an “outlaw” is and what they do.

But it isn’t all bad! You’ve gotten some kind smiles and looks of astonishment too. Just a few minutes ago, you signed a group of kids’ books when they came up to you and asked for your autograph. You never considered yourself a celebrity of sorts, but then again, you guess a famed outlaw would eventually receive some fans. You think of Miwa, the blue-haired cutie in Bull’s Creek, with Gojo and Geto.

Speaking of Gojo and Geto, they haven’t shown up yet (but you wouldn’t think they would). Neither has Nanami as he said he would. It’s been an hour since you arrived and the party is in full swing. Located in a large barn in the middle of town, the wooden interior is decorated in glowing lanterns, tables and chairs, and a bar set up next to a stage where a live band is in full swing.

The sweet, pleasant sounds of a fiddle mingling with a violin fill the air along with the sounds of chatter and stomping boots as people dance and meander throughout the barn, quickly getting drunk and filled up with the baked goods being served outside. The outside is more for the children where dozens of pop-out shops and food vendors, including Yuri’s baked goods, are set up outside along with dancing clowns and animals, such as dogs and goats, for petting.

Eren is at the bar chatting up longtime friends, wearing his own cowboy hat and boots, completely unaware of his daughter having an existential crisis in the corner of the barn. You feel odd standing here all alone, still nursing the same twisted tea that hasn’t gotten you the least bit buzzed yet.

You thought that coming to the hoedown would be relaxing and give you the chance to enjoy your life, but you just find yourself wishing that Geto and Gojo were here.

Luckily, you don’t have to be alone for long. Among the crowd near the open barn doors, you see the attractive, blonde doctor shimmy through the throng of bodies in his own cowboy hat and boots. You sigh, relieved to see someone that you recognize.

“Hey, stranger!” you greet him, waving a hand at him. Nanami cracks a smile once he sees you and makes his way towards you in his blue button-down and jeans. The change of clothing is refreshing to see. “What a surprise! I thought you said you didn’t do social gatherings.”

“I don’t,” he sighs, though he doesn’t look completely downtrodened. “But I did say I’d stop by for a minute.”

Suddenly, two strong-looking hands grasp his shoulders and another fine ass man appears from behind the doctor. He is a brunette with a gorgeous body, his own cowboy hat, and a scar running over his cheek. He talks with a Southern twang that you notice immediately.

“It’ll be more than a minute, Ken!” he scoffs, turning his kind eyes to you. “I had to force him to come here, ya know, even if one of his favorite patients was here!”

He gives you a wink. You turn to a blushing, glaring Nanami, stifling a giggle. “I’m one of your favorite patients?” you ask. The hot brunette immediately covers his mouth. “Oops,” he says. You like him immediately. “U-Uh, I’m Haibara, by the way. Nanami’s best friend and wingman.”

He shoots one calloused hand out for you to shake. “Not by choice,” Nanami mutters.

You laugh and shake his hand, noticing how eager his handshake is. “Nice to meet ya,” you giggle. “I’m–”

“Y/N,” Haibara finishes, a bright grin on his face. “Yeah, I know you! You caused quite the stir when you came through this little town with your gunslinger friends.” He turns this way and that, looking around the room. “Where they at anyhow?”

Nanami meets your eyes, an unreliable expression in them. “Oh, they decided not to come,” you answer. “Parties aren’t usually their thing.” You don’t tell them any more or less than that. You understand Geto’s reluctance towards going out due to their “status”.

“Hm,” Haibara exhales, only looking slightly disappointed. He gives your arm a friendly squeeze, practically shoving Nanami’s ass out of the way. “Well, we’ll entertain you for the night!” he laughs. “I’ll get us all some drinks. You like whiskey?” You eagerly nod, needing something stronger. “Absolutely!”

Haibara’s eyes light up at the fact that you’re a whiskey girl. “Just a beer for me,” Nanami says before his friend dances away. You turn to him, smirking. “You really didn’t have to come,” you chuckle. “You look like you’re about a second away from shootin’ yourself.”

Nanami chuckles, wiping his nose. A nervous tick. “Well, I’ve always avoided these celebrations and have for years now.” He pauses, sighing. “But I realized that many people want to see me, so I decided to show my face to represent my community…plus, my entire infirmary staff is here and I can’t work without them.”

“Those are reasons if I ain’t heard any before,” you giggle, putting your lukewarm tea on a nearby table. “Plus, you get to have plenty of my mama’s baked goods if the townsfolk don’t get them first.”

You forced your mama to save you some lemon tarts and white chocolate, raspberry bars, but that might be a stretch since her baking sells out like hot cakes at celebrations. Nanami chuckles again and his eyes stroll down to your feet. “I’m glad to see you up and around in boots now,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased. “They look…nice.”

He looks so bashful and painfully awkward saying it that you almost laugh. You smile, about to thank him, when Haibara returns carefully holding three jars, the beer between the two whiskeys. “I’m back!” he announces. “Got a boring ol’ beer for Kenny and some caramel flavored Jack Daniels for you.”

He passes you your drink and you take a sip, immediately shivering at the taste of smokey carmel mixed with the whiskey. “Mmmm!” you hum. “This is delicious! When did they come out with this? Wait…did you call him ‘Kenny’”?”

Nanami looks like he wants to melt into the floor as he sips his beer. “It’s an old childhood nickname,” he begrudgingly explains. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten.”

Haibara claps the doctor on the back. “Yep!” he proudly announces. “But unlike the doctor here, I didn’t take the medical route. I’m a firefighter.” You playfully hum into your jar and bat your lashes at them. “Wow, a doctor and a firefighter. My mama would tell me to marry y’all both!”

“Sorry, who’s gettin’ married?” a very familiar voice suddenly asks from behind you. You turn around and nearly drop your drink when you lock eyes with enchanting blue ones from over the rim of sunglasses.

Gojo stands behind you wearing a white tee and jeans that look illegally tight on him and a leather jacket that he fills out nicely along with his usual white cowboy hat and boots. In contrast to his partner, Geo is wearing plaid red flannel slightly unbuttoned to show off a sliver of chest, black jeans, and brown boots. He let his hair free tonight, letting it flow feely down his back like a long, black river. They also both ditched their riding gloves so you can see their knuckle tatts and Geto’s fingers.

You feel as if the wind has been knocked out of you as you stare at them like they’re ghosts who’ve come to haun you. “O-Oh,” you stammer. “Y-You’re…what are you doin’ here?”

Gojo smirks humorously at your stunned reaction. “Well, we were invited,” he chuckles. “Just as a lot of people were, I’m seein’.” He turns to Nanami who doesn’t so much as grimance his way. “Nanami!” he loudly says. “Nice to see you, man! You finally put down the white coat for once!”

The doctor side-eyes the outlaw as he sips on his beer. “Not willingly.” He doesn’t even offer the men a handshake! Quickly, you try to find a way to ease the growing tension. “Haibara, this is—“

“Oh, I know,” the firefighter says, sticking a hand out to both men, opposite of Nanami. “The pleasure’s all mine. You two do great things around the parts of the West. Respect.” Gojo gladly shakes Haibara’s hand, glad to have praise. “Thanks, man! All in a day’s work.”

Haibara shakes Geto’s hand too before noticing that a bartender is setting up a wooden tray of shot glasses. “Oh, they’re settin’ up shots! Ken, help me get some for the crew!”

He quickly drags Nanami away with his beer, allowing you to sigh in relief. You for sure thought that someone was going to end up drawing their gun. Geto brings you back down to Earth when he taps his boo lightly with yours. “Glad to see that ankle is better. Nice boots.”

He gives you an easy, kind smile that matches Gojo’s and suddenly, you feel at ease. “So what brings y’all out and about? I thought y’all were tryin’ to lay low,” you wonder aloud.

Geto side-eyes Gojo who only smiles in response. “Well, this one swore he’d go alone, so I had to go with him to make sure he doesn’t run into no trouble.” The white-haired outlaw scoffs. “Where’s the trouble?” he asks. “I don’t see nothing…except you, maybe.” He draws his sunglasses down his nose, his blue eyes flirtatious and filled with mirth.

“Me?” you scoff, pressing a hand to your chest as you play into his game. “I’m the trouble?” Gojo’s eyes drift down to your legs and little cut-off shorts. “Well, we ain’t the ones with our thighs out tonight, are we, sugar?” His tone is saccharine and flirty, his voice and words touching you where his hands won’t.

Geto mistakes your wordless reaction for discomfort and nudges Gojo in the side. “Satoru, come on,” he critically says. “You look good, Y/N. He’s just tryin’ to tease you.” You sip your drink to give you time to collect your next response, letting the whiskey take over. “Oh, I know,” you say in a very seductive voice that neither of them except, “but he can’t. He’d be lucky to get a piece of this.”

You run a hand over your side as if to smoothen out your clothes, but the duo follow your fingers, drinking in your figure. You’re aware that this is very dangerous territory that you’re walking into, but the whiskey and thrill make you reckless. What’s a little bit of harmless flirting between friends?

Gojo’s eyebrows raise, pleasantly surprised. “Oh?” he asks with a chuckle. “You’re bold. What, is it ‘cause of whatever’s in that cup?” You shrug, taking another sip of your jar. “Haibara got me whiskey. Want a taste?”

You pass the jar to Gojo who takes a sip and whistles. He passes it to Geto who takes a sniff and winces. “Damn,” he coughs. “He’s either tryin’ to kill you or get your clothes off.”

He takes a sip anyway and hums at the sugary sweet taste of the caramel despite your scowl. “What?!” you scoff. “C’mon, stop. He’s Nanami’s friend!” You snatch the jar away and cradle it to your chest.

“Then he’s tryin’ to loosen you up for the doc!” Gojo laughs. “C’mon, you’re tellin’ you never noticed the man starin’ you down like he doesn’t wanna knock those cowgirl boots?”

The two snigger to themselves while you roll you eyes. They can’t be serious about this. Though Nanami is sweet, handsome, and intelligent, you know a relationship with a man like him wouldn’t last with a girl like you. “No, Nanami is just my friend AND my doctor. Besides, it would never work.”

“What would never work?” he asks, suddenly standing behind you while Haibara holds a tray of shots filled wih whiskey and tequila.

You squeak, immediately going hot in the face. “Nothing!” Gojo says. “Y/N was just talkin’ shit about our pool skills. She swears up and down that she can beat all of us.” He smirks at you, knowing damn well he just saved your ass. The bastard.

Haibara’s brows raise in interest. “Oh, really? I happen to be an expert pool player.” He gives you a wink as he walks over to the empty pool table a foot away from you with the shots. Geto follows him, brushing against you as he does. “Me too. Never lost a game.”

Gojo’s smile grows as he wanders over to the pool table, his long fingers caressing the table. “Well, then let’s put that to the test. Nanami, you in?”

The doctor looks slightly hesitant about the idea. “Pool plus alcohol has a tendency to go very, very badly….but it is a celebration.” He grabs a pool stick from Haibara and turns to you, concerned. “Are you okay to play?”

The other three men look at you, all expecting an answer. Though you feel cornered, the whiskey kicking in makes you feel confident enough to agree. “Yeah,” you say and take a pool stick. “Let’s see what you four got. Winner gets the last piece of my mom’s lemon tart.”

You eye the Gunslingers who look thrilled at your agreement. “You’re on,” Gojo says and passes you a shot glass. All five of you clink glasses before downing your shots in one shared gulp. Haibara steps aside, letting you have the first round. “Ladies first.” But you shake your head, leaning against the table. “Nuh-uh. You go first, Haibara, since you’re an expert.”

Nanami chuckles quietly at this. Though Haibara blushes, he goes anyway and leans over the table with his stick held between both hands in different places on the stick. He aims at a red ball and shoots once. The ball rolls against the table and falls it into a pocket, making a clattering noise as it does. Haibara fist bumps, overjoyed.

“Your turn, Geto,” you say, turning to the gunslinger. He nods and moves his big body next to yours to lean over the table, aiming for one green and one yellow. You watch him focus on the balls, the stick barely moving in his hands until he shoots. One hits against the other, causing both to fall into the nearest pocket. “You’re next, little miss,” he announces, giving you a smug look.

You purse your lips and ready your stick, leaning over the table’s edge as the others did. Geto sniggers beside you and you scowl up at him. “Wrong stance,” he chuckles. “Try angling your hips.” He suddenly appears behind you and places his big, warm hands on your waist. He angles them back while your knee juts forward, holding your weight.

When he drops his hands, he doesn’t move away from you, making it very hard to focus on anything but the smell of him. Swallowing roughly, you try to focus on the blue ball in front of you. Aim…and shoot! The tip of your stick hits the ball and slowly rolls across the table before falling into a pocket. “Good,” Geto coos.

Gojo hurumphs, sitting on the far right of the table’s edge. “Beginner’s luck.” You slowly lean up, giving the men a view of your body in slow motion. “Someone’s bitter,” you sing, sauntering over to him.

He sits there with his shot midway to his lips, but he’s too busy looking at you to take a sip. “Guess you’re not as good as you thought you were, cowboy,” you tease, your voice sultry and soft.

The outlaw pulls his shades down to show his blue eyes and you realize your mistake. Now the game has taken a new direction, especially when the drinks continue to flow. It becomes easier to fool around with four hot guys and not worry about how you look or feel with Geto and Gojo in the room.

As you drink, the whiskey and tequila take you on a ride. You feel more confident and boisterous, joking around with the fellas and talking shit as you take your turn. You become more playful with Gojo too, shoving at him when he scoots into your spot or bumping your hip with his when he’s too close.

After a half an hour of playtime, Gojo has got the most hits. “That lemon tart is almost mine, losers!” he cackles. “Have fun eatin’ this loss!”

“You’re cheatin’!” you shout from your spot sitting on the edge of the table. “Geto, tell him to stop movin’ around like that!” Geto just laughs, lighting a cigarette that he looks way too yummy doing. The more you drink, the more you find that you’re interested in everything the Gunslingers do. That’s a problem.

Haibara stands with Nanami, his chin on his fists as he leans against his stick. “No offense, Y/N, but the stakes ain’t too high with this game. I mean, your mom’s cookin’ is to die for, but I think the prize needs to be a little more…dramatic.” He looks at you, unsure of whether you’ll take this well or not.

“Y’know, he has a point,” Gojo says after downing a shot. He is flush in the face, cutely so, and his sunglasses are slipping off. “Maybe we should kick this game up a notch.” He gives you and Geto a smirk.

Nanami glares at him, perturbed by the idea. “How?” he scoffs. “We’ve already got enough alcohol for that.” He turns to you, concern laced in his expression and cheeks red from the alcohol. “Don’t let them make you feel pressured to—“

“How ‘bout a dance then, fellas?” you ask, the suggestion sounding way more seductive than it should. All four men stare at you, shocked by your quick draw suggestion. You’re just as shocked at yourself. You have no idea where that came from….but you run with it anyway. “Whoever wins gets to pick someone among the losers to dance with them the entire night.”

You slip off of the table and lean a hip against it, not even realizing how sexy your pose is. “Well, Nanami doesn’t dance,” Haibara chuckles, winking at his friend. “But he might for you.” Nanami scoffs, looking away from his friend as he sips on his beer. “Definitely not.”

Gojo plays with a red ball, spinning it around his fingers with one hand without dropping it. “You not game then, Nanami?” he chuckles, raising a brow at the doctor. “That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind having a dance with this one.” He nods your way, giving you a smile that makes butterflies appear in your stomach.

You can’t tell if he’s just joking or trying to ruffle Nanami’s feathers, but it works. The doctor begrudgingly forces Haibara to hold his beer and steps to the table with his stick. “I’ll go first,” he growls under his breath. He leans over the table across from you, aiming for two green balls in a straight line. He is careful to line himself up before shooting.

Unfortunately, he miscalculates. One of the green 8-balls hits the wall of the table and stays put while the other falls into a pocket. “Dammit,” he swears.

Gojo hisses. “Oooh, better luck next time, buddy.” Nanami grits his teeth so hard that you’re scared he’ll grind them down to nothing.

“My turn!” Haibara announces, shoving his friend out of the way. He takes his hit as well, aiming for three 8-balls, but neither one of them disappear into a pocket. “Well, I guess that’s the Universe tellin’ me I can’t dance,” he sheepishly laughs.

“Oh, Dr. Nanami!” a voice suddenly wails over the music. You turn to see a frail woman in a floral dress and sun hat racing over to Nanami’s side. He bends down to hear her better and listen to her frantic words before motioning Haibara over. The brunette walks the woman outside before Nanami puts up his and Haibara’s cues.

“Hey, where you guys goin’?” You ask, confused.

“Kid outside got a scraped knee and the mom came runnin’ to get me.” He nods at the Gunslingers before tipping his hat at you. “You finish playing.”

You can’t quite make out what the frown on his face means before he leaves the party. You can’t help but feel like maybe he is glad to leave…and it has nothing to do with the party and way more to do with the Gunslingers. You don’t understand. Does he dislike Geto and Gojo?

Gojo sighs, leaning against his cue. “And then there were three.” He comes over and bumps his narrow hip with yours, earning your attention. “Is that dance still on the table, little lady?” A lazy smirk stretches across his pink lips. Geto looks over at you from his spot smoking his cig, just as interested in your answer.

Having their eyes on you causes delicious tingles to shudder throughout your body. It’s just the alcohol doing that though. Just the alcohol. “Maybe,” you hum, taking an 8-ball into one hand. “If you can beat me fair and square.”

You toss the ball Geto’s way and he catches it in both of his big hands, his cig hanging out of his mouth. Gojo takes the cig between his fingers and takes a puff, smoke billowing from his soft-looking lips. “Mmm, I dunno,” he drawls. “I still think the stakes should be a little bit higher. Make it spicier.”

Geto rolls his eyes but he doesn’t object. You scoff the white-haired hottie. “Fine, you choose your prize then. I’m stickin’ with a dance.”

“Me too,” Geto agrees and shrugs when Gojo shoots him a scowl. “Fine then,” Gojo huffs. “If I win, I get to choose one of the losers for a kiss.” Geto snorts, placing the 8-ball back onto the table. “I’m shocked you didn’t say both losers, you glutton.”

Gojo turns to you, a smile playing on his juicy lips. “You game, little miss?” he expectantly asks.

You should say no. You should even criticize him for picking such a prize. Does he mean a kiss on the cheek? Either way, it’s so dangerous. Though nothing has happened yet, you can’t trust yourself when you’re drunk. Even now, your confidence is making you want to grab the hottest guy in here and ask him to spend the night with you.

Unfortunately, the hottest guy in here is split in two: Geto and Gojo. You take another sip of your Jack Daniels which is a bad idea because it coaxes you to give into the danger and say yes. ‘What’s the harm?’ You think. ‘It’s just a game. Nothing more, nothing less. And we’re just friends.’

“Fine,” you say, firmly pursing your lips. “But you’re not gonna win this. Now line ‘em up.” You tap your cue demandingly against the pool table, causing the men to laugh. They like it when you’re bossy.

Since two players left, you end up going first. As Geto and Gojo lean up against the left side of the table, you decide to take your chances over there and distract them a bit. No shame in flexing your strategic playing, right?

You shimmy between the two, your eyes locked on three 8-balls lined up in a row. There are eight left in total. You slide between Geto to get a better reach. “Pardon,” you say, slipping in front of him to take your turn.

When you bend over the table, you hear Geto take a sharp intake of breath and suddenly, the music and chatter from the party sounds farther away. You’re too focused on how close he is and how you can feel his belt buckle against your back.

You’re also aware that he and Gojo are possibly staring at your ass. The idea of that excites you more than you’d like.

You finally take a hit at the balls and put the rest into God’s hands. He doesn’t forsake you. You watch as all three balls fall into a pocket, one after the other. You turn around to face Geto and he’s so close and so big that you have to lean back to see him. “Hope you’re not a sore loser,” you giggle.

The outlaw smirks down at you, leaning an arm over the table edge to trap you between him and the pool table. “You should be askin’ yourself that, cutie.”

His voice is silky and smooth, caressing your ears and a forbidden part of you that is already throbbing at him being so near. And his smell! You can’t get enough of it. It’s spicy yet earthly like cinnamon mixed with pine trees. How would that smell be if it stained your sheets?

Feeling like you’re walking into a dangerous place, you slide out from in front of him, allowing him his shot. He successfully aims and shoots at two red balls, but doesn’t count on getting the cue ball.

You and Gojo physically cringe at the sight of the white ball falling into a pocket. “Dammit,” Geto swears, disappointed.

“And then there were two!” Gojo cackles, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders to loosen himself up. “Get them lips ready, little miss.”

You scoff, fixing him with a look. “You should be gettin’ them feet ready, cowboy,” you shoot back.

The two of you go head to head, sizing each other up with looks across the table. With three balls left, Gojo aims for all three. He is careful and slow as he aims at them, his cue as straight as a line. One 8-ball knocks against the other like dominos and begin rolling against the table.

“C’moooon,” he begs, folding his hands into a prayer. One ball falls into a pocket, but the other two careen against the wall.

You race to take your turn, taking your sweet time lining yourself up. Without even thinking, you aim at one ball and watch as it slowly rolls into the other. Suddenly, the two are falling together into a pocket and the table is empty.

“Yes!” You whoop, raising your arms in victory. You jump up and down, not even aware that your tits jump with you. “I win, I win, I win! Get on that dance floor, fellas!”

You begin to move to the fiddle playing on the stage that is followed by a cheery piano. The Gunslingers look at each other, confused. “Fellas? Plural?” Gojo asks. “Didn’t you say you’d choose ONE of the losers to dance with you?”

You cock your head at him, giving him a sharp eye. “Yes, but you’re not doin’ nothin’ except standin’ there with a cigarette in your mouth.” Gojo makes a point to hold Geto’s cigarette between his index and forefingers as he hollows his cheeks. The smoke-formed O that leaves his lips seems almost erotic to you.

Geto gives you a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Sorry to break it to ya, darlin’, but I don’t dance,” he sighs. “And this one don’t know how to dance.” He gives Gojo a knowing look. “Can’t we just watch you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Although the idea of them watching you move on the dance floor is thrilling to you, you’re not going to give up so easily. You place your cue on the table and jut your hip out as you cross your arms over your chest. “Fine,” you scoff. “But don’t complain when I find somebody else to dance with.”

You then saunter up to Gojo and pluck his cigarette out of his mouth. Both men watch you, stunned and entranced, as you take a slow drag of it. You hollow your cheeks and quickly blow the smoke out from between your O-shaped lips in a steady stream.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” you exhale through the smoke, “I’m gonna go find me a dance partner.”

You pass the cigarette back to an aroused Geto and walk off to find your dance for the night.

[that-one-rat-in-the-cupboard]

Blue=Sally Face/Sal

Pink=Lyra/Lizzy

White=Claire(interviewer)

Orange=Larry

Green=Travis

Red=Jake/Sal's cellmate I made up

Italicized=Past

_______________________

The Interview

[Exclusive Cut]

_______________________

You spoke with a great fondness about your friend, Ashley. I understand that you two were very close. You even considered her one of your best friends, along with Larry Johnson and Todd Morrison, is that true?

…Yes…

Have you seen this?

Claire shows Sal a newspaper. Part of one of the articles is circled in red ink: ‘Prosecutor will call Ashely Cambell to testify against The Sally Face Killer.’ A single tear from Sal falls on the paper. Sal crushes the paper.

Many people are curious, was there anything more between you and Ashley? A romantic relationship, perhaps?

No. Ash was just a close friend. I was interested in someone else…

And who would that be? Could you tell us about them?

Lyra Roxley…We always called her Lizzy.

Last I heard you haven’t mentioned anyone by that name in any police interviews.

She wasn’t around enough for it to matter.

Did she know about the supposed cult? Or about the ‘bologna incident’, as you referred to it?

…Yes. She knew. She knew everything. She left all that to Todd, Larry, Ash, and me, though. We would tell her about it, but she never actually tried investigating it herself.

Can you tell me more about her? When did you two meet? How did you meet? What was she like?

We met in junior year of high school…

“Fuck! I’m gonna be late!”

She was always breaking one rule or another. Whether it was speeding through the school halls on rollerblades or not following the dress code, she seemed to break every rule there was aside from blowing up the school within her first week. I think about the moment we met every day…

“Woah-shit!”

Travis had tripped her while she was rollerblading through the halls. She crashed right into me. I remember watching her flip off Travis before making sure I was alright. I didn’t hear anything she said at first, it was all a blur, and not because she had just crashed into me.

“Hellooo! Dude, you good?”

Her eyes were black, not a really dark brown, straight black. Her hair was unruly, had a mind of its own and moved however it wanted, even if she was sitting still. She had naturally blonde hair, but she dyed the back black and bleached the front. She always had two raccoon tails on either side of her fac-

I’m sorry, raccoon tails?

They weren’t real raccoon tails. She dyed lines of black into large sections of hair next to her face. She always called them raccoon tails and I picked up on the habit.

Ah, I see. Go on.

Right. She wore these big, round, wire-framed glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they should’ve, but in a cute way. She had a couple of piercings; a septum nose ring with spikes on it, a lip ring on each side of her bottom lip with spikes on them, and a double eyebrow piercing. She always had bags under her eyes, but her energy never matched them.

“Woah, dude. What happened here?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I turned my room into one big booby trap and now I can’t move… Wanna spend the next three hours trying to disarm it so I don’t blow up the apartments?”

She always dressed up for anything, even if she was just staying home. Her entire wardrobe was just black and red. Maybe a few denim jackets or vests, but they were mainly covered in patches she made or metal spikes she painted. All her pants were ripped and I don’t think I ever saw her in a shirt that didn’t have at least one hole in it. No matter what she wore, she always had this one light grey beanie on. For some reason, everyone in our little friend group wanted to steal it. No one ever could.

Larry peaked over the armrest of his couch, staring intently into the kitchen to make sure Lyra had her back turned before he executed the perfect plan. He signaled to Sally, who was waiting in his doorway for said signal, and the blue-haired boy immediately left the room, walking right to the kitchen.

“Hey, Lizzy?”

“Yeah, Sally Face?”

“Can you grab me a glass? Larry always puts them too high for me to reach to fuck with me.”

“Hehe, sure.”

As Lyra turned her back to reach into the cabinet and grab the glass, Sal signaled to Larry. Instantly, Larry leaped out from the behind the couch and raced over to Lyra, snatching the beanie off of her head…only for another one to be pinned to her hair underneath. She whipped around and faced Larry, pointing an accusing finger at him with a bright, ecstatic expression on her face.

“HA! I knew it! You can’t beat me Lar-Bar!”

Did you ever find out why she wore it?

…

Sal?

She was strong, too. Not physically. More like mentally. Some of the things she told me from her childhood…I still don’t understand how she survived it all. I can’t count the number of times she was beaten up by Travis and his gang. Yet, somehow, every time she just got back up and went on with her day. Larry always said she was a different person during the fights. I never believed him. Not until I witnessed one of the fights myself…

“Hey, freak! Why don’t you run on back to hell and leave us all alone!”

“Dude, I’m just standing here. Am I not allowed to just stand?”

“You got a problem, freak?”

“Yes, several. Would you like me to list off the mental ones or the physical ones first?”

“Lizzy, just leave it be. He won’t-”

“I got this, Sal. Don’t worry about me.”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me!?”

“Didn’t you just say you wanted me to leave you alone? Geeze, dude. Get your priorities straight.”

“Why, you-!”

Lyra wasn’t expecting the first hit, but that didn’t stop her from staying on her feet. Her hand slowly rose to her nose, feeling just beneath it as the blood began to flow. She pulled her hand away and started at the blood on her fingers. Then her eyes met Travis’ and a sinister smile grew on her chapped lips.

“You wanna dance, pretty boy? Let’s fuckin’ dance.”

So, you’re claiming she enjoyed the fights? That, perhaps, she sought them out on purpose?

She never sought them out on purpose, but if it seemed like one was about to start, she wouldn’t do anything to stop it. She definitely enjoyed them, though. She would smile and laugh like a maniac during them. At first, other people would laugh at her, too, mocking her. But the longer the fights went on, the more people realized that she wasn’t laughing to ease her nerves or act all confident. No, she was laughing because she liked it.

Liked what?

The pain. During the fights, she would lick the blood off her face, didn’t matter if it was her’s or the other person’s. She reveled in the fights. She didn’t even seem to notice there was ever a crowd. I’m pretty sure that from her perspective, it was just her and her opponent.

What did she do if someone else got into a fight?

Depends on who it was. If it was people she didn’t know or didn’t care for, she didn’t bother joining or even crowding around it like the other kids did. If it was one of her friends, like Ash, Todd, Larry, or me, she’d go batshit if she had to.

She was defensive of all of you?

Yes. Very.

Do you know why?

No. She always avoided the question when any of us asked. We tried telling her not to worry about us, that we can hold our own, but she always said-

“No…Not against this…”

-and we never knew what she meant. She was always quiet when she said it. It felt like the air around us dropped to freezing and like we were being suffocated. She always left shortly after those interactions, making up an excuse she knew we wouldn’t believe, but we knew better than to ask. The suffocating feeling and the cold would go away a few seconds after she left.

Can you tell me more about your relationship with her?

I guess. There’s not much to talk about. We became friends in junior year and remained friends for a few years. She had told me she loved me on the night of the…incident.

Lyra couldn’t stop biting her nails, picking away at the black polish. She had been video chatting with a friend from her old town when she told them about her years-long crush on Sal. They had convinced her to confess to him, and so she threw on her skates, kissed her dogs and cats goodbye, and started towards Addison Apartments. However, in her excitement to finally confess, she never thought about how she would confess. That resulted in her stalling for a long time, going so slow on her skates that the sun had fully set and the moon had taken over the sky. Still, before she knew it, she was on the sidewalk leading up to Addison Apartments. Sal was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and horrified as he stared at her, blood on his clothes and the weapon in hand.

Sal…?

You didn’t respond?

How could I? I didn’t have time to explain to her. The police were nearly there. She ran once she realized where the sirens were headed.

If all she said was your name, how do you know she was going to confess?

Um…she dropped a note when she ran. I had just enough time to look down at my feet where it had fallen and read it before I was arrested.

What did it say?

I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember one line. ‘I swear on my life and the River Styx, you are my Sun, and I am Icarus’.

Where is she now? Do you know?

…

Sal?

…

Mr. Fisher, can you answer the question? Where is sh-

She’s dead.

…

…Are we done here? I believe I have a trial to get to.

Yes. We are done here.

——————

So…

What, Jake?

How did it actually go down?

How did what actually go down?

That girl you talked about in the interview. How did she really confess.

How do you know about that?

They aired it after your trial. Todney convinced the guards to let us watch it. So, what really happened that night.

If you saw the interview, then why are you asking?

Because you lied.

…

Don’t try denying it. You said she wasn’t prepared to see you when she left, but she somehow had a love letter with her that she just so happened to drop at your feet even though she was at the very end of the sidewalk?

…

I doubt she’s dead, either. You hesitated before saying that, but not in a ‘I don’t want to face this again’ way. You hesitated in a ‘fuck, I need to think of a lie fast’ way. So tell me. What really happened that night?

…

Come on, Sally. We’re alone in our cell and I’ve got a life sentence. No guards, no cameras, no one to spill this to the news. So tell me. What happened?

…She didn’t confess to me that night. She knew what I was going to do and was trying to stop me in time. She was going to do it herself but she was too late. She tried to stay with me, but I wouldn’t let her stay. I told her to run. To leave me and never look back. That’s when she hugged me and said the Icarus thing.

So you guys already knew you liked each other before then? Were you like, partners in crime or something?

Heh, funny you say that. We used to have this thing we’d say all the time, just us. One of us would say-

“Partners in crime-”

And then the other would say-

“And trouble til the end!”

That’s adorable. It makes me want to throw up. So, if she didn’t confess that night, when did she?

That’s a bit of a long story…

And we got nothing but time.

You won’t believe me.

Who has up to this point?

…It happened during the last week of our senior year of high school. It was her, Larry, and me all in Larry’s room. We were hanging out for a while, but we were all very tense about finals and having to study and what we were going to do after school was over, there was just a lot of stress and nowhere for it to go. Larry had tried stealing her beanie again…

“Come on, dude! We don’t care if your hair is all messed up, just let me see!”

We had all been drinking, especially Larry, so we were all a bit more on edge than we would have been otherwise, and I think that’s why things ended up the way they did…

“Larry, stop! You don’t do this shit to Sal!”

“This is just your hair! Why won’t you let anyone see!?”

“Larry, dude, chill ou-”

“No! Since the moment we met her she’s been hiding it from us! What if it’s something to do with that stupid cult? What if she’s got a mic under there or some shit!?”

“Larry! You can’t just accuse her of-”

“You can’t just defend her because you’re in love with her!”

“Larry!”

“I don’t care! I’m done with this cult shit! I’m done with all of it! I’m getting to the bottom of it and if that means outing Lizzy as a spy, then damnit I will!”

“Larry, wait-!”

“Dude, stop!”

Lyra wasn’t quick enough to dodge, and the next thing everyone knew, her beanie was in Larry’s hand. The lights flickered and the CD that had once been playing music began spewing static. Larry’s feet were glued to the floor as he looked around frantically. The small bit of sun peeking through the curtains was washed out by swirling dark figures. Sal began to panic and backed into a corner as the figures engulfed Lyra. Larry stared on in horror, immediately sobering up as he saw the shadowy figures swirl around her. It was only when one zipped past him toward her that he was knocked out of his shock and started frantically stumbling backward, tripping over an empty canvas and joining Sal in the corner. Just as fast as it had started, it ended. The lights flickered on, the shadows dispersed, and there was Lyra, all the same…almost. Shadows shifted and danced over her head and behind her. The ones over her eyes wrapped around her head and resembled bandages. The ones over her mouth formed an ‘X’. The ones over her ears looked like scribbles you may see in a notebook. The ones on her back looked like four sets of wings, two smaller sets under the biggest ones and the smallest set right above the big ones. There was also a long, whip-like tail that trailed from behind her.

Woah, woah, woah. I thought that demon dude was a guy. And you said there was only one of him!

There is. If you let me finish the story it’ll make sense. Hopefully.

Okay, okay, fine. Keep going with your little fairytale.

Everyone was frozen in place, all out of fear. Lyra knew this was bound to happen, she just hoped it never would.

“L…Lizzy?”

She couldn’t say a word. So instead she jumped up from her spot on the floor and ran. Larry tried going after her, but when he left his room and saw a completely empty living room, and no doors left open that Lyra could have ran through, he started to panic.

“Fuck, man. This isn’t good. What do we do!? She just disappeared!”

“I-I don’t know! Where do you think she would’ve gone?”

“She always said Wendigo Lake calmed her down when she was stressed. Said she liked to swim there when it was nighttime.”

“It’s still light out, but it will be getting dark soon. You go check there and I’ll check the apartments. I doubt she left town.”

“Oh god, what have I done? Why couldn’t I have just left her alone!?”

“Worry about that later, Larry. We need to find her first and make sure she’s okay.”

“Right. Find her first…I hope that’s soon…”

We looked for her for hours, but couldn’t find her. We were so tired by the end of it that we just ended up crashing in Larry’s room together, hoping we’d find her the next day. Larry was out the moment his head hit the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was too worried about Lizzy. I needed to know where she went, if she was okay. I ended up going outside for a breath of fresh air. I was out there for maybe five minutes before I heard crying coming from the tree house Larry and I hung out in all the time. So I climbed up into it and…

“Lizzy?”

“Ah! S-Sally! I-I-fuck! You can’t see me like-I-I need to-”

“Don’t leave! …Please, don’t leave.”

“But…aren’t you mad? Don’t you want me to leave? I look like…him after all…”

“I don’t care about that right now. I just want to make sure you’re okay…”

“...”

“Lizzie?”

“I’m okay, Sally. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Um, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“It was your’s and Larry’s treehouse before I came along. Do whatever you like.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry…For what happened earlier.”

“What?”

“You know, the flickering lights and the CD static?”

“Oh, that…”

“Yeah…that…”

“What was that?”

“...The beanie I wear has a sealing and protection combination rune embroidered on the inside of it. As long as I’m wearing it, it hides the…shadowy parts of me…That’s what happens when it’s taken off unexpectedly…”

“...”

“I know you want to ask me, Sal. It’s okay. You can ask.”

“Are…are you related to the Red Eyed Demon?”

“Yes.”

“...”

“I’m his daughter. I was conceived after he became the demon. The cult had offered him one of their women so he could have an heir. When I was born with no physical signs of being a demon, he abandoned me and killed my mother. He didn’t care what happened to me, so the cultists shoved me into the arms of another cultist, a man named Taylor. He became my adoptive father and left the cult not even a few months later. We were on the run most of my life, but we didn’t have a choice… He died a week before I moved here. He had made the beanie for me when I turned ten and started to develop the shadows. I only had to wear it in public. When we were alone, I could have it off as much as I wanted. He made sure that I wouldn’t be ashamed of the shadows, but he also made sure I understood where I inherited them from, and why I had to hide them…”

“So…Your father is…the Red Eyed Demon.”

“...”

“...”

“...It was amazing knowing you, Sally. I’ll miss you a lot.”

“W-what? What are you talking about, you’re leaving?”

“Huh? No. I just…you don’t want to be around me anymore, right? I’m directly related to the very thing you have been trying to take down since you moved here four years ago! There’s no way you’d want to be around me anymore! …right?”

“Lizzy, I love you. You obviously don’t want your father to take over the earth. If you did you would have killed me and Larry and Ash and Todd and anyone trying to stop him by now. I trust you, Lizzy. You’ve stayed with us and believed us since you met us. Do you know how liberating it was to finally have someone believe us without needing proof? Though, now I get why you didn’t need any proof…”

“You love me?”

“Uh…ah, yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“...”

“I understand if you don’t like me back. I mean, who in their right mind would?”

“...”

“It’s not like I’m like Larry. Muscular, handsome, normal…”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Say something, damnit.”

“I love you, too.”

“...”

“Can I kiss you?”

“...Yes.”

So, this demon dude you keep talking about, that you want to kill, not only has a daughter, but you fell in love with said daughter?

In my defense, I didn’t know she was his daughter until after I realized I loved her.

Still, dating the daughter of a demon you want to kill is probably the biggest ‘fuck you’ you could give to the universe.

Maybe, but all I cared about at the time was finishing school. The cult had kind of gone to the background of my mind for the time being.

Hm…Question.

Shoot.

Why are you suddenly so willing to talk about this chick when you haven’t mentioned her at all til the interview?

I was just sentenced to death row. I’ve got nothing to lose. No one but the people that were there for it believe me. I doubt anyone will believe this, even if you tell anyone.

You don’t know that.

Do you believe me?

…

Exactly.

————————

[itzynabi]

la@itzy episode 1

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mention of food and i think that's it

an: gif is mine. the photos aren't mine but the collage is. i hope you enjoy this guys! eve’s outfit can be found at the bottom. words in [] are captions and words in bold are english. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated

eve's masterlist

Eve was sitting next to Yuna and Chaeryeong in the car. “The sun is really…” she said, squinting her eyes. Yuna turned to her and laughed gleefully. “I can’t see anything!”

“The weather is really nice,” Chaeryeong commented.

“Really?” Eve questioned. “I wouldn’t know.”

The next day, Eve walked into Lia and Ryujin’s room as the former girl was showing MIDZY’s her outfit.

“What’s going on here?” She asked, going to sit on the bed.

“I’m showing off my outfit,” Ryujin explained. Eve nodded and wrapped her arms around Chaeryeong.

“Unnie, show your outfit,” Lia instructed.

“Okay.” Eve stood up and let Lia film her. “Don’t forget my jewellery.”

[Yellow ruched top, blue denim shorts, red lips

Evelyn’s look

#cute_chick_]

“You look really cute. What’s going on?” Ryujin asked with her hand over her mouth. Eve rolled her eyes and didn’t answer.

The girls left the hotel and Lia introduces Yuna as Hussey, Chaeryeong as Serena and herself as Julia. She also introduced her vlog.

“I keep forgetting your full name is Julia.” she giggled.

Lia fake gasped. “Evelyn! That’s a no, no.” Both girls laughed and they all continued walking.

“We have to take many pictures,” Chaeryeong said.

“Unnie, did you bring your camera?” Yeji asked Eve, who nodded in response and patted her bag.

At the traffic light, the girls stopped walking, waiting for the light to turn green.

“Since Ryujin is changing our names, we should also change hers,” Eve said.

“Brenda,” Lia suggested, much to her members’ amusement.

“Gina,” Eve said.

“No. Joanne,” Ryujin whined.

“Let’s split into two teams,” Chaeryeong suggested once they got to the blue wall. all members agreed and got ready to play the game. The first time, Yuna was the only one to sit.

“Yah!” she started whining.

“I didn’t even have time to think of what to do,” Eve said, laughing. “Let’s try again.”

They played again and this time, Lia and Eve were the only ones to go down. The members started doubling over in laughter as the two complained.

“Look at the staff,” Ryujin said through her laughter, pointing at the staff holding the cameras. Behind them was a manager who was showing an ‘x’ with his arms.

“They don’t want these two together by themselves,” Yuna said.

“If they’re alone together, they’ll break LA,” Yeji joked.

“How would we break LA?” Eve questioned, also laughing.

“You two are special,” she simply responded, shrugging.

They played the game one last time and Eve, Yeji and Chaeryeong ended up being a team. After discussing where they’ll meet up after, the girls broke off into their teams, running across the street.

[Eve & Yeji & Chaeryeong are shopping together.]

“Let’s check out this one,” Eve said as they passed Huset. The girls didn’t end up finding anything in that store. They continued on their journey, finding a block full of shops that looked nice. They went into a store and started picking out random things they liked.

“We’re supposed to be looking for friendship items,” Eve reminded herself as she put down a shirt. They left the store and then went to fetch Chaeryeong coffee.

“This line is long!” Yeji exclaimed. Eve nodded in agreement and crossed her arms over her chest.

“This better be the best coffee in the world,” she joked. The girls placed their orders once they reached the front, paying and leaving.

“We have… no time,” Yeji said as they left their umpteenth store. They then entered a random store in a panic and left immediately. The girls started running, not forgetting to greet a random man that greeted them first.

“This is the most stressful moment of my life,” Eve said as she ran.

The girls soon regrouped with the other members, taking note of how many shopping bags they had. They showed off their friendship items and found out both teams bought rings from the same store.

“We’re so in tune with each other,” Eve commented, Ryujin nodding along.

In the car, the girls showed off what they bought. Once the girls arrived at the amusement park, they found a ride that looked interesting.

“That goes upside down!” Eve exclaimed, pointing at it.

Yuna started asking people if they knew who they were.

“Oh my gosh. This is too much,” Eve muttered. “We’re real celebrities.

The girls went on their first ride.

“This is the only one I can ride,” Eve joked once they got on.

“Me too.” Lia laughed.

The entire way through the ride, Eve laughed at Lia and Chaeryeong’s screams.

“I thought you said you could do this one,” she teased Lia once the ride stopped.

“I thought I could do it, but I was shocked. I was the most shocked,” Lia said, laughing.

When the girls found the ride they wanted to go on next, Lia and Eve shared a look and immediately shook their heads.

“You guys have fun,” Eve said.

“Take photos for us,” Ryujin asked the two of them, who nodded. Eve took out her camera and switched it on, getting it ready.

“Have you taken photos on it yet?” Lia asked as they waited for their members to get on the ride.

Eve shook her head. “We were too busy running around like headless chickens for me to take my camera out. Did you guys take photos?”

“Yeah. We took a lot, actually.”

They settled into silence. “This is nice,” Eve breathed out.

“Right?”

“Stay right there,” Eve instructed Lia, backing up and pointing her camera at her. “You look really pretty. Two, three!” She counted down before taking a few pictures. The two crowded her camera to check the photos.

“Woah! They’re so good!” Lia gushed.

“This is basic photography,” Eve brushed Lia off.

“It’s nice photography because you took it.”

Just then, the girls heard their members shouting for them. Eve told them to smile as she snapped a picture of them.

“I feel like a fansite,” she told Lia, who burst out laughing.

The two girls watched in amazement as the ride started.

“The floor is disappearing,” they kept repeating, even looking to the staff to make sure they were also shocked. Eve started taking photos of their members as the ride started, mouth dropping in shock at how high the swing was going. Once the ride slowed down, Eve checked the photos she took. She started laughing and nudged Lia, showing her the camera.

“This is real gold! Seriously!” Lia said, taking the camera as Eve collapsed on the floor next to her.

“What’s so funny?” Ryujin asked, noticing her members.

“You’ll know once you come this side,” Lia said as Eve just kept laughing.

Eve took a few deep breaths to calm herself down and stood up, accepting the camera from Lia.

“How is it so clear?” Lia asked her.

“I don’t know,” Eve answered, shaking her head with a smile on her face.

Once the girls came off the ride, Eve and Lia asked them how it was. After they had all answered, Ryujin spoke up.

“What were you laughing at?”

Eve showed them the photo and watched as they all broke into laughter. the photo showed all the members when they were in the air: Chaeryeong and Ryujin’s mouths were wide open as they screams in terror, Yeji’s mouth was slightly open as she tried to calm Chaeryeong down and Yuna had her eyes screwed shut, holding onto the seat tightly.

The girls went to a sitting area and discussed splitting into teams again. Eve was in Lia, Ryujin and Chaeryeong’s team. They went into the candy store. Eve took pictures of the members as they looked around the store.

“Let me take a photo of you, unnie,” Ryujin offered.

Eve gave her the camera and posed by one of the containers with sour worms. Chaeryeong came behind her, putting her head on Eve’s shoulder. Eve raised her hand and patted Chaeryeong’s head. Ryujin snapped pictures and then gave the camera back to Eve.

“Let’s take a selfie,” Lia suggested.

“What happens if we only get our foreheads in it?” Chaeryeong asked as they got into position. The staff signalled that they were all in frame and could take the picture. After looking at the photos, they started filling up their bags with candy. Eve didn’t put that many sweets in her bag as she didn’t feel like eating sweet things. The girls then went to different food stores on the premises, Eve taking photos of the scenery and her members as they walked from place to place. The girls then went on a pony ride.

“I’m excited,” Eve said, clapping her hands. her expression soon changed to one of terror and she looked at the staff, silently begging them to get her off the ride. Once the ride started, all four girls screamed until it ended.

“That was fun,” she said with a shaking voice when the ride ended.

#eve’s outfit!!

tagging: @lunarxsun // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea

©️ kim nabi

[raibebe]

Simple Lessons

Genre: fluff Words: 3.200 Prompt: 90s grunge boy Jeno x female reader

Warnings: smoking, mentions of food

A/N: Literally no one asked for this but this just poured out of me the other day... EVERLONG JENO IS MY COMFORT CHARACTER OKAY??

Everlong masterlist

“Do you want to go out to grab lunch? You don’t have classes until later as well, right?” Your best friend asked as she dragged you out of the lecture hall. “Sure,” you smiled, basking in the rays of the sun for a while after being stuck inside an auditorium with barely any daylight for two hours straight. “There is this cute new diner a little off-campus and a little birdie told me there is this super hot guy working there,” she wiggled her eyebrows to which you could just groan loudly, making her giggle in return. Mimi had talked you up during orientation days and you two hadn’t seperated since. Sharing majors surely helped with that and soon you had found a small group of girls to call your friends. While she was very much the flirty, extrovert in your group, a crush on a different boy each day of the week, you couldn’t not be fond of her shenanigans when it made all of you laugh out loud whenever she told stories of yet another drastically failed date. “Not everyone can still be with their Highschool boyfriend like you,” she accused, slapping your arm before tugging you in the direction of the diner. “Are we really going to this diner just because someone told you that one of the waiters is hot?” “Listen. This was a very trustworthy source,” Mimi pouted, “I’ll pay for your meal, just come with me please.” “How can I say no to free food?” You laughed loudly, letting her pull you along while complaining about all the assignments your professors had given out.

You had to admit that the diner was really cute. It had this old-school look inside with the red, big sofas and a variety of license plates decorated the walls and the female servers even wore cute puffy skirts. “This is so pretty,” you said once Mimi had chosen a booth, the leather of the sofa squeaking while you sat down. “Yeah, yeah,” she waved it off, looking around the place, “Now where is this hot waiter?” “You’re hopeless,” you giggled, picking up the menu that was already laid out on the table to look at their food options instead of helping your friend. “Shut up,” she grumbled, copying your action, “You also still haven’t introduced us to your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “He’s...” Well, what were you supposed to say now? If it were to go how you had wanted, your friends would have already met Jeno at the first party you were invited to but he had declined the offer, only sweetly kissing your head and promising to pick you up at 2 am from the adress you had given him. Which he had done but by that time everyone was so wasted that they couldn’t remember a thing. Which had become a reoccurring theme, no matter how much you’d bribe them to not drink to finally catch a glympse at him. “If you all would stop drinking yourself into a coma every time we go out, you’d have met him already.” “I am beginning to think you’ve made him up,” Mimi grinned, “He seems way too perfect. Letting you go out and party on your own and picking your drunk ass up after but then he never shows up to your classes to walk you to the next one.” Well just maybe you hadn’t gotten around to telling your friends that Jeno in fact wasn’t even studying but working different part-time jobs to help finance your apartment until he had figured out what he wanted to do in the first place. They had just assumed he was studying something way different than you hence why you wouldn’t meet up during your breaks. “Well he is real,” you sighed, “He’s just... Different?” “Oooooh, I get it,” your friend grinned, “He’s older than you. Oh my god. Do you have a sugar daddy?” At that you let out an embarrassed screech which made her double over with laughter. “Why would you say that?” You whined, “He’s the same age as us, for real.”

“Hi ladies, I see you’re already having a great time. I’ll be your waiter for today, have you already decided what to get?” A deep velvety voice interrupted. You didn’t need to look up to know who the waiter was or what he looked like because his voice was almost as familar to your ears as your own was and you knew his body inside and out. Smiling brightly, your eyes met Jeno’s who was also smiling, throwing you a little wink. You had known that he had been working in a diner for a little while now but not this specific one so it was a nice surprise to see him here clad in a neat button-down and pants that for once weren’t ripped to shreds. Meanwhile, Mimi was stunned in silence, her mouth parted in what must be awe. “Hi,” you kept smiling at Jeno, “Anything you can recommend?” “Our burgers are pretty good,” he shrugged, “But what’s really good are our milkshakes.” “Then we’ll take that, right?” You asked your friend, kicking her shin beneath the table to get her to snap out of it. “Y-yeah sure,” she stuttered, still blatantly gawking at Jeno. “Great, I’ll be right back with your drinks,” Jeno smiled before walking off again.

“Girl he’s so hot oh my god,” Mimi exclaimed as soon as he was out of earshot, dramatically flopping down onto the table. “He’s really good-looking,” you admitted, a big grin on your face. “Better than your boyfriend?” “I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed, awkwardly shuffling in your seat. Was this the right time to tell her that the waiter apparently a lot of girls were thirsting after was in fact your boyfriend and probably not at all like they thought him out to be? “God, I bet he looks so good out of his uniform as well,” she groaned, “Just the thought of him in light washed denim.” At that, you had to mask a burst of laughter with an awkward cough. You had tried times and times again to convince Jeno to swap out one of his dark jeans for light-washed ones but he wasn’t budging, only in turn challenging you to wear one of his many black baggy T-shirts instead of your brightly colored spaghetti tops. “Sure,” you giggled instead, kicking your friend’s shin again to alert her when Jeno came back with your drinks. “There you go, food will be out in a bit,” he smiled politely. Not the kind of smile that turned his eyes into beautiful crescents but a more reserved one.

“Hey, uhm,” Mimi suddenly spoke up when Jeno turned around to walk away again, making him halt in his steps. “Have you been working here for long?” Oh god. You had to physically keep yourself from cringing at her awkward try to rope him into a conversation. “Just a handful of weeks, so not that long,” Jeno shrugged, “Looking for a job as well?” “Oh no, we both work part-time at a clothing store downtown,” she waved it off, “I was just wondering because I had never seen you around before.” “Well yeah, makes sense I haven’t been here for long.” “So you recently moved here? I’m sure I would have remembered a handsome face like yours,” Mimi now blatantly flirted, twirling a dyed strand of hair around her finger and just slightly leaning forward on the table to give Jeno a better view of her cleavage in her white cropped top. “Yeah, I’m not from around here,” he shared, his eyes firmly staying on her face but the redness of his ears and how his fingers were fiddling with his little notepad betrayed his cool facade. Was this the time where you should end this to save Mimi and Jeno from further embarrassment? Or should you enjoy this for a little longer? “Are you also a student?” She asked next, “We both go to university here.” “Oh god no,” Jeno exclaimed and this time you couldn’t hold in the little giggle that slipped past your lips, noticing that your boyfriend’s lips twitched into a little grin as well. The more Jeno saw you struggle between classes, essays and study sessions, the more sure he had become about his whole decision to not do the whole university thing. Just when your friend wanted to ask the next question, a loud voice interrupted: “Jeno, I am not paying you for flirting with customers! Get back to work!” Rolling his eyes at his boss, Jeno shot the two of you an apologetic look before quickly walking to the register where his boss was waiting.

“God, even his name sounds good,” Mimi groaned, returning to her former position, sprawled out over the table. “You sound like you’re in love with him,” you giggled, “You don’t even know him.” “Listen. This is love at first sight. Do you not watch romance movies?” You did in fact. Even though Jeno would complain throughout the whole first 30 minutes of the movie until he’d either accept his fate in favor of cuddling and letting you pet his hair or actually get invested in the movie as well, cursing the characters for being so stupid and not talking out their problems. “I do, dummy,” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip from your milkshake that didn’t disappoint after Jeno had praised it so much, “But don’t you need to get to know a person before you can love them?”

“You’re the one with a boyfriend,” she mumbled, collecting herself from the table to take a sip of her drink as well, “Tell me about him.” “My boyfriend?” “Yeah, you never speak much about him and don’t let us meet him either. Convince me he’s not made up.” “Well we know each other since childhood,” you shared, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and neck, knowing how cliche your story sounded, “He lived in the house next to ours so we played a lot as children but then my family had to move away when I was in like elementary school or something because of my dad’s work but eventually we moved back for my last year of highschool.” “Oh wow, that must have sucked to leave all your friends behind twice.” Sighing, you ran your hands through your hair. “It wasn’t easy to just leave everything behind, but I managed. We moved back into our old house and he was also still living in the house next to us with his family. His mom made him take me to school every day and we shared a lot of classes and then it just went from there,” you smiled, blatantly leaving out the part where you had to basically force Jeno to speak and open up to you at nights on his rooftop beneath the moon and the stars. That was a private matter you didn’t want to share without his consent.

“That is so wholesome,” Mimi cheered, “What’s he like?” “Different?” You tried to explain, swirling your straw in your milkshake, “Like different than you’d expect him to be. When you see us together, you’d probably say we don’t match.” “Ooooh,” she nodded, her eyes wide, “So you’re like opposites?” “You could say that,” you smiled, “But when you get to know us, we’re not that different.” Before she could ask more questions, Jeno interrupted you again, hands full of your plates. “And that’s your food girls. Please enjoy,” he smiled, placing the plates down, “If you need anything else, I’ll be around.” “Actually,” Mimi began and you had to hold yourself back from interrupting her, “I was wondering when your shift is ending.” “My shift?” Jeno repeated, his eyes shortly drifting over to you. “Yeah,” she smiled, waiting for his answer. “I’m off in a bit,” he said slowly after checking the time on the neon clock hanging over the counter. “So you’re free after we’re done with our food?” She pressed on. “Probably?” “Would you like to hang out after? We still have some time until our next classes start. “Hang out. With you two,” he repeated, still dumbstruck by her boldness. “I mean you don’t have to if you really don’t want or have something to do,” she shrugged but you knew that look in her eyes. She was determined to have him hang out with you. “I was just going to go get groceries and go home,” Jeno shared, “Listen, I gotta go back to work or my boss will literally fire me because he already hates me.” With an apologetic smile, he quickly walked down to another table where a couple was seemingly done with their meal.

“You’re so shameless,” you accused your friend, finally digging into your meal. “Listen. I see a hot boy and need to talk to him, it’s as easy as that,” Mimi giggled, taking a bite from her burger. “Now tell me more about that boyfriend of yours.”

Once you were finished with your meal, Jeno already wasn’t there anymore to take your bill, instead, a cute girl with a big puffy skirt handed your friend the bill. “But half the stuff is missing,” Mimi asked, “I’m paying for both of us.” “Oh, my colleague took care of one of the meals,” the waiter smiled, “He must like one of you.” “I told you my flirting was worth it,” your friend smiled, handing over the money. You really didn’t have it in you to tell her that Jeno most likely covered for your half of the meal when she seemed so genuinely happy about it, so you swallowed the words back down even if it was going to come out sooner or later when you’d finally get Jeno to meet your friends.

Apparently, the universe wanted it to be sooner because as soon as you stepped back out of the diner and into the sun, a boy clad in all black caught your attention. He was leaning against the little railing around the diner, a cigarette between his lean fingers. “Hey,” you nudged your friend, nodding towards Jeno. “Huh?” “It’s the waiter,” you explained, looking over at him. By now it looked like he was trying his hardest to hold back his grin while taking another drag. Shocking people with his looks still was one of his favorite things to do if they only knew him from one of his jobs where he had to wear a uniform. “No way,” Mimi whispered, “He looks like a completely different guy.” “You’re not in love anymore now?” “He’s just so…” “Different?” You helped her out, rolling your eyes. Why could no one see past the dark clothes, chains and the cigarette and made the effort to actually get to know Jeno? “I don’t think he’s my type.” “You’re ridiculous,” you snorted, leaving her behind to walk over to Jeno.

“Hey bubblegum,” he smiled, curling an arm around your waist like it was second nature already, “Fancy seeing you here.” “You didn’t tell me that was the diner you applied to,” you pouted, scrunching your nose at the smell of smoke. “I didn’t know it was close to your campus,” he shrugged it off and stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette after taking a last drag, making an effort to blow the smoke away from you, “Your friend tried really hard to flirt with me.” “She’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes, looping your arms around his torso to hug him close, “I missed you.” “I made you breakfast literally this morning,” he laughed but pulled you closer to him anyways. “If you work this close you could have come to visit.” “Bubblegum…” Jeno sighed, tucking a wild strand of hair back into place. “My friends think I’ve made up my boyfriend,” you pouted. “You want to show your friend back there how real I am? I think her eyes are already very close to falling out of her head.” “What’s going on in that head of yours Jeno Lee?” “Let me show you,” he grinned, cupping your face with one of his hands before pressing his lips to yours in a languid kiss, the taste of smoke on his breath familiar by now. “You really need to quit,” you grumbled against his lips. “I know,” he sighed but kissed you again anyways, “Wasn’t expecting to see you this soon.” “So you smoke in secret?” “Stop arguing when I’m trying to kiss you,” he grumbled, playfully biting your bottom lip. “Stop kissing me when I’m trying to safe your lungs,” you pouted, slapping his chest for emphasis but didn’t protest and insted kissed you again, languid and deep.

“Are you two done making out now?” Mimi suddenly interrupted you, making your face heat up as you took a step back from Jeno who was having nothing of that and pulled you back against his side by your waist. “Yeah, all done,” he grinned, holding one of his hands out for your friend to shake, “I’m Jeno.” “I figured from your boss screaming at you,” she mumbled but shook his hand anyways, giving him her name as well, “You made me look like a fool. Like you could have told me you were the infamous boyfriend refusing to meet us.” “It’s not like I was refusing.” “You totally were,” you butted in, pinching his side. “Listen it doesn’t sound as appealing to spend my evenings with a group of all girls as you think it does,” he defended himself, “And now you have a witness that I am in fact real.” “You’re not getting out of his now, Jeno Lee,” you grinned, lacing your fingers together. “And if I told you I had this really important thing to do?” He tried, throwing you his best puppy eyes. “We can go grocery shopping after my last class,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re walking back to campus with us now.” “Yes, ma’am,” he rolled his eyes, “Let me carry your bag.” “Oh god, you’ll make me feel so single,” Mimi groaned when you handed Jeno your backpack to carry. “You wanted this, I can leave any time,” your boyfriend shrugged, “Do you have like stones in your bag or something?” “It’s called books, you should try it,” you said, playfully sticking out your tongue. “Why am I even dating you?” Jeno just rolled his eyes. “Because you love me,” you smiled brightly. “Yeah, I kinda do,” he confessed, squeezing your hand.

“No need to make me feel even more single,” Mimi groaned again, “Do you have any hot friends to introduce me to, Jeno?” “I don’t think they’re your style,” he shrugged it off, motioning at his attire of ripped black jeans and dark shirt. “So you do have some hot friends that are also single?” “You almost fainted when you saw me, I don’t think you could handle them.” “Don’t judge a book by its cover, babe,” you smiled, leaning into his body. “Sure, bubblegum,” he gently smiled back.

Because if you had judged him by his cover, you’d never be as happy as you were right now.

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter One: I’m Stuck 

I won’t lie when writing the cute parts of the story I listened to “I’m Stuck” by Noah Cyrus.  

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: None 

Read Prologue here   Masterlist

You stumbled into your favorite coffee shop. You were a mess this morning and it’s all because your alarm decided to fuck you over and not wake you up on time. Luckily your body didn’t completely betray you, naturally waking up an hour later than you had planned, but still giving you a half hour to get to your meeting. 

You had screamed when you saw the time, this meeting could be your next big break, and getting there late was not how you wanted to start a new design deal. At a mere 23 years old you were still making your way up into the world. After graduating college a semester early you had worked your ass off and started your own independent interior design business. You focused on designing office spaces for big businesses using workplace psychology to create an environment that brought up productivity and reduced the stress of workers. 

Your business was slowly gaining traction, but the company you were meeting today could really put your name out there. 

You had planned to wake up early, put yourself together and center yourself over a cup of coffee, however, life can never be that simple. So here you were, quick light makeup and your hair in a simple bun rather than the elaborate “I am a professional” look you planned. The one thing you did have going for you was your outfit, a white blouse that complimented your figure and tan capri pants, with a strappy heeled sandal. You had made sure it was spotless and ironed before your big day today, so at least you had that going for you. 

“Oh darling, you look a bit out of it, are you alright?” Your favorite barista and dear friend Ava, asked, her green eyes filled with concern. 

“Av, you would not believe the hell of the morning I’ve had.” You groaned. “I woke up late today and I have that huge meeting I told you about and all of the things I had planned to keep me grounded and ready flew out the window.”

Ava let out a tsk sound and patted your hand. “Oh babe, in that case, coffee’s on me. Take a deep breath. You’ve been planning for this meeting for weeks and with that amount of work and dedication, you’re definitely going to knock’em dead.” 

“Ave, you are the light of my life.” You said, already feeling lighter than you did when you first entered. 

“Oh babe, I know.” She winked, brushing a stray purple bang out of her eye. “I want an update on everything afterwards, you’ve got my number! James will have your coffee ready for you at the other end. Good luck!” 

“Thank you! I promise I will!” You grinned and made your way to the other end of the counter, where your coffee was waiting. 

Knowing your order by heart, James had already started your latte the moment you walked in, you thanked whatever God listening that it was ready so fast. James gave you a shy smile and handed you the coffee. “Here you go.”

“Thanks James.” You gave him a kind smile and turned to leave. Glancing down at your watch, you realized you had ten minutes to get to your meeting, but luckily it was just up the block so you would get there right on time. 

But like you said nothing is ever easy. You weren’t exactly paying attention as you walked out of the store, you were double checking your bag to make sure you had everything, so naturally you slammed into someone, causing coffee to get all over your blouse.

You let out a yelp, while a large hand came out to steady you. “I am so sorry! Are you alright?” A male voice asked. 

“Well, aside from the fact that I have a meeting that could change my life in 5 minutes and now I look like a disheveled mess with coffee on her blouse, I’m fine.” You grumbled finally looking at the face of your accidental attacker. Your heart stopped for a moment. 

He was stunning. Shoulder length curly brown hair, caramel eyes, and a TALL, fit body.

He was clearly flustered as your eyes met. His face had a gentle dusting of pink across it and his eyes could barely meet yours. “I really am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention- uh- here!” He began to shrug off his cardigan. “This should be able to cover up most of the stains.” He thrust the sweater towards you. 

Now it was your turn to be flustered. “Oh no, really, I can figure something out-” 

“You said this meeting is supposed to change your life right?” He interrupted before you could stutter out anymore excuses. You nodded. “While I don’t want to be the person that ruins your life. Just wear it to your meeting and uh, how about we meet back here tomorrow morning and you can just give it back to me then?” He blushed a deeper crimson, as a big smile grew across your face. 

“I would love that, thank you so much.” You put on his cardigan and buttoned it up. He was right, almost all of the stains were covered. “How do I look? Professional?” You asked him.

“Beautiful- I mean yes, professional, you look great!” He smiled, pushing a shoulder length curl behind his ear.

You blushed, but quickly forced yourself to regain your composure. “So I’ll meet you here at 7 tomorrow-” You paused looking at him for his name. 

“Dr. Reid, well, Spencer, call me Spencer.” 

“Spencer.” You smiled. “I will see you tomorrow then.” 

That was the first time you met Spencer Reid.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spencer arrived 30 minutes early to the coffee shop to get a table, he felt fidgety and nervous. He hadn’t even caught your name yesterday before you left and he felt like an idiot. Of course he bumps into the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, spilt coffee all over her, AND forgot to ask her her name. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t even show up, it’s not exactly the best first meeting. 

30 minutes later when you walked in, he thanked a God he didn’t even believe in. You looked less bewildered than you did yesterday, but no less beautiful. 

You had chosen to go for a business casual look, your hair curled and flowing past your shoulders, a deep red blouse, black denim jeans, and black heeled boots. You had Spencer’s cardigan draped over your arm, you had made sure to wash it before giving back to him. 

You searched around the patrons until your eyes met Spencer’s, your whole face lit up as you made your way over to him. 

You had no idea that somebody else was watching you as you made your way over to him. You were too distracted by Spencer to feel the angry gaze that burned into your back.

“Hi.” You said shyly as you sat down. 

“Hey.” Spencer said smiling at you. 

“Were you waiting long?” You asked, a concerned look crossing your face.

“Oh no, not at all, I just came a few minutes early to get us a good seat.” Spencer lied, not wanting you to know how early he actually came. 

“Well you choose right, this is the best seat in the house. It’s right by the counter where you pick up coffee, but it’s the perfect window seat to people watch.” You explained. 

“Yeah, did you know coffee is actually a fruit?” Spencer asked you. “They’re actually the pit of a berry and grow on a bush. 

You let out a giggle, “No, I had no idea that was even a thing. At least I can use that as an excuse when I get chastised for drinking too much. Where did you learn that?” 

Spencer blushed. “I tend to pick up random knowledge here and there. Which reminds me, I never got your name yesterday before you ran off.” 

“Well Dr. Spencer Reid, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You grinned offering him a hand. “No fancy title, but I am doing my best for simply being a Miss.” 

Spencer would usually avoid handshakes due to all the germs, however he wanted nothing more than to shake your hand, which was warm and soft. 

“(Y/N).” He tested your name out on his tongue. You smiled. 

“Have you gotten a coffee yet?” You asked him, getting up to head to order.

“I had one a bit earlier, but I could use another one.” Spencer answered, getting up to follow you. 

As you approached the counter you tried to ignore the smug look Ava gave you, praying she wouldn’t say anything. She gave Spencer a not so subtle up and down look, checking him out and obviously finding him attractive. You gave Ava a stern look that told her not to say a word. 

She just gave you a wink. Spencer had picked up on all of this, his profiler skills not missing a thing. A small smile crept across his face and he swallowed back a laugh. 

You gestured for Spencer to go first, “I’m buying, to thank you for letting me borrow your sweater yesterday.” 

Spencer looked at you in bewilderment. “No way! If anything I’m buying for destroying your coffee and spilling it all over your blouse before your ‘life changing’ meeting!”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Spencer, just order the damn coffee. I promise you it won’t break my bank. Especially after I got the design yesterday.” You grinned. 

 Ava let out a squeal. “You did not! Oh my god, I knew you could do it girl! All of your hard work paid off!” 

Spencer’s face lit up. “Congratulations! I’m glad our collision didn’t ruin anything.” 

You let out a laugh. “If anything I think your cardigan brought me good luck, I even got a couple compliments on it. I may just have to keep it.” You teased 

Spencer’s heart warmed at the idea of you wearing his clothes. “Well if it brought you that much luck, maybe I’ll just let you keep it.”

A voice behind the two of you cleared their throat. “Are you guys going to order? Some of us have places to be.” 

You glanced behind you at the woman, a small line had apparently grown behind you and Spencer.  “Sorry about that. Ava I’ll just do my usual. Do not let Spencer pay.” 

Ava raised her hands defensively. “I’m just here to make coffee love.” 

“I’ll just do a large coffee with extra cream and a lot of sugar.”  Spencer said. 

You went to grab your wallet from your purse, but Spencer cut you off, cash already in hand. 

“Spencer.” You whined and Spencer just shrugged. 

As you made your way to the counter, you found it a bit strange that James had just left your coffees there. Usually he would at least wait a moment to say hi before taking off to make more orders, but you shrugged it off, they did have a line right now so he probably had to focus on getting the coffees out to customers. 

Though the two of you only got to spend about an hour together, the two of you had immediately hit it off, completely unaware of the eyes that had been burning through you as they watched throughout what you and Spencer would later consider your first date. 

_______________________________________________________________

From there it was a whirlwind of dates snuck between cases and your design jobs. After a little over a month Spencer had asked to officially call you his girlfriend and you had obviously accepted.  

It was ridiculously cliche how quickly the both of you had fallen for each other, but you had just seemed to click right away. You loved Spencer’s logical mind that went on and on with random facts, he loved your creativity and energy. Your minds worked well together, helping each other out when the other got stuck. 

As your relationship progressed, you found yourself spending more and more time at each other's apartments.

“Ava, he's just a dream. I’ve never felt like this with anyone ever.” You explained joyfully. 

You had sat in your regular window seat, while Ava remained on the  other side of the service counter. It was a bit slow in the shop today, so she had come over to get all the details on “your smokeshow boyfriend.” Since she was the manager of the shop and beloved by her boss, she could get away with it.

“Oh hon, if he has a brother, let me know.” She purred, sneaking a glance over her shoulder to check on James who was holding down the fort for her. The boy stood by the register, poor thing looking a bit bored. 

James was a year younger than you and apparently starting grad school, but his shyness made him seem so much younger that you felt this slight protectiveness over him even if you only knew him from around the shop and stories from Ava. 

His eyes met yours and you gave him a sympathetic smile. He blushed deeply and turned away, scampering to busy himself. 

You looked back at Ava, giving a little nod towards James, “What about James? He seems sweet and he’s cute.” You waggled your eyebrows at her. 

Ava snickered. “(Y/N/N), he is sweet, but way too shy, he can barely look me in the eye. I need someone who’s more of a dom if you know what I mean.” She smirked. 

You pouted at her. “Poor James.” 

Ava shrugged, “He’ll find his someone. Anyway you’re switching the topic, back to your dreamboat. You said he was an FBI agent? That’s heroic and sexy.” 

You rolled your eyes at her. “Yes, he’s part of the Behavior Analysis Unit. They create profiles to help solve different criminal cases. It’s actually amazing. Spencer is giving a lecture about it at a college this Friday if you want to come with me.” 

“I’ll come, but only if I get to officially meet your sexy doctor superhero boyfriend.” Ava smirked. 

“Well obviously.” You smiled. 

________________________________________________________________

The boy’s breathing was heavy as he struggled to control his anger. He watched the Doctor’s tall form strutting across the stage, his long brown hair swinging back and forth as he broke down profiling and the criminal cases he and his BAU team had solved. 

From where he sat in the lecture hall he could watch the doctor while also keeping an eye on you. You were sitting near the front, your friend by your side.  It was hard to miss her with her deep purple hair, that’s how he always found you. Though to him, you outshined everyone in the room. Even the ridiculous doctor. 

He growled to himself as he observed your look of awe. He knew you two had made your relationship official. He knew almost every detail. Like how last weekend, the Doctor had come home early from a case and had surprised you with your favorite flowers: pink dahlias. You had spent the whole rest of the weekend together; you had brought him to your favorite Thai place, then went to both of your favorite bookstores. He knew everything. 

He knew where you lived, your schedule, the design projects you were working on. He watched and he listened. He followed you home some days. Other days, he would simply wait outside your apartment building. He knew what window to watch if he wanted to catch a glimpse of you. 

The worst days are when the Doctor would be with you. He would watch as you two joked around and kissed, it made him sick. 

He didn’t like the Doctor. He hated hearing him ramble on to you. Fact after fact, never shutting up. But he understood him as he had researched him, found his accomplishments; he was a prodigal, graduating high school at the age of 12 and earned three PhDs. He worked for the FBI, catching criminals and profiling them. The Doctor constantly had something to prove, how could you be with a man so weak?

The Doctor was someone who could hardly befriend anyone besides his books, so how had the Doctor gotten you, when he had always been there? The Doctor did not deserve you, the Doctor could not give you what he could. Yet here you were, giving this man a ridiculous moon-eyed look that he did not deserve. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and left. 

He made his way down the hall towards an all-too familiar office, one that he practically lived in. 

He was greeted by his usual cheery eyed professor, Professor Irving. 

Never one to miss anything, Professor Irving raised an eyebrow. “You’re back early, how was the lecture?” Professor Irving asked. “Isn’t that Dr. Reid something else?”

“He’s alright. Someone worth looking into for sure. I left early to get ahead of these reports you wanted me to help grade, I do have a life outside of classes.” 

Professor Irving smirked at him. “Son, I have known you too long, the only three places you go are classes, your job, and your apartment. I was hoping this lecture would show you how much the world has to offer, I mean look at Dr. Reid! He was one of the youngest to ever join the BAU-”

“ENOUGH about Dr. Reid!” He growled, interrupting his professor. 

Professor Irving just stared at his student, shell-shocked. 

The boy shook his head and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry professor, that was uncalled for, I have just been stressed lately.” The boy began picking up the papers he had to grade. He wanted to get through some of these as quick as possible, that way he could spend his weekend with you. 

Professor Irving solemnly nodded. “I understand. I know you’ve been stressed lately, is that girl of yours acting up still?”

The boy sighed as he shrugged on his bag full of student’s reports. “Something like that. Listen, I know you said Dr. Reid is going to continue to come back and give lectures every few weeks or so. I will go to those ones and actually stay for them. Who knows? Maybe it will help me with my thesis paper. I just- I just can’t focus tonight, but I will do better. I promise.” 

Professor Irving nodded. “Of course, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” 

The boy nodded then left the room.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty @generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox @anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog @secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii 

[princessjungeun]

TWICE Reaction to S/O Being Insecure

Request: Can I request twice reaction to their s/o being insecure?

Nayeon

Nayeon noticed you pouting in the mirror and adjusting your shirt as you sighed out of frustration, giving in and starting to pull it off. She asked, “What’s wrong? I think you look pretty in that one.” You refused, “No I don’t, not with these man shoulders of mine...” Nayeon knew you despised your shoulders after being made fun of for them as a kid. On top of that they are very muscular from high school sports which in your opinion made you look like some bulky man which is fine but just not a look you liked for yourself. Nayeon however loved your shoulders, she thought they were so attractive and they made you look strong. She stood on her toes and wrapped her one arm around your waist and another around your shoulder. Softly she kissed your bare skin and told you firmly, “Your shoulders are perfect baby. You have nothing to worry about, you look beautiful all the time.”

Jeongyeon

You and Jeongyeon had been watching a movie together, both of you doubling over laughing every so often when something funny happened. However you did you best to hide your laugh and stifle the sound of your own laugh when you could. Jeongyeon took notice and nudged your shoulder, “Why are you being weird?” You tried to play it off the best you could, pretending that you weren’t doing anything, “What are you talking about, I’m normal. You’re the weird one.” Your girlfriend frowned, “You’re not laughing with me. Why?” For a moment you stayed silent, hoping she’d get distracted with the movie playing behind you but she didn’t. She was still looking at you and waiting for an answer, you huffed, “My laugh is so ugly....I want a cute one.” Jeongyeon waited for you to continue until she realized that was the only problem. She asked, “Are you serious?” You nodded, “Yes! I wheeze then snort when I laugh. That’s so ugly and embarrassing! I want a cute laugh like you or like almost every other girl we know.” Jeongyeon frowned, “I love your laugh and it is cute. I love when your face turns pink because you’re laughing too hard and when your nose scrunches and you snort when you’re laughing. If you had a laugh like every other girl it’d be boring don’t you think?” You replied, “I guess so....thanks.” She pulled you into a hug and tickled your side, making you laugh so hard you fell off her lap. 

Momo

Momo always noticed how you covered you mouth when you smiled when you were in public. She didn’t start to wonder why until you continued to do it even when it was just the two of you alone. Your girlfriend had done something and you started laughing, covering your mouth to hide your smile in the process. She reached out and grabbed your hand gently, asking, “Why do you do that? Cover your smile?” You replied, “My teeth aren’t straight...they’re ugly. I guess it’s a habit I formed over time?” Momo told you, “No, your teeth are perfect even if they aren’t straight. My bottom teeth are crooked too, it’s no big deal babe.” Although her words meant a lot and they did make you feel a little better, you still had to work through that opinion that lingered in the back of your mind. 

Sana

In Sana’s eyes you were absolutely perfect, from top to bottom you were everything she dreamed of and then some. You knew you were perfect in your own way, after all your parents had instilled that in you since birth. However, you had one thing that you wished was different: your eyes. They were two different colors, one bright blue and the other partially blue but a majority chocolate brown. As a kid, your classmates always teased you and would call you names because of them. Your parents never let you get colored contacts, insisting that your eyes were and always would be beautiful. Sana didn’t even know your eyes were two different colors for almost a year of you two dating. You’d forgotten to put contacts in one night when she wanted to come over and she was taken aback. At first she thought you were joking, telling you that you forgot to put in another blue contact. However after looking closer and seeing the other, she realized those were your real eyes. All night Sana couldn’t look away, only adding to your insecurity. However she was quick to reassure you that they were beautiful, that you were beautiful. 

Jihyo

You and Jihyo had decided to take a vacation to Hawaii when she and the girls had a break between comebacks. She was in dire need of rest and relaxation from promotions and you needed time away from work. Jihyo was excited to head to the beach, all ready in her bathing suit and sandals. She didn’t hesitate to pull her shirt and shorts off and lay in the sun once you both found a spot. You on the other hand refused to take off your shorts. Your girlfriend poked your denim shorts, “Don’t you want to take them off? You’re gonna have some funny tan lines later.” You gently swatted her hand away and said, “No, it’s fine?” Your gaze flickered away from hers quickly and out facing the sand and water in front of you. Jihyo scooted back under the canopy and closer to you, lifting your head with her thumb to face you, she asked softly, “What’s wrong?” You shifted awkwardly in place, “I-I just don’t like the way my legs look that’s all.” Jihyo frowned, pulling you closer to her so you were sitting between her legs, your back against her front. She hugged you tight and told you, “but they’re perfect....” You let out a laugh, “trust me they’re far from it, don’t get me started on my stretch marks.” Jihyo’s hand rested on your thigh, her thumb grazing your skin softly, “they’re normal to have, I have them too. It’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, you’re so beautiful Y/N.” You could only smile bashfully, letting out a shy “Thank you.”

Mina

You sighed as you sat in the mirror trying to figure out what to do with your hair. You’d unintentionally left it uncombed for a few days too long and it now looked like a big frizzy tumbleweed. There was no time to wash it because it was already mid afternoon and you’d be up until the early morning if you were to start now. You and Mina were supposed to have left already, she wanted to go shopping in Gangnam for something and you were planning to tag along. However you couldn’t leave until you managed to do something with the tangled ball of curls that rested atop your head. Mina popped her head in the bathroom, seeing you just staring into the mirror. She asked, “Hey you okay in here?” That was all it took for you to start sobbing. You choked out, “M-my hair is s-s-so uglyyyyyy!” Mina rushed to your side, pulling you into a hug, “Who told you that? Why would you say that?” You cried, “its too puffy and big and it never cooperates! I’m just going to flat iron it all the time now. I’ll look prettier then.” Mina refused, “that’s not true Y/N. Your hair is so pretty, you can do so much with it unlike me. No matter what you do to it you’ll look beautiful okay?” You sniffled, “O-okay.”

Dahyun

Ever since people found out that you were dating Dahyun, they’d been supportive for the most part. However there were some netizens that reacted negatively, almost all of these people pointed out the one thing you disliked about your body the most: your ears. Your ears were absolutely tiny, you could barely fit two ear piercings on each one, they were that small. Dahyun noticed you wore hoods over your head or pulled your hair to cover your ears when you two were in public. She playfully pulled one of them, something she did often at home. When you swatted her hand away and frowned, covering your ears she asked, “What’s wrong?” You told her, “Stop that....I don’t like them.” Dahyun was quick to reply, “Why not? They’re so cute and small.” You sighed, “that’s exactly the problem, they’re tiny. They are so awkward and unproportioned to the rest of my head, I hate it. I want normal ears like you.” Your girlfriend reassured you, “Y/N, your ears are so precious. I think they’re so cute, you don’t have to be insecure about them okay?” 

Chaeyoung

You were quite tall compared to Chaeyoung, standing at 180 cm, you towered over your girlfriend. Most times you loved it, having long arms and legs was great for reaching things on the top shelf or walking quickly from point A to point B. However you did feel a wave of insecurity when you went out with Chaeyoung and heard people mumbling between themselves. Most of the time it was “I wonder if she’s a model?” But others it was, “She’s too tall, she looks like a giant man. That’s not attractive.” You hated hearing these negative comments because there was nothing you could do to be smaller. You always wished that one day you’d wake up and be 165 cm, that was your ideal height, it was normal and you’d look like everyone else. Chaeyoung was always quick to notice when you started to feel insecure, she’d always shower you with complements, telling you how pretty you were and how she wished she had your height.

Tzuyu

You were a pretty confident person, you knew you were beautiful and you were one of the first people to point it out when you felt extra pretty. However, there were times when this wasn’t the case. You had terrible eyesight and due to that you wore contacts. You also had glasses but you didn’t wear them because you hated how thick the lenses were. You’d forgotten to pick up your contacts and you ran out, meaning you’d have to opt for your glasses for the day. Tzuyu had seen you in your glasses and honestly she thought they made you look cuter. You’d been walking around your apartment squinting and feeling around for things, unable to see without your glasses or contacts on. Tzuyu looked up from her phone, “Baby girl where are your glasses?” You shook your head, “Don’t need em.” She looked at you then said, “You’ve walked into the wall twice, poured chicken stock into your cereal thinking it was milk, and you’ve been squinting since you woke up. Go put them on so you don’t get hurt please.” You grabbed them from your bedroom and held them in your hand, looking down at them you played with the temple tips under your fingers. Your girlfriend asked, “what’s wrong?” You mumbled, “they make me look ugly....” Tzuyu gently took them from you, putting them on for you. It was the first time you’d seen her clearly all day, bringing a faint smile to your face. She grinned, “you look so cute, I love your glasses.” 

[peaches-writes]

before one a.m.

description: bang chan, college of music, friend of a friend who surprisingly offers to share a workplace in a cafe on this busy friday night member: chan genre: fluff, college au, strangers to friends au, reader is a fine arts student word count: 7.4k warning: explicit language note: inspired by the before trilogy but it kinda feels like i didn’t do it justice i rlly cant do strangers to anything lmao im a clown + this took rlly long but it’s not that good sldkfjkdsl :( 

6:30 PM

You hurriedly skip up the steps of the campus library’s entrance staircase, backpack slung over one shoulder and your laptop, tucked in its own bag, and a sketchbook pressed to your chest. Entering through the double doors, you breathlessly sigh in disappointment at seeing most of the working tables full. I run from Fine Arts across the oval to a full library, you huff at scanning the floor from the entrance one last time before proceeding to run up the staircase by the reception desk, skipping the steps again in an attempt to cross the distance faster. 

On the second to the last step, as you focus on not missing the steps you hop onto, your shoulders accidentally bump into someone rushing down from the opposite side, almost making you slip if not for the stranger who quickly steadies you by your upper arm in time. “Woah there.” A familiar voice mutters under his breath as you regain composure. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!”

You look up from almost dropping your laptop and sketchbook on the staircase, meeting eyes with an apologetic Bang Chan who has moved a step above you with a messenger bag and his infamous laptop. 

“Are you okay?” He prods on, going down one step again so you’re on the same level now.

Though he’s in a different college, you know him by name and face from similar social circles, hence the slight embarrassment you felt at recognizing him after almost slipping right in front of him. “I’m okay.” You muse, eyes then flitting over to the second floor entrance. “Is it full too?” 

Chan nods once, fixing his messenger bag with one hand as it starts to feel heavy. “Y-yeah, it’s finals week in the College of Sciences, I think.” 

“Oh.” You frown. “Well, that’s too bad.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, you slowly alternating your gaze between the second floor and the staircase leading back to the first, contemplating on what to do now, while Chan strangely waits for you to say something again. 

When you don’t speak, he speaks up again, “Do you want to...” He trails off until you avert your gaze back to him. “I’m going to Block 325 to work. Do you want to come and share a table with me?” 

Your eyes widen, surprised at a fellow college student being generous enough to share a study spot with you, but Chan misinterprets, thinking you don’t remember him from when you were introduced in Seungmin’s birthday party. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologizes again, scratching the nape of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just that I thought you’d—now I sound like a creep. I’m so sorry, that’s not my intention at all.”

Simultaneously, you respond, “O-Oh, I was just surprised. College students aren’t really that generous with work areas—what?” 

Chan takes a step backward, leaning close to the railings. “W-What?” 

You chuckle, amused by the small miscommunication that suddenly made the atmosphere lighter. “Why did you think you sounded like a creep? I just said it’s a nice offer, not everyone here offers to share work spaces.” 

“Well, I thought you didn’t recognize me,” He answers honestly. “we were introduced at Seungmin’s party?”

You shake your head, your smile growing at how cute he looks when he’s flustered. “Bang Chan, right? College of Music.” You smile when he nods innocently. “See? I’m more worried you didn’t recognize me, CB97.” 

Chan blushes in embarrassment, but even more in the way his Soundcloud rapper name rolls off your lips almost teasingly. “So...” He changes the topic immediately. “Do you want to go with me, Y/N?” 

You nod, noting the way he mimicked the tone you used in referring to him by his stage name. “Of course, thank you for offering to share a workspace.”

“No problem, any friend of Seungmin’s my friend too.” He waves his free hand dismissively before leading you down the staircase. “Come on, let’s go.” 

You leave the library together, the feeling of the building’s cold air conditioning leaving escaping your skin making you sweat slightly. You don’t skip down the stairs this time since Chan doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get to Block 325 cafe, North of the campus oval. 

“Look.” Chan points up as the two of you reach the sidewalk. You follow his gaze as you continue walking, seeing the sunset’s sky move with the crown shyness of trees forming a canopy over the road. “Careful when you’re walking.”

You deliberately ignore his last comment, musing, “Wow, it’s so beautiful.” Your mouth falls agape and your eyes widen. “The canopy shape makes it look so magical, don’t you think?”

“You don’t stay late out here much?” Chan asks when you turn your eyes back to the sidewalk ahead. 

You return his gaze with a shrug, “Only on hell weeks like this...but even then, I usually stay in our department building so I don’t get out much at this hour.” 

“So why aren’t you working in your building tonight?” 

“The floor where I usually work overnight is under renovation. I can’t work at my dorm too since we don’t really have that much space for studying,” Your eyes move down to his laptop bag, noticing how it’s bulkier than yours. “What about you? Don’t they have studios in the College of Music?” 

“They’re full tonight since a lot of seniors are starting their thesis proposals.” He points out. “I’m actually not out making a school project, this one’s for a gig.”

“And in your dorms?” 

“It’s movie night so everyone’s going to be really noisy.”

“Oh, then lucky you didn’t get a table in the library,” You point out with a giggle. “the entire College of Sciences would’ve been pissed at you.” 

Chan scoffs lightheartedly, “And you? If you got a table, the entire library would’ve gotten annoyed by you making a mess.” 

“I’m organized when I work outside the studio, thank you very much.” You roll your eyes, chuckling towards the end. “But yeah, I guess it’s better that we’re going to a cafe since I’m working with watercolor.” 

At this, you arrive in front of Block 325 cafe, Chan courteously opening the door for you.  

7:30 PM

You settle in a booth by the window, illuminated by a white paper lantern and one of the cafe’s neon signs that reads, “COFFEE,” in a metallic color. Chan sits across from you and takes the half of the table near the window, his laptop blocking his face and his headphones covering his ears, while you sit near the aisle, occasionally mistaking your open cup of latte for the small bowls you brought with you containing tap water as you work on your plate due on Monday.

Chan glances over to your work space whenever he reviews his work every 15 minutes, propping an elbow on the table and resting his cheek on his palm, and you take rests from your own work by trying to catch him in the act, giggling when you do and shaking your head when you don’t. 

As an hour passes by, you put your brush down to let your plate dry and look up at Chan as he tests out melodies on his synthesizer, taking a long sip of your latte before asking, “How’s your song?” 

Chan’s eyes widen at the faint hint of your voice, hands traveling up to his headphones and taking them off. “Hm?” 

“I asked how’s it going.” You repeat patiently over your latte. The sweet taste of the coffee brew reminds you of Chan’s coffee order, finding the cappuccino only half-empty in the hour you’ve been in the cafe. 

“Oh, it’s going well.” He answers proudly, eyes alternating between your expectant eyes and his laptop’s screen. “I’m just fixing some mixing issues.”

You nod, looking around the surprisingly organized table. Before Chan could wear his headphones again, you gesture to the counter, “I’m ordering. Do you want anything?” 

He shakes his head in response, wearing his headphones again. “No, thank you, I’ll order later.” 

You purse your lips, standing up from your seat and briefly stretching your arms upwards. “Okay.” You then adjust your denim jacket as it loosely falls on your right shoulder before walking over to the counter. 

“Hello, is there anything you need?” The barista on duty politely asks from brewing an Americano behind the counter. Though the cafe is full today, like you and Chan, most of the customers are only here for the wifi and the work space. 

You skim through the menu once before leaning over the counter and responding, “I’ll have two slices of strawberry shortcake, a banana bread, and the chocolate glazed doughnut, please.” The barista immediately acknowledges it, moving over to the cashier to input your order. “Thank you!” 

You then pay when the she tells you the price, moving over to the display case of desserts and pastries where she then carefully takes your orders. 

You survey the other desserts, pastries, and bottled drinks before your eyes return to Chan across the cafe, catching him leaning over the table and trying to take a peek at your work from his angle, making you giggle once again. 

And as if he heard you, he turns to you, eyes widening briefly at getting caught before awkwardly waving at you. You decide on waving back until the barista presents your order next to the counter, neatly organized on a tray. 

“Thank you again!” You say politely before taking the tray and going back to your table, Chan eyeing all the delicacies the entire time. 

“Stressed much?” He asks, pointing at the two slices of strawberry shortcake. When you look down, only then do you realize that the two slices were placed in one plate with a pair of forks and napkins. “Not that it’s bad to eat a lot, it’s just...a lot of sweets.”

“The other one’s supposed to be for you but I guess the barista thought we’re sharing a plate.” You hand him the chocolate glazed doughnut, thrusting it into his hands when he initially refuses. “You need to eat on time even when it’s just a small amount.” 

“I’ll pay you later,” Chan says after thanking you for the doughnut, reluctantly unwrapping the plastic cover and taking a big bite. “And you can have the cake, it’s fine.” 

“I can’t finish the cake on my own.” You sit down now, taking a bite of the banana bread with one hand while pushing the cake at the center of the table with the other. Chan then politely helps you by placing the tray on the empty space of his share of the table. “Just take the other slice, you don’t have to pay me” 

“But—“

“It’s for offering me a table tonight.” You immediately interject reassuringly. “Please, have the other slice of cake.”

Chan ends up smiling appreciatively at you, picking up one of the forks and cutting a forkful. “...Thank you.” 

You nod, moving your banana bread to your non-dominant hand to pick up your brush and go back to work. “No problem.” You muse, smiling unconsciously at watching Chan stop working altogether to eat. “Like you said, ‘any friend of Seungmin’s a friend of mine too.’”

As you turn back to painting, returning to your unfinished Winter wonderland, you look at Chan again, asking, “Anyway, what do you think?” 

He looks up immediately, his slice of cake almost gone. You quickly clarify, “My plate, I mean.” 

“Oh,” His eyes flicker down to your work again once. “It’s really beautiful. Akita, right?” You nod at his question, letting him continue. “I love the details and the colors—they seem so whimsical and nostalgic, like a childhood memory.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks by the genuine tone of his voice, “Thank you. I hope the professor feels the same way when he sees it.”

“Why Akita?"

“We’re supposed to make a study on nature but I didn’t want to just make something that’s so common around here so I chose this, from a winter trip I won in an art competition last year.” You look down on your work, a flood of memories making your smile wider. “It was the first time I went on a trip alone and it’s abroad so it was a little scary at first but I had a lot of fun.” 

“Really? That sounds cool.” He comments enthusiastically. “It must be fun to travel on your own. I mean, I do too but, sort of; only until I arrive in Australia when I visit my family.” 

Simultaneously, you nod, “It is fun, like it’s one of the things you have to do at one point in your life.” 

“Right, right!” He replies with a chuckle, nodding along still. “I don’t know a lot of people who think the same way so I’m weirdly glad.”  

You spare a glance at Chan, your gaze softening at his genuine expression. When he gives you a questioning look, you answer, “I’m surprised, too; you just seem more like the crowd-type of person.” 

He shrugs. “It’s always fun to be with friends but I think you can enjoy the company of others the best when you’re already comfortable with being on your own.” 

“And are you?” You prod, reaching over for the unused fork and and taking a small piece of your strawberry cake. “Already comfortable with being on your own?” 

He nods with a confident grin. “Yeah, I invited you over, didn’t I?” 

You smile back. “I guess so.” 

8:30 PM

An hour later, you catch Chan stretching his arms upward, leaning back on the seat cushions. You momentarily stop touching up your work, looking up at him with a raised brow, “Break?” 

He nods, stifling a yawn as he brings his hand back down to close his laptop. “Just for 10 minutes.” He gestures over to your work, leaning close to the table. “You should, too, you’ve been working for an hour straight.” 

You glance down at your work, contemplating for a moment before carefully placing your brush to the side and leaning back to your seat as well. “Okay, but just for 10 minutes.” 

You then finish what remains of your latte while Chan organizes the table by gathering all the empty wrappers and your shared plate and cutlery to the tray you used a while back. In response, you take his empty glass. 

“I can take that.” He gestures over to the glasses in your hand with your empty plate while scooting over to the aisle. “Just sit down.” 

You shake your head but place the glass on the tray, standing up almost simultaneously as he does. You then pick up your bowls of paint waiter, holding them up to him. “I’m going to go and change my water.” 

“Oh...okay, then.” The two of you then proceed to the counter where the barista happily takes the tray from Chan’s hands while you dump your dirty paint water in their service sink and replace it with cleaner tap water. 

“Thank you for letting me use your water, again.” You told the barista after Chan offered to carry one of your bowls. 

“It’s no problem!” The barista replies with a dismissive wave and a smile. 

You and Chan then carefully return to your table, placing your bowls on your half of the table. 

Chan checks the time on his phone as he sits down, 8:34 PM. “We still have six minutes, what do you want to talk about?” 

“You’re really keeping check?” You ask in disbelief to Chan who nods with his lips in pursed and his arms folded to his chest as he slides down his seat. “So responsible.” 

“I just thought you might be wary of the time,” He shrugs nonchalantly. “so you can go home early and all, it’s Friday anyway.”

You shake your head, scrunching up your nose, “I don’t have to be somewhere this weekend. All my friends are all busy studying and catching deadlines and Seungmin’s tutoring someone for the entire weekend.”

You decide on busying yourself by scrolling through your Instagram on your phone, glancing over at Chan occasionally as he contemplates on what else to say while opening his laptop again. 

“How do you know Seungmin by the way? If I may ask...?” He settles for such a question when his eyes trail over the customized keychain on your backpack, a photo of you, Seungmin, and your other best friend, Sooyoung, in a Mickey Mouse-shaped frame. “I mean, he talks about you a lot when we hang out but didn’t introduce us until recently so I thought you were dating but he said you aren’t so I’m just...curious.”

When you look up at him, you follow his gaze to your keychain, an amused smile taking over your features. “We’re not dating, just childhood friends but not really close to the point that we know all of the other’s friends.” Unconsciously, your hand finds their way to the keychain, fiddling with them lightly before turning to Chan. “Anyway, even if we just met recently, I’m really happy it’s you and the others he specifically befriended.”

Chan nods with a hum. When he doesn’t speak, you ask him back his question, “How about you? I’m guessing you met through Felix and Jeongin?” 

“Yeah,” He agrees with another nod. “I toured them around campus last year during their orientation.” 

“Aw, you’re in the Orientation Committee?” You coo. Even though it suits his personality, hearing him say it out loud made it somehow more adorable. “That’s so cute! That’s probably why I always hear the Freshmen gossip about you in our studios.” 

His eyes widen at this, pink dusting his cheeks. “W-what?” He stammers, making you laugh. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” You shake your head in feign disapproval, crossing your arms for emphasis. “You’re very popular on campus: music major, radio DJ, performs in a rap trio, and I just find out that you’re in the Orientation Committee touring Freshman on the first week? If I was any batch lower, I would’ve swooned over you in my first months here too. Oh? You’re blushing!” 

Chan scoffs, rolling his eyes in an attempt to hide the now prominent blush on his cheeks. “I’m not, I’m not!” He waves his hand dismissively to distract you from the clearly seeing his face. 

“You definitely are!” You point out in between chuckles, sitting up properly when you unconsciously slide down the booth. “Are you not used to getting compliments? Seriously, this is why I didn’t think you’d remember me from earlier: you’re too charming and popular with other students.” 

Internally, he briefly wonders if you’d still swoon over him even when you’re in the same batch but quickly pushes the thought away. “I really don’t think I’m that popular. I’m pretty sure people like Jisung and Changbin more.” He shrugs. “And popular or not, I can remember you anywhere.”

The last sentence immediately makes you stop laughing, your heart skipping a beat at what you think is just a casual statement from him, You come up with a retort, only to be interrupted by a sound alert from Chan’s phone, reminding the two of you that it’s already 8:40 PM. 

“Okay, break’s done!” He exclaims happily, relieved that he can finally get out of this embarrassing conversation. 

You tsk playfully, picking up your brush while Chan opens his laptop again. “I still think you’re very charming and popular, CB97.” You comment before he can tune you out with his music again. “In fact, if someone asked, I’ll have to say that you’re my favorite 3racha member.” 

Chan pretends to increase the volume on his laptop in his flustered state. You catch this, an amused smile forming on your lips. You conclude to yourself that you feel more casual and comfortable around him now that you made him flustered. 

Cute. 

9:30 PM

You’ve been done for quite a while now, having busied yourself in the past 5 minutes in disposing the paint water, cleaning your brushes, and packing your things while your work completely dries. Chan looks up at you from his own work when you return with clean bowls and brushes, his headphones falling down his shoulders. Hesitantly, he asks, “Are you leaving?” 

You sit down first, contemplating on the question as you carefully place your bowls and brushes inside your bag, before opting for a shrug and answering, “I’m too lazy to leave yet.” You then briefly break eye contact to check your phone for the time. “Besides, it’s too early. I can stick around, right?” 

He nods once, lifting his headphones up to his ears again. “Yeah, it’s okay.” 

You give him an appreciative smile, leaning back in your seat and opening your phone to Instagram. Blindly, you reach your backpack pockets for your earphones as well, managing to find them after a while. 

Simultaneously, Chan lifts another glance over to you just as you’re connecting your earphones to your phone. A thought then passes over him, “Do you want to...” He trails off again, just until you return his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want to listen with me?” 

“Wouldn’t we bother everyone else studying?” You ask back in response, your forehead crinkling in confusion as you gesture over to the other remaining customers in the vicinity. 

He quickly pauses his music and takes out what seems to be an adapter that splits into two ports on one end, holding it between the two of you. “You can connect your earphones here, I’ll do the same, then I’ll plug it on my laptop.” He motions to his laptop while taking out his headphones’ audio jack towards the end. “It’s an earphone splitter—for sharing music from one device, basically.” 

“Oh.” You nod along in fascination. You then disconnect your earphones from your phone, plugging it on one of the two ports of the splitter. “Okay, if it’s okay to listen.”

He shrugs reassuringly. “Well, it’s an unreleased track but it’s okay since everyone’s going to hear anyway—just don’t tell Changbin I let you listen to it first before him.” His eyes then widen and his mouth falls slightly agape when you get up from your seat, leaving your earphones on the table, and move to the empty space next to him, picking up your earphones again and placing the buds on your ears. 

You look to your side, raising an eyebrow at his surprised expression, “What?” 

“N-Nothing.” He stammers out, casting his eyes downward to connect his headphones to the splitter’s other port then connecting the splitter itself to his computer. 

You giggle. “I can’t stay in my seat, I’ll get cramps from leaning over the table.”

He pretends to ignore your comment in his flustered state, his mouse hovering over to the very start of the track before pressing play. “Playing now.” 

You slide down the booth comfortably, shoulders jumping slightly at the soft drums and bass that flows into your earphones instead of the usual aggressive percussion and beat that everyone associates with Chan’s rap group. Next to you, Chan props his elbow on the table and rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, pretending to watch the stacked and overlapping tracks’ wavelengths move with the music’s progression while stealing glances in your direction, trying to catch a reaction. 

“What’s the name of this track?” You ask over the music, your voice coming out louder against Changbin’s rap. “Does it have a name already?” 

He unconsciously grasps the fabric of his hoodie with his free hand, holding it up to you. “Hoodie season?” 

You chuckle, a little skeptical. “You sound unsure. Did you come up with that on the spot?”

But he shakes his head, gesturing over to the file name. “It’s the name of the track, seriously.” Internally, he also wonders why he seemed to have hesitated. 

"It’s a fitting name, I guess.” You end up nodding with a hum, eyes lighting up when Jisung begins to sing. “Perfect for the incoming Winter.” 

Jisung then starts rapping after the chorus, surprising you once again. “As expected of Han Jisung.” You clap lightly in satisfaction, a proud smile on your face. “Changbin’s verse was also great. Ah, I can’t wait to hear this live.” 

Chan starts feeling visibly anxious next to you as his verse nears, leg bouncing up and down under the table and his fingers poking into his cheek to the beat of the song, that he blurts out, “We’re performing here before break.”

You look up from the laptop screen to him expectantly. “Really? When? What time?” You ask hurriedly, not wanting to speak over the music in case Chan’s part comes up next. 

“On the Saturday before break, I think?” He answers, eyes glancing back and forth between you and the track. “Saturday night, from what I can remember.” 

The chorus then plays again after Jisung’s verse, making you sit up properly in your seat once again in anticipation for Chan’s verse. “Tickets?” You ask him to the already familiar tune of the chorus. 

“It’s free admission.” He answers, the most anxious now. Why did they have to say I’m their favorite member? He sighs in his head at the very cause of his sudden anxiousness. 

Chan’s verse then plays, your tight-lipped smile turning into a satisfied grin. You don’t say anything more, leaving Chan internally lingering over the question of whether or not you’ll attend the gig. 

“Hey, baby, I’ll make you my lover, ay. I’m thankful that I’m warm in the Autumn, ooh ah, ooh ah, I’ll hold you wherever we go.”

You chuckle somewhere between the lyrics, looking over at Chan in amusement who returns your gaze with a confused look. “You make hoodies sound so romantic.” You comment, answering his unspoken question. “Not that it can’t be, it’s just that you made it sound witty and funny somehow.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He asks with genuine concern. The song now ends but you don’t take your earphones out of the splitter and he doesn’t bother as well. 

“It’s a good thing.” You comment, careful of your tone in case you let it slip that you’re totally swooning over him right now. “Plus, this sounds fresh—it’s so different from the songs you usually put out.” 

“Really? Thanks.” He heaves a sigh of relief, smiling more carefree now. 

The two of you don’t speak for a while, not even bothering to take out your earphones. Sitting closer to Chan now, you feel even more lazy to get up and move back to your seat, much less leave and walk to your dorm right outside campus. 

After a while, Chan speaks up again. “Want to listen to something else?” 

You motion over to the track, “Are you done already? I might be interrupting your work.” 

He tilts his head to the side, placing his propped up arm on the table back on his lap as he sits up properly. “It’s pretty much done, just needs a little tweaking on the mixing. I can do that later.” For emphasis, he saves the track and exits the software, the screen displaying his files folder. “Come on, choose a song.” 

You scoot closer to him, your leg brushing against his now as you lean closer to the screen while he slowly scrolls down the files for you. “Oh, play WOW, that one’s funny.” 

Chan frowns. “Not that one, please.” 

In retaliation, you quickly swipe the mouse from him and play the track, laughing maniacally as the familiar intro skit begins to play. 

“Oh God.” Chan groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands.

But he lets the music anyway. Though he’s feeling very embarrassed, all these feelings are immediately forgotten with seeing you enjoying yourself.   

10:40 PM

The barista passes by your table to remind you kindly that the cafe is closing in a while. Only then do you realize that, besides her, it’s just you and Chan in the cafe now, having spent the last hour going through Chan’s laptop. 

“Ah, time passed by really quickly.” Chan muses as he finishes packing up his laptop then slings his backpack on his shoulder. You stand on the aisle, backpack on one shoulder while your laptop and sketchbook are tucked neatly on one arm reminiscent of when you came in, as you watch and wait for him quietly. 

“It sure did.” You nod when he turns to face you, walking you to the door now. He opens the door for you again, chuckling when you tried beating him to it. “Oh, that reminds me, we only ate sweets a while ago.” 

Chan hums in acknowledgement, catching up to you after closing the door behind him. Now, the campus oval is illuminated by yellow street lights, white building lights, and the occasional passing car against the dark night sky, a complete contrast from when you were outside hours ago. Besides the two of you, there’s barely any people outside anymore as well. 

“Chan?” You tilt your head so that you have a better view of his face while walking, catching him off-guard in his dazed state. 

“Yeah?” He blinks twice, embarrassed that he accidentally drowned you out. “Sorry, I zoned out.” 

“You look like you fell asleep for a second there. I asked if you wanted to get a late dinner.” You repeat your question with a chuckle, facing the sidewalk ahead now. You see the library still open at this time from up ahead, half-empty from the view on the clear windows now that it’s nearing midnight. “My dorm’s across the West entrance and there’s a 24-hour grill on the corner of our street.” 

“Oh...sure, sure,” Chan replies, suddenly realizing that he’s hungry again. “We can just eat at my dorm up ahead on the South side, though, it’s nearer.”

“In your dorm?” You raise an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yeah?” He replies back in an unsure manner before quickly realizing how he seemed to have come off. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! We have a common area with a kitchen. I’ll cook for you, don’t worry!” 

You nod in agreement just as you pass the intersection leading to the East entrance, laughing at the way his eyes crinkle in embarrassment. “I was just joking, sure, let’s go to your dorm.”

Chan sighs next to you, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck with his free hand. Such a tease. “Our pantry’s just ramen and canned food, though, so don’t raise your expectations too much.” He warns you lightly once he’s recovered from being a flustered mess. 

“Seungmin says you cook fine, though,” You counter. “so I’m still having these expectations.” 

You reach his dorm after 10 more minutes, Chan walking ahead as you walk up the steps of the entrance so he can open the door for you for the third time this evening and lead you into the common area kitchen. You catch sight of a few familiar faces in the dim light of the lounge area, mostly younger students from your department raving over an action movie playing on the big flat screen and Jisung and Changbin who greet you with knowing smiles on their faces before you disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Are they always glad to see people?” You gesture over to Jisung and Changbin behind you from the wide open doorway as you and Chan leave your things by an empty bench. You briefly turn around to look at them once again, catching them wiggling their eyebrows at Chan before they notice you looking and waving at you with sarcastically sweet smiles in return. “It’s just that...they’re smiling really weird.”

You then turn back around to see Chan a few steps ahead of you shoot the two younger boys an annoyed look, shooing them away with his hand when they lean over the lounge sofa they occupy to have a better look of you and Chan, before turning to you again and laughing nervously, “They’re just being weird, ignore them.” 

“Okay?” You nod, quickly dismissing the thought, before sitting down on the dining table as Chan proceeds to open the nearby refrigerator, passing you a pitcher of water and two glasses. 

He then moves over to the overhead cabinets to your left, examining its contents once before turning to you, “Chicken, beef, or jajangmyeon?” 

“Jajangmyeon, please.” You answer happily as you pour water on the two glasses in front of you. “I can’t believe Bang Chan of 3racha is making me ramen on a Friday night.” 

“Stop teasing me.” He scoffs playfully, taking out four packets of jajangmyeon and opening another cabinet for a clean pot and ladle. He glances over to you slyly over his shoulder, looking away immediately when he catches you taking off your denim jacket to place on your chair behind you. 

You take a sip of the cold water, the sensation making you feel refreshed after hours of working. “Bang Chan of 3racha offered me a work table, called my art pretty, let me listen to an unreleased song, and is now cooking for me—and this is the first time we talked without our mutual friend Seungmin.” You continue teasing him anyway, more as an attempt to distract yourself from the fact that he does look very handsome cooking even with your limited view. “I take back what I said a while ago, I’m definitely swooning right now.” 

Though your tone is casual and playful, Chan can’t find it in himself to fight the blush creeping up his cheeks and the way his hands shake slightly while cooking jajangmyeon. “I’ll burn your share of the jajangmyeon.” 

He hears you laugh behind him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

11:30 PM

You’re presented with a steaming bowl of jajangmyeon along with a few quick side dishes after 10 minutes of scrolling through your Twitter with the dorm’s guest wifi. You thank Chan as you pick up your chopsticks, eating when he does as he sits right across from you. 

“Oh, this is really really good!” You comment after a bite, eyes bright and hands clasping together in satisfaction once again. “I don’t usually trust Seungmin but he is right, you cook well.” 

Chan narrows his eyes at you, his lips unconsciously forming a pout as he chews. “You tease me then turns out you’ve been doubting my cooking skills this whole time.” 

His expression makes you laugh in between big bites of your late dinner. “I meant to say after that what Seungmin said was an understatement, you’re not just fine you’re great so stop pouting!” You take a sip of water after swallowing your fourth bite, your gaze softening to a more sincere expression now. “Anyway, thank you for making me dinner.” 

He smiles shyly now, quickly eating his food to reply, “You bought me cake and a doughnut and kept me company tonight so thank you, too.” 

You take more sips of water as you slowly finish half your bowl before replying, “If I thank you again for offering me a table then we’d go on thanking each other the whole night.” 

He laughs, nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. “Let’s just say thank you at the same time and be done with it.” 

“Right.” You agree. “So, thank you for everything tonight.” 

“Same...thank you for tonight.” He then takes a sip of water before suddenly standing up, catching your attention. “There’s more jajangmyeon in the pot, do you want some more?” 

“Yes, thank you!” 

12:20 AM 

You hold your used silverware tightly as you walk over to the sink, making sure Chan doesn’t snatch them from you and accidentally break them or wash them on his own. 

“Just let me do this since you cooked.” You argue for the fifth time since your conversation shifted from the most random of topics to determining who washes the plates, successfully placing the silverware on the sink almost at the same time as Chan does so. When he tries to gently move you out of the way, you stay firmly on your spot by holding the kitchen counter. “Besides, it’s just one set of plates.” 

“You’re in my dorm so let me wash the plates.” He protests for the second time as well while trying to swat your hands away. After two tries, he successfully moves you to the side, passing you a random packet of biscuits from the overhead cabinet to occupy yourself with. “You don’t have to make things even with us, we’re just hanging out casually.” 

You frown, opening the packet and eating a biscuit anyway. “Still, if someone cooked the other should wash the plates, that’s how it goes.” 

“That’s how it goes only when it’s a date.” He mumbles under his breath, not really expecting that you would catch it. 

“A date?” 

Quickly, he waves his hand dismissively at you. "Nothing. Seriously, it’s fine.” He smiles at you reassuringly, eventually feeling relieved when you don’t tease him further. “Anyway, it’s been a long night and you still have to walk back to your dorm after this so just rest over there.” 

You look down on your biscuits, a thought suddenly coming into mind. “Have a biscuit, then.”

“No, just eat it.” 

“Come on.” You hold up a biscuit to his face as he busies himself with scrubbing the plates and glasses. When he look your way or open his mouth, you poke his lips with the end of the biscuit. “Seriously, eat the biscuit!”

You see him trying to stifle a laugh as you continue poking around his lips with the biscuit, making you laugh as well. Moving away so you don’t take it as an opportunity, he replies, “If I eat this biscuit, will you let me walk you to the West gate? It’s late and dark out.”

You contemplate on this for a moment, your hand stopping in midair. Chan takes this as an opportunity to take a small bite of the biscuit, “Hey, you bit it already!” 

He nods, leaning his head to your hand when you try retracting it then taking another bite. “Yeah, so can I walk you home then call it finally even.” 

You sigh, letting him eat the whole biscuit in your hand. “Okay.” 

“You wouldn’t feel like you need to repay me again after, okay?” 

“Only if you don’t.” 

“Deal.” He concludes, finally turning to look at you while he rinses the soap off the glasses. “Can I have another one?” 

You take out another biscuit, initially extending it over to him before quickly putting it in your mouth before he can even take a bite. “Just kidding, you get the next one.” You mumble while taking out another biscuit, giving it to him this time when he’s done drying his hands, frowning. 

“You’re so mean.” He comments, taking the biscuit from your hand. 

“That’s what you signed up for when you decided on befriending me tonight.” You point out with a laugh, crumpling the wrapper and throwing it in the proper trash bin. 

“Anyway, aren’t you tired? Should we go now?” He changes the topic after a while, walking over to the bench where you left your things. 

You follow him, taking your jacket from the chair you previously occupied on the way. “Yeah before the RA kills me.” 

He laughs. “Strict?”

“Not used to me staying out at this hour.” You correct, pointing at your bag when he picks it up and slings it over his shoulder. “You don’t have to.” 

“This is what you signed up for when you agreed to let me walk you back.” He throws your comeback at you this time as he takes your laptop and sketchbook. “Come on, before your RA kills you.” 

With a defeated sigh, you follow Chan out, almost missing the way Jisung and Changbin follow the two of you with curious eyes as you pass by the lounge once again. 

“Do you think...” Jisung asks Changbin, not even needing to finish his question to get it across as Changbin fervently nods. 

“I think so too.” Changbin replies, taking out his phone. “Should we tell Seungmin?”

12:50 AM

Eventually you reach the West gate. You stop on the side of the overpass, making Chan stop walking as well. 

“I can walk on my own from here, it’s okay.” You smile reassuringly up at him. “Thanks for walking me all the way here again.” 

He shakes his head, not showing any hint of letting go of your things. “I can walk you to your dorm entrance, though.” 

You gesture over to your dorm building with an amused laugh, “It’s literally right next to the other end of the overpass. I don’t want you walking back with an extra distance.” When his skeptical look doesn’t fade away, you sigh but with an appreciative smile. “If you’re worried so much, you can just watch me from here then I’ll wave at you from the other side.” 

After a moment, he finally gives in, handing you your belongings then stepping back so you can go up the overpass stairs. “Okay, okay.”

Such a gentleman, you muse internally to yourself as you take a step up the stairs, still facing him. “Goodnight, Chan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He returns the greeting to you, hesitating on the last minute to give you a hug like he would do with his close friends. That’s too weird you just talked today, he reminds himself.  

You pretend not to notice the way he almost extended his arms out for a hug, secretly feeling shy yourself. “I’ll see you when I see you?” 

“How about the gig before break?” He asks, another question lingering in his mind but he decides on not asking it as a follow-up. 

You nod in agreement, “I’ll be there, of course, you mentioned it a while ago.”

You’re about to turn around and walk up the overpass at noticing that he doesn’t show any sign of wanting to say anything else when you suddenly hear him ask behind you, “How about on a nearer date?” which makes you turn back around to face him. “How about—tomorrow?”

Shrugging as if nonchalantly, you ask back, “What about it?” 

He hesitates again for a while before taking a small step forward so he’s looking up at you now from the bottom of the stairs. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow, if you’re free that is.” 

You feel your heart flutter ever so slightly at this but you quickly force yourself to ignore it. “That doesn’t sound too fun.” 

“What?” He frowns in genuine disappointment, almost making your teasing gaze soften. 

“I meant where’s the fun in tonight if we meet again soon?” You clarify. “Just wait until your gig next week!” 

He opens his mouth to speak but you’re already walking backwards up the stairs, adding, “And don’t try looking for me in the Fine Arts building, you should know I hide around there well! Goodnight, Chan! Thank you for tonight!” 

With a final smile his way, you finally turn around and walk up the overpass, glancing over to him again when you reach the very top and begin crossing the bridge. As the two of you agreed, he remained by the side of the overpass, watching you carefully even when there’s barely any people on the bridge anymore. 

In under a minute, you’ve reached the halfway mark of the other stairway where you can still see Chan clearly amidst the never-ending flow of cars. You raise a hand above your head, waving to him until he waves back.

Since you’re so far away, you miss the way Chan sighs before sending a dimpled smile your way. He contemplates on asking Seungmin more about you later. 

With that, you then proceed back to your dorms, disappearing from Chan’s sight when you enter your dorm building. He takes that as his cue to head back to his own dorm. 

“Next Saturday’s too far.” He huffs in frustration, sparing one last glance in the direction of your dorm building before passing through the West gate once again. 

Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of talking to you again. 

1:00 AM

Chan arrives back in the dorm building, immediately bombarded by Jisung and Changbin who hold his belongings with teasing looks. 

“So you were with Y/N, huh?” Jisung starts, hugging Chan’s laptop to his chest tightly. “Why were you two together?” 

Chan raises an eyebrow, not really knowing where this ‘interrogation’ is going. “I bumped into them at the library when it was full so I offered we share a table at 325.” 

“That’s all?” Changbin asks this time, his arms crossed in front of his chest while Chan’s backpack hangs loosely on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s all,” Chan nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing now. “Why? And why do you have my backpack.”

The two younger boys shake their head at the same time. 

“Oh, nothing.” Jisung dissmises with a small wave. “Just curious.”

As if on cue, Chan’s phone rings its message alert. 

seungmin: SO I HEARD U WENT OUT ON A DATE W Y/N [sent 1:04 AM]

[methoxyethane]

Someone had been creeping up on Lance’s high scores lately.

Lance had been going to this arcade since he was ten years old, back when all the best games were just being installed like Ms. Pac-Man and Galaga. Now half the games had changed but Lance’s favorites were still around, and he had been working on beating his own high scores for the last seven years - as well as mastering every new game that came in.

Lance was so familiar with this arcade, his home turf, that he even knew all of the regulars by face, and most by name. So when a new guy started looming around and a new set of initials started climbing their way up the leaderboard, it was easy to connect one dot with two.

The guy he suspected was here now, focused on a game of Afterburner, leaning over the game just enough to make his red leather jacket ride up so Lance could see the shape of his ass in tight black denim. Not that Lance typically spent a whole lot of time looking at dude’s asses, but. When perfection was in front of you, it warranted notice.

Speaking of perfection, this guy was totally making Afterburner his bitch. Lance watched him from behind, annihilating enemy ships and smoothly flying through the skies, dodging enemy fire without so much as skimming the ground as it flipped upside down and back again.

“You’re pretty good,” Lance said after a while, leaning up against the arcade machine to get his attention. “You’re KKS, right?”

The newcomer - KKS - nodded. “Keith Kogane-Shirogane,” he said, eyes not peeling away from the screen as he blew a dismissive bubble of pink gum out of his mouth.

Lance whistled. “Quite a mouthful. Mind if I just call you Keith?”

“If you feel the need to talk to me,” was Keith’s clipped reply.

Lance grinned to himself. He wanted to be annoyed at this guy's dismissive attitude, but instead all Lance could think was that that eyeliner looked really cute on him. Made him look like some kind of hard rock punk kitten. Even his standoffish vibe was kind of working for Lance.

Did he dare try to pick up a dude at his regular hangout spot, though? Did he want everyone in the arcade to know he liked men?

“What about you?” Keith asked through his bubblegum. “You got a name, or are you just some kind of creep?”

Yeah, fuck it. If anyone noticed him hitting on Keithy-kitten here and didn’t like it, they could just fuck right off. This was Miami, baby, and anything rolled in the City of Magic. “I’m Lance,” he said, still torn between watching the Afterbuner game Keith was wrecking and Keith’s face as he did it. “Also known as ‘LEM.’”

“I figured,” Keith said, and Lance watched as he divebombed into the ground to take out his last two lives and finish up the game. “If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t be strutting around like you own the place.”

He punched in his initials and finally turned to regard Lance, eyes flickering up and down Lance to give him a good once-over. “So tell me what’s up, Lance? Just come over here to ruin my concentration?”

“You were doing just fine even with me here,” Lance said easily. “I was just wondering if you wanted to play doubles with me. You know, partner up for a few rounds.”

Keith’s bubblegum snapped as he considered, before he shrugged. “If you got the quarters.”

Lance grinned. They went for Pac-Man first, Lance paying for Keith’s game as they both started up on opposite ends of the screen. And if one of them individually was good the two of them together were phenomenal, blasting through levels at top speed and racking up points like they were nothing.

Lance bumped his hips against Keith’s multiple times while they were playing, using the loading screens between levels to flirt with Keith and generally brush against him as much as possible.

They switched over to Galaga after a while, but multiplayer on this game was just taking turns. It left Lance with more time to concentrate on flirting with Keith, testing the limits of what the other gamer would put up with in terms of Lance’s bad pick up lines. Keith didn’t talk much, still chewing absently on his gum as he annihilated his turn at the game, but he didn’t tell Lance to fuck off and sometimes he’d lightly kick at him or bump his hip against Lance’s, which Lance was fairly confident to be his way of flirting back.

“You know, most guys would probably throw the game so I can get my turn faster. If they were trying this hard to impress me.” Keith mentioned idly, leaning against the machine as he waited for his turn.

“How’s that supposed to impress you?” Lance said back, taking his eyes off the game long enough to glance at Keith. “You want someone who will lay down at your feet, or someone you can actually play with?”

Keith smirked, and it looked like Lance had passed whatever test he was playing at. So Lance made his move, abandoning the game mid-level to turn to Keith and ask, “So what does it take for a guy to get your phone number, then?”

Keith stared at him for a long second, considering. Then, he pointed to the wall behind the counter, declaring, “I’ve had my eye on that pink hippo on the wall. Win it for me, and I’ll go out with you.”

Lance’s eyes widened. The hippo on the wall was no joke - the thing was massive, a cheerful pink plush monster with huge smiling jaws, and it cost 3,000 tickets to win.

They’d already earned a few tickets just from goofing off all night. And Lance still had a stash of tickets of his own just from coming here so often, which meant…

Lance nodded firmly. “I’ll win it for you before this place closes tonight.”

A thick black eyebrow raised. “You think you can do it all in one night?” He said, genuinely interested for the first time all night.

“I can’t let you get away, can I?” Lance grinned at him. “I won’t get a chance like this again.”

Keith smiled, leaning himself against the wall. “Well then. I gotta see this.”

It did in fact, take all night. Lance started with skeeball, because it was a fast way to wrack up tickets with his perfect aim. Keith even had the decency to look impressed as Lance scored bullseye after bullseye, until his arms got tired and his aim started to falter.

Other than that his best two games were Duck Hunt and Donkey Kong, and a few hours straining his eyes on each and he finally had the tickets he needed. He slammed them down on the counter fifteen minutes before closing time, pointing to the hippo on the wall with a grin that bordered on feral.

And then the best part happened. Lance handed the stuffed animal off to Keith, who took it iot his arms with wide eyes and a slight bush tinging his cheeks.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually got it for me,” he said, actual human emotion in his voice for the first time all night. “It’s so cute…” he rubbed his face against the doll’s, smiling happily as he declared, “And so much softer than he looks. I thought it would be cheap for sure but this is actually a really nice plush.”

He stopped cuddling the doll to blink up at Lance, his blush fully overtaking his face. “I suppose this means I owe you a date.”

“If you have the time,” Lance said casually, fully enjoying everything he learned about Keith as they got to know each other. He knew the guy was cute, but he hadn’t expected THIS level of adorable.

Keith used the free hand not currently cradling an oversized plush to flip his hair off his neck. “You can start by walking me home.”

Offering his arm, Lance escalated his date out of the arcade. “After you, my lovely.

Behind them, the guy at the ticket counter rolled his eyes. No one noticed.

—

[anonniemousefics]

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, especially your writings of kanej! Anyway, I would love to see you write something about jealousy from either kaz or inej, I just think it would be interesting to see your take on it! Obviously you don’t have to, I love your work! You’re a great writer!

❤️ Thank you so much!! This was so sweet to receive, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this to you! So, hopefully you’re cool with this, but I decided to apply this idea in a modern AU because I have another request I’m also working on for a modern AU and this felt like an opportunity for some more practice. 😊 (And it just made it more fun for me -- idk, my brain just needed to do something new with these characters to make this work.) 

Samples - Modern AU

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 3,545

Rating: Teen And Up (Language)

“Who did this?”

All of Kaz’s friends were doubling over in laughter around the round hand-me-down table in Kaz and Jesper’s apartment. There were black and white Cards Against Humanity prompts spread across its surface – the most offensive combination of which had Inej, well, and everyone else, in fits.

What made my first kiss so awkward? had been the prompt Inej had drawn.

To which Kaz had submitted the following, randomly-selected card for her consideration – Announcing that I am about to cum. And then kept his poker face locked in place.

“Who did this?” Inej was demanding again, clutching her stomach.

Kaz wasn’t sure why he was hesitating -- something strange was happening while all of this was playing out. Nina had one hand on Inej’s arm while she was fairly screeching with laughter. Inej was slumping against Jesper, like the laugh was shaking her boneless. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was noticing how they were each exchanging these casual, unconscious touches in the midst of their mirth – Matthias turning his face against Nina’s shoulder, Wylan slapping Jesper’s shoulder.

No one was touching Kaz, though – which, that was good, though, right? That was because they were his friends, and they were thoughtful, and they knew all about The Very Sad Thing that had made him the way that he was.

And yet --

Kaz couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He should be laughing, though, he realized. A normal person would be laughing, given the infectious nature of laughter. And also it was genuinely a really funny card – that’s why he’d played it. But all he could do was force a smile, and that was it.

He suddenly felt like an alien among them.

“Was it you?!” Inej was exclaiming, waving the card at him. Kaz designed what he hoped was a coy smirk for her.

“Are you saying that’s your favorite?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It was you.” Inej looked appalled, which only made everyone around the table hoot louder. Kaz was still smirking as she threw his winning card back at him with a mischievous, red-faced grin on her face.

“Oh, my God, Brekker.” Nina was wiping the tears off her apple-red cheeks.

“Why does that make it so much worse?” Matthias wondered, since he evidently could never not take a jab at Kaz. He scrubbed his eyes like he needed to wash them out.

And still not a single laugh out of Kaz’s body – this was disturbing. How long had he been this way? And why did he care so much all of a sudden?

“Guys, I’m pretty sure he won,” Wylan was saying, pointing at Kaz’s stack of wins. Had he? Everyone turned to count their cards.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even been paying attention to winning? But Kaz loved winning. It was the only reason he tolerated his roommate hosting these raucous game nights – because it meant Kaz could win things. And usually a lot of things. It was especially choice winning things off of Matthias Helvar, Nina’s latest lughead boyfriend she’d met at the gym, who now had to be invited to everything even though he sucked. He was always cuddling close to Nina, putting his arm around her, whispering gross things in her ear that made her giggle insufferably. It was so fucking uncomfortable.

Kaz never acted that way around Inej, and they’d been together for years. Sort of. Not always officially. It really had only been officially lately, but Kaz had always told himself he wasn’t one to need to put labels on things. Inej knewhow he felt – he knew this. (Did he, though?) He definitely knew this. (No, he didn’t.) There was no need to be like Matthias fucking Helvar and canoodle her in front of everyone on game night.

Oh, God. Kaz was suddenly having a realization, right there in the middle of counting his cards.

Oh, God.

He was jealous of Matthias Helvar.

Oh, this sucked.

This really fucking sucked. Kaz thought no one in their right mind should ever be jealous of that big dumb fuck, with his protein shakes and his weirdly popular fitspo Instagram page. The guy looked like he ate nothing but wild-caught salmon and organic broccoli. He wasn’t funny, and he’d say weirdly spiritual shit at socially unacceptable times. He probably spent his weekends doing annoying, on-brand fuckery like being one with nature and brewing his own kombucha, that asshole.

And this was the guy who felt comfortable enough to kiss a girl’s ear in a total stranger’s apartment. (Well, not a total stranger, Kaz would relinquish that – Nina had been dating Matthias for three months.) Matthias Helvar was doing all that nothing with his life, and he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious.

Ugh. Kaz hated that guy. Worse! Kaz wanted to be that guy. Minus the kombucha and the religious stuff. And the gym membership. And probably the protein shakes.

Ok, fine, Kaz was only interested in the PDA. This was so fucking awful.

“What number were we playing to?” he heard himself ask. He wasn’t even paying attention to card counting. He was going to have to start again.

“Can’t count that high, Brekker?” Matthias asked, smirking, and there was always something Kaz took as halfway serious in the way he tried to joke.

“Die in a fire, Helvar,” he said, with a smile that was as good as a middle finger.

“And on that note!” Nina sung out, standing with a hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. I have an eight a.m. class. We gotta call it a night.”

“Matthias drove us,” Inej explained to Kaz’s questioning look at the word “We.”

Inej and Nina were roommates, too, like Kaz and Jesper, but the two girls lived on campus in the dorms at Ketterdam University, where all but Matthias attended. (Fucking Matthias, who was a personal trainer and got money from wellness companies to tout their shit on his Instagram. Ugh.) Wylan, Jesper’s boyfriend, was also living in the dorms this year, after spending his freshmen year commuting from his dad’s enormous house. Wylan had been the one with the car before Kaz had finally scraped together the money for one, but his dad had cut him off over the summer. Kaz didn’t know much about that beyond what little Jesper had told him, which, in summary, was: goodbye, car; hello, dorm life.

“You should have said something – I could have picked you all up,” Kaz said, mostly to Inej, as the others were standing from the table.

Nina reached a tentative hand out to gently touch his shoulder, well-protected by the fabric of his black v-neck.

“Kaz,” she said, gingerly, “we love you, but Matthias has functioning air conditioning.”

Kaz slid his glance toward Inej, who gave a little confirming nod, pressing back her amused smile.

“My thighs don’t stick to the seats in his car,” she explained, softly, which may as well have been a knife to the gut. He loved driving her around in his car. And, to top it off, she was in a pair of really adorable denim cut offs, her legs deeply tan from the summer sun, and he hadn’t even had the nerve to try to touch her exposed knee all night. (Meanwhile, Hands-On Helvar over here had been sitting with his palm all over Nina’s plentiful thighs all night. God, he was so gross. Couldn’t Kaz be just a little bit gross?)

“Are you okay?” Inej was asking. She was stepping a little closer to him away from where everyone else was putting on shoes, preparing to leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her loose, purple crop-top, and her long, dark braid was pulled over her shoulder – just mercilessly cute all over. And he hadn’t touched her all night.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he kept his hands in his jeans pockets. Inej’s dark brows knit together.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” she checked. Kaz huffed a laugh – how was he supposed to answer that? Realistically, he should lie.

“Probably not,” he admitted anyway, and gave a shrug. Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Nina called to her from the doorway of the apartment.

“Sorry! Eight a.m. class! She’s going to text you from the car anyway!” Nina was shouting.

“She’s not wrong,” Inej shrugged with a smile. And reached out to barely brush her hand against his spine, like the first attempt at a hug. But Kaz could only bunch up his shoulders, hands stuffed deeper into his pockets. Why was he like this?

There were a few more awkward goodbyes at the doorway, including Matthias’ one-more last-minute sales pitch on the recent CBD-infused green powder drink he was hawking online. (“I’ll bring you some samples next week. They say it’s excellent for chronic pain.” Kaz had flipped him off when his back was turned.)

But then, once they’d all gone and the apartment was quiet, Kaz felt like he was rolling in regret.

“You doing ok?” Jesper asked him, gathering up the empty Solo cups for the trash. Jesper was a really good roommate. They’d been randomly assigned the same dorm room at the beginning of freshmen year, and it just worked. Jesper’s high energy plus Kaz’s insomnia were meant to be. They liked all the same things: strong coffee, getting paid dirty money to write other people’s papers for them, and occasionally clearing the mind by playing Call of Duty all night. They’d moved off campus the following year (a better move for the plagiarism operation), never even really having a conversation about whether or not to room with someone else. It was not even a question, and who else would Kaz even want to room with?

“You’ve seemed off all night,” Jesper was pointing out, and if Kaz had half a brain, he knew he should have been asking Jesper for advice about PDA long before it had reached envying-Matthias-Helvar-levels. Jesper and Wylan were normal in public. When they held hands or hugged or traded kisses, it wasn’t some fucking scene.

But how was he even supposed to bring this up to Jesper?

“Helvar’s such a dillweed,” was all he could find to complain. Jesper snorted.

“He is not that bad,” he said, dumping a stack of Solo cups into the trash.

“He’s the literal worst,” Kaz objected. “I can’t believe he unironically called himself an influencer.” And at that, Jesper pretended to barf into the trashcan.

“Yeah, no, you’re right – that was dumb,” he said. “I commend you for not cutting off your own ears when he did.”

“We are not buying his stupid fucking green juice,” Kaz said, pointing at Jesper to show he meant business.

“Good!” Jesper agreed. “Nina says it gives him the shits.”

And that brought Kaz some comfort. He found he could smirk about it while he loaded up the dishwasher. He was starting it up when his phone buzzed on the counter. He leaned over to read it.

Inej: You seemed sad tonight.

Inej’s contact photo in his phone was one he’d snapped when she wasn’t looking – she was leaning her head back with her eyes closed, taking in the sunshine. It had made her brown skin glimmer and dazzle.

Kaz stared at her text for probably too long. Long enough for Jesper to peer around the corner of the kitchen doorway at him.

“I’m going to bed – everything okay?” he said, and cocked his head. “Is it another last minute job?” Those kinds of jobs – the ones where a student was giving up the night before something massive was due – paid the most, but for good reason. They were absolutely fucking miserable to pull off.

“No,” Kaz shook his head. “Just Inej.”

It was never “just Inej” – and Jesper nodded like he knew that.

“Hey, Kaz,” he said, as he began to leave for his bedroom. Kaz looked up at him sidelong as he mouthed, barely audible: “Tell her what’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Kaz rolled his eyes. And heaved a heavy sigh.

And started typing.

Kaz: I guess I was a little.

Whoa, pressing send on that was unpleasant. He wandered over to his preferred recliner in the living room and flopped back in it. Shoved the footrest up to elevate his bad leg. Ugh. Just ugh to everything and everyone. He looked down at his phone again.

And Inej had been quick to respond.

Inej: You can tell me these things, you know.

Inej: I know I won’t always have the right thing to say, but I want to be there for you.

Inej. Why are you being so perfect so far away?

Why are you wasting your time with a boyfriend who struggles to touch you?

Inej: Are you writing a novel?

He’d been writing and rewriting the same sentence twenty different times. She’d probably been looking at those ominous three bobbing dots for way too long.

Ugh. God. Fine. Kaz drew in a long deep breath, staring up at the ceiling like it could intervene and come to his aid. And then fucking wrote.

Kaz: I wish things were different

Kaz: I wish I wasn’t so fucked

Kaz: I wish I knew how to be a better boyfriend – how to make you blush and laugh and make that one smile that’s like you’re telling secrets with your eyes

He pushed the recliner back as far as it would go. Maybe it would tip and dump him on his head and he’d have to go to the hospital, and that would at least delay Inej inevitably breaking up with him for being this pathetic wet blanket. The phone buzzed again, and he almost didn’t want to look.

Inej: Um, where were you all night? You literally had me doing all those things all night

Huh. That wasn’t how he remembered it.

Kaz: On the opposite side of the table from you

Kaz: Watching basically everyone else be able to touch you but me

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That sounded so petulant, and he’d already pressed send. That sounded so needy and disgusting. Who said that kind of shit? Not even Matthias Helvar said that kind of shit. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. No, out the window. No, out into the sea.

Now he was on the receiving end of the three bobbing dots of doom. Fuuuuck.

Kaz: Can we just forget I said that?

More dots. Then nothing.

Then dots.

Inej: I don’t know. You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.

At that, Kaz raised his eyebrows.

Kaz: I am not jealous.

Inej: You’re a little jealous

Kaz: No, I feel insufficient.

(Oooof. That was like trying to throw an anvil. Painful.)

Inej: Oh

Kaz was watching the texts come in from beneath his arm now, holding the phone high over his head. Like watching the slasher scenes in a horror movie.

Inej: I mean

Inej: It seems like you’re just splitting hairs here

Inej: Since you must think others are sufficient in ways you are not, so you envy them

…

Kaz: Touche, Ghafa.

And he couldn’t help smiling to himself when Inej sent him a gif of a swashbuckling cartoon Robin Hood brandishing a sword. Then another text bubble appeared.

Inej: You are not insufficient to me, Kaz.

He really wanted to believe that.

Kaz: Even if I’m not hanging all over you and amassing a truly staggering number of Instagram followers with my six-pack abs?

Inej: O.M.G.

Inej: Kaz

Inej: Brekker

Oh, God, what had he done?

Inej: Are you *jealous* of Matthias?

Uggghh, he was going to be sick.

Kaz: Fuck no

Kaz: It was just a hypothetical

Kaz: It was an exaggeration

Kaz: I could do the same thing with any one of our friends

Kaz: And we all know the abs are photoshopped anyway

Inej: OMG

Kaz: What now

Inej: You called Matthias our friend

Kaz wanted to stab himself in the brain.

Inej: I’m gonna tell him

Kaz: Don’t you fucking dare

Inej: I already did

Kaz: What? How? How are you that fast?

Inej: Still in the car

Kaz: ????

There was no reason for that – the dorms were hardly a 10-minute drive. Now Kaz’s brain was assaulting him with a thousand reasons things his girlfriend could still be doing in a car (A nice car! With working air conditioning!) with a personal trainer/amateur Instagram model, and none of them were pleasant or welcome thoughts. The phone buzzed again.

Inej: I asked him to bring me back to you. :)

At that, Kaz straightened the recliner, rising to his feet as fast as his stiff leg would allow.

Kaz: You did? And he did? Why?

He was limping toward the front door.

Inej: Because he’s not terrible, Kaz. And because I guess I missed your car after all ;)

Jesper and Kaz’s apartment was the third floor of a wonky old Victorian home that had once been something grand and only recently had been split into three different abodes – which was definitely the worst decision the two of them had made as roommates. Kaz was leaning hard against the railing as he took to the steps when the front door of the building banged shut below. And then there on the landing below was Inej, wearing a sheepish smile in the yellow, buzzing fluorescence of the hall light. She was holding her phone in one hand, her tan leather purse slung across her slim body.

“I thought you looked like you could use a hug,” she said, as she pocketed her phone.

Kaz took the last two stairs carefully, coming to stand in front of her. She smelled like vanilla and coconut oil – like something he wanted to wake up to every morning.

“You came all the way back for a hug,” he wanted to clarify. His hands – he should do something with his hands. What would Matthias do with his hands?

No. What do I want to do with my hands?

So, he looped a couple fingers through her belt loops. Tugged her a little closer. And she smiled.

“Technically,” she said, “Matthias came all the way back so I could bring you some samples.” She patted her purse, which did look a little bulkier. “They were in his car the whole time.”

“Mmmm.” He pretended to look tantalized. “Hot car samples. Delicious.”

Inej was twisting her fingers in the t-shirt fabric at the crest of his hips. Tugging him a little closer, too. God, it was so good. She’d been so right. He had wanted a hug.

“I know that’s how I want my protein powder,” she teased. “Piping hot, right out of the oven.”

“Just how Ma used to make it,” Kaz added, with a good bit of feigned nostalgia. Inej blurted out a laugh, tipping forward until her forehead bumped his sternum.

At that first brush, it was like his hands knew what to do from there. They slipped around her waist while her hands slid around his. And she pressed her cheek against his chest while he held her close.

“You are not insufficient,” Inej said against him.

“I would really like to pretend that never happened,” he said with a sigh, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Too late,” she hummed, happily, and gave him a light squeeze. He smiled against her hair.

“You know I wouldn’t want you to be like Matthias, right?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t even want Matthias to be like Matthias,” Kaz grumbled.

“Hey,” and Inej pulled back to look up at him with her big, soft brown eyes. “I mean it. I just want you to be you. I don’t want all the handsy stuff. That’s what Nina likes. I just like you.”

Kaz carefully pushed back a few strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Not even a little handsy stuff?” he checked, which made Inej give her coy little smirk, his very favorite.

“Maybe a little handsy stuff,” she said.

If there were ever going to be a time to kiss her, it would be now. But when he thought it, Kaz felt his heart make an enormous leap into his throat, seizing in panic. If he touched her mouth with his, if he closed his eyes and felt her face so close to his, would he just end up floundering in The Very Sad Thing again? What if it happened while he was kissing her? Would every kiss after that be tainted? Could he risk it – could he ever?

So, he didn’t move to meet her lips. He let his hands fall to the small of her back, though, and kept her close for another moment. Like a sample of physical affection, and she seemed okay with that. He would will himself to believe it was not insufficient.

“Drive me home?” she asked after a moment, with a kind of sweet, eager anticipation that made Kaz believe in magic. He nodded, of course.

“I’ll go up and get my keys,” he said. “And you throw away those samples.”

Inej laughed, following him up.

“Deal,” she said.

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

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

[loveydoveyfrog]

fallingforyou pt.1

Um hi I haven’t written anything in years I’m sorry if this sucks. I might continue this? idk yet I’ve just had this particular scenario stuck in my head for days.  I tried to make it as inclusive as possible, but if you notice me doing anything that really limits that, please let me know! I’m always always looking to improve :> thank you!! (also if u find a grammar/spelling mistake plz lmk so i can fix)

-            -               -              -              -                -

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Reader Words: 1.7k  Warnings: None? Tripping on stairs but you don’t get hurt.  Part 2

You gathered your notes, breathing a sigh of relief as your long morning lecture finally came to an end. You loved your course, of course. You wouldn’t be paying to study it at university if you didn’t, but you had to admit a three hour lecture on a Monday morning could feel more like a chore than a passion.. Your best friend and faithful study buddy joined your side as you grabbed your fleece lined denim jacket and shrugged it on, slinging your bag over your shoulder, eager to leave. Before you step forward, your friend stops you in your tracks.

“Hold on, your hair clip is all crooked,” they attempt to fix it, but instead unclip it and hand it to you instead. You take your Halloween pumpkin decoration and clip it back into your hair, posing a little for your friend, wordlessly asking how does it look? 

“Perfectly spooky” they said with a thumbs up. You and your friend had a shared tradition of wearing Halloween accessories throughout October in celebration of the best and spookiest holiday. Today you wore a small, sparkly yet quaint pumpkin clip in your hair, whilst your friend opted for some novelty socks. You thank your lecturer as you leave, yet the second the two of you left the room and were out of earshot, your friend sighed loudly and began to whine about this section of your shared course.

“Did you get ANY of that?” they asked as you headed for the doors that led to the staircase.

“Which part? We covered quite a bit.” you respond idly, pushing the doors open and letting them pass first. 

“ALL OF IT. Ugh, I miss our lecturer from last year, he made everything so much clearer.” they continued to complain as you started to make your way down the stairs after them. After a few steps, lost in conversation regarding the class, you accidentally misplaced your footing on the stairs. Your breath hitched. The next few seconds seemed to slow down to a painful crawl as you felt every sensation in detail; the way you didn’t feel the security of the next step beneath your foot, the way your centre of gravity shifted and tipped you forward, the way your stomach dropped and your eyes shut instinctively to avoid looking at the quickly approaching ground, the way a hand caught a firm grip on the back of your jacket’s collar, keeping you suspended in mid fall.

Huh?

Your eyes blinked open, heart hammering as the lights suddenly seemed too bright, every sense amplified from shock. You immediately notice you didn’t feel the harsh impact that you were expecting. Instead, you felt a tension around your neck and shoulders as your jacket was pulled taut to keep you somewhat upright. Your friend’s eyes were equally wide with surprise, not having time to ask if you’re ok before their eyes shifted to the figure behind you. Their stunned expression was met with a deep chuckle, one you felt rumble through you as they pulled your form back to press ever so gently against their chest, hand placed firmly on your shoulder now, as if to prevent you from falling again. You turned your head to thank whoever caught you, though given they were quite a bit taller than you, you had to slightly twist your body out of their grip to face them (though you noticed their hand moved from holding your shoulder to resting against your arm). 

If your face wasn’t hot from embarrassment already, it sure was now. Your thank you was caught in your throat when you turned to face your mysterious saviour. You definitely heard a quiet wow go through your head when you were met with warm, amused brown eyes, and a smile that melted into another round of chuckling as his hand left your arm to brush through a mass of bleached yet brilliantly blonde hair. He seemed… somewhat familiar, but you didn’t recognise him from any of your classes. Either way, your heart was flooded with relief that he happened to be behind you. You took in more of his appearance; the way his dark eyes looked as though they were liquid honey when the light hit them just right, and the way his dark green hoodie matched said eyes perfectly, and the way… those glowing eyes followed yours as his humoured expression altered, a new kind of tone present in his smile, one which made you realise you were staring at him as though he was made of gold. You quickly snapped out of it, your face growing even hotter for having been caught looking at him for so long without even saying thank you.

“Sorry- I mean, thank you,” you stuttered. The boy before you smiled again and let out a pleased hum. His eyes caught the sparkly, Halloween themed clip in your hair. Cute, he thought to himself as his eyes met yours yet again.

“No worries, ya just need to be more careful, Pumpkin,” he mused. The nickname made you flush yet again as you tore your eyes away from his intense gaze. This interaction seemed to last forever. “Do you need me to walk you down the stairs? We’ve still got quite a bit to go,” he teased, though his voice didn’t seem to be laced with the malice of a typical bully. He sounded playful. 

“No, thank you,” you responded curtly, walking down the last few steps to where your friend still stood. Their eyes glinted with entertainment and poked you in the side. You lightly slapped their hands away and nudged them to continue down the last set of stairs.

“Well, I’m right behind ya if ya need me,” he said leisurely, walking a couple of steps behind you. You didn’t respond, only walked in embarrassed silence as your friend tried (and failed) to hold back their giggles at the boy’s comment. He had a proud grin on his face, basking in the attention and laughs from your traitorous friend. The journey down seemed to last a century, but eventually you made it down safely. Heading out the double doors, you breathed in the crisp Autumn air as it cooled your warm cheeks. You readjusted your jacket as you and your friend regrouped. You avoided their eyes, though in the process you caught the attention of Stair Boy. He flashed you a smile and waved as he passed the pair of you.

“See ya ‘round, Pumpkin.” 

You watched him till he turned a corner and disappeared behind a building, after which you promptly slammed your face into your palms, muttering incoherent nonsense as your friend finally lost it and doubled over and cried with laughter. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face, tugging your lower eyelids and cheeks with dismay.

“Oh my Goddddd, I can’t believe that just happened” you whined, growing more and more annoyed with your friend’s incessant laughter. “OKAY I get it, it was funny, shut up now.” you snapped. Your friend started walking as they took deep breaths to calm down. You followed, arms crossed.

“Okay, I’m sorry, you just really. You really FELL FOR HIM,” they managed to choke out as they spiralled into another fit of laughter. You punched their arm.

“He was BEHIND me! I couldn’t have fallen for him if he was behind me, I didn’t even see him!” You exclaimed as you tried to defend yourself, waving your arms around madly trying to illustrate your point.

“Alright, alright… Pumpkin,” they teased. Had you not been outside, you would have thrown a shoe at your supposed best friend. They saw anger flash in your eyes and dodged your oncoming attacks as they ran away a giggling mess. You chased them a few meters then jogged to a stop, panting in the burning cold air. You waved an arm with a dismissive whatever. The two of you approached one of the campus cafes, the entrance adorned with paper bats, window sills draped in cotton cobwebs and the door guarded by a pair of crudely carved pumpkins. The two of you entered, the door’s usual bell drowned out by chatter that filled the small, cosy space. You flopped into one of the seats, shrugging off your now infamous jacket and rested your chin in your hands, letting out a long sigh. Your friend sat beside you, mirroring your actions. 

“Well, hey, at least no one else saw,” your friend bargained, attempting to lift your low mood.

“True,” you admitted nonchalantly, your eyes still trained on the wall before you. Your friend elbowed your side playfully,

“And he was cute, too,” they quipped. This caused you to groan and lay your head on the table. After a few miserable seconds you turned to face your friend, not lifting your head from the wooden surface,

“Yeah, he was” you agreed with a pout on your face. “And now he’s gonna think I’m a clumsy fool forever and I’m probably never ever gonna see him again.” You planted your face back on the table in defeat. Your friend, on the other hand, shrugged in response. 

“You never know, y/n. Sure the campus is big, but he WAS in our block today, so you might see him again. On Mondays at least,” they suggested. You sighed and rested your chin on the table, shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, maybe, I guess… maybe,” you mumbled. 

“Besides, he definitely thought you were cute too.” This made your head shoot up in curiosity a little too fast. You tried to feign disinterest when you asked,

“What makes you say that?” you looked at your friend expectantly when they gave you a look.

“Pumpkin. Seriously?”

“Ugh,” you gave them another dismissive wave, “That didn’t mean anything. That was only because of this stupid clip.” You pointed to the orange ornament on your head.

“Y/n. He said it twice. Besides, he could have called you nothing at all. Not to mention, didn’t you see the way he looked at you?”

“It just seems like he was teasing me and messing around,” you argued. Your friend sighed and turned to pull a notebook and pens out of their bag.

“Whatever you say, y/n,” they said as they began to summarise their notes from your previous lecture. You tapped your fingers on the table, waiting to see if they’ll make further comments, but they seem to have finally given up. You retrieved your own notes, though the only thing you seemed to be able to focus on was a particular set of brown eyes.

[dasphinxone]

Book of Nile: Cabin Fever WIP

Like, I need to SIT DOWN AND WRITE THIS OUT INSTEAD OF DOING SNIPPETS THO. I’m sorry y’all, I swear I’m writing a full fic of this. Please don’t kill me.

Booker wanders over and starts organizing the ingredients by type on the dark, marble top counter of the kitchen island. Spices are put together, other dry ingredients lined up. He takes out the carton of eggs from the fridge.

“How many eggs do you need?” he looks to Nile next to him.

“Just one,” comes her muffled voice from where she’s leaning over to take full stock of the lower shelves of the pantry.

He diverts his eyes from the sight of her lean legs and her behind clad in short sleeping shorts. Her braids are piled into a cute, messy bun on top of her head. She already has on one of the aprons she found hanging on a hook in the broom closet. How one of his heavily knit, grey cardigans hangs billowy off of her frame over her shorts and tank top sends his heart beating faster.

She’s always borrowing his clothes. Usually it’s his array of denim shirts or old t-shirts that she cuts down at the bottom to fit her. Yet something about seeing her using his sweater as a robe while baking for him? It screams domesticity.

Booker startles at the feel of Nile’s touch to his arm. “I’m thinking a gingerbread cake? Or cupcakes, if we have a muffin tin,” she frowns in contemplation. “Christmas is just around the corner and gingerbread cookies are so blasé, you know?”

His face lights up. “I think I can legitimately say that I have never had gingerbread in cake form.”

“You are definitely in for a treat!” she playfully taps him on the shoulder with a spatula she’s dug up. “It’ll go faster since Copley hooked this place up with the KitchenMade stand mixer to boot. Though you’re going to have to make a hard decision for me, Book.”

He can’t ever seem to say no to her. Not especially with that beautiful smile lighting up her face. For fuck’s sake, she’s wearing his sweater like she owns it.

He rapidly blinks away any fantasies of how incredible she would look wearing just the sweater by itself. The way it would cling to her curve. Teasing him with barely contained views of her beautifully dark, warm skin. Skin that would glisten with sweat after he’s fucked her up against the wall next to the fridge. Her legs wrapped around his waist and heels digging into his ass while she mercilessly tugs at his hair and calls out his real name. All after he’s balanced her on his shoulders while he’s on his knees, devouring her pussy like he’s on a mission to make her scream and forget anyone else who’s come before him…

Stop it, you fucking pervert! he scolds himself in his native language.

He rapidly drags a bar stool from the  counter to the kitchen island and settles in. Mostly so that she can’t see that he’s already half hard. His black sweatpants don’t hide much.

“What would you have of me, mademoiselle?” he bows his head with a flourish of his hand. When he looks back up, she’s beaming even more.

“Soooo, do you mind having your bagels dry or just with butter in the morning versus with cream cheese?” she holds up two packets of it.

Booker purposely curls his mouth in contemplation. “What do I have to gain from the absence of it on said bagel?”

“Cream cheese frosting for the cupcakes?” she pulls a muffin tin from the cabinet of the island and waves it at him.

Booker arches a brow and leans an elbow on the counter to rest his head in his hand. “Well,” he drawls out, “If you insist on spoiling me with cupcakes ma cher,” he sighs with supposed annoyance, “I guess I shall have to acquiesce.  You may proceed,” he waves in dismissal.

Of course, Nile sees how he’s barely holding in a laugh. “Frosting it is!” she declares. Leaning over the island, she brushes her lips to his stubbled cheek while patting his other one with her free hand. “I knew there was a reason why I love you.”

Booker freezes at her declaration as Nile spins back around to the opposite counter to start. She’s greasing the muffin tin, putting the paper cups into them, spraying those with cooking spray and beginning to hum to herself as she usually does when doing this sort of thing. She appears thoroughly unaffected by what she’s just said. Shimmying her shoulders, she asks if he can fire up one of her playlists from the cloud on his laptop. He’s always had access to her music account, so the request isn’t out of the ordinary.

He's glad he has the excuse to exit the area and go grab his laptop from the den. He’s in need of doing a few deep breathing exercises his various therapists over the years have taught him to do whenever he gets overwhelmed. Except it’s always for the bad sort of overwhelmed. Not a  “Oh my fucking God, this woman has just declared she loves me…except I don’t think she meant it in that sort of context? MERDE, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.” 

Either way, Booker all but flees the kitchen.

Nile is glad of it. Because FUCK, she just said she loves him. And yeah, she meant it in a “After all of these decades of having your fine ass so devoted to me and watching my six at all times and sharing beds with you since we're the spares and you willingly helping me do my braids and twists installations for hours on end without being all white boy weird about it? I think I could love you for the near eternity we have together. Plus, I think you’re pretty damn capable of fucking ruining me in bed with your, uh, fucking.”

Nile plants her hands on the countertop and drops her head between her shoulders. Her heart is beating fast in her ears and her skin’s tingling. It’s not fear adrenaline coursing through her. Yet it’s also not quite the effervescent sort of high either. It’s all topsy-turvy, confusing feelings that she doesn’t like. Not because she’s afraid of emotions. More that she can’t sort them out at the damn moment. Combined with the fact that it’s just the two of them in this dream of a cabin? For these next few days to up to weeks, depending on the blizzard? That will be…interesting?

Or a fucking disaster where we end up hating each other but are stuck in the same rooms with no escape, she muses to herself.

She’s frozen to death a handful of times. It’s not a bad way to go; after the numbness sets in and you can’t feel your limbs, you just sort of drift off only to wake from death. However, literally catching one’s death of cold in the middle of a snowy storm in the forest would suck due to the lack of relief from dying over and over again. Sure, she could technically leave if things went horribly between them. Yet that would be a stupid as shit decision.

“Are you alright?”

Nile spins around to find Booker once again sitting on one of the barstools up against the opposite counter. Only now does she notice the music playing over the Bluetooth speakers of the small holo-TV mounted on a wall of the kitchen. It’s her favorite playlist, R&B from the 2010s when she grew up. No matter that the music is nearly 200 years old now, it wraps her in a warm aural blanket of comfort. Meanwhile, Booker looks non-plussed and focused on the screen of his laptop before he looks up  at her. His azure eyes full of concern, he scans around the kitchen.

“You sound like you’re having trouble with something.”

She swiftly plasters a wide smile on her face and stabs a finger down at the screen of her holotablet. “There’s a lot of steps of this recipe-”

“I’ll help,” he cuts her off while scrambling up from his chair, “Anything you need, you want, I can, I mean I will do it.”

I’d like for you to eat me out on your knees and fuck me up against one of these counters.

Nile swallows, trying to rid herself of the filthy thought. The thing is, he’s wearing this light blue Henley that’s so tight across his chest that it doesn’t look like he could close up the buttons of it even if he wanted to. There’s a teasing peek of dark blonde chest hair at the low V of the shirt’s neckline she’s struggling to not stare at. On top of that, he’s had the nerve to shove up the sleeves to reveal his forearms.

Instead, Nile closes her eyes and takes a few deep breathes. She hopes it comes off as annoyed with the recipe versus reigning in her self-control to not just jump him and climb him like a tree. 

“The recipe calls for making gingerbread men to use to decorate the cupcakes with, though it’s not necessary,” she breathes out. “Did you want to go the hard or easy route for this recipe?”

Booker grins, eyes meeting hers. “À la dure,” he drawls.

“The hard way?” Nile translates, hoping her breath doesn’t hitch. Is he doing some sort of double-entendre thing just to fuck with her?

He shrugs. “It’s not as though we don’t have the time.” Moving around the counter to saunter up to her side, he looks down at her holotablet. “You far outdo me when it comes to baking, but I think I can manage cookies.” He opens a new tab and searches for a gingerbread cookie recipe. Finding one, he quickly reads over it. “So long as you can ice them?” he holds up the tablet for her to take in the cute picture.

Nile slightly steps away from him. Mostly on account that he smells so good (fresh soap…is that a hint of his usual spicy, citrusy cologne?) and feels so warm with one of his arms flush to hers. “We don’t have cookie cutters here, but you can bake them round and we can ice faces or ornaments on them.”

“It’s a deal,” he holds out a hand to shake hers.

Looks like their project for this afternoon is set.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Erik walking in on the reader masturbating and she tries to cover herself with embarrassment

Bruce "Viper" Holmes. A notorious mobster and drug lord in Miami since the late 1980s. He had three older sons but one of them disowned his father and moved away to private property in the Virgin Islands with his wife and the other two were murdered. He has a daughter too, around 23 years old, a recent college graduate and her father's soft spot. She's a flower in the barrel of a gun. Calm his raging murderous storm. Bruce has her on a 24/7 watch with constant bodyguards. She really wanted to live on her own but they both knew that if she did, someone out there would try and kill her to get revenge for losing a loved one of their own because of Bruce. Then there is Killmonger. Bruce's personal hitman. He's been working with Bruce for years, a trusted partner who got the job done. Erik came and went whenever he had to pay a visit to Bruce. There was a new job that would earn him 1.8 million so Erik wasn't about to let that go. He showed up, dressed in all black and earning many scowls from Bruce's men. Erik could take out that entire room if he wanted to but Bruce paid him so well. Before he could step into his office, a girl opens the door, standing before Erik wearing a pair of tiny denim shorts, a fitted white crop top and her curly fro pulled up into a neat top knot bun. Erik took a cautious step back, fully admiring the girl from head to toe. Sexy as a motherfucker for sure. A little young but not too young.

"You must be Killmonger," She says with no regard. “How do you know who the fuck I am?”

“My father was saying something about you looking after me since my favorite bodyguard got shot and killed a week back. He told me to pick and I chose you.”

This didn’t sound like it involved earning 1.8 million dollars. This was a damn babysitting job. She was a grown-ass woman, not a kindergartner. 

“Is he in there?” Erik didn’t care that he sounded irritated. He came to put a few bullets in somebody not play house. 

“Yeah, he’s smoking his cigars,” His daughter looked at Erik very closely, an attitude on her face. Erik wanted to grab her little ass up and fix that face for her but this was his boss's daughter. He swallowed his pride, for now, giving her one final look before stepping into her father's office. 

Sure enough, the 1.8 million was for watching over Y/N for him while he left town for 48 hours. Bruce told him that he only trusted Erik to get the job done because he knew Erik could hold his own and do what he’s supposed to do better than his other men. Everything Bruce said was true but Erik could be earning his money in a more meaningful way. And by meaningful that means killing. But, Y/N’s safety is important and Erik wouldn’t be able to live with her death on his conscious. Bruce left that very night leaving Erik in his Miami estate alone minus the two guards who kept watch from the outside of the house. 

Erik made himself comfortable in a guest bedroom, staring angrily at his weapon bag that would not be put to use. A knock came to his room door, Erik getting up to open it. Y/N was the source of the knock. She had on a tight and short strapless body con dress colored baby blue with some rather scandalous heels on her feet and hair out in a cute curly fro. She was looking...real good. She had those titties all out, curves on display for any hungry nigga to hound her. Shit didn't make no sense how sexy Bruce's daughter was. Last time Erik had been with a woman was over three months ago

"I wanna go out." "Girl, I'm not taking your ass nowhere. Bruce said to keep you home since shit is popping off." She kissed her teeth, "So you mean to tell me, I got all dressed up for nothing?" Erik shrugs, "Ain't my problem, ma. I'm not tryna play hero and keep you safe in the middle of a shoot out. I need you as far away from that shit as possible." She was really pissed off with Erik. Her pretty round face was all scrunched up, arms folded and a pout on her lips. "I really thought you would be the chill one out of all my dad's old ass bodyguards but nope you're the same. Just as boring and annoying." She had a lot of mouth on her. Erik narrows his eyes at her, nostrils flared and lips set in a hard line. Y/N stepped off a bit, swallowing spit. "You better watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I fuck it." Y/N's jaw was on the floor. She was stunned. Y/N could not believe that Erik just said that to her. He couldn't believe it either but it was in Erik's character to say some shit like that to mouthy little bitches. He had a habit of degrading them by fucking their mouths until they gagged. Bruce's daughter may have an attitude but she wasn't used to that kind of treatment, Erik could tell. She probably got a tight as fuck pussy on her too, fuck that shit and feel like you're in some virgin pussy again.

Holy Shit. He was thinking about her pussy. These 48 hours are going to be hard.

"Is this how you talk to all the women you sleep with?" She was curious, leaning in closer to him. She had no respect for Erik's space now. "Don't worry about it. Just go back to your room, take this shit off, and relax, ma. You ain't going nowhere." "Wow," she rolls her eyes, "Remind me to never recommend you to be my new bodyguard again." "You're loss," he gave her a teasing smile. She glared at him, marching away from his door and back to her room. Erik couldn't help but stare at the bounce of her hips. She was very sexy and Bruce wasn't around to reprimand him for checking out his precious daughter.

Back in her room, making sure to slam the double doors shut and kick it for good measure, Y/N marched over to her bed like the brat she is, flopping down on the plush mattress covered in velvet bedding. Her phone was going off the hook too. Her girls were probably wondering where the fuck she was since she told them her bodyguard would be taking her out. Oh well, those plans were over. "Bitch ass, nigga," she complained to herself. Y/N was hoping to get some dick tonight too. An old college friend of hers that her father didn't really approve of but Y/N wanted a piece of was gonna be at that party. Ever since she graduated she hadn't had any dick. That was over a year ago. Her father was really strict with everything she did. Y/N appreciated it because she didn't want to end up like her brothers but at the same time, she wanted freedom. That's why she chose Killmonger. He was younger than her father's other henchmen, Wild from the talks she heard about him when she was being nosy, and he was sexy as fuck. She really thought about flashing him her titties to change his mind but he looked like a no-nonsense type so Y/N didn't try and taunt him. Although, he did taunt her.

Watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I fuck it.

Something stirred within her. The inner freak that had been locked away for so damn long. So he washed bitches mouths out with the dick? Disrespectful bitches got a dick in their mouths, huh? She liked that. She liked that a lot. He was so large compared to her. Definitely a Daddy for sure. Y/N would call Killmonger Daddy while he fucked her tight pussy. She just knew he had a big dick. None of the condoms she had would fit him. He'd have to pull out when he was about to cum.

If the condoms can't fit him, will his dick fit in me?

She couldn't help but let that thought cross her mind. Look at Y/N, thinking about fucking her dad's hitman. He was a murderer. Any other chick would be scared but Y/N... she wasn't a scaredy-cat at all. She'd be a big girl and fuck Killmonger. Killer and all. She wanted to see his guns...big guns plus a big dick would surely have Y/N on her knees or giving up the pussy.

"Fuck, I can't believe myself." She laughs, running her fingers over her heated flesh. Lord, she was horny now and ready to cum. Y/N lifts her dress up, body arched over the edge of the bed. She picks up a mirror from her side table that she used earlier to check her makeup, aiming it at her pussy from the back. She takes her other hand, pulling her panties down to see just how much of a mess she created from thinking about Killmonger. Sure enough, when she used her thumb to pull her panties to the side, a long string of nectar was connected to her panties from her phat pussy lips. She took in a sharp breath before releasing it longingly. Her pussy was so damn phat and wet right now thinking about him. "Killmonger, look what you did to me," she was so fucking horny. Y/N takes her fingers, pulling her lips apart, watching all that pink she has pop out and contrast beautifully against the brown of her outer lips. She tweaked her clit, a shiver running down her spine. Y/N starts popping her ass, watching all that slimy wet connect like her own personal glue to her pussy lips and her fingers. She'd never been this damn wet in her life. "Fuck," she moans, lifting up onto her knees to remove her dress. Fuck this shit, she needed to play with herself. Fully naked, Y/N gets off the bed, practically skipping over to her walk-in closet to retrieve her favorite pink dildo. This called for a squirt or two...maybe three. Just the thought of him being in a room down the hall probably wearing nothing right now or cleaning his guns made her shudder. She found her baby, kissing it before walking back to her bed. She grabbed her MacBook, a porn tab already up from the last video she watched. Y/N liked to watch black women masturbate, making themselves cream and squirt. She needed a video of a woman with a whole lot of ass getting drilled from behind this time around. She found her favorite, noticing the butt plug that the woman had and wishing she had one too. She likes anal.

Erik was freshly showered and dressed in a pair of black linen lounge pants that rested low on his hips. He did a lazy towel job on his body, water still dripping down the middle of his spine and on his chest. He was doing exactly what Y/N guessed; cleaning his guns. His favorite gun; a personalized Smith & Wesson. He still had a little blood around the barrel from his last job back in Germany. Unable to help himself, Erik kept thinking about Y/N and how he deprived her of going out. She was definitely grown and here he was making decisions for her like she was his daughter. He really didn't need the girl to go complaining to her father about Erik, making some shit up to mess up his money flow. Tossing his gun down, Erik looked up at himself in the mirror, his mind in a turmoil. With a risky decision, he decided to leave and go talk to the girl. Hopefully, turn the conversation around so that she could see his point of view. He left his room, walking within the dark hall of the estate to what he guessed was Y/N's room. It wasn't hard to find, her room was the only room with a glow of light coming from it. His footsteps were silent against the plush carpet as he finally stood face to face with the double doors to her bedroom suite. Erik places his fist into the open palm of his other hand, shifting on his bare feet to gather himself before knocking. Before he could, a wail came from her room. He froze, straining his ears to hear the sound again. Sure enough, the sound came back again, only this time, louder. Shit, if he was in his room, he'd probably hear it. Throwing caution to the wind, Erik grabs both handles, opening the door to see if she was okay. After all, he was ordered to protect her. The second he entered that room he wished he hadn't. Maybe he was lying to himself but the sheer embarrassment on Y/N's face made him feel guilty and ready to run from the estate altogether. Facedown, ass up, Y/N was thrusting a dildo into her pussy from the back while rubbing her clit. She was moaning and crying from how good her pussy felt before Erik disrupted her playtime. Her MacBook was opened, a compilation video of ebony women squirting and cumming all over the place. The cum loads from these women alone were massive and it stole Erik's attention for sure. He would buss a nut to the shit too. He even heard Killmonger roll off her tongue before she noticed him. Y/N's body rolled off of the bed, charging towards Erik with wide eyes before shoving his heavy body out of her room, slamming her doors shut. The sound echoed down the hall. Erik stood there, staring at those damn doors with shock. His mouth was hanging open, mind unable to unsee what he just saw. Erik heard silence now on the other side of the door, his hand coming up to knock softly. "Y/N, you decent now?" He asked. "Go awayyyyyyy Killmonger!" She sounded like she was crying. Damn, he embarrassed the hell out of her for opening those doors. "Don't you know how to fucking knock?!" "Yeah, I just thought some shit was happening to you...not...this..." "Wow," she was sniffling, "something was about to happen to me until you showed up!" She groaned loudly, probably yanking her hair too. "This is definitely not happening to me right now." Erik wanted to comfort her, reassure her that he was absolutely sorry for barging into her private moment like that. He wanted to say that to her but the slyness inside of him was happy he saw what he saw. She was a little freak. Cumming to other bitches cumming. He wanted to know what else she watched. If only she wasn't embarrassed and asked him to come and join her he would find out for himself while his dick was deep in that pussy. Speaking of pussy she had a nice phat wet puss. Her pussy creamed all over that neon pink dildo that she was thrusting in and out of that twat. He turned his back on the door, struggling if he should stay or go. Fuck, he really wanted to stay and finish what he messed up. He'd give anything to see that little pussy cum. His dick was bobbing up and down in his linen pants. Erik looked down at his crotch within the darkness, lips all poked out and eyes low while he stared at his dick twitching and knocking against the crotch of his pants. That monster wanted to be freed. He placed his face against the door, talking into the crack of the door so she could hear him clearly. "Y/N, please open up, I'm sorry, ma." He tried to sound as sincere as possible to get her to open those doors. His dick was even pressing into the door. The hard surface was the perfect amount of texture on his dick right now. "Erik lets out a soft sigh, "please?" "For what? So you can laugh at me? I don't think so. Go back to your room, asshole." "I said I didn't mean to, how many times do you want me to tell you I'm sorry?!" He was growing angry. His dick was too. He was hard as steel now. "Fuck your sorry. I am so fucking embarrassed right now." "Just open the goddamn door, shit." His begging finally worked. She flung her doors opened, body wrapped in a robe now and hair pulled up into a bun, she had her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face but she could not look into his eyes. He understands she was in a very very open position. Erik didn't like the change but she was still sexy no matter what. He hoped that she would have opened the door naked. "What the fuck is it?" "Watch your mouth talking to me," Erik fires back. "I'll talk to you however I please. My dad is paying you so that means you listen to what I say." She was looking at him now but her voice was shaky. She was so nervous and still very embarrassed. "See, your dad is paying me. Not you. And you listen to what I say, Y/N. I see you ain't leave this fucking house." "Watch I put my dress and heels on and leave right now." "I fucking dare you to try me," Erik was sizing her up now, his body bumping into hers, pushing her further into the room. He was inside again, the sweet smell of her sex around him. She must have been in here cumming back to back. Erik let his eyes linger on the bed. Sure enough, there was a large ass wet spot in the center. "Damn, you did all that?" He couldn't stop himself even if he tried. Y/N covered her face, walking away to use the velvet bedding to hide her mess. "Nah, ain't no shame in that, ma, let it show." She was growing hot again. Her pussy was begging to cum, she was right...there. And in comes this big nigga.

Damn...he actually came in my room

She wanted to rip that robe off and stuff her fingers in her pussy.

"What's wrong now, Y/N?" "You. It's your fault. Just get the fuck out." "So you can moan my name again?" She turns to him slowly, taking him in fully now since he wasn't in that dark hall anymore. His thick dick was standing straight out at her with no regard. Muscles carved into his lean body, tiny raised scars all over him symmetrical. He didn't even hide how horny he was. She was correct, her condoms would not fit around that dick. He would break them bitches before she could even get it down and around him. His big dick ass had her sucking on her bottom lip now to control herself. That inner freak was ready to pounce. "Y/N." Erik was walking up on her now, his dick pressed into her ass. "Shit," she sounds out, looking at him over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. "You tryna get me in trouble?" He spoke in a low tone. "No. You won't anyway. All surveillance is off in the house except for outside." "Hmm," Erik looked down on her ass cheeks. His dick was in between both of them. "Now why would you do that?" "Because I can." "Because you can," Erik repeated her words. "It's my fucking house." "See...I like you." She was dying to hear those words. At this point, there was no turning back. He was in her bedroom now with his dick between her cheeks. This shit was totally off-limits. "You ain't scared of me?" The touch he gave to her chin made her booty arch into his crotch further. "No. I ain't scared of men like you." "Oh, Forreal?" He was smiling down at her with this glint in his eyes. "I see men like you every day in my house. What makes you any different?" He laughs, "Because I'm not like these men that walk around your father's house. I'm Killmonger, there's a difference. You should know, you chose me, right?" He had a good point. Y/N could tell from jump that he was nothing like the other men. "Yeah, I could see that." "So then ima ask your ass again, you ain't scared of me?" She shakes her head no. "Open your fucking mouth." "NO." She let him know real quick. Erik presses his lips to her ear, "You definitely ain't going nowhere since you so brave, babygirl." What exactly was he referring to? Was he gonna fuck her so good that she would need her meals brought to her bed? "Where's that dildo?" He asked with his eyes still on her. Y/N pointed to the bed, Erik noticing it on her laptop keyboard. "Pick it up." She did, holding it around the fake silicone balls since the rest was so wet and covered in her cream. That fake dick was drenched in her essence. "Suck it off." She gave him a look to challenge his words but Erik gave her a much harder look that had her flinching and popping that dick in her mouth. He watched her suck it, her jaws all sunken in and the cream disappearing. "So that's what that mouth do?" She even licked the balls to catch the bit that spilled there. "How you fuck that pussy?" "With my legs wide open, from the back, and I rode it." "Shit, how you ride it? You did that shit on your tiptoes?" "Yeah, I stuck the suction on that chair right there." Erik looked over in the corner to find an acrylic glitter desk chair. "Bruce little girl is a freak," Erik laughs, "Bought to let her bodyguard hit." "I-you wanna fuck me?" She thought he wanted to fuck her with the dildo, the only dick her pussy really knew not his monstrous dick. "Only if you want me to." "Please." Fuck that dildo. Y/N tossed it back onto the bed, taking off her robe with the quickness. Erik raises both of his brows at that, loving how ready she is to take some dick. She stood before him, nude once again. A nice curvy body with smooth brown skin. Mouthwatering for sure. "Put on another video you like to watch, I wanna see." Y/N went to lay on her belly, ass up and bouncing for Erik to see. He removed his pants, his dick leaking with pre-cum and sticking to his leg. He watched her pull up a video of a sexy couple. The man was eating her pussy, slobbering on that shit. The loud munching sounds had Erik grunting and reaching out to smack Y/N's ass hard. She looked back at him, making her ass shake so he can do it again. Erik gave her what she wanted with his large calloused hands. He was definitely an experienced man for sure. "Get on your back, I'm eating that pussy." She flips over, opening her legs to show Erik all the creamy goodness that spilled from her. She was a goddamn mess down there. He got down between her legs, angling the laptop so he could watch it with her while he ate her pussy. As soon as the man in the video started sucking on his girl's clit, Erik did the same to Y/N. She was so overwhelmed by it that her thighs kept trying to close. Erik took her calves, thrusting them forward so that her toes touched the bed and her pussy and ass were open for him. He went to work on her little ass, his eyes looking from her to that screen. Whenever the guy in the video sucked, Erik sucked. Whenever he French kisses her all over the inside, Erik did too. She was so sloppy on his mouth. Erik was so happy to be eating pussy again that he didn't say a damn word. The only sounds he made were munching, smacking of lips, tongue flicking, and popping of his mouth off her clit and inner folds. Y/N was having a fit. She was trying to watch the action on the laptop but Erik kept pulling her away. He was devouring her slit. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore he had his fingers thrusting inside of her pussy while sucking on her clit. Three of those fingers. Her eyes rolled, head bobbing back and forth. She had no feeling in her legs left from how big she came on Erik's fingers and tongue. She trembled and trembled. But yet he was still going. "That's enough, Killmonger," she let out a sharp moan. "Stop!!" Before she could push his head away she was squirting. She covered his chest and the bed with all her mess. He pulled his fingers out before sucking on them with his long slippery tongue. Now, he was on his feet, kneeling on the bed. He had one hand around his dick while the other rested over his nuts. "Pull up a dick sucking video." "You do it." She tells him while still trying to recover from the atomic bomb head she just received. Erik leans over her, the smell of the soap he used on his skin surrounding her and causing her to kiss his neck. He didn't complain about that so she continued. Erik pulled up a favorite of his. One where the girl was talking into the camera, begging the nigga to cum on her face. This always had Erik busting a huge nut. "Bring your mouthy ass over here and suck my dick." He ordered. Y/N timidly grabs his dick, jerking it slowly to get a feel of the weight on him. This shit must drag when he walked. "I know it's a lot but you can take it." She kissed the tip of his dick before looking up at him to see if he liked it. "Keep going, I ain't tell you to stop." She wrapped her lips around the tip of his dick now. She sucked softly, little moans coming from her mouth at the same time. "You should see how that little mouth looking right now. You can't even fit me in there." She tried to challenge his words, lowering herself further down his dick. She could only make it to half the dick. Even that was too much for her. "It's okay...relax, ma. Take your time with it." She did her thing, tight pouty lips gliding over him all delicate. He was enjoying the soft way she sucked his pipe. Her spit bubbles around him dripping to her chest caused Erik to grab her curly bun. He started thrusting his hips, Y/N looking up at him with fearful eyes. "Relax, I got you, sweetie," she reached out to stop his hips from moving forward, "I promise I won't go too rough, I promise." She still held her hands on his hips but her mouth relaxed around Erik, allowing him to fuck her mouth at a pace she could tolerate. The sound of her spit building on her tongue and Erik's dick hitting her throat was music. She squeezed her eyes because he got a little too happy, her throat tightening around him. "FUCK, I ain't mean to I swear," He spoke in a hushed tone. He was so damn close to cumming in this girl's mouth. Her tight mouth. "Damn, your lips so tight." His eyes fluttered. She felt like the side of her lips would split in half from how thick he was becoming. She tried to open up wider but there was no use. Y/N breathed through her nose, allowing Erik to finish off. He was a challenge for her. "Shit-shit-take it, take all this dick!" The minute his cum hit her throat she gagged, Erik holding her in place so he could finish out within her mouth. He pulled out, his dick bouncing in her face and the last bits of his cum shooting onto her cheek. She looked so shocked at his action. Her fingers went up to scoop it up and into her mouth. "You are such a big girl. Did so well for Daddy." "You cum a lot, Killmonger." "You like that, don't you?" "Yes." Erik bit his lip, "get on your back, ima fuck the shit outta you." Y/N got onto her back but she didn't want it like that. She wanted him to fuck her from the back. She wanted to see how it felt taking his generous dick with her ass in the air. "What's wrong now Y/N," Erik spoke with annoyance. "I want you to fuck me from the back." "...see, I don't know if you can take it like that yet, ma. You'll feel me in your stomach if I do that." "So," Y/N turned around, arching her back, reaching behind her to pull her pussy lips apart. "Is it still too much?" She teased. This was how she imagined Erik would fuck her when he walked in. He might as well take her pussy like this. "Shit ain't too much for me, this dick gonna be too much for you. But since you such a hard-headed bitch Ima give you what you want." Erik fixes her arch. She thought she was positioned the right way. Nope, Erik needs her face and shoulders pressed into the bed with her ass angled all the way up to where Erik could have a deeper thrust. She looked back at him, nibbling on her fingers to calm herself. "You looking real nervous for a chick who ain't afraid." Erik beat his dick on her clit. "I'm not afraid." She spoke softly. Erik didn't have anything more to say to her. He grabs his dick, bringing it to her velvety hole and sinking it right in. He didn't give Y/N time to think. He was all the way inside of her. Erik got in her pussy in one clean motion. She had her eyes closed briefly before opening them to show Erik how watery they were. She thugged it out and Erik was impressed, for now. He was frozen, his dick still buried. "Y/N." "I'm good," she was ready. "Bet." Erik pulled out to the tip of his dick, his eyes watching the muscles in her back flex. She was spread wide for him. He thrust back in swiftly, his balls hitting her clit. That sensation had Y/N whispering something into the crease of her arm. Probably saying how good and thick his dick is. "Faster," she begged. Erik built up speed, her ass making that sound he loved whenever he fucked bitches from the back. She was clapping all over him. Y/N felt it in her belly. It was something she couldn't really feel with her dildo. "OhmyGod!" She screams. Her hands reached out in front of her to grab hold of the cum stained sheets, balling it up with her fists. Erik was beating the breaks off her pussy at this point. He would grunt and moan real low but Y/N could hear it. "Killmonger, you're stretching me!" He slowed down, before picking up the pace some more. The shit was amazing. She was wrapped around his dick perfectly. "You gonna make me bust early in this pussy, girl! look at this pussy, loving all this dick I'm giving her!" She likes that he referred to her pussy as "her" it made her attempt to throw it back on him but her hips were so weak. "OhmiiGod you're so big!" She cried. Erik gave Y/N a thunderous slap to her ass before grabbing her shoulders to pound into her some more. Her head fell forward, moans and groans stuck in her throat. "I got you arched over this dick, girl," she tried to move but Erik was right there with her, "Stop it, ma. You were doing so well. Daddy was proud of you for taking this dick." "It's just so deep." "I told you, didn't I? It's too late now I like fucking you like this." She was in his control. Y/N's pussy leaked so much on his dick she couldn't keep count. It was so sensitive to his long and fat dick. It's because he's so big and she's so tight. "Fuck, you're tearing my pussy up!" Erik pulls out, Y/N's juices following right behind him and onto the bed. She flips over, bringing her legs up for Erik to grab. "You don't waste no time," He says in a teasing manner. Erik takes her calves again, stretching them all the way back so her toes could touch the bed. "Such a nasty girl with this pussy spread open for me." His dick was inside of her again. She watched with pure bliss to the point of tears. He was doing push-ups in her pussy. Erik moves his hips in a circular motion creating a new sensation inside of her that had Y/N's toes curling. "Wet pussy, I fucking love it." "Yes!" She had her hands on Erik's hips, pulling him further inside of her like he wasn't already deep. "Shit," He looked down at her, "grab my nuts, squeeze them." She did, squeezing and massaging them. Erik was no more good. "Now you're squeezing my dick and nuts. Getting all of me tonight, huh?" "Fuck yeah." "You gonna let me cum all over this pussy?" "Yes, Daddy." "You gonna let me cum all over this good pussy?" "Yes, Daddy." "You fucking better!-shit, mmhmm Ima give you what you want, fuck, girl you got me cumming!" Erik shot thick ropes of cum onto Y/N's phat pussy lips. Y/N reached between them to stroke him, more cum shooting out and onto her belly. The feeling was too much. This girl was covered in his cum. Pussy looking like a cream pie. Y/N rubbed it between her folds before taking her fingers to suck on. "Can you stay the night with me?" She asked between sucking. Erik gave her a sly smile before shaking his head, "I don't think so, ma. I already fucked up coming in here. Thank God you disabled the surveillance in the house. I ain't tryna die because I fucked my boss's daughter." "Please?" "Only until you fall asleep." "Fine." Erik puts his pants on, watching Y/N get up from the bed to change her sheets. "Ima go check my phone to see if your dad tried to get in contact with me." "Okay," Y/N watched Erik leave the room and down the dark hall. She wanted to squeal, jump for joy, dance, anything to express her excitement. That was the most memorable sex she's ever had. It's sad that it had to be because of this sticky situation but she didn't regret it all. Now she didn't want her father to return home for a while. If she could get some dick from Killmonger she'd be more than happy. Fuck spending time with her friends, there was an entire estate for her and Erik to have fun in. She placed her sheets in a hamper before returning with fresh ones. Erik was back in her room now, closing the door. "I had a talk with your Father." Y/N's heart sank, Erik laughing at her expression. "You gotta learn to relax, Y/N. All he said was that his trip is gonna have to be extended another six days." "Six days?!" She closed her eyes, Erik laughing at her excitement. "Yeah, some shit about business running slower than usual. Plus, he had to off a few lousy men so he might come home short two henchmen." "So, what does that mean for you?" "That means I'm 2 million dollars richer." "You're still gonna watch over me?" Erik couldn't help but give Y/N his lady killer smile. She blushes, turning to put on her robe. "Yeah, you don't plan on telling Bruce that you don't like me as a bodyguard, right?" "I only said that because you didn't let me go out!" Y/N argued back. "But now you want me around," Erik licks his lips, "I gave you some dick now you want me to stay." He didn't have to put it like that but it was halfway true. Y/N wasn't going to say anything to Bruce about Killmonger. "Killmonger, you have good dick, okay? Now, stay the night with me, please?" She gave him her best pout and innocent eyes. "You are really gonna get me in trouble."

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra@theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites  @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell@luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney  @brandithecrystalgem@dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa@sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @bugngiz @palmstreesallday@skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo​ 

[thatshankcallednewt]

TMR Time Loop/Groundhog Day Soulmate AU: Newt - Prettier Than Last Time: Part Three (Final)

You could hardly sleep. When you woke up, you practically bolted out of your bedroom and showered infinitely quicker than usual. You were nervous, to say the least. Way more nervous than yesterday. You were so distracted, you almost fell over in the shower, your feet sliding over the slippery tiles.

You did things as usual, got dressed and brewed a cup of coffee. But time seemed to go slower than usual. You were taking quick, distracted mouthfuls of it once it was done and, in your cup, when you heard your mom drop her tub of moisturizer down the stairs again. It thumped three times and rolled once it had reached the wooden floorboards, and she gasped and almost cursed, as usual, until she called out, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m awake!” you called back, knowing that was what she wanted to know. You were already almost finished with your cup of coffee.

“That all you’re having?” she repeated, coming into the kitchen, fully dressed. And like last time, she headed towards the refrigerator. “You know—”

“I know, food in the fridge. Just not hungry,” you said, as you double-checked that it was Tuesday by looking at the date on your lock screen. Tuesday it was.

She stopped in front of the fridge, hand at the ready. Then she turned away from it to grab the banana. “You can’t think without fuel—”

“I know,” you interrupted, putting your phone down, “I can’t get fuel from coffee, but that banana won’t get eaten, and you know it.”

Your mom stopped reaching for the banana as you said this and dropped her arm by her side. She squinted at you. “You’re acting really… strange.”

“Well,” you started, finishing the last mouthful of your drink, “You could argue that this is the most important day of my life.”

She frowned. She crossed her arms over her chest, her pointed stare trying to figure you out. “What, you’ve got that test today or something? It’s just a math test—”

“It’s tomorrow, and I’m not worried about that one bit,” you smiled, reaching for your bag. You’d be a bit early to the bus stop, but there was no point in hanging around listening to the same conversation a third time. “I better get going.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” she stuttered, watching you as you headed for the front door, “have a good day!”

You smiled.

                                                         ***

You’d spent your extra time this morning looking for him. But you couldn’t see him. You found Minho and Thomas, but the blond headed boy just wasn’t around. You searched hallways and lockers you hardly ever passed, assuming you’d never met because of differing schedules and locker locations. But that wasn’t the case.

Or at least, you were starting to think it wasn’t, because you couldn’t even find him in any of the school yearbooks in the library. Did he exist at all?

By the time you got to the cafeteria, deciding that spending your break in the library pawing over more yearbooks would be pointless, you were a nervous wreck. You’d see him at the field today for sure, but you at least wanted to know his name first. You couldn’t even find that.

“So,” Brenda said, tucking her short hair behind her ear, “You’re still gonna be at the track meet today after school, right?” She was eating fries again.

Teresa sat down beside her, sandwich in hand. “Of course, she’s going, we all are.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, too nervous to eat. “I’ll be there.”

“It’s going to be great!” Brenda said excitedly, just like the first Tuesday, and Teresa harassed her for only wanting to go to see Minho in action, to which kicked off their usual argument.

You glanced at the doors just in case, you didn’t remember seeing him in the cafeteria both times but maybe you missed him. You spotted Minho and Thomas though, eating at a table not too far away. Brenda would sneak occasional glances at Minho, something you didn’t notice any of the other times.

Most days, Teresa would go sit with Thomas. Or Thomas would come over here. And Brenda would get all flustered because if Thomas came over here then Minho would follow. You blinked, almost frowning, as you realized that never any of those times did you notice a blond British boy in tow.

“Y/N? Hello?” Brenda suddenly said, which broke you from your thoughts. You turned to look at her.

“Yeah?”

Brenda laughed, glancing at Teresa, “Looking for someone?”

“Maybe,” you said quietly.

Teresa frowned.

“Well, okay,” Brenda said, humorously, “Anyway, as I was just saying… maybe we can find you a cute guy at the track meet today?”

“Sure,” you muttered, not really thinking. You were starting to feel anxious. When you saw him, face-to-face, would you really go up to him? You were starting to feel so scared of meeting him properly that your hands shook, and your palms were sweaty.

“Really?” Brenda practically gasped, looking to Teresa who stared at you with suspicious eyes. She knew something was up. Brenda, however, was excited to finally get you a boy, though of course you wouldn’t actually let her. “Rachel always knows who’s single, so I could ask her for you. Unless…”

You looked up at her at her sudden change int tone of voice, “Unless?”

“Unless you have someone in mind already?”

You stared at her a moment. “I don’t know yet.”

Teresa watched you carefully in silence, her blue eyes analytical.

But Brenda didn’t seem to care either way and went on about how she’d check in with Rachel and that you could make up your mind later.

“What happened to only caring about school and work and…” Teresa trailed off, checking the time on her phone. She’d have to leave for the lab soon.

You shrugged.

She shook her head, “You’re acting weird,” she concluded, and scooted her chair backwards so she could stand up. “I’ve got to head to the lab early, experiments and stuff.” She slipped her bag on, shoving her phone inside, “I’ll see you at the meet!” She turned towards the double-doors.

You stood up too, about to say goodbye to Brenda, when Teresa turned around and called out, “And Y/N?”

You looked over your shoulder at her, confused at this new interaction, “Yeah?”

She smiled, “Go get him.” She didn’t give you time to react, and you watched her in shock as she left the cafeteria.

“Am I missing something?” Brenda questioned, interrupting your disbelief.

You shook your head, “I’ve got no idea,” you packed your food back into your bag and slung the straps over your shoulders. You said goodbye and smiled to yourself as you headed for the exit, shaking your head. Of course, she’d know. Teresa was already smart. But she’d been through it before, the whole soulmate ordeal. You didn’t feel too guilty about not letting Brenda know yet, you’d tell her all about it once this day was over.

You were lost in thought as you opened the double doors, and immediately bumped into someone as they were coming in. You stopped, always forgetting this moment before it was too late. “Sorry,” you said, as reflex, and looked up into the eyes of the brown eyed, blond boy who was supposedly your soulmate.

Your eyes widened and you choked back a small gasp.

He shook his head, tucking a blond curl behind his ear, “Don’t be, I wasn’t really paying attention to where…” he tilted his head, blinking, “to where I was going,” he finished, quietly. He was wearing the same denim, wool-lined jacket, and black jeans. His accent and his eyes on you made your cheeks flush; he really was cute.

Your mouth was dry. You tried swallowing but it was no use. This was the moment. The moment, you repeated to yourself, but what were you supposed to say again? You panicked, and laughed, “Neither was I.”

He smiled and it melted your heart. But what if he wasn’t the one?

You opened your mouth and stopped yourself, squeezing the strap on your shoulder, you frowned. That’s it! The sunset—

“The sunset,” you blurted out all of a sudden, nervous and cheeks heated. He looked at you, curiously. And for some reason, some stupid reason, you continued, “It’s –uh,” you paused, swallowing, watching his eyes grow confused, “it’s even prettier than last time…?”

After you’d said it, you wanted to curl up and cry.

He looked at you a moment, his brown eyes studying yours. “Sorry, love?”

“Nothing!” you almost yelled and dodged past him before he could say anything else, or before you could say anything else. You were so embarrassed; you couldn’t think straight. You passed your class without even realizing and somehow made it into one of the open courtyards. You forced yourself to stop walking, which led to pacing nervously instead. You could have facepalmed, you felt so stupid. The moment repeated over and over in your head.

“Y/N?”

You looked up as you heard the voice call out your name and met eyes with Teresa’s. You sighed shakily but couldn’t help the few tears that sprung to your eyes. “Teresa,” was all you could manage.

“You okay?” she asked, walking over to you. She was still wearing her lab coat and her science goggles hung around her neck. She frowned and touched your shoulder, “What happened?”

“I made a mistake,” you said, shaking your head. “I thought…”

She watched you carefully, “You thought you knew who… he was?”

You nodded. You sat down on one of the outdoor tables. You probably looked so embarrassed and pathetic, but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t know how to deal with all of this. You didn’t want to mess it up, yet here you were, making a complete mess of it anyway.

“I thought I knew him and… I guess I was wrong.”

“Did you ask him?” she said, sitting down beside you.

You couldn’t look her in the eyes, instead, you stared at your hands which sat in your lap. “No, I didn’t. I said something I thought he’d get, you know, from one of the other days but…” you sighed, huffing with frustration. “I thought he was the one! Teresa,” you almost choked, “I… wanted it to be him…”

Teresa shook her head, sighing. She didn’t seem worried or concerned in the slightest, in fact, it seemed she had a small smile curling at her lips, “For God’s sake, Y/N.”

You stared hard at her, wiping the few speckles of tears from the corners of your eyes, “What?”

“If you want it to be him then it probably is him!” she answered, exasperated. You stared at her, confused. She rolled her eyes, “Look, when I was at the dance trying to find my stupid soulmate,” she sighed, “I tried being subtle. But boys are stupid, Y/N!”

You laughed, shaking your head, “So, what did you do?”

She thought a moment, her voice quieter than before, “I wanted it to be Thomas. After a while, I started noticing more and more things about him. Things that made sense, things that I liked. But we never spoke. Except for the one time, when he would hold the door open for me and I would say thanks.”

“I tried hinting at it,” she continued, fiddling with her pen, “but it was no use. He was thick,” she rolled her eyes, “or just nervous, like me. I got fed up with it all and didn’t wanna live another day of it, so when I got to the dance, I outright asked him.”

Your eyes widened, “You did?”

“Yeah,” she said. “When I got there, and he held the door open for me. I asked if he was my soulmate. He looked at me like I was crazy, and I almost regretted it but then he nodded.” She smiled at the memory, and you thought it cute. “I asked him if he thought it was me and he said, ‘Why do you think I kept holding the door open for you?’, stupid.”

You laughed, shaking your head. It was such a Thomas thing to do. “So, what… you’re saying I should just ask him?”

Teresa nodded, smiling. “You’ll never know until you know. Then this whole mess will be over, and you can finally make it to Wednesday. Besides, if it isn’t him, he won’t remember after today resets.”

She was right. You suddenly felt confident and you nodded, “Alright.” You stood up from the table, “I think I will. I’ll find him at the race today, that’s where I know he’ll be next.” You hugged Teresa, “Thanks, T.”

“No worries,” she replied, standing up too. She smoothed out her coat, “Did you ever tell us?”

“No,” you answered, honestly.

“How come?”

You shook your head, sighing, “Guess I thought it might mess it up or something… but it seems like I’ve done a pretty good job of that all on my own.”

She smiled, soft, a little amused. You were glad to have her as a friend, she was always logical and calm, which was helpful in your chaotic little mind. She nodded towards her class, “Better get back to it, the bell will go soon.”

You waved her goodbye and headed for class, too. The nerves were still there but now they pushed more for excitement rather than horror and fear. This would be it, the final time you’d relive this day. You were never more excited to reach Wednesday in your whole life.

                                                            ***

You practically ran for the field as soon as class let out. You didn’t bother much with the stuff in your locker and bag, you didn’t seem to care at all about the test tomorrow. Everything that always was priority suddenly felt unimportant.

There were still a lot of people around by the time you got there, of course, just like the other times. You knew where your friends would be, by the railing, waiting for Minho’s race to start. But of course, they could wait.

The whistles and shouting seemed to drown out as you concentrated. But you couldn’t spot the blond guy anywhere. You scanned the crowds from far away, but groups were spread out all over the field, both competitors and spectators alike. It was hard to keep track. You remembered he was wearing a denim jacket and black jeans; you thought it would help distinguish him from the crowd, but it was almost no use.

You started walking towards your friends after some time went by. But then you realized that he might be heading over to the kiosk again; when you bumped into him that time and first noticed his accent and blond hair. You stopped in your tracks, turning your head immediately in the direction of the snack bar. You couldn’t see much of a line, but you began walking over there anyway. Your pace quickened as you felt butterflies in your stomach. You were practically running, weaving around and through groups of students, but slowed to a stop when you reached the small shed-like compartment. Staff and volunteer students were bustling about, people were just beginning to line up for fresh, hot donuts. You couldn’t see him waiting around, so maybe you were early.

You turned from the line quickly, to look out in the direction of where you remembered he had come from the first time and smacked right into someone. “I’m sorry!” you said quickly, without really looking at who. You were about to walk off when he spoke.

“You!” he said, out of breath. He was shaking his head, “You know how long I’ve been runnin’ around here looking for you?”

You stopped, turned, and met eyes with the brown-eyed, blond stranger. You blinked. “L-Looking for me?”

“What you said earlier,” he breathed, straightening as he gulped down air. He eyed you, a small smile curled his lips, “I’m such an idiot.”

You stared at him, as if you were in shock.

He blinked, suddenly nervous, “You know, the sunset, the—”

“I know,” you breathed, nodding your head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it when you said it, I just—”

“Didn’t expect me?” you asked.

He blinked. Running a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes dropped to his shoes, “Nah, not like that. I—” he looked up at you again, “I was surprised you’d said it. I guess… I guess I didn’t expect it to be you, but not because I don’t know who you are.”

You frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Y/N, right?” he asked. His voice was soft and still a little nervous.

“Yeah…”

He smiled, his eyes were kind, “I like it, for the record.” He glanced at the race as the starter pistol echoed and it began, but quickly looked back at you, “I promise I’m not a creepy stalker or anything, I’ve just been doing the same thing almost three times now and I noticed your name badge yesterday.”

“My…?” you were surprised to say the least. You thought back to each work shift but couldn’t place his face in any of those memories, except until after you’d finished and already had your uniform folded up and put in your bag. “You were at Joe’s Diner?”

He laughed a little, and you liked the way his eyes smiled. He suddenly feigned hurt by placing a hand over his heart as if it had been damaged by your words, “You didn’t notice me?”

“I—” you sighed, “I was just real busy…”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I noticed. You were running about, all frazzled.”

“I hope not too frazzled,” you said, embarrassed.

“The cute kind,” he smiled. “My name is Newt, by the way,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake.

You blushed and shook his hand, “It’s good to meet you, finally. I saw you out the front of Joe’s… and I remembered you from bumping into you at the snack bar the first time.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, we’re quite the clumsy pair of soulmates, love. I would’ve stayed, too, to help you with the food you dropped but the bloody race started… Minho would’ve cracked a fit if I missed it. Guess he still will, since today won’t reset again,” he said, in realization.

“We can pretend you watched the whole thing, with me as your witness,” you offered, smiling up at him.

“Cheers, that’d bloody save my ass.” He shook his head as you walked with him, closer to the track. “I can’t believe we missed each other that many times, despite bumping into one another… I looked for you yesterday at the snack bar but couldn’t see you.”

“You looked for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, nervously tucking a curl behind his ear, he shrugged, “I –uh, like I said, I knew who you were. Wanted to see you again.”

You swallowed. You weren’t so anxious anymore, but the nerves were still there. You were talking to your soulmate. And he was into you. You felt stupid for thinking he’d never have any kind of interest. “I thought I would try being in different spots instead of repeating the first day exactly but… obviously, that was dumb.”

“Nah, not dumb, just thinking outside of the box,” he suggested, and you both stopped in front of the railing. You leaned against the metal and squinted as Minho finished the race, winning first place. “You didn’t ever think it would be me?” he asked, bravely.

You looked at him, still leaning on the railing. You felt your cheeks pinken. “I… uh… I wanted it to be you,” you laughed, “I was so nervous, when I blurted out what I said this morning… I panicked.”

He looked amused, his brown eyes squinting with his smile. “You wanted it to be me, huh?” he challenged, and he nudged you in the arm, “thought you didn’t notice me.”

“I did,” you argued, “I thought you were cute. I think you’re cute.” You felt embarrassed for saying it but not so badly, because the way his eyes lit up and his smile grew warmed your heart. “How have we not come across each other? I looked for you in the yearbooks, in the library, and I couldn’t find you.”

His eyebrows raised, “You did? Look who’s the stalker now.”

“Oh, shut up,” you joked, and he laughed.

“It’s probably because… I don’t go to this school.”

Your eyes widened, “You don’t? But I bumped into you at the cafeteria…”

“Yeah,” he said, “I was surprising Minho and Tommy.” He scratched his head, “Technically, you’re fraternizing with the enemy.”

Eyebrows raised, you looked at him, “Enemy?” you laughed.

“You know the school that always comes second to Minho?”

You nodded, thinking back to what Brenda said. “Ah, your school has quite the reputation around here.”

“Not surprised,” Newt said, shaking his head.

“You mustn’t be much of an enemy if you’re friends with Thomas and Minho, though.”

“That’s true,” he nodded, his hand resting on the metal railing. He looked at you for a moment. “You can trust me.”

“You can trust me, too,” you said, somewhat quietly. You felt like you could trust him, the moment you saw him. He had kind eyes and a soft smile. He wasn’t overly boisterous or loud. The attraction you felt toward him when you first saw him hadn’t not meant nothing, it had meant everything.

“So…” he started, leaning back from the railing, shoving his hands into his denim pockets. “I guess I can’t see you after this. I mean, not unless I go to Joe’s.”

You sighed, “Guess not…” you frowned, thinking a moment, “But we could always watch the sunset together afterwards? I heard it’s supposed to be pretty,” you joked.

He smiled again at this, “It sure is.”

                                                          ***

You definitely noticed him this time. They sat at a booth at the opposite end of the diner to where your tables were, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise that you hadn’t noticed him those times before. This time, however, you couldn’t stop noticing him. And the fact that Teresa and Brenda were both there, too.

You finally told them all about it. Brenda, of course, was the most shocked since she’d been kept in the dark. Teresa wasn’t surprised the least bit when you told her that it had worked out, and that he was your soulmate, though she wasn’t expecting it to be Newt, her soulmate’s close friend.

That, and Brenda wanting to meet this “Newt guy” as she had put it, led to the group hang out at the diner, which was only mildly unfortunate for you since you had to miss out. But you were glad that everything was fixed. You’d met your soulmate. Wednesday would finally come around. You would smash that math test. Brenda got to finally go out with Minho, and you had a sunset to look forward to.

You folded up your uniform and got changed quicker than usual. Everything was packed and you were excited to get going, you almost forgot to clock off and say goodbye to the others. You walked over to their booth at the end, and you were greeted with smiles.

“Y/N,” Newt breathed, “Save me from these crazy people.”

You laughed at his desperation, and he loved it. He could listen to your laugh all day. He jumped up from the booth and nodded to his friends, and you both said goodbye to everyone before exiting the diner. The air outside was crisp and fresh, and the sunset was only just beginning.

Newt said he knew of a park nearby that would have a perfect view of the sky, since it was situated over a kind of valley. He led the way, insisting it was only a short walk. You weren’t so sure about that, but you’d made it to the park in time for the explosion of warm colors in the sky, and a hot chocolate each from the ice cream place nearby.

The grass was golden, and the sky was illuminated with pinks and oranges. You were surprised every single time, despite having seen it before. You both sat on top of a picnic table, heads turned to the view. You could see the city below, in the distance. And the golden glow of dusk. The suburbs behind you and trees to enclose you in this safe, secret spot.

“It really is prettier than last time,” you breathed.

“Agreed, but maybe that’s because I have such pretty company.”

You rolled your eyes jokingly at him and he laughed at your response, “Cheesy.”

“Good kind of cheesy though, right?”

“Maybe,” you smiled.

You both sipped at your warm drinks in silence, taking in the wonderful array of colors, and just enjoying each other’s company. After a bit, he spoke, “Nice trick with the hot sauce.”

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing, “What do you mean?”

“You know,” he sipped at his drink, “You caught it again.” He looked at you and you were waiting for an explanation. “You dropped it the first time. Smashed to a million pieces, had to clean it up, remember?”

Your cheeks pinkened, “You saw that? Jeez…”

“How could I not?” he teased, “But hey, it’s what made me notice you. Then I realized you were the girl I bumped into two times that day.”

You shook your head, “Right, the cafeteria… the field… wait a minute—” you looked at him again, his brown eyes reflected the warmth from the sky, “You knew I caught it the second Tuesday and today?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, as if it didn’t mean anything. Then his eyes widened. “Oh for—”

“Newt!” you said, nudging his arm, and he almost spilled his drink on himself. You both laughed at how clumsy and thick you both were. “I can’t believe you saw me catch the sauce; didn’t you think something was up? I mean, things were a little different depending on how different your choices were, but stuff like that—”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, shaking his head. His hair fell around his face, making his curls super fluffy and cute. You were in awe. His cheeks were a little pink when he caught you staring at him.

“It’s okay,” you said, “We got here in the end, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. He was looking at you still, you could feel it, even though you’d turned to watch the sky again. “Y/N?”

He glanced at your hand, the one that rested on top of the table which you both sat on. He held out his hand to you, “This okay?”

You offered your hand to him and he took it, and you leaned in closer to him resting on his shoulder. Your hands clasped together, sat on your leg, fingers intertwined. He liked that you felt safe with him, as he did with you, and you both knew that even though you still had to a lot to get to know about each other, this connection was by far the strongest thing you ever felt.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” he breathed.

“Me too.”

[artificialqueens]

Sweet On My Lips (Crygi) - Mumu

A/N: This is my first fic! I usually write poetry, so this is quite a change. Hope you enjoy :) You can also read it on AO3!

Summary: Gigi’s a barista and Crystal stumbles into her cafe. Softness ensues.

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when Crystal Methyd stumbles into the cafe with a book bag under her arm. She needs a sugar high. Immediately.

She wanted to go to a Starbucks, but a few wrong turns on the way back from the new tattoo studio she was an apprentice at, and she was suddenly twenty minutes away from the nearest one. She ended up having to settle for a local cafe to satisfy her sweet tooth. How is that even possible? Starbucks is supposed to have a store on every street. That’s, like, the law.

Add that to the fact that LA summers felt like Satan himself was preemptively boiling everybody alive to lessen his workload once they made it down to hell, and you got one very pissed off Crystal.

“Hi! Can I get, uh, a-” Crystal starts, approaching the counter. She squints at the menu, trying to decide from the creative names which drink has the most cream and sugar. Her mouth tastes filmy and gross from dehydration, not at all helping her concentrate on scanning the drink names.

Tiramisu mocha? White chocolate raspberry frappe? Maybe the frappes are sweeter, given that they’re usually topped with whipped cream and all. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking. It’s too hot out to order a hot chocolate. Maybe she could ask to get it iced, though? Is that a thing?

She honestly should have just walked the twenty minutes to Starbucks; at least she knows for sure that they’re okay with modifications.

She realizes she’s been quiet for a few seconds too long when the barista speaks.

“Take your time! There’s not much business this time of day anyways.”

“Thanks,” Crystal drags her gaze away from the menu and up to glance at said barista. Her breath catches as soon as she does. The first thing she notices is curly red hair, pulled into a shiny ponytail. It looks soft, and she wants to touch it.

Crystal’s pretty sure this barista is the first redhead she’s met (apart from that one time she decided to dye her hair red in eighth grade, of course, but she doubts that counts.)

She’d only done it to piss off her English teacher after he’d gone on a rant and said that unnatural hair colors were an abomination of god or whatever. It didn’t come out to be a pretty shade like this girl’s. More… Clifford the big red dog. But ultimately, three months of picking out clothes to match her hair and drenching her damaged split ends in coconut oil were worth it, if only to see Mr. Rhodes splutter every time she came into his classroom.

A thump from the cafe dishwasher brings her back to the moment, and she startles slightly.

“D’you want some help choosing?” The barista asks helpfully.

She doesn’t trust herself to speak without stammering out something embarrassing, so Crystal just nods instead.

“Great!” The redhead says, smiling. Her nose scrunches as she does so, and Crystal notices the coral-colored blush placed there for the first time. It gives the girl a sunburnt look. It’s cute. She’s cute.

“I love guessing people’s coffee orders. It’s like, coffee shop tarot reading or whatever,” The girl says.

“Aren’t tarot readings for the future though?” Crystal gets out, finding her voice again. Her eyes drop to the barista’s name tag- Gigi. It’s nice to put a name to the pretty face. “So this would be more like a BuzzFeed personality quiz or something.”

“Whatever, I don’t know.” Gigi waves the question away, shrugging. Her smile is warm, and it makes Crystal feel kind of melty inside. “You’re probably right.”

“Do you do it often?” Crystal ventures.

Gigi gets a bit flustered, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. Crystal wishes she could be the one playing with Gigi’s hair. Is that creepy? Definitely creepy.

Gigi considers how to word her answer. Okay, don’t tell her you analyze everyone that comes in here like some sort of serial killer.

“Mostly just in my head? It keeps me entertained.” Or do. Great.

“Cool! Do you want me to answer questions or something? I can do that.” Crystal offers.

“No, that’s cheating. Just, like, stand there for a sec, yeah?”

Crystal obeys, feeling a bit silly. Gigi narrows her eyes, studying her.

“You’re wearing bright colors and mixing prints… that tells me you’re fun and like, a child at heart and stuff.” And you’re really pretty, Gigi wants to add. Really, really pretty, because nobody else I’ve ever met could get away with mixing prints. Not even Nicky, and that girl is a runway model.

“Uh, thanks, I think!” Crystal shuffles a bit. She hopes that being “a child at heart” a good thing in Gigi’s book. She wants Gigi to like her. The realization almost makes her snort in irony. Of course. I’m head over heels for a pretty girl I just met five minutes ago who’s probably not even gay. How very cliche lesbian of me.

Crystal makes a mental note to never, ever tell her group chat about this. (Meaning, the group chat is the first place she’ll go to talk about this after she leaves in around five minutes.) Jaida will probably never let her live it down. On the bright side, it would probably give her a break from constantly having to relive the Mailbox Incident of Summer 2017. She nearly shudders just thinking about it.

“Oh! And cute earrings! Where’d you get those?” Gigi asked, bringing Crystal out of her thoughts.

“Thank you, I made them!” Crystal says, and only allows herself to grin like an idiot for five seconds.

“No way, that’s incredible,” Gigi marvels. “Do you sell them or anything?”

“Yeah, mostly just to friends, though. Once a month I go to an art fair and that’s when I sell the most stuff.” Crystal says. She hesitates for a moment, before throwing in a, “but then again, lesbians will buy anything if you stick a needle on and call them earrings, so.”

“That’s cool,” Gigi says. “And amen to that. I just bought a pair of bottle cap earrings? I have no idea when I’m ever going to wear them.”

“Thanks! Those sound cute, I bet you’d look pretty in them.” Crystal feels like a broken record at this point, just repeating the same few phrases. The praise has her feeling a bit shy, and she can’t help but get a little self-conscious. She fiddles with the hem of her denim jacket to keep herself busy.

Gigi doesn’t seem to notice, still very much focused on analyzing her appearance. “Freckles, cute! Are they natural?”

“Oh, uh, yeah!” Crystal brings a hand up to tap her nose. “I used to hate them.”

“What, no, they’re adorable! I’ve always wanted them. I would, like, dot them on with mascara in third grade.”

Crystal giggles. “That’s so cute.”

She flounders for a second, trying to come up with something to say as Gigi goes back to staring at her. “Uh, I like your hair! I dyed my hair red in eighth grade, but it didn’t look natural or anything.”

“Aw, thank you. Yeah, red hair is really hard to get right apparently.” Gigi nibbles on her bottom lip, thinking. “Okay, I think I’ve got it!”

“What’s the verdict?” Crystal asks excitedly, all previous discomfort forgotten.

The redhead pauses, steepling her hands and drumming her fingertips together. She lets the silence sit for a few seconds to build anticipation, though this time it’s decidedly less awkward, both girls having warmed up to each other.

There’s a pause before she announces her decision. “I think… you seem like a diabetes in a cup kinda girl.”

Wow. Okay, how the hell did Gigi do that? Is Crystal that easy to read or something?

Actually, yeah, it makes sense that she’d get it right. Crystal thinks, answering her own question. I dress like something out of a five-year-old’s wildest dreams. Still, pretty impressive.

An indignant part of her wants to insist that she can handle bitterness, thank you so much, but Crystal’s never been a great liar, and something tells her this girl wouldn’t buy it either.

“Is that… a good thing?” Crystal says, a dumb grin spreading on her face. Get it together, Crystal.

“What? Girl, in what world is diabetes a good thing?” Gigi cackles. “It’s horrible. I get an iced black coffee, for reference.”

“Ew,” Crystal blurts without thinking. Shit, I said that out loud. She immediately flushes and tries to take it back. “Or, no, I mean, not ew, but-”

“No no, it’s okay! I know some people just aren’t mature enough for Big Girl coffee,” Gigi mocks. Crystal would usually be offended, but judging from the way Gigi’s blue eyes are sparkling with mirth, she knows the girl’s just joking.

She still makes a sort of offended squeak, pouting. “I just like the way sweet stuff tastes!”

“Okay, okay!” Gigi holds her hands up in surrender, barely concealing a grin. “Don’t pout, you’re too cute to pout.”

The squeak that escapes Crystal is real this time. Gigi called her cute? Is she flirting or just being nice? I’m probably delusional. Right?

There’s a moment where neither girl speaks. It hangs in the air with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, mixing until Crystal’s half sure the entire cafe’s suddenly been turned into some sort of fairy-tale confection. She’s afraid to move, like the space around her will crackle and shatter if she does. It’s quiet, safe for the background of the coffee grinder going steadily and some gentle R&B flowing out of the sound system.

It’s a comfortable sort of silence. Crystal likes it, feels safe in the cocoon-like ambience. She wonders why she’s never come to this cafe before. Maybe it’s time to break her Starbucks addiction, explore a bit more.

Gigi clears her throat.

“So, how does a double chocolate cookie dough frappe with Nutella drizzle sound?” Gigi asks, finger already poised above the cash register screen.

Perfect.

Okay no, she can’t say that. Crystal clears her throat, trying to come up with a response that’s not as corny. She eyes the wall opposite the counter, where the menu is, then Gigi, confused.

“Wait, I don’t see it on the menu?” She scans the menu again, trying to find Gigi’s recommendation. Did she miss it? Her coffee budget is $3, what with rent due at the end of this week. Hopefully, Gigi’s recommendation isn’t over that limit.

“Oh! Yeah, um, I kinda just made it up right now.” Gigi flushes, sounding a bit flustered. She rushes to explain. “My boss is, like, super cool though! She lets me experiment and stuff. And I can just ring you up for a hot chocolate and it’ll be our little secret.”

In truth, this is Gigi’s first time making anything off-menu, so she isn’t sure what her boss Widow’s policy on the practice is. But she has this inexplicable urge to want to impress this girl. Gigi wants her to love the drink she orders.

I mean, it can’t go that bad, right? She reasons. Worst case scenario Widow takes it out of my tips or something. But Widow’s nice. She probably won’t do that.

“Well, in that case,” Crystal starts, and then changes her mind. “Actually, what did you say you usually ordered? Black coffee? I’ll take that.”

A shocked noise escapes Gigi. “I get an iced black coffee. You sure you want that?”

“Yeah yeah yeah! I can handle it, you’ll see,” Crystal hears herself say. This is an astronomically bad idea, she knows, but then again, she’s never been one to turn down a challenge. She wants to impress Gigi, and what with her teasing earlier, she honestly feels like she has something to prove.

“Okay, your funeral,” Gigi relents, raising an eyebrow. “That’ll be $2.49, then.”

Crystal hands her card over, watching Gigi go through the motions of scanning it, handing it back to her, and tearing off the receipt.

“You want the receipt?” Gigi asks.

“Nah, I trust you,” Crystal winks at the other girl, surprising even herself with her boldness.

Crystal thinks she sees Gigi redden, though that could just be a combination of her makeup and a trick of the light. Something tells her that the redhead is fond of blush, what with the way the coral powder has been taken across the bridge of Gigi’s nose and on her cheekbones.

“Okay!” Gigi flashes her a smile and grabs a cup and sharpie. Two can play this game. “Can I get a name for the order, babes?”

“Um, it’s- it’s Crystal.” Crystal blinks, trying to figure out whether she heard that right. Whatever boldness possessed her to wink at the pretty girl in front of her fled the moment that pet name passed Gigi’s lips.

“Well, nice to meet you then, It’s It’s Crystal,” Gigi says with a smirk. “One iced black coffee coming right up! Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring it to you when it’s done.”

Crystal plops down at the nearest table, watching Gigi work. Now that she has an excuse to just quietly observe, Crystal takes in Gigi’s full appearance. Her red hair is glossy and shiny under the sunlight that streams through the cafe’s windows, and she moves with expert ease through the space behind the counter. Her apron is checkered red and white. It’s tied in a bow at the back—a bow that’s lopsided, sagging slightly to the left, Crystal notes with a smile.

The girl is gorgeous, there’s no doubt about it. If Crystal met her on the street she definitely would have mistaken her for a model. And she was nice, too.

Nobody ever noticed her freckles or complimented her on her earrings the first time they met her. Most people thought her style of dress was weird, and Crystal figures that’s fair enough. Just the other day she wore a magenta jumpsuit with matching bunny ears. Anyone in their right mind would be a little taken aback at her fashion (as Jaida put it, her aesthetic is best described as “thrift store on acid.” Not exactly everyone’s cup of tea.) But Gigi got her right away, and a little part of Crystal wants to take that as a sign. Okay, maybe a large part.

Just as Crystal’s about to get lost in her daydreams again, Gigi bustles over with two cups, one in each hand.

“I made you a cookie dough frappe just in case,” She says, setting both cups on the table. “It’s on the house.”

Crystal exhales a light laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh,” Gigi says. She shifts her weight onto the other foot, suddenly shy, and gestures lamely towards the two drinks. “I wanted to. Just in case, like, the black coffee was too bitter. Sorry. You don’t have to drink it, uh, if you don’t want to.”

She offers an awkward smile. “I won’t force you.”

“Oh! Uh, no!” Crystal says, a little louder than necessary in her haste to reassure the other girl. Gigi jumps, and Crystal grabs her hand out of impulse. The movement jerks Gigi closer to her. “I mean, thanks. You don’t have to apologize. It’s really sweet of you to think of that.”

Gigi blushes, and Crystal’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she’s holding the girl’s hand.

And the fact that they’re the only people in this cafe. And the fact that when Crystal grabbed Gigi’s hand, it sent her stumbling a step closer, so now she’s pressed right against Crystal’s leg.

Gigi is very, very close to her all of a sudden, and her hair is really pretty, especially with the sunlight backlighting the frizz into a golden halo. She looks like an angel, and her eyes are hypnotizing.

Crystal wants to kiss her.

“Okay,” Gigi whispers, and licks her lips. It dawns on Crystal that she said that last part out loud. Fuck.

But Crystal can’t think, can’t panic, because Gigi’s so close and she smells like chocolate cake when it’s freshly out of the oven and still gooey in the center, just the way her abuelita makes it, and she’s warm and everything Crystal has ever imagined or wanted. Everything molecule in Crystal is telling her to crash into Gigi, and she decides to just go along with her instincts, because when a pretty girl is that close to her there’s no way Crystal can think logically.

“O-kay,” Crystal whispers back, stretching out the word, and then Gigi’s lips are on hers and they’re soft.

God, they’re soft. Gotta ask for her lip balm brand, Crystal thinks, because that’s a perfectly normal thing to ask someone you’re kissing, and then Gigi’s shifting positions and sliding into her lap to kiss her more comfortably and she’s lost the ability to think again.

All she can do is feel, feel the way Gigi’s hand snakes around her waist, the way Gigi’s eyelashes are fluttering against her nose bridge, the way Gigi’s hair is smooth as she tangles a hand in it, the way her heart feels like it’s soaring and exploding all at once and each one of her veins seems to be pumped full of fizzy champagne all of a sudden. All she can feel is Gigi, and she thinks she likes that.

As they part, Crystal accidentally bumps her nose against Gigi’s. She pulls away, wincing, and meets Gigi’s eyes for one very still moment. They peer at each other in wonder, as if discovering each other for the first time, and then Gigi’s lips quirk and she’s giggling. Before long, Crystal’s joining in too, and both lose it, still riding high off the adrenaline of the kiss.

After they’ve both calmed down, Crystal motions to the drinks on the table. “Wanna share?”

Gigi smiles softly at her. “Yeah, sure.”

Crystal grabs the black coffee and takes a small, tentative sip. She immediately chokes, breaking into a coughing fit. Gigi pounds her back, hard, then races behind the counter and pours her a small cup of water. After Crystal’s done hacking her guts out, she accepts it gratefully, trying to catch her breath.

“That,” She pants, “Is fucking disgusting.”

Gigi lets out a full-bellied laugh. It’s the prettiest thing Crystal’s ever heard, she thinks, which is saying a lot because she’s been to at least one show for all four of the One Direction tours. ‘“What a feeling” harmonies can’t even come close to the magic of Gigi’s laugh. Crystal wants to hear it over and over.

“I tried to warn you,” Gigi says with a snort, then covers her mouth, eyes wide and mortified, clearly shocked at the sound she produced. The comical expression sends Crystal straight into another bout of laughter, and before long they’re both losing it again.

Sometime later in the afternoon, somehow, Gigi ends up in Crystal’s lap again. Crystal’s lost track of time, but she doesn’t mind. She wants to kiss Gigi again, and again, and again. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of looking at her, kissing the sweet almond balm off her lips, touching her. Crystal wants to be in her presence forever. Gigi’s tongue pokes out of the left side of her mouth as she gazes down at Crystal, lazily tracing the smattering of freckles across her nose, forehead, and cheekbones with her peach nails.

“I wanna kiss every one of them,” Gigi whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Then: “They’re cute.”

Crystal’s pretty sure if she wasn’t already giving heart eyes to Gigi, they are most certainly happening now. “You’re cute.”

“Can I? Kiss them.”

“There’s a lot of them,” Crystal says. It’s breathy, a challenge and a plea at the same time.

Gigi smiles, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind Crystal’s ear. “We have time.”

And they do, so Crystal lets Gigi kiss her until the drinks beside them are both completely melted and the whipped cream in Crystal’s has gone all weepy and deflated. Gigi insists on making her a new one, and on entering her number into Crystal’s phone before she leaves.

Crystal goes home and dreams of her.