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homeiswherethestuckis · 6 years

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Hey, It Pays the Rent (Part 1/3) Enemies

@notedchampagne happy early birthday!!!! :D To celebrate your birthiversary I thought it would be cool to try and write you a three part roommates/ enemies to friends to lovers fic! The next two parts should hopefully be done pretty quick. Anyway, happy birthday, I hope you like the first installment of your present!!!!

(Part 2/3) Friends

(Part 3/3) Lovers

“Are you sure you don’t know a single person in need of a place to stay? At least for a couple months?” You ask John again as you grab your coffee off the counter and follow him to a table.

“No, Dave.” He rolls his eyes as he plops down in a chair. “I’ve asked around and there’s no one right now. Why weren’t you looking during the beginning of the semester? People were jumping for a chance to get a room, then.”

You slump into the seat across from him and groan. “I didn’t need a roommate then. I had my financial situation all under control-”

John snorts. You shoot a glare at him and kick him under the table.

“I had it all under control,” you repeat, “but then my bastard landlord raised the rent like the roof was on fire or some shit and now I’m swimming in debts while just trying to keep my head about water. Because let me tell you one thing, John, I refuse to be fully submerged. I mean sure, I can hold my breath like a son of a bitch and I float like a corpse, but I can’t have my head below the water. That’d totally ruin my hair. Not to mention my shades, which are totally irreplaceable.”

“I know, I bought them for you.”

“So you get my problem now?”

“That you need swimming lessons?”

“John, what the fuck?” You frown at him and take a sip of your drink. “You knew what I meant.”

He grins and holds his hands up to you. “I know, I know.” He blows on his coffee to cool it off a little before taking a drink. Then he gets serious. “Money’s been tight for you right now, and that really sucks. But you keep refusing my help every time I offer, and honestly I don’t know what else I can do.”

John’s been helping you out financially as much as he can, taking you out for food whenever he can, loaning you some money when your funds are way too low to even matter, and just generally being a chill presence in your life. You really appreciate it, but if you’re being honest you’re also a little ashamed that you have to borrow your friend’s money so often. You were certain you were going to be able to live by yourself and be completely independent. Right now you’re just a leash sucking cash blood out of John’s big money jugular.

The worst part is, you know if John ever told his Dad about your trouble right now, you’d have a sudden large endowment in your bank account courtesy of Crocker Corp. You’re certain the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because you begged John to keep this all on the down low. You told him that it would’ve made you feel like a charity case. As if borrowing money from John is any better.

God, you feel like an asshole.

Which is why you need a roommate to split the burden with, fast.

“Are you describing it as the dope crash pad it is, or are you downplaying its awesome glory for mass appeal? Because that might have an effect on why people aren’t exactly lining up to rub elbow room with the Dave Strider.”

“You’re right, I’ve probably been downplaying it.” He nods in agreement. “Shit! I forgot to name drop you!”

He bangs his fist on the table like he’s disappointed in himself. You roll your eyes, you know a sarcastic move when you see one.

“Well, remember to do that next time.” Your chair scrapes across the floor as you stand up. “I gotta go, I have some posters to put up before I head off to work. Keep me posted if anyone gets interested.”

“Will do.” He gives you a quick thumbs up. “Have a good time at work.”

You laugh as you leave the cafe. “John, that’s not a thing.”

Work, as always, is exhausting as hell. Who would’ve thought working at a gas station could take so much out of you? You never feel like you do shit, but at the end of the day you can barely make yourself walk home.

Somehow, you manage to make it all the way home to your shitty (but just not shitty enough for you to be able to afford by yourself) apartment and collapse on your awful thrift store couch. You don’t bother turning on the lights as you kick your shoes off and dig your phone out of your pocket. Not like you need lights to scroll through social media before hitting the sack.

There’s a call from John that you missed. You spend a second weighing the pros and cons of calling him back when you realize he also texted you.

good news! i found some one willing to move in with your sorry butt. they want to set up a meeting with you first to check out the place and discuss room mate stuff with you. get back to me when you can.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, this financial nightmare is over. Or at least, somewhat more financially stable.

“Thanks, dude.” You say into the voice to text function of your phone, “I knew I could count on you. Sunglasses emoji. Send.”

With that taken care of, you drag yourself over to the kitchen and make yourself snack dinner. Which is just. Half a bag of doritos but you’re eating it for dinner. Hey, that’s just how it is, sometimes. You take your snack dinner back to to the couch and turn on some cartoons to help you chill for a bit. A couple hours of brain mushing tv and phone scrolling, you decide to call it a night and go to bed.

The meeting between you and your potential mystery roommate is set up for Saturday, because the three of you all happen to be free on Saturday.

That’s right.

The three of you.

Because for some reason John wanted to come and chaperone your meeting. As if you couldn’t act like a semiprofessional for five fucking minutes. But as much as you told John this, he insisted on coming. He even offered to buy drinks for you and his pal, because he figured the two of you owing him a seven whole dollars and some change would be enough for you to let him stay. And, well, he was right.

All of John’s talk about being present and telling you to keep the conversation as civil as possible, and to really seriously consider the position you’re in right now before you make any decisions really has you wondering just what kind of person he’s expecting you to meet with. You’re usually cordial as one of those old dudes who sits on his porch on a scorching hot day and offers some of his fresh squeezed lemonade to all the dehydrated street folks. Of course, nobody accepts it because stranger danger, the street folks aren’t total idiots, but they get that you were being nice and they appreciate the gesture to parch their throats with your suspicious lemonade. How do they even know if you washed your hands? They don’t, they’d just have to take your word for it, which they won’t, because you’re a senile dirty old dude, but you’re definitely fucking cordial. That is the very essence of your being. The lemony, lemony essence.

You think John’s probably overreacting. You’re chill with pretty much everyone you meet, or at the very least you can keep your distaste in check for long enough to get them to agree to live with you. There’s really only one person (aside from Asshole Whom You’ll Never Speak of Again) who’s ever pissed you off to the point you can’t even pretend to be nice to him over his stream of bullshit.

Of course, there’s no way John invited Doucheface McSpazzatron here to room with you. That guy’s all the way across the country, thank fuck. You can rest assured it’s not him.

But that still leaves....the possibility that John knows someone so fucking similar to that guy that he thinks it’s going to be a problem for you. That’s a worrying thought in and of itself.

You’re not looking forward to this meeting.

You sigh and brace yourself for the worst as you push open the cafe door. You go up to the counter, order a dink, and ask them to put it on John’s tab. Once it’s delivered to you and slowly burning your hands, you start scanning the room for any signs of John and his friend. You arrived a little late, so no way they aren’t here already.

Eventually, you spot John’s face through the Saturday morning coffee crowd. There he is, smiling and laughing at whatever the mystery person said. From where you’re standing, you can only see the other person’s back. You can’t tell if you know them from here, all you really know for sure is that they’re wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up. You drink some of your coffee, shrug to yourself, and start walking over. You’re going to have to talk to them eventually, and who knows, maybe they won’t be completely terrible. Lord knows they can’t be as bad as that fuckbag-

“Karkat?”

You’re frozen in place in complete disbelief. What the fuck’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be at school halfway across the country!

He screws his face up into a scowl that you are more than familiar with. “Dave.”

Your shock at seeing him here melted the moment you had his voice grating at your ears, and suddenly you can move again. You pull your chair out and sit down, angling it far away from the table so you’re as far away from him as you can be without making it too obvious. You fix a glare at him. Now you can focus on the more important things, like what the fuck he’s even doing back here so soon.

And just what the fuck is on his face?

“You’re not going near my place til you fucking shave.” You say pointedly, gesturing to horrible patch of hair on his chin. “I don’t need you shedding all over the carpet and anyway I’m not allowed to have a pet.”

“You think I like this?” Karkat holds a hand under his chin to frame his scruffy soul patch. “Any part of this? I despise having this fucking scrub brush uselessly attached to my face all the time? Do you think I don’t know how much this makes me look like a douche?”

“Look like?” You snort as you take out your phone and snap a quick pic of Karkat’s agitated face.

He snarls at you and gives you the finger. “I would shear this shit right off in a bloodpush thump, but my cheap ass fucking razor broke and now I’m trapped with this piece of steel wool on my chin. And you know what? It’s just the moldy icing on my shit cake right now! Because now, I have to beg you with this to let me squat in your tiny loadgaper of a home for awhile under the threat of being hiveless! If I live long enough the become ancient and decrepit, I don’t think I’ll ever experience a moment lower than this one.”

John laughs. “Karkat, you could’ve just asked to borrow a razor.”

“Hiveless, you say?” Interesting. “You serious?”

“Yes.” He sighs and covers his face with one of his hands. The other is wrapped around his cup of coffee. “I’m completely serious. Why else would I even fucking be here if I wasn’t under some dire shitty circumstances?”

“I see.” You nod. “So you came to me in your time of need.”

He levels a glare at you. “It’s not like a wanted to. I’m all out of options.”

“Of course you are.” You take a contemplative sip of your drink, savoring both the flavor and this perfect situation you’ve stumbled upon. Well, perfect fo you. Obviously it sucks for Karkat. You’re not very sympathetic, though, since you’re not his biggest fan. “I guess that means this shit’s all settled, then.”

“So you and Karkat are gonna be roommates, now?” John asks. He sounds relieved, like he wasn’t expecting it to go this well.

“Not so fast!” You hold up your hand to him. “Before I give our homeless buddy here the grand tour and allow him the privilege of living with me-”

Karkat snorts into his drink.

“-there’s one thing I need to hear first.”

John tilts his head. “One thing you need to hear?”

“Yeah.” You smirk and nudge Karkat with your leg. “You know what it is.”

Karkat looks confused, like he’s not sure what you’re talking about. He and John exchange a look. You don’t give him any hints.

You see it in his eyes as the realization strikes him. He sips his coffee and frowns. “You abominable fucking nerd.”

You shake your head. “That’s not it, and you know it.”

He groans and hangs his head, and you can feel the giant shit eating grin spread over your face. “Help me, Dave Strider, you’re my only hope.”

“You’re damn right, I am.” You polish off the remains of your drink in one gulp. “Let’s go.”

You take Karkat to check your place out. He walks around inspecting everything, kicking your shit around and telling you how much of a disgusting fucking sty your apartment is. Have you ever heard of a vacuum, Dave? Or do you like wallowing in your filth like a fat nasty oinkbeast? Blah blah blah ad nauseum. John came with you, too. Again, just to make sure neither of you do anything stupid, like say no to living together, in the heat of your mutual distaste for each other.

God, you’re going to fucking hate living with Karkat. He’s probably the worst roommate ever. But you’re out of options, and apparently so is he.

Karkat walks over to you. “Okay,” he kicks a piece of trash you haven’t bothered to pick up yet, “as much as the thought fills my throat with hot bile, I’ll do it. I’ll room with you.”

He holds out his hand. You shake it. “Great. I’ll go get the lease so you can sign it. After you kill that rat on your face and toss it out.”

He covers his soul patch with his hand defensively. “Fuck you, I don’t have a razor!”

“Get one!”

“I’ll get one after you let me sign the lease!” Your grips are still locked in a handshake. Karkat’s squeezing your hand tightly.

You squeeze back. “You’re not putting your John Hancock on shit til your face doesn’t make me gag.”

“Joke’s on you, asshole! My face always makes you gag!” He sticks his face really close to yours. So close your noses are almost touching. “Look me in the bulb and say it fucking doesn’t! I dare you!”

“Get your greasy hairball of a face away from me!”

“Or what?” You can smell his breath as he eggs you on. It’s hot and a little sour. “What are you gonna do?”

“Move it or I’m gonna lick you!” You consider shoving him, but you resist the urge. “Don’t test me, dude, I’ll stick my god damn tongue in your ear, I swear I will.”

“Do it, pussy! I fucking dare you!” Karkat turns his head so his ear is directly in your face.

Your tongue is out of your mouth and going straight for his dirty ass ear before you can even consider what you’re really doing. You literally told him not to test you a second ago, and then he did it anyway! Dammit, you threatened to do it, and now you gotta follow through. You gotta! You’re nothing if not a man of your word.

“Hey!”

An arm slams between the two of you before you can fulfill your promise of delivering the wettest of willies straight from the source. John squeezes his way between you and Karkat, acting as a barrier to separate you.

“Dave, go talk to your landlord about the lease. I’ll take Karkat back over to my place to get his stuff and shave and we’ll come back later. Does that work for you?”

Fuck, you hate how riled up Karkat makes you. More than that, you hate that John always has to step in and intervene. How the fuck did he become the voice of reason?

You breathe deeply. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Alright,” John nods and turns to Karkat, “what about you?”

Karkat huffs and rolls his eyes. “Of course that works for me, why the fuck wouldn’t it? I already went on a tirade about how I hate this unruly fuzz always scratching at my chin in the most hellishly uncomfortable way imaginable. Do you really think I’d change my tune just because Dave has an iota of common sense concerning facial hair? Shit, I know I’m petty, but I’m not that petty!”

You raise an eyebrow and open your mouth to disagree, but John shoots you a look that makes you close it again. Whatever you were going to say is really not necessary. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to get into stupid arguments with Karkat for no apparent reason once you’re living together.

Fuck, you’re going to be living together.

“Okay, so that settles it!” John wraps an arm around Karkat’s shoulders and starts leading him towards the door. “Hey, we should go out for dinner to celebrate tonight! My treat.”

Before you can tell him that’s not necessary -John’s already been doing a lot for you- he drags Karkat out and closes the door. You’re left alone in your apartment.

You flop face first onto the couch and groan into it. You’re going to have to savor these fleeting moments while they last. Soon it won’t just be your apartment. You won’t be able to relax like this anymore.

You’re going to have to deal with Karkat on a daily basis. This is going to be hell.

You flip over and stare up at the ceiling, letting out another loud groan.

But..for the sake of the rent, you think you can deal with Karkat and his bullshit.

Yeah. Doesn’t sound too hard. You got this.

Holy shit, no amount of money is worth this.

Your schedules are different enough that you barely see Karkat most of the time, but when you do see him, it makes you feel like he took a steaming, liquidy shit all over your good day.

Karkat is taking some online courses, which you wouldn’t give even half a turd about under normal circumstances. The problem is that he does his homework in the living room with the tv on at full volume. Again, this wouldn’t be much of a problem, either.

Except he doesn’t let you watch anything when he’s doing his homework. You once tried to take the remote and he hissed at you. He fucking hissed. As if he hasn’t already seen When Harry Met Sally fifty times already. But no, its always his dumb fucking romantic troll sap, 24/7 and 360 fucking 5 forever and always. Or at least until Karkat’s finished doing shit. But really, in the moment those feel like the same thing.

Leaving the room doesn’t help much. Usually you can still hear it through your door.

If he’s not laying claim over the couch and tv, he’s cleaning something. That actually came as a pleasant surprise at first. You’re not exactly big on cleaning, so it was refreshing to come home to a clean house. The problem isn’t the apartment being clean, obviously, the problem is how Karkat goes about doing it.

Karkat’s cleaning pattern is as unpredictable and erratic as a chihuahua tornado. He’ll start a load of dishes, then stop in the middle to vacuum the living room carpet, and then take a break to clean the bathroom sink. All the while complaining about the disgusting state of the apartment. Granted, his complaints about the apartment being gross die down once he starts regularly cleaning any shit he can get his grubby hands on.

Given what he does instead now, you kind of miss the complaints. Now he runs around the apartment cleaning and singing at the top of his lungs.

If you can call it singing.

It’s more like...screaming?

Yeah, it’s definitely screaming. It really makes you wonder just how ear splittingly loud his music must be if he thinks it’s okay to fucking belt out the lyrics to every song in The Killers discography like a sandpaper throated banshee.

The only good that comes from that is that you know which room he’s in at all times and you can avoid him better.

Mundane and everyday tasks are annoying as hell now. You can’t even buy goddamn groceries without it being a huge federal case. You want your cheap ass snacks, but Karkat always demands getting troll food, too. Also a thing that shouldn’t be a big deal, except that troll cuisine is more expensive than human food because even with the high concentration of trolls on the planet, it’s still technically a delicacy. On top of that, Karkat wants to make sure you get the right kind of food and not the awful but equally as expensive stuff stocked at your local grocer. So instead you gotta buy your groceries (which Karkat will inevitably also eat because that’s how this arrangement works, you share snacks) and then you have to go home, put those away, and then take a bus to the next town over so Karkat can hit up the Authentic Troll Food Store, which is hella expensive because everything there is imported straight from Alternia. It’s a hassle and you get absolutely jack shit out of it because your uncultured ass can’t stand the taste of troll garbage slime chow.

Then, of course, there’s John.

Karkat always seems to be near John. Texting him, calling him. Hanging out in his dorm. Having dinner at Mr. Egbert’s place with him. Tagging along whenever you go chill with him.

Fuck, it’s like you’re fourteen all over again.

You fucking hate it.

The summer before you started high school, Karkat moved into town. And for that whole year, he was always hanging around John. He was like a pimple on your ass that was agonizingly annoying, but every time you popped it it just came back worse, bigger and more filled with puss than the last time. You couldn’t get John alone for a second, it was awful. Karkat was taking up all his time and there was nothing you could do about it without looking like an even bigger asshole than him.

That whole year was torture. Thinking back on it, only half of it was really Karkat’s fault. It took you years to come to terms with the fact that you’d had a crush on John and were jealous of how much of his attention Karkat was taking up. The other half just wanted to hang out with your best friend without the addition of some angry, loud troll kid who was obviously crushing hard on him.

Yeah, Karkat had had a crush on John, and it was...not subtle.

There was a blessed summer without Karkat right before your junior year. It was a good season for you. You only saw him once over that whole three month period. You remember it pretty well. You and John were going to get some matches from the gas station (the one you’re currently working at) to light off some fireworks when you saw Karkat on his way out. Karkat froze like a deer caught in headlights and he dropped his slushie. John said hi, and then Karkat ran. Neither of you had gone after him.

When school started back up again, everything went back to normal, save for the fact that Karkat wasn’t clinging to John anymore.

But here you are, right back where you started. You’ve come full circle once again.

Karkat is hanging around John and taking up all of his spare time like a fucking attention leech again. And just like before, you’re more jealous than you’d care to admit.

The only difference is this time you’re not jealous because you have a repressed crush on John. It’s all because you just want to spend time with your friend without Karkat.

After a month of all this bullshit piling up, your last straw finally snaps under its weight.

You come home after a long day of work to a dark apartment. You just want to collapse on the couch, but you can see as you toe off your shoes by the door that you’re not gonna be able to do that. One of Karkat’s movies is on. The tv is so bright in the pitch black that you don’t even notice Karkat’s laptop is open on the coffee table until you walk by the couch on the way to your room.

But it is open.

And on it is John’s face. His mouth is moving, but you can’t hear a word he’s saying. You can tell he sees you, though, because he waves.

Karkat turns his head. His glare is illuminated from the soft glow of both screens. Clearly his disapproves of you interrupting his facetime with John.

But you know what? Fuck that. Fuck him.

You walk around the couch and over to the other side of the coffee table. You stand tall over Karkat, leveling your own steely gaze at him as you slam his laptop closed with one hand.

He sneers at you. “What the fuck was that for?”

“This shit has to stop.”

“Oh? And just what shit are you talking about?” He inquires with disinterest. Clearly he doesn’t give a damn about what your reasons are. “Enlighten me.”

You can’t contain it anymore, not for all the rent money in the world.

You explode and enlighten him.

“All of this bullshit with John!” You yell at him in an attempt to get it through his thick skull. “Stop demanding his attention all the time! He has more important shit to do than waste his time talking to your thirsty, pining ass all day, dude. Jesus, just tell him you have a crush on him already and get it over with!”

“A crush?” Karkat tilts his head to the side, and you think you can see a hint of a smile on his face. “On John?”

He snorts.

“Dave, really? You think I have a crush on John?” He’s outright laughing now. What the fuck? “I haven’t had a crush of any sort on that idiot since I was seven sweeps.”

It occurs to you that this might be the first time you’ve ever made Karkat laugh. Somehow that makes this whole confrontation worse for you.

“Then how the hell do you explain all your weird ass behavior lately, hm?” You press on, undeterred by Karkat’s claim. “You’ve been following John around like a lovestruck puppy nursed back to health from the brink of death on his chiseled bosom. Don’t deny it, we both know this shit isn’t normal.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why the fuck does it matter so much to you?”

“I just want to know why you’re being so fucking clingy with John all of a sudden!” You admit. “Ever since you moved back here, you’ve been acting weird and sticking to John just like when we were kids and if it’s not because you’re into him well….then I can’t think of a reason why you’d be like this.”

“You really want to know?” He says it as if it’s a challenge. He gets up off the couch and leans in closer to you over the coffee table. He’s still sneering at you. His teeth look dead and sharp in the tv’s light. “Do you really want to fucking know?”

You’re not backing down. “Yes.”

He slams his hand against the table. “I’m fucking lonely, you maggot brained shithead!”

Karkat huffs and falls back onto the couch. He’s glaring up at you, waiting for you to say something.

You’re still processing.

That….was not what you were expecting him to say.

“You’re fucking what?”

Wow, that wasn’t the stupidest thing you could’ve said, you fucking moron.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You heard me.”

“Okay,” you nod, “do...you need to talk about that?”

Did you just offer to listen to Karkat complain? Did you actually volunteer for that? What the fuck is wrong with you?

Karkat looks just as surprised by your question as you are. “I don’t think I’d...hate talking about it?”

Neither of you seem to know where to go from here. Do you wait for him to start talking? Do you take a seat beside him on the couch? Do you write shit down like a therapist might? Should you get Rose on the line instead, since she’s a good listener?

You end up walking around the table and taking a seat on the couch. In terms of couch distance, you’re far away from him. You wait patiently for him to start talking.

“I uh…” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to be independent when I left for school. I didn’t want to have to rely on anybody for shit, which is why I decided to go so far away in the first place. I even managed to get a single room when I got there. For the first few weeks, everything was fine-”

Everything was not fine.

The first few weeks weren’t fine, they were hectic. You were lost in figuring out your class schedule and what was expected of you in those classes. But once you knew what was up, things were a lot less fine and a lot more shitty than they initially appeared.

You did your homework, you studied, you wrote essays. You did all the educational fuckery you needed to do to ensure you didn’t fail any of your classes. You didn’t have a lot of time to spare with all this studious shit, but it was enough time to make you wish you had someone else to spend time with.

In your core, you’re a social being. You crave interaction, but because of a certain situation you’re not comfortable discussing, you have a hard time bringing yourself to even talk to people enough to make a real acquaintance. Out of fear of discovery, you withdrew into yourself.

You didn’t go to any social events, nor were you fucking invited to any in the first place. You ate lunch alone, when you ate lunch at all. You had a difficult time getting any studying done in groups of people, so you didn’t even try. And since you had a single room, you didn’t even have a dorm mate to fall back on for interaction.

You had so many friends at home that you’ve known for sweeps, you forgot how hard it was to make them in the first place. How insanely hard it was for you to actually trust anyone enough to spend time with them.

Two months into school, you missed your home and your friends more than you ever though possible. You were starved for a nice conversation, for some contact, for anything really. Even though you were still in touch with your friends, it wasn’t the same. Somehow all the texting and phone calls and video chatting made you feel worse.

The stress piling up from all of the homework didn’t help you at all. At first the homework distracted you from your lack of a social life, and then it all consumed your life. Sometimes it was so overwhelming you couldn’t function anymore.

You hate to admit this, but you cried yourself to sleep more than once during your time there.

Everything was horrible and it was shit and you were completely aware of that. But what were you going to do? Admit your failure? Give up on school and come back home? Of course not! You could get through the whole year, you were strong enough for at least that!

But then you saw a picture of Kanaya with Rose and some of their other friends. Kanaya came down from school to spend the weekend with everybody because she lived close enough to do that. There was your best friend, hanging out with her friends and girlfriend and having a fun time. And here you were, all alone in your dorm room across the country.

That’s what decided it for you.

You talked to the appropriate people about leaving school and transferring to the local college back home. You decided to finish off the rest of the year on your first school’s online program and then start at the new one. You told John you were coming back, and he offered to let you stay at his house for a bit, and you immediately took the offer. You didn’t actually have a plan for where you were going to stay once you came back, so it was appreciated. After finals ended, you took a plane and a bus back home. And now you’re here.

“I came back because I missed everybody, but they’re all busy with school and work and other life shit.” Karkat shrugs. “I’ve been spending time with John because he’s available.”

He lapses into silence. Are you supposed to say something now?

“It...sounds like you had a real shitty time.”

He snorts again. “I’ll say.”

And that’s the end of everything you thought of to say.

You understand missing friends a lot. All of your friends are extremely important to you, and you can’t imagine your life without them. Well, you can, but it’s incredibly shitty. You don’t know how to tell Karkat that he has your sympathy on this front without sounding like you’re pitying him. You don’t know what else you can say.

Karkat must realize it, too. He stands up and grabs his laptop off the table. “I’m going to my block now.”

He starts walking away. Fuck, you feel like you still need to say something, but what? What the hell else do you have to offer?

Shit, he’s already opening his bedroom door. You need to say something! Anything! Just fucking open your mouth!

“Hey,” He turns his head. Hell yeah, nailed it. You said some words. “I just realized no one threw you a welcome back party. We should...fix that? Next weekend?”

You can’t read his face because the hallway’s too dark. “Yeah, okay. Next weekend.”

The party happens sooner than you anticipated it would. It feels like you blinked and the week finished. You still can’t believe that you spent all this time planning a party for a guy you don’t even like at all.

Karkat’s been less insufferable than usual. It’s a pleasant change to the bad month that came before that.

You invite everyone you can think of over to the apartment on Saturday afternoon. They all RSVP, and some people (Rose) question your act of kindness towards Karkat. You let Rose know you’re just as lost about it as she is.

Honestly, outside of inviting people over, you really didn’t do much planning. You don’t think Karkat’s going to care at all, though. He doesn’t give a shit about the actual party, he just wants people over.

That becomes evident when the guests start arriving.

Rose comes first, bearing a bundt cake and an interest in analyzing your relationship with your roommate. No amount of Lalondian analysis in the world could have prepared either of you for the hug she got from Karkat.

“Hello, Karkat.” Her voice betrays her surprise and she gives him an awkward pat on the back with her free hand. “Book club hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I’m glad you came, Rose!” He breaks away from her reluctantly and takes the cake away from her. “You got any new shit for me to read? I’ve been waiting for an update.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. Just give me a moment to find where you were.” Rose pulls her phone out of her jacket and starts scrolling through it.

Karkat and Rose sit together on the couch and you watch as she passes him her phone. You’re hanging out in the kitchen and ordering pizza while you wait for everybody else.

It doesn’t take long for more people to show up. Karkat hugs each and every person who walks through the door. Everyone seems just as shocked by this experience as you and Rose were.

About twenty minutes in everyone is chilling in the living room. At this point you’re just waiting on pizza and the final guest. You wonder if she’ll show up before the pizza.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by someone walking in. Yep, she got here first.

Karkat’s eyes light up. “Kanaya!”

She smiles. “Sorry I’m late.”

She doesn’t get any more words out before Karkat runs over to the door and hugs her so tightly he lifts her off the floor.

You didn’t really have anything planned, so you set up a game of Uno with your special Star Wars Uno cards that you know Karkat claims he hates. He only says that because he’s never fucking seen any of them, that uncultured swine.

You get a couple rounds in before the pizza comes, and once that’s here you can’t really play Uno anymore. You switch to watching tv instead, just for background noise while you all talk.

It’s been awhile since you’ve all gotten together, and it’s so amazing to be surrounded by your friends you wonder why you don’t do this more often.

Karkat is sitting on the floor between Kanaya and John. You’re not sure what they’re talking about, but you know this is the happiest you’ve ever seen him.

Seeing him smile this much is a little surreal. Hopefully it’s something you’ll get used to.

The party lasts late into the night, but eventually people begin to leave. Karkat walks all of them to the door and hugs them again as they exit. After a long debate about whether they should spend the night or not, Rose and Kanaya also take their leave. The door closes behind them, and it’s just you, Karkat, and your post-party messy apartment.

The atmosphere in the apartment feels a little awkward to you. You clear your throat to clear the silence. Karkat is still staring at the closed door.

“So, uh…” you don’t really have anything say right now, “I didn’t know you were such a hugger, Karkat.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by what happens after that, but it still catches you off guard.

He hugs you.

His arms are warm and they’re wrapped tightly around you. His face is buried in your sweatshirt.

It’s….nice. Soft. A comforting embrace that you never expected to get from someone like Karkat.

You’d hug back, but Karkat’s pinned your arms to your sides.

“Thanks for this, Dave.” His voice is muffled by your shirt.

You shrug in the most casual way possible. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, shut the fuck up! Let me thank you, I needed this more than I thought I did.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” You roll your eyes, but you also smile because you know Karkat can’t see it right now. “You’re welcome, you owe me now.”

“You don’t have to come with me to Troll Foods anymore.”

“Oh, sweet! I hate that place. But I was thinking more along the lines of making you marathon Star Wars with me.”

“Really, Dave?” He groans into your shirt. “Star Wars? Why the fuck are you so obsessed with that series? It’s not even an accurate portrayal of alien life and space travel.”

“Uh, of course it’s not, it’s called fiction, jackass. Read a fucking book.” You retort. “Besides, Star Wars is the best and I refuse to be friends with someone who hasn’t seen Star Wars.”

Karkat pulls away from you. “Did you just call me your friend?”

“Jesus, maybe I should’ve stuck my tongue in your ear, that probably would’ve cleaned all the gunk out.” You smirk. “I said you have to watch Star Wars first.”

“And then you’ll think of me as your friend?” Karkat asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

You nod. “Oh, yeah, dude.”

“Okay, fine.” He sighs. “I’ll watch your dumb space trilogy.”

“Cool.” You run over to your room. “You’re gonna love the shit outta them, I swear.”

What Karkat doesn’t know is that you just lied to his face. You don’t actually have a Star Wars prerequisite, you just wanted to make him watch them.

You already think of Karkat as your friend.

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #roommates #enemies to friends to lovers #multichapter #I'm also gonna put it on ao3 because of the whole multiple chapters part #collegestuck sorta #john egbert #happy soon birthday Sam!!!! :D #I hope you like this so far!#I hope you have a fantastic birthday week you deserve it you're the best #yo it's a fic and I wrote it

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gayskywalkcrs · 3 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIR MOSS!!!!!!! UR AN OLD MAN NOW!! i hope u have a fantastic wonderful day bc u deserve only the best :)) can i pls get. spectres / rebels modern au. with fluff :)

THANK YOU BELOVED

only a week late!! BUT. here!

"I've changed my mind," Kanan says. "Letting you get me into archery was the best decision I've ever made."

Hera snorts from behind him, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder and moving her hands down to his waist. She presses her hips closer to his and a kiss to his jaw, then starts correcting his posture.

"Elbow down, love." She taps it and Kanan moves down so it's level with his chin. "I am fully aware that you wanted me to do this in a sexy way, just so you know, but I'm too invested in making sure your form is good."

"You focus on my form, I'll focus on the horny," Kanan jokes, waggling his eyebrows in such an endearingly dumb fashion that Hera can't help but kiss him.

"Maybe if we both focus on your form you might actually hit something," Hera teases. Kanan gasps, faux offended, and proceeds to lament at how horribly his wife treats him.

"Such cruelty from such a pretty woman," he bemoans. "I can't believe you'd treat me like this. This is homophobia and racism and sexism. I have been hate-crimed."

Hera outright laughs at that, dropping her hold on Kanan so that she can double over and use her hands to try to muffle her laughter. "Racism," she giggles. "I'm from Haiti, you dumb fuck."

"And I'm Latino, what's your point?" Kanan shoots back, a grin on his face. "Racism, I tell you. You are conspiring to bully me over my terrible archery skills because I'm Latino and you're not."

"Bozhe moy," comes a tired, Russian voice. "They're at it again, Zeb."

Hera looks behind her, a wide smile on her face. Aleksandr Kallus, Zeb's mysterious Russian boyfriend whom Hera is fairly sure is ex-FSB, is walking over to them with a pistol at his waist, his ear defenders round his neck, and Zeb's arm round his hips. Ezra trails behind them, looking dejected.

Ezra was adopted when he was seven and Hera and Kanan were each twenty. He'd been a surly, snappish kid, traumatised by the deaths of his parents only a few months before his adoption. He could've been Kanan's kid by birth, with how similarly they act.

"First you don't let me shoot and then I have to see Mom and Dad being all gross?" The fourteen-year-old complains. "Sabine would let me have a gun."

"No she wouldn't," Aleksandr says firmly. "After lunch I will teach you the air rifle - will that make you feel better?"

Ezra whoops, doing a strange little dance Zeb had taught him the first time they'd met. He's never truly grown out of it - not that Hera cares, she actually really likes the fact that Ezra feels comfortable enough around them to express his happiness - and it makes Zeb smile.

"Don't point the arrow at your feet!" Aleksandr snaps at Kanan, who starts and lifts the bow back up. "If you shoot your foot then you will have problems walking for a very long time."

"Bloody KGB," Kanan teases. He slowly relaxes the bow and takes the arrow out of the nock, putting it back into Hera's quiver.

"That's racist," Aleksandr says, folding his arms and looking at Kanan with an unflinching expression. Kanan stares back, baffled, and Aleksandr's eyebrow twitches from the effort he goes through to hold in his laughter.

Hera watches it click in Kanan's head; he yelps, smacking Aleksandr with his bow. "You are the only white person here!" Kanan retorts, laughing. "This has got to be the most ethnically diverse family in existence!"

And because Hera loves riling him up: "Technically Aleksandr adds to the diversity of the group, love."

Kanan groans.

send a (belated) birthday writing prompt?

#rebels #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #ezra bridger #garazeb orrelios #sabine wren #alexsandr kallus #kanera #kalluzeb #modern au #my writing

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ailendolin · 2 years

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Whump Wednesday - 32 - Bill (2015)

Title: Cake and Flowers [AO3 - Sequel to Daisy]

Characters: Ian, Gabriel, Anne, Bill and the children

Prompt: Gabriel birthday one-shot - Prompt by this lovely anon here.

A/N: Happy birthday, anon! I hope you're having a fantastic day! Enjoy your WW birthday fic!

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you as well just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

————

Cake and Flowers

Dawn was not even creeping up on the horizon yet when Ian got dressed and quietly tiptoed out of Bill and Anne’s house in Stratford, armed with nothing but a basket and a lamp. This early in the morning, the muddy roads of the town were completely deserted and the houses to his left and right still dark and silent. Not even birds were singing as he made his way through the sleeping village. Ian couldn’t even remember the last time he had experienced such quietness. He supposed some people might find it strange and eerie but he found it rather peaceful. It almost felt as if he was the only person in the world.

A few months ago, that thought would have brought him comfort. His life had been an endless circle of doing his best and expecting the worst – with the worst more often than not being exactly what he got. He would have done anything to make everyone else disappear back then just to get a break from the pain and loneliness that had been his steady companions for so long.

Not anymore, though. He had friends now – a thought still strange to him even after all these months. There were days when waking up in Anne and Bill’s house in London still felt like a dream to him that was too good to be true; especially when he got to sit down with them in the morning for breakfast and Gabriel smiled at him from across the table.

Ian’s cheeks heated up in the cool morning air just thinking about that smile. He didn’t know if he’d ever been so enamoured with someone before. He’d been more a boy than a man when he set out from home all those years ago to try and find work that would pay enough to help his parents feed their ever-growing family. There hadn’t been any time for – well, romance, he supposed; and not much opportunity for it either. None of Croydon’s maids would have ever risked the Earl’s wrath by starting an affair right under his nose and Ian simply didn’t have enough money to spend what little time off work he got inviting pretty, young ladies to a fine meal in one of London’s more respectable taverns.

Stepping off the road onto the dewy meadow outside of Stratford, Ian took a deep breath of the misty morning air. Things were better now that he was working for Anne and Bill. No one shouted or threw things at him anymore, he had more free time than he knew what to do with and was paid rather handsomely for his work around the house and the theatre. He didn’t keep that extra money for himself, though. Some of his younger siblings had their own families now and were in dire need of financial support. Not too long ago, both his sisters Margaret and Mary had lost their husbands to the plague and his brother Will had been out of work ever since his accident – no one knew if his foot would ever heal well enough for him to be able to walk without a cane again. So every extra penny Ian earned was needed, desperately so, and Ian gave all he could spare gladly.

Even if it meant not being able to afford a proper birthday present for Gabriel and having to get up before sunrise to pick her a basket full of flowers instead.

She deserves more, he thought with a sigh. No matter what Anne had said the day before, he wished he could afford to buy Gabriel the fabric she’d been eyeing so wistfully at the market last week, or that new pair of scissors she’d been going on about for almost a month now. Instead here he was, picking flowers in the dark, hoping their variety would make up for their commonness.

The sun was just starting to peek above the horizon by the time Ian had filled his basket to the brim with all the spring flowers he could find: daffodils and tulips, forsythia and weigela, primroses and hyacinths. His shoes, completely soaked through from the morning dew by then, squelched with every step as he hurried back to Anne and Bill’s home. Hopefully, Gabriel would still be asleep so he’d have time to cut and arrange the flowers before she saw them. Perhaps he’d even have time for a quick change of clothes, he mused as he walked down the street.

The warm, yellow light streaming through the kitchen windows upon his arrival dashed his hopes. For a moment, Ian steps faltered – if Gabriel was awake, his surprise (little as it was) would be ruined – but his thoughts barely had a second to spiral before the door opened and Anne – not Gabriel, thank god – ushered him inside.

“I thought I’d get breakfast going so you’d have more time to get everything ready,” she smiled and took the lamp from him. Her eyes fell to the flowers. “Oh Ian, these look wonderful!”

Self-consciously, Ian glanced down at his overflowing basket. “Do you think I have enough?”

Anne chuckled and her eyes softened in the way they always did when her children said something particularly endearing. “You worry too much, Ian. Go on, get changed. I’ll cut these for you and get you a vase.”

Ian managed to mumble out a thank you before he was shooed out of the kitchen. He tiptoed upstairs, mindful of that one step three-quarters up that creaked particularly loudly, and quickly changed into his best attire. It didn’t look that different from his normal one but it was relatively new and, more importantly, Gabriel had made it for him which meant it actually fit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try the dark red fabric?” she’d asked him a few weeks ago. “Or perhaps the blue one? It would complement your eyes.”

“I really couldn’t,” Ian had told her with a regretful smile.

“Why not?” Gabriel had asked, looking down at the fabric in her hands with a frown.

Ian had explained the Sumptuary Laws to her, then; how he could get arrested for wearing the wrong clothes, even the wrong colours, and Gabriel’s face had fallen when she realised she’d never be able to make the garments she had in mind for him.

“Green is fine, really,” Ian had tried to reassure her with a smile.

He should have known that Gabriel would manage to find a way to make his plain, rather simple clothes extraordinaire anyway. She’d sneaked subtle embroidery onto the sleeves and collar, barely even noticeable if one didn’t know what to look for. But Ian did, and every time he saw the fine lines of thread he couldn’t help but trace his fingers over them in reverence. No one had ever taken such care to make him something, and his heart beat just a little bit faster at the thought.

By the time he came back downstairs, Anne had not only cut the flowers but also gotten the cake out of the pantry where he had hidden it the night before. She offered him a smile before she busied herself with setting the table, leaving him to arrange the flowers on his own. Ian decided to put the long, thin branches of the forsythia and weigela in the back of the vase and placed the tulips and daffodils in front of them. The smaller, sweet-smelling hyacinths he arranged at the very front.

Taking a step back, Ian surveyed his work. It still wasn’t much but at least the flowers brought a little colour to the table, he thought. He put the cake next to the vase and then, as a final touch, scattered the primrose blossoms around them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and managed not to flinch.

“Gabriel is going to love it,” Anne told him with a smile.

Ian wasn’t so sure about that but he didn’t have time to dwell on it because in that very moment the sound of the children very excitedly – and slightly off-key – singing Happy Birthday drifted down from the stairs, a sure sign that the rest of the house including Gabriel was now wide awake.

Anne shook her head in fond dismay and took off her apron. “How many times did I tell them we’ll sing once everyone is downstairs?”

Despite the nervousness thrumming through his veins, Ian managed a chuckle. “I remember at least five different occasions.”

Anne sighed and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “At least there’s one person in this house who listens when I say something.”

Not knowing how to reply, Ian ducked his head and busied himself with readjusting the primroses once more. Then that one step near the top of the stairs creaked and he knew the moment had come. He looked up just in time to see the children bursting in the kitchen. They were followed by Bill who wore a huge smile on his face when he announced with all the gravitas of the actor he thought himself to be, “May I present? The birthday girl!”

Ian very nearly forgot to join in on Anne and the children's applause and enthusiastic cheers because all coherent thought fled from his mind when Gabriel stepped into the kitchen. She looked radiant. There was no other word for it. Her hair, falling just below her shoulders now, was neatly pinned up with a sunflower hair clip that matched the beautiful yellow dress she was wearing. Ian had never seen it before and he had no doubt Gabriel had made it herself and most likely specifically for this day. But it wasn't her hair or her dress that made him catch his breath – it was her smile and the pure happiness that shone from her eyes when everyone shouted, “Happy birthday!”

Now, more than ever, Ian wished he’d been able to afford an actual present for her if only to to make her smile like this, just once.

Breakfast was an unhurried, merry affair that morning. The children asked Gabriel all sorts of questions about her past – “Do people in Spain even celebrate birthdays?” and “What was the best present you ever got?” – and though Ian had initially worried talking about the life she’d left behind would make Gabriel sad the opposite turned out to be true. Her smile never dimmed as she told story after story from her childhood. If anything, it only grew brighter.

After breakfast, Anne ushered Bill and the children back upstairs, loudly declaring they needed to get dressed if they wanted to go to the lake. When she winked at him Ian realised she was actually trying to give him and Gabriel a few minutes alone. It would be a kind gesture, Ian thought, if only he knew what to say to Gabriel. He’d never been good at small talk, and it didn’t help that he felt self-conscious every time his eyes landed upon the flowers and half-eaten cake on the table. So instead of saying anything he started cleaning up the plates and cups, hoping Anne and the others would come back down before the silence between him and Gabriel grew too uncomfortable.

“I wanted to thank you for the cake,” Gabriel said suddenly. Her voice was soft but Ian still startled and almost dropped the plates in his hands. “It was just like my grandmother used to make it.”

He put the plates down, took a steadying breath and looked up at her. “How did you know I was the one who made it?”

Gabriel’s lips twitched up into a smile. “You’re the only one I told about the recipe. And you always add cinnamon to your cakes.”

Ian felt warmth rise to his cheeks.

“I like the taste of it,” he murmured, feeling the need to defend himself.

“So do I,” Gabriel said, still with that smile on her face. Her eyes flicked towards the flowers. “You picked these too, didn’t you?”

With a sigh, Ian nodded. “I know they’re not much and don’t really compare to what Anne and Bill got you but I didn’t want to give you just a cake for your birthday.”

Gabriel looked at him for a moment, quiet in a way that made him nervous. Then she pushed herself to her feet and rounded the table, “Ian? Look at me, please.”

Ian lifted his gaze from his tightly clasped hands and met her warm, gentle eyes. He swallowed hard. “Yes?”

“It’s not just a cake,” Gabriel said softly. “It’s a little piece of my home and my past. And the flowers …” She hesitated. Then, to Ian’s great surprise and shock, she reached out to touch his hands. Her eyes were shining wetly in the light when she said, “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

“That can’t be true,” Ian blurted out before he could stop himself.

Gabriel breathed out a laugh and gave his hands a squeeze. “Well, it isn’t anymore. Thanks to you. I love them, Ian. I really, really do. Thank you.”

She leaned forward and before Ian knew what was happening her lips were touching his cheek – gently, and with love. He let out a soft, “Oh,” and, when Gabriel pulled back, let his fingers trail over the tingling spot, feeling more than a little dazed.

Gabriel gave him another smile. “How about we pack up the cake and take it with us to the lake?”

Still stunned by what had just happened Ian nodded mutely.

A few minutes later, Anne found them standing shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, quietly packing the basket together. Every now and then, their fingers touched and they would stop and smile at each other for a moment, their eyes full of tentative new beginnings and lifelong promises.

Smiling to herself, Anne retreated into the hallway to give them five more minutes.

#ian #gabriel montoya #anne hathaway #bill shakespeare #gabrian #bill the film #bill 2015 #my fic #whump wednesday #wwff challenge

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gojosattoru · 2 years

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hello hello ana you lovely human being !!! <333

i hope that you're having a great day/night wherever you are hehe

i also hope that your week has been as fantastic as you are!! hopefully you are surviving this weather (it's pretty hot here !)

this is your reminder to stay hydrated and that i love you lots !!

also when is your birthday 👀

lots of huggies, lena <3

heya lenaaaaa!!! *GLOMPS and SMOOCHES YOU* I have been doing well thank you for passing by and for checking on me angel you're seriously such a sweetheart!!! >///U///< oh yes, fortunately august here started more chill on here 😭😭😭 finally a bit refreshing weather gosh i just wish summer would be like this everyone seriously, it's chill and good now tbh! like it used to be, not this infernal heat!! hope the weather goes down where you live lena ; A ; aawww gosh i can't stop giggling seriously lena you're such a big sunshine and gorgeous rainbow on this website lena!! thank you for always being so endearing <33333 hehe ahh i already answered your question on discord XDDD sorry for being so late dhgchsjk sometimes i'm so bad at replying, it's not on purpose it's just... me lololol thank you very much for this lena!! hope you are doing well, have a happy and chill weekend and may life bless you with lots of happiness and love bby! you deserve the best!! *hugs you tight* <33333333

#reply #lovely messages #friends #sleepytortellini #ILY LOADS BBY!!!!!!!! <3333333333

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thebtswritersclub · 2 years

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Happy Birthday Eva!

Join us in celebrating our wonderful founder’s birthday, @aroseforyoongi! Thank you for all your hard work and dedication with BWC. Your focus and care for the admin team and the members help keep the network standing and your humor helps further the chaos of our community! 💜 💜 💜

We hope this year is an amazing one and you have a wonderful celebration!

Eva!!! Happiest of birthdays, friend. I hope your day is wonderful, and that your next year is just as fantastic as you deserve. Eat plenty of Eva-safe cake and /or snacks today!

- Courtney (@casuallyimagining)

Eva!!! You are the best parent our net could ever wish for, and you’re always great to talk to! From dnd to bonding over our love of twoset, I always have fun chatting to you. Thank you for making such a great space and being our wonderful light, you deserve the best birthday!! plays you happy birthday very sacrilegiously on the violin

love, ru xxx (@btsmosphere)

Happy birthday, dear werewolf enthusiast and network mom <3 Thank you for building a safe space not only for me, but everyone in BWC, I think there's really no one who doesn't enjoy their time there. Thank you too for always being kind, understanding, lovable and patient. I've grown so fond of you, never never change!! Hope you have a beautiful birthday and year ahead <3

- Yours, Rid x (@taegularities )

Happiest Birthday, network mom and birthday neighbor!! Thank you for giving me and the rest of us in this net a home/safe space to run to. You’re such an amazing person and I wish nothing but good things to come your way since you deserve that and more! Hope you have a healthy and happy year ahead!

- Love lots, Jean (@eatjeanjin )

Happiest Birthday Mom!!

Another year of seeing you grow and turn even more splendid (which wow how does that even happen) !!!! you never cease to amaze me with your passion for things and the love you carry for people you think of as yours and it is just such a privilege and honour to be able to say i count as one of them <3 sending barrels full of my love and adoration. happy birthday eva!

- your unhinged child (aditi) xoxoxox (@ditttiii )

Eva!!!

Geez, we’ve been friends 2 of your birthdays now what the heck - how time flies! Through lots of changes for both of us, laughter, near tears, chaos, and calm. I’m so happy to have met you and am so glad you’re in my life. I hope this birthday is amazing and every one in the future as well!

- @eternalseokjin

Happy b-day to the love of my life!!!

You're an amazing person and the most beautiful human being with the biggest heart. I hope u have a sweet and fun birthday. No matter what, you will always be one of my most cherished friends and favorite people in the entire world. I truly love and admire you. I wish you nothing but amazing things, you deserve the world. Happy birthday to the bestest person out there!! 🎂

Love you, Danna (@unoriginal-username15432 )

Evaaaa!! You've been amazing and i really appreciate and cherish our friendship!! Many happy returns!

- @aglassofpinkchampagne

Happy Birthday Eva!

I hope that you're having an amazing week and an amazing day! I am so thankful for our friendship. Conversations with you and seeing all your amazing nature pics make my days! Thank you for founding this network and all the work you've put into the net! You're so hardworking and caring. Sending you a large virtual hug!!! Love you!

XOXO Lillia (@moccahobi )

#bwc admin birthday #admin birthday #mem: aroseforyoongi

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waywardfangirl · 4 years

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For the fantastic @fight-surrender: You are a wonderful person with a brilliant mind and a kind heart, and I am so happy to know you! I really enjoyed the prompts you suggested for the Secret Snowflake exchange this year, so to give you something fluffy and happy for your birthday I combined a few of them into one sweet and silly fic - I hope that you like it! 🖤

A big thank you goes out to @carryonvisinata for her wonderful beta work and for making this fic even better for such an incredible friend 🖤 Purr-fect Strangers

Rated: General Audiences Word Count: 3208 Chapters: 1/1 Simon

"Die Hard? Really?"

I'm struggling to make the Redbox give me my DVD. Video vending machines sounded like a good idea when I couldn't find anywhere to stream my favorite movie, but the obstinate thing in front of me and the condescending voice behind me are now making me reconsider my choices.

"What's wrong with Die Hard?" I demand, momentarily giving up on retrieving my video to take some of my frustration out on the prick watching me.

Unfortunately, when I turn around to scowl at him, I make eye contact with one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. He's tall, with dark hair escaping the bun on top of his head and falling around his face, and a perfectly tailored suit hugging every inch of his body right on down to his shiny Chelsea boots. My brain shorts out, and he sneers at me.

"There’s nothing wrong with it, per se. But you have a near unlimited assortment of cinema to choose from, and you've selected Die Hard?"

(Read the rest on ao3, or keep reading here)

I scoff.

"Look, mate, some of us don't feel the need to watch pretentious films just to feel better than other people. I like Die Hard. I'm going to watch it while eating pizza and relaxing in joggers, and I refuse to feel bad about enjoying that."

He looks a bit startled, and his cheeks take on a slightly pink tinge, but he just arches an eyebrow at me. (And manages to make that look unfairly hot too, the prat.)

"What movie are you renting?" I say it like a challenge, and he pushes past me.

He deftly removes my DVD from the stubborn machine and thrusts it at me, before turning back around to get his own. I loiter behind him, just like he did to me, ready to see what movie he thinks is better than Die Hard.

"Two Weeks Notice?" I exclaim, when I see the poster pop up on the screen. "You're ridiculing Die Hard, but getting a rom-com for yourself? Unbelievable."

He pushes past me and turns up his nose. My blood boils for so many different reasons, and it's work to hold myself still.

"This has Hugh Grant in it. My tastes are superior."

Then he swans off, and I'm left standing on the kerb.

Baz

A year into my time at university, I started treating myself to a monthly visit to Sephora. It was easily excusable then, with parties every weekend to justify each new purchase, but I've kept up the tradition since graduating. (Retail therapy and good skin care never hurt anyone. And a little eyeliner does wonders for one's self esteem.)

This month, I'm browsing for something sparkly. My eyes are grey, but with a dark, glittery liner I think they might stand out a little more. I'm just testing one of the pencils on the back of my hand when I see him.

Blond hair, plain blue eyes, and a constellation of freckles and moles across his skin. The most lovely man I have ever seen, with the worst taste in movies, and (I'm sure) a well-deserved hatred for me.

For all that I try to appear cool and confident, my facade sometimes fails me. When I get flustered, I become cruel. The man renting Die Hard was so pretty that all I could do was insult him and then curse myself for it the entire way home. I couldn't even properly enjoy Hugh Grant, as mired as I was in self-loathing. And now, whatever second chance to impress him I've been granted with has surely been ruined by my actions last time.

I keep my head down and steal glances at him through my eyelashes.

He is entirely out of his element, that much is obvious right away. I watch him ask one of the shop assistants for help, and she points him in the direction of a display. His brow furrows as he picks up different containers, and he’s ridiculously precious and hopeless as he holds a lipstick tube next to a garish eyeshadow palette and closes one eye to look at them. (What is he even doing?)

Finally, his confusion seems to win out, and he turns to look around for help, when he suddenly spots me. I've been caught out; I can't pretend now like I haven't been staring, and he scowls a little as we make eye contact. I arch an eyebrow, watch as his face grows pink in anger, and decide I hate myself enough to try talking to him again.

"That's really not your shade."

"What?" It's a simple word, horribly enunciated, and does nothing to quell the wrinkle between his eyes.

"The purple. I don't think it would flatter you. Furthermore, that lipstick clashes horribly with every color in that palette."

He turns a bright red and starts to splutter. I am hopelessly endeared.

"That's not- I, I don't- it isn't-"

"Oh, calm down, there's nothing wrong with wearing makeup," I say, flashing him the back of my hand with the eyeliner tests on it. "You just need to pick a better shade." I pluck a different palette (for blue eyes) and a lipstick in a true red from the display and hand them over. "Something like this."

He stares at them dumbly for a moment, his mouth hanging open. (Mouth breather.)

"You think I should wear this?"

"I think it would flatter you if you chose to wear makeup. That purple will do you no favors." I sneer at the garish eyeshadow still in his hand.

"It's for my friend!" he finally bursts out.

"Are you mad at her?" It's a reasonable question, that eyeshadow is truly appalling.

"No? It's her birthday next week, and she said that she wanted to have some makeup for date nights and things."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No!" No hesitation at all. "No, no way. Penny is like my sister. She's my best friend. We're not…" he trails off, and I'm strangely reassured. He still probably hates me, but at least there is one woman in the world that he’s not dating, so my odds have improved marginally.

"Don't get your pants in a twist. I just thought you might be, since that eyeshadow would certainly drive away her current boyfriend."

He sticks out his chin and seems to decide something.

"Fine. What should I get for her, then?" The “if you know so much” is left unsaid.

I'm not really an expert, despite my monthly purchases, but I'll take any excuse I can get to linger around this starburst of a boy for a few moments more.

"Does she wear makeup normally?" He shakes his head no. "Then perhaps start with something more subtle for her." I take the offending palette away and hand him a more subdued one, with a faint shimmer. "Do you think this would look nice on her?"

He thinks hard for a moment, then pulls out his phone, swiping at the lock screen and turning it to face me.

"This is her."

His home screen background is a picture of the two of them, cheeks pressed together and grinning like crazy under the summer sun. His curls are being tossed by the wind, and he looks like a bronze Adonis. I think my heart actually skips a beat at the sight.

"That palette will be fine then. This lipstick, too," I add, handing him a plum shade. "Do you need anything else?" I ask, and then cringe when I sound like I'm working instead of flirting.

He shakes his head.

"No, this is brilliant, thanks."

He still looks a bit confused, and he bites his lip as he looks down at the makeup in his hand - the makeup for his friend, and the things I picked out for him.

I don't want to go, but I can't figure out any way to prolong our conversation.

"You should get that one," he says, pointing to one of the lines on my hand. I raise an eyebrow in question. He's right, but what does this mean? Is he flirting? Does he want me to wear eyeliner? Is he just trying to repay me for helping him? "Yeah. Definitely that one."

He raps his knuckles on the counter beside us twice, and then wanders towards the check out.

It's not until I'm trying to fall asleep that I realize - he bought the makeup for himself too.

Simon

One of my foster fathers had a workshop, and I spent a happy summer watching him build a table and matching chairs for the dining room. I didn't get to stay to see it completed, because one of his biological children kept stealing money out of his mom's purse and blaming me, but I still enjoyed the time I had spent watching woodworking. I liked it so much that when Penny and I graduated and got a flat together, I saved up to buy a few tools. I don't make anything major, but I've built small shelves and a side table and a pan organizer for the flat, and I really like it.

Recently, Penny has been complaining about not being able to reach everything in the kitchen, so while she's still at work I stop by the B&Q to pick up some wood for a step stool. I'm heading to the check out when I see him - the mean makeup guy. (Although he was actually quite nice when we were talking about makeup. He was just rude when we were getting our movies.)

He's dressed casually today, in tight dark jeans and a warm grey sweater, with his hair falling in loose waves around his face. He's glaring down at two wrenches, and I hate that he still looks so good when he's glowering.

Before I even register what's happening, my feet have carried me over to him.

"D'ya need help?"

He startles, and turns lovely grey eyes up to look at me. It's work not to gasp. He’s wearing eyeliner. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it may even be the eyeliner I told him to buy.

"The sink in my kitchen is leaking. I watched a tutorial on YouTube, and it should be easy enough to fix, but I don't have the proper tools."

He goes back to glaring at the wrenches, and I lean over to take a look.

“You want that one.”

“Why? How do you know?”

“Well, it’s adjustable. You can change it within reason, so as long as your plumbing isn’t something incredibly out of the ordinary it should fit just fine.”

He looks surprised (and maybe a bit like he wants to attack me, although I try to ignore that).

“How do you know that?”

I laugh.

“Basic home maintenance, mate, I’ve had to fix a leaky sink before too, believe it or not.”

I grin at him until one corner of his mouth tips upward in response.

“Thanks,” he says, his cheeks flushing a little. “I’ll get this one then. Yes. Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

He strides off, once again leaving me feeling a bit dazed.

He looks really good in eyeliner.

Baz

When Fiona discovered I hadn’t left the apartment in a week, she called in the cavalry. Daphne showed up at my door with a casserole and some flowers, and within minutes she had the kitchen feeling like a place that was less utility space and more home.

“Basil, Fiona is worried about you.” I rolled my eyes, despite knowing it wouldn’t get me anywhere. “I’m worried about you, too. You spend so much time by yourself, and you hardly ever go out to see your friends or enjoy the city.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Basil,” she had said, and that time it was a warning. “It’s not healthy for anyone to spend this much time alone.”

“What, do you expect me to get a cat?”

Daphne smiled, and I knew that I had said the wrong thing.

“Yes, actually. And,” she said, before I could object, “Fiona thought you should too. In fact, she made it a condition of your continued occupancy of this flat. We both think it might be nice for you to have someone else around to talk to.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“And you want me to talk to a cat?”

Daphne just gave me a Mona Lisa smile, handed me a plate filled with food, and told me when she left later that evening that I had forty-eight hours to send her a picture of a cat. (I asked what I should do if I didn’t like any of the cats I saw. Or if they didn’t like me. She said I had to at least prove that I tried.)

So, this morning, I made my way to the nearest RSPCA and talked to strangers for the first time in over a week. I told them that I was looking to adopt a cat, and they immediately led me to a room filled with individual cages and an assortment of felines. They said I could play with any of the cats that I wanted, and now I’m staring into the eyes of a fluffy orange tabby.

The tabby meows at me, and I swear that she’s telling me to get lost. I guess cats can tell when you’re out of your depth.

I stroll down the aisle and read the names given to each cat. It’s been years since I last had a pet and even then, the husky my family had wasn’t my sole responsibility. I was in charge of feeding him, but there was always someone else making sure that I did. And really, we only adopted him when my pediatrician suggested that an animal might help me after my mother died. Daphne is probably trying to do the same thing again now. (Is this how one becomes a crazy cat lady? Depression, anxiety, OCD, and an unwillingness to tolerate therapy?)

I keep walking slowly until I feel a tug on my sleeve. I look down, and a little orange paw ending in one very sharp claw has latched on to me. I unhook it before my sweater can snag, and then look into the kennel. There are two kittens, each only about ten weeks old according to their cards, and the orange one is peering up at me with big blue eyes. Its littermate is asleep in the corner, curled into a fluffy black puffball, but the tabby is ready to play. His tail twitches, and he pounces immediately when I wiggle a finger between the bars. He catches my fingertip in a far more gentle grasp than I would have imagined, then looks at me with what can only be described as pure adoration.

“Excuse me,” I say, moving my finger some more and feeling small claws dig in. Then again, louder, to get the attention of the woman, “Excuse me. Can I see this one?”

The woman comes over and flips the latch, then reaches in and comes out with a handful of fur and knives. The kitten opens its mouth in a fierce imitation of a vampire, then stretches it further as it lapses into a yawn. We spend the better part of an hour in a bright, cheerful room, just the kitten and I. At first it chases a string that I drag along the ground and runs after balls with bells in them, but then it calms down and curls up in my lap to sleep.

I’m petting it and cooing softly to it, trying to ignore the fact that Daphne and Fiona were both right about this whole thing, when the door to the room opens again.

“Oh. It’s you,” says the most beautiful man I have ever seen. My face flushes when I remember our last encounter and I pray he doesn’t remember my ignorance. (Of course he does. I didn’t know how to select a wrench. I am incapable of basic home repair and he knows it.)

“Do you two know each other?” The woman from before is back, this time holding the other kitten from the same cage, and looking between the two of us. “These kittens aren’t technically a bonded pair, but they are siblings, the only two remaining from their litter, and it would be lovely if they could still see each other.”

“Err…” the man says, shifting his weight.

“We’ve met in passing a few times now,” I say, trying to avoid encouraging this line of questioning.

“Great!” she says, clapping her hands brightly after handing the kitten off. “I’ll leave all of you to get better acquainted then!”

For a moment, there’s just awkward silence. Neither of us are looking at each other, both focusing on our respective kittens. Then, his kitten turns into the feline equivalent of a slinky, oozes out of his grasp, and runs over to tap my leg once before running away again. It hides behind his legs, and all I can see is a black tail winding around his ankles.

We both laugh, and the ice is broken.

“I’m Simon,” he says, and smiles at me. It’s the same radiant smile I remember from his lockscreen. It feels like looking into the sun, and I bask in it.

“Basil. Although my friends call me Baz.”

“Are you going to…” he trails off, but gestures to my cat.

“Yes,” I look down and give it a scratch under the chin. “I’m going to adopt it.”

“Same here,” Simon says, and then he blushes. “I mean, unless it rips my face off in the next few minutes, but I think this is the one.”

“Do you know which one you have?” Their names and genders were on the cage, but it didn’t specify who was who.

“No idea. I’m going to rename mine anyway though, I didn’t like either of those names.”

“I was planning on doing the same thing. If I’m going to have a pet, it needs to have a proper name befitting its personality. Not something mundane like Fluffy.” I scowl, and he laughs.

As his kitten comes over to touch its nose to my kitten, Simon clears his throat.

“So, um, like she said, they’d probably be happy to have playdates or whatever. I mean, since we’re getting them. And since we keep running into each other. It might make sense to, you know, exchange numbers?”

“Yes!” I say, far too eagerly. “I mean, that seems reasonable. It would be more convenient than waiting to happen upon you in the Waitrose choosing inferior crisps to set up a future meeting.”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, there’s that. And this way, it’ll be easier for me to ask you out, ”

Then the absolute nightmare sits down beside me and hands me his phone. He texts me immediately once I enter my contact info.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) This is Simon Snow

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) Your cat is cute.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) So are you

Unknown Number (11:28 AM) Wanna get dinner sometime? ;)

I blush, and send him a reply.

Baz (11:29 AM) I thought you’d never ask.

#snowbaz fic #Purr-fect Strangers #a gift for a friend!#fuff #my fic

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shiberpostshere · 4 years

Text

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

20. Chapter Sixteen: Happy Realisation✨ (Meant as a sarcastic remark to the Reader, wishing her Happy Realisation like Happy Birthday)

Previous Part✨ Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 2.2K (😳)

🌸

The Special Weekly Segment, Weekly Flower Delivery had thoroughly infiltrated your mind with admiration of love and swooning until you remembered that you decided to justify your feelings about Seonghwa, with Seonghwa by talking to Seonghwa.

Oh, Park Seonghwa.

What are you going to say? For starters, you had few options you considered:

1) 'Hey! Crazy story. Remember when I liked you in high school but I think it was childish, so I'd like to know what are your present thoughts about it?'

Fairly normal but quite formal.

2) 'Hello there kind sir. Would you like discussing our past embarassing affairs, mostly the mortifying felony committed by me over a glass of liquor?'

It feels like you're asking for great lord's hand in marriage, one who owns expansive estates in the 1740s.

3) 'Hey, Seonghwa, so you know how we've been spending some time together and I have been thinking about us, together, as in a dating, you know what I mean?'

'You know what I mean?' What are you about to do? Transcend into a rap battle?

At the end, you considered it's best to say what feels appropriate at the given situation.

Hopefully, it's appropriate.

The Dazzling Night group is buzzing excitement of accomplishment after the special segment.

The atmosphere shifting from a rather intimate confession to a declaration of never fading love has successfully set a mood for the team to celebrate the well executed show with chicken and beer by the riverside at midnight.

Yeosang and Mingi leave before the rest and decide to get the food on the way to arrange a seating area for comfortable dinner.

The remaining ride in Seonghwa's car after he frantically arrived at the studio looking fresh and clean.

After a short ten minute ride, you breathe in the gusts of winds, carrying a gentle scent of the river.

The location is a little crowded for the night but might disperse as the clock ticks by.

It isn't difficult to spot the waving figures of Yeosang and Mingi in a quiet corner, keeping a safe distance from other groups for private, mostly chaotic conversations of the group.

Jongho collapses on the mattress within a second of spotting it.

"This is the life of a successful segment planner." He states with a deep inhale.

"Okay bragger, save this for later. I'm hungry." Mingi pushes the boy out of the mattress, rolling him onto the grass but Jongho has no plans of sitting straight.

Yeosang twists open a bottle with fizzle. "We need to make a toast."

The rest of you begin arranging your dinner in front of the widespread, breathtaking view of the river and the brightly lit bridge.

Seonghwa and you begin unpacking the boxes of variety of chicken while Hongjoong pours out drinks for everyone.

"A toast? Why? Are we already done with Dazzling Night for this semester?" Hongjoong comments without looking up.

Yeosang gives him a look. "C'mon, read the mood." He falls back beside Mingi. "Seonghwa loves giving speeches anyway. We love a sentimental mood setter."

You nudge the mentioned boy. "Oh? Then I'm looking forward to it too!"

He plops down and rolls his eyes. "For once can you guys stop ganging up on me?"

Your best friend props up his body lazily, supporting his weight on his arms. "Make a toast, make a toast, make a toast."

You snicker and shake your head at the lack of enthusiasm. "Wow, you surely want him to make a toast."

Hongjoong offers you a small cup of beer. "Okay then, would you like to make a toast instead?"

Taken aback, you study the amount of twinkling eyes settled on you. "Oh, hell no." You thrust the cup at the suggested person.

Seonghwa looks at you with dramatic betrayal written all over his features. "My knight in--" His eyes study your frame, "My knight in jeans and flannel, I thought you'd surely save me."

The entire group bursts out in laughter.

Placing a hand on your hip, you gulp down the contents of the small cup. "Why did the ganging up shift from him" You jab a thumb at innocent looking Seonghwa, "To me?"

Jongho simply shrugs. There's an evident satisfaction displayed in his slackened movements.

You feel comfortable as well.

You're used to, no, you are loving the playful bantering but god forbid, you'll never admit this out loud, especially in front of the teasing devil himself.

"Alright, alright" Seonghwa refills your empty cup and lifts up his big one. "Here's a toast to not even a week into Dazzling Night yet to the most talented group of people making everyone's night, especially each other's by working together and supporting each other. How's that for a sentimental toast?"

All of you raise your plastic cups in unison with a gentle 'cheers' and down the booze in one shot.

Mingi wipes his non existent tears. "Fantastic. I'd like to thank my mother, my father and mostly importantly the baby account I followed on instagram two weeks ago which gives me joy---"

He is unable to finish his speech of 'gratitude' as Yeosang shoves him away with a quick push, making the tall boy almost land sideways on top of sauce pouches.

🌸

Throughout dinner, you simply cannot stop smiling or almost rolling over the grass.

It is truly a wild dinner.

One moment Hongjoong slaps away Yeosang's hand from stealing his well deserved chicken wing and another Jongho suddenly belts out a song to honour the evening, earning loud claps from the people seated nearby.

The conversations begin with Seonghwa and Hongjoong reminiscing their first meeting together, makes it's way through the emotional valley but eventually returns to the clowning station.

Time passes by quickly as you munch over different kinds of delicious chickens melting on your tongue with new flavours everytime you grab one from a different box.

Yeosang takes all the credit for the ten out of ten dinner and all the guys agree with the chicken maniac, as addressed by his friends.

As the night gets darker, people start disappearing slowly and you begin to notice the questionable amount of empty beer bottles lying around.

"I think I'm drunk." Hongjoong presses his temple with a wince.

Yeosang grabs the elder's arm and leans into his shoulder with a pout. "Yeosang wants to eat more chicken."

Jongho breaks into a fit of coughs while Mingi throws back his head, booming with laughter.

"Did he just refer to himself in third person?" Eyes wide, you turn to Seonghwa for an answer.

"Yeosang transforms into a cute little kid when he's drunk, he has a low alcohol tolerance." His cheeks are slightly tinted with the pink colour. You don't know if you should be trusting his tolerance either.

"Oh my god, I should totally make a video." Mingi pulls out his phone but Jongho is quick enough to snatch it.

"You don't want to see tomorrow's sunrise?"

Out of everyone, maybe even you, Jongho appears the most sober, as if he hasn't drank at all.

Hongjoong's hand gently pats the drunk one's back. "C'mon, it's getting late, let's go to the restroom and sober up so we can leave."

Jongho leaves his place with a sigh. "I'm going with those three, I think they need some supervision."

Seonghwa places down his refilled cup. "Good idea. I'll stay back with (y/n) and clean up."

You nod. It is indeed getting late.

The three drunk ones trudge towards the washrooms with a normal walking Jongho following behind.

"Let's clean this up, shall we?" You eye the mess scattered around.

As you try to lift your body with much difficulty, a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you down causing you to yelp.

"But you wanted to talk." You breath hitches for a moment as he turns sideways to place his forehead on your shoulder.

Oh, how you had hoped for him to magically forget about it.

You lift up his head with the support of one finger. "Are you sure you aren't drunk?"

His hands pat his cheeks a few times. "Definitely not drunk." He inches a little closer. "So, tell me."

A chuckle leaves your lips at his attempts to appear sober. "Oh, well, I don't know how to bring this up and I'd rather talk if you will remember this tomorrow as much as I want you to forget."

His shoulders slump. "Oh, (Y/N), is this about our cute little history that you find embarassing."

"What? How did you know that? Wait, who told you---" You blabber out surprised and to deepen the surprise he places a finger on your lips.

"Hey, hey, calm down." His eyes land on the finger and he quickly retrieves it. He clears his throat. "I mean, it is a little obvious. I think it is obvious to everyone but you."

Your cheeks heat up a little at his statement. "Obvious? Okay, since it is that obvious. Yes, yes I am a little embarassed, maybe more than a little embarassed."

Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, an intense look in his eyes. "That's not what I meant (Y/N) but tell me what are you embarassed about?"

Gathering your legs closer to your chest, you place your chin in between the knees. "Well, you know" You let your words trail but draw in a deep breath. "I was fifteen and what happened was silly and ever since we started hanging out together, I feel really comfortable with you and you're really nice. Oh my god, I'm getting nowhere with this." Your feet begin moving in a continous motion.

Seonghwa fixes his posture and sits up straight. "(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" You look up.

"I liked fifteen year old you. A girl who liked me, often encouraged me even though she didn't understand 11th grade struggles but it's not something that I look back at and make fun of but it's a fond memory that there was a cute girl who liked me back when I was young and too tense for a 17 year old boy." His precise answer tugs a string of your heart.

"Yeah, you were too tense for a 17 year old boy. Remember how you often lectured me like you understand all concepts of the world at such an young age." You comment with an playful smile.

A picture of a young Seonghwa passionately explaining time management like a professor pops up in your mind with a young you listening as if he's reciting a romantic poem. Oh, how smitten you were.

Funnily enough, you still are.

Seonghwa pushes his fingers through his hair with a shy smile, eyes focused on the night sky. "Oh my god. I can't believe you remember that."

You bump your shoulder with his. "How can I forget, you were adorable."

A stange energy is brewing within you. This comfort is unmatched.

He turns to you, fingers suddenly grab your cheeks. "Don't get cheeky with me now." He says in an extremely soft voice.

"Hey, this is not fair. What are you doing?" You get a hold on both of his hand to remove them but fail.

He pulls them a little before letting them go, you rub the sore spots. "You're as much as a troublemaker as you were back then, you just hide it now. Don't you?"

Maybe it's the courage supplied by the little alcohol in your system or maybe it's just him, you grab his face with your hands.

His eyes widen at your actions. "What are you doing?"

You gently bump your forehead onto his. "I'm trying to be bold and knocking some sense into you."

The shocked expression subdues into a serious one. One you hadn't expected to see. "I wouldn't suggest that. What if I really end up forgetting what you're about to do next?"

As soon as he speaks those words, you let go of his face and create a safe distance between you two. "What do you mean? I wasn't going to do anything but bump my forehead with yours! What are you thinking!"

He begins stuffing the empty chicken boxes into each other pretending as if you weren't just inches apart a second ago.

"What if I end up bumping my forehead even harder than you did?" He asks with the most false concern present on his face.

You grab the nearest bottle cap and aim it right at his forehead but he's too quick to catch it. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"YOU stop being cheeky, can't you tell I was trying to flirt with you!" You let both of your hands rest on your hips.

His mouth forms an "O". "I mean, I should definitely do that, I have the right to. It's not like you know that I've been flirting with you all this time."

You freeze for a moment, eyes blinking twice. "You've been flirting with me?"

He throws up his hands in an exasperated gesture.

"Wait, you've been flirting with me? You weren't just having fun making me suffer by being extremely kind and nice yet teasing and--" The long list of conversations run in your mind and then it pings. "Oh."

Seonghwa begins clapping. "Thank you so much for finally noticing."

Your fall down on the support of your knees.

"Oh my god, Park Seonghwa has been flirting with me all this time"

You realise you've said it out loud and wish to sink further into your hands.

"Yes, I have been." His fingers gently ruffle your hair. "Now, clean this up before Jongho comes back and grumbles about it."

You slowly lift up your head and look at him casually collecting the mess, unphased.

"You're not going to let this one die. Are you?" Hesitant, you await an answer.

He chuckles. "Of course not."

"Fantastic." You stand up, unable to shake off the realisation.

🌸

Pairing: College Student! Seonghwa x College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you "borrowed" once a kiss from. Years have passed and it's a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you're to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

🌸

A/N: This user is about to lose her sanity because Tumblr does not save her drafts and likes messing with her already remaining braincells. (I edited this once, I'll edit it again tomorrow)

BUT! THOUGHTS? what do we think after reading this chapter?

After writing this I low-key wanna start a written fic he-he.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 💫

🌸Tags:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @preets-kpop-world @missiopk @rae-woo @sanisms @retrofuture-ism @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @seong-hwa1998 @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @kokoboxp @choisaniskillingme @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @cobbiebaexqueen @uppiespuppy @mingiflower

🌸Unable to tag: @mingiibabieee @dreamie-deonghwa

🌸

Do not repost, modify or claim the writing or images.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateezsmau #ateez sm au #ateez text au #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fake texts #ateez au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #jung wooyoung #song mingi #choi jongho

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