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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 months

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ep 2. what a shame | myj, jjk

sugar, spice, and everything nice ep 2. what a shame.

pairing(s): yoonji x reader x jungkook

summary: A previous meeting in the park has somehow led to "Operation Make Jeon Jungkook's Kinda-Sorts Girlfriend Admit She Like-Likes Him" and Min Yoonji is the lead operative. A criminal undercover, if you will. It goes... poorly.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; reader is revealed to be pansexual; Yoonji outs herself to JK; internalized homophobia; denial is a river in Egypt that Yoonji is drowning in; alcohol consumption; f/f/m love triangle? slow burn; there will be smut in the future; non-idol!AU - Yoonji's POV

Funnily enough, it was actually Jeon Jungkook who brought up his maybe-kinda-sorta girlfriend.

“Hey, Yoonji-noona! You wanna go eat lamb skewers with me?”

“Uh, I guess. It’s been a while.”

“Ah, yeah, since university for me… you used to invite me a lot back then.”

Oh.

“But don’t worry, I’ll treat you this time, noona! Come on!”

Which was how Min Yoonji found herself silently munching on grilled lamb skewers as Jungkook wolfed them down like he hadn’t seen food in three days. Apparently, he had just come from a workout, which was why he was in a loose black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His black track was jacket thrown over his duffel bag. His hair was half-tied back, still messy, almost sweaty.

“Slow down. The lamb isn’t gonna walk away,” she scoffed.

Jungkook froze. Mumbled a sorry, and ate one bite at a time instead of three. Now there was an awkward silence. A soju bottle on their table was half-gone, but Yoonji wasn’t really feeling the effects yet. Didn’t even feel hot yet in her acid wash charcoal hoodie. She was wearing slate blue jeans again, the baggy kind with paint stains. She glanced at Jungkook. He wasn’t looking at her. His plate was nearly empty. There were still four more on Yoonji’s plate.

She took one from hers and placed it on Jungkook’s plate.

Those big brown eyes went wide and he gave a confused look. “Hm?” Cheeks too full to give a good response. It was hilarious with the two lip rings.

“You look hungry.”

He struggled to take a huge gulp before gasping for air and shaking his head. “But what about you? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Clearly not as starved as you. Eat up.”

She poured herself more soju and sipped delicately. Jungkook continued eating, going back to not really looking at her. He was the kind of guy that needed space to say what he needed to say. Yoonji was the kind of girl that didn’t push for answers. She used a piece of lettuce to rip off a section of lamb and put it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Maybe he just wanted to eat out with someone.

“Hey, Yoonji-noona?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m undatable?”

Huh? Chew, chew, swallow. “Aren’t you currently dating someone?”

Jungkook’s eyes shifted. Uncomfortable. “Uh … Kinda.”

She frowned. “You can’t kinda date someone. You either are or you aren’t.”

He lifted his head and peered at her under furrowed brows.

“Well, would you date me?”

Yoonji stared at him. Her past discoveries and memories flashed back in her mind’s eye. Music that makes you fall in love. Photos of his smile. His muscular body. His head on her shoulder. Yeah, I’ll totally eat lamb skewers with you! Let’s go! It’s great with it is noona’s treat! His arms around another woman, saying nice things and being clingy. Making a fuss about winning a claw machine plush that could easily be purchased with basically the same amount of money.

She replied hollowly.

“We’ve been friends for a really long time. If we were gonna date, it would have happened already.”

Jungkook half-smiled.

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled softly.

What?

But before Yoonji could ask, the fuck you mean, you figured, the young man tapped the empty wooden skewer on his plate and looked incredibly depressed.

“I think she’s mad at me. I must have done something,” he mumbled.

Yoonji blurted out the woman’s name so fast that it was nearly embarrassing. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, sighing in confirmation and dropping the skewer to pick up his cup of soju. He gave the impression of like a kicked puppy. Big peepers included.

“What could you have done?”

His lips twisted and he shrugged, drowning his cup. “I don’t know. I thought you could help me with that.”

“Did you ask?”

He gawked at her like she had three heads.

She resisted the urge to bop him on the head and opened the other bottle of soju on their table, pouring him some more. “Okay, if you didn’t ask, then it means you either don’t have the balls to communicate or you already know what it is and don’t want to face the answer. If it is the former, then I’m sorry but you’re undatable. No one wants to date someone who doesn’t have the courage to speak up. It’s incredibly frustrating,” she huffed, nibbling away at more lamb.

He remained silent.

Yoonji made it through a whole skewer.

“So you know what it is, huh?” she finally said.

Those big peepers shifted from side to side again. A few strands of his black hair hung down as he chewed down on another skewer.

“Mmm… Kinda?”

This idiot. But, again, before Yoonji could get out her snappish remark, Jungkook suddenly followed up.

“What do you know about pansexuality, noona?”

She froze.

“W… What?”

“Pansexuality,” he repeated, looking spaced-out and pensive. “Although, she said she didn’t really like the term. She described it as sexual and romantic attraction not being affected by gender, as gender is a mental construct of an individual and could change throughout their lifetime.” His expression looked strained, as if he was being asked to calculate the magnetic flux of two intersecting wires. In short, attempting to comprehend a concept he had no clue about. It was going poorly. “To be honest, I didn’t really get it but I Googled it and it said something about how she could be sexually attracted to any gender and I…”

He sighed.

“I mean, I don’t wanna feel this way but it made me feel… less?”

Oh.

This was awkward.

Jungkook kept babbling even though Yoonji was too stunned to speak. “I was gonna ask Namjoon-hyung, but, I dunno… I’m kinda afraid he’ll scold me. Or probably recommend me books to read. I think I would end up more confused than anything. Hoseokie-hyung isn’t around, and I don’t really feel like asking any of the other hyungs. I don’t know if you’ll really get it either. But maybe you’ve met someone like that, noona.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Why would you say all this now?”

The living embodiment of a human Energizer bunny looked defeated. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. I probably shouldn’t have said anything anyway. I just feel too safe around you. But I shouldn’t go on talking about personal stuff. I guess you wouldn’t understand, huh?”

Yoonji grabbed his forearm and squeezed it.

He looked startled, sitting up abruptly, looking down at her white-knuckled hand then up at her face with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Why wouldn’t I understand?”

Jungkook blinked at her. “Uh… well, you only like guys.”

She scowled. “Who told you that?”

“Um… er… uh, no one, actually, I assumed–”

She slapped his arm and glared. “Exactly.”

There was a moment of mute shock.

From both sides, really. The gravity of what she said suddenly sunk in, and Yoonji looked away, feeling her cheeks heat. She had never said it to anyone but to her closest friend Jung Hoseok, after all, and she certainly never planned to tell Jungkook. Indirectly, but still. He was a relentless teaser when he had ammunition, and Yoonji was not interested in being subjected to jokes about her sexual preferences.

“I’m sor–”

“You have a problem with pansexual people?” She suddenly snapped, years of underlying resentment slowly rearing its ugly head.

“No. I just know that I’ll never be enough.”

He sounded so sad that she suddenly forgot all about her own internalized digressions. They didn’t involve him anyway. She turned back and Jungkook was the one looking down, his shoulders drooping.

“I… We still see each other, but I can’t help it. Every time we have sex, I feel like I’m not doing enough. I’m not enough,” he rambled on and Yoonji felt a strange shudder having the confirmation they were actually fucking even though it was blaringly obvious. “Then I get performance anxiety,” he winced, muttering it below his breath although she heard him perfectly clearly. “I can see she regrets telling me. She’s never brought it up again either. I know it’s me. I know it’s my fault. I mean, it was my fault to begin with because her having more experience than me already intimidated me and I said that we should just be casual–”

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

Somehow, he had slouched down so low in his seat that he seemed smaller than her. Puppy eyes struck her in the heart even though Yoonji knew they should be directed at someone else.

“Why the fuck did you tell her you want to be casual? You never want a causal relationship,” she continued scolding. “And why the fuck do you say you feel less? It’s so obvious that she clearly likes your dumb ass! Are there any brain cells up there? If I were you, I would do anything to be with her all the fucking time!”

Silence.

Jungkook stared with wide eyes and a mildly frightened expression.

Yoonji breathed out hard, greatly annoyed.

“Do you…”

She glared at his hesitation.

“Do you really think she likes me?”

This guy is unbelievable.

“Have you talked to her about me?” Jungkook pointed out. “Would you consider her a friend?”

Uh. “Well… no. I don’t know her at all, actually.”

He seemed disappointed. “Oh.”

Yoonji scoffed. “It is not going to be hard to get her to admit that she likes you.”

“What are you thinking of wearing?”

“A… dress. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to wear?”

A light shrug. “You can wear anything. The important thing is to be comfortable and believe that your outfit expresses how you want to feel.”

Min Yoonji was standing on an escalator with Jeon Jungkook’s maybe-kinda-sorta girlfriend, wondering how she willingly got herself in this situation of standing next to a woman with more presence than a blue whale. After the dinner, Jungkook had apologized and even expressed gratitude for Yoonji feeling safe enough to come out, which she promptly dismissed. It was weird to make it a big deal and ten times weirder that it was him that now knew because it now made her and Jungkook closer. Not something she had been going for.

She hadn’t been going for… this either.

Currently, Yoonji was standing on a mall escalator, wearing sneakers and loose slate jeans once again, but this time with a black-and-white bomber jacket over a long sleeve white shirt. She had tied up her hair in a ponytail and left some front pieces hanging out.

The other woman had her hair up too.

Twisted into a black claw clip. Maroon faux fur jacket with a black velvet dress under it. The dress flared out around the waist and the irregular hem draped along her bare legs when she walked. Black heeled boots with buckles along that side that were shaped like bats. Yoonji spied a black sling bag under the jacket, tucked just under the woman’s chest.

That elegant hand held her cell phone and tapped away at it, looking thoughtful.

There were no additional accessories on her phone except for a plain black bordered phone case with a pop socket on it. A cutesy tuxedo cat head with green eyes. All the nails of her dominant hand were cut shorter now, although all in a gentle almond shape. Painted a shimmery chocolate brown. Her other hand still had the long nails and now Yoonji suspected they must be natural. They weren’t as decorated as the manicures in the salons. She had looked up prices in her spare time. Only for fun, of course. And, holy fuck.

Women spent a lot on nice nails.

Yoonji wondered why she had promised Jungkook to help him figure this out.

“Where do you wanna go first?” her calm, smooth voice asked.

Yoonji stiffened, stepping off the escalator. “Uh, I don’t know.”

A curious look. “You don’t like shopping?”

She paused. Actually… “I do. But usually I accompany my friend Jung Hoseok and pick up stuff when he visits his favorite stores. He’s at military service right now, though.”

“Ah, hmm.”

They stopped walking, standing in the middle of the mall. The woman remained on her phone, doing something silently. People walked past them, ignoring their existence. The silence was getting just a touch past socially acceptable and Yoonji found herself needing to fill the void.

“Thank you, by the way.”

Those dark eyes drifted back and now she found herself trapped in a now-familiar scorched gaze. Something about it. It wasn’t the color of her irises but the intensity of focus. Yoonji noticed she didn’t often look directly at people but it was hard to look away once she noticed the other woman wasn’t wearing makeup, or at least any she could tell. Just glossy lip balm. It became all the more noticeable that the strength behind those eyes wasn’t the smoke-and-mirrors of a done-up face.

“I… Hm, I actually don’t get to wear more feminine clothes that often,” Yoonji confessed, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. For… reasons. “I repair guitars at a music shop for a living. In the beginning, when the customers came in, they didn’t really take me seriously when I dressed more… girly. I guess it just became more of a habit to dress the way I do. It’s casual and comfy, though, so I like ended up liking it. But when it comes to feminine styles, I don’t really know anything. Makes me a shitty girl, huh?”

The gaze broke and the woman turned her head to the sea of passing faces.

Yoonji let out the breath she hadn’t known she had been holding onto.

“There’s no such thing. Eh, in general, people don’t really know anything,” Jungkook’s friend-with-benefits chuckled. “You are a perfectly valid, good girl. Look around you. People wear whatever they want. Just because something is trendy doesn’t mean it suits everyone or makes them feel comfortable in themselves. Even if it looks good on them, they can feel discomfort in feeling disconnected with their inner selves.”

That playful smile came back.

“Do you really need my help? I think you should come as you are to the date. You look cool.”

She felt her cheeks burn.

Then.

Oh, right.

The premise of this excursion. A date Yoonji was supposedly going to go on that she didn’t know how to dress for and enlisting the help of a female acquaintance. Normal circumstances. Yeah. Totally. And she was of course going out with a guy. Duh. She deliberately skirted around the details of said guy though, since, uh, said guy didn’t exist.

“I think I would be a bit out of a place at a fancy restaurant.” She named the nicest restaurant she could remember. A place her parents went to for one of their wedding anniversaries.

“Oh, is that where it’s at? A bit much for a first date.”

Yoonji mustered up the best shrug she could.

“Don’t you have to make reservations?”

“He’s the one who invited, so I guess he did.”

“Hmmmm.”

It was a very bemused, hmmmm, and Yoonji thought the jig was up.

“Here, take a look. I’ve been saving some inspiration. Tell me what speaks to you.”

And then the woman handed Yoonji her phone. She took it awkwardly, a beat too slow, but her fingers caught the cat-head-shaped pop socket and gripped tightly, glancing at the screen. It was dark despite the bright lights. Then, without warning, a perfumed presence slid beside her and reached over to swipe at the top of the screen, swiftly changing the brightness. One breath was all it took. Warm and spiced and resonating of bitter coffee. Not the type that indicated a constant drinker, but the aftereffects of a unique fragrance. Yoonji felt her entire body hastily meander between calming down and freaking the fuck out.

She loved the scent of coffee. Maybe even had a mild addiction.

But the other female was too close, too close, so close Yoonji could feel the softness of the faux fur press into her upper arm and feel a head hovering over her shoulder.

“You can wear pants even to fancy places,” the calm voice was saying, slowly moving through the downloaded photos of model-worthy women dressed elegantly and maturely. “You don’t have to wear black either. Brown or even a jewel-toned color could be nice. If you pair slacks with a softer texture, like a cashmere sweater or a chiffon top, it won’t feel so stuffy.”

The terms didn’t exactly go over Yoonji’s head but, then again, her head wasn’t working. “Shouldn’t I wear a dress?” she mumbled thickly, trying to get her tongue to work.

“Theres no should or should not in fashion.” Soft chiding. “I thought you liked pants?”

“I have nice legs,” Yoonji unexpectedly found herself blurting.

The world stopped.

Well, only in her head. It wasn’t untrue, at least Yoonji didn’t think so, deep down. Would it seem like unnecessary boasting, though? Or could she been seen as rude, attempting to get a rise out of someone her friend was supposedly casually dating? Was saying that crossing a line somehow?

“Oh, you’re cool with showing them off?”

Her cheeks felt warm. “I… I mean, a guy would like that, right?”

“Sure. A girl would like that too.”

Yoonji froze.

The shimmery chocolate-colored fingernail breezed past a few more photos. To ones of models in various skirts and dresses. “Then, what about these? Color? No color? Something tighter or looser?”

“I…” There were quite a few nice outfits but Yoonji’s head was still spinning. Get a grip! “Not too tight. I’m not that into color but I’ll try it. More minimal and classic. Stuff I can wear again.”

“Ah, like this?”

There was a photo of a woman in a library, or at least a set that seemed like a library. She was wearing a cream turtleneck with a few thin gold bracelets and a tweed brown-plaid maxi skirt with a simple thin black belt. The lighting was warm and low, giving the photo a dreamy vibe.

Still, Yoonji frowned.

Does she think I’m this kind of girl?

“No, something a bit more… fun.”

Before either of them could say anything more, a notification popped down from the top. It simply read, Jungkook, followed by notice of an image attachment. Then, just as rapidly, the notification was replaced by another. A message this time.

Can’t you see how bad I want you?

Between the immediate goosebumps that quickly swept over Yoonji’s back and arms, and the sudden, tch, next to her, she didn’t move a centimeter as the phone was taken from her. Surely… Surely Jungkook knew they were going out today. But, then again, how could he predict his lady friend handing Yoonji her phone to browse fashion styles? But texting those kinds of things in broad daylight? What was in the photo?

Wait.

Why did Yoonji want to know?

“Sorry about that. I think I have a good idea of what you’re after now. Let’s go.”

Fingertips flicked her wrist to get her attention. Yoonji scrambled after the faux fur, startled and embarrassed and curious and confused and in general wondering how someone would respond to that. How someone could respond to that. But she was, typing away, and Yoonji resisted the urge to look. The reply was short though, as the phone was shoved back into the sling bag by the woman’s chest. She looked back to glance at her.

Narrowed dark eyes and enigmatic smile.

“You alright?”

Her heart was beating so fast that it was hard to speak.

“Y… Yeah,” Yoonji heard herself say even though she was definitely not alright.

Let your hair down.

She reached up and pulled the scrunchie out of her black hair, letting it fall by her shoulders. She had never been afraid of whether or not she had femininity. Her mother liked fashion, so even when she was young, Yoonji had been put in fashionable clothes. Dresses. Skirts. Blouses. As she got older, with the influence of her interests, it became quite clear that it was easier to dress more practically. Her mother complained, but her brother always defended her, pushing her to pursue her passion of music.

Yoonji, too, didn’t see what was wrong with dressing more boyishly.

She never liked the idea that men had to be a certain way and women had to be a certain way. Proper and refined. It wasn’t that she always wore baggy clothes, but they were the most convenient to throw on and see friends. There was no point in owning extravagant clothing anyway, since the music shop she worked at was casual and she had to move around a lot.

It simply made sense.

So, now, Yoonji stood in front of a mirror in a dressing room clad a white sweater and a dark brown miniskirt with her hair down, and wondered if she was pretty.

She didn’t doubt how conventionally nice she looked in the mirror. She had pale, creamy, fair skin that everyone envied or at least they said they did. Dark brown eyes that perhaps weren’t big enough to be innocent, but rather striking against her complexion. When she was a child, Yoonji used to have a blunt bob with straight cut bangs. They had grown out to wispy curtain bangs when she was at university and she kept them that way ever since. Her black hair slightly longer than shoulder length, thick and slightly wavy, mostly from keeping it tied up. She wasn’t tall but not short either. A narrow frame she couldn’t help. During high school she filled in a little in the chest, but good genetics had compensated by long legs and shapely hips. By that time female classmates had begun to avoid her and whisper behind their hands, resentful and irritated, while male classmates tried their best to strike up conversation. It was around this time that Yoonji had begun to resent her female schoolmates and their underhanded comments. At least boys were honest. Stupid, but honest.

Meh, typical high school drama.

Even now, Yoonji often found herself not really wanting to make friends with other women. It had always felt like a constant competition. They would either look down at her for wearing loose-fitting clothing or become two-faced when she dressed up. Because Yoonji always preferred to be comfortable, she had stayed with the same group of male friends for a long time, which was also something apparently not a lot of girls liked. They called her easy, slut, all those nice things. So, yeah, eventually Yoonji had no female friends anymore.

Guys she dated didn’t like it either. Thankfully, she could just dump them.

As if she was going to lose her friend group over some dumb boyfriend.

She frowned at her reflection in the mirror and took off the skirt, feeling strange with it on. It seemed like something the grown-up versions of those jealous high school girls would wear. Her panties were plain black, seamless. She didn’t like the colorful ones. There was a black skirt, a long one with a bow at the waist and a wrap detail. This was nice, but she couldn’t get the bow to lay down well. Perhaps she needed a different top. There was a forest green one with a rounded collar that tucked better into the bow skirt. This was also nice but something still felt not quite her style.

Not that Yoonji knew what her femme style even was.

These were all pieces picked out by Jungkook’s maybe girlfriend.

“Let your hair down.”

“What?”

A raised eyebrow. “In order for an outfit to look good, you have to style it the way you would wear it. You can’t get the whole picture and it becomes much harder to make a decision. So, let your hair down.”

There was another one, a black-on-black pinstripe blazer dress with two intricate silver buttons holding it closed. Very cool and feminine with an edge. Yoonji found she liked this one a lot however it made more sense for a corporate meeting than an imaginary date. She was a little sad to take it off.

Let your hair down.

She wore a simple bra too. Nothing crazy. Just one of those without a wire and no lace. Too itchy for her sensitive skin. There was a sheer aqua mint top next and a strappy black dress paired with it, successfully hiding the bra lines while leaving the billowy sleeves with the single ruffle at the cuff visible. The muted color looked nice against her skin. Her dark hair laid nicely against the gauzy aqua fabric. Carefree and a little messy. The dress had a few pleats, giving it a fuller skirt that made it easy to move.

The flash of a memory.

A manicured hand gripping hers.

It doesn’t mean anything.

But it could.

Yoonji closed her eyes.

Coffee. She smelled like coffee in a sweet, luxurious way, as if Yoonji had just bitten into a fruit and nut scone in a coffee shop. But there was that rock-and-roll dangerous vibe too. Industrial. Raw. And then there was those piercing eyes that seemed scorched. She had endured but with emerged with scars. Intense. She clearly presented feminine but there was something just not about her. They had been so close. So close. If Yoonji had turned her head, just so, then that heady coffee perfume would be right by her nose and those eyes would shift and stare back, inviting her to the darkness.

Their lips would brush against each other.

She would whisper her name.

Low and in wonder.

“Yoonji?”

There was a knock on the dressing room door.

Startled, she hastily stepped back from the door. Nearly collided into the rack of clothes and the damn mirror. Thankfully, she didn’t, although her hands planted into the wall and ricocheted her off, making her stumble slightly in her socks, almost tripping over her sneakers.

“This has nothing to do with your date, but I saw this striped sweater and I thought you might like it. Wanna try it?” the calm voice behind the door asked.

Yoonji gawked at the door.

Then she tiptoed over and opened it slightly, seeing the dark red fur coat, black velvet dress, and bat boots holding out a dark grey and black sweater. Thick horizontal stripes, oversized, drop shoulders, and cropped. Then her face appeared as the offered sweater lowered. Observant gaze with those scorched eyes and glossy full lips that were oh-so-kissable.

A half-smile.

“Anything work out?”

Her body was half-hid by the door. The other woman didn’t try to crane her head over to see more. She just stood there, holding out the sweater, half-smiling, on the line between teasing and curious. Yoonji glanced from the sweater to that half-smile.

“That looks like something you would wear.”

The half-smile became a full smirk.

“Maybe you like my style.”

Yoonji didn’t say anything. She reached out, but the sweater was pulled back a little. She frowned, faltering, and then the sweater was hooked onto her outstretched arm, the woman’s hand lightly resting on Yoonji’s wrist.

“Do you want to try something else? A different size, maybe?”

I did not just think about kissing her.

“I… I’m almost done. Just need to change back.”

“Mmmm, okay. I’ll be waiting.”

They were standing beside each other, waiting for their drink order. A paper bag sat in a chair by the table they were standing next to, unofficially officially claiming it.

They were currently in an awkward silence after Yoonji had picked a fight earlier.

“Wanna get something to drink?”

A distracted look. “Sure. I’ll treat you.” A head tick at the paper bag in Yoonji’s hand. “You’ve spent enough.”

She saw the phone with the tuxedo cat pop socket being tucked away in the sling bag once again.

“No, I’ll pay.”

“It’s just a drink.”

Yoonji waited until the other woman looked back in mild confusion.

“I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

A pause.

Then a half-smile.

“Ah. Okay, then. Lead the way.”

Yoonji went to the counter to receive the drinks. An iced Americano for herself and a Thai tea boba for her shopping partner. They sat down, busying themselves with their habits. Punching the straw in. Mixing up the physical ice even through the barista had already done a good job of that.

The calm voice broke the metaphorical ice first.

“What did you end up getting?”

The woman had come back to the dressing room as Yoonji was buttoning her jeans and told her she would be waiting outside the store since she received a call. She had simply answered back, sure, and known exactly who was on the phone. Somehow. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Even as she emerged from the doors, she could see the body language of the other female. Predatory. She was speaking low, and softly, before noticing Yoonji and cutting the call short.

For a moment, she thought about not answering the question but instead she sipped her iced Americano and answered. “The aqua shirt and black dress. And the sweater you brought in last minute.”

“Ah, cool. I thought you would go for the blazer dress.”

Yoonji stilled. “I wasn’t sure what outerwear to wear with it. My only nice coat is a long black wool coat my mom got me last winter.”

“Understandable.”

The silence was less awkward now. Still not great, no thanks to herself. Yoonji chewed her lip. A bad habit. She wondered what the phone call was about. It was too invasive to ask though. Add that to the text she had seen earlier and… surely that was crossing a line. Is he down bad for her that much? She tried not to think about it. How couldn’t he be? Caught a glimpse of how that stylish hand was placed possessively over her Thai tea boba. For a split second, Yoonji imagined those shimmering chocolate fingernails digging into a neck with a defined jaw, right under an ear with three piercings.

She suddenly became acutely aware that she was being stared at.

Yoonji looked up.

Scorched eyes across the table.

“How long have you known Jungkook?”

She straightened, clutching her iced Americano for chilling moral support “Uh…” Thought about it. “Over a decade, I guess. He joined the group through Taehyung and Jimin. But we didn’t really talk one-on-one until a couple years ago, when he stopped by the store I work at and asked to see some guitars. Wanted to get one tattooed, I think. That was what he said anyway.” She shrugged. “I dunno if he did, though.”

“I think I’ve seen a guitar tattoo on his sleeve.” A slow sip. Chew, chew. “I haven’t really inspected him thoroughly, though.”

“Haven’t you?” Yoonji heard herself say before she could stop herself.

Pause.

Chew, chew.

“You really don’t like me, huh?”

She tried to backtrack. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be cold. It’s just how I am.”

“Is that so?”

Yoonji found she couldn’t look forward anymore. This mission was so far a fail. She tried to salvage it somehow. “I mean, don’t you dislike me? Your boyfriend having a female friend and all that.”

A soft chuckle. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

What? “… What?”

“He says he’s not sure he wants to be in a committed relationship yet.”

What the fuck? Yoonji furrowed her brows and shook her drink roughly, trying to make sense of it all. “You’re kidding me. Jungkook? That airhead had the audacity to say that?”

“That’s what he told me. Feel free to ask him yourself.”

This wasn’t making any sense. Then, it clicked. It won’t matter even if I get her to say that she likes him. His need for constant validation is killing this before it even began. Whether or not Yoonji thought Jungkook’s insecurities were rational didn’t matter. He hooked up but never got too serious because it didn’t feel right yet. There was always something. I just know that I’ll never be enough. What a dumb thing to say. And, of course, if he voiced that the supposed cause was his partner’s sexuality, something she couldn’t help, then, yeah, of course.

They would be stuck in limbo like this.

“For the record, I’m glad he’s friends with you.”

Yoonji lifted her head, seeing an enigmatic smile.

“I quite like you.”

This was a complete mission fail.

“After all, you asked me on a date. It’s pretty rare for a girl to ask me on a date.”

Heat flared over Yoonji’s cheekbones. “I… I didn’t…”

A head tick, causing her hair to fall against her cheek. “Not once have you gushed about this supposed first date you’re going on. You don’t seem excited or nervous about it at all. Pretty unusual if you like this guy. But maybe you don’t know him that well and met him through an app. Then there would be some level of fear, I hope, unless you have nerves of steel and a black belt in taekwondo I don’t know about. There’s no apprehension though.” Yoonji felt her grip on the cold drink get colder and colder as her lies were broken through. “But let’s say you are going on this date and all you wanted was a second opinion. You never once asked me to view any of the outfits I picked out for you. Maybe you only wanted a free stylist, then. If this was purely transactional, then, why ask me to spend more time, sitting down and getting drinks at a café?”

Abort, abort.

But Yoonji was more frozen than the melting ice in her coffee.

“And you always get cold and distant when I mention I’m fucking Jungkook.”

That shadowed gaze.

Those predator eyes.

That fucking smile.

“But you don’t like him like that, right?”

She willed her mouth to say something but her brain had run out of ideas.

“I…”

Then Jungkook’s not-girlfriend said something that completely obliterated any capacity to form a sentence.

“What a shame.”

Min Yoonji was alone in her apartment, drinking a beer.

Getting drunk.

She was way past the days of being shit-face plastered out in bars and throwing herself in taxis to arrive home alone so she could throw up in the privacy of her own bathroom. Running from her issues by making her mind numb to the world. Yoonji had been – still was – good at it. She had a high tolerance. Some would call it lucky. Some would call her an undignified woman. She hadn’t cared either way. She had been young but self-aware enough to know exactly what she was doing and did it anyway. When she had her revelations, it had been easy to quit cold turkey because Yoonji had known damn well it was all in her head and all she had to do was fucking do it.

Also, she was getting a bit too old for dumb youth to be an excuse anymore.

Hmph.

Some of her past bad habits she completely avoided, however, alcohol was a central part of Korean socializing, so Yoonji had chosen to repair her relationship with it. Thus, she could now drink freely knowing her limits. But she rarely drank alone, and rarely that much when she did. A beer here. A glass of wine there. Some whiskey on lonely nights, vibing to the silent melody of the moon at four in the morning.

Yoonji sat at her small dining table and wondered if she should crack open another beer or held straight for the whiskey.

It was seven in the evening on a Friday.

Got home from work to start off the weekend and now she could not avoid it any longer. Her thoughts swam wildly in her head. She had been trying to keep them under wraps during the work week. Didn’t think about them. Hoped they would go away. They did not. It had been a long, long time since Yoonji had been read to filth like that. Certainly never with such precision and on purpose. Sure, sometimes arguments with previous flings would accidentally hit the nail right on the head – using them only for the physical aspect to avoid emotional connection, for example – but it had always been in anger and high tension, so Yoonji had always been able to play it off.

She couldn’t play off being caught in such a blatant lie by Jeon Jungkook’s definitely-not-but-definitely-was girlfriend.

There was no comeback. She hadn’t done anything at the café. Couldn’t. Couldn’t act. Couldn’t even say a word, only stared dumbly as the woman smiled, bowed, and excused herself to take care of personal business.

Jungkook, probably.

She willed herself to throw up at the thought.

Instead, Yoonji got up and went to go get the whiskey.

It wasn’t that she had never had relationships. She had, and deep ones at that, but upon reflection she could point out the exact reasons why she had entered – and exited – said relationships. To feel loved during a loveless time. To run away. To get access to guitars and learn about them. She loved, but Yoonji had always known it was the crude, fleeting, conditional love that would never last. Love with a purpose. She was never fully invested enough in them, always hiding her true self because, well, people can only betray you once they know all the deep, dark stuff. Hence why they were all only men. Specifically, the kind of men that wait for emotional depth to come to them rather than seeking it.

The kind of people that didn’t know how to recognize internal scars.

Also why she never told any of them that she was attracted to other people other than, uh, men.

Yoonji poured herself a healthy amount of liquor and went back to sit at her small dining table of four chairs, placing the glass on a cork coaster she bought over ten years ago. She always told herself that she simply didn’t need to tell them. Everything was fine. And yet for some reason it always felt like lying, even though it didn’t really matter.

Except it did.

Case in point, Jeon dumbass Jungkook worrying about not being enough for his hot-ass not-girlfriend, which was simply such ridiculously bone-headed thinking that Yoonji growled and threw back half of her whiskey, scowling at the thought.

It bothered her.

It bothered Yoonji that someone could confidently tell another such a deep secret like sexuality. To someone they were only casually fucking, no less, even though there was nothing fucking casual about the two of them. It bothered her to know that her feeling was right, the idea that someone could be bothered by that information even though it presumably didn’t matter. It bothered her that it was Jungkook, not because he was wrong but because if… maybe if he had already known about Yoonji’s personal tastes, then he might have been able to take it in stride. Maybe if she had been brave enough to say it out loud… And most of all, it bothered Yoonji because to know such a beautiful and clever and intuitive woman of that caliber could be rejected simply due to her sexuality…

Where the fuck does that put me?

Yoonji was not down on herself in terms of looks, but she knew that she lacked that kind of cool assertiveness and razor-sharp introspection. And, okay, maybe she didn’t know all the deep shit about Jungkook’s lady friend, but it was obvious she very comfortably lived life the way she wanted, aggressively so, which was precisely why Jungkook was attracted to her. Of course, he would have a boner in the presence of self-actualization.

If I…

She nursed the rest of the whiskey, sighing.

She thought about that Instagram post. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it meant something. Music that makes you fall in love. Idiot. She chewed the side of her lip. Maybe it was just a compliment to a friend. Yeah. How could it be anything else? It wasn’t some mushy-gushy shit. He hadn’t acted low-key weird at the time. He was too awkward for that. Or maybe it was because Yoonji had been dating that asshole guy at the time and she herself hadn’t noticed how her friends were faring due to being too occupied with that emotional rollercoaster. Fuck. But who cares if it meant anything? Not Yoonji. Yeah, definitely not me. The whiskey burned in the back of her throat. She barely noticed. I can admit it. I dated guys because they’re more physical than women. They don’t fucking scare me with that emotional shit. She found her way back into the kitchen and poured some more. The sting of alcohol. Sure, there are girls who only want to hook up but they’re emotionally intelligent and I don’t need to be known. So what if it was cowardly? It was okay to be cowardly. And it wasn’t only women, Yoonji knew. She knew that she generally avoided dating any and all genders that displayed deep emotional intelligence.

There isn’t much to me. You could figure it out if you listened to my songs.

She remembered Jungkook nagging her to post on Spotify, maybe even try and become an independent artist. But, no, no. Yoonji was stoic. Cool. One of the guys. None of that emotional shit.

I think I like her.

That was so fucking scary. Fuck. Feelings were so fucking scary. Like? Like-like? She reeled at her kitchen counter and it had nothing to do with the whiskey. That would be complicated shit. Not to mention the guilt. No, no. She was cool. She had always been cool. She didn’t outwardly show her emotions much. That was how they could be protected. That was how…

I’m not supposed to feel this.

And it was a difficult yes-and-no. Even if she knew it made no sense, she had still grown up with the idea of boy-meets-girl. Not girl-meets-boy-who-meets-girl-that-becomes girl-on-girl. Oh, shit. She pushed her whiskey glass away, shaking her head even though she was alone. Yes, alone. No nosy Jungkook poking his head over her shoulder and asking what she was up to. No Jungkook grinning extra wide as Yoonji piled meat onto his plate and calling her his favorite noona. No Jungkook taking her hand without hesitation to run to their destination, not worried if someone will say something. Who cares? Who cares? Yoonji scolded herself for thinking about him. I’m only doing that to avoid…

She shuddered, sinking down to the kitchen floor, the thoughts spinning, spinning.

What a shame.

Those manicured hands.

The casual head tilt.

Those scorched eyes.

I can’t think about you like that.

ep 3. take your time. sugar, spice, and everything nice

min yoonji masterpost | masterpost

#min yoonji x reader #yoonji x reader #bts smut #min yoonji #jungkook x reader #yoonji smut #jeon jungkook x reader #gender bend yoongi

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bougiechloe · 8 months

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New Beginnings | Brown Sugar (Ep.1)

Brown Sugar follows Kourtney and Malik as they begin their lives together and settle into their first home in Willow Creek. In this episode, Kourtney goes back to work as a yoga instructor, Malik embarks on his journey of becoming a veterinarian, and they take up a new hobby together.

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writers-hes · 2 years

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Brown Sugar (e. munson x reader)

Two kids made it out of Hawkins but both came back, seeking comfort and rest only to find each other again. (friends to lovers, mutual pining, rockstar!eddie, baker!reader)

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On August 22, 1986, Eddie Munson left Hawkins, Indiana without a goodbye and a plan.

It was inevitable, really. He graduated high school months ago (it was his year after all) and saved up enough money from his drug dealings to escape the hellhole he called Hawkins in his beat-up van with nowhere to go. He decided that he had enough money for gas, food, and living expenses for a month in New York. All by himself, where the culture is. He found a pretty cheap hostel off the contact book and they were more than willing to give Eddie a discount and an allowance if he helped around the maintenance of the property. It was more than enough for him who just wanted out.

But a month turned into another week, and then another, and then a month. That month turned into months, until Eddie found a stable job as a tattoo artist in Brooklyn, sidelining with his band, Corroded Coffin, in a grunge-y bar in Manhattan, New York. He met his friends there, Gareth being one of his closest confidants. He wrote songs for the band—strumming his guitar with mindless melodies and playing the antique piano with chords. They started singing their own songs, more people coming into the bar until they landed a record deal with one of the most prominent record labels in Hollywood. They signed immediately with Eddie as their frontman. It was a pretty good deal, Eddie had creative control of the direction of the band and with the uprising of the grunge culture, it seemed like Eddie’s dreams had finally come true.

Sure, overly-conservatives called his music the devil’s music. Some people even suggested that he was a part of a secret society for the rich and famous. There was another rumor that he skyrocketed to fame because of a famous relative. None of it was true but it’s not like he minded. One thing that was good about being the resident Freak of Hawkins was not minding what everyone else thought of him. Devil music? Sure. Trailer trash? Nothing he’s ever heard before. It’s all water off a duck’s back—hey, that sounded like a good song title.

Another good thing that came out of his career was finally getting a house for his uncle back in Hawkins. It wasn’t the biggest but it was enough; a two-storey house in Lucas Sinclair’s street. Wayne never thought that there would be a day that he’d finally live in a house but his boy did it. Damn right, he did.

The band started with an extended play. It was a five-song album that contained their famous songs in Manhattan. Cinders by Corroded Coffin was a hit; a rock EP with different musical styles—pop rock, metal, ballad rock, classic rock, and contemporary. It showcased the talent and the potential that Corroded Coffin was and soon, Eddie found himself in North American tours that extended to Europe.

It was no surprise when, after two hectic years, Eddie Munson went back to Hawkins, Indiana for a break. Being on tour was tiring. Sure, everything paid off and he was more than happy but after a world tour, award shows, and a hit album, Eddie needed a break. Something to ground himself and what could offer that but his hometown, Hawkins? Everybody assumed that he was from New York anyway; always so secretive with his past and his private life—no one would suspect that the most sought-after rock vocalist was back home with an oversized hoodie and boxers, getting yelled at by his Uncle Wayne for not visiting enough.

Honeysuckle Rose by Thelonius Monk plays through the speaker of your bakery. It was rather a slow day and you busied yourself with an Italian buttercream for a cake order tomorrow. Steve Harrington just landed some corporate deal and needed a cake to express his gratitude to his staff. You didn’t know what his work was but if it meant that he would be more than willing to spend so much money for a ‘thank you’ cake, then you wouldn’t mind. The shop smelled like vanilla—not the fake vanilla essence that you get from the store but of a special order Tahitian vanilla paste that was so hard to come by in Hawkins. You smiled at the satisfaction. This was the life that you always wanted, a slow life filled with sweets and nothing else.

You looked around, muffins and macarons lined the display. Your French butter croissants were sold out just before lunch, a few pain au chocolats and kouign amanns here and there. You made it. You fulfilled your dreams and so did everyone else. Should you hire a staff and start serving coffee too? Einspänner, americano… You hummed lightly at the thought, it would be nice but tedious. You pride yourself in small batches of everything you have after all.

The bell by the door frame rings, indicating a new customer. You looked up from your station and smiled. It was Robin Buckley, another Hawkins High alumni.

“Hey, sorry but do you have cupcakes? Like, a lot of cupcakes,” she asked. She was trying to catch her breath and you watched her calm down.

“Um, I could check the back,” you replied before wiping your hands on your apron. Your memory recalled six cupcakes in the fridge. The genoise cake was flavored with coffee and hazelnut. A caramel buttercream would do good for the topping and you were lucky that you had caramel to incorporate into the vanilla buttercream you always had. You emerged from the backroom with six cupcakes and Robin almost swooned. She could smell the coffee from where she was, the glass panel be damned. “I have six coffee and hazelnut cupcakes. Would you like them? It would take me fifteen to thirty minutes to ice them,”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said. “May I sit?”

“Of course. Let me just wash my hands and get everything for your cupcakes,” you said before disappearing back to retrieve your tools. Robin watched as you neatly laid down a jar of caramel, a bowl of vanilla buttercream, and what looked like sprinkles.

“You’re from Hawkins High, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, without looking at her. You were busy setting your commercial grade stand mixer. “Do you want a pain au chocolat or a muffin? I baked them this morning. On the house,” you offered.

“Really?” she asked, looking at the display. Now that she really looked at it, everything seemed good. Sure, you were known back in Hawkins High as the baker girl who always had her cookies sold out but what you have now was like, light years away from your cookies. “Can I get a white chocolate and raspberry muffin?”

“Sure,” you replied before getting the requested muffin with a pair of tongs. “Do you want me to heat it up?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m really hungry and well, our friend just got back from the city after two years of little communication and I decided to get him cupcakes as a welcoming gift,” she said, standing up to take the muffin from you. “Oh, wow. This is really good,” she complimented with a mouthful of muffin. You laughed before going back to your job. You took a spatula and plopped a generous amount of caramel buttercream on the cupcakes before doing a swirl and then topping it with chocolate shavings.

“How have you been?” you asked, trying to make a light conversation. You never really talked to Robin in High School. After graduating, you kind of just left Hawkins to study in a culinary school outside Indiana.

“Good,” she replied. “Just started college since I took some time off but I’m taking Gender Studies in Indianapolis. What about you?”

“Oh, I finished my course and started my bakery,” you said. Robin could sense the pride that you held. Everybody knew that you were offered a scholarship at a prestigious culinary school and that you took it. It was the first time you got out of your comfort zone, the second was opening up your sweet shop, nobody knew what the next one would be. “Kind of lucky that Hawkins seems to like what I offer,”

“I mean, after you left Hawkins High, bake sales were never the same,” Robin laments. “Steve refused to buy other people’s cookies when he found out that you left but you’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” you repeated, finishing the cupcakes wordlessly. “I’m about finished with the cupcakes. Do you want a gift box for it?”

“Yes, please,” she replied. You nodded and told her the total price of her order and she gave you her payment.

“Let me just go to the back and fix everything,” you said. You washed your hands and carefully placed the cupcakes in a special gift box with your shop’s logo and phone number. You took another white chocolate and raspberry muffin and a salted strawberry cookie.

“Here you go, Robin,” you said, extending her a paper bag and the box of your cupcake. Robin looked at what’s inside the bag and she smiled.

“Free treats? Sweet,” she said. “Thank you!”

“Thank you!” you told her watching her away from the store and going back to tending Steve’s cake order.

“I’m here!” Robin announced, opening the door of the new Munson household. It was decorated nicely, Wayne’s mug collection the centrepiece of the dining room, while the walls of the living room were lined with pictures of Eddie, Wayne, and their friends.

“Welcome back, Robin,” Wayne replied. “How was your day?”

“Well, I got cupcakes for Eddie from this bakery in town. Hey, Steve, remember the girl with the best cookies from high school? She owns the place and she gave me a muffin and a cookie,” she rambled, going deeper into the house to see everyone there. Eddie ordered lots of pizza and soda for everyone while everybody else got small bits of what they considered as welcoming gifts. “Hi, Eddie! Welcome back. This is for you,” she said, before hugging him.

“Thanks, Robs,” he replied. Robin took him in—all tattoos and long hair. He looked older now but happier. Definitely happier. Eddie looked at the box and saw the cupcakes. “You know, I think I know her…the baker, I mean. She used to give me free cookies back in high school,”

“Yeah! Well, she has this shop now and she’s doing good,” Robin replied, sitting beside Steve.

“Anyway, how have you been? We were all shocked to know that you weren’t coming back after a month and the next thing we knew, people were lining up in the record store beside Family Video for a copy of your CD,” Steve asked. There was bitterness in his voice and Eddie understood. He knew that Steve was happy for him, though. He even attended one of his shows in Manhattan when they were small and then went to two shows after the release of the album. Eddie even brought him to his apartment, reliving what Hawkins used to be over scotch and beer. They had little correspondence over the years but that didn’t change the fact that Steve and Eddie were still close. They were just too busy growing up with their growing pains but it was alright.

“Really good but also, really tired.” Eddie replied. “Management gave us a four-month break before we go back to L.A. to write and record songs. We’re planning to release an album next year. But yeah, I decided to come back home for the break. It's been two years since I stepped foot in Hawkins and the first thing I hear is Wayne asking if I got him mugs from the cities I’ve been in,” he teased.

“Well, Wayne’s collection is as impressive as ever,” Nancy added. She has been talking mindlessly to Robin about her journalism classes, the two girls already concocting a plan to collaborate on a research paper.

“Thank you, Nancy,” Wayne said. Knocks at the door startled the group and in went a gaggle of children who all raced to Eddie, save for the lone adult in the group named Jonathan Byers.

“There’s this asshole,” That was Dustin.

“Hey, Eddie,” Max.

“Eddie!” Lucas and Mike.

“Hi,” El, Will, and Jonathan.

“Hey, guys!” Eddie smiled, standing up from the La-Z Boy. “How are you?”

Dustin tackled him into a hug. “You shouldn’t leave like that again, you hear me, asshole? Seriously, I was biking to and from the trailer park to see if you’d be back until you called to tell me that you’d be gone indefinitely,”

“Sorry, Dustin,” Eddie apologized, ruffling his curly hair. He meant it and he knew the bearing of being Dustin’s friend. “I know I shouldn’t have done that but it worked out well, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dustin nodded, breaking away from Eddie. Mike and the rest gave him half hugs while Max opted for a small wave. “We’re at the cool table now because I’ve been telling them that my friends, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson will beat the shit out of them if they make fun of any of us,” he snickered, earning eye rolls from the two men whom he considered as his older brothers. Thankfully, Dustin’s anger for Eddie seemed to dissipate.

“How long are you here for, neighbor?” Lucas asked. He was even taller now and Eddie couldn’t quite believe it.

“Four months,” Eddie replied. “I’ll be here for four months.”

Four months was enough time, the group decided. The rest of the night was spent with soda, beer, pizza, and other junk food. It felt just like the old times, the kids taking digs at Eddie and Steve, Nancy and Jonathan curled in a corner, and Robin splayed out on top of her friends. Wayne took pictures of them together to hang on the wall. Jonathan said he’ll develop them.

“Yeah, do you think I can order single origin coffee beans and some coffee syrups? Your catalogue said that you offered coffee supplies? Yeah, I’ll have caramel, dark chocolate, and vanilla syrups with that too,” you said over the phone. An impulsive thought from last week turned into reality—you bought a commercial espresso machine and hung a “HIRING” sign on the glass door of your shop. “Next week? Okay, that’s fine. Thanks,” you said before hanging up.

The coffee supplies scattered across your workspace were free samples and you sighed, trying to make a coffee menu. Some people already applied for the job but nobody could quite make the cut yet. Nobody had the precision that you were looking for. The shop was quite hectic today and you really needed another helping hand. With baking, inventory, cleaning up, and everything else, your business was wearing you to the bone. You wouldn’t have it any other way; your business was slowly expanding, it’s just that help could really come in handy.

“Hey, can I get a dozen assorted cookies?” a voice asked and you turned.

“Oh, my God,” you gasped. “Eddie Munson from middle school, right?” Eddie smiled, glad that you remembered him. How could you not? You were hopelessly crushing on the boy since you laid your eyes on him in middle school. You may or may not have given him a batch of special cookies during bake sales to convey your feelings but you were so positive that he didn’t catch it. He’d always run off with a quick ‘thanks’ or a ‘see you later.’

“The one and only,” he replied. “How have you been?”

“Good…great,” you replied, heart beating loudly. You were so sure that you buried your crush after you graduated high school but it seemed like your heart had other plans. “You?”

“Great,” he replied as he watched you pick different flavors of cookies—chocolate chip, smores, cheesecake, tiramisu, salted strawberry, butterscotch, double chocolate, chocolate and peanut butter marble, chocolate crinkle, cashew raspberry, whoopie pie, and tagalongs.

“It’s been a while,” you replied, bagging the cookies in individual parchment paper before placing them in a box. Just like how you used to in high school.

“Years,” he said. “I went to your graduation but you already left. Wanted to say thank you for the cookies,” he revealed, making you pause for a moment. “and for being the single person in all of Indiana who gave me the time of day,”

“You did?” you asked, tying the box with a ribbon. “I didn’t go because it was the orientation week for the culinary school I went to. Here,” you handed him the box.

“How much?”

“It’s on the house. Let’s keep the tradition going with free cookies,” you smiled, looking at Eddie’s brown sugar eyes, sickly and sweet.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Don’t worry about it,” But you did have to worry about it because Eddie was here and as long as he visited, he’d get free cookies from you and you would probably run out of business but it was Eddie. Any rational thought was out of the window as soon as you saw him. He was more handsome now, bigger arms from playing the guitar, long hair more kept in place but still wild enough to be signature Eddie. There was a slight stubble growing on his chin, more confidence, more everything in the best way possible. He’d be the death of you, you realize.

“Come on. I have to pay for all the cookies you gave me back then,” he said. Eddie didn’t think he’d have this opportunity again but he did. Just like back then, he felt his heart thumpthumpthumping so fast that it was ringing in his ears. His palms were sweaty but if he was nervous, he made sure to show no indication of it. He coughed to clear his throat. “What if…what if I take you out sometime? Like, a friendly dinner?”

Friendly dinner. God, a friendly dinner with your long-time crush, surely you’d manage.

“Okay,” you smiled.

“What time are you free?” he asked.

“Not today…I have to test these coffee stuff because I’m adding coffee to the menu,” you said sadly but Eddie only beamed.

“You close at six p.m., right? I’ll be here with dinner and you can ask me for my opinions on coffee,” he said.

“You won’t sleep,” you warned him, a soft smile on your face.

“I don’t sleep anyway, sweetheart,” he said. “So, Italian? Chinese?”

“Any is okay,” you said. Eddie left with a wink after that and you had to physically catch your breath. Meanwhile, Eddie was freaking out. No greasy food in Hawkins was enough for you. Eddie knew from the get-go that you enjoyed—deserved fancy things and who knew fancy things like the back of his hand? Steve Harrington.

“Do you know any five star restaurant with take-out?” Eddie asked, alerting Steve in his office.

“What?” Steve asked.

“I went to the bakery because the cupcakes Robin got were delicious and I was supposed to buy cookies but she was there and she gave me cookies and I said I’ll take her for a friendly dinner,” Eddie rambled making Steve laugh loudly. Eddie was sure that Steve was probably wiping his eyes from the tears leaking out because how could a famous rock star be so nervous to ask a small-town girl for a date? “Shut the fuck up, Harrington,”

“Okay, okay!” Steve chuckled before telling Eddie about an Italian restaurant in town. It wasn’t the fanciest but the owners were Italian and they served the best risotto and pasta ever. Eddie took note of that, ending the call and then calling the restaurant for pick-up, ordering what seemed to be whatever the owner recommended and then setting up a delivery at his home at around 5:30 in the afternoon.

Eddie paced. He could’ve asked for a different day for that dinner but he couldn’t resist. What if this was the last opportunity for him to see you again? What if you had a boyfriend who wasn’t fine with a possible friendship with him? He looked at the wine collection that he had built for possible guests—Christ, who would’ve thought Eddie was ever going to have a wine collection? He sounded like a proper douchebag right now but all is well because he saw a bottle of red wine that he had many moons ago in Europe for a meeting with a designer. It was so impressive that Eddie bought some back home in America and sent some to his uncle in Hawkins. He took it and set it on the counter. Wayne was at work right now and Eddie was left alone. Should he change his outfit? Or would it be too forward if he showed up in a suit?

An angel in the form of Max Mayfield enters your shop, an envelope in hand.

“Hey, I’m Max Mayfield. I saw that you were hiring and well, I, uh, wanted to apply,” she said, unsure. You smiled warmly at her and told her to sit on any chair seat, asking her if she wanted anything to which she replied with a short, “Nothing.”

You sat in front of her before reading the resume that she gave you. Maxine Mayfield, student of Hawkins High, skills, etcetera, etcetera.

“Do you know what you’re applying for?” you asked her. “Before we go into the application process, I’d like to inform you about the responsibilities. You’ll have to man the coffee bar, help out with baking, inventory, and the cashbox. You’d also have to help me clean up but other than that, everything’s all me. Sometimes, I’ll ask you to do something of course but I promise it’s nothing too tiresome. The business has been expanding and I just really need help with maintaining the place,” you said. Max listened attentively, taking mental notes of what it would be like to work here. Robin offered her a job at Family Video and Steve told her that she could probably intern at his work. He was employed in some big-shot accounting firm in Hawkins while taking over his dad’s real estate business slowly but Max wanted to make it on her own. No help from anyone or anything.

“That’s fine with me,” she said.

“Okay? You’ll receive training from me and you get free pastries as long as you work here. We have lots of surplus baked goods from orders and whatnot. You can also have free coffee using the espresso machine, I’d have to teach you how to use that, too.” you said. One thing you learned from interning at a patisserie in New Jersey was how there will always be surplus. At the end of the day, you’d have to throw out anything that didn’t sell and it always felt wasteful. You didn’t like wasting food but surplus was inevitable; so you opted for ‘free tastes’ and freebies for big batch orders. Two-day old breads were turned into bread pudding or croutons that you sold. Extra cakes were turned into cake jars or cake pops. Leftover macarons were used as cake decor and so on. Cookies and cupcakes were your bestsellers.

“Does that mean I’m hired?” she asked and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you nodded. Out of all the applicants, it seems as though Max was the best one. You were happy you held out, Max seems responsible and intelligent. You were sure that you could rely on her. You told her about her salary which was more than what she thought she’d and she smiled. She could probably help with the bills at home and have enough for her allowance. “You start on Monday. The shop is usually closed on Sunday but Sundays are prep days. It’s the day I fix everything before another week. Saturday is inventory day, so I’ll show you that too. Just come here on Monday so we could start with training. Don’t worry, your training is paid. Just don’t forget to clock in and clock out. Standard working hours. Nine to five,”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll see you on Sunday at nine,”

You nodded and stood up. “Good to meet you, Max,” you said, shaking her hand.

“Nice meeting you too. Thank you, by the way,” she said, waving her hand goodbye before leaving.

Eddie was sure that coffee and wine would not mix well together. He walked inside your shop at 6:05 p.m., ignoring the ‘CLOSED’ sign. You emerged from the back room with a tray of coffee supplies when you smiled at him.

“Sorry, I was late. How was the rest of your day?” he asked, wine and bags of food in his hands.

“Good,” you nodded. “You were just in time. The last customer just left. Where do you want to have dinner? Here or in the backroom? You can come in, let me just set up the coffee bar, so we could start after eating,”

Eddie nodded, pushing the barricade open before setting the food in the backroom. Your backroom was so unlike the one in Family Video where he used to waste the day away. Yours was a professional culinary kitchen—commercial stand mixers, ovens, a big refrigerator, a freezer, an island and a sink in the center with bar stools on the side. The place was pristine—spotless, even. Everything was so modern and just amazing but it still felt homey. There was a small room deep into the back where he could peek a computer, bag, and a shelf of notebooks and cookbooks.

“Hi, sorry,” you said, wiping your hands on the apron before discarding it entirely in the bin. “I’m done! Let me just get our dessert,”

“Our dessert?” Eddie laughed. “I thought this was my treat,”

“I know but it wouldn’t hurt to have some creme brulee, right?” you asked before sitting in front of him. You watched Eddie take out the food that he got for you, Steve’s recommendations of risotto, ravioli, and prosciutto and arugula pizza. He also brought with him what looked like expensive wine. “I don’t have wine glasses for the both of us but I have these mugs,” you told him, showing him kitsch bunny mugs with strawberries and flowers.

“That’s fine with me,” he said. “Let’s eat?” Eddie couldn’t describe it but it felt like God was playing soulful piano somewhere in the universe for the two of you. There was a gentle smile as you helped yourself with a serving of everything; splitting the plates between the two of you. Eddie poured wine on your bunny mugs, completely comfortable silence blanketing the back room.

“I was so surprised when I heard your voice on the radio,” you told him. “I mean, always knew you’d make it out of Hawkins but I didn’t even know that you left. I just didn’t see you anymore when I came back,”

“What did you think?” Eddie asked. For some reason, he was so nervous about what you could possibly think of him and his band. Maybe because he wanted to impress you so much because you were the only person who was kind enough to listen to him and lend him a drawing pencil when he was sketching the logo for Hellfire Club.

“I always knew you could sing and I don’t like rock at all that much,” you said bluntly, swallowing a large gulp of wine. “But you made it likeable for me. I’m not really all that informed in music but I don’t know. I really like it,” you said. Maybe it was one of the best records you’ve heard because it was Eddie and in your eyes, Eddie could do no wrong; but in all honesty, it was good. “I’ve collected your albums since,”

“You did, huh?” he asked, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded shyly. “I have to at least support a fellow Hawkins citizen for patriotism and all that, right? Need an autograph to show my friends,” Eddie nodded and you fell into an easy conversation. This was probably the longest time that you’d ever spent with each other; save for when you both sat beside each other during your classes. He told you about the world; the places he’s been in and what life must have felt like for him. Eddie Munson was one who’d always seize the moment and capture an opportunity—it was how he got his success.

“I was drunk out of my mind in Malibu when this actress came to me and said that she would love to have a tattoo of some lame drawing that I had,” he said. “I was drunk but I was no quitter; so, I took out my tattoo gun and tattooed a lame flower with like, four petals on her thigh. She was pretty drunk too, I guess because she called me the morning after asking why she had an ugly tattoo on her thigh.” He laughed and you chuckled at his theatrics. You, on the other hand, were tied down to this place. You left Hawkins for five years and then came back because you were so comfortable in it. It was your home—rolling hills, crunch leaves, bikes, and living life in slow-motion.

“Wait, you were in New Jersey for a year?” Eddie asked. “That’s a short travel from New York. I would’ve visited you and we’d be the kids who saw something more outside Hawkins,”

“Yeah, but we never really stayed in touch or talked outside school,” you told him. “I was too busy chasing scholarships and college and everything else that I never really had time for friends or anything like that,”

“But it worked out well for the two of us, right?” he asked. “And well, we’re out of school now, maybe it’s time for the two of us to go way past cookies and small waves,” he said, leaning forward in the chair; closer to you.

“I guess so.” you said. “So, we’re friends now?”

“This is a friendly dinner, after all,” Eddie replied, a toothy grin decorating his handsome features. He’d be the death of you, you realized. The crush that you tried so hard to bury was back and bigger. It clawed in your chest like a monster asking for your attention. It warmed your heart and you were sure that a few more smiles that lit up the place would melt your heart; coating his hands like honey because of this sickly sweet feeling.

Maybe it was the coffee that Eddie tasted but he was laid in his bed, wide awake. His thoughts were racing at least a hundred miles per hour and he was so, so, so, convinced that it was coffee. Coffee that you made. It’s why he was thinking of you and of going back to your shop and asking for more or else he’d have withdrawals. Maybe it was the sugar rush from the custardy creme brulee. Maybe it was the vanilla smell that wafted in the air. Maybe it was John Coltrane’s My Favorite Things playing on the speakers. Maybe it was something else entirely but one thing was for sure, he has to see you again. He doesn’t know when but it has to be soon.

“Eddie, you’ve been smiling on your glass like a goddamn fool for minutes now,” Steve called. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, snapping back to reality. Robin and Steve sat across from him. He asked if they could all get together for drinks after work in his house and they both agreed.

“How was your friendly dinner?” Steve asked, a knowing smile on his lips. Robin’s eyes almost fell out of its sockets. Eddie Munson was dating?

“With who?” Robin asked, looking around for some clues when her eyes landed on a familiar box that looked entirely similar to the one she brought the other day. “Oh my God!”

“Right?” Steve asked, eyebrow raising. “He calls me during work hours and asks me for five star restaurants that serve take-out for a friendly dinner. Must’ve been so good for Eddie to smile like that at a glass of bourbon,”

“Shut it, Harrington,” he groaned, running a hand through his face. “I don’t know what this is yet, alright? But whatever it is you’re insinuating isn’t fucking real,”

“Okay, pretty boy. No need to get your panties in a twist,” Steve teased, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just make sure you get me some of the mini tres leches cake when you visit her next time,”

“You know, I heard from Nancy who heard it from Mike that Max was going to start working there on Sunday,” Robin said. “I don’t really know what to do with that information but you might, Eddie,”

“Nope,” Eddie said, shaking his head in artificial nonchalance. “Steve might,”

“Not me,” Steve said. “I’m not the one who called a friend for five-star lunch takeouts,” he replied, earning a laugh from Robin.

“Fuck you, Harrington. Your ass is grass when it’s your turn,” Eddie grumbled before downing his drink.

Turns out, Eddie knew exactly what to do with that information because on Saturday lunch, Eddie strolls around with the kids except for Max, who was busy extracting espresso.

“What can I help—“ Max greeted before seeing her friends. She groaned, they were her friends and she loves them but they could be a handful sometimes. It was even worse because Steve was there with his shiny credit card, telling everyone to get whatever they wanted. “Ugh, guys? Really? My workplace?”

“Eddie told us that he’d get us everything we wanted from this place,” Mike said. “And I’m not one to say no to grace,”

“Fine, what do you want?” Max asked, pulling out her paper and pen. She wrote their orders; coffees and an assortment of pastries for everyone.

“Get some for yourself too, Max,” Eddie replied. “Just swipe my card,”

“No, thanks. I get everything here for free. Employee’s perks,” she boasts. “If you’re looking for my boss, she’s currently outside with her friend having lunch,” She smirked at Eddie’s obvious disappointment. “Sorry, Eddie. If you want, I can pass her a message,”

“No, that’s fine,” Eddie said. “Hey, hey! Dustin, stop hitting Will!”

Max only laughed before swiping Eddie’s card and tending to the orders.

It was always chaotic when the kids all got together. Sure, they were probably as old as Eddie once was but in his eyes, the gang were still children. No amount of facial hair and genes would change that. He was busy talking to Dustin when he heard you laugh, and everything in his mind suddenly went thump, thump, thum, thump. Everything was suddenly even more chaotic than the party because why did Eddie suddenly close his mouth when he was in the middle of telling Dustin about his adventures? Dustin looked up to see what Eddie was pitifully looking at. You and another man. A friend? That’s what Max said, right?

“Eddie!” you greeted, a smile on your lips. “It’s nice to see you here,”

“Hey,” he smiled tightly, eyeing the man behind you. Was that your boyfriend? “Haven’t seen you in a while,”

“You saw me last week,” you replied. “But yeah, it’s been awhile. How are you?”

“Just taking the kids out for lunch,” he said. “Max apparently works here now too so, thought that it would be nice to visit,”

“Oh, yeah! Um, Max, you can take a break and hang out with them. I’ll take care of the rest, don’t worry,” you said, walking towards the cashier with Alex behind you.

“Are you sure?” Max asked and you assured her that it was fine. That it was her break time anyway. She smiled gratefully before stalking towards her friends with a croissant sandwich you made her last night. Eddie was preoccupied, distracted as he listened to Dustin complain about how hard it was to be away from his girlfriend. He was straining his ear to get some information on this guy you’re suddenly with.

“Hey, Alex, can you tend to the customer while I prepare the pick-up for today?” you asked.

“Sure,” was this asshole’s reply, as if you deserved a one-word reply.

“Thanks,” you smiled before disappearing into the backroom.

“What can I get for you today?” Alex asked, notepad and pen in hand. Eddie watched as Alex nodded, suggesting flavors and other products to a customer. This was what you probably wanted, right? You mentioned how you loved the slow-paced life in Hawkins. It was the reason why you returned, dreams and goals in hand.

“That’s Alex. They met in culinary school and he was in Indianapolis when he decided to come visit her in Hawkins,” Max said, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. “Don’t worry about him. They’re literally just friends,”

“I wasn’t asking,” was Eddie’s defensive reply, making Max frown.

“But I think he has a crush on her,” Max said, to get back at Eddie’s rude remark. She was just trying to help flesh out something that was so obvious. “I mean, who would drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins for lunch, right? He even got her stuff from his hometown. Stuff she said she misses but it’s not like you were asking, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded warily. “Not like I was asking,”

Eddie went back home that day, annoyed. It wasn’t because of Max’s snarky reply or anything. He just couldn’t place what it was. Maybe because he went there to see you and he didn’t. Or maybe he felt guilty. He didn’t know what it was but he was positive that there was something. Eddie knew that talking to Steve would probably result in some bullshit explanation like feelings. Steve was too much of a hopeless romantic to actually say a rational explanation for his troubles.

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned into his pillow before swiftly standing up. “What the hell,”

Eddie trudged down to the living room. Wayne was about to come home any minute now and he at least needed to prepare for dinner. He wasn’t the best cook so he decided to take his dear, old Uncle to a nice dinner in the city. Eddie looked around and a surge of gratefulness passed him. Who would’ve thought that Hawkins’ Freak would be able to afford a house for his uncle? That he could eat out three times a day, everyday and not think about how to pay for all of it? Who would’ve thought that he could afford things that seemed like literal lightyears away?

“Do you and Eddie have something?” Max asked, wiping the kitchen island. Alex, who was washing the trays, stilled and looked at you.

“Wait, that was Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson? Rockstar Eddie?” Alex asked. “The same Eddie that you’ve been pining for since middle school?” Now, Max didn’t mean to, but she struck gold. She saw how Eddie was giving Alex the stink eye. Sure, she lied but she got good results. The ends justify the means, after all.

“Alex!” you hissed from the pantry area. “You didn’t hear anything, Max,”

“Oh, I heard everything. You’ve been crushing on Eddie since middle school,” she teased.

“Looks like the feelings are reciprocated, I can feel his eyes burn holes on my body,” Alex added. “Does he know you’re single?”

“Why does it matter?” you asked, moving onto the chocolate chips.

“Because you like him,” Max said, an all-knowing tone in her voice. “And he probably likes you back too,”

“I agree with Red over here,” Alex said. “You have to tell me everything, Max. I won’t be here again after a long time but I expect a weekly newsletter all about her and Eddie Munson,”

“Oh, God,” you groaned. You were lucky that you were facing away from them because they would easily see how bashful you were being. ��You get together for a day and you’re all ganging up against me,”

“All towards the same goal,” Alex said. “How about we leave this place and have some Chinese food, huh? I’m sick of cleaning and quite frankly, I am not paid enough for this. Besides, it’s my last night,”

“Hey! I let you crash in my spare bedroom for free,” you complained.

“And I have to listen about your crush every night. So, really, I’m doing more work,” he countered. “Seriously, Red, we have to get her drunk tonight and you will see—he’s all she talks about. You know, when he first released his EP, she lined up at the record store to get it. I didn’t know why she suddenly wanted to listen to rock until I found out that Eddie Munson was the frontman of Corroded Coffin,”

“She’s still under twenty-one, Alex,” you reminded him. “What kind of boss would I be if I get drunk in front of my newbie?”

“I mean, Steve and Robin get drunk around us all the time,” Max said, shrugging slightly to show that she doesn’t care but she does. She really wants to see you talk about Eddie because you were so guarded especially when it came to your emotions. Sure, she felt at ease with you; welcoming smiles and warm words but she doesn’t know anything about you.

“See? It’s fine. Besides, it’s Sunday tomorrow. You deserve a hangover,”

“He said,” you hiccuped over bottles of beer and plates of Chinese food. “that he went to my graduation to congratulate me and say thank you for the cookies but I wasn’t in Hawkins anymore,”

“And then what?” Alex asked, equally drunk as you. Max had no way to go back home especially with two drunk adults in her presence but there were two things that she was sure of—one, you and Alex treated each other like siblings and two, you have a big crush on Eddie that you tried to bury.

“And then nothing,” you said, eyes clouded from the alcohol in your system. “We never talked again and he left Hawkins but we’re…” you tasted the word on your tongue, bitterness coating it and you weren’t sure if it was the shots of baijiu that you had or the word itself but either way, you found yourself reaching for the water to down it. “friends. We’re friends,”

“Eugh,” Alex expressed, an unpleasant look on his face. “That’s really…not cool. Hey, Maxie, what word is not cool?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said with a smile on her face. “Uncool?”

“Yeah, uncool. Not rad. Un-rad,” he said. “Oh, God, how are we going to take you home? Do you know how to drive?”

“No,” Max half-lied. Well, technically she knew the basics but after almost slamming Steve’s BMW into the curb, she decided to stay off the steering wheel and have someone drive. “I can call my friend, Lucas, and have him take us,”

“Oh, Lucas Sinclair?” you teased. “You’re out here—hiccup—teasing me when you have love problems of your own?” Alex looks at Max with a raised eyebrow.

“Now, who’s this Luke Sinclair and why do you know his home number?” Alex asked, an accusatory finger waving in the air.

“Guys!” Max scolded. “I’ll call him, okay? Don’t leave,”

“Okay, mom,” you both groaned before falling into messy laughter, finding it funny that you called your junior your mother.

“Hey, Eddie?” Lucas knocked. “Open up!”

Lucas hears a light jog towards the door that soon opened.

“What, Sinclair?” Eddie asked, a hand on his hip.

“Max called me and well, yourgirlfriendgotreallydrunk and now needs a ride home,” Lucas said. Eddie furrowed his brows.

“Wait, what? My girlfriend?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. Max’s boss? She told me that you’re her boyfriend and well, I know how to drive but my parents are not at home and therefore, I have no car and no way of getting there so I came here to ask if you can lend me your really, cool, brand new van so I can drive to where they are and get them home?” Lucas rambled, his hands doing all the work to convince Eddie.

“Fine, fine. Let me get the keys and you can sit shotgun,” Eddie said, disappearing into the house. “Big rockstar but still a fucking babysitter for these nutjobs,” he complained, meaning for Lucas to hear all of it but Lucas only chuckled.

You were laughing with Alex when you saw a familiar figure in a pair of Ray Bans and a hoodie. He followed who looked like Max’s boyfriend and you smiled.

“Hello, Max’s boyfriend!” you greeted, earning a look of horror from the redhead. Lucas was obviously thrown off guard, a stuttering mess before you.

“She’s not my-uh, girlfriend,” Lucas defended, earning a glare from Max. “But I’m with—“

“Edward, Edison, Eduardo?” Alex asked, raising from his hunched over figure.

“All right,” Eddie clapped his hands. “Let’s go. Up, up, up,” he commanded before walking to you. “You think you can walk to the van, sugar?” he asked and you looked at him, his eyes pleading.

“Brown sugar,” you mumbled. Eddie tilted his head to the side slightly, to ask you what you meant. “Your eyes shine like brown sugar.”

You groaned, the sun hitting your eyes. You had more than to drink last night and you were pretty sure you couldn’t remember anything. How you and Alex laid sprawled on the couch was a mystery but you had to call Max to check if she was okay. You could remember fragments of last night; calling Max ‘mom’, telling them about your stupid crush…Eddie. Oh, God. Eddie was there last night.

Your head pounded and you looked at your coffee table with two glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin for your headache. You reach for it, downing the glass of water with a tablet of the medicine before preparing a bowl of ice cold water to dunk your head into. Wiping your face with a paper towel after you were sure that you were somehow awake, you called Max’s phone number.

“Hello?” she asks from the other side.

“Hey, Max,” you said.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Munson,” she teased, making your face warm up. Somehow, that teasing brought everything back, ice cold water be damned.

“Max!” you groaned and she laughed. “I just wanted to call if you were okay? I’m sorry Alex and I got drunk last night,”

“Yeah, I’m good. Eddie and Lucas brought me back after we made sure that you were alright. It’s a good thing you gave me your address for emergencies. Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “My head hurts but it’s fine. Um, I’m really sorry for being irresponsible last night. I promise I’m not like that everytime I grab dinner. But yeah. Take the day off so you could rest,”

“Okay,” Max agreed. “Thank you. Call me if you need anything?”

“Sure, Max,” you said. “Alex is leaving today. I think he wants to say goodbye to you but I’ll make him drive to you instead. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Max replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The call ended and now you are thinking about your next set of problems—what did you say last night and did you embarrass yourself in front of Eddie Munson?

Eddie blushes at the sign of brown sugar, a bashful smile tugging on his lips.

“What’s gotten into you?” Wayne asked over breakfast. Eddie sighs happily and looks at his uncle.

“Nothing. Just…brown sugar is such a gift, huh?” Eddie asked. Reaching for the small jar of brown sugar for their coffee. Wayne looks at his nephew questioningly before going back to his breakfast. If breakfast meant Eddie talking nonsense, he’d rather have it in silence.

Eddie couldn’t forget last night. His eyes shone like brown sugar? That sounds like something right out of a love song. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—giggling at something Lucas said about irresponsible adults, head on Max’s shoulders, and you even touched him slightly on his shoulders when you saw him at the restaurant. Then, when he took you home, he saw the vinyl collection beside your television, all his records littering the area because it meant that you listened to his songs religiously. It didn’t help that you were smiling so prettily at him, so sweet and beautiful despite the chaos that Alex was causing in the backdrop. He had to look for a spare blanket but it was okay. You pouted when he tucked you in your couch but blew him a drunken kiss nonetheless. He was full-on grinning on the jar of brown sugar now, unbeknownst to him, his uncle was watching.

But what he couldn’t explain was how bright the stars were last night when you were leaning towards him closer, laughing at some stupid shit he said. How he always had to look for an excuse to come to your shop. How he doesn’t even have your number yet and how badly he wants to call you with no inhibitions and hesitations. He wanted them all and he didn’t care if he was being greedy. Christ, if he could put you in his pocket forever, he would.

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered. He’s caught the bug.

Sunday afternoon and Alex has left. You were in your shop alone, visibly stressed. Alex told you about how Eddie tucked you in and what the fuck—how were you supposed to recover from that? That only proved how sweet he really is. But it’s not like you needed any convincing. Eddie in high school was sweet to you but Eddie now was way sweeter and it was giving you such a rush.

You needed—really needed to be distracted with something else because this crush is clawing its way out, manifesting into more physical forms and you were scared that you wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore. Max caught on it quickly. You wanted to stay away from Eddie but how could you, really? He’s like a flame pulling you closer and closer. The sun to your Icarus until you fall.

Only, you were hoping that you stick your landing.

Lingering questions were stuck in his mind. If what he felt was true, would you accept him? What if he was reading in between the lines and that there was nothing actually there? Was he forcing something to happen? He couldn’t stop thinking about you; about high school, about the possibility of something happening.

“Steve, I’m telling you this girl…I just can’t fucking—I don’t know,” Eddie muttered. It was Sunday lunch with Steve. “It’s like, it’s like she’s all I think about and I’m not even sure what’s gotten into me,”

Steve Harrington was having a fun time watching his friend fall before him. He doesn’t even realize it and Steve won’t say anything. He’d rather bear witness to when Eddie’s eyes widen in shock, when the truth settles on him. So, rather than telling Eddie what he so desperately felt, Steve took a bite of his sandwich.

“Like, like, Alex was there, right? Her friend and I got so angry because he gave her a one-worded reply. The thing is, she doesn’t even deserve that. Yeah? Sure? Say your words big guy. You know? But I felt so stupid because when I got there last night, it was so obvious that they were only friends. Like, platonic with a capital ‘P’,” Eddie rambled. “And she’s always been so kind to me in high school. Way kinder that you ever were, by the way,” Eddie added, shooting Steve a pointed look.

“Cookies?”

“Not just cookies! She helped me whenever I got lost in a lesson, always pointing me to which part to read. Lent me her pencil and always gave me smiles. Like, who does that?” Eddie asked. “And last night, I was in her house and saw her vinyl collection. Corroded Coffin was littered, Steve. The EP was on the vinyl player itself. That must mean something right? But like, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being stupid,”

“Is that her?” Steve asked, looking at something in the distance. Eddie’s head whipped to where Steve was looking and you weren’t there. Steve, on the other hand, was laughing so loudly. There was nothing to look for, obviously. They were in an empty parking lot after all. It was obviously a ploy. “Eh, looked like her,”

“Fuck you, Harrington. I swear to God,” Eddie groaned, his head falling on his hands. This feeling was so unfamiliar for him and he doesn’t know how to fucking—process everything. Steve was obviously useless for the advice that he was trying to seek but he didn’t even know what he wanted from the boy right in front of him.

“Look,” Steve said, swallowing his food. “Maybe…just maybe, Eddie Munson has a crush,”

Eddie peeks from his caging hands and then looks at Eddie. Reality hits him like a bucket of ice cold water on his face. Steve watches in amusement when Eddie opens his mouth only to close it again. He can see the gears in Eddie’s head working, knees jumping at high speed.

“I need to smoke,” Eddie suddenly said, lighting a cigarette from his pocket. He needs something to calm him down because what the fuck—what Steve said made so much sense. He had a big crush on you and he felt so childish; like he was in middle school again because if there’s something Eddie wants, he’d do anything to fucking do it. If there’s someone Eddie wants, he’d do anything to make sure that all their attention was on him.

“Can’t believe it took you some advice from old Steve Harrington to realize your feelings,” Steve boasts. “But hey, best man, right?”

On Monday morning, Eddie found himself knocking on your shop’s glass door hours before you even opened. You looked up from your coffee and your newspaper, surprised. He smiled once your eyes settled on him and you felt that warm, fuzzy feeling again. How was this gorgeous boy giving his smiles away for free? You stood up from your chair and walked over to unlock the door.

“Sorry, we aren’t open yet,” you said but opening the door wider for him to enter.

“I know,” he replied. “I’m not here for the pastries. I’m actually here for you,”

And oh my, God. Maybe you suppressed that feeling before—successfully; but Eddie went out of his way to come here for you. That ought to rattle the cage of butterflies in your stomach, right?

“Really? What for?” you asked. “Can I interest you in some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I just came here to see you. No other reason,” he said, sitting on your chair and reading over the news. “But I just wanted to ask how you were? I hope you didn’t sport a bad hangover yesterday, sugar.”

You didn’t actually. A headache in the form of the unknown has come to haunt you instead. Alex was pestering you about Eddie all day and you still couldn’t remember what you said to him. You didn’t like knowing but you didn’t want to ask Eddie, either.

“Nothing bad, really. Max said you took us home? Thank you for that,” you smiled, sitting in front of him and reaching for your coffee. “Um, look, if I said anything embarrassing that night, please forget it. I didn’t mean it.” Eddie’s smile only got bigger, if anything.

“Sure,” he nodded. “You didn’t really say or do anything,” he lied. How could he tell you that brown sugar can put him on his knees now? That would be embarrassing now, would it? Besides, you can say what you like—drunk words are still sober thoughts.

“Thanks,” you said, nodding. “I have to thank you for it sometime.”

“Think of that as a payment for your cookies,” he said. “No need to owe me. Besides, is this friendship really built on favors?”

“No, of course not,” you said before thinking. “but Eddie, if you ever need anything, just don’t hesitate to ask me for it, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The same goes for you…Actually, I came here for something,”

“What is it?”

“I want to take you out on a date. Can I?” he asked. “Wait, hold on, bad wording. I would really, really love it if you’d let me take you out on a date. Would you let me?”

There it was. The question you’ve been dying for since high school. But how could you word that you were scared things would go well and he’d have to leave Hawkins and then you? That this was a big step for you because you wanted it so badly but you didn’t want to fuck it up because you really, really wanted Eddie Munson in your life forever? But what if this is your last chance to have a date with him? What if he finds someone more interesting than you and—

“Look, you don’t have to answer now,” he chuckled. “I can see the gears turning inside your head but just tell me, would there be like, a small sliver of ‘yes’ inside your head?”

“Yes,” you said without a second thought.

“Well, I’ll take that sliver of hope and have you focus on me until you say yes to our date,” he said; a statement bold and free of any doubts. Prepare to be sick of me,”

You were tired today. You had bespoke cake orders and God forbid, your client wanted to change everything last minute. Sure, she was willing to pay but the cake has been done. You didn’t have time and quite frankly, you were too stressed to even do anything. Maybe you’ll have cup ramen tonight. You didn’t even have the energy to wash the dishes.

You were on your way out to buy cup ramen at the nearest convenience store when Eddie jogs up to you. You looked at him, surprised. He could see the bags under your eyes and he just wanted to make it all go away.

“Hey, Eddie,” you smiled.

“Tired?” he asked and you nodded, scrunching your face in frustration; not wanting to let any of your anger out because what the fuck—that customer was so fucking rude to you for what? It was a long day and you just wanted to go home and curl up but no, she had the gall to demand good service because she was paying for it anyway. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. What happened?”

“I’m so tired,” you told him, visibly deflating and Eddie puts you on steady, hands on your arms. You lean into him and he accepts the close proximity. “Oh, God. Want to take a break for a while. Like, five minutes,”

Eddie nodded. “Do you want to go somewhere? Have you eaten?”

“No, I’m on my way to the store to get some cup ramen,” you admitted, hating the way you might seem to Eddie right now.

“No, that’s not going to happen,” he said. “Let’s go back in and I’ll order something for us, hm?”

“But the dishes…I have to clean the kitchen so I can start…”

“It’s okay. I’ll do the dishes while you rest before you do your big girl thing, okay? Let’s go back. Cup ramen won’t give you any nutritional value,” he says and you don’t hear any sort of chiding or mocking. He was genuinely concerned because you look so…drained. You allowed him to lead you back, his hand on the small of your back. You sat in silence as you listened to Eddie call for pizza.

“So, what happened today?” he asked, sitting beside you. He wasn’t teetering around anymore.

“There’s this customer and she’s like, I don’t know. Her husband is like a big time financial analyst and she asked me to bake a cake for her daughter. I did. I finished it, you know? Just like how she and I designed it. The birthday is tomorrow at noon and I’m not even halfway done with it. I can’t fuck up because I’m just starting my business and I’m so tired,” you choked, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “The kitchen is so fucking dirty and I’m not yet done. So behind schedule and I hate it,”

“It’s okay, honey,” Eddie smiles and you believe him. He had that effect on you. “After we have our meal, I’ll help you out to the best of my abilities. Won’t leave you until we’re both done,”

“Really?” you asked, peering up at him.

“Really, really,”

“Thank you, Eddie. I really appreciate it,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder in exhaustion. He lets you but he was praying that you couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating right now and you were praying for the same thing.

“I’m telling you. We had a moment,” Eddie said. “Like, she was so tired and she let me help her,”

“You’re so whipped,” Robin commented, scrunching her face in mock disgust.

“She laid her head on my shoulder. She made the first move and she said my eyes are like brown sugar.” Eddie shares. “Mark my words, Robin. I will be making her mine,”

“First of all, ew,” Robin said. “If there’s anything I learned in my gender class, women don’t belong to men. Okay? So, don’t say that and second of all, ew! We’ve been here in your house for like an hour and we haven’t heard anything other than your sweet, sweet girl,”

“You know what I mean,” Eddie said. “Steve knows what I mean,”

“Yeah but I’m having fun being single right now but yeah,” Steve nodded. “But…how sure are you that she’s into you?”

“I’m not sure but I can just like, feel it, you know?” Eddie asked.

“But you’re oblivious. You didn’t even give her a second thought back in high school,” Steve said but Eddie shook his head.

“You’re wrong,” Eddie replied. “This girl was the nicest to me. Of course, I’d remember her. It’s not like fear or disgust or anything. She’s just really…genuine.”

“Oh, God,” Robbin groaned. “You’re such a sap, Eddie.”

“Brown sugar, Robin! Come on, say it with me. Brown sugar,”

“Brown sugar.”

“Hello,” Eddie greets, leaning on your kitchen island. He has access to the back door now, that’s how close you’ve gotten since that night. Well, he was always there every night to help you out for prep work and orders. He’d wash the dirty trays, wipe the KitchenAid clean, and measure out ingredients. He’d help with the things that Max wasn’t able to finish too, surprising Max in the morning because who cleaned the nozzle for the espresso machine and why is everything refilled?

“Eddie,” you smile at him. It was another of those nights when Eddie decided to drop by. He’d always go in with a smile, sometimes with milkshakes and fries; sometimes with screw-top red wine. You didn’t mind at all—Eddie became a part of your daily routine somehow and he was always a joy to be around with. On his second night, you told him how he didn’t have to come back and help; that you were capable and he knows. He says he just wants to lift the weight off your shoulders. So, in your office, you keep a white board with the scribbling: Eddie’s Tasks. You thought Max didn’t notice it but with the big Corroded Coffin sticker on the corner begging for her attention, she did. Eddie checked his whiteboard, seeing that he only needed to mix your custom sprinkle mix. More blues than reds, less oranges than yellows, lots of pink, purple, and white. A little green. He watched as you silently worked on your station. He saw how you hid whatever you were making from him. He didn’t mind, he knows you’ll show it to him sometime.

“Eddie, can you do something for me, please? ” you asked. You felt bad for asking him for favors but this was something that you needed to do alone.

“Sure, sweetheart. What do you want?” he asked, shaking the big box of sprinkles.

“Can you come over here, please?” you asked sweetly and he found himself gravitating to you. You show him a tray of cookies he’s never seen before.

“A new flavor?” he asked. “Do you need me to take a taste test?” He picks up a cookie and you watch his reaction; his eyes doubling in size because these were so good. The best, even. “Wow, honey. I think this is the best one yet,”

“Really? I’m glad. I’m planning to give it to this boy I like,” you told him and he falters. “He’s in a band, likes red and black together. Do you think he’ll like it?”

Eddie caught on, pursing his lips.

“Yeah, of course. He’d be a fool not to,”

“Hey, Eddie, I made these for you,” you admitted and Eddie could feel himself blushing. “Red and black cookies. Do you think Corroded Coffin Cookies sound nice?”

“It does but you might have to take it up to the intellectual property office for a trademark,” he jests and you laugh.

“I’m glad I don’t have to do any of that, then. It’s for you only.” you said, emphasizing the word.

“Made this for me? All for me?” he asked, his body trapping you on the counter. Both of his arms were on either side of your body and you put the tray away carefully. Closer and closer.

“Yeah. 62% and 72% dark chocolate couverture, smoked flakey salt, raspberry sauce, and freeze dried strawberries.” you said. You look up at him to kiss his cheek and he laughs, not sure what to do. Is this really real?

“Thank you, darling,” he said, voice deeper and softer. “How can I repay you?”

“How about you take me out on that date?” A/N: Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think! I have a universe all laid out for Steve’s story too. There will be a part two and Steve’s story but that really depends on the response on this fic (aka if it flops or not hehe).

TAGLIST: @rayodesol97 @moistmocca @munsonology @sadbitchfangirl @bebe0701 @tayhar811 @aol19 @eddiesprincess86 @undeadgirlsworld @rosemarythl @rosemary_thl @eddiethesexy @sister-cirice @weaslyslut01 @himynameisjeff @captainweirdo42 @alyisdead

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #stranger things

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uloelu · 8 months

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🖼️ Jordyn Padgett 🖼️

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Ethnicity: Irish and Black British (Simlish)

Traits: Snob, Sporty, Art Lover (custom traits)

Age: 24 (young adult)

Current world: San Myshuno

Likes: Writing, wellness, mixology, media production, fitness, skiing, dancing, painting, photography, red, black, white, yellow, brown, classical music, new age music, hip hop, preppy and polished fashion, discussing interests, deep thoughts, stories, idealist Sims,

Dislikes: Handiness, gardening, cross-stitch, cottage-core and pop music, nature enthusiasts, basics and country fashion, gossip, small talk

Potential Profile

Jordyn Padgett (she/her) spent 18 long Sim years in her sleepy farming hometown of Henford-on-Bagley. As soon as she was able, she fled to the bustling city of San Myshuno, rooming with 3 other Sims in the Fashion District. One of those Sims was a woman by the name of Penelope Puri (Penny Pizzazz by default), a Simfluencer who skyrocketed to stardom through her videos reviewing celeb style fails and budding fashion trends. Penelope taught Jordyn the tricks of her trade, and now Jordyn has a following of her own--though she only makes content related to movies, TV, and the art world. Her ultimate goal is to become a world-renowned art critic, attending shows/ galleries around the world and leaving her mark on the industry. She knows she'll have to compete with the juggernaut that is Diego Lobo, but she greatly admires him and hopes they can collaborate one day.

She likes to go out and have fun, but Jordyn isn't a huge party animal. She's just as likely to prefer a night in with Netflix to a night out at a bustling bar. She's got a tight-knit group of friends with eclectic interests, and she prefers it that way. Jordyn has been on her fair share of dates with guys, but it's only recently that she realized her lack of attraction to them. Though she's not out to anyone, she's excited to explore her newfound identity as a lesbian.

Jordyn cares greatly about her health and personal style. She's seen enough denim and overalls to last her a lifetime--it's high quality clothing only from here on out. When she's not working or hanging out with her friends, you can find her shopping online, at a yoga studio, or a gym. Jordyn wishes she could eat healthier, but her notorious sweet tooth prevents her from cutting sugar out of her life altogether. She doesn't do dieting, either--she believes it can lead to unhealthy relationships with food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this off-the-cuff profile! I'm thinking of creating roommates for her. Let me know if you'd like me to post them as well!

(Note: I don't currently own the Cottage Living EP [that or Cats and Dogs, Horse Ranch, and For Rent]. I'm trying to see if I can find a coupon/cheaper way to purchase it, but if not, I'll have to wait until the next sale. I'm not paying EA 40 whole United States Dollars for just one pack lmao. So if I make Jordyn available for upload before then, just be aware that she'll be missing those official aspects of her backstory. Sorry about that!)

#the sims 4 #my sims #ts4 #simblr #sims #sims community #the sims #the sims community #showusyoursims #sims 4 #sims profiles #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 cas

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lawlietscaramels · 8 months

Text

Watch Over Me ╾ Light ft L

Inspired by @dominote 's LawLight art with L as a ghost. AA I hope you don't mind the tag :)

Spoilers, though I kind of assume everyone knows what happens. ep 25 I think.

Formatted for reading on mobile.

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

Are you still there, L?

Light finds himself asking this question near constantly. When a door creaks; when it's a little cold; when the wind howls, broken, outside his window, condemning his empty soul inside.

He never used to be superstitious.

But now, as he stirs his coffee with a silver spoon, he wishes L would answer.

He wishes something would happen.

He wishes L was still there.

Make another move.

Light didn't expect to be so bored without L around. More than that, empty. Hollow. Sure, he still has his duty to fulfil, but without an archnemesis it is just that: a duty. Not a challenge. Not a goal or aspiration.

　Duty.

So as he stirs his coffee and Aizawa and his father talk about their families, Light lets himself look for a sign. For a ghost. For a man whose fingers wrap around the bottom of his shirt and whose toes curl into the floor.

Light holds his breath.

The world holds its breath.

　Shhh. 　Quiet. Listen.

Are you watching? Are you listening?

And then Light exhales, because there is nobody and nothing there.

Nobody and nothing.

It's cold and it's blue and it's hollow and there's nobody and nothing worth fighting for or against any more. He has won. He has lost everything.

Is it really over, if it's only over when you're not here to see it?

Light lifts his spoon and stares at his own eye. Wishing he could change the angle and a grey one would be staring back.

He drops the spoon with a cold blue clatter.

　No. No, it's not.

He hated L. He really did.

But Light wants him back, wants L to be the one adding ungodly amounts of sugar to his coffee.

Light is God.

　　　　　　　　　　　Light is God?

　　What God needs an L?

His heart was made of GoLd.

But now it's cold and it's blue and it's dark and damp and hollow. What God needs a friend? But all Gods need a Satan.

You can't climb a mountain without a mountain.

　　　　　　　It's cold and it's blue.

　And Light's lonely.

Are you still there, L?

The silence is blue. Light's head is spinning out, trapped in red threads, connected to something that is no longer there.

The screens cast blue shadows and lights.

Shadows that flicker and shadows that curl into the floor.

　　　　　　Are you?

Light turns his back to the cold midnight outside and watches the blue silence in the shadows.

His fingers wrap around the bottom of his mug and his eyebrows furrow.

He stares at the reflection of his own brown eye in the brown coffee. He wishes he could change the angle and see a grey one staring back.

But there's nothing but a cold blue sigh of air.

　Please do something for me.

It hurts to ask something like this. Hurts to admit he wants to ask. Hurts more to admit he wishes, he believes that there is someone there to answer.

　Watch over me.

Light organises the files in the Task Force drawers.

　As I take an empty victory from your cold grave.

He takes his coffee

and pours the remnants down the sink

brown

　　splashes over　　and

　dirties the grey

As I rule a world without you in it.

　 walks up

　　　　　　 the stairs

The stairs with a pattern of

　cold blue

As I fall apart and as I rise.

Light tucks himself into a bed covered with

　red thread

　and cries himself to a cold, blue, empty sleep.

　　　Please, watch over me tonight.

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

maybe someday I'll write how L would act if he was alive at the end of the Kira case and Light wasn't. maybe I'll make this into a series or fic or something...

©lawlietscaramels. Do not repost on other sites, claim as your own work, edit, rewrite or “fix,” feed to AI or otherwise use unethically.

#i like LawLight in a 'our souls are connected and there's nothing we can fucking do about it' way #not really a '(i hate that) i love you' way #death note #l lawliet #light yagami #angst #lawlight #lei writes #writing #writers on tumblr #drabble #quick read #short #sad #dn #l death note #red thread of fate

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kiestrokes · 1 year

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kie!! i’m in love with doom 🥺 [attention all others, doom at your service spoilers ahead]

i saw the kiss you were talking about, the kiss oh gosh i m e l t e d. the way she asks him to love her and he just smirks with his cute lil no and you can actually see the words fuck it flash in his mind before he goes in 🥵 ugh it was satisfying. and the kiss when she’s about to wish her loved ones forget her after she dies (ok i would have kissed her too, my heart broke for her) 🥺 oh and you know when he’s on his couch with his hand over his face and she just stares at him. and he turns to look at her directly. why was that so incredibly hot?? was it just me?? idk why but the over the top sexual stuff is never… how should i phrase this… like it’s never butterflies-inducing or heart fluttering? for me at least. for me, its the way he always holds her hand 🥺 or the way he looks at her 🥺 or the way he said she doesnt need a wish to make him fall in love with her 💔💔💔💔 and it doesn’t hurt that he’s exactly my type, an annoyingly smug brat with a questionable past and a heart of gold 🫢😘

i’m only on ep 9 and i just know this is going to end with me in a pile of tears on the floor. he keeps saying he’s gonna save her. which is possible, but what about him? what will happen to them? or her brother? what what what 😭😭😭 im scared

and the side story of jina and jooik and hyungyu!! i feel like it’s just getting started but i’ve seen enough of jina and jooik to be team jooik lol he’s adorable in a mr darcy sort of way. he seems incredibly kind and i feel like they’d be so cute together (and i mean, jina is pretty much elizabeth anyway)

ok now that i’ve rambled on and on, i shall be off 🫡 i hope you’re having a wonderful week, darling 😘💕

This man Lo, he could have anything (might contain spoilers)

Seo In Guk is so fucking adorable, like who allowed this to happen?

why is all of him incredibly hot? And not in the typical cringe “he’s so hot -flips hair-“ way, he’s hot like the darkest embers of a fire. It creeps up on you. like A+++ to the stylist's man. his attire was 🤤

YESSS the build is truly so much more fist bite worthy. it's basically romantic foreplay. the little touches, the glances, the smirks, the laughs, the teasing. give me it all. his hand holding obsession makes me fucking 🫠 tell me that’s not Min Yoongi.

Her asking to forget her loved ones hit me in my core, I’m pretty sure I cried.

-sips brown sugar latte- have you seen Tale of the Nine Tailed 👀 because their plot lines are v similar. Although I found TotNT more dramatic, in a good way. Like I actually fucking cried during that drama. A couple times.

HOMIE this side story was EVERYTHING. I want a side drama of just them. I want to see Jooik PINE for her while she dates his best friend. This side story had so much depth to it. Not just to characters thrown together so that everyone ends up dating 🙄 I adore Kang Taeoh but Lee Soohyuk steals the show with his ethereal beauty.

I also really love that “God” is a young woman in this 👏🏼

I hope you had a wonderful week too bby!

#the kook to my nam #😘#doom at your service #kdrama #kie.tv

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khaopybara · 7 months

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Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice: A Guide with Sand Pt. 2

Updated!

Leather Jacket: 8 (+4) Brown Jacket: 8 (+3) Black Jacket: 4 (+2) Band Tees: ∞

FIRST KANAPHAN as SAND ( ONLY FRIENDS EPS. 7-12 )

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m0thkiller · 1 year

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i usually don't do tag games but they've tagged me a couple times now and i meant to n never got around to it tagged by: @type6reverb last song: Femtanyl - GIRL HELL 1999. Femtanyl fucking SLAPS i've got the whole Chaser EP saved directly in my phones files so i can put it on while i'm out without fucking around with premium apps or paying in cell data.

youtube

favorite color: changes. anything in a light pastel is good but i really light faded greens or yellows or purples specifically. especially when an accent to some darker even more muted color

currently watching: nothing, i don't rlly do TV shows and none of the internet ones really interest me

last movie: the first half of Dune, was hanging out with a friend before work the other day and while i was there we had it on for background noise (we've all seen it so didn't rlly care that wed miss most of it)

currently reading: Basic Principles of Marxism-Leninism: A Primer by Jo Ma Sison. my bf bought me a couple of foundational theory books and we read quotations of mao together and this is one of em i chew on every couple of days (i'm a very slow reader) sweet/spicy/savory: all three at once, kimchi ramen with brown sugar is simply the best food no questions, pack it up boys it don't get better than this relationship status: mono with my boyfriend, pettybourgeoisculturalreform. reaching heresoon the 8 month mark i think. we live several hours away so we don't get to see each other as often as we want but love leaps all barriers current obsession: between fixations at the moment. I just made a new blorbo for a SWRPG campaign coming up but that's like a year away

last thing i googled: see next question currently working on: my bfs birthday is coming up and im making *something* for him but i have to keep it a secret for now because he'll see this post :3

#tag game #not gonna tag anyone else cuz id feel weird poking anyone else on here #Youtube

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komorebi-art-blog · 5 months

Note

What about next:

Troll

Ep. 1 storyline and script

Congratulations, you've found more original kids! “Troll” is an early sketch with the main character in my story. Not much context around this particular wip, but I've almost finished his reference, so you'll likely see more of this dude soon.

Aaaaaaand Ep. 1 storyline and script is...something. I have some plans for video games in the future, so one day I decided to try to start learning about it, and I realized that visual novels have the lowest threshold for entry into games. And for my first project, I chose our Star Wars au story, which in many ways is already thought out, but still needs a lot of work to become a real story. Mostly I'm just testing the waters and learning how to write plot and characters, plus working with design and drawing. I need to get myself together and start working hard on this, you'll definitely see more content with this.

For now, here's a little spoiler from the current version of the prologue to the story. The format is a bit odd because the text is meant to be a visual novel. And yes, these guys are the main characters!

"A figure appears in the semi-darkness of the kitchen." "White armor with worn green paint peeks out from under a dark brown civilian cloak like snowdrops. Even the shapeless cape does not hide the military bearing." "The clone pours a cup of caf with three sugar cubes. He sits down on the sofa in the lounge area and tries to drink as much as possible, looking at the chronometer. "At one minute to eight, he puts the cup under the table, tries to fix his overgrown curls, straightens the pose." "He tries to steady his breath as he switches on the holoprojector with trembling fingers.A few seconds later, a small hologram of a clone in the first phase white armor appears in front of him." d "Bites. I was wondering if you'd contact me today." b "Sorry, Dovecote, got into trouble last night. What's the news?" d "Nothing much. The Senate is preparing cuts again. The guys on Coruscant stole a bunch of flamethrower armor from the Republic warehouse, it was fun." d "Other than that, we're in a lull right now. Hawk is hanging out with the senators, and Fulcrum is nowhere to be seen. I think the big guys are up to something." b "They're always up to something." "Bites waits, stiff, like a shiny in formation. Kriff, this is embarrassing." d "Fox is up to something, that's for sure. We have discovered alarming statistics in the slave market." d "According to our data, a large number of clone slaves end up in the same hands. A very large number. We're talking battalions. Maybe even regiments." "Good thing he's not drinking caf right now, he'd choke." "No karking way someone is buying hundreds of clones. Thousands even..."

#wip game #tim #star wars #something big is coming!

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moononmyfloor · 2 years

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Lǎobǎn's Recipes

(From the ending credits of 2017 Chinese drama adaptation of Midnight Diner: 深夜食堂)

Ep 34: Twice-cooked Pork

Take streaky pork and boil well, then slice thinly.

Cut hot pepper and garlic sprouts to pieces. Slice garlic and ginger thinly.

Stir-fry the pork slices in hot oil until they are browned and set aside. In the same oil saute garlic slices and ginger until fragrant. Add spicy bean paste, rock sugar, water or stock. Then add meat slices again and stir fry on high heat.

Then add chili and garlic sprout pieces and stir fry till the liquid dries up. Pour in Shaoxing wine and cook over high heat and finish.

More Recipes

#深夜食堂 #Lǎobǎn's Recipes #Midnight Diner #Midnight Diner ep 34 #Food #Recipes #Twice-cooked Pork #Twice cooked pork #Boss's Recipes

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 months

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ep 4. hey, you alright? | myj, jjk

sugar, spice, and everything nice ep 4. hey, you alright?

pairing(s): yoonji x reader x jungkook

summary: After encountering Jeon Jungkook's fuckbuddy on the train, Min Yoonji is in shambles. In shambles, but determined to do something about it. Doing nothing will only further the distance between her and one of her best friends. Yoonji figures she can throw a party, get him alone, and talk it out. And it works... sort of.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; pan!f!reader; pan!Yoonji; internalized homophobia; gay panic; ft OT6 (Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook come to Yoonji's place for games and grub); minor alcohol consumption; f/f/m love triangle confessions (!!!); non-idol!AU - Yoonji's POV

This was the worst.

Not that Min Yoonji was the doomsday type – well, maybe – but, fuck, this was the worst. She knew she couldn’t let it go on like this. Just get over it. It was impossible. No, she had lived long enough to know it would be a terrible idea to avoid it any longer. Against better judgement, she needed to know. Just pretend. Absolutely not. Lying was out of the question. Not after that prolonged eye contact in the semi-darkness in front of the bath house. That warm hand holding her hand. I can’t lie to those eyes. But then there was also…

Anyway, she had to do something.

And so, she hosted a party.

That was making it sound more than it was. It was more of a mild get-together. Yoonji brought another pack of cold beers to her coffee table, calmly placing them against the snacks as her living room erupted with cheers from three guys. She collected the empty cans and spared a look at the chaos. Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook were bouncing around in a circle, excited at the goal scored. Funnily enough, they were all dressed true to their personalities – Jimin in a neatly fitted sky blue sweater and dark jeans, Taehyung in a white t-shirt and loose brown pants, Jungkook in all black fit. A hoodie and cargo pants.

She had invited them all over to watch Team Korea’s match this evening.

Kim Seokjin hadn’t been able to make it due to work commitments. That handsome guy had an early call time for his latest movie shoot, which was understandable. He had been disappointed, because it was quite rare for Yoonji to host, and he had childishly complained about not getting the good treatment. That was Seokjin’s own way of expressing that he missed them. Yoonji missed him too, as he was the only one older than her, and, although she could never trust Seokjin during the apocalypse, she did appreciate that he always helped out with cooking and cleaning.

Seokjin also understood her, innately, and naturally overtook duties when she was wearing out.

She headed back to the kitchen. Yoonji didn’t host often because it was a social commitment that would last several hours, and her introverted self had limits. She did, however, enjoy watching sports, especially basketball. Football was also up there, bumped onto a slightly lower tier because, well, the black-and-white ball smacking into the net wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the swish of orange. Anyway, she was glad they could all come, even if it was noisy.

“Ah, glad I didn’t come back to a burnt stove or a chopped-off finger.”

“Oi!”

Kim Namjoon made a face at her from above the onion. The way the tall, built man was clutching the knife was slightly concerning. Yoonji prodded over and fixed his hand positioning on the handle, shaking her head. Namjoon frowned. Comical for such a stern-looking face. Yoonji pointed to his light-colored sweatshirt.

“How did you get onion juice on you already?”

Namjoon looked down, his eyes widening, his deep voice annoyed. “What? Aw, shit!”

She didn’t know why such a clumsy guy had chosen a matching cream sweat set to wear. The world was full of mysteries. “I’ll ask Jimin to help,” she sighed exaggeratedly.

“Hah, noona, come on. I can at least cut an onion.” Namjon pouted. Now that was hilarious for a man almost two meters all. “Let the young ones have fun. Have some faith in me.”

With a wave of her hand, Yoonji made a disgruntled noise and turned away, already feeling the prickling of irritation at the corners of her eyes from the half-chopped onion. She would have overtaken onion duty if she didn’t go blind while doing it. Damn onions for being natural bioweapons. She began to prep the carrots instead.

“Don’t let year fourteen of knowing you be the last year.”

“Noona…”

Still, she laughed under her breath. “Thanks for helping me with dinner.”

“I don’t know if I’ve actually helped yet,” Namjoon muttered, chopping very slowly.

She wanted to say something, but she found herself silent and going through the motions, swiftly slicing up the carrots and cabbage. Occasionally Jimin with his neatly parted hair and concerned face would pop into the kitchen, asking if he could help, and Yoonji would wave him away. Then, moments later, Taehyung would inevitably stick his nose into the kitchen after his bathroom break, his permed dark brown curls sticking up in every direction, peeking into the oven to see the crisping meat, and Yoonji would shoo him away too.

Jungkook only stopped by once.

“You two okay? I can help make ramyeon.”

Maybe it was just her imagination, but his voice sounded more timid than usual. She would usually raise her head and scold him. This time, Yoonji kept her eyes on the simmering pot and kept stirring.

“We’re fine. Go sit down,” she said to the noodles.

“Ah… Okay.”

Once she heard him moving away from the kitchen, she let out a contained breath. Namjoon came up beside her, holding the bowls of sliced carrot, onion, and cabbage. The poor onion looked as if it had been through a woodchipper. Meh, no one will even notice once it is all mixed in. Minced was an understatement.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Hm?” Yoonji answered absentmindedly, taking the bowls and gesturing to the carton of eggs on the kitchen counter.

The tall male went over to fetch them, sending her a searching look. “You were a pretty blunt just now.”

She paused slightly. “Ah… I was distracted.” She waited a moment and turned off the heat, ready to drain the noodles.

“I can’t help but feel that you’ve been a bit cold to Jungkook today.”

The hot steam shot up as Yoonji poured the water into the sink, carefully using chopsticks to hold back the bulk of the noodles. She sensed Namjoon backing up, probably due to the clouding of his glasses. She took the moment to reflect. Yes, that was one of the reasons for today, to figure out if she was okay in Jungkook’s presence. To test if she was, well, normal. To stop running away.

It was… going well.

“Did something happen?” he gently asked. “We can always talk later.”

“I…”

She turned around to see a frowning Kim Namjoon. He looked like a worried Great Dane with his great height and presence.

“Ahah, no, it’s nothing like that,” Yoonji sighed, giving up. “It’s a small misunderstanding. I was going to ask him to stay back a little tonight and talk about it. You know how it is for me. When people ask me to talk one-on-one, I’m a lot more comfortable. When I have to initiate, I have to make a lot of effort.”

He nodded, understanding. “Oh, I see. That’s good. It’s been a while since just you and Jungkook hung out. He mentioned recently that he missed drinking at your place.”

She felt her cheeks warm. It was probably the steam of the noodles as she was transferring them to a metal bowl. She began to pour in packets of sauce and adding additional seasonings. “Oh.” Her hands moved quickly as her mind slowed down, noisily clacking the chopsticks to evenly coat the noodles. “I didn’t realize it’s been a while.” Or that he noticed.

Namjoon’s hooded gaze lowered, bending down slightly to keep eye contact. “You seem a bit withdrawn lately. Work going well? Or is it something else?”

She tried to laugh it off, but only just. “Work’s fine. Busy, but fine.”

“Creative block?”

Yoonji thought back to her lyric notebook, the pages crumpled, covered in scribbled confessions and confused fantasies that she desperately wanted to scream to the world, yet couldn’t. “Hm, you’re probably right about that.”

Her longtime friend nodded, his glasses and buzzcut making him look like a sage-like chestnut. “Yeah, that makes sense. My door is always open.”

She chuckled. “My experiments are a bit too childish for a professional.”

Namjoon made a face. “Don’t be like that. Even if you only want it to be a hobby like you said, you’re talented at making music, Yoonji-noona. I’ve always said that.”

“Haha, thank you.” She finished the ramyeon and added some cheese on top. She began to sauté the vegetables to add as a side dish, along with kimchi. “How about you? Working on anything new?”

“Hmm, finishing up some master mixes.” Namjoon was a music producer at an entertainment company. Probably what Yoonji would have done in another life, if she was braver. “Doing some experiments of my own now that I have time. I’ve recently begun to focus more on delivering those pure, closed-off feelings in my latest project, even if it pains me to do so.”

She flicked the pan, distributing the mix evenly. “Oh? How cool of you.”

“Ah, I don’t know of it’s cool or pathetic.” He sounded sheepish.

“It’s not pathetic to talk about painful things, Namjoon-ah. We all go through such things.”

A deep, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah… Haha, you’re right. I’m only having a little trouble because I want it to be simpler, but my own poeticism is getting in the way. If I’m allowed to talk about myself like that.”

With a hum, Yoonji wholeheartedly agreed. “You’ve always had a way with words.”

He sounded distant, as if he was talking to himself.

“Not a way with love, though.”

If there was a way to figure this out alone, Yoonji would have gone that route. If there was a way to stay silent and watch it work itself out, she would have let it happen. The answer wasn’t that simple, and so she found herself surrounded by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook, the two who hung back to clean up after the chaos. Kim Taehyung had wanted to stay behind, but he offered to take Kim Namjoon home instead, who had passed out at some point. A testament to his long nights lately, she was sure, and Taehyung lived the closest to him. Jimin had dragged Jungkook to help him, not that the youngest needed to be ordered about. They had a textbook older-brother-younger-brother relationship complete with meaningless bickering.

“Take out the trash.”

“No, you.”

“You’re stronger!”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with anything!”

Yoonji simply shook her head and let them fight, watching Jimin carry the recycling out while Jungkook grabbed the trash bag. It wasn’t necessary, but it did save her the trip of carrying it all herself. She wiped down the kitchen counters as the last step. Waited a moment. Soon enough Jimin came back, ready to wash his hands before heading out. Yoonji frowned.

“Where’s the kid?”

Jimin stuck his tongue out. “I made him sort the recycling.”

“Hah… I should have gone with you two.”

He huffed. “He can handle it.” Those swift dark eyes shifted from the soap to her face. He rinsed them off as he added, “I wanted a word with you, anyway.”

She felt her frown deepen. “Hm?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jimin said softly, drying his hands on the spare towel. “It seems like… You’re having a hard time, maybe?”

A muscle in her eye twitched. Fuck, am I that obvious? “What?”

He straightened he sleeves of his sky-blue sweater. “Ah, come on, noona. We’ve known each other for a long time,” he chided, punching her shoulder lightly. She shot him a look and Jimin held up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, I get it. Just…” His arms lowered slowly. He smiled, as he did when nervous. “I’m totally useless when it comes to problem solving, but I can listen. I have ears.”

Yoonji narrowed her eyes. “Hm, they’re kinda small. Like the rest of you.”

The little angel flared. “Hey! I’m not–”

She waved away his words with an impatient hand. “It’s not like I don’t get down sometimes. I’m human. Anyway, why do you think I asked you guys if you wanted to come over? I simply needed some human interaction. That’s all.”

Jimin softened. “Ah. Yeah, makes sense.”

They shared a beat of silence.

He was still giving her a strange look of knitted brows and upturned lips. She raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. And then Yoonji got it. Oh. Jimin seemed to catch on, too, that she finally understood what he had been hinting at. They had, after all, known each other for a long time. He had only learned of the very low lows after the fact, but the concern was valid. She shook her head.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she assured him.

He seemed relieved.

“That’s good then.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Jungkook burst into the apartment, looking pissed off.

“Park Jimin, you linthead, why would you–”

Insulting Jimin’s hair was a surefire way to get a fiery response. However, the youngest cut off mid-sentence, wide-eyed once he noticed the closeness between Jimin and Yoonji. She locked eyes with big, brown ones. An irrational guilt squeezed inside her ribcage to the point of crushing. There was a moment too long of frozen silence, and then she smacked her palms into Jimin’s chest, sending him stumbling back with a surprised yelp.

“Aah!”

Both Yoonji and Jungkook watched as Jimin nearly crashed into the kitchen island, catching himself with one hand. He reoriented himself and sent Yoonji a startled look. A split second to decide to look away or glare back. She frowned and crossed her arms. Jimin seemed taken aback.

Jungkook said nothing.

The front door closed behind him with a squeak and a click.

“The fuck…?”

Jimin looked hurt.

She felt the tops of her cheeks warm. “Sorry, I…” She found that she couldn’t look at Jungkook so instead she reached out and held out her hand to Jimin. And lied. “The moment reminded me of a bad situation I was in the past. Really shitty déjà vu. Not your fault. I reacted badly. I’m sorry.”

He accepted her apology right away, taking her hand to lift himself up. “Oh.” He looked empathetic. It made her feel even guiltier. “That’s okay.” He was about to say something else but Yoonji patted his hand.

“You should have helped him.”

“Jungkookie’s a big boy,” Jimin teased, letting go of her hand. “Right, kid?”

She couldn’t help but feel a loss of safety at the action.

The youngest puffed a cheek. At least, that was what she heard. “Stop acting like you’re so much older.”

“Oh, as if you aren’t hitching a ride with me,” Jimin tutted, walking up to that big chest and pulling out his keys. “I gotta babysit the baby, noona.”

“Actually, uh…”

She finally raised her head to see Jimin and Jungkook staring back at her like two meerkats on the lookout. One in blue and one in black. An uncomfortable thump-thump tittered in her chest when she made eye contact with the one in black. Deep breath. “Actually, can you stay back for a bit, Jungkook? I want to ask you something. I’ll pay for a ride home for you.”

Something flickered in those dark brown eyes.

Yoonji tried not to bite her lip in nervousness.

Then, Jungkook huffed and poked Jimin in the chest. “Go babysit yourself, shorty. I have to go wash my hands because of you.” He stepped around Jimin, kicking off his shoes and heading towards the guest bathroom. “I was gonna call my friend to pick me up, anyway.”

“Your girlfriend?” Jimin snickered.

“Shut up.”

And, perhaps for the most fleeting of seconds, Jungkook caught Yoonji’s gaze.

They shared a stilled breath of silence.

Then he moved out of sight and yelled, from the bathroom. “Get out, Jimin-ssi!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Can you believe this guy? Acting like he owns the place.”

Yoonji smiled, feeling somewhere between relief and panic. “Thanks for helping me clean up.”

“Anytime, anytime.” Jimin slipped into his loafers and saluted her. “I leave the baby in your capable hands. Call me if he whines.”

She was about to say something related to that, but then Yoonji stopped, holding the door for Jimin.

“I’m sorry, again, for pushing you like that.”

He shook his head. “Hey, I get it. It was instinctive.” Jimin smiled, then reached out to give her a small hug. She returned it, feeling remorseful. He let go and beamed at her. “I know you’ll hate hearing this, but even if you’re older than me, noona, I still feel the need to protect you. Even if you don’t want me to. Me and the guys are your safety net, okay?”

She made a face and tried not to cringe. “Ew.”

Jimin grinned, making his eyes disappear.

“Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love ya. Go away before I vomit. Bye.”

She shut the door and held her breath.

I can’t do this.

She couldn’t blow all this up.

Implode everything for… for what? She almost wished she hadn’t talked to Jimin like that. It only reminded her of what she could lose if she opened her mouth. She leaned against the door. Exhaled heavily. She didn’t have to say anything. Fuck, was she not the older one? The more mature one? The one to take some damn responsibility? She was making a mistake. It was time to tell Jungkook to go home. She turned around, intending to go into the living room.

The door to the guest bathroom opened.

Jeon Jungkook stepped out, looking worn out as if he too he just lost his own internal battle.

His black hair was a bit damp, like he had splashed his face and pushed his bangs back. Wet strands drifted against his forehead. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing one tattooed, muscular forearm and one equally defined, un-inked one. He ran his hand through his hair again, his head turning, searching in the stillness.

Yoonji paused.

The youngest of her friends stopped too, realizing they were alone.

He had such a handsome face, truly.

She cleared her throat a bit and started shuffling to the living room.

“You, uh, should call your friend.”

The words felt as if they were burning her throat as she said them.

Jungkook hesitated, then followed. “Didn’t you want to ask me something?”

She pointed to the couch. He obediently plopped down. She stared at him for a second, faltered, and backed away.

“Ah, on second thought, it’s nothing,” she forced herself to say.

Those large eyes followed her movement. Yoonji told herself to run. Then his gaze went downcast. She felt a tug of regret. His hands weren’t moving to his pockets yet. They hung between his legs. He slotted one onto the other.

Holding his own hand.

Silence.

Then, he nodded.

“Okay, noona.”

His name flew out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Jungkook.”

He looked up, confused.

Her heart was beating so fast that it was choking her. Her hands felt hot. The ghost of recollection, another wrapped around the back of her hand, standing at the entrance of a bathhouse under the moonlight. A mischievous smile flashed in her mind’s eye. Shit, it felt so fucking weird with Jungkook, him staring at her as if they didn’t know each other. When had this distance appeared, and why? Yoonji found she hated it. She hated this distance more than all these other confusing emotions.

She went over and sat down next to him.

He seemed startled, his broad shoulders jumping, and Yoonji was pissed at how this closeness was no longer the comforting feeling it used to be. They used to be fine with this. They used to tease each other and laugh together. They used to be friends.

And she was going to lose him if she didn’t say something.

“Jungkook, I…”

Get it over with, Min Yoonji!

“I like your girlfriend.”

Those big brown eyes widened, his pink lips parting, the overhead light catching the tops of his cheekbones.

“Me too,” he breathed.

They stared at each other.

Then, his words actually clicked in Yoonji’s mind. Wait, what? But before she could say anything more, Jungkook grimaced and buried his head in his hands, mussing up his hair in a mild panic.

“Fuck, I should have asked her to be my girlfriend from the start!”

She jolted, not expecting this result. “You still haven’t?”

“Ah, I…” He shook his head like a dog, nervous energy pitching his normally deep voice. “She… fuck, Yoonji-noona, I know, I know, I screwed up saying nothing, just like last time…”

“Whoa, slow down.”

She reached out a hand, paused, then placed it on his upper arm. Jungkook was hunched over, elbows on thighs, not looking at her, stricken.

“Hey. Hey,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “Get a grip. What do you mean?”

She saw his brows furrow. He continued staring at the ground. “I… I don’t know. I can tell she’s pulling away, because of me… I can’t bring myself to say anything, because…”

“Hah?” Yoonji scowled and squeezed him under her hand. “What more assurance do you need?”

Jungkook lifted his head.

He looked beaten. He looked guilty. His gaze wavered. She held onto him. He felt solid and strong in her hold, but his eyes were lost, imprisoned in unspoken hopes and fears. Her problems seemed stupid compared to this heartbreaking confusion before her.

She sighed, putting on a resigned expression. “What is it? Do you need someone else to tell her for you?”

His eyes went from the floor to her face. Yoonji felt her teasing tone falter.

“I couldn’t say anything to you.”

Her heart stopped.

Jungkook lowered his head again, tilting his gaze. His voice sounded far away and sad. “If I couldn’t say anything to you, someone I am comfortable with, someone I have a friendship with, then how can I say anything to someone I absolutely can’t lose?”

Her hand left his arm.

“W… What?” she breathed, staring at him.

He took in a deep breath and turned his body a bit to better face her.

“Yoonji-noona…”

She couldn’t move, slack-jawed.

Apology in those deep brown eyes. He opened his mouth but Yoonji shot her hand out, gripping his forearm, his skin hot under her cold fingers. We’ve been friends for a really long time. If we were gonna date, it would have happened already. Oh, shit. She swallowed hard, realizing how her off-hand comment must have affected him back then. She tried to breathe. It was impossible, so she picked trying to speak instead.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she croaked, wanting to run and stay at the same time.

He winced. “Uh… Yeah,” Jungkook mumbled, his eyes shifting away.

She shook his arm impatiently. “Since when?”

The sound of him clearing his throat seemed to radiate throughout the room. “Um. Well.” He stumbled through words, stringing them together oddly. “While ago. You were dating that… uh, you called him a bastard too. Even when you broke up, you seemed off. Really depressed. Drinking every night at Namjoon-hyung’s place. I was so worried, but he told me to give you time. I… Anyway. I mean, I’ve always only been a kid in your eyes. And you’re my friend. So. Wouldn’t work. And I… I would rather be your friend than be rejected. I guess I got over it. And I met her, eventually. Uh, so... you know... I’m over it.” He waved his free right hand awkwardly.

His fingers stilled.

He dropped his hand.

“But I don’t think I’m really over it.”

His lips twisted upward, revealing the small mole underneath them. Perfectly in the center. Perfect, like the rest of him.

“If I was, then she’d be mine right now,” Jungkook sighed, the air rushing out of his whole chest at his words.

She didn’t know what to say.

Her other hand grasped her jeans, trying to steady herself with the tactile world. Her mind went back to that Instagram post. It was then. Of course, she hadn’t been in the right headspace back then. She had been playing mental Russian roulette between all that gaslighting and toxicity. After the breakup, she actively numbed her emotions every day, every night. Tried so hard to dissociate. Wore out the words, I’m fine, like it was in fashion. The worst part was how she felt like such an idiot, knowing she had willingly let herself be that pathetic for someone that ultimately didn’t matter. That internal shame had projected into her avoiding any meaningful connection with her friends except for Hoseok. Probably wouldn’t have reconnected with them at all if it wasn’t for that ball of sunshine pushing her to rejoin society. Contrary to her intrusive thoughts, they had all welcomed her back as if she hadn’t lost contact for months.

Jungkook sighed.

It took Yoonji a moment to realize he had sighed her name.

No, not her name but her name.

“She’s so cool. That was the first thing I thought when I saw her.” He raised his head, gazing into a direction not in this room. “She hadn’t spoken a word and I already liked her. Fuck, when she looked at me… I swear my heart stopped. I couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes for weeks. So fucking hot. She’s smart, too. Knows so much stuff about everything. About life. I thought it must be a dream when she kept talking to me. Me? No way, right? She even likes my dumb humor. Her laugh is so great, especially when she can’t breathe… It’s so funny.” He smiled briefly. Then it vanished. “She’s tough too. She told me a little about how she grew up, and I… huh, is this selfish? I just keep thinking, I want to be the one who makes her happy. I want her to always be happy. But…”

He sighed heavily.

“Maybe I don’t have the guts, after all.”

There was no good word to describe how she felt. Stunned. Ashamed. A hinderance. Should she have known? Could she have known? If that now meaningless bastard hadn’t fucked her up so bad, would this conversation be different? But she couldn’t change anything now. The world was moving fast and slow at the same time. It must have been seconds, but it felt like hours. He wasn’t blaming her. And yet, Yoonji couldn’t help but think that her choices, her actions, her very existence had made everything worse, somehow. She pulled her touch away.

Jungkook’s head turned slowly, making eye contact.

“It makes sense,” he chuckled dryly. Half-smiled. “Why you would like her.”

Then those dark brows knitted together.

“Wait. What do you mean, Yoonji-noona, you like her?” he started, jerking back in alarm.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

“Uh–”

Then, the devil herself interrupted.

An explosion of sound blasted from his right pocket. They both jumped, startled at the intrusion of a rising ringtone, growling singing mixed with heavy guitars. His hands fumbled with his pants and Jungkook yanked his phone out of his pocket, his eyes widening at the name, answering it after shooting her a frightened look.

“H-Hello? Noona?”

“Hey, you didn’t text me.” She could barely hear that husky voice but she could hear it all right. She sounded annoyed. “You answered so you’re not dead. I thought you said you needed me to pick you up?”

“Um.” He glanced at Yoonji.

She threw up her hands in a wordless the-fuck-you-looking-at-me-for stance.

“Oi. Earth to Jeon Jungkook.”

The tip of his pink tongue flickered over his lips. “Ah… yeah. Yeah, sorry. I’ll text you the address.”

“Hey, if you wanna stay longer, that’s fine. I just need to know a time so I don’t pass out too early.”

“No, noona, um, please.” Jungkook glanced at her again. Yoonji looked away, feeling her cheeks warm. Why was he looking at her repeatedly like that? “If you could come now. Please.”

“Hmm, a please, huh? Well… since you’re insisting so sweetly.”

And then the call ended.

She snapped her head back and clenched her jaw. “What are you doing–”

“Shouldn’t we talk to her?”

Yoonji froze. He was certainly right. She must be losing it if Jungkook was being the sensible one here. Argh, fuck it. She pursed her lips, not willing to meet his gaze.

“You’re right. Go on. Text her the address.”

“Are you su–”

She snapped towards him and nodded fiercely. “Come on. We’ve run around in circles long enough. I’m tired of things being weird between us. Before anything, we’re friends, Jungkook. Let’s not act like strangers.”

He was gripping his phone very tightly, his cheeks flushed pink, his big peepers extra big.

“Y… Yeah. You’re right.”

Half-smirk.

“Yo.”

Black bomber jacket with an oversized ruffle on the shoulders, dark scarlet silk slip dress with an exaggerated black lace trim, and black heeled boots. The bright silver buckles were in the shape of moons. Her hair was wild. There was not a lick of makeup on her face except for lip balm that gave her full, mauve-pink lips a glossy sheen. She moved and Yoonji looked away, startled at the leg slits of the slinky dress that exposed even more of her upper thighs.

“Crazy I ran into you here,” Jungkook maybe-maybe-not girlfriend mused out loud. “Nice sweater. Excellent taste, might I add.”

Yoonji suddenly felt very shapeless in her dark-grey and black striped sweater and baggy light wash jeans. Shapeless, but not clueless.

“Hah…”

The past twenty minutes had been pretty damn awkward. Neither she nor Jungkook could get the balls to speak to the other, even though one of them had grown up with them. Yup. What a sign of long-term friendship. Right. Maybe they both thought everything would be solved with the appearance of those scorched eyes. Or maybe they hoped they could pretend all this never happened if she didn’t show up. Perhaps she would get annoyed at the run around and tell Jungkook off.

Or something.

Yoonji backed up and ticked her head inside her apartment.

“Come in.”

A shift in gaze. “Simply to pick him up? What did you do to him?”

She tried not to notice or care about the mischievous glint under lashes. Like cinders still burning. There was nowhere else to look, though. The woman on the other side of her door had her hands in the pockets of her jacket. It was unzipped, giving peeks of those exposed collarbones and the lace-trimmed décolletage. Looking at those bare legs was an absolute no-go.

“Just get in here,” Yoonji muttered, backing away from the door and heading out of frame.

She didn’t bother to look. She did hear the faint hum and two steps into her home. A pause. Yoonji turned back around to see her front door being closed. They locked eyes. She looked away first. A soft, bemused sigh.

“N… Noona.”

Yoonji jumped at the appearance of a black lump with too-big eyes standing in the hallway. His hands were shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie. He had even pulled up the hood, like some kind of utterly useless fabric safety net to the fire before them. He awkwardly shuffled a bit closer, avoiding Yoonji’s stare.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Her tone was still light. “Sup?”

He coughed. “Uh…”

“You wanna tell me why I’m standing here with the two of you acting like you just buried a body?”

Yoonji winced. She turned back to a raised eyebrow. The woman hadn’t gotten out of her boots yet. Still standing there next to the door with Jungkook’s discarded sneakers and Yoonji’s everyday ones. When she shrugged, the oversized ruffle of her bomber jacket flounced to accentuate it. She flickered her gaze from one to the other. Still silence. Finally, Jungkook’s more-then-friend-with-benefits crossed her arms and shot them both a discerning eye.

“Look, I’m not the police. I don’t feel like interrogating.” She sucked the inside of her cheek and made a dimple appear. “Kinda seems like you both wanna tell me something, though. So, out with it.” Tilt of the head, her hair curling in waves around her face.

No one spoke.

Those dark eyes hardened to flint. She sighed, now impatient.

“Hm? You both confessing you fucked or what?”

Yoonji could feel her cheeks burn to red in an instant.

“What? No!”

and

“No? What!”

At the same time.

Jungkook had exclaimed in unison with Yoonji, flinging his hands out and crossing the distance. Immediately Yoonji backed up – into where else but towards the fire herself. She almost tripped when she felt a hand on her back push her forward. She spun, freezing as she ended up beside Jungkook, gawking at the woman standing by the door with an ominous but otherwise unreadable expression.

Said expression shifted from one guilty expression to the other.

“Yeah. Okay.”

She rolled her eyes and lowered her arms.

She made to leave. Jungkook called her name, pain in his tone. She stopped mid-turn, stilling. Yoonji could hear it too. She looked from him to her. That scalding stare informed them that she would not let herself be burned again. It wasn’t quite directed at either of them though. Just guarded in general.

“It’s not like that,” he pleaded. “Please believe me.”

A beat of bated breath. Then she straightened and regarded him like bird of prey. “It wouldn’t matter if it was,” she concluded. She shrugged again with an inappropriate, small floof. “I only need to know for my own sexual health. You said you don’t want to be my boyfriend. You don’t need to worry about my feelings being hurt, because they aren’t.”

The look on Jungkook’s face indicated that she might as well have slapped him.

Finally, Yoonji nudged herself forward. “We didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

The second that sharp gaze swiveled and pierced right through her, she winced. It was not the same as the teasing playfulness or even the ambiguous friendliness. It was disappointment. Not focused at her. Overall, at the entire situation. As if this happened enough times for her to know all the script, marks, camera angles. As if she knew this would happen despite not wanting the current cast to be part of the scene.

“But you would.”

There were a right answer and a wrong answer here.

Yoonji couldn’t answer at all.

A curt nod to the silence. Those predator eyes went to Jungkook.

“And you?”

He chewed on his lower lip, the windows to his soul glassy.

“You know I want to be with you. More than anyone.”

For fuck’s sake, there was more silence than there was talking. After a prolonged pause, the woman left out a low sigh, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, running her tongue over her back teeth. Yoonji finally found her voice. Small and unsteady, sure, but she spoke up anyway.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

A shadow crossed over dark orbs. The fire within died down a bit.

Or, at least, was obscured.

“You know.” That soft, husky voice calmed, retracting the previous sharpness. “I believe sex is an action that reflects undeniable truths. But, I know unspoken intentions reveal more than the actions themselves. So, while you two may not have had physical sex,” she said, slowly tilting her head from one way to the other. “That part matters less than the omission of truth. And I think I’m missing a big part of the picture right now.”

Yoonji exchanged glances with Jungkook, who moved at the same time, almost if on cue. They looked away from each other, then back up. Raised eyebrows. Shit. He was right. She was smart. And tough. She wasn’t running.

She did not run, for their sake.

Another sigh and the other woman reached down to unzip her boots. Stepped out of them, easily, and then she was standing right on front of them. In black socks with surprised-looking white ghosts all over, funnily enough. Lengthy eye contact with Jungkook. An entire conversation in silence. Then Yoonji. She had the strangest feeling, staring deep into those eyes. Bird of prey was the wrong judgement. There was no intent to conquer. She had already conquered. Yoonji could see it, from the way she held herself to the measure of forgiveness she had already given them. This was someone that spared no more naiveté when it came to others, a trait that could only be earned by having their innocence scorched to ash. She had overcome it, faced it, become reborn from it.

Like a phoenix.

A phoenix.

Her own eyes widened in the dark mirrors of the other woman.

She smiled faintly at Yoonji.

“Are you ready to fill me in?”

Then she knocked shoulders with them and headed to the living room.

Jungkook seemed anxious. He turned toward Yoonji. Probably for reassurance. She had none to give. Yeah, you and me both. Her heart was ricocheting in her ribcage. Too late to turn back now. She made an irritated face, muttering under her breath.

“Hmph. Fuck you for having good taste in women.”

ep 5. trust that i trust you. sugar, spice, and everything nice

min yoonji masterpost | masterpost

#min yoonji x reader #yoonji x reader #bts smut #min yoonji #jungkook x reader #yoonji smut #jeon jungkook x reader #gender bend yoongi

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