#I like the layers and I like the short hair

[eightmakesonebraincell]

can i get a name for your drink? yeah, peter parker

genre: delinquent!ateez x bubble tea worker!reader, meet-cute, high school au, fluff, crack

length: 6.6k

c/w: cliche depictions of high school delinquents, mentions of smoking, drugs and clubs, boys trying to act tough, everybody has bad humour, swearing is their mother tongue

synopsis: a bubble tea shop is one of the last places you would expect for a high school delinquent to walk into during the dead of night. yet here you are, forming an unlikely friendship with not one but eight of them. they may be kind of stupid, but they also kind of grow on you.

a/n: a fic with no angst? a fic without a 40k wc?? new writer who dis. just a short and sweet fic @sorryimananti-romantic helped prod me to write

you know that you are probably shaving a couple months off your lifespan each time you work a night shift at the bubble tea shop and subsequently fuck up your entire sleep routine for the next couple of days, but it gives you a bit of extra money, there are hardly any customers, and it is quiet enough that you can squeeze in some studying at the same time.

the shop probably averages about two couples and a few odd individuals here and there per night. why a small business would even decide to stay open during ghost hours in the first place, likely making negative profit, you have no idea. but you digress–you are just here to bum around for money.

so when your average customer number suddenly spikes not just by one, two or three people, but by an entire group of eight, it is safe to say you are more than confused. they are obviously your age because you can recognise the school crest embroidered onto the front pocket of their uniform shirts; it is one of the nearby high schools in the area. except, that is where the similarity ends.

only half of them are wearing their uniform, and even then they layer it unbuttoned over bold statement t-shirts like it is a mere accessory. the others wear black tracksuits and there is not a single pair of proper school shoes to be seen. your eyes cannot help but scan their pierced ears and obviously-styled hairstyles–you are pretty sure the shortest boy has dyed his hair a lighter shade of brown too.

it is hard to take your attention off of him as he takes one last drag of the cigarette in his hand, lazily blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth before he flicks the butt onto the floor outside and steps in through the door along with the others. you idly wonder how he got his hands on a fake id to purchase cigarettes in the first place, but at least he is polite about not smoking inside your store.

the group saunters up and you startle slightly as the boy at the front slaps his hand against the counter with the matching confidence to his glorified 6 foot height to demand, “give me a double shot of espresso.” he pulls away his hand to reveal a mismatched assortment of sad coins and crumpled notes.

“we, uh–” you glance not so subtly at the wall-sized menu behind you and the LED lighting decor sprawled across the other three walls with the phrases, ‘you’re a cu-tea’, ‘you’re pearl-fect’, and ‘you’re my bo-bae’, and wonder what gave these boys the impression they could order coffee. “we don’t sell coffee,” you state.

he does not seem fazed by your words at all. “can’t you just, like, charge me for your most expensive drink and make me a coffee?” he asks his absurd question with practiced ease, which makes you think that this is not his first rodeo.

unfortunately for him though, you deadpan, “i physically can’t. we don’t have a coffee machine.”

the boy’s expression finally cracks a little and you can literally see the cogs slowing down to a stop inside his brain. “aw, fuck,” he swears, “this worked last time.”

one his friends shrugs callously and snickers, “what did i say, mingi. told you they wouldn’t have one.”

“shut up, jongho,” he gripes in response.

you gesture vaguely at the laminated menu on the counter beside the cash register. “would you like something else to drink?” you offer.

the tall boy–mingi–takes all but one look at the barrage of words before his eyes flicker back up towards you. “recommend something.”

“depends on what you’re feeling,” you hum your scripted question, pointing to the different sections of the menu. “do you want something fruity or milky?”

he looks constipated as he weighs the two options. “fruity?” he eventually settles, still sounding unsure. “what’s good?”

at the question, all of their eyes turn to look at you intently and you feel yourself wilting internally at the thought of explaining the drinks to a group of boys that look like outright delinquents, because if there is one downside to working here apart from the crippling health impacts, it is the loss of your dignity each time you have to say the stupid names of the drinks.

“well,” you clear your throat and steel yourself, “we’ve got the bubbly butterfly blues, a purple grape and blueberry fruit ade, or the mysterious mermaid magic, a mango and passionfruit green tea with rainbow pearls.” you forge on with your explanations despite the furrowed brows and open mouths of judgement on their faces, deciding to give them a recommendation for a milky drink too just in case. “the rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles is also pretty popular. it’s a strawberry milk tea with whipped cream, sprinkles and marshm–”

“i’ll take that one,” mingi interrupts, unable to stand the onslaught of words that make the world around him explode into pink glitter. he drops an additional crinkled note onto the counter for good measure and then strides away to take a seat at the table in the furthest corner of the store to wait for his cutesy drink.

half a snort escapes the back of your throat at the sight. mingi may as well hold a megaphone to his mouth and shout “i am a manly man!” to make himself feel better. what an idiot.

you shift your attention to the rest of the group. “anything i can get for you guys?” you ask.

“fuck it, why not,” the one who had been smoking shrugs immediately. “get me the same thing he’s getting.”

most of the others pass and step away to join mingi at the table as you sort out the payment for delinquent number two’s cutesy drink. when you close the cash register–you are tempted to ask them why they have so many loose coins–the last two of the boys sidle up to the other side of the counter, peering down carefully at the menu.

you frown.

these two are actually wearing their uniform properly, only the first buttons of their shirt undone, no brightly-coloured tee peeking out from underneath, ties still around their neck and shirts tucked into their pants. they are even wearing their name tags; kang yeosang and park seonghwa. also, apart from the fact that the two appear prim and proper enough to be part of the student council, they are also very pretty.

said two look up at you, catch the frown across your face, fumble a little, then give you a small smile as a peace offering. “hi,” seonghwa greets softly, “can we get two regular pearl milk teas, please? thank you.”

you physically recoil.

“blink twice if you’re being threatened,” you blurt out, the words tumbling unwisely out of your mouth before you can stop them and definitely loud enough that all eight of the boys can hear you.

blink twice seonghwa and yeosang do, but not as a confirmation that the stark difference in their appearance and demeanour to the others is a sign they are being bullied into hanging out. they blink to ask–very respectfully–what the fuck you are on about.

they blink at you. you blink at them. the other boys blink at the three of you.

“sure thing!” you vocally sweep your own words under the rug. “two regular pearl milk teas coming right up!”

you swipe yeosang’s payment out of his hands–notes and coins carefully counted out to the exact amount–and punch the number into the cashier before swiftly turning your back to them to make their drinks. if you ignore something hard enough then it never happened. and it works, because they retreat to join the rest of their friends at the furthest table without further comment.

it does not take long to make all four of their drinks, but you do take a few extra minutes to carefully swirl the whipped cream on top of the strawberry milk tea orders and artistically shower them with sprinkles and marshmallows. you want to make them as cute as you fucking possibly can just for mingi.

“two rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles and two regular pearl milk teas,” you call out.

they all stand up, likely ready to leave once they grab their drinks. mingi leads the group with his long strides and he picks up his drink with one hand. he holds it up to eye level to study it like an unknown specimen and the moment he picks it up, one of his friends–you think you overheard the others call him wooyoung–cannot help but blurt out with distaste, “that shit looks sweet as fuck.”

mingi holds his drink closer to his body with a light glare because hey, it does look sweet as fuck but it also actually looks really good. and kind of cute, he will admit. he takes a tentative sip through the straw then a small lick of the whipped cream on top, the scattered toppings simultaneously crunching and melting in his mouth to spread sweet diabetes across his tongue.

it tastes like drugs in sugar form.

and it must show on his face because the tallest of his friends leans over to do the same, taking a sip from the same straw and a lick of the whipped cream from the other side, only far more generous and daring than the drink’s owner.

“bro,” comes the tall boy’s immediate reaction, “i’d get one of these every day.”

wooyoung suddenly looks less dubious and asks, curiosity now piqued, “give me a sip of that rainbow shit.”

“no,” mingi instantly responds, still keeping his drink close to his body and literally turning away to keep it protected and out of wooyoung’s reach. “you insulted my drink. get your own.”

the latter whines and you physically jerk backwards for the second time that night at their complete disregard for following stereotypical delinquent traits. you are starting to think that they are not delinquents so much as delinquent-wannabes and they seem increasingly harmless the more they simply exist.

“hongjoong,” wooyoung suddenly sings out, appearing to change targets to his other friend who had ordered the same drink. he is determined to try a sip tonight without having to spend his own money, but alas–

hongjoong flips him off and cradles his drink out of sight too. “you insulted my drink by extension.”

–determination can only get him so far.

this time, you cannot help the proper snort of amusement that leaves your mouth. you dare to hold your gaze with a lightly teasing lilt of your lips when wooyoung whips his head around with narrowed eyes. the boy cogs turn in his head as he deduces how far he can push the boundaries with you and he must come to some sort of conclusion that you are a newfound stranger-friend because he jokes with a straight face, “i’ll rob you.”

“sure,” you answer easily, tapping in a fake order onto the register’s screen to eject the cash drawer with a comedic ding! emphasising your words.

a few of them guffaw and wooyoung’s expression lights up to actually reach over the counter to help himself to a ten dollar bill. that is, until his hand is slapped away by somebody else with quite possibly the most perfect eyebrows you have ever seen. and no. you are most definitely not jealous.

“i’ll pay for your drink,” the friend chides, digging into his back pocket to fish out his wallet.

seonghwa shakes his head and advises, “don’t enable him, san,” at the same time that wooyoung brattily decides, “nah, don’t want one.”

“god, that’s it,” jongho mutters, starting to usher the group away from the counter towards the direction of the doors. “we’re leaving. mingi’s waiting outside already.”

they let themselves be herded and a few of them even turn to wave goodbye to you at the doors, cheerfully leaving behind the words ‘we’ll be back!’ in their wake as they exit the shop. your hand remains suspended in the air mid-wave even after they have disappeared and you blink blankly at the bizarreness of your entire encounter with the group of boys.

you do not know if they truly mean it when they say they will be back, but you do know one thing; you kind of hope that they do.

“can i get that thing i got last week.”

the tone of mingi’s voice ends his sentence more like it is a demand than it is a question, but the nuance of his words is still a request and already an improvement in comparison to your first encounter with him. if you are completely honest, you are also somewhat happy to see him and the others come back, so you will take the wins where you can. baby steps.

“which one?” you clarify. “i don’t remember.”

you do remember because their group of eight is pretty hard to forget, and they are some of the only customers you ever get. plus, you have made it somewhat of a personal challenge to hear mingi say something as stupid as ‘rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles’, which means that you are going to pretend for as long as you need to.

he scratches the side of his neck. “y’know, that drink you said is good.”

“we have a couple of those. was it the, uh, mysterious mermaid magic?” your head tilts with exaggerated thoughtfulness and from behind mingi, hongjoong and wooyoung cackle while the others look on with smirks, having caught on to exactly what you are doing.

“no, the rainbow unic…” he mumbles, voice growing increasingly softer with each syllable until his mouth is simply opening and closing.

you look at him with faux apologeticness and furrow your brows, “sorry? i didn’t quite catch that.”

“say it louder, dude,” his tall friend nudges him playfully. you are going to need to find out his name somehow because his is the only one you have yet to figure out, and you have a feeling you and him would get along real good.

“the rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles,” mingi finally gets out. if he were a cartoon character, you would see the rising colour of bright red creep up from under his uniform to the tip of his ears and then to the very roots of his hair.

god forbid a manly man purchase a cutesy pick-me-up drink on a friday night.

you smile brightly and use your cheeriest customer service voice to announce, “one rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles for princess mingi coming right up.”

the boy in front of you is flattered to learn that you know and remember his name but is also twice as horrified by the nickname you have crowned him with. his brain short circuits and his eyes widen at you in panicked masculinity and he shoves his payment across the counter before retreating to the same table in the corner of the store where seonghwa is already seated. if you look closely enough, there is a little wisp of smoke coming out from the top of mingi’s head too as he malfunctions. heh.

the boy whose name you still do not know comes up to the counter next. he jerks his head backwards in the direction of mingi and orders, “could i get the same? that rainbow fairy sparkling unicorn or whatever.” the name is wrong but he gets an a+ for trying so you do not correct him, simply nodding and putting his order into the cash register instead.

then you ask for your own personal gain, “can i get a name for your drink?”

he does not appear to question your intentions nor realise he is the only one you have asked because he is too occupied grinning widely at you, unable to curb his cheeky excitement at the thought of what he is about to say. “yeah, peter parker,” comes his proud answer, quite literally naming his drink.

and that is how you find out that he has the best (read: worst) humour out of all of the boys.

it is frankly right up your alley but you refuse to let him one-up you. instead, you use it to your advantage. you nod, “p.p. for short,” dragging the abbreviated initials out for longer so that it sounds intentionally crude.

“peepee,” wooyoung repeats with unrestrained laughter, high-pitched shrieking that sets off the others as well.

and that is also how you find out that wooyoung has the easiest funny bone to tickle out of all the boys.

p.p.’s eyes glint with delight at the fact that you can both take and dish out your own freak. he leans against the countertop on his elbow, which is a sight to behold with how far he has to stoop down because of his height, and exposes you with no qualms, “it’s yunho, by the way, since you wanted to know my name so badly.” he adds a flirty wink for good measure as his friends ooh like the true teenage boys that they are.

you mirror his mannerisms and bat your eyelashes at him to say, “okay, whatever you say, peepee.”

hongjoong intervenes and shoves yunho aside before the latter can fall in love with you and your wack-ass humour or something. he shoos him away, “go sit at the table,” as if he is sending the taller into the naughty corner.

yunho concedes with his hands raised in mock surrender, walking backwards as he reassures his friend, “don’t worry. you won’t hear a peep-ee out of me.”

your facade cracks and you let out a laugh, which only grows louder when jongho takes the liberty to grab a wrapped straw from the container on your countertop to peg it at yunho’s face. it bounces perfectly off the middle of his forehead and lands on the floor, where seonghwa–bless him–bends down to pick it up. you think he might just be your favourite.

“didn’t know you were into that kind of humour,” hongjoong notes with a tone of amusement.

“oh, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you respond, a hint of flirtatiousness in your words.

fuck being professional. these boys would probably be the last people on earth to ever report you for something like a coquettish comment, and god forbid you want to flirt with a couple of really hot guys. the image of hongjoong taking a lazy drag from his cigarette burns at the forefront of your mind as he stares intently into your eyes, and his seeming nonchalance to his own charm only makes him that much more attractive.

he raises an eyebrow, “is that a challenge?”

“only if you’re up for it,” you respond coyly.

san coughs and interrupts, “not to be a cockblock, but can you flirt after we order our drinks.”

the boy in front of you rolls his eyes, pairing it with a loving middle finger at his friend. however, he moves over anyway, half mumbling that he is not going to get a drink. his spot at the counter is immediately snagged by san who mimics yunho’s earlier pose leaning against the surface. “so,” he gives you an overly-smouldering gaze, “tell me something about yourself that i don’t know.”

a bubble of mirth rises from out of your chest and san drops the act utterly pleased with himself. you humour him, though only partially, by revealing, “the desserts here are actually really good. i love the cookies.”

“which one’s your favourite?”

you point to one of the cookies in the second row of the display counter. “the biscoff and peanut butter fudge.”

one of his beautiful brows raises upwards as if to ask why the cookie name is so normal. you give him a miniscule shrug. beats me. he shakes his head with a slight chuckle then requests, “i’ll have one of each cookie and one of each donut that you’ve got.” your eyes bug out of your head because that is a fuckton of cookies and donuts, but san reassures you they all have caves for stomachs.

you get started on their drinks then slide the glass doors open to pull their desserts out, only to realise that yeosang has lingered close by to watch you. he is not wearing his uniform today, instead in a tracksuit like the others but in white. he looks good in that colour and you tell him such, “your tracksuit looks good.”

“thanks,” he replies easily, “wooyoung shoplifted it for me.”

your jaw drops at his sudden confession, too taken aback to appropriately school your expression in time even if you should not really be too surprised by their shenanigans. at your obvious stupor, yeosang’s stoic face breaks immediately and he reveals, “just kidding, hehe.” despite his joke, he blushes to the very tip of his ears like rudolph but elf style and rushes away.

you are left dumbfounded in a good way. one day, you are going to teach yeosang a thing or two about confidence because his uncanny ability to keep a straight face whilst saying the most out-of-left-field thing when it is least expected then leaving the other person wondering whether he is being genuine or only joking is top-tier humour–he just needs to learn how to own it.

you are also left wondering whether there is a single sane soul in this friendship group. you still hold some hope for seonghwa and maybe san, but who knows.

when their drinks and spread of desserts are ready, you expect them all to leave like they did last week. except this time they drag two circular tables closer together in the far corner of the store that they seem hellbent on claiming as their spot, where they then lay out all of the desserts across the joint surface. you watch from behind the counter. there is both a sense of systematic order and chaotic mess to the way they take a bite out of a cookie or donut, nod enthusiastically at how good it tastes whilst shoving it into the face of somebody else, who will in turn take a bite and join in on the enthusiastic nodding and moan an affirmative that it is good.

“wait, this donut is fucking fire,” you hear, and, “this cookie is The Shit, bro.”

they are sort of really fucking cute; boys you would expect to see loitering in alleyways with cigs in their mouths and sneaking into clubs with fakes to pop pills, instead sitting hunched over on cute plastic stools around rickety circular tables sharing sweet desserts like they are at a tea party.

wooyoung catches your gaze over the top of jongho’s head and he gets up instantly to drag you out from behind your counter. all of your warbled protests go unheard as he pulls you by one of your loose apron ties–his strangely endearing way of being respectful not to actually touch you–towards their tables whilst refuting, “there’s nobody else in here but us.”

that is how you find yourself squashed between seonghwa and jongho, your shoulders and thighs touching from close proximity.

“try this blueberry lemon cookie,” seonghwa offers from beside you the moment you sit down, extending the treat for you to take a bite from.

mingi so helpfully reminds, “she literally works here.”

seonghwa shushes him, “yeah, but she probably hasn’t tried everything on the menu.”

he is not wrong. you may have the appetite, but you do not have the physical stomach to try an entire serving of each dessert available in the shop, even if you were to try one per shift. now that the opportunity has handed itself to you on a silver platter, you are not going to refuse. plus, you do not think that you could ever bring yourself to say no when seonghwa is holding the cookie out with both hands so eagerly.

he is definitely your favourite.

you take a tentative bite out of the cookie and eight pairs of shiny eyes do not leave yours until you give them an affirmative and enthusiastic nod at its taste. all flurry of activity starts up again as they continue to trade desserts with those sitting beside them and across the circle. it feels like you are suddenly back in primary school, sharing your snacks out of your lunch box and trading sandwiches with your friends. they include you easily in both taste-testing and conversation, filling your usually quiet shift with antics and laughter.

it has always been a perk that you do not get many customers, but now more so than ever, you hope that nobody comes in for the remainder of your shift–or at the very least, not until the boys leave. in just two meetings, they have all grown on you in their own ways and you kind of want this to become a regular thing. you could definitely get used to this.

despite their appearances and rough-around-the-edges personalities, they are really just a bunch of boys living their life to the fullest in the diabetic form of bubble tea, loaded cookies and glazed donut runs in the middle of a random night.

and honestly? if you had a group of friends like them, you would too.

yunho’s eyes narrow fiercely at the couple who are walking along the footpath outside the perimeter of your shop, daring them to step in through the doors. his glare is not needed though–the very sight of what is going down inside is more than enough for their eyes to widen and for the man to hastily pull his girlfriend away.

“oh look, there goes another two potential customers,” hongjoong notes with sarcastic dismay. “i wonder why people are always in such a hurry to leave.”

yunho blinks his murderous intent away and faces you with round, innocent eyes as you roll your own and cross your arms. your insides wilt at the loss of potential revenue but only by a tad, because whatever business they boys scare off, they make up for several times over. you state as a matter-of-factly, “maybe it has something to do with jongho.”

said boy currently stands about three feet away from you, his arms raised and fists clenched threateningly as the rest of the boys surround the both of you in a circle of sorts as if they are about to witness a bloody fistfight. you suppose it does not look too far from the truth–you are about to get punched in the face.

jongho shrugs dismissively, “it’s not my fault other people aren’t interested in learning how to get knocked out by a sucker punch safely.”

“i don’t think any of those words should go together in a single sentence,” you tell him honestly, unimpressed.

“they normally don’t,” jongho’s mouth ticks up, “which is exactly why you’re learning.”

you cannot win against him or any of them. last week it had been learning how to pop a dislocated shoulder back into place, the week before it had been how to dislocate a shoulder, and then the week before that it had been how to reverse-jump a person if they were chasing you into an alleyway.

it has become an ingrained part of your weekly routine for the boys to rock up during your friday night shift, order half the menu, hang around for hours where you usually join them, then leave until the next week rolls around again. but these random tutorials have only just recently become a new routine within your pre-existing routine.

it all started when wooyoung snuck behind your counter one night while your back was turned to make their drinks and decided it would be hilarious to scream in your face as you turned around. you had jerked backwards so hard that you knocked over the entire stack of blender jars, which toppled over into the dirty sink one after the other like noisy dominoes. seonghwa had made wooyoung personally clean and stack them all again as punishment, but the damage had been done and hongjoong had declared that you would not survive in the real world if a little fright like that could make your butthole pucker right back up into your own intestinal system.

and so had begun your weekly crash courses on survival instincts because according to them, you had none. you had refused to submit to their antics at first, but then yeosang had pointed out, “it’s true. wooyoung was standing behind you like a creep for a full five minutes and you didn’t even notice.” san had also threatened that they would not order anything until you complied each week.

“that’s not fair,” you had complained petulantly. “i just won’t serve you guys at all then.”

san had given you a cheshire grin. “you wouldn’t. we’re like, eighty percent of the total revenue you make during your shift.”

that shuts you up real quick and san knows, so you have no choice but to give in to whatever tomfoolery they choose to teach you for that week. if it is learning to ‘get knocked out by a sucker punch safely’, then so be it.

“okay, i’m all set to be punched in the future,” you declare dryly as jongho reigns in his fist after a pretend swing at your temple, “are you guys going to order now?”

hongjoong nods like he is the little leader of this delinquent gang, but jokes on him because they follow behind you to gather in front of the counter in a single file of sorts with practiced ease, an endearingly crooked line of ducklings. you know right off the bat that it means they already know what they want to order because other times they will come together as pairs or even triplets so that they can umm and ahh over the menu together.

you do not think you can ever take them seriously as proper delinquents–if they even count as such.

as if to prove your point even further, mingi throws up double gang signs and makes a poor attempt to rap, “i want an emineminem,” and when seonghwa not-so-subtly pinches his elbow, he adds on, “please.”

you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing as your hands automatically move to input his order into the register, long past familiar with what his order truly means; mysterious mermaid magic, because the alliteration of the name ‘m and m and m’ sounds the same as the rapper’s name twice. go figure. you do not know if ‘emineminem’ is worse, or, as san calls it whilst flexing his biceps, ‘the merman’.

the boys have a shockingly terrible incapacity to remember the names on the menu correctly, but it is also partially due to the fact that they could give less than zero fucks about them. they will either say what they think the name is, or what they think the name should be.

they make the rules. you simply follow.

the first time it happened was during their third time at the store. “yo, give me a triple b,” jongho had confidently ordered.

“a fuckin’ what?” you were positive you were having a stroke.

“a triple b,” he had tried again, frowning at how you did not automatically understand him. “the big butterfly bus or somethin’.”

you could not take him seriously. “big butterfly bus? what are they gonna do after hopping on? go to fucking school?” you had jested. “also, you can’t just make up your own name and expect me to–you know what, sure.”

it sort of becomes a game. you will roll over in your grave before admitting it, but it is sort of fun to hear an absolutely rubbish string of words–or letters–come out of their mouths for you to then follow their ridiculous train of thought backwards to work out what the actual drink is. the silly boys with their silly names kind of grow on you.

and you may or may not indulge them a little too much. they are the first to try any new items on the menu, even when they are still technically not meant to be available to the general public. but when they pounce on whatever you present to them on the table like puppies and fresh kibble, it is very hard not to keep doing so. which is exactly why you bring out the batch of cupcakes you had made earlier specifically for them to taste.

they look like normal vanilla-frosted cupcakes, except when you bite into them, there is a dark chocolate cookie inside the base. it is the perfect mix of soft and chewy, and when the gooeyness is maximised by slightly warming the dessert up, it is–

“fucking fire, bro,” yunho says around a mouthful, blatantly ignoring the dirty look that seonghwa shoots him for talking with food in his mouth.

yeosang inspects the cookie at the core. “have you named it yet?”

you do not get a say in what the menu items are named and they always do in fact already have a name by the time the boys get to try them. regardless, you answer, “not yet,” because they love the power trip they get when they have creative liberty over your store’s products.

“i have an idea,” wooyoung pipes up immediately. “the frosted ultimate cookie cupcake.” then in a falsetto voice, he role-plays by himself, “hi, could i get a fucc please?”

mingi snorts himself silly and continues, “actually, could you give me two fucks?”

you oblige, “fuck you, and double fuck you,” flashing your middle finger at wooyoung first then mingi second to punctuate the fucks you are gifting them.

the boys snicker at your crudeness, absolutely delighted. not the type to let any opportunity to swear go by, the rest of them join in as san yanks you down to sit at the table with them before you can roll your eyes and walk away.

and out of all moments, it is this exact moment, when you are surrounded by the eight of them throwing out colourful words left and right with the giddy enthusiasm of toddlers, each holding a half-eaten vanilla-frosted cookie cupcake in their hands, that you realise you may actually give a few too many fucks about them…and not just in a friendly way.

well. fuck.

when you get a call on friday morning from your branch manager the following week, your immediate thought is that somebody finally chanced upon watching the store’s security footage and you have been caught making friends with delinquent customers and literally feeding them with business secrets. except when you pick up and tentatively greet him, he starts to say something that is arguably just as bad.

“i need you to swap shifts with gayoung. she can’t work this tuesday night so i need you to cover that day ‘cause there’s nobody else available,” he informs. “gayoung will cover your shift tonight instead.”

you are still trying to process his words as you repeat, “tonight?”

“yes, so you won’t need to go into work tonight.”

your heart skips a beat. for the first time in your life, you find yourself asking, “can’t i take both shifts?”

“no, you can’t. sorry,” your manager apologises but he does not sound sorry at all.

you have never voluntarily taken up extra night shifts, much less asked to take up additional shifts. yet, there is a heavy sense of disappointment that simultaneously settles itself deep inside your stomach and lodges itself in your throat, because it is friday today and friday night is for your boys. you do not even have a way of letting them know that you will not be in tonight.

you wonder if they will notice your absence and whether they will care. after all, you may just be somebody who happens to work at the bubble tea shop they frequent. but it turns out that they do and turns out you are not.

“where were you?”

those are the first words that are thrown at you the moment the boys walk through the door during your friday shift the week after you swapped nights with gayoung. they stomp up to your counter sporting furrowed brows and pressed lips, and if it were not for seonghwa’s soft smile and warm, “we missed seeing you,” you would have thought that they were angry at you.

you can only imagine how terrifying their demeanours would be if they were actually to be angry.

“my manager made me swap shifts with another coworker,” you explain and their expressions soften immediately.

jongho breaks out into a triumphant smirk as he turns to hongjoong with an upturned palm. “i told you. pay up.”

the latter sheepishly pulls out some crumpled notes as you gawk, “you bet on why i wasn’t at work?”

“don’t mind them,” wooyoung waves his hand dismissively. “hongjoong has trust issues–said that you were avoiding us.”

“i would never!” you refute at the same time that hongjoong exclaims, “i did not!”

“either way, fuck your manager. the fucking audacity to take you off our shift?” wooyoung complains.

you try to keep a straight face at the fact that wooyoung has just very casually claimed your shift–and by extension, you–as theirs. you babble the first thing that comes to mind, “the drinks are all made using the same recipe. it doesn’t matter who makes them.”

yunho’s eyes narrow with offense that you would even suggest a thing. “it’s nowhere near the same.” he is not the only one who wants to tell you that as long as it is not you it will never be the same.

their collective thoughts come out instead through mingi, “nobody understands when we order a triple b or an emineminem or a ‘horse drink’.”

“yeah, no shit sherlock,” you fire back, because apparently sarcasm is your automatic defense mechanism when you are flustered, “might help if you call them by their proper names.”

“or maybe the problem is that nobody knows us well enough like you do,” san insists with a wink and in response, yeosang reveals, “we don’t let just anybody get close to us.”

you joke before you can truly think your words through, “sounds like a you problem then.”

“you’re right,” hongjoong banters easily with smugness.

your nervous fidgeting as you tap useless buttons on the screen of your register gives you away despite your attempts to stay collected. they chuckle and it is difficult not to crumble under their unwavering gazes because it is obvious they can see right through your facade. but can anybody really blame you when you had not been expecting them to reciprocate your feelings of interest, much less admit to it so easily and straightforwardly?

in a last ditch attempt to regain some control over the conversation, you ask, “so, what do you guys want to order?”

from day one, the boys have surprised you in the most unpredictable ways–eight not-quite-delinquent delinquents with simultaneously calloused fists, pottied mouths and insatiable sweet tooth. today is no exception, and you have a feeling that you should start becoming accustomed to their antics because they are here to stay, especially after today.

“what we want to order?” they look at you with confident flirtatiousness. “your phone number and a date.”

taglist pt. one | apply for taglist

@thecarnivaloflies @ilovekimhongjoong @yuranimous @ppprimary @hwas-housewife 

@itza-meee @lavishloving @okshu @mizumigi @everythingboutkpop

@ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent

@darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178 @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi

@mimilia1801 @kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar @aaa-sia

@nollamuumialaaksossa @skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @joongscheese @ddeonghwva

@delulu18 @teenyfinds @shakalakaboomboo @hxpelesscxven @fureastel

@seomisaho @levishun @lesyeuxdeanna @readerofallthingss @potatos-on-clouds

@apriecotte @hhoneylix @kyeos4ng @smally97 @savluvsmingi

[haonsnow]

These redesigns are amazing! Plus-sized Peach is so cute, and I love the layers of her dress. The short skirt suits Daisy's tomboyish, sporty personality so well, and I adore the way you drew her hair. Rosalina truly looks like A Being of the Cosmos. Her sleeves. The pattern on her dress. Her eyes! They all look absolutely amazing. 👑Fantastic Job👑

Posting these here because I know tumblr liked these. Okay back to the shadows I go, bye

[raddixie]

In a world where certain powers are branded as curses, those who bear them are quietly erased from public life—sent to an isolated institution disguised as a prestigious “private school.” There, they’re taught to suppress their abilities. To be safe. Palatable. Normal.

But behind the sterile courtyards and ever-watching eyes, something festers. The halls echo with stories no one dares to repeat. And some students… simply disappear. No one talks about them. No one asks. Staff gets colder, and the rules get stricter.

You are one of the cursed���harboring a truth even the institution doesn’t understand. As the cracks begin to show, you’ll uncover secrets buried beneath concrete and silence. But the deeper you dig, the more you risk losing yourself—to the power inside you, and to the place that wants to bury you with the rest.

Because here, being cursed isn’t the worst thing you can be. Being noticed is.

“They say it’s harmless, and I let them believe it. But if they ever saw what it costs me to stay this quiet… they wouldn’t just scream. They’d disappear.” — MC

Genre: Dark Academia, horror, mystery, supernatural, thriller.(+18)

Demo Release : To Be Announced

Customize your main character’s gender, appearance, personality, and sexuality.

Your choices will shape the MC’s purpose, morality, and ultimate ending.

Rebel against the system—or conform to survive.

Romance, befriend, or antagonize one of six uniquely powerful individuals.

Hadrian – 20 (He/Him)

Power: Can temporarily raise the dead, though they only obey him while reanimated.

Personality: Calm, burdened, protective, emotionally distant.

Appearance: Ash-brown, slightly wavy hair kept medium-length. Deep forest-green eyes. Pale skin with dark under-eyes and pronounced eye bags. 6'3

Style: Minimalist and somber—black turtlenecks, layered coats, heavy boots. Wears a silver ring on a chain from someone important.

Mannerisms:– Stands still while others move, like he's observing. Rarely speaks. Avoids eye contact when emotional. His hands are always cold.

Quote:

"You shouldn’t follow me into the dark. Not everyone comes back from it… and I won’t be able to pull you out."

—

Fenric – 22 (He/Him)

Power: Sees others’ fates and can alter them—at the cost of self physical harm.

Personality: Brave, impulsive, stubborn, self-sacrificing.

Appearance: Jet-black, slightly messy short hair. Piercing icy-blue eyes that shimmer when his power activates. Deep tan skin with cool undertones. 5'11".

Style: Urban-street layers—hoodies, worn sneakers, bandages. He wears a thread bracelet, knotting it each time he changes a fate.

Mannerisms: Winces at visions. Bites his cheek when frustrated. Uses sarcasm to mask pain. Frequently checks the time.

Quote:

"I already saw how this ends. But hey—just for you, I’m willing to rewrite it… no matter the cost."

—

Elias – 19 (He/Him)

Power: Feeds on strong emotions—leaving others drained.

Personality: Charismatic, sarcastic, intense; a wild card.

Appearance: Thick, tousled chestnut-brown hair. Hypnotic amber-gold eyes. Warm caramel skin with sun-kissed undertones. 6'1".

Style: Ripped jeans, vintage tees, layered jewelry. Smells of smoke and sandalwood. Has tattoos that seem to subtly shift in certain light.

Mannerisms: Smirks constantly. Leans close when emotions are high. Always fiddling with a lighter or coin.

Quote:

"Careful, darling. Feel too much around me, and you’ll be left emptier than you knew you could be."

—

Lira – 21 (She/Her)

Power: Sees the future in her dreams.

Personality: Quiet, introspective, emotionally distant.

Appearance: Long, straight silvery-white hair, usually worn loose. Pale lavender eyes that glow faintly in sunlight. Porcelain skin with cool undertones. 5'5".

Style: Ethereal—flowing skirts, high-collared blouses, shawls. Often barefoot indoors. Wears a crystal pendant for protection.

Mannerisms: Blinks slowly while thinking. Hums to herself. Sometimes pauses mid-sentence when experiencing a vision.

Quote:

"I dreamed of you before we met. You were smiling… but the world around you was falling apart."

—

Nova – 24 (She/Her)

Power: Can twist or erase memories

Personality: Loyal, stubborn, protective, combative when provoked.

Appearance: Dark auburn hair tied back in a practical ponytail. Sharp hazel eyes flecked with gold. Deep brown skin with warm undertones. 5'9".

Style: Tactical streetwear—cropped jackets, combat boots, hidden pockets. Wears a utility belt at all times.

Mannerisms: Crosses her arms when thinking. Instinctively positions herself between others and danger. Rests her hand near her hip, ready to act.

Quote:

"I’ll protect what matters—even if that means taking something from your mind you weren’t ready to lose."

—

Selen – 20 (She/Her)

Power: Controls and manipulates emotions.

Personality: Calculating, cunning, deeply wounded by past rejection.

Appearance: Blonde hair, sleek and shoulder-length. Cold gray eyes. Smooth, cool beige skin. 5'7".

Style: Dark elegance— loves makeup, bold lipstick, sleek eyeshadows. Wears an intoxicating perfume. Can't go anywhere without her phone.

Mannerisms: Smiles when angry. Tilts her head while reading people. Uses touch strategically—to comfort or unnerve.

Quote:

"Don’t flatter yourself—I don’t need powers to make you feel something. I just know exactly which part of you to break."

Content Warning:

False Grace explores dark and mature themes, including emotional manipulation, trauma, mental health struggles, death, institutional abuse, gaslighting, and body autonomy.

May include references to:

Psychological distress

Violence and blood

Graphic depictions of death and corpses

Emotional and memory manipulation

Themes of disappearance, isolation, and loss of identity

Sexual content (optional)

Player discretion is advised.

—

If you’ve made it this far, thank you.

This is my first original interactive fiction—and honestly, my first original work ever. (I also don't know how to English cause....yeah..) I used to write fanfics (but we don’t talk about that…), so diving into something this big has been both terrifying and thrilling.

False Grace is still very much a work-in-progress. I’m learning as I go—coding, design, pacing, everything—but this project means the world to me. It’s my biggest undertaking so far… and probably my angstiest, too.

I’m nervous to share it, but also so excited to share it with the rest of you (hopefully soon)

@interact-if

[h1nanii]

Not that kind of guy.

This is a oneshot

Jealous!Zoro x F!Reader (Pre-established relationship)

Genre [fluff, Romance, slice of life with cannon-verse context. Jealousy, self-consciousness]

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader.

[Warnings: none]

A midday nap on the deck in which your moss haired boyfriend couldn’t help but eavesdrop on your “ Girl Talk” with Robin & Nami.

It started harmlessly enough.

You were helping Robin and Nami fold laundry on the deck while Zoro napped nearby. The sun was warm, the ocean calm, and the wind carried lazy conversation across the ship.

“I mean, I used to dream about a guy who could write poetry,” Nami said with a laugh, folding a towel. “Someone smart, mysterious, charming.”

Robin nodded thoughtfully. “A gentleman. Tall, elegant. Maybe someone who brings you flowers.”

“Exactly! The kind who dances at galas, gives surprise gifts, knows how to talk sweet…”

You smiled softly, hugging a fresh shirt to your chest. “That sounds lovely.”

Unbeknownst to the three of you, Zoro was not actually asleep.

He’d cracked one eye open just enough to catch the words charming, sweet-talking, and gives flowers—and then you saying “That sounds lovely.”

He didn’t stir.

But he definitely heard.

⸻

Later, he was quieter than usual. He trained harder, longer. You found him by the mast that evening, sword drawn but unmoving, his eyes fixed on the sky with a frown on his face.

You approached, the hem of your loose shirt swaying with the breeze.

“Zoro?”

He glanced at you and went back to wiping down Wado.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

You stepped closer, picking up the cloth he wasn’t really using. “You’re not.”

He paused. “Just tired.”

“…Is it because of what Nami and Robin were saying earlier?”

Zoro blinked. His grip tightened slightly.

“Thought you liked that kind of guy,” he muttered. “Charming. Pretty words. Surprise gifts. That’s… not me.”

Your heart softened painfully.

You stepped in front of him, taking the cloth from his hand and setting it aside.

“I said it sounded lovely, Zoro. Not me.”

His brows drew together. He wasn’t mad—just distant. Hurt. That quiet kind of hurt he didn’t know how to express.

You reached for his hand.

“I never wanted someone who dances at balls or writes poetry,” you said gently. “I wanted someone who protects the people he loves without hesitation. Someone strong, steady—even if he’s quiet. Someone I can trust.”

You leaned your head against his chest.

“I wanted you.”

Zoro stood frozen for a moment. Then you felt his arms wrap around you, slow and hesitant at first—but tightening.

“…I don’t say the right things,” he murmured into your hair. “I never know what you need to hear.”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered. “You show me every day. That’s enough.”

He held you closer, resting his chin on your head.

“…Would it kill you to want a guy who talks less and lifts heavy things?”

You giggled into his chest. “I think I already have him.”

He exhaled something like a laugh, then mumbled, “Good.”

After a moment of silence, you peeked up at him. “But… if you ever brought me a flower, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He gave you a suspicious look.

“…Don’t push your luck.”

And you didn’t, you never pushed expectations onto the swordsman since the start of your relationship. But he always seemed to surprise you from holding a soft spot deep down for you.

-

-

The island air was heavy with heat and the scent of wild fruit, the thick green jungle humming with cicadas and bird calls. The Sunny had docked off the shore of a bright tropical cove, the water so clear it shimmered like polished glass.

You’d had to shed your usual layers—the thick clothing of your shirts was too much in the heat. Instead, you wore a soft pink bikini set, the top trimmed with gentle frills, a gauzy wrap fluttering at your hips, barely covered by the denim shorts you bought a few weeks ago.

The others had gone exploring. You had too—until you realized something was missing.

Zoro.

You hadn’t seen him since disembarking. You asked Luffy (who was chasing a parrot), Sanji (who was too distracted by your outfit to be helpful), and even Brook (who offered to help you search “spiritually”).

No luck.

Eventually, you gave up, returning to the quiet stretch of beach near the ship, your bare feet curling into warm sand as you gazed at the waves.

The sun was starting to dip behind the cliffs when you felt it:

A strong, familiar arm wrapping around your waist, grounding you instantly.

You didn’t even jump.

His other hand came into view, calloused fingers holding something delicate and unexpected.

A single water lily.

Large, white, with a faint pink center—its petals soft and open like a sunrise.

You blinked in surprise, turning your head slightly.

“…You disappeared,” you whispered.

Zoro stood behind you, chin resting lightly against your shoulder.

“I was looking for this,” he said quietly.

Your eyes widened. “For me?”

“Tch.” He shifted slightly, but his arm didn’t move from your waist. “You said once you wouldn’t hate it if I brought you a flower.”

You blinked. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything you say,” he muttered, then cleared his throat like he regretted admitting it.

He held the water lily out to you—awkwardly, like it might explode—but his grip was steady.

“I don’t dance,” he said. “I don’t do sweet talk. But I saw this, and I thought of you. Soft. Pink. Floating, but not fragile. Strong enough to grow out of still water.”

Your throat tightened.

You took the flower gently, cradling it against your chest. “It’s beautiful.”

He stepped in front of you now, facing you fully. His eyes dropped down to your pink bikini for the first time—he stared just a beat too long before coughing and looking away.

“…You look good,” he muttered.

Your cheeks flushed with heat taking in his own appearance. “So do you.”

He was shirtless—swords still at his side, muscles cut by golden light, hair messy from the wind. He looked like something out of a story: a storm made man.

You stepped forward, placing the lily gently in his hand and guiding it to rest above your ear.

“Now I’m yours,” you said softly. “Everyone will know.”

Zoro watched you for a moment. Then he reached for your waist again, pulling you against him with no hesitation this time.

“They already know,” he murmured, just before pressing his lips to yours.

The waves washed over your ankles as the sun dipped lower, casting the two of you in gold.

And Zoro—quiet, rough-edged Zoro—stood there with his hand on your waist, a flower behind your ear, and a look in his eyes that said:

You were always the one.

[the-apple-of-my-eye0-0]

Do you wanna fuck?

Caleb x chubby! Reader

Content warnings: Praise, breeding kink, needy Caleb, reader is afab, unprotected sex, uses of: mama, baby, pretty girl, fluffy smut, a little angst.

This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, so I thought I'd finally post it. Reader is chubby and insecure. Idk this just came to me and I thought I’d write about it.

🔞 !!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!! 🔞

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Caleb and you have been dating for a while. Everything is going great, except you’ve been too insecure to show him your body, thinking he’d see you differently once the layers of deceit are discarded.

You’d always thought he was too good for you, wayyyy out of your league. No one verbally fed into this delusion but you could just tell by the way girls fawned over him in public, giving you eyes full of disgust.

He’d been persistent on wanting to have sex with you, but always stayed within your boundaries whenever you tell him no. As his girlfriend you’ve felt guilty for not giving him what the both of you wanted so bad.

So tonight you finally give in, too horny to overthink or back out.

After another steamy make out session, you told him the words he oh so wanted to hear “I’m ready baby, let’s have sex”.

His face was pure shock, taking a moment to register what you said. “Are you sure pip? I need to be sure you really want to.” He asked, hands resting on your waist.

“Yes I’m sure, please fuck me caleb” you pleaded. And with that a switch flipped inside him.

A smirk rose on his face, eyes going dark as he climbed over you, pining you onto the bed. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that” he kisses you, feverishly, not able to get enough.

Slowly, he starts to remove your clothes, starting with your shirt, admiring every inch of your skin. Then sliding off your shorts, until you were almost bare beneath him.

“God, can’t believe you’ve kept this precious sight from me for so long” his voice almost sounding like a whine?

‘What?’ You thought to yourself, blindsided at the fact he loved your body, just as much as you hated it, if not more.

“Let me see what else you’ve been hiding from me”, a smirk forms on his face as he kisses up your arm while removing your bra.

Once the garment is removed, he loses all sense of control, sucking on your nipple while the other is in between his unforgiving fingers.

“Caleb~” you moan, the new sensation sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“Keep saying my name like that baby, love hearing your moans” he says as he moves to your other nipple, continuing to give you pleasure.

You could feel his feel his hard cock through his pants on your thigh, slowly grinding in need of some friction.

“Wanted this for so long.” He kisses every inch of your skin, leaving trails of light bruises in his wake.

“Hearing your pretty moans through the walls, thinking I’m asleep — drove me crazy, looked forward to them every night” his confession sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp at the thought of him listening, cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry baby, I was just scared…” you explain.

“Don’t be,” kiss, “not here,” kiss, “not with me,” kiss, “gonna make you feel so good,” kiss, “gonna make you mine forever”. He kisses down to the hem of your panties, looking into your eyes for permission.

You bite your lip in anticipation and nod eagerly, “Please Caleb, I need you”, you beg.

He doesn’t waste any time, removing the cloth before burying his head between your thighs.

“Fuuuuuck~” you moan, the feeling of his tongue against your needy clit makes your eyes roll back, your hands gripping onto his hair, slightly tugging at the strands.

“Mhm—that’s it, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel” he purrs against your clit. The vibration going right through you.

“Ah, Caleb!— feels so good, need you inside me” you plead, looking at the lewd sight beneath you.

“Yeah? You ready for this cock, baby? Fuck can’t wait to be inside you” he raises his head, watching you through lust hazed eyes.

"Mhm, can't wait any longer." You whine, forgetting all your worries.

You watch as he removes his shirt, showing off his toned muscles. A familiar feeling rises in your stomach, a mix of butterflies and nerves.

He reaches for his side drawer, grabbing a condom, that was until your hand wrapped around his wrist, "wanna feel all of you" you tell him.

He stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before a smirk grows on his face. "You sure? Can't promise I'll be able to resist coming in this sweet pussy?" He warns.

You didn't care, how could you when you've been waiting for this exact moment since you met him.

"I don't care, just want you inside me, want to feel you cum inside me" you reassure him.

You don't have to tell again, he's imagined having a family with you for so long, having a mini you running around.

He unzips his pants, removing the remainder of his clothes, allowing his hard, throbbing cock to spring free. "Yeah, wan' me to make you a mama? Wanna carry my baby inside you?" He coos.

"Mhmm- Ah" you gasp as he pushes his cock inside you. "aw baby, feel so good wrapped around me" he takes a moment before thrusting inside you.

You melt into the pleasure of his curved tip hitting against your sweet spot over and over, you repeatedly moan his name as if it was a sacred prayer.

"You like that, hm?" he groans, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I'll give this to you whenever you want baby"

You take his head in your hands and pull him in for a deep kiss, no ferocity, no haste, just pure love.

You feel him throb inside you, until he starts to thrust deeper and harder, making you pull away from the kiss, gasping at the pleasure.

He continues fuck you at a mind breaking pace. Causing your body to jolt with each thrust.

You have just enough brainpower to realise what's happening and you grab the blanket to try and cover yourself.

Caleb didn't like that one bit, pinning your arm to the bed and tossing the blanket to the side.

“Don’t cover your stomach pretty girl, wanna see as I fuck a baby into it” he kisses your stomach, shattering all your insecurities instantly.

You let go, allowing the lust to finally overtake you. Your eyes rolling back, mouth open slightly.

"That's it baby, forget about everything else, just focus on the feeling of my cock filling you up." he moans breathlessly.

You feel your climax rising. "Gonna cum" you babble out mindlessly.

"Yeah? Cum for me baby, cum 'round my cock" he pleads.

With that you squirt around his cock, moaning loud enough for your neighbours to hear.

A guttural moan escapes his lips, feeling your walls clamp around him.

"'m gonna cum baby, gonna make you a mama, wanna see you hold my baby, can you give me that?" he whines.

You're too cock drunk to reply, just nodding your head pathetically.

He cums inside you, groaning at the pleasure, giving you a few more thrusts before collapsing beside you, panting heavily.

"Fuck, you're so hot baby, love you so much". he whispers breathlessly into your ear.

[teashirt505]

Lifeguard Steve fucks around way too much. For one, he's wearing unnaturally short shorts. Billy groans, shielding his eyes. Heather rolls hers. "You're not fooling anyone," she says, rubbing another layer of sunscreen on her fair skin. "Quit making heart-eyes at my cousin. It's weird."

He groans louder, shushing her. "I'm not doing that. He's not following Hank's dress code! There's no way those shorts are part of the uniform. They're his fucking track shorts!"

Heather, torn between snickering at her co-worker's plight and gagging, gets up to take Steve's spot. "And you know this how? More importantly... why? It's a wonder you even passed junior year with nothing but Harrington on your brain." She walks off before Billy can say anything.

"They're track shorts," he repeats, silently fuming in the scorching sun. Steve makes his way to a pool chair with an umbrella, and sprawls out on it like he's at home. His shorts roll up, tightening around his crotch. Jeez, how big is that thing? Nope, nope, I'm not thinking about this. I'm at work. Billy grabs a broom and starts sweeping some trash, gripping the handle so hard his hands start to hurt. Think happy thoughts. If Harrington gets up again, you can push him in the pool. He'll never know what hit him, and you wouldn't have to look at his stupid, long legs. "Stupid," Billy says out loud, and looks around to make sure no one heard him. "You're being stupid. If you do that, you'll get fired for sure."

His eyes automatically find Harrington, now on the other side of the pool, talking to some girls. He's not jealous. They won't be into a guy with shorts like that. No freaking way. Steve looks his way, blinks at the intensity of Billy's glare, then eases into this goofy, sly smirk that's gone in seconds. Must've imagined it. Wishful thinking. Still, he can't help but consider about twelve different ways to screw up Steve's chances. I could splash him. Ruin his annoying, over-gelled hair. Pull him into the pool. Steve goes back to flirting, his voice ringing in Billy's ears.

"My shift ends at 3. Maybe we can-"

One of the girls exchanges a look with her friends and giggles. Billy clamps a hand over his own mouth. It's the shorts, isn't it. Regretting them now, Harrington? He takes the opportunity to push past Steve, his fingertips grazing Steve's arm. He laughs, making sure the taller boy hears it. Steve gives him one of those dead-eyed, tired glares. Yeah, he's the one for me, Billy thinks to himself, puckering his lips at Steve. "That's rough, man."

"Don't you have a job to get done or something?" Steve sighs, his tongue darting out to lick his thin, chapped lips.

I bet he tastes like vanilla. Usually not my type. "I'm not the one flirting here."

Heather, popping up out of nowhere, looks from Billy to her cousin and shakes her head, lips twisting into a pained grimace. "Get a room, you two. This is getting hard to watch."

Billy drops the broom-fuck, forgot about that motherfucker- on his foot and curses loudly. He's never been more grateful that Steve's laughing at him. "So, Steve," he says suddenly, feeling bold. "You get off at three, right?"

"Why, you interested? Have to get in line, then."

Billy grins, his cheekbones smarting. "Does that mean-"

"Shut up before I change my mind. We're just going out for burgers, because I forgot to bring lunch, so don't get the wrong idea," Steve huffs in annoyance, shoving his hands into his pockets to pull out a stick of gum.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah, yeah. Quit smiling like that, you're freaking me out."

[mw00nie]

older boyfriend nanami headcanons

♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡

A/N: i have exams soon so i have lots of ideas to write so i'm posting as much as i can rn 😭😭 also these contain some nsfw

♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡

older boyfriend!nanami who always adjusts his pace to match yours. whether you're walking down a busy street or folding laundry side by side. He’s not rushing anywhere when he's with you. Being present with you is the point.

older boyfriend!nanami who folds your laundry exactly the way you like it. even your silly socks. even your oversized tshirts. he’s meticulous and thoughtful, and you didn’t even ask him to do it.

older boyfriend!nanami who keeps track of the smallest details: how you take your tea, what skincare products you’re running low on, that one book you said you wanted but never bought. He doesn’t announce it. You just find things quietly replaced or added to your shelf.

older boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t mind being teased for being a little bit of an old man. You’ll call him grandpa for drinking herbal tea before bed or sighing when he sits down, and he’ll just raise an eyebrow and say, “And yet you still insist on keeping me around.”

older boyfriend!nanami who keeps one of your hair ties around his wrist even though his hair is short. says it’s “just in case,” but you’ve never actually seen him use it. You catch him playing with it absentmindedly during meetings.

older boyfriend!nanami who calls you “darling” when he’s tired and his guard is down. It slips out like second nature; warm, low, reverent.

older boyfriend!nanami who always makes sure you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk. It’s instinctive, not performative. If you switch sides by accident, he’ll gently guide you back with a hand on your lower back, no need to comment on it.

older boyfriend!nanami who sends you articles and short stories during his lunch break that “reminded me of you” sometimes it’s thoughtful, sometimes it’s hilarious, but every time it’s his way of saying I’m thinking about you.

older boyfriend!nanami who reads to you in bed when you’re too tired to focus. voice low and steady, thumb rubbing slow circles into your thigh as your head rests against his shoulder.

older boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t raise his voice when he’s upset. His anger shows in restraint. longer silences, slower breaths, the way he closes his eyes for a second like he’s trying to steady the weight of what he feels instead of letting it lash out.

older boyfriend!nanami who apologizes when he’s wrong. sincerely, without ego, and who listens when you’re upset. even if he’s tired. even if the day was long. You matter more.

older boyfriend!nanami who listens when you talk about your day. actually listens. Not just nodding along, but making thoughtful comments, remembering coworkers’ names, and offering advice only if you ask. Sometimes he just says, “That sounds exhausting. I’m proud of you for handling it.”

older boyfriend!nanami who takes his time undressing you, piece by piece, like every layer is a gift. You get the sense that he doesn’t see it as just getting you naked. it’s about revealing the parts of you you trust him with.

older boyfriend!nanami  who is very aware of his size, not just in height but everywhere. He’s careful, unless you ask him not to be. And when you do? His restraint crumbles just a little. He’ll fuck you slow but deep, jaw tight, voice strained with want.

older boyfriend!nanami who is unexpectedly vocal in bed. low praise, soft groans, breathy murmurs of “just like that” and “you’re doing so well.” Always with a hand somewhere on your skin like he’s grounding himself through touch.

older boyfriend!nanami who isn’t into degrading or overly rough stuff, but dirty talk? Soft filth murmured into your ear while he’s deep inside you? Absolutely. “You’re taking me so well.” “You don’t even know what you do to me.” “I’d give you anything.”

older boyfriend!nanami who fucks you with his whole body, not just his hips. His arms around you. His lips on your skin. One large hand holding your jaw gently while he kisses you deep and slow like he’s reminding you (and himself) that you’re real, and his.

older boyfriend!nanami  who prefers intimacy over performance. He’s not interested in theatrics. he wants to feel you, slow and deep, with your hands tangled in his, your breath on his neck, your voice in his ear.

older boyfriend!nanami who’s very composed most of the time, but the second you take control, straddle him, or kiss down his chest, that composure cracks. his voice gets breathier. his grip on your hips tightens. you see the restraint unraveling in real time.

older boyfriend!nanami who gets possessive in subtle, understated ways. he doesn’t say “you’re mine” in bed, he shows it in the way he touches you like you're sacred, the way his voice deepens when someone else flirts with you, the way he fucks you slow and deep like he’s leaving something behind.

older boyfriend!nanami  who loves aftercare. loves wiping you down, pulling you into his arms, holding your hand against his chest. He’ll murmur, “You okay?” with his lips at your hairline, and doesn’t fall asleep until you do.

older boyfriend!nanami who takes his time during aftercare. he wipes you down with warm towels, gets you water, runs a bath if you're too sore. he massages your thighs, kisses your forehead, and holds you close with his arms tucked protectively around your waist.

♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡

[eeksburner]

Sweet Sunshine

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!Reader

(Note: I am yearning for summer. I miss California, my sweet home state.)

Tw: OOC Simon not wearing his mask when he normally would, not lore accurate

Not proofread

Simon bought a summer vacation home in California just for you, right near the coast

It's nothing crazy, a small cottage with a decent backyard that's only a few minutes away from anything a person could want

You guys rent it out whenever you aren't there, asking friends to check in on it to make sure it's not wrecked after people stay. It basically pays for itself, so you guys got lucky

When your plane lands, you can't wait to feel the sea water in the air and the sweet sunshine on your skin

Simon will opt for a tank top or T-shirt and shorts, no mask since he's so far away from anyone that would potentially identify him. The crowds of people at the beach and essentially everywhere else also give him a good sense of anonymity

He gets to be such a beautiful tan color by the end of your vacation, it's arguably the most attractive he is out of the whole year. The tan is good at highlighting all of his muscles and adding a few cute freckles here and there that you kiss away and are gone by fall

You wear sweet summer dresses that make Simon feel nothing but pure adoration, your hair done in cute waves or braids, cheeks kissed by the sun

Neither of you is complaining when you get to see the other in your bathing suits, ready to run into the cold Pacific water

Some afternoons are spent in the hammock in the backyard, lying lazily in the dappled sunlight, little bugs and birds flitting by, creating a beautiful ambiance

You insist on going to the best local grocery store that carries locally grown lemons, strawberries, and avocados. You make the best lemonades, desserts, and guacamole, just for Simon

On the days you get up early enough to see the sun rise, you bundle up in layers, the marine fog still lingering in some parts, and sit on the patio swing. Simon makes the two of you coffee, and you watch as the sky swims with shades of orange, pink, yellow, and blue, the stars fading away as the sun starts to shine

Some nights, you choose to stay out late, Simon loads up with firewood, and takes you to a secluded spot where you can have a private bonfire on the shore. You bring stuff to make s'mores and giggle when Simon drops his third marshmallow in the fire

Reading is a common pastime for you and Simon on vacation, setting out a large blanket on the grass in your backyard, watching as the blades sway and glisten with the wind and sun. Sometimes he reads to you, sometimes you to him. Most of the time, you read your own books, bodies touching in one way or another, until it gets too warm and you have to wipe your sweat off onto the blanket

Simon may not like roughhousing with his sweet little wife most of the time, but in the water, he's a whole different beast. You can try to run as fast as you can on the hot sand, but he'll catch up to you. You can kick and squeal as you watch him bring you closer and closer to the water, but nothing will stop him from jumping into the cold waves with you

Simon will take you shopping for a summer wardrobe weeks before you leave, giving you time to scope out any new designs or pieces you want to stock up on before you leave (Yes, he will wear matching swim shorts to your bathing suit)

Simon doesn't get his hair cut while on vacation, so his normally short hair will grow out just enough to make him have a boyish charm that he doesn't normally have, with streaks of naturally sun-bleached highlights

You guys shower together. Simon made sure he got a place that had a shower big enough for both of you. After a long day in the sun, it's nice to wash each other clean of the salt water and the sand, ending with a tired cuddle session in bed

Simon will get you any souvenir you want. Go to any event you want. Visit any beach you want. Go on any hike you want. His only request is that you're happy.

You, being the doting wife you are, make sure that Simon is wearing his sunscreen no matter what. He got burned one time when he insisted that walking around at the farmer's market wouldn't be enough to burn him. He was wrong. He flinches away when the cold sunscreen hits his warm back, but he doesn't complain. Sometimes you'll do it before he's expecting it, just to see the way his back bows away from the cold feeling and the little gasp he gives

It's a tradition to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium. You take a few days to hang out in the surrounding towns and spend a full day there. Simon's favorite exhibit is the one that shows all of the bioluminescent creatures. He thinks they're cool. His second favorite thing to see is you and how entranced you get at seeing all of the glorious life California's ocean has to offer.

You make sure to take a lot of pictures of your gorgeous husband, and he does the same for you. Your phone camera, a professional camera, and a Polaroid camera, barely enough to encapsulate the beauty and love you both feel while being swallowed whole by the sun, stars, and sea that lie within the confines of California, and only California.

[mikkomacko]

Maybe a mob!Jack birthday blurb???????

Blind folded, Jack is guided by Luke and Dawson from the parking lot down to the sand. You’d made him sit in the car like that the whole drive, the boys unwilling to let him have any idea where his birthday surprise would be.

Even when he complained of being car sick and had to stick his head out the window, the blind fold stayed on.

“Where’d you guys get this thing anyway?” Jack had grumbled, hair blown back messily, “it’s pretty fucking sturdy.”

You and Nico shared a knowing look, all too familiar with where the black silk blindfold came from, where it sits in a certain drawer in the closet. Neither of you said anything, but you both smirked and that was enough to have all the boys in the back seat letting out groans.

You’re still giggling about it now, Nico’s hand in your right one, sandals hanging from your other fingers as you follow behind the group. Timo and the older Devs had gotten to the shore early to set up for Jack’s birthday, pitching up canopies and the rented seating, hanging banners and placing weighted balloons. Alex even brought their beer pong table from the loft.

Jacks shoes catch on the sand and he lets out an excited yelp. “The beach! We’re at the beach!” He exclaims, reaching up for the blind fold. “Can I take this off now please?”

Luke grumbles. “Yeah you can take off their sex blindfold but make sure you give it back to Nico. I have a feeling he’s really attached to that thing.”

Your fiancé scoffs, eyebrows pinched in that grumpy face he always has when spoken to. Laughing softly, you nudge him with your hip as Jack rips the blind fold off. He pauses just long enough to turn around and hand it to you.

“Luke can say what he wants but I know this is yours,” he mumbles, giving you a playful wink before he’s taking off for the surprise party that’s obviously here for him. You shove the blindfold in your tote bag, adjusting your sunglasses.

Nico claims a big umbrella with two beach chairs under it, dropping the bag of towels and clothes onto the sand next to them. You do the same, abandoning your sandals and he kicks off his shoes.

Then he pauses, arms folded across his chest and eyes looking at you imploringly. Amused, you roll your eyes at him before reaching for the hem of your baby tee, pulling it over your head and dropping it on top of your bag. Then you unbutton your shorts, wiggling them down your thighs and kicking them off to the side.

Mimicking Nico, you rest your hands on your hips and wait impatiently for him to undress. A cocky smirk dimples his cheeks, tongue poking out from where it’s pinched between his teeth and he takes his hat off, leaving it on his chair as he ungraciously rips his shirt over his head, leaving him in just the baby blue swim trunks you love on him. The exact same shade as your bikini.

“Y/n!”

It’s Alex, dragging his feet up to you with a can of spray sunblock in hand and you wince when you immediately notice his shoulders and chest are turning pink.

“Will you get my back? Timo said no.”

Finding your best friend over Alex’s shoulder, posted up at the grill with a beer in hand, he wiggles his fingers at you. You glare at him, motioning for Alex to turn.

“Of course I will,” you murmur, spraying the coconut scented sunscreen on his skin. You rub the extra in for him, making sure to add another layer before sending him off to go play football with the others.

“Tell them all to put some on!” You instruct, and he gives you a thumbs up.

Nico crowds behind you, pressing a warm kiss to your shoulder. “Here,” he mumbles, taking the bottle from you. “I’ll get you, you get me.”

He takes his time with it, using the guise that he’s double checking to make sure you don’t burn but his hands linger on your thighs and ass longer than anywhere else.

“Hischier,” you warn after he’s rubbed at your butt for the fifth time. “I’m covered there.”

Unconvinced, he hums. “Lot of surface area here baby. Relax.”

You laugh, shooing him away and taking the sunscreen from him. You start with his arms and chest, spraying him down and then massaging your fingers into the soft muscle of his pecs, the dips of his abdomen.

“Not fair that you’ve probably left hand prints on my ass and I don’t even get to see yours.” You pout, pinching at his side. He laughs, smiling all sappy and loving when you spray your hands, carefully applying the sunscreen to his cheeks and nose, the two places he always burns even with his hat on.

“Saw my ass in the shower this morning,” he points out. You make him turn around, spraying over his neck and back now, leaving little kisses or pinches to all the sun marks dotting his skin.

“All done,” you tell him, straightening out his hat and accepting another kiss. You leave your things at your seats, jointing the others under the canopies to get some drinks and fruit to snack on. Not that you get far into eating before Jack and Luke are calling you out to their football field, pouting and requesting sunscreen from you too.

That becomes your unofficial job for the day. When you’re not laying out in the sun tanning or nursing a drink with Nico, you’re making sure none of the boys are burning or dehydrating. You join in on Nico’s team for a couple rounds of volleyball, you and Jack bury him in the sand and make a carved out mermaid tail on his legs, and you end up hanging from Nico’s back out in the water, chin resting on his shoulder and watching the boys splash around and goof off.

“Your cheeks are red,” you murmur into Nico ear, pecking your lips to his hot skin and he winces.

“Yeah I know. Always happens.” He shrugs, turning his neck to look at you. His gaze lingers around your nose, a little smile lifting his lips.

“You’re already getting freckles,” he comments, “they’re pretty.”

You lightly bite as his shoulder, cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you,” you say, letting your arms and legs fall from him. Your toes meet the cold sand under the water, head tilting up as the waves meet your chin and Nico laughs as you bobble around him until you’re in front.

“We should get his cake ready,” you say, the sun setting quickly and yet Nico doesn’t make a move to head back to the beach. Instead he grabs at your hips, hauling you back up into him and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Few more minutes,” he concedes, your wet fingers lifting his hat. You brush his hair back, flipping the brim around before placing it back on his head. With that out of the way now, you press your forehead to his, kissing at his hot lips.

Eventually you do get out of the water, Nico still carrying you until the water reaches your calves and then you take his hand, returning to the party. Timo gets out the candles and chocolate cake you’ve brought in a cooler for Jack, everyone gathering around to sing to him. Then you all sit sprawled out on blankets and chairs, watching the sky darken and enjoying dessert.

It’s not until the sky is lighting up with fireworks, your head resting on Nico’s shoulder that you look around, find Jack almost in awe as he watches the night sky burst into color with Luke by his side.

“Good birthday planning, dad.” You compliment Nico and he chuckles shyly, looking over at Jack too. Something fond fills his gaze, eyes lingering on the two brothers for a moment before he looks to you.

“Couldn’t have done it without your help,” he compliments, kissing your forehead. “Or without your blindfold.”

“It’s my favorite one too.” You pout, and he snickers.

“Don’t tell Jack that.”

[in-silver-lake]

everything's different now.

warnings: sa (not actually described, but there's flashbacks), angst, hurt/comfort, could be read as bsf!billie, no clearly happy ending bc i'm sorry but absolutely not. a/n: okay slight switch up - i actually wrote this for myself a long time ago when i just really needed a billie, it's also not really proofread. please please please do not read if you think it's gonna trigger you in any way.

3.5k

what do I do? what the fuck do I do now?

i’m outside the house, surrounded completely by white-walled mansions and rounded hedges and sickening ornate front gates feeling like an absolute fool. the late hour turned the night air cold, and i watched each puff of white air fade in front of me with every gasp I drew in, feeling strangely detached from myself. i looked behind me at the house - before, it seemed elegant, but now, its pointed roof seemed menacing, the concrete exterior entirely too cold and impersonal, and all i wanted to do was put as much distance between it and me.

i had been so excited for tonight, to celebrate my friend’s birthday, to see old friends from school i hadn’t seen in forever, to just relax and drink and get out of my head. i had rambled uncontrollably about it all day, worn my favourite little red dress - the one that’s almost too short in the back, that hugs my waist just right. i listened to tupac and dr. dre with my friends as i did my makeup, layering on highlighter like i was going to a concert, giggling with them like we were sixteen again with nothing to loose. we had practically run out of the house to the Uber with an enthusiasm that now felt so overwhelming foolish i wanted to throw up. 

i could still feel his breath on my lips, the bruising ache of my shoulder blades pressing into the tiled walls, the searing burn of his hands sliding low and his mouth on my neck.

i couldn’t go home yet, it’s still hours from when i was supposed to be back and the thought of facing my parents made me feel sick to my stomach and my face burn with shame and sickening stupidity. no, home was definitely not an option right now. i reached into my pocket to check the time: 1:36am. my phone screen looked blurry in front of me, reminding me of the shake in my hands and the tears in my eyes as i desperately tried to compose myself. step one, i thought, was to get the fuck away from this place. so i started walking down the street, my bare legs chaffing through the rip in my tights as i passed rows and rows of identical houses, letting them all blur in my peripheral until i saw redbrick instead of white and grey, neon CLOSED signs instead of flawlessly manicured front gardens. 

i had no idea how long i had been walking for, but the blare of car horns woke me out of my stupor. i looked around to see strips of lit-up take-away shops, groups of drunken strangers swarming as they sought out a late night meal, car lights so bright they turned by vision blurry, and i realised i had no clue where i was. with rips in my tights, tangles in my hair, surrounded by strangers on a street i didn’t know, in a body i no longer felt comfortable in, i had never felt more deeply, dizzyingly vulnerable.

i opened my phone, trying to find someone i could call who wasn’t my parents or still at that party. before i knew what i was doing, i clicked billie’s contact, craving something familiar and safe. i lifted my phone to my ear hearing it ring once, twice, belatedly remembering the time and that she could be asleep, but before i could hang up the line connected.

“hey baby girl, you ok?” she asked, her voice light with a slight laugh, but i couldn’t hear any loud noise in the background, so at least I wasn’t interrupting a night out. i struggled to keep my composure, my voice wavering as i replied, “I don’t know?”

“baby?” her voice got lower, tighter. there’s no trace of the amusement from her initial greeting. “are you good? what the hell’s going on?”

“i, um, i was at this party, and then i left, and now i don’t know where the fuck i am and i can’t go home and i don’t know what to do-”

“hey, hey, calm down, calm down, it’s okay. send me your location, i’m coming to get you.” in the background of her call i hear the low voice of finneas asking if it was me on the phone.

panicking now, realising i’d interrupted them, that she was probably comfortable at home, i quickly responded, “no, no, you don’t need to do that, i promise, i’m so sorry for interrupting you, i didn’t think about how late it was-”

“baby, stop. send me your location.” she said firmly, no hesitation. “finneas, get up, you’re coming with me-”

“no! wait, um-” i cut her off, rudely, not knowing how to say that the thought of being in such a small space with another man right now made my heart jump to my throat, “um, it’s all good, finneas you really don’t need to come.”

“baby girl, it’s all good, he doesn’t mind, he wants to make sure you’re okay just like i do-”

“no, please, just, finneas just please don’t come,” i plead. there’s a moment of silence before i hear billie’s soft, but somewhat confused, response of, “okay, alright, it’s all good, he’s not coming with me.”

“okay, okay, thank you,” i breathe before i brought my phone away from my ear to share my location with her. when i brought it back up to my ear, the static had intensified, and i knew she had connected to her car.

“I just sent it.”

“alright, i’m on my way, i won’t be long, okay? are you by yourself?”

“uh, yes.” 

i hear her draw in a breath, “okay, okay, i’m coming soon, okay? but love, what made you want to roam the streets at two in the morning by yourself? i don’t want nothin’ to happen to you, baby.”

my breath hitched as i tried to figure out what to say, the irony of that statement hitting me hard. i knew, logically, that i shouldn’t be embarrassed, but my shame still shut me up, and so instead i tried to play it off, but Ii couldn’t keep the waver from my voice as i responded, “ah, well, y’know, i didn’t really, um, plan on it…”

“love? what happened?” i could hear the concern in her voice, and it made me want to cry.

“i just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? please?”

all i heard was silence for a moment, and i worried that i had offended her, but instead she just said “okay, that’s okay. i’m fifteen minutes away, alright? hold on.”

and so i stood there, listening to the slight static through the phone and the occasional muffled thump of billie changing gears as she drove.

eventually i see her car pull over, and i briefly catch a glimpse of myself in her tinted windows - my frizzy hair, the faint runs of mascara down my cheeks - before i opened the door and was immediately engulfed in the familiar scent of her cologne. i turned to her, mustering up what i hoped was a normal-ish sounding hey, watching as her sharp blue eyes took in my dishevelled appearance, as they flickered down to my ripped tights and settled back on my face. my face went red as i pulled at my dress, desperately willing the material to cover them.

“baby,” she whispered brokenly, the combination of her soft tone and the knowledge that i was finally somewhere safe overwhelming me, grounding me, as if my body had finally been given a chance to recognise what had happened. i tried not to sob as i drew in shaky breath after shaky breath, and i brought my hand up to cover my mouth, as if i could somehow force the emotion back down. i caught her eye, and she was looking at me with an overwhelming sadness that didn’t make keeping my composure any easier. 

“what can i do?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper, eyes glassy.

“take me back to yours, please, i don’t want to go home,” i mumble, looking away, unable to meet her eyes and instead focusing on the mud on my boots - when did they get so dirty?

she simply replied with an okay, and i was so grateful she didn’t question me or fight me on it, i didn’t think i had it in me to talk or argue right then. she pulled out from the curb and started driving back the way i had walked. i focused on my hands in my lap, fiddling with the rings on my fingers and picking at the skin around my nails. she kept glancing over at me, her sharp blue eyes taking in every detail, subtly looking me over, checking for any cuts or scrapes or outward signs of injury. i didn’t tell her that i don’t think i’d be able to feel any of it, anyways.

she offered her hand to me, palm up, and without hesitation i grasped it, squeezing hard, and she squeezed back, not saying anything about the discomfort my tight grip had to be causing.

instead, she simply whispers, “i love you, baby,” and i only hear the slightest waver in her voice. we sat in silence all the way back to her house, and i concentrated all my energy on her hand in mine, a hand that was so reassuringly different from his, memorising the curve of her wrist, her short, clipped nails, examining her tattoo and tracing the thin black lines with my eyes.

“we’re here,” she said softly, slowly untangling her hand from mine before she got out. i looked up, dazed, trying to orientate myself, not even realising that she had walked over to my side before she was opening the car door. she crouched down, offering her hand as she spoke quietly, “come on, love, let’s go inside.” i immediately grasped it again, even though i knew i was in her home, that i was safe place, i needed something to ground me.

i barely noticed what was around me as i walked through the garage door and through her house, looking up to see we were in her kitchen, with finneas sitting at the island on his phone.

“hey, billie, you’ve got to see this, it’s so fucking stupid, someone edited this photo, they swapped me and claudia-” finneas turned around, laughter on his lips, before he abruptly stopped when he saw me. i watched him take me in, not dissimilar to the way billie did, and saw how he stiffened, saw the realisation dawn on his face.

hefore he could say anything, i started rambling nervously, “i’m so sorry for this, for imposing, and i was so rude to you on the phone, i feel stupid, and i know it’s so late…” billie squeezed my hand, cutting me off, but before she could say anything, finneas cut in, “nah, nah, please don’t worry about it, you’re not imposing…is everything okay?” his eyes flickered between me and billie, trying to gauge the situation.

“i just, i really needed help, so i called billie.” i reply quietly, and an uncomfortable silence settled around the three of us.

“finneas, do you reckon you could give us a second?” billie asked, shifting and stepping forward slightly, placing herself as a physical barrier between me and finneas.

“yeah, yes of course. holler if you need anything, okay?” and just like that, finneas left the room, no questions asked, and headed upstairs. billie walked me over to a stool at the bench, and as i sat i stared at the shiny white marble in front of me, following the lines and swirls, wondering how the fuck they make marble, anyways?

she pushed a glass of water in front of me, and i brought it up to my mouth with shaky hands.

“baby girl, i love you, okay? you don’t gotta tell me what happened if you don’t want to, i just wanna know, do you need to go to the hospital?”

i shook my head, “no, no, i’m…no, i don’t need to, it’s okay.” upon hearing my words, billie let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, before she continued, “okay, that’s so fine. do you need anything then? do you have any cuts or anything?”

although i hadn’t really felt much of anything since i left that house, at least until i got into her car, in the warm, safe glow of her kitchen, i realised my wrist was throbbing.

“um…do you have any ice?”

“yeah, yeah, of course, hang on.”

i watched as she reached into her freezer, pulling out an ice pack and grabbing a tea towel from the counter, laying it out flat on the bench. i watched as she folded it over the ice pack, carefully, almost reverently, before handing it to me. i pulled up the right sleeve of my dress, revealing a ring of red around my wrist that would turn purple the next morning, wincing as i pressed the ice pack to it to try dull the low, thumping pain radiating from it. billie drew in a sharp breath as she caught a glimpse, her head dropping between her shoulders as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“baby…”

“i just feel so stupid,” i started, staring at this one spot on the bench where the marble thickens, “so stupid.”

“baby girl, no, you’re not stupid, you’re so incredibly smart and brave. i don’t know what happened, but i don’t believe for a second that you’re stupid,” she insisted, locking her eyes with mine as she tried to get her point across, a furrow in her brow and frown on her lips. i drew in a heavy breath, focusing on smoothing over every word i said in an attempt to stop my voice from breaking, “i was at this party, and it was great - i was chatting to people i hadn’t seen in ages, everything felt so…light. i was sitting in the living room, and someone tripped and spilled their drink on me, so i went to the bathroom with one of my friends to try and dry my dress a little.”

billie swallowed, seemingly steeling herself, but she didn’t break eye contact, and reached over to grip my hand, so i kept talking.

“and he was talking to me as i was trying to dab at my dress, and i was only half listening, y’know? but then he starts telling me how pretty i am, how good my body looks in my dress, and i didn’t know what to say, i even laughed at him a little - i mean, i’ve known this guy for so long…”

my breath hitched, and i couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down my face, but i needed to keep talking, and billie was so steady, her gaze never faltering and as her hand maintained its pressure on mine.

“i didn’t see him when he came up behind me, but he put his hands on my waist, telling me he’s wanted this for so long, and i didn’t believe what was happening, i thought - i thought he was joking or something, but then i was against the wall, and i was trying to push him off, but he - his hands were on me, everywhere, and he wouldn’t stop, he - he was kissing me, pulling at my tights and he -i felt -” 

i started to get worked up, my breathing speeding up and all of a sudden it was all too much, and i could feel him on me again, feel the sting of his nails digging into my skin and the claustrophobic press of his body against mine, smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath and hear the drunken slurring of his words, c’mon, you know you want to…

i felt the frantic thump of my heart, i could feel it in my throat. as if from very far away, i heard billie’s voice, barely making out what she was saying, trying desperately to focus on the tangible sensation of her hand gripping mine, of that firm pressure. 

“baby, you’re not there anymore, you’re with me, you’re with billie, at my house. you’re sitting at my kitchen bench, finneas is upstairs, and you’re safe here, you’re so safe, alright?” faintly, i heard the muffled clunk of her freezer door opening, and then i felt something wet in my other hand. i focused on that burning cold, trying to hear what she was saying, on the tangible feeling of her hand grasping mine, and eventually i calmed down enough that my vision cleared, and i could hear again, though i didn’t let go of the ice cube, the burn of the cold on my hand providing a clarity that i wasn’t ready to give up.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper as her eyes followed mine.

“yeah, i - god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why i’m freaking out so bad, he didn’t - he didn’t actually - i got out before he went all the way,” i breathed, feeling the slight tremor that still lingered in my hands.

“nah, nah, you can’t be minimising this shit, what you just went through was traumatic, it doesn’t matter how far it did or didn’t go, alright? being in that situation is terrifying.” her voice was low and her eyes serious as she spoke to me, her dark hair falling forward as she leant over the bench. 

“i’ve known him for so long, y’know? i’ve - i’ve called him my friend for years, he’s been there for me and i’ve been there for him, i just - how could he do this?” i plea, searching her eyes as if she could give me an answer that made any sort of sense. she just sighed, overcome with a defeated expression, asking “baby, is it ok if i give you a hug?”

i thought about it for a second, took stock of my body and how fast my heart was beating and how fast I was breathing before i nodded. without hesitation, she walked around the bench, held her arms out and drew me into her chest, my face against the soft cotton of her shirt as her arms came around me. with one hand on my back and the other softly stroking my hair, i started bawling, the overwhelming feeling of safety ripping down all of my emotional barriers - and she just stood there and held me, absorbing it all, softly kissing the top of my head. 

“baby girl, you’re so strong and smart and talented. i know this might mean nothing to you now, but i believe in you. i’m so proud of the person you are, and i’m so proud of you for telling me everything tonight,” she whispered into my hair. I let her words linger in the air for a few minutes, let them wrap around me, willing myself to internalise what she was saying. Eventually, i spoke up, and, not knowing how to say thank you, i instead teased, “wow, when did you get so sappy?”

“shut up,” she giggled, but her arms tightened around me and she was serious again for a moment as she said softly, “i’m here for you always, baby, no matter what, you hear me?”

after a moment, i whispered back. “yeah, i hear you.” 

we stood in silence for a while, and i felt my racing thoughts slowly settle. eventually, billie spoke up. 

“do you wanna stay here the night? or do you wanna go back home?”

“Ddo you reckon - would you mind if i stayed here?”

“no, of course you can stay here. you wanna get changed?”

“i really, really want a shower, if that’s okay?” i asked, desperately needing to wash the night off my skin.

“c’mon, let’s go upstairs.” 

she kept my hand in hers as she lead me up dark wooden stairs and opened the second door on the right, showing me into her bathroom before she ducked out quickly to grab me some sweatpants and a big shirt, the spare pajamas that i always kept here.

“just call out if you need anything, okay? i’m only a shout away, i’ll just be in finneas’ room.”

i don’t know how long I was in the shower for, but at some point i realised the water was running cold, and that i should probably get out. i walked down the stairs into the living room to see billie settled into the couch, blanket over her lap as she scrolled on her phone. she looked up and put her phone to the side as I walked around and sat next to her, sinking into the couch. too tired to think or talk anymore, i reached for the remote and flicked onto some random sitcom re-run before i leant back into the couch, billie mirroring my actions unquestioningly. 

for the rest of the night, we watched episode after episode, sitting mostly in silence, occasionally poking fun at the characters as i let my mind relax into the comfort of billie’s presence. nothing was okay, yet, but for now i had this moment of peace.

[circle--of--confusion]

Summary:

1980s Mall AU Copia is a manager at the alternative store "Miasma" and their rivals across the way is a custesy jewelry store named "Becky's". One afternoon, he runs into an employee who works there, Erin, who ends up wanting to talk more about their store's rivalry since she's still new to everything. They share lunch breaks and over a short time, they realize they both want to spend more time with each other. Their crushes bloom into something more, all while they keep the relationship a secret from his friends at Miasma.

AN: This has been a very fun fic to work on! I hope you enjoy my small pocket universe with these characters.

Fic Mixtape

Paring: Copia x OC [Erin]

Total Words: 54k

Tags: Explicit; AU, 1980s mall, fluff, smut, secret relationship, copia has a band, too many facts about space, more tags on AO3

Read The rest on AO3 [Chapter 1 [6.4k words] is posted below]

Masterlist

It was the sound of the metal rack clattering and the stuffed animals falling to the ground after being knocked over that drew Erin out of her people-watching trance. The soda she was sipping on was her companion as she waits for a friend by the food court.

“Shit,” the voice says, still sitting on his ass. 

She rushes over to him to see if he’s alright. “Hey! Oh my god, are you ok?” He’s an older guy dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt. He also may or may not be the guy Erin’s been crushing on from afar.

What fun serendipity.

He hums and turns his head to look at her. The dark layered, feathery hair she has is back-lit and it makes her look like an angel. His eyes go wide and he smiles. “I’m better now that you’re here

Erin tilts her head. “Uh…”

He comes-to and shakes his head. “I, ah, yes, I’m fine. I was… thinking about something and didn’t see where I was going.” He’s at least aware enough not to say it washer. Much less the way her outfit shows off her figure and her thighs. He has to stop letting that invade his mind.

The two of them finally move to stand and he awkwardly places everything back where they should belong, hoping the bodega worker glaring at him isn’t cursing his existence too intesely.

“Sorry to run but I’m late for my shift!” He points with his thumbs to the left.

She nods, gesturing to the side. “Hopefully no stupid customers for you today!”

“If only it could be that easy.” The man rolls his eyes. “I’m Copia, by the way–” a voice breaks in through his sentence and he frowns. A woman walks up towards them.

“So sorry, Copia. I’m meeting up with a friend.” Erin turns towards her and waves. “Over here!”

“Right. Guess I’ll leave you to it.” Copia starts to walk off, cursing himself for being even later. He’s one of the few keyholders at this store  and the manager and his mother is the district manager. What are they going to do? Fire him?

Actually, his mom would do that.

He can’t believe he ran into something this time! Erin popped into his radar recently as the new manager transfer to Becky’s, the cutesy jewelry store across the way. Her smile, even across the walkway caught his attention as he walked to the front to stock shirts and adjust a display.

His co-workers who are also unfortunately friends remind Copia constantly that as workers of Miasma, an alt/punk clothing and oddities shop, are sworn enemies of Becky’s. He’s honestly not interested in this years-long beef between the two stores; it began when his brother Primo was the original manager.

And he doesn’t make enough to care.

“Hey, Dew. Thanks for holding down the fort,” Copia sighs, heading back to the office to clock in and check on any stock that’s been dropped off for the week.

Dew salutes half-heartedly as he leans against the counter. “No problem, boss.”

“Oh,” Copia stops in his stride and turns to him, “Go easy on Phantom. He’s still getting the hang of things.”

He whines. “We were hazed by Primo when most of us started working here! Why should he get off without anything?”

Copia crosses his arms. “Because Primo is practically a sadist.”

◊◊◊◊

Erin had learned early on about the store that’s rivals with hers. The passionate speech of Cirrus ranting again about how anyone who works for Miasma is evil made her giggle.

Does he automatically hold a grudge against me? Erin thinks. I hope not. He seems cute to her, even as an older guy. Copia’s eyes stay on her mind. One green and one a pale white.

“Though, my baby brother works there so I can’t hate him.”

“Is working in a mall really that boring you have to invent rivalries with other stores?”

Cirrus scoffs, “This is serious. It transcends all of time and space.”

Erin tsks a laugh. “This mall has existed for only about eight years.”

“Just… whatever you do, stay away from Dewdrop.”

Erin and Cirrus hang out for a couple hours until she needs to clock into her shift and that allows Erin to stop by a store for a birthday gift. The next morning, on her way to open, she crosses paths with Copia. She flags him down, half-jogging over across the walkway. He seems surprised the closer Erin gets. It’s endearing and she smiles at the soft shock in his face.

“It’s recently come to my attention that we’re mortal enemies.”

Copia laughs to himself. “So, you’ve finally been educated, huh?”

“Mhm. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to be talking to you.” She winks.

“I’ve heard and seen it all, trust me. It’s a whole saga. Multiple parts and everything.”

Erin perks up, using this as an opportunity. “If our lunch breaks ever coincide, you could tell me some time?”

Copia raises an eyebrow. This can’t be happening! He almost wants to pinch himself. A wide grin breaks out on his face but the sounds of Dew and Omega talking throw him off and he nods quickly. “Yes, of course! I normally go around noon and grab a slice of pizza.”

She turns to the sound, noticing his co-workers. “It’s a date. And my name is Erin, by the way. You might want to know that.” She quickly turns to walk back across the way, waving goodbye to him, laughing at the small comment that was overheard about one of his co-workers asking about Copia talking to her.

Date. The word echoes in his mind as he watches Erin, he did want to know that, unlock the gate in a slight daze.  Dew loudly asks why a Becky’s member was talking to him and Omega swats at his arm, scolding Dewdrop for being rude.

“Omega, help me confirm today’s deposit?” Copia asks as he lifts the gate.

“Sure.”

Dew looks offended, holding his hand to his chest. “Why not ask me?”

Copia sighs gravely. “You’re not allowed near large amounts of money, remember?”

He snaps his fingers and points at his manager, nodding. “Right.”

◊◊◊◊

It’s been a quiet morning, thankfully, for Erin. As she stocks charm bracelets by the front, she watches through the window to see if Copia walks near the entrance for any reason. The feud between their respective stores is ridiculous, truly, but if what Cirrus said was any accurate…

Erin shakes her head. She’ll wait to hear what Copia has to say. Which if her watch is correct, she should be able to find out in about half an hour. There’s a nervous excitement low in her belly. Erin keeps checking the time to make sure she can leave for lunch right at noon. She’s only had two half-conversations with him before he had to do something and Erin looks forward to his undivided attention.

There’s something about Copia that intrigues her. Erin wants to get to know him. Maybe kiss him at one point! Don’t sue her. There’s a feeling deep in her gut that Copia has very kissable lips.

She sets the extra stock on the counter and asks another worker to put it up for now. It’s now time for her lunch break. It’s time to hear the other side of the story.

She looks for the pizza shop, finding a decent line waiting to grab their own slices. Erin hears someone calling her name over the din of the food court and turns around to find Copia sitting at a table for two with slices and drinks already. He’s ushering her over and Erin smiles the closer she gets. Copia leans back in his seat, crossing his arms again.

“Are one of these slices for me?”

He sits up straight, quickly taking the tops off of the boxes. “Yes! I wanted to have options for you but all they had left was cheese.”

“Well!” Erin grins. “Cheese, please, then.”

“Oh, that’s good. I was hoping you weren’t going to say something like cheese louise instead.”

She snorts, “Oh, that’s awful. I love it.” Erin will admit, she can’t resist a good pun.

Copia looks down, chuckling to himself. “Thanks.”

The two smile softly at each other before tapping their slices together in a ‘cheers’ motion and eating them. Copia and Erin eat in silence, occasionally humming at the taste. They both understand: food first, talking later. The newest pop record plays as their background music.

Erin wipes her hands with her napkin as Copia sips from his soda. “So, this Epic Saga, you called it.”

“Mhm.” Copia nods.

“What’s your side of it.”

“Well,” he pauses, looking off with his mouth slightly open. Copia rolls his eyes and them closes them while shaking his head. “My pops wanted that space for the store and the Becky’s ownership came by with a better offer.”

She expects there to be more but after Copia takes another sip of soda, he leans back in his chair. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?”

Erin sputters, “From what Cirrus said, there’s been a lot more drama.”

He laughs, nodding. “Yeah, it was sorta exacerbated by our side first. Previous management was not, ah, pleased.” He grimaces. “Which didn’t help at all.”

“I hesitate to ask…”

“It wasn’t so bad at first, I will admit. My oldest brother was the manager and for the most part things ran smoothly.” Copia winces. “That is until one morning he’d yelled across the way that he’d sacrifice one of the employees to Satan if they stepped foot in our store again.”

Erin gapes, her mouth opens in shock. “What…” she hums. “He said again. What happened the first time?”

“From what I remember Secondo telling me, my other brother, the Becky’s girl messed up some display.”

“That’s it?”

Copia watches the journey she takes, letting the information sink in. She looks at him then off to the side to scoff in different ways before repeating the motions few more times.

“Then, to get back at us, Cirrus somehow snuck in and replaced all of our studs and piercing options with Yours. Alpha felt scandalized when he noticed the bright stars and rainbows. It was the shriek that was heard around the mall.”

She giggles, “Oh, poor thing.”

That small sound of her giggle makes him feel warm and fuzzy. He finds wants to hear it all the time now. “And then Dew set something on fire.”

“Shit.” Her face sobers.

“That earned a visit to the security office. Dew and Cirrus refused to apologize and it took a large, generous donation to the mall from both store owners to have this whole incident go away.” Copia waves his hand like a magician.

She tilts her head. “It was that easy? I assumed there’d be harsher consequences for setting a fire indoors.”

“The guy who owns this mall is good friends with my parents,” Copia says.

Erin narrows her eyes. “When why didn’t he let you have the spot you wanted in the first place?”

“He’s good friends, not best friends.”

◊◊◊◊

Over the following two days, their lunch breaks managed to line up again. It’s a comforting routine Copia and Erin quickly fell into. Both of them wanted to talk more and more but were limited within the hour window that was allowed. Mostly they discussed about their day, regaling each other with the odd customer that comes in.

“And so, I had to tell the guy, we don’t do piercings, we just sell stuff you can buy to take to a shop.” Copia’s waving his hands in the air. “But he was adamant. He claims a friend had came to this shop a few months ago, paid five bucks, and bam! New piercing.”

Erin dips a fry into ketchup and looks up at him, tilting her head. “What a fascinating mystery.”

Copia takes a bite of his burger and chews for a bit. “Yeah, well, I ended up solving the mystery very quickly.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat here, Copia.” She smiles.

He pauses, taking a second to look at her. He wonders if making himself look like a fool a few days ago was the best decision of his life. Because right now he has his crush - which he feels very weird to say as a man in his early fifties - waiting with bated breath to find out which of his stupid co-worker friends gave a back-alley piercing. Her brown eyes stare back, wide and eager.

“Where was I?” Copia huffs out a nervous laugh.

Erin shakes her head. His eyes glazed over when he stared at her. “The mystery body modifier.”

Copia nods. “Yes! It was Swiss in the end.”

“Oh! Well, he does have a lot of ah,” she hums, waving her hands in front of her face, “that.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. I’m not sure why I even needed to ask. I told him not to do it again but when he said he had a few more appointments from other customers I said not to do it on mall property.”

“Copia!” Erin scolds.

“What? It’s a semi-lucrative side job.” He shrugs. “How can I deny the man his extra money?”

She leans back, thinking it over. “As long as it isn’t on the property, yeah, I don’t think there’s a problem with that.”

“At last! She sees reason.” Copia smirks.

Erin scoffs, “Oh, fuck off!” She throws her napkin at him.

“But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the last seven minutes of my time with you.”

“Is it almost over already?” She frowns and turns around to look at the large clock in the food court. “Damn.”

They both part for their jobs, Erin leaving first this time so they’re not seen together. The next day, she had a later shift and couldn’t go to lunch when Copia did. They would send over a small wave if the timing was right.

As her nightly routine ends a couple days later, the front gate is dropped and locked. Erin looks over, finding Copia straightening up t-shirts by the front.

She softly knocks on the side of the entrance and it brings him out of his stupor. “Hey,” Erin softly says, waving at him.

“Oh, hey!” He stands up straighter. “Are you done for the night?”

She nods, humming a yes. “Do I have permission to cross the threshold or am I in danger of being sacrificed in the name of Satan?”

“Primo can barely walk at this point so I’d say you’re fine.” Copia waves her in. “He’s all you’d ever have to worry about.”

He asks if she’s ok being locked in. They can walk out through the back door, it’s what he normally does. Erin nods and swoons playfully, moving to grab his arm to blink up at him lovingly, earning a soft laugh from him when Copia says he’d walk her to her car just in case. As she wanders around the store, looking at the t-shirts and belts, jacket stud packs and chains, Copia watches with a soft fondness.

She eyes a rack of rings and earrings, looking through the options.

“So, which one are you? Punk or metal?” she asks, turning to him.

Copia tilts his head to the side a few times side to side as he thinks it over. “A mix of both but more metal.”

“You don’t dress particularly punk-ish.”

He laughs, coming closer. “I mean. Punk is more of an attitude than a specific look. Though, a badass leather jacket never hurts. Punk is a state of mind, Erin.” Copia smiles, setting a hand down next to Erin as she leans against the counter. He’s in her space and she smells like vanilla and sweet strawberries.

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“It’s become annoyingly trendy to some people who just want to be assholes.” He bends over against the counter, leaning down to rest his elbows in the surface, turning his head to Erin. “Come into this store and you can buy all of the parts to become another unique copy.”

“You sound so happy.” She bends down to lean the same way against the counter like Copia.

He shrugs his shoulder. “The store makes money so I guess I can’t complain too much.” Copia grins, a twinkle sparkling in his eye. “The views from here aren’t too bad either.”

Erin blushes, looking away and down to the table.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“I want to give you something.”

The two huff out a laugh and stand back up. Erin goes to grab something from her pocket. “You first.”

Copia nods. “Well, I, uh.” He scratches behind his neck awkwardly. “There’s a local drive-in doing a Star Wars marathon on Saturday.” Copia points his finger at her before pointing back to himself. He avoids her eyes as he asks, “If you’re free, would you want to go? With me?”

Erin tries to hide a massive smile that’s threatening to break free. “Oh, I don’t know.” His eyes lock into hers and she giggles. “Do you really want to spend that much time around me?”

“I’d like to spend way more time than that around you, actually.” Copia looks to her with pleading eyes.

“Me too.” She takes his hand and places a small piece of paper in it. “And if we’re not around in person at the same time, I want you to be able to call me so we can still talk.” Erin closes his hand over her number and looks back up to his face.

He could kiss her! Though, he thinks, maybe it’s too soon. Instead, he nods rapidly, almost to the point of giving himself a concussion. He needs to give Erin his number in return!

“One second!” He holds up a finger and rushes to the checkout counter, furiously rustling around for a working pen and a roll of receipt paper. Successfully he’s able to find what he needs and scribbles as clearly as he can where she can call him. “Here’s my number, too.”

“Thank you.” Erin looks at the scrawl, squinting. “Is that a nine or a four?”

Copia leans in. “Ah! It’s a four.”

“Got it,” she hums a laugh. “Are you almost done here? I would really like to get home.”

He breathes in quickly, looking around the store and nods. “Yes. I’m done with that I need to do.” Copia holds out his arm for her. “Shall we walk to our cars now?”

Erin loops hers around his, leaning in. “We shall.”

Copia shows her through the back to the door that leads out to the back parking lot. Their cars aren’t too far apart and he’s soon closing her door as Erin gets in, turning on the engine. She rolls down her window and leans forward to mention he needs her address. Erin leans over, grabbing a scrap of paper from her glove box and a pen. It’s not too far from him, they live in the same city thankfully. He taps the roof of her car and says goodbye but stands still for a moment, looking at her while she looks up at him.

She gently reminds him he needs to get home too and he shakes his head, finally turning to walk to his car. She yells goodnight to him and he waves his hand to her without looking back.

She doesn’t work the next day so she takes the time to run an errand for her roommate, Jessica, who works a full-time 9-5. They’re old friends and Jessica let Erin stay with her when her old job hit a dead end. The Becky’s job isn’t her life’s calling but it’s steady work and she’s grateful to Jessica for having a place to stay.

Copia never called her over the two days that had passed since Erin gave him her number. It was on a Wednesday and now, on this busier than normal Friday, her mind wanders to that sweet smile and why it’s not dialing her number. She counts through inventory in the back and sighs. He’s not working today; apparently the other keyholder, Mountain, is in the manager’s office. Her lunch break feels lifeless and she’s eating silently by herself.

She’s expecting Copia to pick her up around 4pm for the movie. The entire night should be around six and a half hours including breaks between the movies for viewers to use the bathroom or get more snacks. There’s a flutter in her stomach as she thinks about what they might talk about for such a long time. Erin feels very eager to have Copia all to herself for the evening. She’s not sure about the weather tonight so she plans to wear a sweater with jeans.

A knock on the door alerts her of Copia’s arrival. Her roommate yells out from her room “Make good choices!”

Erin snickers and opens the door. The absolutely scrumptious sight that greets her stops Erin in her tracks. Standing before her is Copia, sure, but he looks different. Its almost too much.

Copia chose to wear jeans so tight you’d think he had to be poured into the denim the way it hugs around his thighs. He’s got a simple band tee on and over it, the pièce de resistance, is a studded and decorated leather jacket. It looks like it’s been a labor of love to place patches and pins upon it over the years.

He looks comfortable like this, looks confident.

She bites her lip and drinks in the sight. Copia stands in front of her for what feels like an eternity while she ogles his body. He clears his throat, calling her name.

“Uh, Earth to Erin?” He smirks.

There’s a distant hum before she remembers where she is. “Oh! Hi!”

“Hello.” Copia puts his hands into his jacket pockets. He admires the sweater Erin chose. She looks cuddly and he wants to reach forward, to grab her into his arms and hug her softness. “Ready to head out? It should take half an hour to get to the drive-in.” He points back to the truck he arrived in.

Erin nods. “Yes! I’m ready.”

They pile into the truck and he begins their journey. It’s an older model and the suspensions show it. They drive over every bump and the entire thing creaks and jumps as it goes over. Copia winces a couple times, quickly looking to her to see how she’s doing.

“It’s my dad’s,” Copia explains. “He said I could borrow it on the grounds I don’t come back a father.”

Erin chokes on her breath. “Oh!”

As they pull into the entrance, he leans over to pay admission and drives around to a free spot. Cars have already arrived and a handful more trickle in as the show time grows closer. They both hop out of the truck, stretching. Copia asks for her to wait there and not watch him. He wanted to get something prepared first.

He mumbles to himself for a few minutes and the truck creaks every so often. After around five minutes he says Erin can come around to him. She stands next to Copia and he gestures to the bed with a “ta-da!” He’s created an arrangement of blankets and pillows so they can lie down to watch the movie in comfort.

She hugs him from the side, moving her head to look up at his soft smile. “It’s lovely, Copia. You’re wonderful for doing this.” She thinks she could kiss him.

He waves a hand saying its no big deal and soon she’s scrambling up to get comfortable. He points over to the concessions. “I’ll go get the first round of snacks?”

Erin nods and gives him her requests. When he comes back, his arms are overflowing with different food items and she crawls to the end to help relieve his burden. “I’m impressed you didn’t drop anything!”

“I would’ve been devastated if the drinks had fallen.” He hands her a blue cup with a lid and a straw. He gets up into the bed and settles. “The cups were themed tonight. Blue and red. I’m the evil empire, red obviously, and you’re the resistance, blue.”

Erin laughs, “Is this because of the store feud?”

“Maybe…” Copia looks off to the side as he sips.

She hums a laugh and nudges him with her elbow with a giggle, “You’re too cute.”

Copia blushes. The last few cars drive up to their spots and the two eat in silence observing the other attendees. He bought one large popcorn to share and their hands touch over the bucket causing Copia to let out a surprised noise. Erin looks over at him.

“Have you seen the movies?” Copia asks.

She nods. “I think I saw them so many times the movie theater workers knew me by my first name.”

“Wow!” He’s stunned. Copia looks forward and makes a funny face.

“One joked that all of the money I spent was probably a quarter of their paycheck that month,” Erin laughs. “I love anything space.” She leans towards him. “It’s the final frontier after all.”

Copia nods. “Ahh. Star Track.”

“Trek.”

“Right.”

There’s an announcement over the speakers that the movie is about to begin. Erin and Copia wiggle in their spots, excited to be taken into another world. He holds up his cup of soda to her and she raises it to knock against his. They both say “cheers!”

The production logos appear and a small cheer rings out from the cars. Soon the iconic opening credits play through the speakers and the crawling text, well, crawls. Copia notices a faint humming and he looks over to see Erin bopping her head as she hums the theme music. He’s grinning and his chest feels full. Copia’s so happy to have Erin here with him because otherwise he would’ve come alone. Sometimes he’ll watch her instead of the movie and occasionally she’d quote a certain part of the movie with 100% accuracy.

When she began to know the lines of different characters in a scene, that’s when he raised a silent eyebrow and turned back forward. Erin managed to catch all of the parts Copia wasn’t looking at her so she could look at him.

She hasn’t had an opportunity to look at his outfit again. Its almost like looking at the sun; she doesn’t want to look for too long. The tight jeans concern her slightly, however, and she hopes he isn’t too uncomfortable.

After the credits roll for the first movie, Copia turns to face her a bit more. “Which one is your favorite character?”

“Leia, obviously. I think I went as her for Halloween three years in a row.”

“Its hard not to love her,” Copia says. “My favorite was always Han.”

Erin giggles. “Of course you’d say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes and mouth open wide in mock shock and he puts a hand to his chest.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “The snarky quips. The signature jacket.” Erin gestures up and down his body. “And your friends across the way at work always seem to be screeching like Chewey.”

Copia laughs so hard his head falls back and Erin feels like she’s floating upon hearing him so happy. She’s doing that to him! It dawns on her that nearly a week ago they’d never spoken and now she’s on a date with him. It all feels like too much!

“Hey, I need to use the restroom. Hopefully it’s not too crowded; I want to be back in time for The Empire Strikes Back.” Erin moves to the end of the truck bed and jumps off. “Be back soon!” She gives him a thumbs up.

As she walks to the bathroom, her cheeks feel flushed. Erin’s hands rise to touch her cheeks, no doubt feeling warm and if she looked in the mirror, her face is probably red too. Erin’s been here barely two hours, how is she going to stay focused! His hand fell between the two of them as he set it down onto the blanket and her fingers twitched.

Copia lays back into the pillows as he waits for Erin to get back. There’s about five minutes until the next movie and he hasn’t seen her light purple sweater anywhere. He regrets his choice in jeans tonight.

The snug pants he chose are one of the more worn-in pairs he has but normally they’re for standing and playing at a show. He’s never had to sit for several hours in them. At least she seemed to like it. She looked like she liked it a lot.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Erin is yelling as she gets closer. “I wanted to get some more popcorn and stuff while I was up.” She hands Copia a new soda and the new bucket.

“You’re amazing, Erin. Thank you.”

She leans side to side as she crawls back to her spot. “I try.” Erin makes a satisfied groan when she gets comfortable again, leaning back into the pillows and Copia grabs another blanket.

“The sun’s coming down. Want to share a blanket?” He doesn’t want her being too cold. He needs her to feel good. She nods and he drapes the fabric over their legs. She quietly thanks him as the next movie begins.

Erin seems tense around him. He can’t focus on the first bit of the movie as he wonders what happened. As he moves his hand closest to her to sit under the blanket, she jumps slightly. When Copia looks down, there’s a small lump that appears to be moving.

Its moving to where his hand rests on his thigh!

He feels the sudden touch of Erin’s fingers sliding into his palm and they both softly gasp. Her hand freezes and almost starts to retreat but he closes his hand around what he can. Erin’s hand stops and when Copia opens up, she’s back to slowly moving forward again. Once she’s hovering her hand over his, their fingers instinctually lace together.

Erin sighs and Copia feels her body relax. They are slowly inching closer to each other as the two share the fluffy blanket and about halfway through the movie, she’s pulling it further up her body, shivering slightly.

Copia leans down by her ear. “Cold?”

She startles and turns to him, nodding. “A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” He removes his hand from hers and Erin frowns slightly. Copia stretches his arm around behind her and gestures for her to slide in under his jacket. “It’s warmer here.”

Erin slowly leans into his side, tentatively placing a hand on his chest as she practically cuddles him. She breathes in deep and a waft of his cologne floats into her senses. He smells spicy and woody and it’s not too strong; he knew just the right amount to put on so it would settle on him throughout the day as a comforting scent.

She hums, looking up to him. “You smell nice.”

Copia smiles softly. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am.” Erin rubs lightly at his shirt, whispering. “Your t-shirt is really soft. It’s perfect to rest on.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Copia whispers back.

Neither of them have returned their attention to the movie screen. His focus is trained to her lips and Erin watches as he stares down at her, eyes set low on her face. She quirks up one side of her lips and Copia’s tongue pokes out to wet his in anticipation of what he wants to say next.

“Erin…” he whispers so low she barely hears it.

“Yes?”

It feels as if he’s holding his breath. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Yes, you can kiss meoh!” Erin gasps, surprised at how quickly he leans down.

It’s slow at first; they’re both getting a grasp on what’s going on. She lets him take the lead as he moves his lips over hers delicately. His other hand comes up to hold her in place as he caresses her jaw. They pull away and smile briefly before falling back together for another kiss. Erin’s more involved this time as she slowly moves further up his body when he slides down further onto his back.

Copia holds her to him as they try to stay as quiet as they can, muting happy moans of delight. Erin pokes her tongue over and he raises an eyebrow, humming a surprised sound while they keep their eyes closed. They’ve very quickly descended into French kissing and Copia thinks he can’t get enough of her as they lick softly into each other. His arm around her slides down her back to keep Erin close on him.

When their kiss ends for them to part for air they’re both feeling like they’re on cloud nine.

“Mhm. Just as I suspected.” Copia gazes dreamily towards her.

Erin tilts her head. “What?”

“Your lips are just as soft as I imagined.”

She blushes and hides her face from him as she snorts out a quiet laugh. Erin presses a small kiss to his lips but it’s quick and Copia didn’t have time to deepen it again. “Yours aren’t too bad either.”

She was right. They’re very kissable.

Erin lowers to lie back on his chest within his jacket. She feels incredibly relaxed now and snuggles up to him, placing her arm around his waist. Between the blanket keeping her warm, the soothing scent of Copia’s cologne, and the soft way he’s begun to card his fingers through her hair, Erin easily closes her eyes and falls asleep. The last thing she remembers is Copia pressing a small kiss to the top of her head as Leia is confessing to Han Solo that she loves him to which he responds “I know” before being frozen in carbonite.

A gentle nudging from Copia rouses her from her nap. She’s groaning slightly as she tries to wake up.

“We gotta get up, baby. The movies are over.” Copia definitely noticed her small smile at baby.

Erin yawns, “I slept through Return of the Jedi?”

He takes her cheek into his palm and rubs his thumb softly over her skin there. “You looked too comfortable like this I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You just didn’t want me off of you, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything because she’s right. She looked so perfect curled up on his chest and at one point she moved to get more comfortable and wrapped her arms tighter around him. The soft nuzzle of her nose on his chest in her sleep made nearly made him whimper.

The two crawl out with their uneaten snacks and throw away anything they can’t take back. She gets to come home with a bag of M&Ms and is very happy about it. Copia balls up everything into one blanket and throws it into the back seat to be dealt with when he returns the truck.

He drives her back home and they sit in a tired silence. Erin looks over at him and he’s tapping his thumbs to the steering wheel. There’s a soft smile on his face and at a light, he turns to check on her. They both share a surprised face, both finding caught by the other.

Copia pulls into her driveway slowly and the truck creaks to a stop. Erin unbuckles and she’s hearing the sound of his door closing as she rounds the front, stopping to look back.

“I want to walk you to your door.” He gestures up to it.

She looks at him with a fondness she wasn’t expecting. “You’re such a gentleman. I’d like that.” Erin takes his hand and they walk the short trek up to her front step.

“I’ll call you later?” Copia doesn’t want to leave just yet. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand.

“I have work tomorrow but I’m free in the evening.” She rubs her thumb over the back of his hand.

He looks down between them and nods. They’re both slowly leaning towards each other; Erin looks at his lips and Copia is watching her as she bites her own in anticipation. He wraps his free arm around her waist and pulls her into him to press one last kiss of the night to her lips. He holds her firmly to him when his other hand removes itself from her grasp to snake around the other half of her waist. They’re sharing soft moans with each other as the kiss progresses from chaste to something more.

Erin’s hands rest on his chest and she could swear she feels his heart beat just a bit faster.

They pull back eventually and smile. Erin leans back in for one quick peck to his cheek and Copia is blushing again for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“That was for tonight,” Erin whispers. “Everything was lovely.”

“I’m happy you came with me.”

She nods and her hands slide down from his chest and Copia removes his arms from around her. Erin begins to unlock the door, stopping with her hand on the doorknob. She looks back one more time and yanks Copia forward by the collar of his shirt quickly for a kiss to his lips. “That one however was for me.”

Erin walks inside then, leaving Copia in a daze. He blinks a few times and grins. On the other side of the door, she’s leaning back against it as she’s lightly touching the apples of her cheeks with her fingertips as she smiles wide, feeling the warmth from them. She knows she’s blushing but doesn’t think it’ll go away any time soon.

Jessica walks out from her room with an empty glass to refill. She finds Erin in her own world still by the door and chuckles. “Did you have a good night?” Her small nod is all she needs to know.

When Copia gets the truck back at his parent’s house, his old man Nihil sits outside on the front porch.

“Pretty late to still be up, dad.” Copia drops off the keys into his hand. “It’s also cold.”

Nihil waves him off. “The cold keeps me awake.” He fiddles with the keys in his hand. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yes.”

“No hanky-panky?”

“Dad.”

Nihil grunts and points at Copia. “You made me a promise. I’m not driving a truck that has my son’s sex cooties on it.”

“And I kept that promise,” he scoffs. “And now I’m going home, weirdo.”

“G’night, son!” He waves. “I’ll tell your mother you said hi.”

Copia’s at his car when he waves goodnight back. Soon he’s driving along back to his apartment so he can hopefully fall asleep immediately. He has to count inventory by hand over the next few days and it’s exhausting. If he’s not focused, he could miss a number somewhere.

Until then, Copia has the reminder of his evening with Erin to keep his spirits up. He hopes if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to have a few more sweet kisses from her after tonight.

The rest is on AO3 for registered users. If you liked this, please click the link above to read the rest! Thank you!

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[torawro]

y’all . . . . . .

[dillwonder]

Moulin rouge AU because I saw someone else do it with steddie and I was like FUCK I WANTED TO DO THIS LIKE 6 MONTHS AGO SHIT

Bonus Jason as the duke

[bookwyrminspiration]

describe an asian character without mentioning anime challenge level impossible, apparently

[ladyelainehilfur]

ooh my boy looks freshhh ✨