#ANYWAY good luck to those that read all this I love you and I’m sorry

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!" 

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that! 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away. 

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him. 

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com. 

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless. 

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.   

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk. 

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes. 

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you. 

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either. 

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you. 

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost. 

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. 

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck!  Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO  for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it  cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[vaaaaaiolet]

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket. A kiss is bestowed upon on your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. “This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

Leon keeps his best tales under lock and key, and you crack one out of him on a particularly sleepless night. He thinks you might like this one.

f / m, fluff sprinkled in with angst and emotional hurt, insomnia, grief + mourning, leon is a sweetheart he just loves you :(, he basically tells you a fairy tale before bed

word count: 1.6k // read on ao3

a/n: um. norman fucking rockwell, baby. if you catch the lyrics from "How to disappear", i love you. i wrote this fic like i was possessed 😭 nothing was planned

There aren’t any waves outside your landlocked bedroom window to lull you to sleep, but there is another ocean view you can think of. You turn to the other side of your pillow, biting your lip hopefully.

“Hi, sweetheart,” the view mumbles, ocean eyes groggy and losing the fight against sleep.

You’re in luck.

“Leon,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Don’t know why…you’re not tired,” he yawns, his blond lashes almost fluttering closed before snapping open at your wide-eyed expression, “when you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

You cram the comforter to your chin and flip to the other side of the bed with a groan. 

Leon chuckles, giving your shoulder a sleepy shake, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

He’s not sorry. But you relent anyway. 

“Tell me a story,” you mumble as he tucks you back in.

You brush a strand of hair across his forehead to unveil those ocean eyes again. They’re faded and tired, yes, but they’ve also seen more of the world than you could ever dream of. The only good thing to come out of Leon’s mysterious missions to the ends of the earth is the treasure trove of stories he brings back with him, like a Cave of Wonders, filled with only the best for you to unlock. You don’t know anything about the outside of that cave – he stops telling the story if you ask – and you’re not in any position to argue as the clock ticks closer to morning.

“What’s the magic word?” he nudges.

Is he really going all open sesame on you too?

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket.  

A kiss is bestowed upon your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. 

“This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

“One thing you have to know before I start anything though, sweetheart, is that this girl was a spitfire. Completely unreasonable. She was the type to pack a grocery cart full of ice cream she swore was on discount only to have all of it be full price and melt in the checkout line.”

(“That was one time!”)

“Never said a thing about it being you, sweetheart, shh. You’re supposed to be trying to sleep. But either way, this girl couldn’t be you because she was a princess – a real pretty one at that. Sweet, smart and kind like little girls grow up wanting to be. She lived in a castle by the sea on an island in the middle of nowhere, and here’s what I heard about her on my last mission. You’ll like this one.

“Life on that island was as peaceful as you can get in a fairy tale. She had plenty of mermaids for friends and animals to keep her company, but you can’t help getting lonely after the years start passing by. The princess was stuck there, you see.”

(“How’d she get there to begin with?”)

“Uh-uh, you’re interrupting me.” Leon teases. “Story or no story?”

(“Story, please.”)

“Magic, alright? Say she got stolen away by some evil witch like Rapunzel did and her kidnapper drowned in the sea. I don’t know. But it didn’t really matter because that island became home after a while. A beautiful home, but lonely all the same. The mermaids all returned to their castle under the sea when the moon came up and the princess wished had somebody she could sleep next to when it got cold at night. 

“She was fond of stories too, like somebody else I know, and after all those years on that island, she’d read every book in the castle and longed for someone who could tell her something new. All she ever wished for on her birthday was a friend. ‘Just for a little bit’, she’d beg.”

Leon sucks in a careful breath.

“So one night, the ocean decided to send the princess a birthday present just like she asked. A magic tide deposited a little boat on the edge of her island, and when the princess woke up the next morning and looked outside her window, she saw something – or rather, somebody – slumped inside of that boat.”

(“And inside that boat was a prince?”)

“No prince. The princess made sure of it too, brave thing that she was, walking right up to the boat and taking a good look at who was sleeping inside of it. 

“The boy inside that boat was dead to the world with cuts on his face from fighting too hard. He gave the princess a good scare ‘cause he was so asleep she thought he was actually dead. When he woke up and asked ‘Who are you?’, she nearly punched him out of fright.”

(“You were right, I think I like her.”)

Leon laughs, bright and warm.

“But this boy was a real charmer, and the princess was kind, remember?”

(“Bummer.”) 

“She didn’t go around punching people out of nowhere. Especially not the first human she’d ever seen. Her curiosity got the best of her and she took the boy to her castle, where he told her he was a mercenary from a faraway kingdom. He’d been on his way to kill a rampaging sea monster when a mysterious wind blew his boat off course and right onto the princess’ island. 

“Over breakfast, the mercenary told her stories about monsters, jungles, fire-breathing dragons, stuff she’d only ever read about. She was entranced. The more he spoke, the more the princess wanted to see for herself even though she knew she couldn’t. She had to be smart about it.”

Leon swallows. He nestles the blanket around you a little tighter, like you’d slip out of his grasp, and continues.

“The boy was battered from the beating he took from his voyage, so the princess nursed him back to health. I told you she was stubborn, right? She wouldn’t take any of the gold or jewels he tried offering her from his travels. All she asked for was a new story each day he stayed with her. He agreed.

“The first week went by in a flash. The princess borrowed magic green herbs from her mermaid friends to heal the mercenary faster. The herbs made him strong enough to move mountains if he wanted to, so he pounded a couple to the ground outside her castle just to prove he could when she asked, and with the new space, the princess made him a place to stay. Turns out she was a great businesswoman; the boy spun tale after tale for her while she fixed a loneliness deep in his bones. Everything was perfect.”

(“Aww…”) 

“The boy stayed longer than he thought he would. His boat collected dust as that week turned into months. Those months grew into a year. The princess’ birthday rolled around again.”

(“Did they fall in love?”)

“They did, sweetheart.”

Leon chuckles softly.

“He ended up loving her a lot, and the princess loved him too, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not usually how it goes in fairy tales, is it? There’s a catch.”

You reach for Leon’s hand in the deep of the comforter, not remembering when he let go.

“Good sailors know not to mess with the ocean. It wasn’t too pleased with the princess keeping the boy to herself for more than just a little bit, not when he needed to get rid of that sea monster that had been killing millions of innocent people. So on the night of the princess’ birthday, the sea asked the boy to go back to being a mercenary. He needed to do his job and the princess wasn’t part of it.”

(“Tell me he stayed, Leon.”)

“Princess, I can’t-”

(“Make him stay.”)

And for the first time, Leon stutters because he never changes the story.

“A-Alright, so the boy stays. He tells the sea that he fell in love and can’t bear to leave the princess behind.”

(“And then?”)

“And then…and then he finds out he’s in over his head. The tide comes and goes, everything has to have a balance. He needed to go because he had to protect all those people, and he couldn’t do that by staying with the princess no matter how much he loved her, right?”

Lifting the blanket aside, Leon falls onto his back. You watch the ceiling fan blades spin in the dull sea-blue of his eyes. 

“The princess asked him to stay and he couldn’t say no to her. She meant well. She didn’t…she didn’t know. And they were happy together on that island until the boy’s decision caught up with him. The sea monster he was supposed to kill found their island one day, sweetheart.”

(“...Leon, no. That’s not supposed to happen.”)

“It’s how the story goes,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours.

You barely feel it; you taste saltwater in his kiss, feel it running down your face.

“But you changed it!” You’re crying, can’t find his hand. Where’d he go? He’s supposed to be here, you changed the stupid story, you have to make him stay. 

The ocean might not be outside your window, but you still see it behind glass as you prop yourself up on your elbows, heaving for breath only to find Leon’s framed picture sitting beside your pillow.

His eyes are so blue. Ghostly in the dark. 

You must have dropped it when sleep took you under. Your earbuds are still hooked up to a podcast in an earlier effort to bore yourself to sleep, but you don’t really want to hear about relaxing Zen gardens right now. Tugging everything out of your ears, your shaking finger opens the notes app. 

Right now, you’re in the mood for a story. A story with a happy ending where no one goes anywhere.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[scoops-aboy86]

Crushing (Secret Admirer pt 6)

Steddie Week 2024, July 6: Dizzy / drunken confessions / Crush on You by Bruce Springsteen

Fun fact: there are “sorry”s to correspond with a nat 20. It’s a luck thing, though more reflexive than actually hopeful. 

If you turn 6 upside down it's a 9 and today's the 9th, so I would argue that I am still right on time. 🙃 Anyway, I didn't get to the drunken confession part but it was getting too long, so that can be in the last chapter. Enjoy!

wc: 3034 / rated: T / set during season 3 / also on ao3

Sweet Steve, perfect Steve, golden Steve,

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I cannot adequately express how much I regret hanging up on you. It happened a few minutes ago and I’m already writing this because I can’t call back now, not after that. I can’t believe I even did that, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid because you were saying all these perfect things? Literally everything I never thought I’d get to hear from anyone ever and then I ruined it. 

(The scribbles in the margins are representative of all the times I stop writing just to explosively cuss myself out for being so chickenshit. It looks messy but I am a mess and it’s all my own doing, made my bed and lying in it etc. etc., if I could mount my own head on a pike right now I would Jesus H. CHRIDJDBBWLSNEVEOALAVSVALAMDBDBXJXLFKENSVAVWUELMFBDUSKANS <— an example and demonstration)

I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I started this and can’t seem to follow through, I’m sorry I keep yanking you around when it’s not what you deserve sweetheart, it isn’t at all. You were perfect, do you hear me? I had a whole list of songs planned, but picked that one spontaneously because you weren’t digging WASP and I was thinking about the way you’re so hard on yourself sometimes about the guy you were in high school, even though all high schoolers are idiots. (With how many times I’ve had to repeat, I am an expert on this, obviously largely from personal study and reflection.) You didn’t peak in high school, Steve, because you are a wonderful person right now and that’s what matters. You call yourself a romantic sap but I love that about you, please never lose that. 

With every letter you’ve poured out a little of your soul; it only seems right that I try to do the same to make up for my… everything. 

I’m a guy. I’m gay. I’ve never written that down before so explicitly but it’s true. You were so thoughtful about the whole music thing and trying to show we can have common interests but, to be blunt, unless dick is one of those I don’t think this is going to work out. 

No hard feelings obviously. It’s on me for letting this go on so long without being more honest. This is absolutely no reflection on you and does not make you queer by association. I won’t tell anyone—though if I did I’m not considered credible or trustworthy in this town, believe me. 

If you’ve read this far… I mean, I won’t know unless you tell me, obviously. But it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that you’re a good dude. The only person in my life who knows about me and knows my name is the man who’s more like a father to me than my “real” dad; it’s nothing personal, I’ve just had some bad experiences. Remember that concussion I mentioned? … Yeah, that was courtesy of the ol’ sperm donor. Thought I was over freezing up about it after more than half a decade, but no such luck!

On that note, I need to go… not be a person for a while. Take care. I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. The song you said you liked was Rainbow In The Dark by Dio, off his Holy Diver album. It’s a good album, even if I’ve blown it with you I still hope you check it out sometime. 

Eddie drops the pen over the side of his bed, practically throwing it. He drops the notebook he’d scribbled the letter in to the floor; he’ll tear it out and mail it later. 

Probably. 

Maybe. 

He’ll think about it, once he’s done not wanting to think anything at all. 

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Are you okay? I can’t call you back, so the best I can do right now is write. I shouldn’t have pushed you again, I keep doing that, like an idiot. 

I was having a nice time

Call back whenever, if I’m there I’ll pick up. Call back tonight even, except I can’t get this in the mail until tomorrow so never mind, but I won’t be mad, I promise. Or you can write to me. Please. At least to be friends, if you’re tired of how I always come on too strong (which is literally what Robin keeps telling me with that damn whiteboard all the time, go figure). And maybe you can tell me more about your music, like that one with the rainbows? I think that maybe you’ve been writing to me so much because maybe you’re lonely too, and I know how much that sucks. 

So, I’ll be here. Whoever you are, wherever, I hope you’re okay. Stay safe. 

— Steve

~

All Steve can think about is how stupid he was, pushing Secret Admirer like that. He hasn’t gotten a letter yet, and genuinely doesn’t know if he ever will again. 

Robin doesn’t ask why he’s quieter than usual during work for the next few days. Dustin returns from Camp Know Where and Steve tells him he doesn’t want ice cream because he has to stay in shape for the ladies, but it leaves the bad taste of a mostly-lie in his mouth. 

Because, oh yeah, breaking news: he thinks Secret Admirer is probably a guy. 

That would explain the adamant secrecy, the way the letters are careful not to suggest one or the other. No matter how embarrassing Steve is, a girl would have less to lose compared to a gay dude being outed in Hawkins. And he knows for a fact there were rumors circulating after Jonathan Byers gave him his first and mildest concussion in ‘83. Rumors about what he’d said, what he’d spat at the guy, all no doubt spread by Tommy and Carol. All his past actions coming together to prove that he can’t be trusted, can’t be confided in, even after everything. 

It’s almost secondary that it doesn’t seem to make a difference to his feelings. He may have fallen for someone who happens to be a guy—so what? It’s better than crushing loneliness. Better than no one caring. Better than being forgotten aside from his douchebag legacy at school and all his parents’ dashed aspirations for his future. 

Then Steve finds himself trapped in a Russian elevator with Robin, Dustin, and Lucas’s little sister (who should absolutely not be here, what the fuck were they thinking) and he just. 

He just regrets never getting to say goodbye. 

~ 

Eddie gets Steve’s letter the day he manages to crawl out of his room long enough to mail his own, checking his PO Box like a nervous tic. He’s absolutely floored by what he reads and screams into his pillow some more because it doesn’t change anything, because Steve wrote it while still not in possession of all the facts. 

After a drive out to Reefer Rick’s to replenish his stash, Eddie does the bare minimum of his regularly scheduled drop-offs. No rest for the wicked, because even the wicked need gas money and shit, but it’s all just halfhearted busy work. 

Then he goes home. Against all common sense and knowing that for the sake of his own heart he probably shouldn’t, he spends the rest of the day trying to call. Every time he punches in the numbers with his heart in his throat, but no one ever picks up. 

~

“Ask me anything,” Robin prods blearily from her stall. “Interrogate me.” 

Steve tries to think through the swimming in his head. “Okay, uh… When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today!”

He almost laughs. “No way. What?”

“When the Russian doctor brought his bone saw out. It was just a little bit though!” 

He can picture her holding one hand up, fingers pinched together to indicate a tiny amount. And, okay, fair. “Yeah it’s definitely in her system,” he mumbles to no one. 

“My turn,” she declares. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve does laugh this time, not because it’s funny but because the question hits him right between the eyes. “Shit, yeah, a couple times. Uh, first was Nancy Wheeler, junior year.”

“Ooooh… She’s such a priss, though.”

“Yeah, turns out, not so much.” He shrugs, even though she can’t see, hands dangling from where his arms are draped over his bare, scraped knees. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t ache—including his stomach and throat now, fucking Russian drugs. 

“Huh.” Robin pauses. “So… who was second?”

Sighing, Steve drops his head back against the metal divider at his back. “That blind phone date I told you about.”

It’s a toss-up as to whether he’s admitting this because of the aforementioned drugs or because he’s just too tired to give a shit anymore. What does it really matter, at this point?

“Really? Wow. Okay, I didn’t realize that got so serious.”

Steve lets his eyes fall closed, despite what is likely his third concussion in almost as many years. “It kind of didn’t, I just got… over-invested, I guess. I don’t know if he’s going to write again anyway.”

“H… he?”

“I think so. It was a secret admirer kind of deal, so I never actually knew, but… every time I brought up meeting in person, things went wrong. And like an idiot I kept doing that, so. I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be over.”

Robin’s hand smacks on the tile floor—gross. “How do you not even know for sure after a phone date? Gay guys still sound like guys, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, a little stung by her reproachful tone. “I talked and he didn’t, he just played some of his favorite songs for me to see if I liked them. Which I did, some of it. It was like, really hard rock or something, not what I usually listen to—”

“I’ll say, Mr. ‘No, Not My Wham! Cassette!’”

“—but it was okay. There were some really cool guitar parts.”

“And it… doesn’t bother you? That a guy was, uh, hitting on you?”

Again, Steve shrugs. “More writing love letters than just hitting on me, but… yeah. I was in pretty deep by the time I figured it out, but I guess not. Is it my turn to ask another question?”

“Um… Sure?”

He’s not sure why she sounds so nervous, figures it should be obvious what he’s going to ask next. It’s kind of a staple of their friendship at this point. “Who sent me that ice cream cone? The strawberry with rainbow sprinkles?”

Dead silence. 

“Robin?” he asks with a flicker of nerves, because, well. It’s been a long day. (Or two days? He’s lost track of how much time they’d spent underground.) “You OD over there?”

“No… I am alive,” she replies, but in such a quiet voice that it doesn’t really reassure him all that much. 

He shifts, scooting on his ass to get under the divider between them and pop back up on her side. It gives him a wedgie, but that’s the least of his problems. 

Robin wrinkles her nose at him. “Steve, these floors are disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already covered in blood and probably some puke, so.” He tests his tongue on his bottom lip, trying to decide if the split is still bleeding or if it just stings for the hell of it. “Who was it?”

She bites her own lip, then whispers, “Is it your secret admirer?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he tells her. 

“Okay.” But she’s still hesitating. “Before I tell you… About what I said down there, about Click’s class. I wasn’t staring at you because of you, it… it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve blinks, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Who? Mrs. Click?”

Robin shakes her head faintly without breaking eye contact, literally without blinking as she whispers, “Tammy Thompson.”

“But she’s a… Oh. Oooh.” He remembers Tammy. She’d always fawned over him in that class, back when he’d been so busy mourning the way things had gone with Nancy that he hadn’t given her the time of day. “Yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Pretty, perky, blonde… She’s a total dud though.”

Robin gapes at him. “What?”

He waves a hand. “I’d just broken up with Nancy, and she was all over me all the time, dropping these hints about wanting to go out. It’s like she wanted to be a rebound relationship.”

“So? She’s goal oriented!”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone! Also, she wants to be a country singer but she couldn’t hold a tune if someone put it in a bucket for her.”

Sputtering, Robin smacks at his shin, one of the few places he isn’t bloody or bruised. “I will not take this superiority from the guy who’s surprise-crushing on Eddie Munson!” 

Shock zings through Steve like he’s just had his fingers jammed into an electrical socket. “On—really?”

He remembers Munson too. Who wouldn’t? Loud and weird, and the guy had always seemed perpetually on, always bristled like a porcupine. Stalking around campus in a black leather jacket regardless of weather and ripped black jeans. (Dark colors.) That denim vest with all the weird band patches on it. (Music that Steve didn’t know anything about.) Big flashy rings on his fingers, and Steve knows he’s in some sort of band, probably has guitar calluses. (Hands that would give him away at a glance.) Up on cafeteria tables with his Hellfire Club shirt and long hair, taunting the jocks who gave his friends shit. (Nerd, check. Not into sports, triple check. He’s pretty sure the dude had failed gym at least once for refusing to wear gym shorts.)

Literally the last person in Hawkins who should’ve had eyes for King Steve.

“Munson likes me?” Steve can’t feel his face too well, what with the beating he’d taken earlier during interrogation, so he’s not sure if he’s blushing. His voice definitely does something funny on the last word, though. 

“He said not to tell you who it was from because he thought you might toss it if you knew it was from him,” Robin admits. “Which seemed like a reasonable concern at the time, but that’s because I didn’t know—”

But then Dustin bursts in on them. The kid looks frazzled, and from there on out it’s all running and more blood and a monster made out of people and fireworks and death, their bathroom conversation forgotten. 

~

Eddie had given up on calling around the time the fireworks show started over the mayor’s kiss-ass 4th of July fair. Downed a couple beers while trying not to wonder if Steve found a date to take. Is still awake when Wayne comes in from his shift, and wanders out of his room because anything’s got to be better than staring at the ceiling. 

“Starcourt burned down,” his uncle tells him while Eddie moves zombie-like through the motions of making them each a cup of coffee. “Radio said the police ain’t ruling out arson. Drove past it on the way, there’s search and rescue folks crawling all over the rubble lookin’ for survivors.”

After Wayne goes to bed, Eddie tries dialing Steve’s number one more time. 

No one answers. 

~

After much pleading from Robin, and since Steve’s car keys are still god knows where and his parents are out of town, the Buckleys graciously agree to let him stay in their guest room. It’s just as well, Robin insists; with the concussion, someone should be around to check on him every few hours. 

“That’s only for the first twenty-four,” he points out the next day. He knows the drill. 

“I don’t care,” Robin insists. “You took a beating to protect the rest of us. You could have been killed, Steve! I am checking on you every few hours for the rest of my life from now on, just see if I don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groans, but he’s grinning. Despite the way his ribs and head throb, and the dark circle under the eye that isn’t literally still swollen shut, it’s nice to have someone to be normal with—not ignoring what had happened, he’d learned his lesson about that with Nancy, but taking it into account and then going ‘yes and.’  “Or at least make sure to always knock first.”

“Why w—Ew! Never mind, if you’re feeling good enough to make jokes then you’re probably fine, offer rescinded.”

“You’re still gonna,” Steve points out, then knocks back the painkillers she’s brought him. Mr. Buckley’s shoulder surgery prescription, meet two broken ribs, black eye, and recently re-set nose. 

She sits on the edge of the bed, next to the duffel bag of clothes from his house that her mom had driven her to pick up for him. “Yeah yeah, shut up.”

Silence settles over them for a moment while Steve tries to get comfortable. And fails. His ribs really aren’t doing him any favors today. The discomfort is why he’s still in unflatteringly baggy shorts borrowed from Mr. Buckley and a t-shirt Robin had thrown at his head as a joke (and then helped him out on, since he can’t lift his arms that high without wanting to scream) that declares him a fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

He has no idea how to pronounce Siouxsie and is kind of afraid to ask. 

“Sooo,” Robin starts. “Eddie Munson, huh?”

“Uh.” Steve can’t run a hand through his hair with his stupid ribs, not when he’s not running entirely on adrenaline or before the painkillers kick in, so he settles for twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah? I guess so. His letters are… They’re really good, Rob. I kinda don’t know why he keeps writing when my replies are so crappy. Like… I can’t even do them justice trying to explain.”

“Huh.” She waits a beat. “Well, I checked your mailbox, just in case, and there was a hand-addressed envelope that I brought back for you—”

Ribs be damned, Steve lunges for that duffel.

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

[lilisettean]

Unspoken Rivalry | Zayne/Reader + Implied!Caleb/Reader

About: Ever since that incident, you rarely mentioned Caleb to anyone. So when you suddenly brought him up while in the fitting room with Zayne, his curiosity was piqued, albeit unwillingly.

Pairings: Zayne/Reader, Implied!Caleb/Reader

Notes: Sorry for repost and not smut haha. Decided to put all my L&DS writings here on this sideblog instead of my main blog because I didn't want to muddle things up. Anyway got this idea when Zayne was surprised at MC knowing how to tie a tie and I was like, HMMM maybe because she had practice with Caleb??? But nope the game went the other way.

AO3: Read here!

Warning: Implied love triangle.

“I’m shocked. I didn’t expect you to be good at tying a tie.”

You inspected the black tie you had selected for Zayne for a moment, nodding in approval at your own tastes. 

“Why, of course.” You said with a smile, glancing at him before directing him to face the full length mirror before you two. “I had a lot of practice.”

“Practice?”

“Caleb.” Zayne raised his eyebrows at the sudden mention of that name; your mutual childhood friend who had sadly passed away months prior. You rarely mentioned him nowadays, so to hear his name slip past your lips without anything prompting was a surprise.

“I… I used to do his tie for him before we went to school.” You whispered, fond memories of you tying his school tie while you complained about him not doing it himself surfaced. It felt like it was just yesterday when you complained about his odd request of making you do this every school day morning, but now… 

“I’m sure he’s capable of doing it himself.” Zayne remarked, careful with his choice of words. He eyed you through the mirror, pointedly ignoring the sting of jealousy that made itself known when he saw you smiled wistfully.

You shook your head and looked ahead, eyes unseeing and absorbed in those innocent, carefree days where everything was still normal. “He said it’s for good luck.” You explained, missing the light bemused snort beside you. “He would whine about not having the goddess of luck’s blessing if I didn’t.” 

‘That could’ve been you in his place.’ A traitorous part of him mumbled, and Zayne promptly shoved that thought back to the corners of his mind. But it ceased to be silenced. ‘That should’ve been you. But you chose to distance yourself.’ 

‘It was for her sake.’ 

‘But was it worth it? Missing precious time with her? Being replaced by someone else?’ That voice hissed, reminding him of the reluctant distance he had placed between him and you. He told himself that it was necessary for him to focus on his studies if he wanted to take care of you in the future, and that indulging in your presence then would only hinder his carefully laid plans. ‘You were the perfect match for her and yet you–’ 

Opting not to let his darker, less desirable thoughts taunt him, Zayne focused on you instead, placing a hand behind the small of your back and brought you before the mirror. 

“Do you think we still match?” He asked, his hushed question barely over the calming instrumentals that the shop you were in chose to play. If it weren’t for him being right next to you, you would’ve missed his question entirely.

You scrutinized his outfit through the mirror, and smiled. “I think we do.” 

“Good.” Zayne let out a breath he unconsciously held back. He stared at his reflection once more, wondering. Would he have had the same treatment if he had stayed?

If Caleb was still the same boy he had met all those years ago, he would’ve hated you extending the same care towards Zayne himself. He remembered being at the receiving end of Caleb’s piercing gaze multiple times when they were still together, especially when you had looked to Zayne instead of him for certain matters.

‘The past matters naught. What’s important is now and the future.’ He thought as he turned his focus towards you, silencing the doubts of you favoring Caleb over him.

“Will you tie my tie for me on that day then?” He asked, the corners of his lip threatening to twitch upward when you stared at him, perplexed.

“Do you need the goddess of luck’s blessing as well?” You joked in response, only to sigh when you realized he was serious. “Don’t tease me, Zayne. Why would you need me to do it anyway?”

“For luck.”

“Why would you need luck of all things? It’s just a banquet!”

“You never know.” Zayne parroted the words you said this morning. You sighed, wondering if he lied about only studying and joined a debate club when he was still in school.

“Fine! I don’t understand why you and Caleb want me to tie it when you two could do it better than me.” A small smile appeared on his face as you grumbled, preparing to change out of the outfit he had picked out for you.

‘You will understand eventually.’ He thought as a staff member approached him with his card and receipt in hand, thanking him for his patronage. 

‘For what man wouldn’t want their goddess' attention?’

[mazzystar24]

I totally get I just finished my exam week (I had to do a math test at 8am Sat😭). Wish you luck tho!

Also do you have any good buddies fics? Destiel too?

Math test at 8am is BRUTAL

Thank you I will definitely need it😭😭

Unfortunately I only have buddie fics to offer😔:

(Warning I do like a fair amount of angst)

Right where you left me - by hyacinthusbloom ( @thebloomingheather on here) - when I say I might be as big a fan of this fic as I am of the show I MEAN IT, you do not even understand how much I love this fic or how obsessed I am with it, I have reread it so many times despite it still being in progress that I think I may genuinely qualify it as addictive, me and @estheticpotaeto legit wait for updates like a dog at the author’s door istg, like everything about this fic is flawless and written with so much love and emotion and the way the writer captures the effects of trauma is just amazing because it’s so rare to find this level of diving into ptsd and the more uncomfortable aspects of it that are more taboo or less understandable to people, like I can yap for an hour about this fic but I’ll just say READ IT

Any fic by daisies_and_briars ( @cal-daisies-and-briars on here) but one of my favourites of his is Both blade and branch and muscle memory and four can keep a secret and appetency and the two she’s writing right now (change the prophecy and steal my sunshine) -wow at that point I should’ve left it as any fic because that’s a lot of favourites😭😭

Any fic by @loserdiaz plus with them you get enough lighthearted fics to even out the angst

Ooo I’m not sure what their username on here is but lizzybizzyzz is also another writer who I just love their fics

Fractals by hobbitprincess - one of those fics that make you squeak at how much love these fictional characters have for each other

Beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat - the angst the writing the way they hit every single emotional beat? Amazing

Anything by this_is_moony_lovegood

Leave the light on (I’ll be coming home) by HMSLusitania - the presumed dead Eddie fic of your dreams, a constant reread for me it’s just 👌

Anchored by adorkable_buddie - sorry Chris you gotta be injured sometimes just for us to get our buddie dreams hope you understand and we appreciate your sacrifice 😔🫶

empty, broken, lonely, hoping by daniweb - when I tell you I love the presumed dead trope you best believe I’m telling the truth because the ANGST?? Yes please, LISTEN it’s the closest you can get to the emotional beats of killing off a character without ever killing them off because you love them and happy endings too much so TIM MINEAR TAKE NOTES I KNOW YOU SAID YOU LOVE THEM TOO MUCH TO KILL THEM, anyways back to to the point this fic again is just flawless execution by the writer like absolutely love it

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall - emotional destruction and I absolutely love it, divorce era 2.0 and it HITS

Home is where it hurts- by rileyblue2001 - can you tell I hate the Buckley parents because I HATE the Buckley parents

The one with the return of the sex addiction by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) - I’ve reccomended so much angst so have a funny little light hearted buddie fic with the father bobby vibes we all love❤️❤️

Okay back to the angst tho 😭😭- out of ashes by Ashavahishta - AHHHHHHH THIS FIC JUST AHHHHH STOP THE WAY I WOULD DIE FOR A FOLLOW UP FIC TO THIS AHHHH I LOVE IT SM AND ITS LEGIT A ONE SHOT I CRIED SO HARD

Falling Slowly; Sing Your Melody (I’ll Sing It Loud) by Princessfbi ( @princessfbi on here who I also love sm of their fics so highly suggest just going on their page and looking through all the fics) - absolutely love it, legit gave me brain rot and got me obsessed for a GOOD while

I'm comin' back, don't let me go by wikiangela ( @wikiangela on here also love love their fics again so check them out but this one is probably my favourite of theirs)

Okay this is looking more and more like a uni reading list so I’m gonna shut up now but I hope you enjoy these fics and that a few of them emotionally damage you like they did me because I love to spread the joy (see: pain and suffering) 🫶🫶

[vendetta-if]

Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I still think you’re writing is incredible and I look forward to every update, but am I the only one who finds Takeshi incredibly weird? Like he’s got a wife and 3 kids and yet he’s still pining over my dad who’s been dead for years now. It’s time to move on dude, come on.

If he was younger and single then I’d understand, but the way it comes off, to me at least, is pretty emotionally unfaithful. It reads like Takeshi views Viktor as “the one who got away” which is kind of a shitty attitude to have when you’re married with kids. We haven’t even met Rins mom yet and I already feel bad for her lol, this whole situation is uncomfortable.

Anyways, sorry for my rambling and if you got offended I really do apologize, I wasn’t trying to be mean. Good luck on your future writing!

I appreciate you being polite when writing this and don’t worry, I’m not offended 😁 I have talked a little bit more about him and his feelings for Viktor and about his marriage with Azami in other asks, but I realize that some of them, I answered like in the early days of this blog being up (boy, time sure does fly because it feels like yesterday to me 😭) and not everyone will have read all of the related asks.

So, everything is a lil bit more complicated for Takashi than what it might seem like on the surface, and of course, I can’t really put all of this history and backstory in the main story because it’s not focused on Takashi, or Rin, or the Aikawa, and thus, I understand why some people end up seeing Takashi in a worse light. This is, of course, not to say that he is perfect. I feel like no one in my story is perfect, even Viktor himself, and I like to keep it that way. But I hope my long-winded explanation in this post will help you get a clearer picture on Takashi and his complicated love life 😭.

And right now in the story, I’ll say that he has actually moved on from Viktor. Sure he still remembers and mourns him around the anniversary of his death, and talking about Viktor (and Yvette) is still a sore spot for him, but as they say, you don’t really forget your first love. Also, he has fixed his relationship with Azami (thus their decision to have the twins) by the time of the main story and they’re at their best right now and I’ll explain more in details below the cut.

I’ll put it under the cut because it’s going to be a long one as I try to summarize Takashi’s and Azami’s history together and some additional lore stuff for those who are interested.

For starter, his marriage to Azami was an arranged one that both of them didn’t really have any say in it and it doesn’t help that both of them didn’t even have time to properly get to know each other by the time they got married. They were also pretty young (around early to mid 20s perhaps? I don’t have my notes open right now).

It was a… politically strategic wedding that Takashi’s father and Azami’s maternal grandfather arranged.

And additional info since I don’t think I have mentioned this anywhere actually, but Azami’s maternal side of family is a Yakuza clan/family back in Japan and by establishing some kind of family relationship with the Aikawas—who focuses their businesses in the US—they hope to keep the door open for possibilities of expanding their own business abroad in the US through the Aikawas. They haven’t really done that, but it’s nice to already have and secure the connection. And vice versa for the Aikawas if they wanna do some business in Japan.

It doesn’t help that Viktor was literally Takashi’s first love and that they’ve known each other since they were kids. So, by the time of his marriage, Takashi didn’t really have enough time to kind of, let go or grow out of his feelings for his first love and he was basically getting married to a stranger.

But to think that this means that he automatically becomes an emotionally distant husband and father is wrong. He spent time talking and hanging out with Azami (mostly initiating them first because Azami is the more introverted and reserved one in their relationship), trying to build a relationship—that should’ve been built naturally in normal marriages—with his wife. It did end up being more like a platonic relationship at first than a romantic one, but still, Azami appreciated that.

He’s also a good, caring, and warm dad for Rin and he did take care of Rin as much as Azami did. I’ve said this before in another ask, but when she got married to what is basically a stranger, Azami expected the worse and Takashi was a very pleasant surprise for her.

I think along the way, Azami fell in love with him for real first, but the fact that Takashi still saw her more of a platonic partner and still had romantic feelings for Viktor at the time… It did put a strain on their marriage.

But both of them didn’t really give up on their marriage and even though it took years, they slowly work on their relationship. It was not an instant progress but over time, Takashi ends up falling in love with Azami as well and that’s also the reason why they had the twins like more than a decade after they had Rin (The twins are still very young in the story right now).

Rin was born because of both of their families’ pressure and expectation, but having the twins is the decision that Takashi and Azami made themselves out of love.

While his feelings for Viktor is still there somewhere in the background, it’s waay weaker and fainter than when he was younger. Right now in the story, I would say he has moved on, although he still remembers his first love occasionally, especially around the time of his death. After all, they say that you can’t really forget your first love.

But yeah, in the story currently, his relationship with his wife is at its best and he’s living happily with his family.

And while a part of his motivation to get Rin to marry MC is in part to kind of fulfilling an impossible dream of his, it is also just for… practical reasons. The fact is that the Aikawas have a little bit more to gain by tying the Morozovs in an alliance based on blood ties than the Morozovs do. The Morozovs have the stronger manpower and raw force/strength and nowadays, they have decent connections too.

I mentioned this before in the past ask about the two families’ history, but their alliance started out because the Aikawas were having a pretty rough time protecting their turf from the other criminal groups and families back in New York. They mostly have power by accumulating and brokering information and connections, but they’re a bit lacking in like raw force and power, and that’s where Grandpa Morozov saw the opportunity for alliance and went to talk with Takashi’s father. And the rest we know how it plays out.

So, yeah… I think that’s all I have to say in this post and I’ll definitely be referring to this post again if I ever get similar asks. I don’t know whether it helps you understand Takashi a little bit more or not, but I do hope it’s not as black and white as it once was 😅

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.5

Idiot.

The voice in my head is persistent. It’s been over two months but it’s not letting up.

I try to focus on the lines, struggling to keep the faint remnants of my Tartosan accent from creeping into Llama Man’s commanding voice. It’s always more difficult just after I’ve been home.

Idiot.

Images from the last year keep flashing by, little details seared into my brain. Her green eyes. Her smile. The delicate birthmarks artfully strewn across her face. I used to insist on kissing each of them goodbye before I left and it always made her laugh.

It was the best sound in the world.

Idiot.

The more recent images are a different story. Her tears. The look of shock and confusion in her eyes. She didn’t understand, of course, and some days I’m not sure I do either. Am I an idiot for leaving her? Or for letting myself fall in love with her in the first place?

Both?

“Alright, Paul, that was good, but let’s do an extra take just to be sure.”

I nod at the sound technician and start over.

“I’ve sent the files off to Mike. Personally, I don’t think he’ll demand another round, the last two takes were flawless.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry for dragging you in for pick-ups again, I’ve been feeling a bit off lately.”

“Hey, it’s a pay check. And I’m going to need it for the move. We want to get settled into the new house before my son’s wedding so we’re already packing.”

“Did you find a job in Henford yet?”

“Not yet, but my wife got an offer. We’ll make it work. My kid is the only family I have left, so if he moves abroad, we follow. And I never liked staying in one place for too long anyway, I get restless.”

“Well, best of luck over there, Charles. The new sound tech will have some big shoes to fill.”

“Thanks, Paul. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Charles leaves, and I turn on the coffee machine.

I’ve just finished pouring two mugs when Lee arrives.

“Oh, you must have read my mind, love, I am positively dying for a coffee right now.”

“When are you not?”

Lee settles onto the sofa with a sigh.

“It’s been one of those weeks, deadlines put such a damper on my creativity. But how was Tartosa? Did you have a nice birthday?”

“It was fine. I didn’t feel like making it a huge thing, but my mother had arranged a family dinner at the vineyard.”

“Ah, just an intimate and completely non-threatening gathering with fifteen to twenty people, then.”

I lean back against the counter and take a long sip of the coffee to avoid responding. It’s still too hot, and I grimace as the liquid burns my mouth. Idiot.

Lee isn’t so easily deterred, though.

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to see her again?”

“Lee, first of all, she blocked me. On my birthday, no less. So I’m going to take that as a big fat hint and respect her wishes. Second, I broke up with her because it was a dead end. She’s not going to settle down for another decade, and when she does, she’s not going to pick some fifty year old relic.”

Lee raises an eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, I said it. Sorry to break it to you, Lee, but you’re old. Ancient. Practically dust.”

“I’m choosing to ignore your hurtful remarks because you’re clearly heartbroken and out of your mind with grief.”

I snort. “Sorry. I’m fine, really, I’m just annoyed at myself.”

“For irrationally breaking up with the love of your life or for stubbornly refusing to reconsider?”

“For being an idiot in general, I guess. I knew it was a bad idea. I even told her as much the first time I met her. But then I just had to go back and talk to her again like a complete dumbass and she practically invited herself back to my hotel. How could I say no to that?”

Lee chuckles. “Oh, but you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t. I mean, she’s not exactly my type, but I can still appreciate the aesthetics, as it were.”

“Right? And that might even have been fine if it never went any further, but I got carried away and kept seeing her even though everyone could tell it was going to end badly. We’re both better off like this, I’ll get over it.”

Lee just looks at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Are you sure? I may be a dusty old relic but as far as I’m aware, the only way you could possibly know that she blocked you is if you spent your birthday trying to look her up.”

“Thanks, detective. It was a moment of weakness, you don’t need to rub it in my face.”

“I’m not trying to rub anything in your face, love, I know it’s not your thing. But you were clearly serious about her if you were planning to bring her to Tartosa. And just because the poor girl understandably got slightly intimidated, you drop her like a newborn giraffe. Why not give her some more time?”

“I didn’t… Lee, it was the sensible thing to do! I just turned forty, I can’t just spend years waiting for her to make up her mind and hope for the best.”

“I don’t share your fetish for monogamy, but I believe all relationships are like that, you can never be certain. But you’ve always been stubborn so I’ll just give you the usual break-up advice. Get a haircut, hit the gym, put yourself back out there. Will you at least see my stylist?”

“Never. I am not brave enough to let Jessica Clemons near my wardrobe.”

beginning / previous / next

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Alright J I hate to ask but,

I just love the fact Marty is getting NO sleep with those Docs around

Sorry that I want to see more, but really there SO GOOD!!

(p.s maybe Marty could be ‘resting’ and something that the Doc’s did woke him up, something funny maybe, idk)

DO NOT APOLOGIZE!!!! HAVE YOU SEEN MY TAGS?? I LIVE FOR THE ENTHUSIASM!!

Also what a lovely idea! Oh Marty~!

Good luck fighting him on this one, Marty. He’s a dad now. He’s used to putting stubborn kids to bed. Not pictured (because I’m lazy and didn’t wanna pose that many ppl-) is 1931 Doc and 1955 Doc standing around a shattered beaker, multiple piles of flaming…something (paper, gel, idk), and a still lit Bunsen burner. You can kinda guess what happened from there-

Transcriptions and more silly under the cut :)

*honk shooo Marty Sleeping Position.jpg*

CRASH!

Marty: What blew up? Who’s on fire?

Doc (present 1986): Everything is fine, Marty, now go lay back down- 😅

Marty: But you’re literally-

Doc: I know.

Marty: And-

Doc: Back to bed.

This will be the vicious cycle that will repeat at least twice more before Marty gets a decent amount of sleep (which is thanks to Einstein finding the chaos and laying with the poor kid like the amazing dog he is) And yes, 1986 present Doc is the best at getting the stubborn teen to sleep because of his acquired dad skills, but that doesn’t mean the other Emmetts aren’t just as capable. 1955 Doc has had to get Marty to sleep multiple times during his week there, 2015 Doc is no different, and 1931 Emmett literally let Marty sleep in during the game because he seemed really tired so what makes you think he won’t find a way to help his friend sleep?? Marty is going to rest whether he likes it or not. This is not a question, but a fact.

I’ve been playing with other characters in my mind as well, because it won’t just be Marty forever. I think Jennifer gets dragged in when they remember Marty’s parents, and she’s called in to come grab him. Speaking of George and Lorraine, either they don’t find out at all or, if they’ve figured out time travel, they do and it’s chaotic. (If you wanna see how I think them finding out would go, there’s a link to my fic on @squoosh-the-floof-writes It’s called The Truth About Time Travel do read it) Then ofc there’s Clara and the boys. Clara stumbles in first, which is nothing short of entertaining as she somehow manages to effortlessly contain the chaos (“I know how your brain works, Emmett. This is just that times four”) The boys don’t bump into all of them at first, but rather I think they meet 1931 Doc first which is just all sorts of funny. Anyway more to come from this

KEEP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GIVING YOUR THOUGHTS I LIVE FOR IT

[undercovergamer]

❤️Revenge of a Raven❤️

⚠️This fic focuses mainly on tickling. Please do not read it if that upsets you.⚠️

Ittosara content by yours truly! If Sara is out of character, please let me know. I’ve never written her before-

Summary: Basically Itto and Sara are wrestling in an act of play-fighting because Itto is hyperactive and bored and Sara could use some practice.

⚠️TW/CW: non consensual tickles at first, but it doesn’t last long and boundaries are set as an important lesson.⚠️

I wanted to explore the topic and I don’t have the language to explain why (sorry).

Itto tries to tickle Sara because he wants to see her beautiful smile. But it turns out she hates being tickled and gets upset instead, resulting in *him* being on the receiving end. That’s when she finds out the punishment is meaningless since he’s having fun. In the end he apologizes and she forgives him, but continues tickling him until he’s had enough because he’s a cutie.

Word Count: 3360

It’s strange how times can change, isn’t it? That’s what Kujou Sara was thinking anyway. Who would’ve guessed she’d end up loving Arataki Itto of all yōkai? It was almost unbelieveable to her, and yet there she was, sharing a home with this lovable dork. They had been dating for some time now, starting a while after Sara had finally agreed to that street sumo match. It turned out Itto was a great partner, both in love and in sparring. Today was no different, as the energetic oni had initiated a playfight.

“This time I’ll win for sure!” Itto boasted with a confident grin on his face, playfully wrestling his badass girlfriend. He loved her to bits, which showed in his smile.

“Hmph. Don’t get too cocky.” Sara muttered with a smirk. She was usually the one winning their playfights thanks to her speed and precision.

“Just you wait! This time, I’ve got new tricks up my sleeves!” Itto taunted, looking full of mischievous.

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.” Sara replied, challenging him.

“Oh, I will!” And try he did, managing to spin her around and hook his arms under hers in an attempt to win, holding her in place.

“Hngh…! Damn it…” she muttered, realizing he was too strong to pull away from. Well, she could probably just throw him, but this was a playfight, not a serious one.

“Heheheh! Looks like I’ve got the upper hand!” he taunted, holding her relatively tight.

“Hmph! Just you wait, I’m not surrendering yet!” Sara said with a serious tone, planning her next move.

“Well good luck getting out then, lil’ birdie~ hahahahaha!” Ugh, that teasing oni. Someone ought to shut him up to put him in his place, Sara thought. Then, she got an idea.

“Heh. You’re not the only one with tricks, oni.” Sara said with a smug smirk. The way Itto held her wasn’t too tight, and she had gained enough room from the struggle to summon her wings.

“Wha- you gonna fly? Indoors??” Itto questioned, soon realizing his fate was sealed. He’d made a crucial error of fashion choice today, as this was the wrong time to not wear a shirt.

“Not exactly~” Sara replied, quickly fluttering her feathery wings up against Itto’s torso, aiming to tickle her way out of his grip.

“Pfft~ ahahAAH!! Heh- eek! Ahahahaha!! Thahahat’s cheheheating!!” Itto protested and jumped slightly, immediately losing focus. He wasn’t expecting it to tickle so bad, giggling frantically already.

“Cheating? That’s too bad…” Sara replied, keeping up the ticklish wing flaps until the oni was weak enough to escape from. She didn’t try to break free right away though. In truth, she loved hearing that silly laughter, especially when it was confused and flustered sounding like this. Those squirms, snickers and surprised squeaks made her heart skip a beat. Who knew such a rambunctious oni could be so cute?

“Pssh~ heheheheheheh!! Stahahahahap~!” Itto whined, too stubborn to let himself lose in such an embarrassing way.

“Let me go and I might~” she teased, reaching back to tickle his neck with her fingers too, adding to the temporary torment.

“Eek!! Heheheheheh!! Gah, fihihine!!” Itto released Sara and covered himself with his arms, stepping away from those wings of hers. She turned around to face him with a mischievous smirk.

“Hmph, what’s wrong? Giving up that easily, are we?” Sara teased, wiggling her fingers towards him to tease.

“Pfft- don’t even think about it! Just wait til I- whoa!” Itto stepped back nervously, but tripped himself as he’d accidentally walked backwards into the bed and lost balance.

“Watch your six.” Sara teased with a soft laugh, dismissing her wings and taking a seat next to her boyfriend.

“Hey, c’mon! What’s so funny? You smug little-…” Itto asked, trying not to get too distracted by the smile on his girlfriend’s face. She looked so happy and carefree… so beautiful…

“Hahaha…! Looks like I win again, hm?” Sara said, smiling softly and stroked Itto’s cheek. She chuckled to herself, melting his heart. “Heh… it’s crazy how we ended up here like this, isn’t it?” she asked, admiring the oni’s rosy blush.

“Mhm… heheh, I feel like I’m the luckiest guy in the world~!” he said, pulling her down into his arms and hugging her tight.

“Hey! Haha..!” Sara let out a soft laugh, making Itto feel warm.

“I get to have the coolest, most badass girlfriend ever! All to myself~! Hahaha!” Gosh, that sweetheart…

“Pfft, let me go, you brute..!” Sara couldn’t stop smiling, lightly struggling against the other’s grip.

“Aw~ is the little birdie shy~?” Itto teased, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Don’t call me that…” Sara muttered, still embarrassed by such a nickname.

“Why not~? It suits you…” Itto said, easing up on his tight hug and switching to a gentler snuggle. Sara sighed and let herself relax, not saying another word as she cuddled closer to the oni.

Ah, what a cozy time. The sun shining in through the blinds, softly lighting up the room as the lovers enjoyed each other’s warmth. They could stay like this for the rest of the day if they wanted to. It was so quiet and nice. Itto held Sara close, his arms wrapped around her waist and her head resting against his shoulder. It felt like heaven to snuggle up with the love of her life. Sara was still surprised by how such a boisterous oni could be so relaxed and gentle. It truly warmed her heart…

“Hmm… so, are we napping now or…?” Itto asked, keeping his voice down in case she felt sleepy.

“Hm… not yet, sweetheart… Let’s just enjoy the moment…” she replied, indeed sounding sleepy as she closed her eyes. So cute…

“Mhm…” Itto agreed, letting out a satisfied sigh as he relaxed with her. All was well and soft until Sara started to get tense.

“Ah… h-hey, d-don’t do that…”

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Hmph… your hand…” Itto had been absentmindedly tracing her side with his nails, most likely in an attempt to do so on her back.

“Yeah…?” He didn’t notice it at first, but moved the hand to her back instead anyway. “Sorry~” Itto didn’t think much of it, keeping his tracings to Sara’s back for a relaxing sensation. The cuddles resumed in soft silence, until a surprised squeak came out of the woman.

“Eep! Itto…!” His hand had slipped down to her waist on accident.

“Huh?” That’s when it clicked. “What was that noise~?” Itto teased, amused by the sound his usually stoic girlfriend had made.

“Erm- ahem… It’s nothing, really. It-... it just felt weird.” Sara said, trying to sound serious despite her nervousness.

“Heheheh! Are you sure~?” Itto didn’t fall for her act though, giving a quick scribble to her waist.

“Eep! Don’t do that!” Sara protested, unable to keep herself from smiling.

“Whaaat? I’m not doing anything~” Itto taunted, chuckling to himself as his tracing slowly approached her side, making her tense.

“Pfft~…! I-Itto…!” Sara gritted her teeth.

“You’re ticklish? That’s so cute!” Itto said, smiling with love as he discovered this adorable trait.

“Sh-Shut it..!” Sara bit her lip, swatting at his hand in protest while trying not to laugh.

“Aw~ c’mon. Lemme see that smile!” Itto teased lovingly, poking at her sides.

“N-No, I- pfft-!” Sara covered her mouth, but didn’t stand a chance once she felt those pokes turn into scribbles. “Tickle tickle tickle~”

“Ihihittohohoho!! Gehehet awahahay!!” She couldn’t stand his teasing, pushing his hands away to prevent the tickling.

“Hehehe! Your laugh is so cute!” Itto didn’t seem to get the hint…

“Stohohop! Thihis is embarrassing!!”

“But we’re the only ones here! No one will know~ I promise I won’t tell!”

“Hahaha…! I said stop!!” Sara’s vision activated, zapping the oni and causing him to let go. “Ack- ow!! What are y-?!” She pinned him down before he could protest, glaring daggers into him before speaking up.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she scolded angrily, a piercing gaze that sent shivers down Itto’s spine.

“I-I was just playing! C-Calm down..!” He stuttered, fearing the intimidating expression on his girlfriend’s face. He’d seen it before, but not like this.

“I told you to stop! I hate being tickled!” She replied, feeling betrayed by his ignorance.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t know..! I- I was just-…!” Itto trailed off as he saw the pain in her eyes. He felt the guilt in his chest upon realizing what he’d done. “I-… I’m sorry…”

Sara sighed, noticing the regret in Itto’s expression. She could tell he didn’t mean any harm, but this wasn’t the first time his excitement had overstepped a boundary. Her grip on him loosened.

“Sara…” Itto spoke up, feeling worried by the silence. “I’m really sorry… I won’t ever do that again!” To his credit, he always took said boundaries very seriously after the fact. He’d always do everything in his power to not make the same mistake again…

After another moment of silence, Sara sighed and spoke up after her mind cleared. “Hm… fine. I’ll forgive you this time.” she said, choosing to trust Itto. She gave him a friendly smile and stroked his cheek. “R-Really…? You’re not mad?” He was surprised, not expecting to have been forgiven so easily.

“Well… I’m not *as* angry anymore, but… I can’t let you off the hook just yet.” Sara said, giving him a small glare. Itto needed to be taught a lesson, and she already knew how. He gulped nervously. “W-What do you mean…?” he asked.

“Hm… well~ I think someone here deserves a punishment for being so mean earlier.” Sara said, a playful look on her face, but a menacing look in her eyes. Itto was still clueless about her intentions though. “Huh…?” He seemed a little spooked.

Sara sighed affectionately, finding his confused expression adorable as always. “Oh, relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, you silly oni. I’m just gonna give you a taste of your own medicine.” she said with a mischievous expression, lightly stroking his cheek to help him feel safer. “W-Wait, what?” Itto was now nervous instead, understanding the threat.

“Let’s see how you like it!” Sara smirked and started tickling Itto, assuming it wouldn’t harm him since they had fun with it during their playfight.

“AAH! WAHAHAHAHAIT!!” Archons, those nails… The way they scribbled across his torso tickled him like crazy already!

“Oh? You’re ticklish, huh? Predictable.” She teased, despite knowing full well already.

“Shuhuhut ihihihit-!! Ahahahahahaha!!” He’d managed to calm his laughter a bit after the initial strike, realizing it wasn’t so bad.

“Well, that’s awfully rude, isn’t it?” She purposely targeted his weaker spots, tickling all around his midriff at a faster pace. “Is that really how you should speak to your girlfriend~?”

“EEK! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!!” Itto threw his head back and laughed loudly, kicking his legs against the bed.

“Tickle tickle tickle~” Ah, who knew vengance was so much fun? The way Itto laughed, the way he squirmed, the way he smiled and blushed so much; it was all so precious and adorable to Sara. But, after a little more of this so-called torture, she showed mercy and stopped tickling the oni.

“See what I mean? It’s not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” She questioned, hoping to have taught him a valuable lesson.

“Ahahehe… hehe… I- heheh..! It is~, a-actually..!” Itto admitted, still smiling at Sara as he caught his breath.

“… what?” Certainly not the response she expected, but she wasn’t too surprised.

Itto blushed, feeling a little embarrassed to have admitted such a thing. “Eheh… I- uh…”

“You like getting tickled?” Of course, Sara was expecting him to be silly enough for this…

“Aha, y-yeah..! I kinda thought you did too, for some reason…” It was all making sense now. “I just… I thought it’d be fun! Y’know? I thought we could, like… bond or something, ‘n’ have fun like that, but…” Itto felt a bit embarrassed with his own logic, even though his intentions were harmless. He facepalmed before saying “Ah, I should’ve known better! I should’ve asked first at least, I-… I’m really really sorry…” He felt so stupid for not considering Sara’s feelings. What if she was still mad? What if she felt violated? What if she-?

“Itto…”

“Y-Yeah..?” His anxiety was through the roof until she spoke again, her hand on his cheek for comfort.

“It’s… it’s fine, I forgive you. Just promise me to not do it again, okay? I… I know you didn’t mean any harm.” She understood his intentions. He didn’t tickle her for his own amusement, he did it for her thinking she’d have fun. Of course it didn’t excuse his actions; it merely explained them.

“Besides, you already apologized earlier. I forgive you, okay?” Sara stroked his cheeks and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Itto sighed with relief. “Oh, dude, I was scared for a moment there…! Eheh… thanks for forgiving me.” he said, rubbing his eyes, totally not wiping any tears that spawned from his little emotional rollercoaster.

“Hehe, it’s alright, Itto. You silly oni…” Sara found him endearing regardless, ruffling his hair a little bit as she ran her fingers through it. Their love really was powerful.

“Heh…” Itto smiled, grateful for her comfort. “I- I won’t do it again… I swear on my life.” he said, his serious tone making Sara laugh.

After a moment of fond silence between the two, Sara spoke up with a teasing tone. “So… you like tickles, huh~?”

“Ahah- eh-… w-well, I mean-.. uh…! I never say I hated it…!” Itto stuttered nervously, blushing like a cherry from the topic alone. He knew what was coming…

“Mhm.” Sara noticed some restless movements from her boyfriend, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “You want some more? I’ve got plenty of tickles left just for you~…” she teased, wiggling her fingers at him.

“Jfhhdhd…! Don’t say it like that…!” Itto hid his face in his hands, dying of embarrassment.

“Yes or no, darling…?” Sara asked with a silly voice, thoroughly enjoying the exchange.

“… y-… yes…?” Itto replied shyly, nervously peeking at her from behind his hands. Sara felt like she’d been shot by Cupid’s arrow, seeing that adorably shy expression on the otherwise “tough” oni’s face. “Tch… you adorable dork. Hold still.”

“Wha- pff- Heheheh-! ACK- GWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Itto’s laughter returned the moment Sara started tickling him again, scribbling her tickly nails all over his ribs and sides. She thought to herself, is he actually enjoying this? It was hard to believe he’d be having fun, given how unpleasant tickling could be.

She observed his expression, noticing how happy he looked. She was one to notice little details like that… the way his face and his laughter were full of joy rather than discomfort… It was both confusing and adorable to witness. She loved him so much…

“Hm~… are you alright, darling?” Sara paused her tickles to admire his flushed smile and let him catch his breath.

“Eheh… heh… huff… m-man..! Why’d you stop..?” Itto asked shyly, looking all cute and silly. Sara’s heart melted in an instant. She didn’t say anything before tickling him more, making him laugh a lot again.

“Ugh… you’re too damn cute!” She growled, having cute aggression upon him and tickling his neck.

“Pfft~!! Ehehehee~! I’m nohohohot!” Itto protested through his giggles, playfully pushing her hands away.

“You are~! Gosh I could just squish you to death~” Sara teased, pausing to kiss his cheeks before squeezing his sides rapidly.

“ACK-!! Ahahahahahahaha!! Shuhut uhuhuhuhup!!”

“Oh? Watch your tone, mister!” Sara scolded, tickling him all over his midriff again, since that whole area made him laugh more.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Itto was having so much fun, getting tickled silly by the love of his life. It was a dream he didn’t know he had coming true, and he was having the time of his life.

“Say you’re sorry!” Sara demanded playfully. It felt nice to have power over him…

“PFFT~ NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Itto shook his head, refusing to give up, but Sara stopped anyway to give him a break.

“Oh? You sure you wanna keep that attitude~?”

“Aheh… hah..! Heheh…! Whuh…?” Itto froze, eyes widening as Sara’s free hand held one of her own feathers. It must’ve fallen from her wings during their little tussle earlier. “W-Wait a sec-..! D-Don’t you dare!” he squirmed nervously, giggling as her hand inched closer. She had yet to get off of him though, so he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Say you’re sorry~” Sara teased, using the feather to target his ears, making him swear and giggle his head off. “Shihihihihit!!”

“Watch your language~” Sara teased, tickling under his chin with her other hand to tease him, switching from ear to ear with the feather.

“SHUT UP!! Pfft~ hehehehe-! Fuhuhuhahahahack!! Nahahat the ears~!!” He wasn’t expecting to be so sensitive to that damn thing. It tickled worse than anything he’d ever felt! …well, not really, probably. It was hard to tell.

“Tickle tickle tickle~ Say you’re sorry~” Sara teased in that dreadful sing-song voice, switching to tickle both of his ears at the same time, the mixed sensation driving him crazy.

“EEK!! N-Hahahahahahaha!! STAAHP!! I’m sohohorrehehEHEHEE!!” Itto squealed, reaching his limit at this point.

“Yeah, you better be!” Sara responded, her tickles slowing down and coming to a stop, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“Ahaha.. hehehe…! *hic* hahahaha..! N-No more…!” Itto stuttered, giddy with giggles as he slowly calmed down.

Sara sighed fondly, stroking the oni’s hair. “Oh, Itto… what am I going to do with you…?” She was so in love… he looked beautiful like this, all red and silly…

“Eheh… heh… *hic*…”

“Awh… you okay, baby? I’m sorry if I went too far…”

“Hehe~… I’m-… I’m okay…!” Itto managed to catch his breath fully after a while, letting himself relax knowing the game was done.

“Hm.. you look tired. Why don’t we call it quits here and take a nap?” Sara suggested, cupping Itto’s face in her hands.

“Heh~… I’d like that… you owe me a kiss though…”

“A kiss? Hm… I can do better.” Sara teased, tender love in her smile as she leaned down to kiss Itto, planting gentle and loving smooches all over his face.

“Mmf~ hehehe! Hey~!” Itto protested half-heartedly, giggling softly as he felt flustered.

“Hush, pretty boy. Your face is my canvas~” Sara teased, kissing him some more.

“Hehehe! No it’s not~!” Itto giggled as he was kissed silly, half-heartedly complaining even though he loved the attention.

“It is~ You adorable dork!” Sara gently squished his face with her hands in the name of cute aggression before her touch became gentler. As she admired his lipstick covered face, she couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Staahp…! It’s not funny~” Itto protested, giggling along with her laughter.

“Hahahaha~! Oh, you’re the cutest thing ever…” She chuckled, thinking to herself: “Gods, I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that a year ago. Time really flies.”

“You’re so mean! Heheh…!” Itto protested.

“Haha~ oh come on…” Sara rolled her eyes before she lightly moved off of Itto, reaching into her bedside table for a wet wipe. She kept a few there just in case. “Let me clean that off. Your face is a mess~” she teased, smiling at him.

“H-Heh… go ahead, princess~” Itto teased lightly, absolutely smitten by her. She gently held his chin, guiding him to tilt his head in certain ways as she wiped the kisses away. Lipstick, as the name suggests, goes on the lips, not the face like that. It’s not like such a small layer would do any harm of course, but… it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

The tender love and care didn’t stop there, though. After she was done wiping his face clean and tossing away the trash, the two switched their positions to get comfier in the bed, snuggling up to one another. Sara’s nails traced gently across Itto’s back, soothing him to sleep. The result wasn’t entirely intended, but he did need the rest regardless.

She’d totally wake him up with that feather later. Just… on his back instead so that he wouldn’t die.

[ourtearsofrain]

Feel Good (D.R.W)

Summary: You help your boyfriend release some energy after a long day.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count:  3.2k

Warnings: cussing, smut (18+ minors DNI), oral (M receiving), M!sub 

A/N: Could not get the image of Danny looking like this as you suck him off out of my head so I had to write something. Also, please read the smut psa section in my masterlist post!

As your boyfriend smashed out his last drum solo of the night on the stage far in front of you, signaling the end of Highway Tune, lights began flashing as his brothers added to the cacophony of sound by playing random notes on their bass and guitar, the crowd erupting into a roar of cheers. With one final “Thank you everyone, and goodnight!” from Josh, the lights cut from a fiery red to a deep blue, and the four men waved their goodbyes as they set their instruments down and walked off stage. As soon as the stage was clear, the arena’s overhead lights came flickering back on, basking the crowd in bright white light as people shuffled their way towards the exits. You held back, figuring you were in no rush and the security would give you less trouble as you made your way backstage after the swarms of dedicated fans asking for copies of the set list had died down.

After 10 minutes, you figured enough people had left and began your decent to the floor, beginning to regret your decision to sit in the nosebleeds directly across from the stage as you attempted to step around the pools of spilled beer splashed across the stairs. Danny had offered you a spot at barricade, front and center directly in front of him, or off to the side of the stage in the wing, but you had declined both offers. You didn’t want to spend not only the entire opening act as well as the show, but also an hour before the show started, cramped in between screaming fans that had camped out the night before to get those spots, or chance being in people’s videos and pictures as you watched from the wing.

You made your way across the arena floor towards the barricade and show your backstage pass to a security guard standing by the gate; he takes it and lets you pass after thoroughly examining it for longer than you thought necessary. You make your way through the twists and turns of the corridors, attempting to remember where the dressing rooms were, eventually giving up and asking a stagehand to point you in the right direction. After thanking her profusely, you make your way towards where you hoped she had said they were.

Too lost in thought attempting to remember the exact instructions given to you, you suddenly run head first into Sam as he exits his dressing room in a hurry. “Shit, I am so sorry.” He starts, not realizing who he ran into. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Wow don’t sound excited or anything, good to see you too Sammy. Great show tonight.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound disappointed that its you or anything.” Pressing his fingertips into his forehead firmly, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Opening them again he continues, “And thanks, although your boyfriend seems to think otherwise. He’s being a real piece of work right now so just tread lightly. You looking for him?”

“Yeah, I am actually. Could you point me in the right direction? I cant seem to find my way around this place at all tonight. And wait, what do you mean? What’s wrong with Danny?”

“I think he tried a new brand of drumsticks for tonight’s show and they kept breaking, something about them being ‘Cheap pieces of shit’. I don’t know, he was pretty fed up after his third pair snapped at the very end of Highway Tune.” He begins walking away from you backwards, towards where you thought the performer’s entrance must be. “Anyways, I’m too tired right now to try and talk to him more so, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, he’s your problem now. His dressing room is 2 doors back, good luck.”

You throw a weak smile in his direction as he continues backpedaling. “Thanks Sammy, goodnight.”

“Night kid.” And with that, he turns around and disappears down the corridor.

Walking over to the door Sam had said belonged to Danny, you take a deep breath, attempting to release all the tension from your body before bringing your fist up to the wood and knocking three times. “Who is it?” You hear your boyfriend’s voice snap, although muffled by the barrier between the two of you you noticed he sounded strained and angry.

“Just me love, can I come in?” You ask softly, hoping your calm responses and tone will help deescalate your boyfriend’s mood, or at least not further frustrate him.

“It’s unlocked.” He replies, and you try the handle, slowly opening the door to find Danny standing in front of the dressing room’s vanity, still shirtless after the show and bent at the waist to look in the mirror, aggressively scrubbing at his eyes with a makeup wipe.

“Hey hey hey love slow down, you’re going to rub your skin raw.” You say as you close the door behind yourself and briskly make your way over to him, grabbing his hand to stop his attack at the smudged makeup surrounding his eyes. “Let me help you, sit down please.” As he follows your instructions, taking a seat in a chair closest to the vanity, you grab a new wipe, leaning down and cupping the side of his face with one hand as you begin to gently take his ruined eyeshadow off.

Closing both of his eyes, he lets out a long sigh, and you can see his body relax under your touch. After a few quiet minutes, he says, “Thank you.”, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, love." You discard the used wipe and grab a new one to begin on the other eye. "I ran into Sam in the hall, he told me about the drumsticks. I’m sorry they were frustrating tonight, is there anything else bothering you, or was it just that?”

He takes a sharp breath in, irritation painting his features as he recalls the events of that day. “It was that and its just been a long day. The twins have been bickering all day over the smallest things, and I think Sam has been instigating for entertainment. Either that, or he can’t read a fucking room. I’m running on like 5 hours of interrupted sleep, so I guess I have been more easily agitated. Like I said, it’s just been a long, frustrating day.” He opens his eyes after you finish wiping the last of his makeup off, tossing the stained wipe into a nearby trash can and taking a seat in his lap, straddling him. You place your hands on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze as he brings his hands up to your hips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain about everything today. Really, I’m alright now.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind listening, and I appreciate you telling me what’s bothering you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He sighs, letting his forehead fall forward to your shoulder. “No, I don’t think so. Venting helped, like I said I’m alright now. Just want to get back to the hotel and take a hot shower.”

You move one hand to the back of his head, and begin lightly smoothing your hand over his hair, playing with some of his curls. “Alright, then let’s get your things and head back to the hotel. You can take a nice hot shower, and then we can curl up together and pass out. How does that sound love?”

“M’not tired.” He mumbles into your shoulder. Pulling away, he looks at you with a slightly defeated expression. “You’d think I would be after getting shitty sleep and having a long day but, as much as I want to, I don’t know if I would be able to sleep any time soon. I don’t know, I feel like I still have so much pent-up energy left over, I need to do something to get it out.”

As you look down at your boyfriend beneath you, you remember how you felt tonight whenever the screens on either side of the stage showed him; how the light caught his sweat-soaked skin, how his arms looked as he played, how his tongue poked out from behind his teeth whenever he was caught up in the music, and how he threw his head back, mouth open as if an unheard moan was escaping him, as he pounded out the finale. A mischievous smile crosses your face as you bring your hand at the back of his head back down to his shoulder and continuing its decent, joined by your other hand as you slowly run them down his pecs and out to his sides. They come to a stop on his hips, just above his belt. You lean forward until your lips are centimeters away from his. “I think I know how we can fix that.” you whisper, lips brushing his.

“Oh? And what-“ he starts, before you cut him off with a searing kiss. As the kiss becomes more desperate, his hands grip your hips and you grind your hips down onto him, causing his mouth to fall open slightly as he lets out a quiet moan. You draw back, letting your eyes roam over him, from his flushed cheeks and blown out pupils, down his chest, and eventually landing on the area of his metallic pants just below his belt buckle that's becoming more and more strained by the second. You bring your gaze back up to meet his, as he looks at you with a needy want painted across his face.

He clears his throat, attempting to clear his head as well. “How about we… uh how about we head back to the hotel now and… and continue this there?” he breathily stutters out.

You lean forward once more, catching his lips with your own quickly. Keeping your face mere inches from his own, you reply, “Sounds like a plan.”, voice laced with desire. You stand up and begin collecting his belongings scattered around the room, finding a sweater and tossing it towards him, still seated in the chair. “Well?” you ask expectantly, “Are we leaving or not?”

He zones back in, having been lost in his thoughts of what you could possibly have in store for him, and frantically pulls the sweater on, getting up from the chair and making his way to the door with you by his side. “You sure you don’t want to change into sweats or something?” you question, letting out a small laugh of amusement from how eager he was to leave the arena.

“Nope, I’m alright.” He insists, despite his failed attempt at discreetly loosening his pants by pulling down on the fabric at his crotch.

“Alright,” you shrug, “Your choice.” He holds the door open for you and as you pass him you lean in, whispering, “Doesn’t matter much anyways; they’ll be coming off sooner or later.”, continuing out the door and towards the hallway you had seen Sam go down earlier.

“You coming love?” Looking back you see Danny still standing in the doorway, face flushed and lips slightly parted. He snaps his attention back to you and nearly slams the door, quickly making his way to your side, slotting his hand into yours as you exit the arena.

-

The second the door to your room closed and both of your shoes are kicked to the side, your hands are planted firmly on his chest, shoving him against the nearest wall. He lets out a surprised gasp before you connect your lips with his, one of his hands coming up to tangle in your hair and the other on your lower back, pressing you flush against his front. You playfully bite down on his lower lip and feel his hardening dick twitch as he lets out a groan. Your hands roam downwards to the hem of his sweater, and your lips leave his long enough for you to pull it off his arms and over his head. He replaces his hands on you as you begin nipping at the sensitive skin on his neck, eliciting a soft sigh as Danny leans his head back until it hits the wall behind him.

You start to trail your lips down his neck, over his collarbone, between his pecs, and down the center of his abdomen, stopping yourself on your knees at the base of his happy trail, just above where he needs you most. With his chest already rising and falling rapidly with shallow anticipatory breaths, you slowly run your hand from where it rested just above his knee upwards along the top of his thigh. It comes to a stop on his dick, and you run your hand back and forth over it, squeezing gently. His moan is followed by a breathy “Please...”. You stand and bring your lips to the shell of his ear, relishing in his small shiver from your breath on his skin.

“Please what?”

“You…” he pants, “You know what. Stop teasing.” You turn away from him, beginning to walk across the room, leaving him whining at the loss of contact. He grabs your wrist, stopping you about a foot away from the bottom of the bed. “No, wait!” he sighs. “Please… please make me feel good, love.”

You turn, giving him a wolfish grin. “Now, was that so hard?” Pulling him towards you, you turn the two of you and lightly push him towards the bed, causing the back of his knees to hit the base of it. You move your hand to his cheek, holding the sharp edge of his jaw and bring his face towards yours, keeping your eyes locked on his blown-out pupils. “Don’t worry baby, I’m going to make you feel so good.” you whisper before shoving him backwards onto the bed.

He lands on his back and slowly moves up until his head is resting against the headboard as he’s propped up on his elbows, one leg bent at the knee. You gradually make your way up the bed on your hands and knees, coming to a stop between his legs as you begin another attack on his lower abdomen, lightly sinking your teeth into the soft flesh there before soothing the sting with soft kisses. His fists grip the sheets as you pull your mouth away and leisurely undo his belt buckle, undoing the button of his pants and drawing the zipper down. You maintain eye contact with him as your hands find his waistband and hook your fingers under the hem of both his boxers and pants, taking your time pulling them down his legs as his cock springs free of its constraints. Once free of his clothes, you grip his thigh with one hand and take him in your hand with the other, causing him to gasp at the contact. You look him in the eyes as you lick a stripe up the underside of him from base to tip, swirling your tongue over his already leaking head. You finally wrap your lips around him, sinking down and taking him all the way despite your gag reflex screaming at you to stop.

“Oh my fucking god.” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall back. You pull yourself off him completely, causing him to open his eyes in surprise and groan in protest.

“I want your eyes on me until you’re cumming down my throat, got it? You’re not getting shit if I don’t see you watching how good I’m taking you.” You wait for a response, cocking an eyebrow when you don’t get one. “I said, got it?”

“Yes. I got it, I won’t look away I promise. Please keep going.” His whine turns into a loud moan as you sink back down onto him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You bring your head back up, your hand pumping his base as you hollow your lips around his head, bobbing up and down. He struggles to keep his eyes on you, but keeps his promise as you continue fervently sucking him off, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets below him. “Fuck baby, that feels so good.” he gasps as you let out a hum of satisfaction. “Just like that, oh fuck I’m so close.”

You moan at his words, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he screws his eyes shut, his back arching off the bed as his head loudly hits the headboard and he lets out a string of moans and curse words, and you feel his hot release coat the back of your throat. His arms give out and he collapses fully onto his back, panting heavily as you pull off of him, cleaning any remaining cum off him with your tongue.

You move up the bed until you are laying on your side next to him and gently brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, cradling his cheek with your hand and turning his face towards yours as you place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “How about we go take a shower and get you better cleaned up, love?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you in blissed-out confusion. “What about you? You took care of me, now it’s your turn to feel good.” he half-whines.

“Tonight was about making you feel good, baby. You’ve had a long day, you need rest. We can cuddle up and fall asleep right after we shower; I’ll be alright tonight, I promise I don’t need anything right now.”

“Fine…” he grumbles. “But I’m gonna repay the favor sometime soon.”

You laugh, “Sounds like a deal.”, gently kissing him before getting off the bed and pulling him to the edge, leaving him sitting there as you strip your own clothes off. Once undressed, he wraps his arms around your abdomen, pulling you in between his legs as he peppers your stomach with soft kisses. You let him, placing your hands in his hair and playing with his curls for a few moments. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s go.” you say as you grab his hands and unwrap him from yourself before tugging him to a stand. You let go of one hand as you make your way towards the bathroom, pulling him along behind you.

You shower in comfortable silence, finally finishing 30 minutes later after frequently interrupting your routines with short, lazy make-out sessions. You dry off and change into your PJ’s, him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, and you in light shorts and one of his T shirts, and complete your nighttime routines side by side. Once finished, Danny crawls into the bed, holding the sheet up for you as you crawl in next to him. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his chest in a bear hug and you bring your hands up to rest on his chest, forehead against his collarbone as you tangle your legs together.

You’re the first to break the silence; “Love you.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as your breath fans across his chest.

The last thing you hear before drifting off into a warm, deep sleep is his sleepy response of, “Love you too.”

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[divine-knight-hand]

Imagine Looking for Wanda at a Halloween Party

Wanda Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3 Halloween Triple Feature 2023 Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Some confrontational situations and traces of angst. After that, fluffiness all the way!

Word Count: 2,874

Dividers by @chaosofevil

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our friend, the... pumpkin?" Tony raised a curious eyebrow at my choice of costume.

I wore a round and wide orange top with orange pants and black boots. My cheeks and nose were painted with an orange blush, and a green felt stem sat atop my head with the help of an equally green headband.

"Couldn't even spring for a Jack-o-lantern?” Tony fought off a smile. “You're just a pumpkin?"

"What?" I rolled my eyes. "I had to embrace my inner... pumpkin. Look, at least I didn't show up as myself." I motioned toward Tony's suit.

He came to his own Halloween party as Iron Man. How original.

This year, Tony was holding a Halloween party in the lobby of the tower. Everyone showed up in costume for the festivities. There was fun dance music playing, and spooky decorations all around the room. I wondered how Pepper and Tony managed to fill the room with streamers, cobwebs, plastic spiders, and other seasonal elements overnight.

"Hey, kiddo!" Natasha approached us, waving four of her arms.

She wore a black suit with a red hourglass symbol on her chest. Each side of her suit had four arms hanging off of it, which dramatically swayed with every move she made.

I tried, and failed, to figure out which of her eight arms were real. "Hey, Nat! You're a black widow? That's clever."

"Oh, so it's okay if she comes as herself?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"You're wearing uniform." I retorted. "She's wearing a pun."

Tony playfully scoffed and waved his hand. “Fine. Be that way.”

"By the way,” I changed the topic of conversation. “Have you guys seen Wanda? Did she show, yet?"

"No, I haven't seen your girlfriend." Tony grabbed a glass of champagne off of a butler’s tray as they walked by.

"Me neither." Natasha added. ���Sorry, kiddo.”

"Oh, ok." I sighed before Tony’s comment registered to me. "Wait- She's not my girlfriend!" I felt warmth creep into my face. "She's just my best friend."

"That's how it starts." Tony winked as he took a sip of his drink. "That's how it always starts."

I playfully smacked his shoulder, shaking off the resulting pain after the audible contact I made with his suit. "All right, Stark. I'm going to look for her."

“Good luck!” Natasha nodded in my direction. “I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

“Thanks.” I flashed her a small smile before turning to walk away.

"Enjoy the party!" Tony called after me. "And make sure to drink some punch. It's good punch!"

I rolled my eyes, positive that the “punch” had traces of alcohol, but went to the snack table to pour myself some anyway. The glass bowl on the table was full of blood-red liquid, and I used the ladle inside to pour some into a red plastic cup. Once I was satisfied, I stepped to the side, walking right into a large figure next to me.

"Oh! Sorry." I turned to see Thor.

He was a very buff Pop-Tart, though the muscles were courtesy of his physique, rather than the costume shop.

"Hey, Thor!” I softly chuckled at the comical sight in front of me. “I love your costume."

"Thank you!" Thor grinned. "You look wonderful, as well. It would seem we both arrived as our favorite foods."

"Yeah, I guess we did.” I returned his smile showing less teeth. “Hey, have you seen Wanda anywhere?"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen her." Thor frowned. "Have you tried asking Stark?"

"Yeah." I sighed. "Well, thanks anyway, Thor. Enjoy the party."

"You too!" Thor waved before I walked away, sipping on my definitely alcoholic punch.

I dodged dancers, sidestepped those in conversation, and passed groups of people that overall made me wonder how many of Tony’s friends were real, and how many only showed up to the party in search of some of his wealth and fame.

It was then that I found Clint talking to Bruce on the other side of the room. Clint had come dressed as a vampire, while Bruce was decorated in a skeleton costume.

I approached them with a smile. "Hey, guys! How are you?"

"Hi!" Bruce made a small wave at me. "We're doing fine."

"Yeah," Clint added. "We were just wondering how many friends Tony has here. Real friends, not associates or sponsors or random rich people."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I was just thinking that, too!"

Bruce sheepishly smiled. "I guess great minds think alike."

"I hate to cut our meet-up short," I went on, "But, have either of you seen Wanda?"

Clint thought for a moment. "I thought I saw her on the other side of the room." He motioned across the room with one hand.

"Yeah," Bruce added. "She was talking to Thor's brother, wasn't she?"

"Ugh." I would have facepalmed had I not been worried about messing up my makeup. "Why the hell would Tony invite Loki?"

"Sour much?" Clint smirked at my resulting scowl. "He's here by Thor's request, and on the promise to not cause any mischief."

“As if he would actually hold to that standard. ” I rolled my eyes. "Do you think she's still over there?"

Clint shrugged. "Not sure."

"I hope you find her." Bruce bashfully scratched the back of his neck.

"Thanks." I started to walk away. "You guys enjoy the party."

I took a deep breath before heading towards the one corner of the room I had yet to explore. The crowd noticeably thinned as I neared the wall.

"What vivid colors for a plain character such as yourself." I rolled my eyes as the familiar voice purred.

I turned to him, only to be met with a black, green, and gold Asgardian tunic, topped with a wicked smirk. So much for being subtle.

“Loki!” I forced a smile. "You came dressed as a witch. A little cliché of a costume, don't you think?"

Loki's cocky smirk dipped for an instant before lifting back up. "Not everyone has original ideas such as your seasonal gourd."

"Actually, a pumpkin is a fruit." I proudly grinned. "I'm sure an intelligent man such as yourself can tell the difference between a fruit and a gourd." I mentally high-fived myself for having researched random pumpkin facts last night to really get into character.

Loki scowled. "Of course I can tell the difference! You simply don't wear food items well. That’s all."

"And you don't wear anger very well, princess." I teased. "So, I heard you were talking to Wanda earlier. Is that right?"

"Yes," Loki's smirk returned, paired with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just as I've heard that you've been looking for her all night. Correct?"

"Well, yeah." A sour feeling settled into my stomach—the same one I usually got right before Loki would screw me over. "Can you point me in the direction she went?"

"Well, I could," Loki nonchalantly examined his perfectly manicured nails. "But I might not."

The frustration that had been building up inside me started to slowly seep out. "Loki, I swear-"

"Ah-ah-ah..." Loki held up his pointer finger to silence me. "You wouldn't want to make a scene at Stark's perfect party, would you?"

I stopped to think for a moment. Tony was an annoying person, but that annoying person also happened to be my friend, and I didn’t want to do anything to hurt him if I could help it.

I tried to quell the fire in my stomach. "I guess not."

Loki slowly approached me as his smirk widened into a sadistic grin. "I suppose I could point you in the direction of your lost friend... if you agreed to assist me with a small request."

"No." I scowled. "I'll just find her myself."

I turned to storm off when Loki grabbed my upper arm and spun me around, yanking me toward him. “Let’s not be too hasty, now, pet.”

“I’m not your pet.” I growled through clenched teeth. “Let. Me. Go. NOW!”

I grew a little embarrassed as a few partygoers turned to look at us, but I didn’t back down from my stance.

“What happened to not making a scene?” He muttered as he reluctantly released my arm.

“Trust me.” I started. "You’d know if I caused a scene. And, if you think, even for a second, that I'm going to let you use me for whatever trick or plot you want me to do, you’re sorely mistaken."

“Is that so?” Loki’s expression grew dark. “Then I suppose you care not to find your little friend.”

“You’re worse than useless!” I was practically bursting at the seams. “Nobody can stand you, you know that? Your games only ever hurt people. So, yeah, I’ll take the risk finding Wanda myself, since the last person who played into your tricks and mind games wound up dead.” I resisted the urge to clap a hand over my mouth. I definitely took that way too far…

Loki scowled, but his eyes were clearly filled with hurt. “You know not what you speak of, Midgardian."

"Just stay away from me." I turned to walk away.

I only made it a few paces before I heard Loki's voice call from behind me. "Your friend is outside. She left in need of fresh air after we exchanged words."

I turned back in time to see Loki's backside as he walked away. I debated just following his instructions to where Wanda was, but I knew I couldn’t after pressing his wounds like I did. Instead, I rushed after him.

"Loki?" I softly called when I finally caught up to him. When he didn’t respond, I tried calling louder. "Loki?"

"I can hear you, mortal." He faced me with a dark expression. "I just wish I couldn't."

“That's fair.” I sighed. “I just couldn’t leave without apologizing for disrespecting you. I really crossed a line back there. I’m sorry."

An expression of shock crossed Loki's face, followed by a flash of sadness, before he began to seem unbothered. "I… appreciate your apology. I suppose I should return the sentiment. Though I do tend to derive pleasure whenever your face makes that scrunched-up scowl as the result of your vexation, it may not be the most... ethical method of entertaining myself."

"And bringing out your baggage might not have been the best way to handle it." I held my hand out to him. "Truce?"

Loki skeptically raised an eyebrow at me before taking my hand in his. "Very well. No more… pranks... at least for the time being."

I smirked. "Watch it, Odinson. I might pump-kick your butt if you go back on our truce."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Oh, the puns from you, girl."

I laughed and started making my way toward the door. "Enjoy the party, Loki."

"You, as well." He called after me.

I began weaving through the crowd to get to the door. I finally made it and pushed the door open with a sudden urgency. I had a feeling that I needed to find Wanda as soon as possible.

There were more rich people outside who didn’t even bother dressing up for Tony’s Halloween party. As they let the outside air fill with their dry, ingenuine laughter, I pushed through crowds of them, earning myself dirty looks from people who had higher net worths than me.

But, that didn’t matter. I had to find Wanda.

”Wanda?!” I called, “Wanda?! Where are you?”

I shoved through more people in suits and costumes as I frantically scanned the area for red hair, ignoring the rude comments from people around me. As I made my way farther from the tower, the crowd began thinning.

Suddenly, a small voice called my name loud enough for me to just barely hear it.

I turned to the source of the sound to see Wanda, hiding away from the partygoers with an anxious expression. “Wanda!”

She wore a bright red bodysuit with a headdress and cape that sported similar crimson hues. I wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be dressed as, but she was gorgeous.

I noticed her visibly shaking as I ran up to her. “Wanda? What happened? Did Loki do something to you?” I already felt the urge to go back on our earlier truce creeping in. “Because, I swear, I’m gonna-”

”No!” Wanda cut off my threat, which was lucky for me, since I had no idea how to effectively threaten a literal demigod. “Loki did nothing wrong, I promise.”

My rage quickly shifted to guilt for getting so easily distracted. Focus on Wanda, damnit!

I placed my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong, then? Are you alright?”

She sighed, looking at me with watery eyes. “I’m scared… I’m terrified.” She sniffled. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Wanda,” I frowned, trying not to picture the pathetic image of a ghoulish pumpkin trying to console a weeping… whatever Wanda was dressed as. “Whatever you’re afraid of, you can talk to me. I promise, I can help you get through it.”

Wanda sniffled again and ran a delicate gloved hand across her face to catch runaway tears. “It’s just… All night, I’ve been hiding. I’ve been… secretive. I want to tell the one person who should know, but I’m afraid.” She shuddered. “And I thought, If I never tell them, I’ll exist in this limbo forever. But if I do…”

“They might not respond in the way that you want?” I breathlessly asked. Wanda wordlessly nodded.

It was in that moment that I took her in with my eyes. She truly was gorgeous. Her wide brown eyes. Her soft pink lips. The way her headdress framed her round face. The way her costume conformed to the curves of her body. She was gorgeous.

I didn’t lie to Tony earlier. Wanda wasn’t my girlfriend…

…But it didn’t change the fact that I wished she was.

It was true that I was infatuated by Wanda’s beauty, but I was also in love with her mind and personality, so seeing her this upset crushed me.

”Wanda,” I breathed. “It hurts me to see you this way. There’s only one word of advice I can give you: Stay strong. No matter how it turns out, just tell them what you need to tell them. No matter what, I’ll be here for you. And if they’re a good person, they’ll be good to you, too.”

Wanda gulped, “I can’t do that…”

”Yes, you can.” I urged. “I know you can. You can do anything.”

Wanda sniffled. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

My blood ran cold. “I’m the person you’re trying to tell something to?” She wordlessly nodded once again. “Wanda,” I nervously chuckled. “You can tell me anything.”

She looked like she wanted to say what she was dying to say, but shook her head. “I’m not as brave as you.”

”Maybe I’m not brave, either.” I spoke without thinking. Wanda cocked her head in confusion and I just continued before I could hesitate. “You can’t idolize my bravery if I wasn’t brave enough to reveal my own secret to you.” I grabbed her hands and took a deep breath. “Wanda Maximoff…” There was an expectant glint of what seemed to be hope in her eyes when I paused. “I love you. I love you so much, and I-“

Before I could finish my declaration, Wanda cut me off with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around my neck and shoved her tongue in my mouth. I greedily took it in my own as I moved my hands along her waist to the small of her back, one hand reaching up to her hair. I dreamt about a moment like this for so long, and I wanted this to last forever, but Wanda and I eventually had to break for air.

We were both still gasping when Wanda breathed. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

I smirked and opened my arms. “Then come here and pump-kiss me again.” We both visibly cringed at my horrible pumpkin pun before bursting into laughter.

“That was really bad.” Wanda giggled.

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” I smirked. “You’re going to be hearing those for the rest of the night.”

Wanda warmly smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.” She wrapped her arm around my waist. “I can’t wait to party with my new gourd-friend.” She winked.

I laughed at her pun, too content to correct her with the fact that a pumpkin was a fruit, not a gourd. Speaking of corrections…

“Hey, Wanda,” I began. “Can I ask you a question?” She nodded. “What’s your costume?”

“Oh!” She seemed to come alive with a newfound excitement. “This old thing?” She let my waist go to twirl in a circle and toss her cape with a flourish. “I’m dressed as a Sokovian fortune teller!”

“I love it!” I grinned, holding my arm out to her. “So, what’s in store for me and my new lover?”

She giggled as she locked my arm in hers. “Our future is yet to be determined, detka, but it’s looking bright.”

She leaned in to give me a peck on the lips before we made our way back to the party.

[the-himawari]

A3! Usui Masumi - Translation [SSR] Letter Destination (2/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Tsuzuru: I’m home. Masumi, it’s about time for dinner—. Woah, what’s all this!? (Scrap paper is scattered all over the room…)

Masumi: Zzz…

Tsuzuru: (Masumi’s sleeping face down on his desk…) (…*Sigh*. He’s up to something again, isn’t he? At any rate, it’s probably about Director.) (Anyways, I guess I’ll pick up the trash…) (Hm? Something’s written here…) “When I see your smile, my heart,” (This must be… a tossed out love letter draft to Director. So that means, these are also…) “Your smile is the cutest in the world. My heart is always filled with joy” “Izumi-san’s smile is as beautiful as a flower. My heart is blessed” (That’s a lot of trial and error… or rather, it looks like he’s getting off track.) (…Ah well. I suppose I’ll let him sleep a little longer. I’ll drape a blanket over him so he doesn’t catch a cold—)

Masumi: Mm…

Tsuzuru: Sorry, did I wake you up?

Masumi: …I was still in the middle of something, so that actually did me a favour.

Tsuzuru: What’s up with this mountain of tossed out pages?

Masumi: …I wanted to write a fan letter.

Tsuzuru: A fan letter?

Masumi: …Director had a huge smile on her face when she received a fan letter. Even though I had no idea whether the sender was a man or a woman, it still felt a bit frustrating seeing that. So I thought I’d write a fan letter to make her happy too. But my words wouldn’t come out very well.

Tsuzuru: I see… You’ve already sent letters to Director so many times though, haven’t you?

Masumi: …I have. I have, but… She’s never looked that happy… with the letters I’ve given her.

Tsuzuru: Aw, I’m sure that’s not true.

Masumi: Also, those were love letters. I just wrote how I felt myself. This time, I want to write a fan letter that’ll make Director happy. That being said, no matter what I do, my love for her overflows as I write and it turns into a love letter…

Tsuzuru: So that explains all the trial and error… (Fan letters and love letters are the same in that the point is to express your feelings towards the other person…) (I don't think there's any point in forcing yourself to suppress your true feelings…) (But no matter what I say, if it’s related to Director then he’s definitely going to keep at it until he’s satisfied.) …Well, good luck. I hope you’ll be able to write a fan letter that makes Director happy.

Masumi: …Thanks.

Tsuzuru: But have dinner first. And then get some proper sleep.

Masumi: …Okay.

-pause-

Masumi: (In the end, I couldn’t write a satisfactory letter… I even used up all my stationary so I have so buy some new ones.) (…That reminds me, I got a gift certificate from Madoka the other day.) (He mentioned it was a big store, so they might be selling stationary there.)

---

previous | next

[m1d-45]

Asking The Important Questions and Answering:

-you still alive everybuddy?

~Yes, yours truly is alive, a year older for some time now already and suffering BECAUSE I'M MOVING WITHIN 2024!

-freshest news?

~i became an uncle/aunt for the 8th time, his name is (blank) and i'm VIBRATING! He's so tiny! And blonde and has these BIG eyes i wanna squish them! We're giving the parents a bit of themselves time but gosh i wanna gush over the wittle baby in person and not over pictures!

Anyways, do the people of teyvat celebrate babies?

We're celebrating in a few weeks!

-🥘Stew

waves!!!

minor spoilers for sumeru + natlan AQ, i use natlano instead of “” natlanese “”

1) i am still alive!!! somehow!!! however comma,

i am in college now!!! holy shit!!! and it has been HELL on my schedule be so fucking fr- i’m taking online classes and with the adhd you can imagine how that’s going (hint : bad). i’ve also just had a bunch of trouble that has killed my motivation (lotta personal stuff blah blah) and i’ve been falling back to less taxing blurbs rather than anything actually post-able. also as such i just have Not had the energy to answer asks,, i read them all and i love you everyone who sends them but i don’t wanna reply with the equivalent of “i ain’t reading that but good for you. or sorry that happened.” yk?

2) congrats on the new relative!!!! baby kids are WILD and i wish them good health.

for me… well, i’m finally getting a hold on things, and i can feel that i have more energy again, which i’m really excited about!! i’ve had some ideas SLOW COOKING for MONTHS that im very excited to serve!!! not really news though, just a Development,,,

(​yes it took me like 2.5 months to get a grip on things. it’s the autism. shhhhh)

for actual news.. uh, i learned that there’s a 10$ fee for getting locked out of your dorm! uhhh i have the object permanence of a d6, how obvious is it

3) i think like.. remembering that teyvat still uses oil lamps, of course they’re happy about children!!! different nations show it in different ways, though.

mondstadt is a very “it takes a village” city, so celebrations focus on allowing the parent to recover and preparing for their new life. lotta time off work and pages of advice, you know?

if mond is the present, liyue is the future. lotta focus on practices for good health — that vary between families, ranging from calming teas for the parent to necklaces with herbs tucked in the pendant for the child.

inazuma is… inazuma. post-decree lifting, though, things somewhat go back to normal adjacent. like liyue, it’s about a prosperous future, but in non physical forms. intangible blessing and faith over physical jade beads, you know?

the forests of sumeru are run by the akedemiya. wisdom does not take breaks, and neither should you. one brief event close after the birth is enough — the closest to modern baby showers. gifts given, the clock strikes, and that’s about it.

the deserts, however, follow mondstadt’s lead, especially in places such as aaru village. children are very communal, and even those without biological children are often parental figures. health for the parent while the child is raised with the others, the best childcare this side of the chasm.

fontaine is extravagant. for some of the richer families, lady furina herself would come down and personally wish the child well. lotta impractical, flashy gifts given over a too many days. it’s a social event, for those around the new family just as much as it is the child themself.

natlan is also very aggressively communal. nobody fights alone, after all, no matter the shape of their battle. celebrations consist of the tribe giving practical gifts, anything from clothes and food to a promise to be there when needed. specific preferences switch between the tribes — the people of the springs someone give seashell necklaces for good luck, the scions of the canopy a set of soft gloves, suitable for new skin while also sturdy enough to climb ropes with. natlano treat the parent the best, i think.

snezhnaya is small, private. close family and friends only, whispered prayers and tight, worried hugs. the everwinter is not kind, so it is made up for with the embers of what was once a tight knit community. they cannot give what they once could, cannot sing and knit and give blankets with blessings woven into the fabric, but they do what they can. they huddle around the fire, hoping against hope.

[e-dubbc11]

Come Back to Me

Oh the appreciation I have for that gif, lord have mercy! 🥵 I’ll gladly lick those lips for him. Anyway….

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of a gun, knife to the readers throat, reader peeking at an application for employment (probably illegal but oh well)

Word Count: 1.8k-ish

A/N: Based off the prompt “Don’t listen to that voice in your head, listen to mine.” Sent in by my lovely Lisa @music-indie-tv thank you, love for sending in this ask, I just can’t seem to keep them at 1K (it’s really hard! 😂) thank you for following me and I’m sorry it’s taking me a little while to get through these, it’s harder than it sounds. I always appreciate you reading my fics for Mr. Russo and leaving comments, I hope you like it!

Billy sat behind his desk, file folders piled on either side of him, the purple circles under his eyes showed he hadn't slept much in the past week.

The folders contained all of the information for the new recruits, their applications for employment at ANVIL, and the results of their mental evaluations. This was a very busy time for Billy, it was a lot of information to go over in such a short amount of time.

On your way up to Billy’s office, you ran into Frank.

“Tread lightly, kid. Your boyfriend is in a MOOD!” Frank said.

You cracked a slight smile. “I live with him, Frank. Of course I know he’s in a mood.” A little laugh escaped your lips. “Is he really busy? I brought him a coffee.”

Frank smirked at your comment. “Yeah you may wanna give that to me, I can give it to him, sweetheart. I forgot he can be an absolute bear during new recruit time.”

Frank wasn’t wrong, Billy had been a little on edge lately. The past few nights he had taken work home with him and it was hard to get near him while he was working. He could be a real grouch but after being with Billy for awhile, you had learned how to deal with it.

“I brought him his favorite cookies too.” You said as you shook the bag.

Frank eyed the bag as you were shaking it. “You don’t happen to have an extra cookie in there for me, do ya?” He asked.

“You know I do.” You extended your arm and motioned for Frank to take one out of the bag.

“Well good luck, kid. You know where I am if you need back up.” He laughed a little as he took a bite of his cookie and walked back to his desk.

The door to Billy’s office was closed, most times he kept it open a crack but he must be really busy if it’s closed all the way so you knocked.

Billy’s voice boomed from the other side of the door. “Yeah, WHAT?! Frankie, I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Carefully, you peeked your head in and took in the sight of Billy with his hair slightly messed up, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his empty lunch containers at the far end of his desk.

“I come bearing gifts, handsome.” You held out the coffee and the bag of cookies in front of you.

Billy sat straight up in his chair, horrified at the way he just snapped at you. “Y/n! Shit, baby I am SO sorry, I didn’t mean to–I thought it was Frankie again. He keeps bugging me about the applicants that are in the conference room, it’s time to tell them who’s in and who’s out.”

It was always tough for Billy to let people go, sometimes they just weren’t the right fit or something about them didn’t sit right with him or Frank, or both. He only wanted the best working for him and he couldn’t have anyone on his team that could possibly jeopardize missions.

“Ok well I know you’re busy so I’ll just–” You walked over to Billy’s desk to set his coffee and cookies down. “I’ll just put these here and give you this…” You brushed his beard with your thumb and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the lips then tried to walk away but Billy grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you into his lap.

He stared at you like he hadn't actually looked at you in days, which was more accurate than you wanted to admit but Billy’s work was important to him and sometimes it was best if you just stayed away or didn’t say much while he was working.

Those files needed his full attention and it was important that he didn’t miss anything in someone’s evaluation that could be a potential liability.

He touched his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, his hands cupped your face as he opened his endless dark brown eyes and leaned forward to kiss you.

One of his hands dropped from your face to the back of your neck to hold you close, you felt like he never wanted to let you go. His tongue parted your lips, giving him access to your mouth and letting your tongue entangle with his, you didn’t want to let him go either.

“I’m sorry I’ve been working so much lately, sweet girl. It’s just–” Billy said.

You interrupted him. “Ssshhh ssshhh, Billy it’s ok, my love. It’s ok, really. I understand, I do.” You looked around at the folders on his desk, they were everywhere and you could tell that he probably needed a break. “Look, I know you and I know when you need a break, so why don’t you get up and go to the conference room and do what you and Frank need to do. Tell the fresh meat who goes and who stays.”

Billy smiled, his tired eyes looked at you, he knew you were right. “You’re right, baby. But there’s one person I’m still on the fence about. His service record is great, diagnosed with PTSD but is on medication to help with it. I can’t shake the fact that there’s something I’m missing though.”

You looked down at the file he had open. “Is it this one, Billy?” You pointed at the file.

Billy was rubbing the tired out of his eyes. “Yeah that’s the one…” He said as he let out a loud exhale.

“Well, this says he’s had four jobs in the past year. I’m no expert but I’d say that not being able to hold down a job might be a bit of a red flag, right? He may have an alcohol or drug problem.” You stated.

He squeezed your cheeks together and kissed you on the forehead. “That’s it, that’s what I missed, you shouldn’t be looking at that but that is a red flag. Ah, now comes the part of my job that I hate, I gotta tell this kid that ANVIL isn’t the place for him.”

“I’m sorry, handsome. That’s probably really hard for you.” You said as you scraped your fingernails against Billy’s scalp and kissed him on the cheek. “But if it’s not a good fit, it’s not a good fit. You know what you have to do.”

“Yeah you’re right, ok I better get up there before Frankie comes down here again, beatin’ down the door. You can come up if you want and watch from behind the double sided mirror.” Billy bit down on his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows at you, he wanted you to come watch him work. How could you say no?

You followed close behind as Billy walked towards the conference room full of potential new recruits, some would make the cut and some wouldn’t and you were a little excited about watching your boyfriend work.

The way Billy commanded that room full of people was mesmerizing and the emotion in his voice when he thanked them all for their service to their country was powerful and inspiring. But what made your heart soar was when he hung back to talk to the recruits that didn’t make the cut, you couldn’t hear what he was saying but it made you proud regardless.

One of them in particular, Billy walked out of the conference room with, his hand patting his shoulder, you heard words of encouragement coming from him. You guessed he must have been the one Billy was on the fence about, he was young, and he looked upset.

Billy offered to try and find him help if he needed it and maybe he could apply to ANVIL again once he held down a job for at least a year. You smiled at Billy and he smiled back, everything that happened after that smile was a complete blur.

All of a sudden there was a knife at your throat and your arm was pinned behind your back. The kid Billy had been talking to was now holding a blade to your neck, your heart was racing and he was trying to back out of the room slowly with you as his human shield while Billy had his gun aimed at him.

“Let her go, Max! Drop the knife and let her go.” Billy shouted.

Tears welled up in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks. “Billy?!”

“Shut up!” Max yelled in your ear. “You couldn’t give me a chance, huh Mr. Russo?!! All I wanted was a chance, this meant everything to me! Well now I’m going to take something that means everything to you!”

As he gripped your arm, Max’s knife pressed against your throat, you could tell it had cut you slightly, and a tiny amount of blood dripped down the front of your neck. Billy’s face full of rage, he knew he couldn’t get a clear shot at Max.

Frank had crept up behind Max but he was fully aware of his surroundings and that Frank was behind him but he did not see the pen that was on the floor. It caused him to lose his concentration as he stepped on it, allowing Frank to push you out of the way, knock the knife away from Max and pin him to the floor.

As quickly as he hit the floor, Billy was hovering over Max with his gun pointed directly at his forehead. “I oughta kill you right now, you held a knife to my girl’s throat.” Billy said through gritted teeth with his finger on the trigger.

“BILLY!! Stop!” You yelled at him. “Billy, listen to me!”

Even Frank tried to get through to Billy. “Don’t do it, Bill! Don’t…put it down.”

“Billy! Max needs help! You can get him the help he needs!” Your voice was ringing in his ears, trying to get through to him. “Billy, don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine! Billy, please put the gun down.”

Billy closed his eyes, lowered his weapon and walked away. His eyes were glassy, and he was breathing heavily as he pulled you into his chest. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding…” He tilted your chin up towards him to look closely at the cut on your neck.

“Shit, I’m so so sorry, y/n.” Billy looked like he wanted to punch something as he held his suit jacket against your throat to stop the bleeding. “He should be dead for what he did to you. I don’t know what I would have done if he had–” He couldn’t bring himself to finish his thought.

Calmness was always something Billy responded well to. “But he didn’t, my love. He didn’t. And you didn’t either.” You said softly. “You didn’t either.”

“I wanted to though. But your voice brought me back.” He said.

Through your tears, his words brought a smile to your face.

“I’ll always bring you back, Billy. Always.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

[thetriumphantpanda]

HELLO PANDA DARLING <33 Firstly, I'd like to give you a HUGE congratulations on your 500 follower milestone!!! It's so incredibly well deserved!! We're all so proud of you <3 May you continue thriving and never suffer from writer's block 😎

SECONDLY I have a smut request for all the slutty bitches out there (it's me. I'm slutty bitches 💅). I would please like “Shall we put that mouth to better use?” with Javi P because we all KNOW he's the absolute KING of brattamers.

THANKS BABE <33 I SEND LOVE, STAY SPICY ❤‍🔥

HELLO YOU PERFECT DARLING 🧡 Firstly, thank you so much - you have no idea how much this means to me! I'm so happy that you're hear and you're enjoying what I'm producing, it means the world to me!

I'm sorry it took a while to get round to this request - I've had a mental week - but it's hot here in London and I can't bring myself to anything else so I'm working on more of these prompts! I'm not great at brat tamer!Javi, so this is ROUGH. I AM SORRY. But I hope you enjoy it still.

I LOVE YOU 🫶🏼

Pairing | Javier Pena x Female Reader

Word Count | 562

Warnings | Spicy language, allusions to oral sex and fucking, but nothing explicit (I know, who else is shocked, I know I am)

This is part of my 500 followers celebration. If you want to request a 500 word Drabble, check out this post and head into my ask box. The more the merrier. And you can read the previous drabbles here.

Main Masterlist

She had a smart mouth. Javi assumes that’s probably why he likes her so much. On her first day at the admin desk, Javi had ambled down after hearing about the ‘pretty new administrator’ – those had been Steve’s words and their types were very different, but he couldn’t resist a look, and damn Steve had been right. He’d been smitten almost immediately. He wasn’t used to being told no, so when you’d repeatedly turned down his advances, he couldn’t lie, he was frustrated. 

“I like your nails, querida, the colour suits your eyes.” 

“I think I heard flavour of the week last week telling you hers would look good around your cock,” You replied, dry tone, “You’ll not get that from me, so hurry up and tell me what you want.” 

That had been the first time you’d left him speechless; you were always so blunt with him. He was used to women playing coy, making him chase but giving in anyway. This was different. You were different. 

“Can I buy you a drink, hermosa?” Friday night, embassy staff bar night. 

“I can buy my own and not feel obligated to fuck you, so I’m okay thank you, Agent Peña,” You were going to turn away from him, “But maybe if you ask Intern Number 4 over there, you’ll have more luck, she’s been practically deep throating her straw whilst watching you.”

Intuitive too, he had to hand it to you, he hadn’t noticed the intern at all, more focused on the curve of your ass in the bar stool and the shirt that was unbuttoned down to the neckline of your vest underneath. 

He was starting to lose the will to live. He’d never really wanted anyone so badly in his life, all because you never really gave into him. So, when he’s stuck with Murphy and you, grounded from field work as some sort of punishment, organizing the embassy archives, he knows this is his chance. 

He curses Steve silently all day for taking your side, the both of them make comments all day – Steve starts with, “I think this is the only time I’ve been in a room full of women Peña hasn’t fucked.” Then a little while later, when he’s confused with the filing system, you’re rolling your eyes with a “They’re sorted alphabetically, Javier, how the hell did you pass basic and end up here?” 

Steve dips out at five, if he’s not needed for fieldwork then he’s not staying in the filing room past hours – he leaves with a shot over his shoulder for the two of you to behave. Javier is looking at you as he says it and there’s a smirk across your face. Bingo. 

“You don’t wanna behave, do you querida?” 

He’s walked up behind you, catching you between his two arms that he has placed on either side of you, resting them on the desk. He stifles a groan as you press your ass back into him, “Depends what you had in mind, Peña?” You’d turned to face him, body impossibly close to his own. 

He moves a hand and tilts your chin up to look at you properly, his lips just millimeters from your own. He wanted to press a kiss there so badly, but now was not the time. 

“Shall we put that smart mouth of yours to better use?”