#Like they were 'selling out' or 'giving in'

[amelia-yap]

an idea that came to me this afternoon lol

[originalpersonayouth]

I am used to the heroes stopping by at my store. It gives good publicity and honestly, I think more people come here in hopes of seeing their favourite hero than for my actual sandwiches.

Honestly, they aren't that good. I only took over the store from my grandma because she wanted to spend her last days as a customer, not as a server. The plan was to continue the shop until she died and then sell the house to one of the heroes looking for new headquarters - the best way to make money in this city next to dealing with weapons.

When Fury destroyed the whole area in a fight against Lambman (seriously, who came up with those names?), my hopes of getting money out of the sale sank. Sitting in the ruins of the store, reminiscing about all the memories I made as a child, spending the afternoons after school with my grandmother, a woman approached me. She told me that she was Damentalist, the mind trickster of the heroes party, she had just skimmed through my memories (Lady, privacy please?!) and decided that her party would not be responsible for destroying my heritage. She assured me that her party would rebuild the shop, make it better and bigger, and wouldn't take no for an answer. So they rebuilt it from the most resistable materials they could assemble. Bulletproof glass and everything. And they assured me that I would never have to worry about the store, that they would always protect it and if ends didn't meet at the end of the month, they were glad to help me with my bills. Hip hip hooray.

So I was stuck with the store, as the heroes promised to take care of everything that would try to take my grandma's store from me. There went the dream of a house in the countryside.

But I felt like I had to show the heroes my thankfulness, even though I wasn't happy about the outcome, I mean they were mostly kids squirming for affection and praise. So I took notes, which sandwiches they liked most and named the classics of the house after the respective hero. And people started coming, wanting to know what their idols ate.

Business was booming and I was able to put a lot of money aside, and most of all I came to terms with keeping up the store even after my grandmother passed.

Of course, there were many heroes whose sandwiches weren't on the menu, especially as heroes don't tend to live long and their parties changed all the time. And people were asking about their taste, sometimes a hero would burst in and demand for their name and sandwich to be added to the menu. And saying no to a superhero is neither easy nor wise, especially if that hero is a seventeenish traumatised child with super strength and puberty issues. So I made the sandwiches, named them, advertised them, and started to believe in an early retirement again.

Until today.

A few days ago, one of the especially ill tempered heroes entered my store. He was newly discovered, some prodigy or something, traumatised and hid his insecurities behind a wall of snobbyness. He demanded his own sandwich, his own creation. I asked him how that was supposed to look like, following his exact instructions (white bread. A lot of ketchup. A Steak. Cheese. No pickles, no tomatos, no salad) and handed it to him. He took a bite and spat it out.

Then he cursed about how this was the worst sandwich he ever ate, how this was an insult towards him and how he hated the filth of this town not recognising their saviour, the usual kind of bullshit. His mentor dragged him out of the store, glaring at me.

In the evening, over a bottle of wine, I skimmed through the news and saw that little Thunderstorm got into a fight with the heroe parties biggest enemy, Nightsnake, later that day. Snickering to myself, I added another item to the menu: "Nightsnakes Nightmare", a wild mixture of everything that was left in the store. Then I went to sleep and forgot about it.

Until now. Until the door swung open and there they were, a broad figure, dressed in a dark purple gown, woven together in a snake like pattern, their long hair in a tight bun, their teeth shining out between their lips. That was the moment I remembered my newest addition to the menu, the wild combination of ingredients that I hadn't even tried yet. That would probably taste horrible. Written in bold letters on the board behind me. The board Nightsnake was looking at right now.

"H-Hey, how are you today? Welcome to Sarah's Sandwiches, what can I get you" I heard myself say in my perfect customer voice. After a pause, in which Nightsnake showed even more teeth, my customer voice added "I can recommend to you the days special sandwich, Damentalists Doom, remembering the anniversary of our beloved he--" my voice gave out when Nightsnake lifted a hand, pointing to their name, grinning wildly. My thoughts raced, remembering all the times a hero was not satisfied with "their" sandwich, the rage, the scoffs, the threats. How would a villain react, especially to a creation like this. I tried to speak again, but Nightsnake just pointed and grinned and so I started preparing, my hands shaking, my eyes locked at the moving purple gown, following the exact recipe that I never tried before, pouring in all the sauces I had, throwing in a wild mix of vegetables, herbs and proteins I had never combined before, and prepared for my untimely death. Shaking, I wrapped the outcome and handed it to the villain. Then they open their mouth and spoke. Their voice was not what I expected. Soft, dark, friendly even.

"how much do I owe you?"

I was baffled. The heroes had never even considered paying. Usually they just took the sandwiches as an offering, declaring free food for everyone currently at the store, making a huge mess and leave.

"Uhhh... Four fifty that will be" I made up a price, as low as reasonable, not wanting to anger the villain.

"Keep the change" they said with a ... Cheerful?... Voice and handed me a tenner. Then, without breaking eye contact, they lifted the sandwich to their mouth, took a bite, chewed and gulped. I held my breath, embracing my fate, waiting for the muscular hands to lunge forward and ending my misery. But instead, they took another bite. And another. They ate the whole thing, then took a napkin out of the dispenser, wiped their mouth and looked at me again.

"Not bad, not bad. I like the complexity. The mint does very well with the soy chunks, but use less Alioli next time!" They cheered, winked, turned and left.

Once the door closed, I remembered that I indeed needed to breathe. Gasping for air, trembling on my whole body, I grasped for the counter, trying to process what just happened.

When I looked up again, there stood the woman from the bookshop down the street. Had she been here before? When Nightsnake was here?

I pulled myself together, and still shaking said in my customer voice:

"hey, how are you today? Welcome to Sarah's Sandwiches, what can I get you?"

"I will try the Nightsnakes Nightmare!" She smiled. "I don't mind the Alioli."

You own a sandwich shop in the heart of a superhero city. After gaining customers by making sandwiches based on heroes, you decided to try making some based on villains. Today, a villain stopped to review theirs.

[channiesbakery]

fan account —

prompt / request — minghao finds your old fan account, and finds out that it wasn’t for him

pairing — fan!reader + boyfriend!minghao

word count — 923

genre — fluff

when you and minghao first started dating, you’d mentioned that you had a fan account before meeting him. you’d asked him if he wanted to see it but he declined and it never really came up again.

until today.

you’re just on your couch, peacefully reading your book when your usually calm boyfriend barges into the apartment.

“babe, we need to talk,” minghao states and you sit up, thinking it was a serious conversation.

“is everything okay?” you ask, seeing the serious look on his face. “no! nothing is okay! how could you!” minghao exclaims and now you’re really worried, trying to figure out what you’d done.

“what exactly did i do…” you trail off, not able to think of anything you’d done wrong recently. unless he was mad that you didn’t put the laundry away immediately or make the bed as neatly this morning. you knew your boyfriend liked everything to be neat and tidy but surely he couldn’t be this mad about that.

“i was just peacefully scrolling on my instagram explore page today when a certain fan account popped up,” minghao starts to explain, pacing the room a little.

“they posted a nice photo spread of my photo cards with a pretty tea set so i decided to stalk their page–”

“you stalk your fan’s accounts?” you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off. “i like to see my fan’s creativity. that’s not the point! anyways, i realize that this entire account is pretty much 90% dedicated to hoshi,” minghao says.

“and what’s worse is that i continued scrolling through it to find a photo of you! my girlfriend!” he exclaims.

“wait, this is why you’re upset? because you found my old fan account? babe, i told you about this when we started dating and i even asked if you wanted to see it,” you remind him.

“I’m not upset about the account. I’m upset that it’s dedicated to kwon soonyoung!” your boyfriend clarifies and you can’t help but be amused.

“seriously? it’s not that big a deal, babe. i has that account before we started dating– hell, before we even met,” you shrug, picking your book back up.

“okay but why hoshi?” he practically whines. “he was my bias back then–”

“he was your what?!” minghao gasps. “you biased hoshi? kwon soonyoung? hoshi?” he just stares at you.

“jealous?” you tease. “you biased him? your bias is a furry!” minghao gapes at you. “why did you even have so many photo cards of his,” he asks.

“okay it wasn’t my fault i always ended up pulling his photo cards in albums,” you shrug. “you should’ve sold them. and bought mine instead,” minghao states, his expression dead serious.

“aren’t you the one who tells your fans not to buy photo cards?” you give him a look. “this is different! you’re my girlfriend and you’re collecting a furry’s photo cards,” he argues.

“in my defense, i wasn’t your girlfriend when i was collecting him. besides, it’s not like hoshi’s the only one i posted on that account! I posted spreads for pretty much everyone, including you! it was just mostly hoshi and jeonghan because they were my biases,” you point out.

“oh great, so you biased the guy who thinks he’s a tiger and the one who has a pet rock,” he says dryly.

“i might’ve biased them but you’re the one I’m in love with now,” you assure him, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“so… where is your photo card binder?” he questions after pulling away and you raise an eyebrow at him. “you are not burning my collection,” you warn.

“i wasn’t going to burn it. i was going to sell it. and then use that money to buy you photo cards of me,” he corrects.

“it’s okay babe, i don’t need a photo card of you when i have the real thing,” you tell him, kissing him again before you focus back on your book.

you think minghao lets it go after that but you’re proven wrong a few weeks later when they have their comeback.

he comes home with a gift bag for you, making you raise an eyebrow. “shouldn’t i be the one giving you a gift to celebrate your comeback, not the other way around?” you ask but happily accept the gift.

he watches as you pulled out every album version. you don’t realize that the plastic seal had been broken on all of them as you open it.

you open the first album, checking your photo card pulls as your boyfriend watched with a smirk on his face.

“oh my god, all three hao’s? i don’t think I’ve ever pulled only one member before,” you say, setting down the three different photo cards of your boyfriend.

it wasn’t until you opened the carat version that you realized your boyfriend had done something.

“seriously?” you give him a look when you flip the photo cards to reveal, once again, all of his. plus the carat binder was also his.

“i guess you’ve lost your hoshi luck, honey. you got lucky pulling all of mine,” hao says innocently.

he watches as you pick up your phone, expecting you to take a photo of your pulls but instead he sees you tapping on it, most likely texting someone.

“who are you texting?” he asks and you look up at him. “hoshi. to ask for his photo cards,” you say, dead serious.

“hey! i posed cutely for all of my photo cards just for you and you still want his?”

[boybandbaby]

Team Work (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 1444

warnings/tags: Buck with a child 🥹, as always please lmk if I missed anything

note: I tried to do some light research about Girl Scouts I’m sorry for any inaccuracies I never got to be a GS

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Your daughter Evie had just gotten back from her Girl Scout meeting, the one where she gets all her materials to start selling cookies.

Last year, she hadn’t sold too many cookies as it was only her first year. This year, the prize for selling the most cookies was a ticket to Universal Studios.

You had never taken her before despite living in LA. As you and Buck ate dinner, you watched on as she excitedly ignored her food to discuss her plans to sell as many cookies as she can.

“And- and if I win I can go to Universal Studios and see Gru and the minions!” She screeched.

“How about you eat dinner first and then we can talk about when to start selling?” You suggest.

“Okay but I want Buck to help me.” She huffs. You roll your eyes while Buck grins at you.

She wanted Buck’s help and boy did he show up and show out.

“How many boxes for you Chim?” Buck holds a clip board with an order sheet.

“Oh no, clipboard Buck is back.” Hen nudges Eddie.

Buck ignores the comment, writing down 3 boxes of thin mints and 3 caramel delites. 6 boxes on top of what he already forced Maddie to buy.

“And for the Diazes?” Buck turns to Eddie.

“Give me a box of thin mints and a box of s’mores.” Eddie states.

“Okay, so what I heard was 5 boxes of thin mints and 5 boxes of s’mores.” Buck writes down. He looks up to see Eddie looking at him confused. “Give some to your Tia and Abuela.” He shrugs.

“Hen! Hen..” He smiles, opening his arms for a hug. “How many for the Wilson’s? You’ve got a family of 4, I’m thinking 3 boxes each?”

“Are you nuts?” She looks at him then to Chim and Hen.

“No, I’m determined. I’ve gotta help Evie sell these, she’s asked me to be her business partner and I’m taking it very seriously.”

Hen sighs, “fine, give me 2 lemonades, 2 thin mints, 2 trefoils, and 1- don’t look at me like that. 1 tagalong.”

Buck shakes his head before writing her order down. “Thank you for doing business.” He smiles before heading up to the loft to harass some of the other firefighters.

“He should try asking all his exes and ex hookups, he’d sell out in no time.” Hen says to Chimney.

“I heard that!” Buck shouts back, voice drifting away.

The next shift, Ravi is his next victim. Buck gets him in the locker room but is surprised when Ravi buys 3 boxes of every kind.

“I admire Girl Scouts and what they are doing to shape the youth of America. I’ll gladly support Evie.” Ravi smiles and earns a high five from Buck.

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

“I thought I was your favorite?” Chim scoffs, offended.

“Yeah, after me.” Eddie grins.

“My favorite is whoever buys the most boxes.” Buck winks and exits the locker room.

The next day when he has a day off and Evie doesn’t have school, he spends the day with her in front of a grocery store. He’s her personal assistant, bagging the boxes and handing them to the customers as she practices how to count money and make change.

You park in front of the store with two bags of lunch for Buck and Evie, and to give Buck a bit of a break. You can’t help but laugh as Buck has purchased a matching brown vest and beret to look just like a scout himself.

“Hi babe,” you kiss Evie’s cheek and then Buck’s. “Working hard?”

“Always, we’ve already sold 92 boxes today. We’re almost running out. Did you bring the two boxes I left by the door?”

“Yes, they’re in my trunk. Sit, eat, take a break.” You urge. “I’ll get them.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll grab ‘em.” He smiles and puts his hand out for keys. You hand him your keys and watch as he practically skips to grab the last two boxes.

“Mommy, Buck is helping me sell so many cookies!” She squeals. “He’s so cool.”

You laugh and watch Buck balance the box on top of the other. “Oh, Bobby wants you to stop by his after you’re done here. Says Athena and Harry wants some more of the toffee ones.”

“I’ll save them a few boxes then.” He sets the boxes down behind the table.

“You look really cute in your getup.” You snicker.

“Yeah? You like?” He grins.

“Mommy, don’t be gross.” Evie remarks causing Buck to laugh.

“I’m not being gross, he looks so handsome.” You throw your hands up.

She gags as a few more customers come up to the table.

Later that night, you drive the two of them to Bobby and Athena’s. You’d already sent the team a picture of Buck in his vest and beret and Bobby said he wouldn’t buy any more cookies unless he came wearing them. You stand behind as Buck and Evie knock on the door. Bobby and Athena open up with their cameras out.

“Well, look at you!” Athena teases.

“Hey, I’ll do what I have to, to help my girl get the big prize.” Buck nudges Evie’s side causing her to stumble over.

Your heart swells when he says that. Buck has never made a big deal out of you having a daughter. He welcomed her with open arms when you’d told him on your third date that you had a daughter.

Buck brings her out of her shell and makes her life better. She’s told you so countless times. Even though he’s not her father, he’s stepped up to take on some of the role.

Watching Buck with your little girl makes you love him even more.

As the cookie season comes to a close and it’s announced that your daughter has won second place, Buck has to comfort her and apologize for not selling more.

You and Buck had already had a discussion that you didn’t want to get her hopes up in case this exact situation happened. You both wrestled with the idea that if she doesn’t win, you’d take her to Universal Studios anyways for her hard work but would let her know sometimes these things happen and you can’t get discouraged.

“Listen, we did the best we could. That’s all that counts okay?” Buck kneels down to hug her, rubbing her back. “We were the best team and I loved hanging out with you.”

She nods and steps back, wiping her cheeks. “I had fun with you.”

“Yeah? Do you wanna do something else fun with me and mom?”

“Like what?” She sniffles.

“Well, because you worked so hard and we’re so proud of you, we’ll still take you to Universal Studios.” You caress her cheek.

“Really?” She giggles, jumping up and down. She then starts crying again.

You kneel down to hug her and she cries into your shoulder. “Don’t cry, babe. We’re gonna have so much fun! Buck can be your ride buddy.”

“Yeah, I’ll ride all the rides as long as you hold my hand when I get scared.”

“You’re too old to get scared!” Evie laughs and pokes Buck’s cheek.

“I’m not old!” Buck gasps, tickling her tummy. “Say it!”

“No!” She tries to get away from him. “Mommy, help me!”

“No, Buck’s your best friend now you gotta deal with him.” You poke her belly and stand up. “Did you give him his gift for helping you?”

“Oh!” She runs to her bag. Buck stands up.

“You got me something?” She nods before holding her hand out. Buck takes the brown and gold pin from her.

“It’s the Brownie Entrepreneur family pin! Because you helped me!”

“But it’s yours.” Buck says softly, you can hear it in his voice that he’s getting emotional.

“I have so many, this one’s for you.” She shrugs, wrapping her arms around his legs. “You can put it on your vest.”

“Will you help me?”

“Yes!” She cheers before running to grab his vest from the back of the couch.

Buck slips the vest on and take the safety back off the pin, “here, put it on for me.”

He kneels down as she carefully puts the pin on his vest. “Now you look like me!”

“So if I look like you, that means you’re old too!” He jokes.

You shake your head and make your way to the kitchen to start on some lunch. You can hear Buck blowing raspberries into her cheek and her loud screams of joy as she calls him an “old man.”

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[0cta9on]

For The Cameras

Length: +6k words

Genre: Fluff

IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Thank you to the buyer for purchasing this commission! If you are interested in purchasing a commission from me or simply want to leave a little tip, read this post first and then head on over to my ko-fi page!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Somehow, despite this strange man you’ve never met before snaking his hands through your shirt, all you can think about is what you’re going to say to her. Will a simple “hello” suffice? Should you open with an old inside joke? A cliche “long time, no see”? Will she even remember you after all these years?

“Dude,” the strange man mutters, his deadpan eyes staring at you, but not quite looking at you.

“O-oh, sorry. Were you saying something?” you ask nervously.

“I need you to speak into the mic to check if it’s working properly,” he says, pointing at the collar of your shirt.

You peer down and notice a black fuzzy ball sticking out from your collar. If he hadn’t pointed it out to you beforehand, you would have definitely jumped and made yourself look like an even bigger fool than you probably already do. “R-right. Uh, hello? One, two, three, testing?”

He looks back at a man some distance away, fiddling with knobs on a small black box as he listens to your audio through his chunky headphones. A tense moment passes before he flashes a thumbs up in your direction.

“All right, you’re all good,” he utters before walking off without another word, leaving you completely stranded amidst this flurry of chaos. Screaming children running around, the distant rumble of roller coasters, a food stand selling trendy overpriced products every two steps—normal things you would see at an amusement park. What’s not normal is the couple dozen people around you handling all kinds of expensive-looking camera and audio equipment. If you had to bet, the fuzzy little ball clipped to your collar probably costs more than your rent.

You had no idea what you were getting into when you first signed up for that fan event. Winning a chance to film a variety show with a member of IVE seemed too good to be true, but after you found out that you would be filming it with her, entering the event was a no-brainer. By some stroke of luck, you’re now here in the middle of an amusement park, all but abandoned while jolly children’s songs and the incessant beeping of walkie-talkies makes it difficult to hear yourself think.

“Hey you!” A booming voice somehow cuts through all the noise, and you suddenly find yourself face to face with another man you’ve never met before. Unlike everyone else, however, he seems much more relaxed, even happy to be here. Despite his bulging muscles barely contained in his Hawaiian shirt, his steps are lightweight and peppy compared to the scrambling of footsteps of his subordinates, and the wrinkles outlining his wide smile are a testament to his years of experience in… whatever it is that he does.

You let out a sigh of relief as his demeanor puts you at ease in an instant. “Hello, sir,” you greet him.

He forcefully takes your hand into a firm handshake, almost jerking your arm out of its socket. “I’m Mr. Park, I’m the production director of today’s shoot!” he says, his voice loud and boisterous. “You must be our star for today!”

“I-I wouldn’t say that,” you mutter bashfully.

“Nonsense!” he guffaws. “I just wanna give you a quick little rundown of what we’re gonna be filming today. Basically, you’re just gonna go around the amusement park, hang out and talk with the idol, maybe even flirt a bit, y’know, play it up for the cameras.” Mr. Park punctuates his explanation with a hearty chuckle and a friendly elbow to your rib. What a guy.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can do that—”

Suddenly, he pulls you close, donning a deathly serious expression that sends a chill down your spine. “If you do anything to ruin today’s shoot, I have a six foot hole in the middle of the woods with your name on it, if you catch my drift.”

Before you even have time to process what he said, Mr. Park walks off like nothing happened, his pearly whites gleaming as if he didn’t just threaten to end you moments before. You figured there would be some oddballs in this industry, but you didn’t expect it to be this insane. If things are like this after barely an hour here, you can only imagine what her daily life is like.

“There she is!” You hear Mr. Park’s voice in the distance as a group of burly men all clad in black approaches the set. Judging by their appearance, you can tell that they’re bodyguards, which means the person their protecting is—

“Hello, Mr. Park! It’s nice to see you again!” The two bodyguards at the front part, giving way for Gaeul to walk through and shake hands with Mr. Park. Your breath catches in your throat at the mere sight of her and all the greetings you’ve rehearsed in your head all morning flutter away like butterflies.

You suddenly feel like a little kid again, waiting at her front door so the two of you can go look for frogs or build a castle out of anything you could find in the forest near your houses. Before she was Gaeul, one of the stars of IVE and adored by billions of people around the world, she was simply Gaeul, your best friend that was never afraid to get her hands dirty for the sake of adventure. She was the girl that made your world feel a little less lonely.

And yet, despite her being right in front of you for the first time in years, the distance between you has never felt so far.

As Gaeul and Mr. Park approaches you, you inhale a shaky breath, trying your best to calm your nerves.

“...and this gentleman over here,” Mr. Park explains as he gestures towards you, “is the lucky fan who you’ll be spending the day with!”

You catch her eyes, and for a moment, everything around you seems to vanish. You know deep in your gut that it’s her, but she looks so… beautiful. Instead of the oversized hand-me-downs from her brother, she’s wearing clothes that actually fit her properly—a flower top, a pink cardigan, and a frilly black skirt that shows off her legs in a way that baggy cargo shorts never could. Her hair and makeup is perfectly and meticulously done up, you would mistake her for a doll if you walked by her too fast. Every trace of the Gaeul you once knew is gone—except for her eyes and the way they still light up when they meet yours.

“H-hi,” you stutter, extending a trembling hand towards her. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”

She pauses, glancing down at your hand before looking back up at your eyes. A smile creeps up on her glossy lips, and then the scent of strawberry shampoo assaults your senses in the most pleasant way possible as she wraps her arms around your neck in a warm embrace.

“It’s nice to see you again, small fry,” she says softly.

In a past life, you would’ve been annoyed by that silly little nickname—it’s not your fault that your growth spurt hit you later than hers did—but hearing it after so long fills you with an immense amount of happiness that you can’t quite describe. She still remembers you.

“Ehem,” Mr. Park clears his throat, reminding you of the involuntary audience witnessing your reunion. With heat racing towards your cheeks, you reluctantly free Gaeul from your arms. “Do, uh, do you two know each other?”

“He was my best friend back in middle school before I became a trainee,” she explains, beaming. ”We were inseparable back then.”

Mr. Park approaches you, his expression growing dark just like it did before. “Kid…” he mumbles, his voice low. Suddenly, he grabs onto your shoulder with a vice-like grip and lifts you off the ground until your legs are dangling helplessly in the air.

“U-uh, Mr. Park? W-what are you—”

“You. Are. A. Godsend!” he exclaims, now back to his cheery self. “This’ll be great for ratings! I can see the headlines now: ‘IVE’s Gaeul reunites with childhood friend after he wins a fan event!’ If I wasn’t happily married to my wife of seven years, I would kiss you right now!” Finally, he drops you back on your feet and hurriedly struts away, yelling at the staff members. “Let’s get this show on the road, folks! Time is money and I don’t wanna lose a single penny!”

Gaeul pats your shoulder, not even trying to stifle a laugh at your bewildered expression. “Are you alright? Mr. Park has a few screws loose, but I promise you he’s nice.”

Her touch immediately puts you at ease as you let out a chuckle of your own. “Well, my dignity is at an all time low, but what’s new?”

If you had to embarrass yourself in front of a member of IVE, at least it’s the one that’s already seen you at your absolute worst. Like no time has passed at all, the two of you slip back into comfortable patterns of banter. There’s so much you want to tell her. Milestones she missed, horrific first dates, and a plethora of other Gaeul-less memories that you know she’ll tease you for.

“I still can’t believe it’s you, small fry,” she says. “You look great.”

“I’m not sure if you can call me that anymore,” you playfully shoot back. Getting your growth spurt before she went off to be an idol would’ve saved you a childhood of torment by her hand, but hey, better late than never.

“Oh whatever, I’ll call you whatever I damn want to.”

With a smirk, she walks off as Mr. Park calls on the two of you to get ready for filming. You always imagined your reunion to be a little more peaceful, maybe on a random chilly evening at a coffee shop, but the specifics don’t matter to you. What matters is that Gaeul is finally here, right in front of you.

You can finally do what you failed to do back in middle school.

______________________________________________________________

You’re wise enough to know that not everything you see on these kinds of shows is real, but you never realized just how scripted it all is. From the activities you do to the things you say, you feel more like a robot following commands than a regular person spending the day at an amusement park. Gaeul takes everything in stride, seemingly used to this kind of environment, but not having the freedom to properly speak to Gaeul leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

“Listen up, you two!” Mr. Park calls out from behind the camera. “You’re gonna look through the gift shop, try some things on, give a few compliments, big reactions y’know, really play it up for the camera and whatnot. Oh, and Gaeul?”

“Yes?” She tilts her head.

“Keep calling him that little nickname, uh ‘teeny fry’ or whatever it is.”

She cracks a little smirk in your direction. “Sure thing, Mr. Park.”

You sigh, masking your dismay with a neutral expression. “Why are we going to the gift shop first? Isn’t this what people do last?” you ask Gaeul.

She responds with a simple shrug. “I’ve learned not to question things and just go with the flow.”

“Huh?” You dramatically gasp in faux shock. “Are you sure you’re the Gaeul I know? Because I’m pretty sure I remember you annoying the substitute teacher with questions about frogs until they stormed out in the middle of class.”

“That’s different!” she exclaims. “Besides, that was so long ago, I’m basically a different person now.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You actually dress like a girl now.”

“Oh my god, don’t even remind me!” Her cheeks turn a cherry red as memories of her tragic middle school fashion choices come back to haunt her. “It’s a miracle that I even got casted in the first place looking like that.”

You let out a laugh. “You look good now though. Seriously.”

“Just good?” Gaeul says, offended. She steps back and gives you a little twirl, showcasing her entire outfit in all its glory. “Last time you saw me, I was wearing my brother’s old cargo shorts, and you’re telling me that I only look good?!”

“I-I didn’t— I mean…” There’s so many things you want to say, words and phrases rehearsed over years of imagining what your reunion would be like. Finally, you have the opportunity to say it out loud to her face. So just say it.

“Y-you look bea—”

“ALRIGHT, PLACES EVERYBODY!!!’ Mr. Park shouts. Before you can finish your thought, Gaeul hurries to her spot where the director told the two of you to start. You shake your head, coming to your senses and following her to your spot. Not great timing, but there will be other chances later.

Once the cameras start rolling, the two of you enter the gift shop, looking around at all the overpriced products the shop has to offer. T-shirts, headbands, hats, mini figurines of the amusement park’s mascot, just about anything a child could want and a parent would dread to buy. Like Mr. Park instructed, you do your best to give off big reactions, but frankly, this place is the least exciting part about going to an amusement park. Gaeul, on the other hand, plays it off like a true professional.

“Wow, look at this place!” she exclaims, her voice an octave higher than her regular speaking voice. “Oh my gosh, everything is so cute!”

“Y-yeah, wow! So cute!” you awkwardly parrot. Thankfully, the cameras are mainly following Gaeul, so your poor attempts at acting go unnoticed by the crew.

Gaeul takes one of the shirts off the hangers and puts it to your chest. “What do you think about this shirt, small fry? I’ll buy it for you if you want!” she says, punctuating her statement with a wink.

You chuckle in an attempt to hide the heat creeping up your face. “I’d rather launch myself into the sun than wear that ugly shirt,” you quip.

“CUT!” Mr. Park barks. “Hey kid, the park is allowing us to film here for a discounted fee, so maybe don’t talk bad about their merchandise.”

“A-ah… Right, sorry…”

Gaeul stifles a chuckle, putting the shirt back on the hanger. “It’s okay, they can just edit that part out,” she says in an attempt to console you. Unlike seconds before, her voice is back down to her usual tone.

“Uh, why are you doing that thing with your voice?” you ask.

“What thing?” She stares at you with a curious expression, one that holds not even a hint of joking.

“Uh… Nevermind.” Like she said, learn not to question things.

“Alright, let’s try this again, without the sass this time,” Mr. Park says, gesturing specifically to you. “Action!”

In an instant, Gaeul springs back into her idol persona, cheerfully skipping through each aisle and pointing out every little thing. “I wish I could buy everything in the store!”

“You probably could with your net worth,” you instinctively joke. Remembering what happened before, your eyes peer carefully towards Mr. Park, who thankfully smirks at your little jest. Relieved, you decide to do what he said before and try some “flirting”.

You grab a frog headband from one of the shelves and hand it to Gaeul. “Why don’t you try this on? I think it would look cute on you.” Something about talking to her this way leaves an odd, warm feeling in your stomach. Not bad, per se, but different.

She takes the headband from you and tries it on. “What do you think, small fry?” she asks, posing more for the cameras than for you. “Am I stealing your heart with this look? 

A rush of heat floods your head at her idol fan service. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her do this kind of thing, but there’s a huge difference in seeing it through a screen and seeing it in person, directed right at you. You thought you would cringe or laugh, but you’re not even sure how to react anymore with the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“U-uh, sure, yeah, whatever…” you mutter. You expected a witty comeback from her, poking fun at your barely coherent mumblings, but instead, you feel Gaeul’s arm link with yours as she pulls you towards one of the mirrors hanging on the walls. In all the confusion, she somehow managed to put a dog headband on your head.

“Ah, we look so cute!” she exclaims, her high-pitched voice ringing in your ears. 

You stare back at the reflection, forgetting all about the cameras as you take in every single detail. Gaeul linking her arms with yours, smiling at you with that silly little frog headband on. It’s almost as if you’re looking into a portal to an alternate universe where Gaeul never moved away. Where the two of you ended up as a… couple.

That warm feeling fills your stomach at the thought—but this time, it’s mixed with guilt. Gaeul never accomplished her dreams in that universe, and for what? Sure, you get more time with her and grow up alongside her, but she doesn’t become that big star that she always dreamed about being. There’s no point in clinging onto “what if’s”. Life played out like this and now you have to accept it.

“Hey.” Gaeul nudges your side, her voice back down to its usual octave. Her eyes gaze at you with worry. “You alright? Mr. Park yelled ‘cut’ a minute ago.”

You shake your head, ridding yourself of stray thoughts. ��Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Being in front of cameras has got me a little nervous, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re doing great. Nice job playing it up for the cameras,” she compliments before walking off to the next filming location.

Yeah… Just for the cameras…

______________________________________________________________

The ferris wheel stands high and mighty, casting long shadows on the park grounds. It is the quintessential amusement park ride that everyone loves, including you. Stuck in a small, cramped box high in the sky, with a perfect view of the setting sun, it’s all so… romantic.

Scratch that thought from your mind. You’re not here for any ulterior motives other than filming this show and catching up with an old friend. That’s it. Nothing else. 

“So, obviously we can’t fit an entire camera crew in one of those boxes, so we went ahead and fitted it with some cameras and mics to properly capture everything,” Mr. Park explains to you and Gaeul. “Just do what I said—act natural, big reactions—and everything should be smooth sailing from here.” Sounds contradictory, but you’re not about to talk back to a guy that threatened to bury you deep in the woods.

After he finishes explaining, the ride attendant helps you and Gaeul into the ride, and you begin your ascent into the sky. It feels like cruel irony, finally getting the chance to spend alone time with Gaeul, but not actually getting to spend alone time with her.

With a sigh, you muster up the biggest fake smile you can and start to act. “Wow, ferris wheels are so fun, I can’t wait to—”

“You can drop the act now,” Gaeul chuckles.

Your head tilts in curiosity. “What do you mean? Didn’t Mr. Park say that—”

“I convinced some of the crew to turn off the cameras this time around,” she explains. “We’ll have to ride again and play up the reactions, but for this time at least, we can just talk.”

You let out a sigh of relief and slump back into your seat. Finally. “Thank God for your influence, I don’t know if I could keep up the acting.” She smiles, mimicking your movements and lazing against the seat across from you. “Yeah, that’s probably one of the things I like least about this job.”

“Man, it must be tiring putting on a mask every single day for the cameras.”

She shrugs. “It could be worse. At least I get to do this with you, small fry.” Gaeul flashes a bright smile at you, and unlike the smile she dons while the cameras are rolling, you can feel the genuine warmth travel from across the booth. “So, have you been after all this time? I’m sure you have a bunch of stories from the years we’ve been apart.”

“So many,” you reply. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about high school? I never got to properly experience it for myself, y’know.”

“Right, wow, okay.” You sit up, barely able to contain your excitement at the chance to properly talk about things with her. “So, freshman year, I—”

“Is that the first one?”

“Yeah, it’s the first one,” you answer, chuckling at her curious expression. “So, freshman year, it’s a new school, whole bunch of new people, and obviously you weren’t around anymore, so I decided to join a school club.”

“Wow, really? You were basically attached to my hip all throughout middle school, I never thought you’d actually go out of your way to join a club,” she teases. “What club was it?”

“It was, uh…” You clear your throat, suddenly feeling very embarrassed under her gaze. “...the esports club.” You brace yourself for the incoming barrage of mockery and laughter, but instead, you’re met with Gaeul’s eyes brightening with awe.

“That makes so much sense, you always were good at video games!” she compliments. “How was it, were you any good?”

With your ego now inflated, you smirk and cross your arms. “Not to brag, but I did carry my team to 2nd place of the state championships,” you boast.

“Hey, that’s amazing!”

You can hear it in her voice, plain as day, that there’s not a hint of sarcasm or malice behind her words—she’s genuinely impressed by your silly little esports accolades. Being part of that club did little to boost your popularity and only served to make you the target of some bullying, but it was also some of your most cherished memories from high school. When you felt lost navigating that new environment without Gaeul, that club was the only thing keeping you together.

“Oh, I have to ask—what were school dances like?” Gaeul inquires, a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

You let out a heavy sigh as you think about all the bad experiences at each school dance. If the esports club was the highest high of your high school days, then school dances were your lowest lows.

“They were… not great. For me, at least. I was probably an outlier for that kind of thing,” you mutter, sinking back into your seat as the weight of those awful experiences pulls you down.

“Oh… sorry,” Gaeul says, your gaze drifting to the side. “Why, did you have a bad date or something?”

“I had no date, Gaeul. I was in the esports club,” you clarify. “Besides, I never bothered trying to ask out a girl during high school anyways.”

“Why not? You’re a nice guy, I’m sure any girl would’ve been lucky to go out with you!” she exclaims.

You chuckle. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but there wasn’t really anyone I wanted to ask to a school dance.”

“Really? Not a single person you had a crush on?” She leans into you with curiosity, not realizing the proximity of your faces. You can see every single detail of the visage that you grew up with, analyzing how much has changed and yet still stayed the same. Those big, round eyes that light up when you mention frogs or crack a clever joke. The puff of her cheeks every time  she tries—and fails—to hold in a laugh. The curve of her pretty lips whenever she calls you “small fry”. Remnants of your childhood together, still visible on the face you haven’t stopped thinking about ever since she left.

You lean back in your seat, the lack of space becoming too overwhelming. “I-I, um…”

“Aha! You did have a crush on someone!” she shouts excitedly. “Who was it? You better tell me their name, or else!”

“U-uh, h-her name? Um… Uh… A-autumn,” you sputter out nervously, too frazzled to think straight. Great job, you idiot. ‘Autumn”? Now she’s gonna know that you have a crush on—

“What a pretty name! Was she cute?”

“Huh?” Dumbfounded, you decide to take it and roll with it. “Uh, I mean, yeah, she was cute.”

“What was she like?”

“She was…” You pause, collecting your thoughts. The ferris wheel nears its peak as rays of sunset peek through the window, lighting up your carriage with an evening glow. “She was unimaginably amazing. She was strong and confident and determined and never let anyone’s words affect her. Whatever she wanted to accomplish, she could do it and make it look easy. She was also incredibly kind and hilarious and curious about the world around her, always asking questions with this admirable crave for more knowledge. And she was…”

At last, your carriage is lifted to the highest point of the ferris wheel. Like a spotlight, the setting sun projects the last of its light onto Gaeul’s face, illuminating her like the star that she was born to be. Mother nature paints her with the most beautiful shades of golden brown, casting an aura that only you get the luxury of seeing.

“...she’s beautiful.”

“Wow,” Gaeul breathes. The light from the sunset fades as it falls behind the horizon, yet Gaeul continues to glow with an aura that only you can see. “You must have really liked her, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I did…” you utter softly. “...but it was never gonna work out. She had big things planned, and I was always too nervous to ask her out anyways, so… it’s whatever.”

“That sucks.” She leans her head against the window and takes a deep breath. The excitement she held in her expression earlier disappears, revealing something more real, more vulnerable. “I’m actually kinda jealous of you, y’know.”

“Really? Why?”

She sighs. “I never got to experience any of that for myself—clubs, dances, crushes… all of it. Once I became a trainee, every single day was dedicated to training, with barely any time for fun or enjoyment or a social life. Some days, we’d barely even have time to eat or sleep.”

You always saw Gaeul as this bright ball of energy, even when she was on your screen as IVE’s Gaeul. To see her like this is something else entirely.

“When things were the hardest, I’d think about you,” she says, a melancholic grin growing on her lips. “I’d think about all the fun adventures we had and imagine all the new adventures we could’ve had. I wondered what you were doing, if you were even thinking about me…”

Every single day.

“I’d pray that when I wake up the next morning, I would be back in my old bedroom and you would be waiting outside my door like you always did, and then we’d run off to the forest and do whatever we wanted. No expectations, no late nights, just pure freedom.”

The urge to comfort her makes your heart ache. You want to hold her in your arms and tell her what you really feel. Tell her that the day she left was the day that your entire world came crashing down. Tell her to take your hand and run away with you, live the life that you’ve been dreaming of since you were kids. Tell her how much she means to you and that you never want to be away from her again.

But you don’t. You bite your tongue, suppressing all the feelings threatening to bubble up. She worked hard to get where she is, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into the dream she’s been talking about since the two of you were kids. You’re not going to ruin that for her just for your own selfish reasons.

“On the bright side, look where you are now!” you say in an attempt to cheer her up. “World famous Kpop star, loved by billions all over the world. A-and I turned out okay too, so, y’know… Everything is good.” Despite your attempt to sound cheerful, the weight of your true feelings seeps into your words. The carriage fills with a heavy tension that hangs in the air.

“Yeah,” she mutters, her gaze falling to the darkening scenery outside. “Everything is just… great.”

______________________________________________________________

“ALRIGHT PEOPLE, LAST SCENE OF THE DAY! AFTER THE TEST RUN, WE ONLY HAVE ONE CHANCE, SO LET’S MAKE IT COUNT!” Mr. Park yells, his voice the epicenter of all the commotion.

After a couple more hours of rides and other attractions, it was time to finish filming the final part of the episode, the fireworks show. For the most part, the last couple hours of filming went smoothly, aside from the fact that Gaeul wouldn’t talk to you when the cameras weren’t rolling. The shift from her idol persona back to her regular self was eerie enough already, but seeing all that faux joy disappear the second Mr. Park yelled “cut” filled you with an all-new kind of dread. Is this it? Are you just going to finish filming and leave things like this, without knowing if you’ll ever get the chance to see her again?

You spot her in the distance, getting her makeup touched up by her makeup artist. The sea of frantic staff members never seems to end, but you push through anyway, determined to patch things up before the night ends.

“Gaeul!” you call out to her. “Can we ta—”

Her brick wall of a bodyguard stops you in your tracks with a firm grip on your shoulder.

“Ms. Gaeul would like to be left alone.”

“I just need to—Ah!” His grip tightens on your shoulder until you feel like it’s about to be ripped from its socket.

“I said, she wants to be left alone.”

You huff in frustration. “Look man, my best friend in the whole entire world is upset with me right now and I need to fix this, so would you please cut me some slack and let me talk to her for five fucking minutes!?” Despite the pain in your shoulder becoming borderline unbearable, you muster up the most threatening look you can. Thankfully, his grip on you loosens and your arm somehow doesn’t pop off from your body. Did he actually get scared by the look you gave him?

“It’s okay, Mr. Kim,” Gaeul says, walking out from behind him. Go figure. “I got it.”

Her bodyguard backs off, giving the two of you some space to talk. “Thanks, I was worried Mr. Park would have to CGI me a new arm,” you joke, trying to ease the tension. Gaeul’s lips curl slightly into a grin as she shakes her head at your dumb joke. It’s not much, but it’s progress. “Can we talk—”

“Follow me.” She walks off without another word, away from the filming location. Not wanting to get on her bad side again, you follow her in silence.

Gaeul leads you through the bustling crowds, down a narrow, unlit pathway tucked between two food stalls. The sounds of the park grow fainter with each step until all you can hear is your own breathing and the echo of your footsteps. As long as you’re able to clear the air with her, it doesn’t matter where she takes you. You’d gladly walk all the way to the ends of the Earth if it means you won’t part on bad terms.

Finally, Gaeul stops at a small, secluded lookout point. A sturdy railing, its paint chipped from years of wear and tear, stretches across the edge of the platform, offering a view of the whole amusement park below.

“Back when we were trainees, the company let us visit this exact amusement park as a reward for doing well on a monthly evaluation,” Gaeul explains, leaning against the railing. “We ended up finding this quiet little area. It gives the best view of the fireworks show.”

You take your spot next to her and look out at the park below. Multicolored lights dance freely in the night sky to the unpredictable tune of the park goers’ joyous screams. You can’t help but grin at the thought of a younger Gaeul being able to relive a piece of her childhood that she missed out on.

“It must have been a lot of fun,” you say.

“I wouldn’t really know.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” 

A pensive escapes her lips into the open air. “I mean, it was fun, but… I just couldn’t stop looking for your face in every person we passed by.”

“Oh.”

“While the others were watching the fireworks, I was looking down at the crowd, hoping that I could see you again.”

“I-I, uh… I’m sorry, Gaeul—”

She lets out a hollow snicker, the sound barely carrying any amusement—just exhaustion. “What do you have to be sorry for? I should be the one apologizing. Back in the ferris wheel, when you said that ‘everything is good’, I just… I don’t know, I just broke down. Hearing you say that made me feel like you… forgot about me.”

“Hey,” you utter gently, placing your hand on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been; you’re my best friend, Gaeul. I would never forget about you. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought about you.”

She turns to you, a cute pout on her lips and her eyes glistening with tears. “Really?”

“Of course, dummy,” you chuckle. “And it’s kinda hard to forget you when I see you literally everywhere.”

Gaeul rests her head on your shoulder, her chest rising and falling with gentle laughter. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you all day, small fry.”

Tentatively, you wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I was able to talk to you before the day ended.” You feel her snuggle into your side, the warmth from her body a thousand times better than you could ever imagine it. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, screaming at you to say something.

You gulp in an attempt to quell your nerves. “A-actually, I’ve also, uh, been an idiot today. There’s something I need to tell you that I should’ve told you earlier.”

She shifts to look up at you, her eyes beaming like stars in the night sky. “What is it?”

“I-I, um… Gaeul, I—”

A ball of fire shoots upwards into the sky and bursts into a sparkling flurry of bright red. More follow soon after, whizzing past and painting the indigo sky with an array of colors. Gaeul excitedly climbs up the railing to get a better view, her expression filling up with a joy more genuine than any reaction she showed in front of the cameras. 

Your heart aches as you look up at her—you love her. You love her so much that you want to scream it from the top of your lungs until your voice grows hoarse. Today could be the last time you ever see her. You need to tell her. Forget about all the consequences and just say it.

Gaeul turns to look down at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “This angle seems a bit familiar, don’t you think?” she teases, ruffling your hair. The chilly night air enters your lungs. Every color of the rainbow reflects against her perfect skin. All caution is thrown to the wind.

You push yourself onto your tippy toes and press your lips against hers.

The kiss couldn’t have been more than a second, just a mere peck, but the feeling still lingers on your lips like electricity. A long moment passes with nothing but the crackling of fireworks filling the space between you. The overwhelming heat against your cheeks makes it nearly impossible to make out her reaction. Is she disgusted? Upset? Angry?

Yet, all of your worries melt away as Gaeul falls into your arms, capturing your lips in hers once again. Years of pining and waiting, watching her fancams until the ungodly hours of the night, showing support for her in any way you can without ever knowing if she’ll notice your efforts, all of it culminates into that sweet, tender kiss. Tomorrow brings a plethora of unknown challenges, but all that matters is right now, in each other’s arms where you’ve been dying to be.

You break the kiss for a moment, a truth you’ve been waiting to release resting on your tongue. “Gaeul, I love you—”

“I know,” she interrupts, her voice light and airy. “I love you too, small fry. So, so, so much.”

Your lips break into a smile so wide your cheeks start to ache. “Not that I’m complaining, but how did you know—”

“Autumn? Really?” she teases, her hands cupping your cheek. “You might as well have confessed to me in that ferris wheel.”

You sink your face into her touch, treasuring every second of warmth. “I wish I did. Maybe then we would’ve had more time to be like this before we have to say goodbye.”

“I’m never, ever leaving your side again, you hear me? The company will just have to deal with it.”

You let yourself get lost in her lips once again, with no intention of ever finding your way back. The road ahead will no doubt be filled with hardships and uncertainties, but there’s no one else you would rather start this adventure with than the girl that made your world a little less lonely. 

[lostinlovingrevery]

Vans Valentines- Cynical Romantic

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: This is a little short but I actually really enjoyed writing this one!

Plot: Logan doesn't like Valentines day, but he loves you

Warnings: Logan being a grump, fluff, suggestiveness, established relationship, smoking

Word Count: 1243

Valentines Day,

Another holiday that corporate greed has grabbed with its slimy hands, ripping it apart, twisting it and contorting it, picking it apart in every way possible to make sure they can get every cent worth out of the holiday. 

Holiday that was supposed to be based around love, about giving appreciation to the ones you loved. Buy them roses, chocolates, little stuffed animals, maybe a cheesy little card with some pun like “We are a perfect match Valentine!” and a cartoon of matches drawn on it. Maybe if they liked their gifts enough, if you say the right words, and spare enough flirty glances, you’ll get lucky later.

It’s stupid, considering you should be showing the one you love appreciation every day. Not only because a date on a calendar tells you to. 

He’s been around long enough to pick up the bullshit that the world sells to people.

“You brooding again?” 

Your voice makes Logan raise his head. His eyes soften at the sight of you. You were wearing that pretty red dress he got for you a while back. The one that complimented your figure well. 

“I don’t brood.”

“Uh-huh.” You smile, a teasing edge in your voice as you approach him, reaching his side and kissing his cheek. “You’re a total brooder Lo, always have been.”

He shook his head, looking down as he opened his blazer, his hand slipping inside and pulling out a cigar he had been smoking earlier and hadn’t finished. He was savoring it because it was his last one. He pats his pockets, searching for the matches he had, but you stop him, stepping in front of him with a flirty smile, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers, your hand sensually sliding down into the pocket, fingers curling around the small box and pulling it out. 

You flipped the small lid open, taking the match and scratching it along the edge, the wooden piece puffed into a flame, and you held it up to his cigar, he leaned forward, not breaking eye contact with you, as he puffed on the cigar, the butt of it turning red, small embers falling to the concrete ground. 

You shook the match, blowing it out and dropping it to the ground as well, his foot coming over to make sure it was fully snuffed out. He puffed on the cigar some more, small amounts of smoke escaping his lips before he brought his hand up to pick the cigar out of his mouth.  

“Oh, yeah-” He turned, standing up from the car, his chest bumping into yours, as he gave you a suspicious look, a raised eyebrow before he turned and reached his arm into the window of the driver's seat. He pulled out a large bouquet, a mix of roses, lavender, and eucalyptus- all your favorites. 

You gasped, a big smile stretching across your face as you took the bouquet, practically bouncing on the heels of your feet. He couldn’t help but smile warmly at your reaction. 

God, she’s so beautiful

“Lo! They’re beautiful!” You smiled, and you leaned forward, taking in a deep sniff of the fragrant flowers. Then you moved to give him a kiss, which he happily accepted. “I thought...” You turn your body slightly, a sly tone in your voice as you give him a side glance with half-lidded eyes. “We weren’t getting each other anything for Valentine's?” 

“I ain’t one for rules darling, you know that.” 

You smiled big again, your hand slipping into your purse, as you pulled out a black box, handing it to him. “Me neither.” You winked.

He gave you a knowing look, sticking the cigar back between his lips before taking the box, holding it in one hand, and pulling the lid off with the other. His eyes widened a bit, and a small scoff escaped him.

Cuban cigars. His favorite kind. The pricey kind he hasn’t gotten to taste in a long time. Cohiba 55 Aniversario. He looked down at you past his furrowed eyebrows.

“Always gotta show me up darling dont’cha?” He mumbles with the cigar between his lips, but the grin on his face gives away his attitude. You moved to face him, leaning in,

“It’s the thought that counts.” You hummed, tipping your chin towards him with a cheeky smile. 

He tipped his chin up, looking down at you with a quirked brow, throwing the small box into the driver's seat and pulling the cigar from his lips again. His arm roughly went around your hip and pulled you against him, making you giggle as your hands went to his chest. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a low sultry tone “It’s alright, I’ll make it even later tonight.” 

“I know you will.” You grin, your hand coming up to his cheek as you look into his hazel eyes. Most days, Logan looked tired and angry. However, whenever he looks at you- you see the same youthful fire you saw in him when you first met him- 15 years ago. 

The day you met him, he looked at you like you were the love of his life- only to figure out that indeed, you were the love of his life; and he was yours. Logan was a young- well…younger man then. He pursued you with a stubbornness and arrogance that drove you insane and eventually, you gave into his whims and discovered someone so much more than the rough exterior he gave off outside, deep inside. 

You were the only one Logan trusted with his heart. 

His free hand came up to yours cradling his cheek, careful of the cigar still resting between his fingers. He turned his head, softly kissing your palm, eyes not leaving yours, as his lips made contact with the ring on your ring finger. You smiled, your eyes crinkling in the corner- faint signs of crow's feet lingering, showing your age catching up to you. 

Thank god he didn’t lose you.

When the Westchester incident happened, he didn’t know what to do. By some luck, if you want to call it that - you weren’t anywhere near the school that day. You and him got Charles, and ran, protecting the old headmaster from the government and other threats, becoming his caretakers and working tirelessly to keep him fed, medicated, and comfortable. You and Logan have both grieved the loss of your friends- your family together. You worked together taking care of Charles, and have supported each other through everything. He didn’t know what he’d do without you, and you without him. 

You were partners. Nothing less.

“You ready doll?” He finally asks. You nodded, leaning up to give him a passionate smooch, squeezing his hand for reassurance and letting go.

‘I told Caliban not to wait up.” You say, as you walk around the other side of the car, Logan following you- and opening the passenger side door for you. “Charles told us not to get into any trouble.” You say with amusement. 

“He knows us well,” Logan mutters, shutting the door before walking back into the driver's seat. He turned the car on, his hand moving to the gear shift.

“Hey-” Your hand went to his, stopping him for a moment. “Happy Valentine's day.” You smiled. He grinned, leaning over to kiss you.

“Happy Valentine's, love.” 

Yeah, Valentine's Day was a crock. He’ll give you his love, every day.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 13

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

February 1984

Eddie slams his fist into the vending machine. The bastard ate his last dollar, and is refusing to return the other quarter he slid into the machine. This is just his luck.

"I might have another dollar," Gareth offers up.

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't bother.”

Gareth is already fishing through his wallet. Shit, he might have quarters to give up to his friend. Money has been tight on Eddie - Gareth was over last weekend, and the fridge was empty. Not to mention that he also caught a glimpse into Eddie's lunchbox, and there was hardly any food inside. A bag of pretzels, and an old napkin.

While fishing in his wallet, Gareth drops something. It lands with a plop on the school linoleum. Racing to snatch the condom, before Eddie can get his hands on it - he fails. Eddie flicks it between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Uh,” Gareth holds out one more quarter, “trade?”

How could this be any more awkward? With an audience maybe? Eddie didn’t even know you two were at that point in your relationship. Well, he still doesn’t. Should he ask?

Eddie doesn’t say a word, and Gareth takes the condom back. To prevent that from happening again, Gareth makes sure it’s secure in a deeper part of his wallet.

Clunk - clunk - clunk.

The vending machine does take Gareth’s quarters. With an aching buzz and a whirl, Eddie now has lunch. A crappy bag of chips that would fill him for another hour at best. Maybe he should have payed closer attention to his choices.

Suddenly, the hallway from the vending machines to the cafeteria feels more like a million steps instead of just a couple around the corner. The boys scuffle along the tile making an awful racket. Eddie pops the chip bag open upside down, and offers the snack out to Gareth.

“I’m good,” he doesn’t want to take away food from Eddie right now.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, and tries his best not to look terribly ravenous eating the chips in front of him. The cold truth is that he is surviving on junk until this Friday when Wayne gets paid. That, or he meets up with his boss. Eddie gets a sizable cut for the deals he makes selling weed to the kids that hate him the most. Rich kids. Church kids. All that matters is that these hypocrites have the cash, and Eddie hands out the supply. It’s simple. Very under the table.

The thing he can’t get off his mind is what Gareth is carrying around with him. A condom. It’s one condom.

Of course, Eddie knows what it is for. The better question is have you done it? Have you let Gareth do that to you? It’s against his better judgment that he asks the fatal question. He might as well load the bullet into the gun, then point it at his head, before letting Gareth pull the trigger.

“Are you guys- uh- have you guys-,”

Gareth stops abruptly in the hallway. This is not the conversation that he wishes to have right now. Not with Eddie in the least. Although, the halls are bare except for the few darting to the bathroom to smoke while the teachers aren’t looking. He’s done that enough times.

Truthfully, Gareth only stuck that thing in his wallet when the two of you began to date. Going to the store to buy them was enough of a challenge not to be seen by anyone from school or by anyone around town that his mom might know. The cashier gave him enough of a look over that made Gareth wonder if this was even a good idea in the first place.

It’s on his mind - you and him - like that. Sometimes Gareth wonders if he’s just a pervert because surely you can’t have the same mind that he does. Then again, you have needs too. Right?

Gareth is jittery already. It’s Valentine’s Day, and aside from buying you a bouquet of flowers, he’s also taking you to the school dance tonight. There’s a big announcement about it around a month ago.

You show little interest in the events around school, but every once in a while Gareth sees a twinge of excitement come from you. A flyer in the hallway caught your eye, and so he asked you. You were just as shocked as he was when the words flew out of his mouth. But, the smile grew on your face and he was smitten.

Gareth is thrilled to escort you to the dance. The nerves draw from getting dressed tonight. He’s got no idea what you’re wearing, but his tie will match your dress. For only this night, his mom is allowing him to borrow the car. She expects him to take you there and back in one piece. That is his plan too.

For the most part, his mom trusts him. The only child. The only one she’s got to keep an eye on. She’s proud of who he’s become as he’s growing up. Gareth regularly tries to stay out of trouble despite his outward appearance, and the ear shattering music that comes from the garage.

Gareth wants to continue his string of good luck with his mom by following her rules. The only problem is that now he has a condom in his wallet. A new player has entered the battlefield.

To tell Eddie the truth, Gareth has wanted to ask for his advice. How does he even approach the question? Is it a question? He doesn’t just want to start anything with you, and then you’re uncomfortable.

Eddie has experience. Gareth knows this. There’s been a time or two that Eddie has accepted a different form of payment to his after-school transactions. It’s not like he’s implied that any of his customers have to do that. But, as Eddie says, it’s the perks of being a good businessman. He takes it as a tip.

The only problem with asking Eddie for advice is how close you two are. If he found out that Gareth needed help in that department, then it would be easy to tell who he was talking about. And, if he isn’t talking about you, then who’s he talking about and how easy could Eddie hide Gareth’s body when he’s through with him.

Gareth scratches the back of his neck trying to find the words to reply to Eddie in a manner that’s not outwardly asking for sex advice. As he’s scanning his brain, Eddie is holding his breath for an answer. An honest answer.

“We’re not,” Gareth answers him finally, and thus letting Eddie breathe again. “I don’t know -,”

There’s a pregnant pause. Either boy doesn’t speak. The hallway stinks of cafeteria food bleeding down the rest of the school. It’ll smell like that all day. At least the biology classes haven’t started dissecting frogs yet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Eddie huffs. “Either you are or you aren’t.”

Why did Eddie want to know so badly? He wishes he could shove his foot into his own mouth. A part of him wants to hear Gareth say that they are doing that. No idea why. Gareth isn’t the worst person in the world for you to be doing that with. It’s just - maybe someday, Eddie had hoped that would be him.

Eddie really has to give up on the thought of you two ever becoming a thing. It’s not healthy. It’s selfish. You’re into Gareth. And, if he’s making you happy then Eddie should be too. Even though the sting still feels fresh against his alabaster skin.

“Gareth."

Gareth winces at how abrupt his friend calls him by name.

“Just,” Eddie pinches his brows together, “be kind to her. And do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please, spare me the details.”

-> <-

The sun has just set across Hawkins, but there is no moon to be seen. Clouds across the sky cast a blue-gray haze over the town. This doesn’t stop you from wearing your most favorite piece in your closet. Now you have an excuse to wear it, since your birthday didn’t work out. You zip up the back of the dress that Gareth bought for you.

Your hands dance along the side of the fabric that hugs at your waist. Lips press together to blend your lipstick in better, while you check all the details in your mascara.

The quiet air is suddenly broken by the shattering sound of glass in the kitchen. Even in a pair of heels, you’re quick to race out of your room.

Standing over twinkles of shards, your mother has drunkenly let a drinking glass slip from her grasp. Her hand trembles, but she doesn’t make much noise at the mess in front of her.

“Are you okay?” You stand in front of her on the other side of the mess.

Your mom has been home for a total of three days. That’s more time that you’ve ever seen her in the last few months. You’ve become quite used to coming home to a quiet house. The one day when she had shown up, you thought she was an intruder and you armed yourself with the baseball bat you have by your bedside.

Surprisingly, the moment she came home she was sober. No idea how she got home. That lasted all of an hour when she claimed she had a headache, then went out for booze. She came home again, and drank through nearly a bottle and a half of vodka. Enough to kill her. Maybe that was her plan. Leave you with the debt, and she’ll be buried six feet under.

None-the-less for some reason you still care. Three whole days of this, and you’ll still reach your arm out to catch her when she sways. She flinches away from you. Not a fan of touch anymore. At least, not your touch. She still has clients she reaches out too at ungodly hours of the night. She’s loud about the conversations, but if you ask her to lower her voice then she calls you unbearably nosey.

Why are you so glad to have her home? It’s so confusing all the time. The way you pick up after her. You’ve taken on her responsibilities. Shit, you’re looking for a job to begin to pay the bills that she can’t afford.

You’re sweeping the last of the glass, while your mother nurses a bottle of tequila in the dark corner of your kitchen. She hasn’t cut herself from the glass that she’s dropped.

“There’s macaroni in the fridge,” it’s like reasoning with a spirit in a human body. “Please eat.”

Your mother groans. All you do is pester her. Why did she have your ungrateful ass in the first place? A cat would have been less trouble than you.

There is a knock at the front door. You aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your mom is. There are plenty of dirty men that want something from her.

“Gareth?” You pull open the door, and there is your date for the evening. Clean. Suit and tie. He smells expensive. All this for you. You shut the door behind you fearing your mom might gain a wind of energy. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dance?”

Gareth is awestruck by you. For one, your radiance is unmatched and is indescribable in words. His jaw hits your porch.

“You look-,” he’s flattered you wore the dress, “God, you’re beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

It is your turn to blush. To forget who’s behind you inside. Little do you know her ear is to the front door listening to the hooligans on her porch. They’re whispering about her!

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you acknowledge, but the scuffling behind the closed door brings you back to reality. “Er- the dance?”

“Right,” he swings his arm out to show off his mom’s station wagon, “my mom lent me her car tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” you’re both impressed, and terrified that your mother is planning her great escape.

That she is. One more word comes through her head that her kid is conspiring against her. She’s being sold out!

Swinging open the front door, she knocks into open archway. At least she doesn’t have a bottle of liquor anymore. Unless, that means your mom has finished that one too.

“Mom,” you plead, “it’s fine - go back inside.”

She assesses. Gareth is in a suit, but he’s too young to be a government spy. So, she accepts that he’s here for one thing. An exchange.

“Who are you?” The words come out in a slur that almost sounds animatronic. This is the most she’s spoken since coming home. It’s hoarse. That could be the alcohol. “Are you handsomely paid?”

Gareth’s face has fallen.

“Mommy,” you beg, “go back inside. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her laugh is soaked in alcohol. “Please. You’re on your way to getting bred and dumped like me. Trust me - having a kid is the worst thing you could do.”

It’s clear to you now that she’s completely unaware who she is talking too, or has been talking too the whole time she’s been home. That’s why you’ve kept yourself locked in your room fearing she may forget you’re home, and mistake you for an intruder.

Still, the punch to the gut doesn’t hurt any less. Not only are you miserably unloved by the one person you know by blood, but your boyfriend stands mere steps away from you watching the whole exchange. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gareth turns to run.

This is the final act from your mother tonight. She swirls around on her heel, before retiring into the blackness of her bedroom. It’s safe when you hear her bedroom close.

“My purse,” you excuse yourself from Gareth a moment to tip-toe back into the trailer for your bag on the kitchen counter. Only five dollars is left in there. You should have known she would take it.

Gareth stays quiet - studying his shoes. You’ve never invited him over to your house before. Sure, he’s been around the neighborhood. Not when your mother is home. Things begin to make more sense about where she’s been on these “work trips” you’ve told him about.

“Let’s go,” you lock the door behind you.

The car ride is quiet, aside from the radio playing music that you’re unfamiliar with. His mom’s favorite stations, perhaps. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to cry or something. Confessing your mom is a drunk - or a pill popper - or a prostitute - yeah, that isn’t exactly on your agenda.

You don’t notice, but you’ve made it to the school. The building looks so different at night. It’s not as intimidating without all the expectations written on chalkboards, or the smell of the pages of used textbooks. Tonight the only area well-lit is the gymnasium. A girl’s laugh echos that brings you back to where you are. Earth.

Gareth’s eyes bore into you. All of these questions that he has, but he won’t ask. You won’t tell him until you’re ready anyway. The time comes sooner than later anyway.

“My mom is nice,” were you telling him that, or yourself? “She bakes. Well, she used too.”

Pause.

“My grandma was nice,” you pick your head up at this. “She baked too. She used too.”

Tears threaten to fall down your face, but Gareth catches each one before they ruin your makeup completely. You let Gareth just hold you right then. In the middle of the parking lot like no one else is around because no one matters more to him than you right then.

“She’s been home for three days,” you sniffle, “it doesn’t even feel like she’s really home.”

“Like she’s a ghost,” he traces shapes against your skin.

“Ugh, my makeup,” a silly little thing to worry about right now. But alas, you sit up to fix the mascara threatening to run down your face. “I’m sorry, Gareth.”

“Hey,” he takes your hand in his to draw your attention back to him. Easily, he slots his lips against yours. Once, twice, three times. Wet kisses. “You have nothing to apologize for. If you want to get out of here and just drive - say the word.”

The idea wasn’t bad. Getting out. Feeling the wind in your hair. Going somewhere far away. It wouldn’t work. You would have to come home in the end.

“No,” you breathe across his mouth. “Let’s dance.”

That is what you do. The whole evening. After clearing your eyes, and turning your brain off, you have a really fantastic time with Gareth. You even convince him to take photos with you in the Photo Booth.

A few dances in, and both you and Gareth find a rhythm to dance too. The rhythm might not have been the same one that everyone else was dancing too, but nonetheless you’re having a great time.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” your bladder is getting to the best of you. “Can you get me a glass of punch?”

“Sure,” Gareth could also use a break from the dance floor. He’s moving with two left feet!

The bathroom clears out as you come in. By the time you’ve finished in the stall, the only person left in the room with you is Chrissy Cunningham. The sweetheart you’ve grown to be fond of outside of her massive jerk of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she’s powdering her face over the sink. A floral scent wafts around her. She must have just applied a generous amount of perfume. “But, you and Gareth look like you’re having fun.”

Oh, Gareth! Even just saying his name brings your heart to a flutter!

“Uhm,” you can’t help, but break into a grin the size of Texas, “yes! Chrissy, he’s the nicest guy. Not to mention how ridiculously handsome he is.”

“You know what, he does clean up nice,” she plucks at her bangs dangling in front of her face. “Those so-called Freaks are surprising in more ways than one.”

“What?”

“Well, Jason’s waiting for me,” she tells you, “we should totally go on a double date. That way we can catch up!”

Ah, Chrissy. She can never be anywhere alone for too long without Jason. But, maybe the offer isn’t far out there. It could be the start of a truce between the boys.

“I’ll talk to Gareth,” you can promise her that. “Have fun! You look so pretty by the way.”

“You too!”

When you’re done powdering your nose, you find Gareth nursing a cup of punch at an empty table. No one wants to be near the Freaks. Boy, you haven’t realized how tired you are of hearing how badly the boys get picked on around here. They play a fantasy game, and listen to different music so that makes them completely undesirable? That gives this miserable school a reason to outcast them all?

“Hey,” Gareth holds up an extra glass of punch for you, “having fun, tonight?”

“I really am,” you sip the drink.

Gareth taps the table with his pointer finger. There’s something on his mind that he isn’t telling you. You’ve been together for nearly half a year, and his tells are already becoming more obvious to you. He knows this as well as you do.

“I’m really sorry if what I’m about to say is overstepping,” that’s not the best way to begin, “I found a phone, while you were in the bathroom. I booked us a motel room - I booked you a room.”

You must have heard him wrong, “sorry?”

“I know how hard it is to have a family member act like that, but living with her can’t be easy,” he tries to put as delicately as possible. “After you’ve been having so much fun tonight, I thought maybe you could use a break. I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. Or, you can tell me this idea was dumb. Whatever-,”

Stopping Gareth in his everlasting ramble, you reach over and plant a kiss to his lips holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket. His lips soften against yours.

“I love you.”

The words slip off your tongue, as you hold him there. You’re the only two people in the crowded gymnasium. Blush pink lights bounce off of his and your hair.

It’s funny how a single moment can rewrite the history and the time of your relationship. All of those moments he spent arguing with Eddie about why you had to be there at their band practice. You were - you are a complete distraction. Bobbing your head up and down to the music, even though you just hear noise. The times you sit on your porch with your nose in a book. Those are the days he recalls begging with fate for you to even glance up with that cross-eyed stare that could melt him. Even your snarky comments couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest for you.

Gareth couldn’t wait to take a bite of that forbidden fruit that was just out of reach. Out on a branch just a bit too high in the sky. But, here is his with you in his arms. Your words hold the key to validate the same feelings that he’s had for a long time. He’s sorry that he’s taken so long to recognize them.

“I love you too,” he hold either side of your face to kiss you.

This is different than the kisses before. Your heart locks to his. Moving as one, you lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else matters except the two of you. Here.

“Hey!” A chaperone hollers. “You can’t do that here!”

The couple does separate in a fit of laughter. Gareth is wearing your lipstick, as he waves off the teacher for interrupting. You pull his jaw back to face you, so that you can begin wiping at the lipstick across his bottom lip.

“Is it my color?” Gareth jokes.

You snort. “Totally.”

After a brief silence, you speak again;

“Do you want to get out of here?”

-> <-

It’s not the cleanest place ever. The motel that is. Understaffed. Underpaid. The clerk at the front appears exhausted, malnourished and far less concerned than one might be seeing two teenagers with a hotel reservation. That must happen a lot. It’s a small enough town that there are only a handful of motels, and none of them are as glamorous as the ones in the big city.

You toy with a fake potted plant that sheds dust when you tamper with its leaves. That’s one of many pieces that could use a fix. There’s a tear in the couch that’s supposed to warm people into staying here. You wonder what might have happened.

“One key is fine,” Gareth tells the front desk lady.

The woman waddles when she walks. Hiding out behind a desk and standing all day does things to you. When she returns, she has the single key to your very own room.

You’ve only spent time at a motel once or twice in your life. Both times were with your mother years ago. She went into the city for a couple of job interviews that fell through. Back then, it was just another job. She assured you there are always more opportunities waiting, and that was just not the right time.

“Check out is eleven tomorrow,” she drops the key into Gareth’s open palm, “we do charge if you’re late.”

“Thanks,” he replies, “have a good evening.”

Leading you through the front doors of the hotel into the evening air, Gareth gives you the key now. You hold the brassy thing in your palm. The engraving reads ‘201.’ So, you’ll be on the second floor and closer to the front desk office. That’s easy enough.

Gareth comes along with you to make sure the room is alright for you. He’s already ready to rain hellfire if anything isn’t up to your standard. But, it’s unlikely seeing that all you really want is a bit of peace and quiet from the world.

Twisting the key into the lock, you push the door forward. It opened. That’s a start. There’s a switch next to the door, so you’re not fumbling around like a moron in front of your date.

It’s simple. A queen-sized bed with a scratchy top sheet you could flick off if you want. There’s a table with a small chair close to the entrance that they consider a ‘dining nook.’ Also, a fat color television in front of the bed. Completely snug in the back is the bathroom. It’s clean, and free of mold, hair, or bugs.

Coming back around from your inspection, Gareth stands still outside of the hotel room.

“What are you still doing out there?” You hold out your hand. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Gareth wants too. He really does, but he still has his mom’s car. This is your retreat anyway. A night away with some peace and quiet. He doesn’t want to screw that up for you.

“My mom is waiting for me,” he tells you honestly. “I’ll come back in the morning and get you.”

“Gare,” the nickname soothes him. “It’s late. Call your mom and tell her that you’re staying at Eddie’s or something. I’m sure he’ll cover for you.”

Gareth snorts out a laugh. It’s silly how easy you can sway his better judgement. That by him not wanting to ruin your evening comes from more than just ‘he has to get home.’ So, he crosses that threshold into the motel room where you are.

Hot breath crosses your face, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

Your voice comes out at a whisper, “please. Please, stay.”

Gareth closes the room’s front door. The outside world is no longer either of your problems. You’re here with him. That’s all that matters.

You spring onto the bed next to him, after using one of the hotel’s wet wipes to rid yourself of your makeup as best you can. There’s a silly little hand lotion that will make up for any of your real lotions back at home. This could have been better thought out. Neither of you have a change of clothes.

“I’ll be home in the morning, mom,” Gareth speaks into the telephone sat on the bedside table. Taking your advice, he fibs that he’s exhausted from dancing all night and will just stay at Eddie’s trailer. “I love you too.”

“I wish my mom was as concerned about me,” you’re half joking when Gareth does hang up the phone, after his mom is done yapping his ear off about the evening. “Do you think she would even answer the phone if I called?”

Gareth unties his tie, and allows a bit of laughter to leak through. You’re taking this very well. So, it can’t be new - your mom’s behavior.

“Gare,” you lean into him, “could you tell me about her? Your grandma that is.”

Oh. Gareth doesn’t have a clear memory of her, before the day he really came to life with full thoughts and full feelings. This is his mother’s mother. She died a few years ago. One morning she got as intoxicated as she could, then left for the store for more beer in the middle of the night during the winter. She found a park bench to sleep on, and never woke up. The doctors said it was the weather that got her.

“I’d have to ask my mom,” he presses a kiss to your forehead as he sinks deeper into the mattress with you. “I think she really liked her. My mom turned out fine, you know. You will too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter into his chest.

For a moment, you lay there. Your breathing is slow. The rise and fall of your chest makes Gareth aware how exhausted you must be after these past few days. However, in the midst of Gareth trying to decipher how he could sleep sitting up straight, your eyes pull open.

“Gare,” you only sit up enough to brush your nose against his. His response is a hum, “kiss me.”

Gareth doesn’t need to be asked twice. Hot lips bathed in that sweetened fruit punch from earlier meet yours. You find your breath is just as shaky as his, and you brush your nose into his as you swing your leg across him settling yourself onto his lap.

Pushing away at the sleeves of Gareth’s jacket, he follows your lead. He would follow you anywhere. You put your hands at the buttons of his shirt, and Gareth’s heart begins to slam against his rib cage. He figures you want him to place his hands somewhere, but he’s a bundle of nerves just waiting to burst.

Placing your palm across his heart, Gareth covers your wrist with his hand and using his thumb he’s counting the number of beats in your heartbeat. It’s just like his.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want too,” there is a note of vulnerability in his tone.

You stop there a moment. Hand still across his chest. His heart beating ever so quickly. You love the soul that carries on next to this heart. The young man willing to give you the world if he could. You’re terrified of love. When love will run as far away from you as he can because you’re too much.

Gareth searches for something deep in your eyes. That you will finally allow yourself to be completely happy. You deserve this. To be truly happy.

There’s a spark in your eye. Your lids droop halfway across your iris.

“We don’t have to do anything you want too,” you say with your lips dangling in front of him.

Gareth meets your eye line, “I want too.”

“Me too.”

-> <-

[to be continued]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson

[blxxmingrose]

hans had his journal in his lap, the pages halfway filled now as the days passed and their garden slowly came to life. there was plenty to keep track of—watering days and rotations and schedules only hans could understand, written in neat handwriting and tracked diligently. his feet were curled underneath him as he sat on the couch, reviewing his work, scooter quietly laying on the floor beside him while jinx was on june’s lap, the pair of them beside hans, filling out the sofa that was perfect just for them. 

“some of the vegetables should be ready to harvest tomorrow,” he said happily with a turn to june, his journal safely set aside for the time being as he leaned against his husband’s chest. “we should make a stew out of them, something hearty for this kind of weather. and then, if the harvest is good, i’d like to set aside some for our landlady,” he added, his fingers tracing lazy circles along june’s palm. 

he was the picture of ease, of finally reaping the hard work of the days prior, and hans was excited to share their bounty. “with much luck, we'll see that we have a healthy garden so that we can sell the next harvest.” his eyes twinkled with the thought, the daunting task turned into something he had grown more excited for as the days passed and he saw the progress. how quickly the plants had grown, and how plump the vegetables looked, all made him look forward to every day. 

and then, of course, there were the flowers. not to be outdone by the other plants, they had started their growth as well, with early blossoms already starting to add color to their yard. “we shall have our flowers soon. there will be plenty to decorate the house, and more for our special day.” with this, he captured june’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before pressing a kiss to the ring he had given june several days ago.

everything had been going on according to plan that hans’ heart was filled with unimaginable joy, the same reflected in his eyes as he scanned june’s face, his voice rising with his excitement. “i hope you haven’t gotten cold feet yet!” 

june exhaled a soft laugh, the warmth of it curling around the last remnants of emotion still thick in his throat. "yeah, you and your tears," he murmured, shaking his head just a little, though his smile was full of nothing but affection. "well, i suppose i knew what i was signing up for." his gaze softened as he brushed his knuckles against hans’s cheek, feeling the lingering dampness there.

hans had always carried his heart so openly, never shying away from feeling deeply, from loving wholly. it was one of the things june adored most about him. there had been a time when june hadn't known what to do with that kind of love — when he had looked at hans and felt something in him shift, something unfamiliar and terrifying in its intensity. but now, now he understood. now he knew that love like this was meant to be felt in full, not held at arm’s length.

he leaned in, pressing his lips gently to hans’s forehead, lingering there as if he could imprint the feeling into his skin. "you can cry as much as you want on our wedding day," he whispered, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "just as long as you can still say your vows through the tears." his fingers traced a slow, comforting path down hans’s jaw before slipping back into the familiar grasp of his hands.

scooter’s bark startled him, though he only laughed at the sudden interruption, watching as hans turned his attention to the dog with that same gentleness he always carried. the sight of it, hans reassuring scooter with a scratch behind the ear, sent a deep warmth through june’s chest. scooter had always been protective, always watching over them like a silent guardian, and it was oddly comforting to know.

june crouched slightly, reaching out to ruffle the fur atop scooter’s head. "you’re always keeping an eye on us, aren’t you?" he said, scratching behind his ears before glancing back up at hans. the garden around them had begun to settle into the hues of the evening, the sunlight casting long shadows across the ground, painting their home in soft golds and deep blues. it was beautiful, peaceful. a place that belonged entirely to them.

he tilted his head slightly at hans’s words, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. "oh? the garden won’t grow with too many eyes on it?" he echoed, amusement laced in his tone. he took hans’s hands again, squeezing them lightly before guiding him toward the house. "come on, then. let’s go inside." and as they stepped towards their home, june found himself stealing one last glance at the garden — their garden. the one they had planted together, the one they would continue to tend to, season after season. it would grow, just as their love had.

and he couldn’t wait to see it bloom.

[csphire]

Hopes and dreams I had for Dragon Age 4 that we so did not get.🙃😢

An actual RPG game. Not Nice Guy, Nice Funny Guy, and Nice but Stern Guy. Let us screw up and piss off our companions.

No more dialogue wheel selection bait and switches. "Nooo I didn't mean that. I did not think they would say that! That's not what I thought that choice meant. I meant-fuck! *sighs* ...I guess I'll have to reload." Or more accurately, "That was the mean option? Are you kidding me!"

Letting the player be an asshole. Sometimes, it's just cathartic to punch a character. People in customer service especially need this at the end of a shift. Putting this in games is a public service. We needed more of those kinds of moments beyond the bloody tutorial.

More of our previous choices having an actual impact in DA4. Like the Well of Sorrows I was so certain would bite an Inquisitor in the ass somehow in the future. Like Morrigan with Mythal in her could force the Inqusitor to hurt or even try to kill Solas. So I agonized over that choice. The same goes for who we left in the fade. Honestly, the three or so that carried over I did not see any impact on DAVG at all. Am I wrong?

Who we left in the fade showing up or we find their body. "Where's Hawke?" Yeah... where's Hawke BioWare? Get's Hawke's clothes instead. Well, that's... depressing.

The option to play as the Inquisitor trying to be low profile or as a nobody aka Rook. This way, everyone is happy, right? For a lot of us, the Inquisitor going toe to toe again with Solas was important.

By playing as the Inquisitor we would have had one sweet Dagna-created prostatic arm-not from Bianca because screw her. Also, depending on our class each one would be a little different. Oh, and that prosthetic would also be customizable just like Varric's crossbow and every other weapon in Dragon Age Inquisition. I really thought BioWare would jump to help feature an amputee in an empowering way. True we had Neve but it felt like more of an afterthought to give her a prosthetic that honestly looks uncomfortable as hell.

Open worlds to collect mats, and kill things to craft gear and weapons for our team only better. It would have given us time to breathe and enjoy the scenery. Plus I like doing that kind of tedious shit and if you don't, fine go buy that stuff I guess.

Vendors that will sell us the goods if we got the coin and none of that faction BS.

"Knife ear!" You think at least the venatori would be shouting that at my elf. Nope! I did not feel like my character's race mattered in this game. I don't think Solas over a decade really put the fear of the gods into the North. We all know isms and slavery are bad but putting those things in a game's world helps people realize why they're bad and can even help people feel what it's like to be on the receiving end of such abuses which can help create a thing called empathy.

Blood! Where is the blood? Why is my character not covered in dirt and the gore of their enemies? Don't like that, fair but what about an on-off feature in settings?

Enemies that send chills down my spine. Instead, the ogres and darkspawn made me bust out laughing. I cannot take them seriously, especially the ogres. I see them and think, "Derp a durr... oh I'm an ogre and soooo scardy... rawr."

Dagna... because she's adorable and if any dwarf deserves magic it's her. Or at least let her nerd out, study Lace and help her understand more about her new abilities.

Sandal Cameo at least. Also adorable aaand... ENCHANTMENT!

Our companions can get hurt. I'm starting to think they made them immortal because they knew some of us would let them get hurt on purpose. There are no feelings of concern at all for them going into combat now, no pick-up mechanics it leaves me feeling only more apathetic about them.

Quicker cooldowns on abilities instead of spamming the left mouse button all of the time. And more than two fucking abilities on my hot bar. BioWare... what were you thinking?

Three or more companions traveling with us instead of two. It was the gold standard all throughout the franchise. How are we supposed to get to know them all when limited to-oh right most of them have a personality as deep as a kiddy pool, never mind.

Companions with personalities and problems deeper than kiddy pools. That tension between Cassandra and Varric, Dorrian and Vivienne, Cole and Sera, and so forth was... chief's kiss.

Control of all THREE of our companions traveling with us in combat. Look, I'm a control freak who likes strategy. Combat for the series has always been centered on strategy, pausing, builds, and gear. Am I still bitter that they dropped us to two? ...Yes.

If playing as the Inquisitor you get the option to romance someone new. Especially let us have the option for Lavellan to move on from Solas.

Better-looking hands and body proportions. Why are the heads so damn big? And honestly the hands in failguard genuinely creep me the hell out with tucking the pinkies away all the time. It's weird! Strange hill to die on I know but they just make me cringe and die a little inside.

Romance scenes that would make Larian and BG3 fans blush. This game was always meant for adults. Adults have *gasp* SEX!

Solas not being a total red flag d-bag for killing our favorite dwarf! Run Lavellan Run! You're probably next. And if not him, Bianca is going for your eyes!

Solas being less of a manipulative antagonist twat and/or the player has the ability to be more diplomatic from the start with Solas to get his help. I feel like Solas' character development sorta backtracked by a lot.

Solas once again is a romance option but this time to EVERYONE! That and I wanted to see Lavellan and Solas finally get it on.

They finally let us romance Varric. Oh they did you so dirty, baby... *ugly crying*

A memorable soundtrack that sets off all the feels and is not stuff that's reused from the Inquisition.

Last but not least, where the fuck is our Golden Nug Bioware?

I might add more later, but feel free to add more and comment below!

[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 3 || “Pinned Down”

Exhaustion was wearing him thin. 

With the drugs coursing through his veins, slowly working its way through his bloodstream, turning his limbs to lead, and his battered, bloody body, which was screaming to give up, Atlas was sure it was a miracle he was still conscious, even if barely so. Any lesser soldier would have collapsed within seconds. He was lucky, so goddamned lucky, that the drugs had only begun to take effect as the car pulled out of the alleyway. 

He couldn’t keep this up much longer. 

As the darkened streets of the pitch-black night passed by, his eyelids growing heavier for every minute that ticked past, Atlas knew that he was running out of time. His breathing was slowing, breaths coming out ragged and heavy. His body was giving up, the blood loss and drugs finally taking hold. He knew it was only moments before his eyelids fluttered closed for the final time, and he was lost to Eden’s clutches. 

He and the man across from him both knew it. 

Atlas had never officially met the man before, prior to this night. He was sure they had run into each other, or at least almost had, in one of the many circumstances he and Wren had just barely missed capture in their haste. From the uniform he was wearing, the familiar black material with jade accents, the insignia of an eye resting just above his heart, Atlas knew exactly who he was. One of Eden’s commanders.

And he had fallen right into his trap. 

This mission had been intended to be a short one. It wasn’t one of their high-scale raids, with days of planning and carefully-chosen volunteers. No, it had been only the three of them: Him, Wren, and Alastair. They’d gone to one of Eden’s more low-security locations, a human building on the west-side of downtown. They’d blended in, snuck a bit of information and files out, and been done with it. There were no injuries to worry about, no attacks or pursuits they had to avoid. None of the usual issues to leave him distracted. 

He would’ve been fine – should’ve been fine.

But Alastair came with them last minute, and he’d been pissed. Pissed because they weren’t partners anymore and Wren was still treating him like one, pissed because they hadn’t even bothered to tell him, just dumped Alastair on him as they were leaving, like they got to make all the decisions. Like his voice didn’t count. He’d been pissed because Alastair was a lying, conniving, traitorous piece of shit and he wasn’t about to be used. Not again. 

So he’d gotten distracted, too wrapped up in how Alastair was sitting next to him all timid and nervous like Atlas was the one that had fucked things over, like Atlas was the one that had tried to sell them all out to their sworn enemy, the very man who had been hunting them down for months. The man who had burned him, and who was a drunk, and a murderer, and evil, and Alastair’s secret brother–

So when they set up camp, Wren declaring they were too tired to make the hour drive back to the base, Atlas hadn’t taken all the proper precautions like he usually would’ve, reminding them to set up an illusion. He hadn’t marched around the perimeter of their camp, checking their surroundings for anything suspicious, watching for any figures in the shadows, hidden perched on rooftops. He hadn’t noticed the cameras positioned above the van, or the odd silence that had settled over the street. He had been too angry for any of it, all of his attention set on Alastair’s slumped over figure, as he pathetically tried to make small talk, as if his weak attempts at conversation, the flitting little glances, eyes begging for forgiveness, would make anything better. 

He’d let his emotions control him. It was what he had been trained against, what they had warned him about. Soldiers didn’t have emotions. They didn’t have thoughts or opinions or feelings. It was what made them weak, what made them useless. He had spent so many years of his life dedicating himself to it, ridding the weaknesses that had been ingrained into his brain, pushing down every little emotion that slowed and held him back from his true goal, his mission. And yet, still, his emotions had been his very downfall. 

And now he found himself inside the sleek black van of Eden’s own, two men flanking his sides, pressing him down into the seat, their grip strong as iron as the sedatives slowly took control over his brain. 

His eyes fluttered shut for the millionth time in the past minute, and Atlas sucked in a sharp breath, flexing his fingers. All rational thought had been lost long ago, left in the alleyway with the rest of his dignity. Nonsensical plans swirled through his head, each new one worse than the last. He was growing weaker by the second, the borrowed strength stolen from Wren and Alastair fading from his muscles the farther the car travelled.

The farther they left them behind.  

He grunted, squirming from under his captors pathetically. They didn’t give up, their grip on his arms only tightening at his defiance. 

The man from across from him sighed, straightening up in his seat with a wince. To his credit, Atlas had not gone down without a fight. The blood smeared across the man’s crisply ironed suit was evident of that. The sight of the broken nose and red caked to the side of his face brought a boost of satisfaction surging through Atlas, distracting him from his own injuries, if only for a second. The fact that the man wouldn’t be able to show his face to the general public until his nose healed, lest rumours start about one of the esteemed CEO’s of the kindly Eden Inc., almost made the capture worth it. Almost. 

“Still up, huh?” He leaned forward in his seat, the streetlights from outside illuminating his face, causing the dangerous flicker in his eyes to be all the more unsettling. Atlas vaguely remembered him from the many lectures, photographs, and history textbooks he had read during his rather uneventful years at the warehouse. The face of Eden. Sasha Beneš. From the prim and proper suit, voice as smooth as velvet, and chiselled good looks, he was sure that the man in front of him was the current leader of the media branch, involved in all the politics and communications that came with running a widely known corporation such as Eden. Although he looked a little different with his nose so busted, his usually swoopy blond hair in a disarray from the scuffle. 

The man didn’t seem to be bothered by Atlas’ lack of response. If anything, he was amused, chuckling softly to himself as the boy did nothing but glare through half-lidded eyes, gaze alight with hatred. “Forgot you soldier-types are all trained to resist this sort of stuff,” Sasha muttered, reaching across the seat for something Atlas couldn’t make out. “God, Cato needs to lay off you brats a bit, you’re all too invincible for your own good. That woman doesn’t ever know when to take a fucking break.” He huffed out a breath of annoyance, turning back to Atlas, his eyes gleaming, shadows cutting sharp edges across his face. A beat of silence passing through the van, he held up the item for the boy to see: A vial of swirling milky-white liquid, a needle tip at the very end of it. 

Atlas’ blood froze, the restraints around him suddenly suffocating. 

“Don’t try and resist, kid,” Sasha cracked a grin, looming closer. “There’s no use.” 

Atlas sucked in a sharp breath, opening his mouth, to beg for mercy or tell the man to go fuck himself, he wasn’t sure. But his tongue was suddenly stuck at the back of his throat, the words gone before they could even leave his mouth. All struggle was just met with more force, pushing him down into the seat. It was smooth leather, well-cushioned and comfortable, but right now, it was the last thing Atlas needed. He blinked hard, pushing back the waves of exhaustion that were rolling over him, telling him to sleep, to give up. 

Wren and Alastair. He needed to get out and find Wren and Alastair–

Sasha pushed back his hair, fingers brushing against the soft crook of his neck. Atlas shuddered, every instinct inside his body telling him to fight, to defy him, but with the weight on his legs and arms, pinning him to the seat, he was completely and utterly trapped. 

“You belong to Eden, Zieliński. Don’t forget that.” Sasha whispered, his breath hot against Atlas’ skin. He raised the needle, the tip pricking against his skin, sending Atlas into a paralyzing panic. He had to get out–

“Sweet dreams.”

Sasha stabbed the needle into his neck and everything went black.

masterlist || next

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

I initially had a much different scene planned for this prompt, but when I sat down to write this one I wasn’t really feeling it, so I came up with this instead!! I kinda like it better, tbh. but who knows, maybe I’ll write the other one (featuring post-Elite Atlas), after this whole challenge is over……

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

taglist || @febuwhump @ohagi505 @vesanal @aalinaaaaaa @fangedcinnamonroll @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @seastarblue @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @iamheretohurt @corinneglass @melodxi @thebookishkiwi @lancedoncrimsonwings @sugaredparchment @cepheusgalaxy @fizzydreamz @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @nosebleedgirlpunch @sunflowerrosy @charlachan

✩ Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed from the taglist ✩

[diamonddaze01]

beautiful fool [TEASER]

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader | teaser wc: 0.6k genre: angst angst angst | vaguely based on the great gatsby warnings: really really sad (i’m not sorry) a/n: the angst olympics have begun and this one goes out to @gotta-winwin this is only a SLIVER of the pain i will cause u i love u sm // thank u to @ylangelegy and @haologram for beta-ing i love u both muah

the angst olympics are live! check out all the amazing authors <3 join my taglist here

summary: Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope.

It’s cruel, Wonwoo thinks, how the sound of your laughter feels like both a blessing and a punishment.

The laughter now—it reminds him of the first time he heard it, ringing out like an unintentional symphony in this same café, on a day when the clouds hung heavy outside and the tables were quiet. You’d burst in with the kind of presence that demanded attention, the bell above the door jangling in your wake as you called out a cheerful, “What’s good here, huh? I need recommendations from the experts!”

You’d strode up to the counter, all wide eyes and crinkled smiles, resting your elbows on the worn wood like you belonged there. And Wonwoo—awkward, reserved Wonwoo—could only blink for a moment too long before fumbling for words.

“Um,” he had managed, his voice barely carrying over the soft jazz playing in the background. “The, uh, the matcha latte is… popular?”

“Popular?” you’d repeated, feigning horror as if he’d personally offended you. “That’s the best you’ve got? Come on, barista guy, sell me on it! Give me the rundown—what’s the vibe? Is it creamy, is it sweet? Am I about to ascend to a higher plane of existence?”

The words tumbled out of you like you couldn’t stop them, every syllable bubbling with life. He’d tried to respond, he really had, but his gaze kept catching on the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled. How your lips quirked in amusement even as you teased him. How, somehow, your laughter seemed to make the dull, gray afternoon outside feel brighter.

“It’s… creamy,” he’d said lamely, his face warming. “And… uh, it’s sweet, yeah.”

“Sold,” you’d said with a grin that made his chest ache.

When he handed you the drink, your fingers had brushed his for the briefest second. He remembered how you took a sip, sighed dramatically, and declared, “Barista guy, you were right—I might actually ascend. Thank you for this life-changing experience.”

You hadn’t stayed long that day, just enough to finish your drink and leave a tip in the jar, but Wonwoo had found himself replaying the scene over and over in his head that night. He remembered everything—the way you’d wrinkled your nose at the cold weather outside, the exact cadence of your laugh, the way you’d glanced over your shoulder as you left, flashing him one last smile.

He’d learned later, when you became a regular, that this was just you. Full of energy, full of light. But that first meeting stayed with him, a snapshot of you permanently etched into his memory.

The fifth time you came into the café, the heat outside was so stifling that not even the air conditioner could stop the sweat from rolling down Wonwoo’s temples. By then, he’d learned so much about you in the smallest of ways. Your usual drink had changed once—just once—during a brutal heatwave, and you’d swapped it out for an iced Americano, claiming it “felt like a personality betrayal.” He’d learned you liked your pastries warmed, but not too warm, and that you loved to read but always left your books with bent corners, something that made him wince and you laugh.

And he’d learned your name.

That was the first barrier you broke—offering your name with a playful smile as he handed you your drink. “You’ve been calling me ‘matcha latte’ in your head this whole time, haven’t you?” you teased.

He’d stumbled over his words, his ears turning red, and you’d laughed again, your name falling so naturally from your lips it stuck in his mind immediately.

[seitmai]

Against his normally strong sense of self preservation, he went after you.

I get it, my sense of self preservation isn't that strong either 😅

His hair was different, cut quite a bit shorter, but still floofy on top, and he still had a beard, but it was tamed. He carried himself a little differently as well, as if he could buy and sell this entire house and everyone in it but didn’t want to, an air of confidence and expectation, directed toward you.

Hot

These subtle differences hit you right in the pussy, because damn, he looked good, he smelled good, and that big dick energy was enormous.

Something tells me that is not just energy 🤭

You turned around, a Japanese steel carving knife in your hand. Steve felt his eyes widen and he put his hands up and backed away until the counter behind him stopped his retreat. He knew he could easily take the knife from you and calm you down, but now was not the time for force. It was time to grovel.

It sure is😌

How could you want to murder him, fuck him, and also just bury yourself in his chest? 

Urgh I'm just a girl

“I’m not angry, Steven. I have no feelings for you whatsoever.” Steve’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t expecting that. “If I ever felt anything for anyone, it may have been Grant Stevens, but he doesn’t exist.”

That probably hits harder than being angry

“There’s another entrance to the dining room through the hallway by the bathrooms. Use it. I do not want to be associated with lying sacks of shit.”

Shea not holding back 😅

You straightened your spine and Steve couldn’t help but watch your beautiful body leave him in the dust. It was then that he knew he was in love.

Oh he is so whipped 🤭

“Remember when you said I didn’t really “get it” when you were talking about speeding up the timeline? Bucky nodded, intrigued. “Well, I do now. And the story starts in Atlanta….”

Hahah oh Steve 😅

“I know. I’m such an idiot. But I panicked. I think I knew I was in love but I’d fucked up. In the back of my mind I was always going to go back once we got clean and tell her the truth but…”

The personification of idiot in love 😅

“She threatened to slit my throat when she saw me today. She had the carving knife in her hand.” Bucky grinned at his friend who was gazing dreamily out of the window. “I knew I liked her. My kind of girl. She’s perfect for you.”

This is just such a perfect conversation 😂

“Well. Damn.” Steve saw you without makeup, that delectable mouth in a sexy O, and those eyes wide and got hard instantly. He was so ruined.

Whoops 🤭

“You’re right, Peach. Now is not the time for explanations. Maybe we just need to finish what we started in Atlanta. Get the tension out so we can talk. Let me fuck you so hard that we both cum. Hard. So we can have a civil conversation.”

I mean🤷🏻‍♀️

“You want me to beg, Peach? To get on my knees for you and beg to give me just a few hours of your time to show you that I am completely and utterly yours, Y/N/LN.”

Oh I would absolutely love that actually 🤭😌

You stared at him as he nodded at you and started rubbing himself through his pajama pants like a heathen. “I want to bite into you, Peach.” You opened your mouth to breathe. “Not hard. Just enough to see how soft your skin is. Just so you can feel it throughout your body…you are…fuck… you are so fine… I need to consume you.”

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“My aunt Karen keeps a shotgun by the bed. Get the fuck out of my room before I go get it and shoot your gotdamn balls off.”

And I'm sure she would keep her words 🤭

The grin that Steve wore as he walked back to his room was blinding. You were the perfect woman for him. He just had to convince you.

He is motivated and dedicated

Peach, Part III

Part II

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. And now he is in love. With you. A woman he lied to about a myriad of things. Now he just needs to convince you to forgive him. And spend the rest of your life with him.

Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two and there is so much to say. More parts to come.This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and AFTER the events in the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part will be published next week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angsty angst! Steve is called ‘Steve’ and ‘Grant’ at the beginning, because lies. Mutual pining, attempted masturbation, wild thoughts, threats with a knife, talk of a gun, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink, did I say ANGST? Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

As soon as Steve and Bucky stepped into the house in Hilton Head, Frumoasă’s family welcomed them warmly. Steve felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long while as he watched Bucky and his girl reunite. It had only been a few days, but the emotion between them was palpable.

Steve was happy for his friend, that after years of playing around he finally found his one. His mind drifted to a certain someone in Georgia as his eyes scanned the room for the family’s reaction to this reunion.

When his eyes lighted on you, Steve did a double take, thinking that he was hallucinating.

There you were, beautiful as ever, staring at him like a deer in the headlights, your rapid breathing making your chest rise and fall under the form fitting dress you were wearing.

Steve’s heartbeat was out of control as his eyes traced your form, down to those sexy high heeled boots, and then back up again to that face, those lips, those eyes! 

You looked as if you had seen a ghost. After a few seconds, recognition filled them as you looked from Bucky and Frumoasa and then back to Steve.

Steve knew the moment you understood what he had done. He saw your eyes flash at him, almost felt your body tense and could only watch your flight into the kitchen. 

Against his normally strong sense of self preservation, he went after you.

—-

The instant your eyes met Grant Stevens' ocean blue gaze, you lost all focus. You flushed and became physically affected by his proximity. You watched in silence as he stepped into the room behind the attractive dark haired man that your cousin flew to embrace and closed the door behind him.

You were confused as to why he was here with this other man and what was going on.

As your family’s chatter increased, you realized that this must be Bucky Barnes, whom you’d heard so much about from your cousin. You were impressed that he came after her; you knew how bull headed she was. 

Almost as much as you were.

Then it hit you.

The man with him was not Grant Stevens, ordinary bartender, this was Steve Rogers, multi millionaire mobster and Bucky Barnes’ best friend. 

Your eyes took in the scene and then met Grant’s (no Steve’s) again and you shook yourself from your daze. The man you knew in Atlanta was the same, but different. 

His hair was different, cut quite a bit shorter, but still floofy on top, and he still had a beard, but it was tamed. He carried himself a little differently as well, as if he could buy and sell this entire house and everyone in it but didn’t want to, an air of confidence and expectation, directed toward you.

These subtle differences hit you right in the pussy, because damn, he looked good, he smelled good, and that big dick energy was enormous.

But then you realized how he’d lied to you and rage, disbelief, and betrayal flooded your body. You tried to regulate after realizing that your jaw was clenched and your hands were balled into fists.

Rather than deck this man in front of your family and draw attention to this fucked up situation, you retreated into the kitchen, hoping that Steve would have the good sense not to follow you. 

You went to the sink and gazed out of the window to the beach, attempting to be soothed by the vision of the tide retreating and returning until you heard the door open and close behind you.

Without turning around, you shook your head to clear it from the haze his rich, woodsy scent cast over you. 

And also to warn Steve Rogers.

“DO NOT come near me.”

—--

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute and he was sweating as he pursued you, but he couldn’t help himself. This thing between you and him was undeniable. 

At least to him.

And so he came around the sizable kitchen island to talk to you despite your warning.

His mouth was dry when he attempted to speak, but he had to try.

“Peach… I—“

You turned around, a Japanese steel carving knife in your hand.

Steve felt his eyes widen and he put his hands up and backed away until the counter behind him stopped his retreat. He knew he could easily take the knife from you and calm you down, but now was not the time for force. 

It was time to grovel.

“Peach, please…”

You advanced upon him, tip of the knife pointed at Steve’s throat. Your pulse quickened as you got nearer to him, only because you were going to kill him, you thought. 

Not because he was so damn fine. No.

Not because your nipples were tight and your pussy was pounding as you remembered his hands on you, inside you, and his hard body against you as his mouth invaded yours. 

You were so caught up that you could only stare at him as you threatened his life. 

You searched Steve’s handsome face for the hint of a smirk, which, to his credit, wasn’t there. Steve looked earnest, like a little boy even, so your eyes moved away from his face and down to the impossible broadness of his shoulders in the fine brown suede jacket over brown cashmere sweater, to his tailored brown slacks, skipping over the bulge there down to his big feet in brown suede boots.

The tone on tone was attractive and the hint of the chain of his St. Stephen’s medal, the same one he wore in Atlanta, was about to make you go feral.

This man affected you in the worst ways. 

How could you want to murder him, fuck him, and also just bury yourself in his chest? 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Steve dropped his head and stared down at the knife at his neck when you spoke

He deserved every cut you wanted to give him. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Peach.”

He looked back up at you and you gasped, the knife dropping a little. At the same time, while holding your gaze, Steve slowly moved his hands toward yours, which was trembling slightly now. You nodded a little as he reached for the knife and he took it gently out of your hand.

He moved toward you and you backed up as he reached beside you to put the knife down, rendering it available if you wanted to hurt him again.

You were impressed. 

But you didn’t trust him one bit.

“Back the fuck up, Grant. Or Steven. Or whatever the fuck you are calling yourself today.”

Steve created space and leaned against the opposite counter, looking more comfortable than your angry heart agreed with.

“I deserve your anger, Peach. But I can explain.”

At that, you straightened up and picked up the knife again.

“I’m not angry, Steven. I have no feelings for you whatsoever.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t expecting that. 

“If I ever felt anything for anyone, it may have been Grant Stevens, but he doesn’t exist.”

You examined the knife, but didn’t point it at him this time.

“Since he doesn’t exist, neither do my feelings or any chance I allow you to get close to me ever again.”

Your multicolored eyes stared into Steve’s and he shivered. 

“Now, this is obviously a big deal for my cousin out there, and for your friend. I’m not going to spoil this for her. But you.”

You indicated Steve with the knife.

“You, stay the fuck away from me. Pretend I don’t exist and I,” You smiled a little.

“Well, I don’t have to do that, do I?  Because not only did you lie to me, you ghosted me.”

Steve felt like the most despicable man on earth. 

“So, you’re dead to me, Grant Stevens.”

You moved around the island to go back to the dining room with the knife in your hand.

“There’s another entrance to the dining room through the hallway by the bathrooms. Use it. I do not want to be associated with lying sacks of shit.”

You straightened your spine and Steve couldn’t help but watch your beautiful body leave him in the dust.

It was then that he knew he was in love.

—--

At dinner Steve watched everything unfold with consternation, but also amusement and curiosity. Bucky and his girl were about to crawl under the table and fuck, even though her parents were grilling him, but his friend had it under control.

Steve wanted to know what you thought of all this and when he looked at you, he thought he caught you checking for him a couple of times, but you always seemed to be looking at something else. 

You were clearly still pissed at him. 

Which gave him hope.

Because regardless of what you said about being dead to you, there was still some strong emotions swirling around in that head of yours.

Which meant you were thinking about him. 

He had to get you alone to talk. But he didn’t know how.

When your aunt suggested he and Bucky stay over, he silently thanked the stars above.

Now he was getting somewhere.

—--

When your Aunt Karen opened her home to criminals and liars, you almost drove back to Atlanta. You sat there and stewed as this handsome asshole smirked across the table at you.

You should have used the knife.

This was going to be the longest four days of your life.

When Bucky and Steve left to retrieve their belongings from the hotel, you looked over to see your cousin staring at you. You thought she was too caught up in Bucky to notice anything.

You were wrong. She continued staring at you as she called out to her mother.

“Ma, Peach and I are going for a walk on the beach to work off dinner, we’ll be back soon.”

As soon as you were out of earshot, the interrogation began.

“What the fuck is up, bitch?”

You told her the entire story.

—-

“You gonna tell me what is going on now?”

Steve looked over at Bucky as they drove to the Surf Song Inn to get their luggage. He would be the only one to understand what he was going through.

“Remember when you said I didn’t really “get it” when you were talking about speeding up the timeline?

Bucky nodded, intrigued.

“Well, I do now. And the story starts in Atlanta….”

By the time Steve was done, Bucky’s mouth was hanging open.

“I noticed that she’s a looker; definitely related to my Frumoasa.”

They chuckled and Steve shook his head at his friend.

“Now that I know what’s going on, with the extension of the Atlanta deal, and the foundation outlay… You’ve got it fucking bad.”

Bucky laughed at his friend.

Steve groaned.

“Stop busting my balls, Buck. I need help.”

Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t know man. My girl and I certainly went through something like this, but she knew my real name, for fuck’s sake. And I never left her hanging to run off into the night forever. I want to fucking punch you for that shit.”

Bucky was serious. 

“I know. I’m such an idiot. But I panicked. I think I knew I was in love but I’d fucked up. In the back of my mind I was always going to go back once we got clean and tell her the truth but…”

“Fate won out?”

“Yeah.”

There was silence in the car as the sounds of the ocean surrounded them.

“She threatened to slit my throat when she saw me today. She had the carving knife in her hand.”

Bucky grinned at his friend who was gazing dreamily out of the window.

“I knew I liked her. My kind of girl. She’s perfect for you.”

“Punk. But how do I get her to realize that?”

“Persistence my friend. Persistence. And cunning.”

—--

By the time Steve and Bucky had returned, there was a plan, but almost as soon as he stepped into the house, your cousin grabbed him up. He followed her into the kitchen, afraid of another knife attack.

“Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Steven Gran Rogers? You trying to run game on my cousin? We don’t play that, I will fuck you up!”

This time it wasn’t a knife, but your cousin’s finger pointed at him

“I love her.”

She froze, mouth open and finger in mid air.

“Well. Damn.”

She straightened up and leaned on the counter as Bucky came in.

“May I join the party?”

His girl glared at him and he put his hands up as he walked up on her and took her in his arms.

“I promise, I didn’t know a thing about it. I’ve been a little distracted lately.

He kissed her and her ire was gone. Steve wished it were that easy for him.

“So you’re in love but you fucked her over, and she wants nothing to do with you. Cool.”

Your cousin wasn’t scowling at him, but she wasn’t smiling either.

“Yeah, I’m fucked. But i’ve got a plan.”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and grinned. Your cousin looked from one to the other. Then they told her the plan.

“Oh hell. My poor cousin. But you forgot one important thing…”

—--

The rest of the night was spent playing board games, watching football, and outrageous flirting between Bucky and your cousin. 

Oh, and you avoiding Steve Rogers at all costs. 

If he came into a room, you exited, if you heard his voice in another, you scowled. He was ruining your holiday. You were stressed beyond belief. But you had something for that.

You knew that your cousin was planning on meeting Bucky in the basement and being a freak, so that’s when you and your handy dandy little bullet vibrator would meet up.

You needed to relieve the tension Steve being in the house had placed on your pussy. You were afraid you would fold and fuck him.

All you needed was to cum and you could think straight.

When your cousin snuck out of the room, she thought you were asleep, but you were just hiding and waiting for her to leave. Just when you pulled the bullet from under your pillow, your door opened and your light came on. You sat up in bed when you saw it was Steve, prepared to cuss him out.

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, a vision with his big, bare feet, plaid pajama pants and size smedium henley.

It was still a crime how good this man looked. 

And how much he affected you.

Steve saw you without makeup, that delectable mouth in a sexy O, and those eyes wide and got hard instantly. 

He was so ruined.

You watched Steve watching you and then watched him reach up and rub the back of his neck and damn, did his bicep look good as he unconsciously flexed. 

“I need to explain, Peach.”

“You don’t need to do a gotdamn thing but get the fuck out of my room.”

“Please…”

“Don’t give me that shit. That fake apology begging shit. You’re nothing but a liar, and a manipulator. Trying to fuck me under an alias. Pretending to be something you’re not.”

Steve grew exasperated and damn you if the sight of him potentially angry didn’t turn you on more. Did you actually want him to fight for you? 

You had a problem. A six foot, two inch problem.

“I didn’t fuck you, did I? I realized what I was doing was wrong and I stopped.”

You huffed and cocked your head.

“Yeah. You ran. Which was the easy way out. Instead of staying and apologizing and telling me the fucking truth. I don’t need your explanation now, asshole. You better be glad I don’t scream my ass off! Coming in here like you’re going to make me beg for you to put your little dick inside me and have your way with me in all the holes that you can.”

Steve raised his eyebrow, heart rate increasing. You wanted him.

“That's very oddly specific, Peach. Been thinking about me? Been fantasizing?”

His fervent whisper made you shiver.  

“And I think you’ve ascertained by now that it’s not little.”

He smirked as you glared at him. 

“You’re right, Peach. Now is not the time for explanations. Maybe we just need to finish what we started in Atlanta. Get the tension out so we can talk. Let me fuck you so hard that we both cum. Hard. So we can have a civil conversation.”

God, I need her to cum around my cock, those thighs wrapped around me, Steve thought. It was his only goal at the moment.

Your pussy sat up and took notice as you were silent, adjusting the pillow with the bullet under it so that he wouldn’t know what you were planning to do. He studied you as you sat up straighter in the bed.

You both knew that one fuck wouldn’t end the beef. In fact, you guessed correctly that you wouldn't be able to get enough.

“You want me to beg, Peach? To get on my knees for you and beg to give me just a few hours of your time to show you that I am completely and utterly yours, Y/N/LN.”

You stared at him as he nodded at you and started rubbing himself through his pajama pants like a heathen.

“But what would you let me come in here and do to you that would make you scream your ass off Peach, if I begged to your satisfaction?”

His eyes roamed your body, stopping at your rigid nipples through the thin material. 

Steve was thirsty now.

“Would you let me touch you?”

His baritone voice was destroying your pussy right now. She was practically humming and vibrating on nothing at the moment, and you wondered if you could come from words alone. 

Steve wondered the same thing.

So he tried it.

“Would you let me?” 

Waves of desire rolled off of him and you could feel it from across the room. He was itching to move close and touch you, but you needed to make the first move. 

So what he said to you was, “Would you let me get my dirty criminal hands all over you, Peach?” 

You tensed, not knowing if you wanted to strangle him or climb on his penis. But then you thought both, at the same time, and crossed your arms against your body instead.

“N-no!”

That damn eyebrow shot up and you looked away, not knowing if you had the strength to endure.

“I want to bite into you, Peach.”

You opened your mouth to breathe.

“Not hard. Just enough to see how soft your skin is. Just so you can feel it throughout your body…you are…fuck… you are so fine… I need to consume you.”

You were in the same room with the big bad wolf, and yet you didn’t want to escape.

“I wonder…”

He trailed off, and you turned your head and gained eye contact, curious and wound up tight. Your pussy was pounding now, and you knew he had to smell your scent. He was actually licking his chops. 

“Would you let me slide my tongue inside you and lick you clean?”

He watched his eyes dilate as your eyes shuttered and a sound came out from your throat. It was a whimper of need that you cut short by clearing your throat, but not before Steve’s eyes flicked down to your sleep shorts and your thighs rubbing against each other. He knew you had to be soaking wet. 

He licked his lips and nodded, agreeing with your lust.

“Yes. Want, no need, to rub my cock all over your beautiful body. Feed it to you inch by inch, until you take it down your throat.”

You closed your eyes to shut off the sight of him, but the images of what he was saying assaulted you. You were so close to giving in. 

“Will you, Peach? Let me rub this big dick all over that body?”

You opened your eyes and stared as Steve grabbed himself, holding it out for you. You were incredulous when you saw how thick and how long it was under his sleep pants. You licked your lips, suddenly very thirsty.

“Will you let me feed you this cock inch by fucking inch, till I’m down your throat?” 

Steve assessed you.

“I told you that you’d struggle to take it. But I bet you’d take it like the naughty little good girl you are. You’d gag on it for me.”

You wanted to crawl over to him on your knees and do as he said. But you were not going to fold. You took a deep breath, stood up slowly and walked over to him, his smile growing the nearer you approached.

You stopped just shy of touching him, his cock, his hands, those lips all there for the taking. You looked him dead in the eye.

“My aunt Karen keeps a shotgun by the bed. Get the fuck out of my room before I go get it and shoot your gotdamn balls off.”

The grin that Steve wore as he walked back to his room was blinding. You were the perfect woman for him. He just had to convince you.

He was still grinning when Bucky snuck back in the room from his rendezvous with his girl.

“I’m in.”

—--

The next morning you woke almost refreshed, having used your bullet successfully after Steve left the room. You got off in no time and renewed your strength. You even managed to tease your cousin who did the tiptoe of shame back to your shared bedroom before you fell asleep.

You came downstairs to the sight of your aunt and uncle on the way to coffee with Bucky and your cousin about to throw up.

It was obvious what was about to happen and you felt bad as she ran out to the beach to get some air. Maybe you were taking things out on her. As you watched her head toward the beach, you felt the hair on the back of your head rise.

You turned around to see Steve’s cerulean eyes appraising you. You suddenly felt self conscious about your sleep short set.

“Morning.”

“Hmmph.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, and you are correct. I’m sorry for continuing to pursuing you. What I did was wrong and there’s no future for us. We need to just cut ties. But there is one thing. The foundation.”

One of the things you’d realized was that the Rebirth Foundation that had bailed you out of debt and enabled you to quit stripping and start your dance school was the creation of Steve and Bucky. Your cousin told you it was a very real endeavor, but that Steve and Bucky did run it. 

“Yes. That’s unfortunate.”

“So. What do you want to do about that?”

Steve leaned back and damn, the power of grey sweats was not lost on you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. I am the managing director of the foundation. If you keep the money, you’ll have to have contact with me; remember the stipulations?”

You grimaced as you recalled the terms of the endowment. A summit in New York, site visits. Shit. 

You crossed your arms and cocked your hip. Steve kept his eyes on your face. That threw you for a second. You cleared your throat.

“Are you trying to blackmail me, Rogers.”

Steve shook his head. 

“No. I knew you would think that. You are welcome to keep the money. I can just consider it a gift. I’ll pay the money back to the foundation out of my personal funds. Consider it a fine for my crimes.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. Then you looked back up at him, your head held high. 

“I’m not a coward, Mr. Rogers. I can fulfill my end of the bargain, even if you…” 

You stopped short.

“I can fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Steve looked at you for a long while, his blue eyes sad. Your heart clenched.

“Good. Your students deserve it. You should have a message in your inbox about the summit on December 15th. You don’t have to RSVP until next week because of the holiday."

Steve stood up and walked toward the kitchen door. 

“I’m gonna go see if your cousin is okay.”

You gaped as the man you thought you hated went to go care for your family. And if what you presumed was going to happen did happen, he was going to be like family for the rest of your life.

You were screwed.

[crowley-winter-boots]

Instead of humouring the messages in the screenshot, I would like to make a post regarding people who think this way. DO NOT LOOK FOR THIS INDIVIDUAL OR HARASS THEM. I know people like to jump the gun and do that online, so please don't bother with it. I am making this post to address, that you can in fact, still protest without attending mass protests and that not everyone is able to attend those mass protests.

(*Notice how I didn't "name call", I said "I won't reply anymore as I'm PRETTY SURE you're trolling." I was making an observation based on past experiences, and I'm still convinced they were only saying this to cause problems.)

You CAN still protest without going to larger protests. Its OKAY if you can't attend those large protests.

Here are some ways you can help out if you're unable to go to a protest!

Spread the word

One of the best ways to get people to attend is to tell other people about it! The more people that know, the more that can know when and where to show up.

Find a way that fits you to do something as an individual

There are a few ways you can go about this, but here is what I've personally been doing:

- I've been wearing a pride flag to school. Specifically, the trans flag. Pride flags banned from hanging up in schools? Nothing in the dress code that denies it. It will make people angry and confused, but it will also make people like you feel seen. I've had a lot of negative reactions from students and teachers alike, but there have been fellow queer kids who walk up to me and talk to me about my flag, often saying they wish they had one of their own. I'm planning on painting "WE THE PEOPLE" on it soon (I was going to this weekend, but there was too much going on and I didn't want to start a project I couldn't finish before school on Monday.)

- Make a battle vest (or any other punk fashion, such as crust pants!) I've been working on mine, and will post the patches and progress soon. I've been meaning to make one for a while for myself, but put it off until recently. I'll also make a post going more into detail on how you can make punk fashion yourself, and the ideology of punks.

**PLEASE NOTE. Both of these can be dangerous. Especially wearing a pride flag, as there is't anything that can make it safer. With the punk fashion, there are ways to make it safer, and I'll go more into detail on that on my other post: but essentially, you don't want any political statements or pride flags on the back. You won't see anyone coming, and they'll be less likely to attack you if they see it from the front.

Talk to local activist groups to set one up in your area

I'm not too sure about how this process works, as I haven't yet contacted any local activist groups to set up a protest. I'm not even sure if that's how you CAN set up a protest, but I asked around and this was the answer I had gotten. I'll make an update once I figure out how to set up a protest and if I personally was able to (and the details of the protest, ofc!)

Make signs or stickers to post in your community

There are a lot of ways you can make signs and/or stickers! I've never made a sign myself, so you'll have to do the research yourself for that, but you could make them as flyers with paper as well. But with stickers, they're relatively easy to make! I sold some for a while, and made about $250 off of it in just a few weeks by selling them on my school campus. You just need a pack of sticker paper (GLOSSY makes it shiny, MATTE makes it flat like printer paper,) a printer, and some kind of art app to import your images on. Fitting stickers is like a jigsaw puzzle- you'll need to rotate them at weird angles and fit any nook into any cranny. Find patterns, repeating patterns will make the process easier. The goal is to have as little white space as possible- but that being said, leave enough room between each sticker to give a solid border. A common mistake I made when I first started making stickers was overlapping the edges.

Join communities online

Discord servers are a good way to find online communities for people who want to oppose the American government! I am in a server that shares resources, information, protest days, and more. I can share the link in DMs, and you can also look online to find more.

Start a social media platform

That's what my blog is for! I'm posting online as a form of protest. There are a number of social media platforms (except Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok....) that you can advocate on. I do believe Tumblr and YouTube are the safest ones, and therefore have the biggest communities on there.

Buy banned books

THESE WON'T BE SOLD ANYMORE, SOON. They are information and knowledge the government is afraid of. The Diary of Anne Frank is on the list, which just goes to show how far they're going in this. They know they're fascists. They know America is going through the same beginning stages of a fascist dictator's overtake of a country. You can find a lot of these secondhand before they're gone. Find PDFs online of the books and download them in a place they can't be deleted. Physical copies are much better to have as they can't be taken away.

Pirate and get physical copies of music

Alphatron, FMovies, those are good sites for live action. WCO.tv is a good site for cartoons (and as far as I know, perfectly legal online archive!)

Learn how to burn CDs. Collect CDs. Collect vinyl records. And please, for the love of the Gods, DON'T USE SPOTIFY. I used Spotify because it was the easiest option for me, but they financially supported Trump's campaign. I switched to YouTube Music. Even the free version of Spotify supports the company- every song you listen to and every advertisement you sit through puts more coins into their bank account. I also have a vinyl collection I've been growing for 3-4 years. I'm thinking about learning how to burn CDs and get a Walkman (I currently don't have money, but I'm looking to get a job soon.) Like with the banned books, physical copies are the best. They'll have to pry it from your cold, dead hands.

That's all I have for now!! Feel free to add onto this with your own ways to protest and/or additional information from what I've already put.

[joces-wrld]

𖦹✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ midnight shopping

✩ blurb!

IN WHICH— fratboy! chris hits the jackpot and decides to take tomboy! reader shopping

| no warnings! enjoy <3

"i got bandssssss" chris announces, nonchalantly walking into your dorm, spreading a stack of hundred dollar bills on his arm

"hello to you too, christopher"

"lets go shopping, wanna spoil you" "its literally almost 11pm?" "and? i know these outlets that're opened till like 2am, its 30 minutes away, cmon ma?"

"chris im in pajamas and i already took my makeup off" you protest, watching him shake his head. "already told you you dont need that shit", you sigh, "give me 10 minutes to do my eyeliner and mascara?"

the boy rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the door. "chris! what the hell?!" "you look good like this ma. barefaced, in spiderman pajamas and uggs, prime y/n right here" you roll your eyes, "well its like 40 degrees out here, imma freeze to death" "relax will you? i have an extra jacket in the car"

minutes later, the 2 of you were on the way to the outlets, chris allowing you to have aux. "where'd you even get all that money from? like i know you make money selling, but never that much, not in less than a week at least" "oh yeah, there's more by the way" "WHAT?!?" "yeah, got this new shit and it's selling quickly" "i can tell..." you mumble, putting the sun visor down and opening the mirror

"EW! chris what the hell?! i look so ugly. i no joke look deceased, i NEED my makeup", you can practically hear chris' eyeroll, watching him shake his head in annoyance. "you're so dramatic. i think you look pretty" he mumbles that last part, ears turning red. you smile slightly, deciding to spare him by changing the topic. "so where's your jacket?" "behind your seat"

you reach back and see a black zip up, you grab it and quickly shrug it on, taking your uggs off to cross your legs on top of the seat. "if you were anyone else, i would literally kick you out" "awww, im special" you snicker, watching as he shakes his head, smiling nonetheless. the 2 of you fall into a comfortable silence, watching as cars pass by, that is until Open Arms by SZA comes on. you gasp dramatically, repeatedly hitting chris' arm

"what the fuck?!" "i LOVE this song!!" you turn the volume up to max, grabbing the boys phone and opening snapchat, recording yourself and chris singing along

"i hate myself to make you stay. push me away, i'll be right here" you sing, admiring chris through the screen, watching as his head bops along to the beat. "with open, open, open arms. open arms, you keep me open, im so devoted, you keep me open, open arms, im so devoted to you, to you, to you" you motion towards chris with your head, a big smile plastered on your face

"no matter what come between us, yeah, i decided, i'm forever riding, we forever guided" chris raps, stopping due to a red light. "drew my favorite color, now you seeing every shade of me" he quickly turns his head, clearly dedicating those lyrics to you. his mouth opens wide in surprise when he notices you were recording, "locked in for life, on God, no replacing me" you rap back, watching him hide his smile by turning back to face the road, stepping on the gas as the light turns green

the song soon ends, you stopping the video and saving it to his camera roll, sending it to yourself before closing his phone. "you really love sza, dontcha?" "hell yeah i do. she's like, one of my top 3 artists" the boy nods to your words, turning onto some street. 10 minutes later he turns into a parking lot. "we're here, ma"

you and chris exit his car, walking towards the stores. they were surprisingly not too empty, of course they weren't packed, but you could tell there was a good chunk of people at every store. "where to?" you mumble, slipping the hood of chris' jacket on. "they have a starbucks, so lets go there first, get something warm"

-

"what happened to something warm" you sarcastically ask, watching as chris sips his caramel frappuccino. "change of plans" he mumbles, watching as you sip on your macchiato. "come on, they got a lids somewhere"

you happily follow him, not a thought in your mind as you admire your surroundings. walking into the store, you notice it was fairly empty, no more than 7 people in there. "hey guys, need any help?" an employee asks, chris shaking his head no. "no thank you" you verbally say, offering a small smile. "alright, well if you do just let me know"

you slightly zone out after that, just staring at chris as he pick hats up and down. he does that for a while, finally settling on a light grey one with a light khaki visor. he nods his head and looks for another one, quickly finding it and calling out to you

"try this on, ma" you nod your head and take your hood off, popping the hat on. chris does the same with his hat and pulls his phone out, going to the camera app. "oh they're the same!" you exclaim, a big smile immediately forming on your face. chris quickly snaps a picture before putting his phone away, "yeah dummy, thats the point"

your mouth falls into an 'o' shape, realizing thats why he took a while to settle on a hat, he was searching for one that had your hat size. "stay here, imma go pay" he instructs, walking off to the register. he returns moments later, no hats in hand??

"had to embroid sum on them" he mumbles, grabbing your hand and leading you out the hat store and towards a bath and body works. "nicks been wanting some new candle that came out so imma go look for it. get whatever you want, dont matter how much" he says, going off towards the candles

you smirk slightly, grabbing a bag and getting to work. walking towards your go to scent, you grab 2 bottles of the fragrance mist, a bottle of lotion, and another bottle of body cream. you then go towards a thousand wishes, grabbing a body wash and a mini fragrance as you needed a restock. with a nod, you go find chris

you're quick to spot him, 3 candles in his grasp. "for nick," he shows you the pistachio honey milk candle, "for matt," mahogany coconut, "and for you, saw you were running low" you smile, your favorite candle being placed inside the bag alongside the others

"is this it?" the boy asks, slightly disappointed in how little you got. "i think so?" "you get that strawberry shit you like?" your eyes widen, how could you forget about your soap and hand sanitizer?!? you quickly run to get them before standing in line with chris

-

it was now 1:50am, 10 minutes before the outlets closed. you and chris loaded with shopping bags, he truly had spoiled you. you got 3 new pairs of jeans from levi's, some 2 pairs of jorts from gap, along with overall shorts, 3 or 4 shirts from h&m, a restock on your skin care items, the one size setting spray, another liquid eyeliner, elf lip oils, pimple patches, face masks, a pair of ugg minis in the color chestnut, some timberland boots, white crocs (with random jibits chris liked) the stuff from bath and body works and the hat; which had a small C♡ embroidered into it (his had your initial with a heart as well)

"i think you bought me too much stuff" you say, stuffing bags into the trunk and backseats. "not all of it is for you, i bought matt and nick stuff too" "yeah, but the majority of the stuff is mine.....i feel bad" "nonsense" he waves his hand, dismissing your statement like nothing. "now lets go get some food"

a/n: STOP THIS SUCKS but this is like my LONGEST draft, its been sitting in my drafts for a fat minute. feedback is appreciated :) i hope you enjoyed!

once again, dividers from @dollywons

[msbigredmachine]

Watched Royal Rumble 2025. My highlights/thoughts/opinions:

Not WWE giving us the worst no. 30 pairings in recent memory 😭

The final six for both Rumbles being predominantly white people was…a choice 🤨

Miss Ma’am having 14 world titles and walking right back in after 18 months to win ANOTHER Rumble is wild 🙄🙄🙄

Roxanne is beyond ready for the main roster. That girl just gets it.

Will WWE hold on long enough for a triple threat match at Mania between the Profits, DIY and MCMG

Cody’s entrance ring jackets stay IMMACULATE!

Dem boys pretty much killed each other 😭

Why was Sami there? 🤣

I will always be grateful to KO for constantly destroying his body for our entertainment.

At last, Cody went full Homelander, shed that good boy white meat BS and stood on business. Kevin wasn’t wrong but dude was playing in Cody’s face (kayfabe wise of course). Match of the night.

Bron Breakker is a psychopath, he killed Speed with that spear ❌❌❌

Roman coming in at no. 16 was hilarious. He probably wanted a 20+ number but Hunter said he needs to do SOME work tonight 😂

Love how all the heavy hitters came in after him. And yes, he did get jumped 🤣

I knew Braun was in there to eliminate Jacob!

Cena, Punk and Seth entering back to back was clutch af 💪🏾

The final 10 minutes were CRAZY! Roman and Seth hating each other so much that they forgot about winning the Rumble and just wanted to tear each other apart 😭

Punk eliminating them both is definitely foreshadowing 🤔

Seth stomping Roman’s head with TWO FEET, and then attacking Punk right afterwards, was wild!!! The hate is forever!

I was shocked when Punk got eliminated. All signs were pointing to him winning. He’s 100% calling in that favor from Paul and it’s going to be at Roman’s expense.

Logan Paul can piss off. He might be good in the ring but he’s a garbage human being. Cena had no business winning the match and I’m glad they didn’t go down that route.

What a journey Jey Uso has been on. 10+ years as the arguably less popular tag team guy, and now he’s about to beat (yep) Gunther at Wrestlemania for the world title is so crazy. Beyond happy for him.

The internet crying about him winning is funny. The man is literally the most popular wrestler on the roster, selling merchandise and making fans feel something in and out of the ring. The man who made the Bloodline story the success it is today and is the REAL story that’s meant to be finished (yep, I said it). Please, guys, pay attention to the product you claim to watch 🙄🙄🙄

Overall, this year’s Rumble wasn’t bad at all. The two matches were good, just didn’t like the ending for the women’s.

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.���

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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