#SO LIKE. IF EVEN HIDDEN AGENDA MADE IT ON A WEEKEND THEN I SEE NO REASON FOR THK NOT TO AIR ON RHE WEEKEND AS WELL

[andypantsx3]

LOADS OF FUN : TODOROKI x READER

SUMMARY: After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft (18+ only, minors please dni!), pro hero au, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, the shouto domesticity kink agenda goes absolutely crazy in this one lol (2.8k) NOTES: This piece is part of my pretty boy summer Shouto x Reader collab! Please go check out the other incredible fics people have written over the course of the summer; you will absolutely die over how good they are. This fic was also made possible through donations to the Fics for Gaza project. I cannot thank everyone who donated to one of the charities enough, as well as those who organized, reblogged, discussed, and got the word out. Lastly, I am so grateful for your immeasurable patience with me as I take time between fics to manage my workload, I hope I'm not too out of practice here lol. In summary: thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

The sound of the door opening was hidden in the thump and glug of the washing machine starting its spin cycle.

Halfway across the house, you were oblivious—you had the clean laundry spread out on the kitchen table, hunting through the pile trying to match one of Shouto’s socks to another that seemed to have vanished into that mysterious void which opens somewhere between the laundry basket and the dryer. One of his shirts was half-folded over your shoulder, abandoned in favor of the sock search.

The rest of your things were still mostly tangled together on the table, warm and fresh and cottony, the few shirts you’d already folded sagging off the kitchen chairs.

It still gave you a little thrill—even several weeks after you’d moved in together—to see Shouto’s things twined up with yours—his enormous socks dwarfing yours, your sweaters clinging to the occasional piece of his hero suit that hadn’t seen enough action to need his agency’s industrial cleaners.

It all added to your sense of satisfaction with your afternoon—a frosty weekend day you’d spent cozy indoors, moving slowly and leisurely through some chores. A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and your favorite playlist worked itself through in lazy loops. Shouto was due off his rotation soon, and you hummed contentedly to yourself, entertaining pleased little fantasies of curling up with him for the rest of the weekend.

Which of course is when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your hum sawed up into a strangled screech, and you whipped around, flailing. Shouto’s sock launched itself full force at the intruder before you even registered you’d thrown it. In your shock, your leg caught against the table and you went stumbling—

—right into a pair of warm hands that caught you about the waist.

Your hands were on the man’s shoulders to push him off before you realized you recognized the touch—and that you’d caught sight of a distinct mop of scarlet and white hair as you’d whipped around.

“Shouto! Again?” you scolded reflexively, even as your heartbeat stuttered out of its wild kick into high gear. You tipped your head back to stare your boyfriend in the face, shoulders slumping in relief, letting him take some of your weight.

Shouto peered down at you, that tiny scrunch between his brows that indicated concern. “Are you alright, love?”

Your heartbeat pounded thunderously in your chest. “I’m—fine. But my god we need to get you a bell. I almost peed.”

Shouto’s mouth shifted minutely into something that might not have registered in anyone else’s face but was most definitely a regretful downturn on his. He looked even more unfairly beautiful than when he’d left you this morning—a little flushed and windswept from the unseasonable cold, that full mouth pink and pretty.

Your mind flicked momentarily off and back on like a circuit breaker, the way it always did when you had to process Shouto.

You’d understood he was once-in-a-generation levels of beautiful before you’d even met him, his face staring up at you from the glossy pages of various tabloids over the years. But in person, even after years of knowing him and several more dating him, Shouto’s appearance still managed to cross all the wires in a person’s brain. His features were an incomprehensible blend of aloof and elegant, sensual and warm—like a cold masterpiece of a marble sculpture had suddenly found himself with a consciousness and human desires and miles of warm skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his voice low and warm. He sounded sincerely regretful.

You knew he hadn’t meant to—you’d long suspected his silent tread was habitually ingrained in him from years of hero work. And, in your most private and ungenerous thoughts, you suspected from years of making himself unobtrusive in his father’s home. The thought sat sour in your mouth, like a slice of pickled lemon.

You resisted making an equally sour face, shoving the thought away to make space for the reflexive flush of pleasure seeing Shouto always brought you.

“Welcome home, Sho,” you said instead, smiling up at him. Shouto’s hands moved on your waist, sliding gently beneath the hem of your tee-shirt to rest on the skin there.

He was still in his hero uniform, and as usual you felt a little goofy in comparison, in nothing but a tee and a well-loved pair of fraying sweatpants, which were this afternoon decorated with little flecks of soup from a brush with the pot.

But Shouto’s eyes were warm where they rested on you, and that perfect mouth crept back into a contented set. His long fingers smoothed over your skin as he watched you, thumb brushing your hip. He did not look like he found you at all goofy.

In fact, as his eyes dropped down to your ankles, slowly dragging back up to your face, you rather thought he looked a little appreciative. He even took a rather ungentlemanly step back, still holding you, to better take in the whole picture. His eyes wandered over the swell of your hip, the lines of the shirt against your chest, before darting to his own shirt, still folded over your shoulder.

His fingers flexed tellingly on your waist, and those heterochromatic eyes were both a little bit darker as they flicked back to yours.

His obvious regard made you feel warm. You shifted on your feet, shuffling.

“I was just—doing laundry,” you said for something to say, your mouth feeling kind of dry. Something about him always made you feel sort of shy and light-headed, even after all this time together. “And I made soup. I was thinking we could eat on the couch and watch one of those horrendous old All Might films?”

Shouto’s eyes darted to the stove, then beside you to the pile of your laundry, lingering for a long minute. His long lashes dipped, almost fluttering as his gaze traced over the tangle of your things together. His eyes flicked back to you. He was still for just a moment, watching you assessingly.

And then all of a sudden the world spun in front of your eyes. The hands at your waist lifted you clean off your feet, and you let out a startled “oof!” as you found yourself laid out in the pile of laundry on the table, sheets and sweaters bunching beneath you.

Shouto moved over you, stepping between your spread thighs, right at the edge of the table.

“You have no idea,” he intoned in a deep, delicious tone that went right down your spine, “what it is to come home to you like this.”

You wondered at that, feeling a strange combination of confusion and flattery, when Shouto’s mouth descended onto yours. His mouth was soft and sweet and insistent and absolutely perfect. The table groaned as he laid some of his weight out over you, pinning you into the laundry as he kissed you.

Your fingers clutched at him immediately, curling in his silky-soft hair, cupping his face to yours. One of Shouto’s own hands shifted to your thigh, holding you against him as he pressed himself harder into you.

You heard yourself making little gasps of appreciation as Shouto’s mouth moved down to your neck, laving hot kisses down your throat. You reveled in the feeling of him over you, broad and strong, his shoulders blocking the glow of the overhead light, casting shadows over you.

He’d been a lot like this lately, ever since you’d moved in together. He’d been adequately amorous before, of course, and blessed with a pro hero’s strength and unflagging stamina. But a few weeks after you’d moved in together you’d actually decided you needed to reactivate your gym membership given the amount of incredibly athletic sex you were suddenly having over almost every surface in the house.

One of the only spots yet to be touched was the table though, which Shouto seemed determined to rectify at this very moment.

He pulled back from you, his mouth flush from your kisses, looking a little entranced as he stepped out from between your thighs. You made a little noise at the loss of weight and heat over you, but Shouto caught the fabric of your sweatpants, gently but determinedly tugging them off of you. Your underwear was tossed right over one broad shoulder as Shouto went to his knees, and then his mouth was right back on you.

A wave of wild heat licked up your stomach at the noise of appreciation he made before sealing his mouth over you, strong fingers clutching your thighs to keep them apart.

“Oh my god!” you said, pleasure zinging right up your spine with the first lave of his tongue over you. “Shouto!”

Shouto let out a deep, pleased hum, two long fingers sinking into you embarrassingly easily as he worked your clit with his mouth. Your back arched and you could feel your clothing shift with you, Shouto’s shirt balling up under your shoulder blade, still half-draped over your shoulder.

“Oh, oh!” you heard yourself saying as your fingers twisted in the clothing, shuddering with every lick and suck of Shouto’s perfect, amazing, talented mouth.

He worked you with the expertise of long, dedicated practice—everything about him calculated to drive you insane. One moment he was excruciatingly soft, mouth slack and the touch of his tongue as fleeting and light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Then the next he was sucking relentlessly, teasing firmly with the tip of his tongue as his fingers played with you.

Your first climax hit you mortifyingly quickly, and Shouto seemed to know it before you did. His grip tightened on you, holding you down as you bucked against his mouth. Shouto looked more than a little smug as he got to his feet again, unbelting himself and laying back out over you.

He kissed you some more, the taste of yourself always a sort of shock to your system. But Shouto never seemed to mind, and if anything only seemed hungrier for you, mouth pulling at yours like he meant to devour you.

You felt the touch of his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up, then sank into you easily, groaning appreciatively like he’d just sunk into a hot bath. He bit carefully at your neck, one large hand pressing your stomach down to keep you pinned against the edge of the table where he wanted you.

“I always want to come home to you like this,” he intoned into the skin of your neck, his mouth sucking dizzying patterns into your skin. “Always.”

You could barely think past the slide of him inside you, thick and full and blissfully exquisite. He really was the most perfect man on earth, and he always felt like it too.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open to watch him, trying to catch his meaning in his face. Shouto watched you back, those blue and grey pinned on you like he couldn’t bear to look away from you as he moved inside you.

“You—” you panted out, trying to cling to the thoughts threatening to wiggle out of your grip. “What do you—? Of course you’ll always come home to me.”

Shouto bucked into you harder, the slap of his hip against the bottom of your thigh echoing loudly over the burble of soup on the stove. His eyelashes fluttered, mouth softening, and a realization struck you almost dizzy.

Oh, he really liked that.

You suppressed a wave of giddiness, charmed and helplessly pleased that he seemed to like the idea so much. Was that why he’d been so especially ardent this past month? Was it really because you’d moved in together?

Shouto’s arm hooked under one of your legs, drawing it up firmly over his shoulder so he could press even further inside of you. He looked so good like that that you nearly lost the thread of your thoughts, especially when his next thrust felt like that. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

“Ah!” escaped you. “Fuck, Shouto. Like that, please!”

Shouto’s thumb pressed down on your still-sensitive clit and he had to dig the fingers of his other hand into the flesh of your leg to keep you from bucking him right out of you with the way you squirmed. Sweet fucking gods he was unreal.

Shouto fucked you harder, the sound of your skin slapping together obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.

You tried again, struggling to watch his reaction with the way you wanted to throw your head back and babble nonsense instead.

“You’ll always come home to me,” you repeated, gratified when Shouto’s grip on you tightened, a soft sound escaping him. “You want me right here for you?”

“Ah—yes, love,” Shouto panted, staring down at you again. He looked like he knew what you were doing but didn’t care. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Just like this?” you prompted, trying not to slur the edges of your speech when he gave another particularly mind-bending thrust of his hips. His chest rose and fell heavily and he looked a little wild-eyed, gazing down at you.

“Like this, for me,” he said. “In my home, in our home—”

You could hear the table squeal and groan with the force of his next thrust, and then you had to grip the sides of it to steady yourself as he fucked you, looking blissful. Your nails scrabbled at the edges of the table, caught in between a million sensations—the glorious fullness of Shouto inside you, the gentle grind of his thumb against your clit, the way he looked all flushed and beautiful and panting and wanting—

You squeezed your eyes shut, too overcome with the sight of him to look at him anymore, but it was no use. Your entire body trembled as you came, and Shouto let out a low swear at the way you clenched up around him, hunching over you and pressing himself so impossibly hard against you as he came too.

He slumped down against you, weighing you into the soft-smelling cotton of the laundry you were now definitely going to have to rewash. You could feel his chest rise and fall as he panted, his breath tickling the skin under your ear. He left an unbearably soft, sweet kiss just under the lobe, at odds with the near-wild way he’d just been fucking you.

You warmed, petting through his hair with a helpless affection.

“Well now I know what time I should always do our laundry,” you said.

Shouto huffed into your neck, but you could feel a tiny smile curve his mouth.

“It is not just that,” he said, but did not elaborate for some minutes until you elbowed him gently. He peeled himself off of you just enough to look down into your face. “It is the thought of our life together. Our clothes piled together. You in the home we chose and we made…” he said, trailing off.

But you thought you got the sentiment. It was about how easy it was, how uncomplicated. A safe place to come home to, no expectations, just soup and a pile of sweet-smelling laundry and someone happy to see you. It was something far away from what he'd grown up thinking a home was, possibly something he’d thought he’d never have—something you were determined to make him realize now that he always would.

You let your fingers pull through his hair again, smiling up at him. “I am going to have to do our laundry again, though,” you teased. “In case that interests you.”

And despite what he’d just said, Shouto did in fact look a little too interested. You watched his mismatched gaze trail over to the closet that opened onto the washer and dryer. A contemplative look snuck across his handsome face, carefully curling the corner of that plush mouth.

“There is another place we have not yet broken in,” he said slowly, voice dipping low. He looked down at you with an earnest expression completely in contrast to what he was suggesting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and that was all the permission he needed to pull you up, gathering you up in his arms and layering a fat handful of laundry on top of you. His belt buckle rattled loosely beneath you where he'd barely done it up in his haste, and you laughed harder when he turned off the stove as you passed it.

Though it turned out to be a needed precaution—as neither of you found yourselves free to sit down to dinner for several hours yet.

[airenyah]

MANIFESTING NOV 2ND AS THE AIR DATE FOR EP1 AND A BTS-SPECIAL ON OCT 26TH SO THAT THE TWO OF US ARE STILL AT LEAST SOMEWHAT RIGHT 🙏🏻✨🙏🏻✨🙏🏻✨🙏🏻✨

Yesterday I really hoped THK will start airing from 26th October and will get a Saturday slot. My heart is a bit sad 💔 now 🤧

@airenyah and i are in the same boat because we have been putting all of our powers into manifesting october 26th as the airdate for the first episode

but yeah ig we might not get the first ep on october 26th but i am still convinced that thk is going to get the saturday slot. we're just going to have to be patient for a little bit longer and technically it could start airing as soon as november 2nd soooo that's almost good news, right 🥺???

[nicarnelian]

weekends at the library, with and for you.

₊˚⊹ featuring: umemiya hajime x gn! reader

₊˚⊹ summary: during weekends at exactly ten in the morning, umemiya would visit the public library. he always had two specific agendas: one, to read and two, to adore you from afar — sitting so prettily as you have stuffed your face in another book.

₊˚⊹ word count: 1.07k

₊˚⊹ warnings: grammar errors ;-;

₊˚⊹ author’s note: i have a love and hate rs w the midnight library pls dont come at me :((

it was part of umemiya’s routine to spend his hours reading in the public library every weekend at precisely ten in the morning. dressed in his white shirt with a tiger print paired with casual black pants, umemiya entered the library and settled on his usual spot — the end of a shared study table in the middle of the room. he put down his bag and took out a book he’s been reading since yesterday.

but, there was a particular reason why umemiya does all of these activities — going to the library at 10 and sitting at the middle table. diagonally across from him on the same study table was a sight he had grown familiar with over the past few weeks. there you were, face stuffed in another penguin classics book.

although, most of your face was hidden by the book, he could see your eyebrows peeking out when you frowned at what you were reading. umemiya lightly chuckled at how cute you looked whenever you did that.

he admired you from afar — eyes casually glancing from his book towards your direction. he found his gaze always following you whenever you entered the library and whenever you left the library. it’s scary, he thinks. the way you had ensnared him in this never-ending spiral of infatuation frightened him.

he had spent weeks trying to align his schedule with yours, attempting to make a single move, but every one of his efforts seemed to go to waste. because, the moment he stood within a meter of you, his brain malfunctions — and he found himself at a loss for what to do.

as umemiya heaved another sigh, not particularly due to the book he was reading, but due to the numerous attempts he had in his mind that he cannot seem to execute when faced with you. his hand involuntarily tousled his hair, untidying his white locks.

the top of bofurin was perplexed by his current situation. and for sure, if the four kings or even his juniors had seen him like this — almost helpless with how his thoughts scattered when you were near, they would certainly tease him.

he snapped out of his daze, hearing you rise from your chair and move towards the bookshelves, treading carefully to not disturb the other people in the room. his gaze still followed you, watching you reach for another book, read its synopsis, flip through a couple of its pages, and repeat. you were clearly having a book dilemma as of the moment.

and, that was the perfect time to make his first move.

umemiya smirked to himself, cautiously approaching you. it was the first time his mind felt so clear. at the same time, the both of you reached the exact, same book, the midnight library.

it was so cliché — the entire scene unfolding, the tip of your fingers grazing one another’s, his warmth beside you, his shoulders lightly brushing against yours. but, despite its cliché nature, it made your stomach flip. likewise happened with umemiya, due to being taller, you had yet to notice that beads of sweat had formed on his forehead or his rapidly thumping heart.

the white-haired boy glanced at you, “ah! i’m sorry…”

“it’s fine. are you going to take it?” they talked… to me! umemiya was going crazy. his weeks of planning were paying off. he couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity!

“ah! this book… i’ve read it before! it’s pretty decent yet enjoyable!” he praised, as he let you hold the book for a couple of minutes. you stared at the blue covering of the piece of literature in your hands.

“is that so… then, maybe i should add it in my to-be-read list,” you said, flipping through a couple of the book’s pages, skimming through its content. you smiled at him and umemiya felt glad, enthused even.

“thank you for this,” you added the book to the pile of two others in your hand. umemiya extended his hands towards you, exclaiming, “let me hold it for you!”

you stiffened at his offer and giggled, “there’s no need! i can handle this much.” it was only three books, they weren’t particularly heavy to carry. besides, you didn’t want to burden other people. “i know… but, i just want to,” he mumbled under his breath.

he got you, alright; you let him hold your books until it piles up to five in his hands.

neither of you noticed how quickly time flew as you chatted, exchanging conversations through hushed tones actually for more than an hour with book recommendations, hot takes, and such. being with him was better than expected, you admit to yourself.

but, what umemiya did not know was that you had already read the midnight library — a couple of times even since you didn’t like it and tried to get into it again and again. the moment he first saw you, you immediately felt his eyes locked upon you wherever you turned and whichever book you picked up to read. it was as if umemiya’s world revolved around you and this library — and that cozy feeling was something umemiya loved.

it was, at first, obviously weird to think that someone had always kept their eyes on you. but, his gaze was not that of obsession, but rather of fondness. after weeks of your schedules "coincidentally" overlapping, you were informed that he was bofurin’s leader. you had watched him save people countless times, helped others in need, whether they were elders or youngsters — he was a knight in shining armor indeed, as they say.

you pondered, maybe you were the mastermind because you had always hoped he would make the first move, and he did. but, maybe you were also the fool, because you had to reread a book you particularly did not like.

nevertheless, it didn’t really matter whether you had to reread such a story once again. all that matters was your budding relationship with bofurin’s leader, who happened to be a bookworm like you.

talk about being the ideal guy. you smiled, as you looked at umemiya who enthusiastically talked about his other book recommendations. and, before you knew it, umemiya finally sat on the empty space beside you in the shared table the following weekend.

[munsonluhvr]

HOW TO FAKE IT (MINI SERIES) (PART 2)

contents: the weekend trip to the cabin has arrived and Tina has an agenda planned to challenge you and Steve's 'relationship'... word count - 6k

notes: fully believe this is not my best work; I had a ton of homework that had me distracted so those who are reading chapter - please come back for part 3 I promise it's going to be much better lol.

installments: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

taglist: @frostandflamesfanfic

It surprised you how easy it was to convince your parents to let you go to the Cunningham’s family cabin; word had got back to your parents that you and Steve made your debut as a couple at the party several days ago. To say the least, they were thrilled. 

Your parents have always loved Steve, finding him the most trustworthy male in Hawkins to be close friends with their daughter. On multiple occasions they had suggested you and Steve should date but you always shook your head, grimacing at the idea. Now they finally have their wish. 

You stand on the side of your bed, folding your pants into your duffle bag. Your mom sits on the bed beside you, folding your few shirts into your duffle bag as well. “Do we need to have the talk?” Your mom asks, glancing over at you. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, we aren’t those religious people who think sex is bad, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to-.“ 

“Mom,” you say, interrupting her. “I don’t need to have the talk; I took physical education class.” 

Your mom laughs softly, shaking her head. “Just be safe.” 

A few hours later you stand on your porch, duffle bag in hand, waiting to see Steve pull up. The Cunningham’s cabin is two hours away, up north in Indiana. The cabin, according to Steve, is on a lake, in a small resort area. You wonder to yourself how many people will show up and how vicious Tina plans on being. Your head already aches and you haven’t even left yet. 

Moments later, Steve’s car pulls up, the passenger window already rolled down. “There’s my gorgeous girlfriend,” Steve yells, his signature sunglasses covering the top half of his face. 

You wince. “Don’t yell like that,” you call back. “I don’t want the neighbors to hear.” 

Steve puts a hand on his chest. “Ashamed of being seen with me already?” 

You give Steve a fake smile, opening the car door. You get in, shoving your bag in the back seat. “If I was ashamed I wouldn’t be sending my ass up a river to stay at Chrissy Cunningham’s cabin, with Tina there, for you.” 

Steve presses the gas, sending the car lurching forward. “And that is why you are the ultimate best friend.” 

You hum, strapping your seatbelt on across your chest. “What would you do without me?” 

The two hours it takes to get to the cabin flies by quickly due to Steve insisting on developing a detailed game plan for the weekend. 

“We need to make it believable but also leave from for Tina to get jealous.” Steve says, glancing over at you. Beside him, you’re in the passenger seat watching Indiana farms pass by.

“I feel like we’re doing a pretty good job doing that so far; Tina looked like she wanted to kill me when she invited us to the cabin.” 

Steve laughs. “She really does not like you, and she’s never been afraid to show that.” 

“No, she hasn’t and that’s the best part of this arrangement. Dating your best friend who Tina was always threatened by to make her jealous? Brilliant.” You say, glancing at Steve. A strand of his hair dangles on Steve’s forehead, the sun streaming into the car window and dancing across his freckled face, illuminating his soft features. 

Steve changes the subject briefly, noticing how he’s passing several exits on the highway. “Look at the map really quick, I want to make sure we’re going in the right direction.” 

 Eventually, you make it to the Cunningham’s cabin, multiple cars already parked on the gravel driveway. The cabin is set back, hidden from the road by rows of tall, bushy trees. The house is big, a classic cabin style, the largest house on the street. Even from the end of the driveway, you can see the blue water of the lake that outstretches for miles behind the cabin. 

As Steve pulls in, you notice several people lingering at the side of the house: your housemates for the weekend. When Steve parks, retrieving yours and his bags from the back seat, Tina saunters over, greeting only Steve. Casually, as if she and Steve never broke up, Tina throws her arms around Steve. “I’m so glad you made it,” Tina says, playing into her innocent act. While she hugs Steve, she looks over his shoulder, staring you right in the face. You offer a small, innocent smile. It’s only two days you have to be here, you remind yourself. 

After greeting Tina and the others who are spending at the weekend too, Chrissy, Jason, and some of the basketball players with their girlfriends, you make it into the side entrance of the house. 

“Nice place, Cunningham.” Steve says, taking his sunglasses off to look around the house. The inside of the house is grand, large wood furniture stretching towards the ceiling. The entrance leads directly into the kitchen, showcasing large, shiny kitchen appliances that sit on the island that’s settled in the middle of the room. It’s a beautiful home, you hate to admit. 

“Your room is over here,” Chrissy says, Tina close behind her, as they guide you and Steve to a room on the first floor. Down a short hallway, you crowd around the entrance of the bedroom. You peer in, seeing a single bed placed under a window. “You and y/n can stay in here.” Chrissy says to Steve.

You swallow hard, letting your eyes look around the room. There is a dresser in the corner, a small, plush chair adjacent to the bed. Everything starts to connect: you and Steve are expected to share a bed. 

You glance at Steve who’s already looking at you. He offers you a half-hearted smile, realizing the same thing. “This is great, we’ll put out stuff away and meet up with you guys in a second.” 

Chrissy leaves promptly but Tina lingers, analyzing you and Steve as you stand in the bedroom. After a second, she leaves. 

“Don’t worry, I can sleep on the floor, and you can have the bed.” Steve whispers to you, unzipping his bag to unpack his things. “They’ll never know.” 

You stay silent, unzipping your bag too, beginning to unpack your own clothes. For the first time you feel concerned, questioning if you can pull this fake dating scheme off with success. Steve, sensing your hesitation, comes behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. He squeezes lightly. “We got this.”

Minutes later, you’re back in the Cunningham’s enormous kitchen, Steve retrieving a beer from the fridge and handing it to you. The other house guests are scattered across the kitchen and backyard, mingling together. Steve slings an arm over your shoulder, guiding you to a chair that’s adjacent to the kitchen, just over the kitchen’s boarder into the dining room. Swiftly, Steve pulls you back onto his lap again, the end of his chilled beer resting on your leg. You loop an arm around his shoulders, your legs dangling off the side of Steve’s legs. You both sit together, watching the small group mingle around the kitchen. 

In the days between the party and earlier today when you left Hawkins for the cabin, you had some time to think. You had begun to notice how your body physically reacts to Steve’s touch, the way your mind whirls every time a new set of eyes rest on you and Steve. You have this feeling again now, just as Steve plays his part as a loving boyfriend by placing a kiss on your jaw. You smile, glancing at him briefly. 

At first you just attributed to the mindset that you had engrossed yourself with dedication and devotion. You were pretending to be Steve’s girlfriend, convincing Hawkins High that you and he have been together for months, just secretly. Steve was also committed to making your false relationship believable, always attentive with calling you sweet nicknames, gazing at you lovingly when he introduced you to his other friends, or letting his fingertips drag across your skin. Every time it made your mind buzz, enough to make you wonder why you are feeling such ways.

The next phase of denial you enter is just attributing all your feelings to being so close to Steve. You have been best friends for as long as you can remember, always tied to each other’s hip. You had inside jokes, nicknames for each other, a permanent spot at each other’s family dinner table. You were each other’s dates to dances, you never had to ask, you just knew Steve would show up at your front step in a tux. You knew each other so well. When Steve started having girlfriends started to the mix, you never felt displaced. Steve went through girls constantly, as if there was a never-ending revolving door of them; yet each one respected you and Steve’s friendship and made sure to always make space for you. That is, of course, until Tina. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when a shrill voice echoes across the kitchen. “Steve, you’re the tallest one here, can you lend me some help?” Tina’s voice says from around the corner.

Steve taps your legs, signaling for you to move. You stand up, allowing Steve to get up from his seat. He hands you his beer, moving across the kitchen to help Tina. “I’ll be right back,” Steve says to you with a smile. Steve leaves you alone, and as you sit back in the sofa chair, you miss the subtle warmth of Steve underneath you. 

After a few minutes, Steve hasn’t come back and you stand up, feeling the need to socialize and not sit alone in the corner. You weave through Chrissy and Jason who stand on one side of the kitchen island. Some basketball players, and their girlfriends, stand on the other side of the island. “Nice of you to join us, y/n.” Jason says, glancing at you as you walk by. 

You smile meekly. “What are you all up to?” 

“Actually,” Jason says, leaning on the countertop. “We were wondering about how you and Steve started dating.” 

“Oh, you know.” you say, simply. “Best friends that finally acknowledged they liked each other; no story really.” 

The group laughs, eyeing you curiously. The chatter continues around you, leaving you to listen to the back and forth. Down the hallway, however, you hear a set of laughs that takes your attention away. In the reflection of the class doors that lead to the driveway, you see Steve and Tina leaning against the banister of the stairs. Steve reaches out, pawing at Tina’s arm, a simple touch of affection. A pang of jealousy hits you and you’re startled by the feeling. The reality of the game you play with Steve washes over you again as you watch him and Tina flirt, knowing there’s nothing you can do about it because that’s the whole point of you and Steve dating in the first place – getting Tina back.

For the first time, you consider how Steve and Tina’s subtle, but not really, flirting is perceived by the other houseguests. As Steve has attempts to make Tina jealous, allowing himself to flirt with her or let her eye’s linger on him, did everyone really think you were stupid enough to not notice? What you hadn’t signed up for when Steve asked you to fake date him is to look like a fool and you hated to think that Steve’s actions were making you seem like a dumb, oblivious, person and girlfriend. And that thought really pissed you off. 

“Let’s play a game.” Tina says, clasping her hands together. The group eight of sit around the living room, you and Steve sitting next to each other on the large, retro couch. His arm is around your shoulder, and you squirm underneath his touch. Across the living room, Chrissy sits on a loveseat, Tina and the rest of the group scattered around the floor. You couldn’t get your mind to stop thinking about Steve in the hallway with Tina. 

Jason laughs, a beer in his hand, as he seats himself next to Chrissy. “A little childish, Tina, don’t you think?” 

Tina shakes her head. “Not at all, we need a little fun. Let’s keep it simple; truth or dare.”

“Sounds fun,” Tina’s boyfriend says supportively. 

Tina offers a smile to her partner, appreciating his support. “Great, I’ll start – someone ask me.” 

“Okay, truth or dare, Tina?” Chrissy asks, leaning over to look across the room to Tina. 

“Truth,” Tina says. You have the urge to roll your eyes, but you suppress it, watching as the game begins to unfold in front of you. Instead, your clasp your hands together, squeezing your palms together.

“What is the worst mistake you’ve made?” Chrissy says after contemplating for a minute. 

Tina looks across the room at Steve, her eyes lingering on him for just a minute. You know she wants to say it’s breaking up with Steve. To some extent, the plan of fake dating Steve is working, Tina showing her jealousy and curiosity about you and Steve’s relationship; so, you should be happy. But you feel an unsettling feeling, one that makes you feel confused about everything happening around you. 

After a second, Tina takes her eyes off of Steve and looks back at Chrissy. “Definitely getting that haircut sophomore year; it was such a popular hairstyle and as soon as I got it, it went out of style.” Everyone is the room laughs, including Steve, and you smile half-heartedly. “Okay, who’s next? How about you, Steve?” 

“All right, I’ll give it a go.” Steve says, his body leaning into you more. From his movements, you smell his cologne radiating off of him, the familiar smell offering some comfort. 

“Truth or dare?” Tina asks, cocking her head to the side.

You don’t know if you want Steve to pick truth or dare: both could be dangerous options.    

“Dare.” 

Tina smiles, her eyes settling on you. “Kiss y/n; I don’t think any of have seen you guy kiss yet.” 

Your body freezes, every muscle becoming rigid. You’re terrified for a lot of reasons: one reason is because you have never kissed anyone before which is a truth not even Steve knows. The second reason is that you’re about to be forced to kiss Steve, your best friend, and you have no idea how you feel about that. 

“Yeah, Harrington, give your girl a kiss. No need to be conservative here, we’re all friends.” Jason says, gesturing towards where you and Steve sit with his hand that grips his beer bottle. 

“Is that really necessary? We just aren’t big participants in PDA.” Steve says, laughing nervously. 

“Now’s your chance.” Tina says, her eyes landing on you. 

Steve angles his body towards you, you wonder if you feel his hands tremble. You angle your body towards him as well, your knees touching. Steve looks at you, his eyes going to your lips. You’re really about to kiss Steve – in front of everyone. 

Steve scoots closer to you, his hand reaching out, his hand cupping your face. His fingertips brush your face, your skin buzzing at the sensation. Your muscles go from rigid to limp, your head becoming lightheaded. Before Steve leans in, he gazes at you briefly, letting his thumb brush your cheekbone. Then, he leans in, and you follow his lead, leaning in to let your lips meet his. 

You thought it’d be a short kiss, just a small peck, but it’s anything but. Steve’s mouth moves rhythmically in yours, the feeling of his plush lips against yours causing a small tornado to brew in your stomach. The smell of Steve’s cologne that was comforting a few seconds ago was now overwhelming to you, numbing the surrounding environment – the people that watch you. Steve’s lips are sweet, the beer tinting the flavor of his mouth. 

It feels like you have been kissing Steve for hours, though it most likely was only a few seconds. You pull away, breaking you and Steve’s point of contact. He leans in further, following your mouth as you pull away, but Steve realizes what he’s doing and backs away.

 Steve clears his throat, leaning back on the couch. “See, we kiss,” Steve says. Similar to you, Steve’s mind draws blank after blank, his mind whirling with a set of emotions that confuse him. He finds himself enjoying sharing a kiss with you, noticing how his mouth followed you as you pulled away. He hopes you didn’t notice that. 

You look at the small group of faces that watched you, small smiles on their mouths. Tina, however, has her arms crossed, her lips puckered with discontent. 

“I felt like we should have given you privacy, that was intense.” Jason says, laughing. “What else do you guys do in private?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “All right, All right, let’s move on.”

“Y/n, your turn.” Tina says, adjusting in her seat. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” you say, not wanting to see what type of dare Tina would have in store for you. Turns out, though, that her truths are far much worse then any dare. 

“Did you and Steve get together right after he and I broke up? I mean you were his best friend and around us all the time. Were you just hoping we’d break up so you can have him all to yourself?” Tina asks. The room goes silent. 

You sigh, knowing this was waiting for you all along. “Of course not, Tina. We got together after you and Steve had broken up and it was clear you were getting back together.” 

Tina hums, crossing her arms across her chest. “For some reason, I just don’t believe that. It’s such a coincidence that two best friends got together so close after a breakup – I mean surely he was still thinking about me when he together with you.” Tina says, glancing at Steve. “Are you sure you’re not a rebound?” 

“Tina-“ Steve says, but you hold up your hand, ready to meet Tina.

“I just don’t get why you care so much, Tina? Aren’t you the one that broke up with Steve to immediately date someone else? Are you sure that’s just a coincidence or were you plotting that while you were still dating Steve?” You say, knowing you questioning Tina, in front of her closest friends, was getting dangerously close to her most vicious point. 

Tina laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, y/n. You sit there with Steve acting so innocent like the perfect little girlfriend, but little do you know everything Steve does for you know, I taught him. He probably still calls out my name during sex.” 

You jaw clenches, the sounds of people snickering fill the silence in the room. Steve is still, completely motionless beside you, listening to you handle your own against Tina. He feels sick, his stomach twisted is regret. Steve thinks about how he never should have gotten you involved in this.  “I think you give yourself too much credit, Tina, Steve has most certainly moved on.” 

“All right you two, that was definitely more than one question, Tina.” Jason says, interrupting you and Tina. You let your back relax against the couch, feeling the heat in the room creep inside of you. 

Steve puts his arm around your shoulders, acknowledging the tough situation Tina had just put you through. He squeezes your shoulder. Watching Tina attempt to embarrass you, in front of everyone, made Steve question what he was doing attempting to get Tina back in his life. He knew Tina’s personality is bland, her only joy in life coming from tearing other people down - for what? Suddenly, loses his motivation to get Tina back – he just wants to take you and he home. 

“Let’s go,” Steve whispers to you, beginning to stand up off the couch. He reaches out, grabbing your hand in his. “We’re going to hit the hay early tonight; we’ll see you in the morning.” Steve says to the rest of the group. Everyone mumbles goodnight, their eyes watching you and Steve move out of the room. They pick back up where they started, Chrissy up next to pick truth or dare. 

“Steve don’t sleep on the floor. Just get in the bed.” You say, listening to Steve whimper as he lays himself on the hardwood floor. You hear him pause. “Really? It’s so uncomfortable down here.” He says, leaning up to look at you on the bed. 

You nod. “Just don’t touch me, we aren’t that close.”

Steve laughs, placing his pillow on the bed next to yours. You move yourself back, letting Steve maneuver himself into the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, his warm body laying close to yours. For a few minutes you lay in silence, watching the darkness stream through the shades of the window. Shadows dance across the ceiling, your eyes watching as you listen to the crickets that chirp in the dark of the night outside. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, breaking the dark silence. His arm brushes against yours. “Tina was vicious today and I didn’t stop it.” You shake your head, looking at Steve from the corner of your eye. “Don’t apologize, I knew she some sort of plan against me.” 

“Still,” Steve says, meeting your eye contact. Steve’s glance turns into a gaze, holding your eye contact. In your stomach, you feel a flutter. If someone told you Steve would be the one to check things off your boxes – giving you your first kiss or sharing a bed with a boy; you’re sure you would have told them they were out of their mind. You break your eye contact, looking back at the ceiling. 

Beside you, Steve lets his long fingers slither against the back of your hand, picking yours up to rest against his. Steve outstretches your hand, comparing the size of it to his large hand that dwarfs yours. “You’re so small and delicate.” 

You laugh, looking over at yours and his hands. “You’re just noticing our size difference now?”

Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, enveloping yours hand with his. He squeezes your hand gently. “Fake dating you has allowed me to realize things about you I ignored when we were just best friends.” 

“Don’t get soft on me, Steve.” You say, although the flutter in your stomach grows more intense. 

Only one day left. 

The day at the Cunningham’s cabin starts bright and early; Jason bangs on you and Steve’s bedroom door, jolting you out of Steve arms, which is wrapped around you, holding you against his body. You and Steve glance at each other, mutually agreeing not to speculate how you both ended sleeping in such a position. 

“Steve and y/n, up and at em’ lovebirds! Meet us by the water in five.” Jason yells, the sound of his voice pounding in your head. It’s too early to yell. 

Quickly, you and Steve throw on lake appropriate outfits, turning each other’s back to one another, providing as much privacy as you can, considering the circumstance. 

You’re halfway out the back door of the house when Steve grasps your forearm. “Hand,” Steve holds his hand out to you. “Gotta make it believable, babe,” Steve says, overemphasizing the nickname. You smile, taking his hand, though you have a funny feeling inside of you – something you can’t put your finger on.

“There they are!” Chrissy says, extending her arms over her head. Chrissy’s feet were already in the water, Jason beside her. Tina glances at you, offering a fake smile, though she trains her eyesight is aimed at you and Steve’s hands that are intertwined. 

“Here we are,” Steve says almost unenthusiastically. You can tell his socialization level is beginning to bottom out. 

“Drinks are over there,” Jason says, pointing towards a cooler several feet away. “We’re thinking of playing volleyball and swimming. I’ll get the floats out of the basement later.” 

Steve looks over at you. “Volleyball or swimming?” 

You shake your head. “I think I’ll just sit for now.” 

Steve frowns, but nods, letting go of your hand. “Okay, I’ll sit with you-“ As Steve speaks, Jason calls his name. “Steve, come play a round of volleyball with us.” You look towards Jason, seeing Tina, Tina’s boyfriend, and Jason stand on the volleyball court. “We need a fourth.”

Steve looks over at you. You smile, gesturing towards where Jason. “Go, I’ll be fine.” Steve nods, his eyes lingering on yours, before he jogs away towards the volleyball court. 

You continue towards the beach chairs, noticing Chrissy is already sitting in one. “May I join you?” you ask, sitting down in the chair beside her. 

“Not a fan of volleyball?” Chrissy asks, looking over at you. 

“Not a fan of anything physical,” you say, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. The lake has rough sand, but you let your bare feet dig into it. 

Chrissy laughs. “I feel the same way, I always get lightheaded. My exercise is cheer and that’s about it.” 

You smile, glancing at Chrissy. You never truly interacted with Chrissy, her crowd is much different than yours, the two groups never interacting. You had heard good things about her, always kind and sweet to everyone. You always wondered if she was as fake as Tina, considering they were close friends, but you find the rumors are true – she’s incredibly kind. 

You’re about to respond to Chrissy but cheers from the opposite direction pull your attention away and towards the sound. You watch as Steve and Tina, who are on the same side of the volleyball net, high-five, Tina squealing with excitement. You lean back against the webbed beach chair with a soft huff. 

“That’s got to be tough,” Chrissy says. “Tina is trying too hard to be friendly with Steve post breakup. I told her to leave you two alone, but she won’t listen.”

You toss an uneasy smile at Chrissy, opting to look directly in front of you at the lake. “Oh, it’s okay. I’m not worried.” 

Chrissy cocks her head to the side, not believing a word you say. “Your face says otherwise. I’m sure she’ll get bored, I mean she has to, Steve is so into you.” 

You frown, whipping your head to Chrissy. “W-What?” 

Chrissy turns away from you, positing herself to look straight ahead, her arms dangling off the arms of the chair. She, too, outstretches her legs in front of herself, her legs seemingly going on for miles. “The way he looks at you, it’s so obvious.” 

You swallow, digesting what Chrissy is telling you. Steve? The way he looks at you? Chrissy must be wrong, any look that Steve gives you is purely because you’ve been friends for what feels like decades, and you might as well be the same person – Siamese twins even. 

You’re silent for a long time, the noise of other neighbors coming out from their house to be lake go-ers for the day filling the silence.  Your mind is in a whirl as you’re deep in thought, thinking about Chrissy’s comment, and you jolt when Chrissy places her hand on your forearm. “Come on, let’s go into the water.” 

The lake behind Chrissy’s house is huge, from where you stand you can see the houses that peek out from the trees around the lake. The lake must be miles and miles long, boats saunter across the water, those who occupy them dancing to the radio together. Though the lake is only accessible to those who own a house, the lake is big enough, and deep enough, to need a lifeguard. A very cute lifeguard in fact. 

You and Chrissy stand knee deep in the lukewarm lake water, watching small fish swim between your legs. You chat with Chrissy, finding out that she’s much more easy going then you thought she’d be. The day has passed by quickly, the morning turning into the afternoon with little transition. After a little swimming, you and Chrissy begin to walk down the length of the Cunningham’s property, the edge of her home right where the lifeguard stand is.

A whistle blows, the sound cracking, signaling the whistle should be retired soon, interrupting you and Chrissy’s conversation. “Ladies, looking that good is certainly a swimming hazard. Back on the shore, please.” You and Chrissy look at each other, giggling at the lifeguards comment. 

The lifeguard is beautiful; his torso is bare showcasing his toned upper half and strong muscles. He has dark hair, his short locks framing his face perfectly. Freckles are dashed across his face, a boyish smile on his mouth. He moves, with ease, down from his stand, making his way over to where you and Chrissy stand, only a few inches from the shore. 

“I’m Blake,” Blake, the lifeguard says. “And you two are?”

“I’m Chrissy,” Chrissy says, clasping her hands in front of her. “And this is y/n.” 

Blake looks at you, his eyes lingering. “Y/n, you’re awfully beautiful.” 

You smile, your face flushing at the compliment. “Thank you, Blake.” 

“Chrissy!” Jason yells from far away, their volleyball game concluding a bit ago. “I need your help getting the floats from the basement!” Chrissy glances between you and Blake, then jogs off towards the shore, leaving you and Blake alone. You should have realized how not mentioning to Blake that you had a boyfriend, Steve, might look to Chrissy but in the moment you didn’t care. Why couldn’t you have a little fun on this god forsaken trip? 

“Just here for the weekend?” Blake asks, bringing you back into the conversation. 

You nod, softly crossing your arms in front of your scantily clad chest. “Yeah, with some friends.” 

Blake nods, his eyes grazing down your body. “That’s too bad, the hot ones always have to leave.” 

Later, you’ll realize that Blake is not your type, and how his gives player vibes, but in the moment, you just want to have fun leaving the ideas that Steve looks at you a certain way or the weird flutter you felt last night as you laid with behind you. 

You just want a distraction from it all.

Where you stand with Blake, you have no idea that Steve is watching. Steve is perplexed on what to do as he’s blinded with raging emotions. He’s pissed; the tall, gorgeous lifeguard standing beside you, his eyes taking every inch of your bare skin. For a moment, Steve doesn’t even consider what everyone else who’s staying at Chrissy’s cabin thinks as they glance with curiosity at this stranger interacting with you, Steve’s girlfriend. Steve wants to do nothing more than punch the lights out of this guy, bruising his eyes that visually violate you. Steve watches for a few minutes, you laugh, you reach out touching this lifeguard’s arm. Steve can’t take it any longer when you turn around and the lifeguard looks right at your ass, shamelessly. 

Steve stalks over to you and Blake, his feet moving him quick. “Y/n!” Steve calls, making it over to you and the male in seconds. “There you are babe; I’ve been calling you.” Nonchalantly, Steve places his arm over your shoulder, interrupting you and Blake’s conversation. Steve offers Blake an innocent yet threatening smile as he nudges you along. You squeak as Steve begins to rush you away. You don’t even get to say bye to Blake. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve whispers to you when you’re far away from Blake, guiding you away from the water. “Flirting with that asshole in front of everyone, you’re supposed to be my girlfriend, remember?” 

You’re pissed too, Steve ruining your only chance to experience joy on this trip. “Sorry, I’m just trying to have a little fun. You can flirt with Tina all day long, in front of everyone, but I can’t flirt with some random lifeguard?” 

Steve snorts, his grip tightening around your shoulder. “I’m not flirting with Tina; I was just playing volleyball with her. You heard Jason, they needed a fourth player!”

You hum, attempting to shrug your Steve’s arm off your shoulder. “This sucks Steve, this has gone far beyond just getting Tina back. She has it out for me, last night was proof, and I’m just looking like a stupid, oblivious girlfriend as you sneak around with Tina, and I’m just supposed to not notice?” 

Steve hustles you past the group of teens that surround the firepit in the middle of the backyard, bringing the beach chairs from the lake and onto the grass. They all stare, your argument moving from whispers to loud enough that they can catch glimpses of your argument. 

“Keep your voice down,” Steve says. Steve moves you onto the porch, opening the sliding glass and pushing you into the kitchen. “You’re going to blow our cover.”

Outside, the day begins to dim, the sky turning a dark blue color. The little bit of light outside illuminates the room enough for you and Steve to maneuver around the kitchen island. “You already did that Steve! By flirting with Tina so carelessly. You want to flirt with Tina? Fine. But you don’t have to do it in front of everyone and make me look stupid.” You march into yours and Steve’s designated bedroom, passing him on one side of the island in the process. Steve follows you. 

“Y/n,” Steve says with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay?” 

You’re covered in lake water, the dry feeling that clings to your body makes you know that you should shower before getting into bed, but there’s no place you’d rather be then under the sheets. You lift the bedsheets up, climb into the bed. “I don’t care, Steve, Whatever, it’s fine.” 

Steve stands in the doorway, watching you turn into a lump under the sheets. Although you’re arguing, he finds himself smiling. “I mean it, I’m sorry.” 

“I mean it, I don’t care. Just go back out to the party and your beloved Tina.” 

Steve is amused but mostly frustrated - for two reasons. For one, wasn’t this the whole point? Making Tina jealous so she’d come back to him? Maybe you had a point about making you look stupid, but he thought you and he were on the same page, understanding the same game plan of Tina becoming his girlfriend again so you two didn’t have to fake dating. Second, Steve hated it when you and he fight. You never did – the last time was when you were 14 and Steve had seen a movie with his friend when he said he’d see it with you first (you were pissed, to say the least) - and he hated that the first fight in a long time was over Tina. 

“Fine,” Steve says, turning on his heel. “Be that way.” And Steve disappears around the corner. You’re sure Steve is going to come back, apologize profusely, but you give up that hope when you hear the sliding door close shut behind him. 

As he sits on the beach chair around the campfire, next to Tina, Steve’s mind begins to drift away, thinking about his reaction to seeing you and the lifeguard. Why had he gotten so mad? I mean, wanting to physically harm a guy that was flirting with you was a bit much, surely. He acknowledges to himself how he didn’t like seeing you flirt with someone, another male drinking your body in, and he wonders what that confession could mean. Does he have a thing for you, and it took being in a fake relationship, at Chrissy Cunningham’s cabin, seeing you flirting with a lifeguard, for Steve to realize that? All Steve could think about, while his friends laugh and roast marshmallows together, is that he wanted to be under the sheets with you, your small body curved against his – and that scares the shit out of him. 

It's going to be a long ride back to Hawkins. 

[coreancitizen]

Caught a couple of new Korean dramas during the weekend; one I'd been anticipating ("When the Stars Gossip"), another that wasn't even on my radar ("Love Scout").

"Stars" is Lee Min Ho's big K-Drama comeback after "The King Eternal Monarch" so there's a lot of buzz. It's a romcom with him as a space tourist with a hidden agenda while Gong Hyo Jin is an astronaut who eyes the new guy with a lot of suspicion. Looks like LMH heard the complaints about him only playing "prince on a white horse" roles LOL, Gong Ryong is a poor OB/GYN still saddled with medical school debt. BUT he does have a chaebol fiancee. I watched the first episode and he and GHY have a nice lowkey chem, their back-and-forth pretty solid. The tone of the series needs a bit of work. It wants to be serious but also wacky (that pool scene in episode 1 made my brain twitch). But things do settle down a bit later in the episode. Right now, the most I could say is it's great to see LMH again. (Saturday and Sunday, Netflix)

Then there's "Love Scout," an office drama featuring a single dad who works as a secretary for a workaholic CEO with abandonment issues. Look, I was hooked the moment I saw Lee Jun Hyuk in his sharp suit. Then there's the always fantastic Han Ji Min. They made me care for former HR manager Yun Eun Ho and prickly boss Kang Ji Yun right off the bat. Eun Ho was fired from his HR job by his asshole boss who hates his guts for having the audacity to take parental leave when his young daughter was showing signs of depression. Ji Yun doesn't like leaning on anybody, except maybe her accountant bestie — and that can likely be traced to her dad not keeping his promise and disappearing on her, plus some shenanigans at her old workplace. She is super overworked and needs an assistant, STAT! Enter Eun Ho, the friend of bestie's hubby. He was hesitant to accept the job because he already had a couple of run-ins with Ji Yun, which didn't leave good impressions on both sides. But the offer comes with a 50% increase in salary plus flexible hours for child care! Even Eun Ho's adorable kiddo Byeol is giving the thumbs up! I dont think there'll be a lot of surprises. We know where this drama is gonna end up. But I'm still excited to see how these two people get there and how they will heal each other. (Friday and Saturday, Viki)

I think you can tell which one I've been telling my mom and friends to watch ASAP lol.

Edited Jan. 7 to add: Apparently my brain was more fried than I thought because I just realized I had only watched one episode of "When the Stars Gossip." I got very confused when I saw references to fruit flies. I'm sure I'll have more to say after watching that episode LOL!

[weelittleweasley]

a day in the snow (h.p.)

prompt as requested by anon: after being friends for two years, you had been toying with the idea of how and if you should tell harry that you have feelings for him. but will the fear of rejection hold you back?

pairing: harry potter x fem! reader

warnings: food

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: this could be read as a sequel to may i sit?, but you don’t have to read it to understand this fic! happy reading! oh! and requests are still open ;)

Soft, powdery white snow covered the Scottish hills that rolled in the distance. The green grass now hidden beneath blankets and blankets of freshly fallen snow. Untouched snow was soon replaced with trails of snow shoe footprints and laughter of students as they weaved their way to Hogsmeade. It was a perfect winter’s day. Cold enough to keep the snow from melting and make you shiver if you wore the wrong jacket, but not cold enough from keeping you from dragging Harry through the snow to the town.

Harry would have much rather stayed inside and kept warm in the comfort of the common room with the roaring fire in front of him, blanket over his lap as he enjoyed the chatter of his closest friends. You, on the other hand, lived for days like today. You insisted it would be an adventure; out in the snow, romping around, enjoying each other’s company. Although Harry insisted you had gone to Hogsmeade so many times in the past, you had practically begged him to go today. You needed some excitement rather than being cooped up in the castle all weekend long. With a groan and exaggerated roll of his head, Harry finally gave into your pleas. He couldn’t resist you for longer than five minutes of constant begging. 

Linking your arm in his, the two of you trudged through the snow, you laughing as Harry bemoaned about snow getting into his boots. “Don’t be such a party pooper, Potter,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes. “We’ll make a day of it. We can get Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks, shop around at Honeydukes, maybe venture into Zonko’s,” you list off excitedly. It would be a pricey expenditure, but you had just received your monthly allowance from your parents and you were certainly planning on spending a chunk of it today. 

“Or we could head back to the castle, get a blanket, sit by the fire in the common room, sneak into the kitchens. You know the house elves love me,” he smiled as you scoffed at him. “We’ve been to Hogsmeade hundreds of times, why can’t we enjoy a day inside the castle?” he implores you as a bright smile appears on your face as the village comes into your view.

You drop Harry’s arm and make a mad dash for the village, giggling wildly. You turn to face him, walking backwards now, “We are in that castle every day, Harry. I need a change of scenery once in a while and what better place to do so,” you speak merrily. Pure joy was laced in your voice as Harry sighed and shook his head with a smile. He couldn’t deny the look of childish glee on your face as you stood there, waiting for him to catch up to you, clapping your hands like a toddler on Christmas morning. “Now come on, let me treat you to a Butterbeer,” you extend your hand out to him as he gladly accepts it, swinging your arms back and forth.

The gesture was simple, something you and Harry always did. But you couldn’t deny that every time Harry held your hand, flashed you a toothy grin, cracked a joke and looked your way to see if he had made you laugh, it always made your heart flutter and mind races with a thousand and one thoughts. Harry had been your mate, a close one, for almost two years now. After the night you two had formally met, you were inseparable. You spent nights in the library studying (mostly fooling around and pissing others off), running through the corridors playing elaborate games of hide-and-seek, exchanging small glances during class. Together, you and Harry just made sense. The two of you got along like you had known each other your whole lives and yet, nothing more evolved from your friendship. You had managed to convince yourself that a friendship was all you signed up for and all you wanted from Harry which was a total lie. Harry made you feel like you were the only person who mattered; like when he was with you, you had his full and undivided attention. Harry made you feel safe. 

But you ignore the butterflies that danced around in your gut as you walked towards Three Broomsticks, Harry opening the door for you as you slid in carefully. “Go on and find us a seat, I’ll grab us drinks,” you instruct him as he smiles and nods.

You approach the bar and see Madam Rosmerta, drying some mugs. She catches your eye as she flashes you a brilliant smile, “Back again, Miss (Y/L/N),” she beams as you nod. “What can I get for you, my darling?”

“Two Butterbeers please,” you request, leaning against the bar, removing the woolen gloves from your chilled hands. The Three Broomsticks was warm, in temperature and the environment. The pub was bustling in customers, varying in age, old and young. Some Hogwarts students were tucked away in booths as you surveyed the area, some on what looked like dates, others messing around with friends. 

Madam Rosmerta gives you a look, raising one brow suggestively. “Two?” she asks as you nod. “You fancied your way into a date now? Who with?” she implores. But before you can protest that you were just in for a quick drink with a friend, her eyes land on Harry who waits patiently at a table. Madam Rosmerta dramatically gasps, “With the Chosen One?” she gawks. “Nicely done, my darling. Way to go!” she hits your arm encouragingly. 

You shake your head feverishly, “No, no, Harry and I are just mates. We’ve always been mates and always will be.” When the words tumble from your mouth, your stomach feels sour. Always been mates and always will be. Nothing more and nothing less for you and Harry. Stuck in the friend zone. Madam Rosmerta gives you a look to tell you that she’s not buying it. You insist, “Really. Harry is a good friend. We’re just spending the day together as mates.”

She smiles at you as she pours you up two brimming mugs of Butterbeer, the copper mugs foaming wildly with the delicious beverage. “That’s how it always starts,” she teases as you play with the hem of your lavender jumper. “Just mates usually means something more is on the way,” she winks as you lightly laugh. Reaching into your pocket, you look for a few sickles to give in exchange for your drinks, but Madam Rosmerta stops you. “These are on the house,” she insists. “A toast to best mates,” she winks.

“Thank you,” you blush before you part from the bar, walking over to the table with your drinks. “For you,” you slide the mug over to Harry who thanks you before you sit down and take a sip from the refreshing beverage. 

Harry takes a glug from his mug before speaking, “Alright. Well, now that you’ve got me here, what’s on the agenda? I want the full (Y/N) (Y/L/N) experience.” 

You smile at your best friend and shake your head. Harry could be a pisser, but he sure knew how to make you smile. As you ran off everything you wanted to do for the day, you became very aware of Harry’s gaze as he looked at you. His green eyes held so much tenderness, gently resting upon you as you spoke with such glee in your voice. Occasionally, he would permit a small smile to appear on his lips as you would catch him and ask what he was smiling about. He would brush it off and simply say, “Nothing. I find it sweet when you get excited about things.”

In response, you scoffed and rolled your eyes whilst inside your stomach did and flip and your mind screamed about how much you liked him. How you wanted to hold his hand and tell him how much you cared for him. How you wanted kiss his lips and lay your head on his chest, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. But instead, you continued blabbering on about the day ahead of you. 

After finishing at Three Broomsticks, you and Harry walked down High Street and made a stop at Honeydukes. Inside were countless shelves filled with sweets and treats beyond imagination. As soon as you stepped foot inside, you immediately ran to the shelves to pick out your favorite sweets. Harry laughed at your impatience; you couldn’t even wait for him to grab you a basket. “We have to stock up on all the good stuff, Harry,” you say very intently as you grab three parcels of Jelly Slugs. “Godric knows that once Ron sees the stash, he’s bound to consume half of it,” you huff as Harry laughs. You weren’t wrong. 

Harry watches as you select a few Chocolate Frogs, Chocolate Wands, and Cockroach Clusters from the shelves. “Easy does it, you don’t want to spend all of your money in one place,” he warns.

You flash him a look. “Geez, you sound like Granger,” you laugh as he rolls his eyes. “Last time I checked if Harry saw me buying this many sweets, he’d be encouraging me to buy more,” you tease as he rolls his eyes. “Come on, what do you want? My treat.”

Harry looks at you and shakes his head. “(Y/N), no. You already treated for Butterbeer, I’m not letting you buying me sweets too,” he tells you as you shake your head.

“Madam Rosmerta covered the cost of the Butterbeers, so that doesn’t count,” you reveal to him as he gives you a confused look. But before he can question why she would cover the cost, you speak up, “Come on, Harry, if you don’t chose, I’ll chose for you.” You nudge his arm as he sighs giving in as you smile widely. 

You knew Harry didn’t want you wasting your money on him, but you hardly considered it a waste. You wanted him to enjoy himself too, especially since he didn’t want to leave the castle and you practically forced him out. This was just a small way to express your gratitude.

Now, your shopping basket was full of sweets and was considerably heavy. But it was no problem. You swiftly paid the cashier and carried out a large bag of sweets out of the shoppe as Harry laughed as you struggled to carry it. “Give it here,” he laughs as he takes the bag from your hands, easily carrying it in just one of his. “Light as a feather.”

“Oh, shut it, Harry,” you laugh alongside him as you trudge through the snow, enjoying how lively the town was today. People made chatter, buying things from the shoppes, children playing in the snow, indulging in sweets. The scene made your heart swell. You loved how alive and well the town seemed. As you looked around, you felt Harry’s gaze on you again as you caught his eye. “Why’re you staring at me?” you laugh as Harry blushes.

“I can’t look at my best friend?” he defends himself. “Rather me close my eyes and walk around blindly?” he teases as he screw his eyes shut, pretending to feel around for directions. “Someone help. My best friend is mad that I dare look at her so now I’m forced to walk around like this!” he jokes as you roll your eyes.

But before you can say anything, you hear someone call out for Harry’s name. You both turn around and see Ron jogging over to you both as Harry looks at you. “Go,” you smile at him. “No need to ask me for permission.”

Harry smiles as Ron runs over to him, the two of them immediately babbling about something that Ron found in Zonko’s. Behind Ron is Hermione who walks over to you with a small smile. “Enjoying yourself?” you wiggle your eyebrows at Hermione.

She rolls her eyes, “Ron and I were in Zonko’s for nearly three hours.” You laugh at her complaint. She sighs, “But it made him happy. So in a weird way, I guess it was worth it.” You poke at her sides, teasing her for her innocent crush on her best friend. “Oh, stop, you’re one to talk! Harry told us he wasn’t feeling well today and he wasn’t going to come out with us,” Hermione reveals.

You stop poking at Hermione’s words as they fall from her lips. You twist your face with confusion. “What do you mean he didn’t feel well?” you ask as Hermione restates what she had previously revealed. Did Harry lie to his two best friends, so he could spend the day with you? You shake your head, “No, Harry told me he wanted to stay in the castle today. He didn’t want to go out today all together,” you justify.

Hermione gives you a knowing look. “Sure, he could have told you that, but you know Harry likes to give people a hard time. He would have gone with you whether you begged or not,” she smiles. “Even if you didn’t go to Hogsmeade, you would have stayed at the castle with him, wouldn’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer to the question when a rosy hue appears on your cheeks. “(Y/N), drop the charade. You both have been infatuated with the other since you met each other,” Hermione places a hand on your arm, rubbing it. “Everyone sees the glances you two steal, the way you laugh at his jokes, the way he literally drops everything to be next to you...don’t wait any longer.”

If this all was true, then maybe it really did mean Harry had deeper feelings for you. But the possibility that people were reading into it and Harry saw you as just a close friend loomed over your head like a dark rain cloud. The fear of Harry looking into your eyes and telling you that this relationship of yours was merely platonic would break your heart. You would rather keep your secret just that, a secret. That way you could prevent yourself from being hurt. But then there was the risk of keeping this secret hidden deeply and hurting yourself by watching him live life with another girl, someone who wasn’t you. And that was what made your stomach churn. 

Before you can ask Hermione advice, Harry speaks up, “(Y/N), you ready?” You look at Hermione who gives you a reassuring squeeze and wink as you sigh. Turning to Harry, you nod. 

“We’ll catch up later,” you tell Hermione who gives you a curt nod. You walk over to Harry who extends a hand out to you to walk back into the castle. You accept it, letting your hands swing back and forth, letting the negative thoughts in your mind float away as you enjoy the feeling of his gloved hand holding yours. 

Harry gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he notices you ruminating in thought, nibbling on your bottom lip. He knew your nervous habits like the back of his hand and he monitored them carefully. “What’s bothering you?” he asks quite simply. You look at him, puzzled. “Your biting your bottom lip. You always do that when you’re overthinking something,” he tells you as you sigh defeated. He knew you too well and that was the problem. “You know you can tell me, (Y/N). We’re best friends.”

Best friends. That’s exactly what you were. “Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Anything,” he smiles as he continues to swing your hand back and forth.

But you stop walking and drop his hand, tucking both your hands into your jacket pockets. Harry watches as you do so, gulping, nervous as to what you had to say. “Did you...did you tell Hermione and Ron that you didn’t want to go to Hogsmeade with them today because you weren’t feeling well?” you ask.

Harry looks at you blankly before inhaling deeply. “I did, yes.”

You, even more confused, now try to clarify. “But you came out to Hogsmeade with me instead? You told me you wanted to stay in the castle, so why didn’t you? If you weren’t feeling well, you should have told me that and I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me,” you tell Harry who just stands there. “Harry, you know you don’t have to follow me around. I could have gone with someone else today.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not the point, (Y/N). That’s not why I came with you.”

“Then why did you come with me?” you ask, genuinely needing to know the answer. Harry remains silent for a moment as you groan. “Harry, I need you to be honest with me. You tell some of your friends one thing and then you tell me another. I’m just confused and I need at least a little clarity as to what is going on inside that head of yours,” you exclaim.

Harry stands there silent again as you look at him, with an exhausted expression on your face. Was it really that hard to tell you the truth? You shake your head and start walking away from Harry, whispering under your breath, “This is ridiculous.”

Before you can take another step away from him, Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back to him, spinning you around to face him. He wastes no time, cupping your cold cheeks in his hands and pulling you into him, connecting his lips with yours. You are taken aback by the sudden move, but you instantly melt into his touch, kissing him back. His lips are cold from the weather, but the kiss is warm and sweet and genuine. The kiss is revitalizing; it makes your heart speed up and makes you pull him closer to you, wanting more and more and more until you can’t take anymore. Harry only kisses you harder as you relax into the kiss. As you kiss, you can feel snowflakes fall upon your cheeks and eyelashes. The scene was picturesque. Two friends now kissing in the middle of the snowy pathway as freshly fallen snow surrounds them like halos. 

Gently, Harry pulls away and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs as you keep your eyes closed, savoring the sensation of his cool lips on yours. “Does that clarify things?” he asks as you lightly smile, fluttering your eyes open, looking into his green ones. “I always want to be with you, (Y/N). I lied to Ron and Hermione because I wanted to be with you. I will take every opportunity to be with you because I’m absolutely head over heels for you.”

His words make your heart flutter. It was everything you have ever wanted to hear and you can’t help but smile like a goofball at his words. “You are?” you say in disbelief, breathlessly as you hold onto his arms tightly, not ever wanting to let go. 

“Head over heels,” he repeats. “And I’m willing to do anything to prove it to you.”

You smile widely before pressing your forehead against his. “There’s no need. Because I’m head over heels for you, Harry,” you confess as Harry smiled brightly at your confession before kissing the tip of your nose gently. “Quite the pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into, huh, Potter?” you tease him.

Harry shakes his head, “One I don’t plan on getting out of any time soon,” he tells you before kissing you again sweetly as the snow showers over the both of you.

[edie-baby]

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 2 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Sava woke up on Friday with no intention of getting out of bed before noon. And then realised that she wasn’t in her bed, it was a hotel room. The memories and realities of her current situation made her head spin, and with a shit eating grin on her face, she jumped out of bed and into the shower. Feeling as though she should stay on brand, Sava pulled on a white pleated skirt and tucked the oversized Carlin shirt into the waistband. She braided her hair while it was still a little wet, knowing it would be easier than the kerfuffle she had yesterday trying to walk, carry a helmet, and braid at the same time. Combat boots, a phone, and paddock pass later and Sava was leaving the hotel room to meet Amelia in the cafeteria-like space on the ground floor to have breakfast and chat about the agenda for the day before they headed to the track.

Unbeknownst to Sava, a number of the F1 drivers were staying at the same hotel, and when she stepped into the room, eyes focused on finding other Carlin shirts, many heads turned her way. Obviously, news about a girl in a Carlin race suit with pink hair had spread into the formula one paddock quite quickly. Sava gave up on trying to find her assistant when she had no luck, preferring to make her way to the coffee bench to make herself a very sweet black coffee over ice. While the coffee began brewing, she turned her back to the bench, taking another look out over the crowds of people at tables to try and find her friends again, only to see that 75% of the room was already looking at her, and those that weren’t were whispering to the people that were. The poor girl looked like a deer in the headlights, and apparently one man couldn’t see her like that, as he stood from his table and walked toward her. He was still metres away and Sava was already having to strain her neck to look up at him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bombard you like this while you’re already quite overwhelmed. But I can tell you’re a bit lost. Would you like to come and sit with me until you find your team?” The man asked, his accent was distinctly French, and Sava kicked herself for not instantly recognising the man as Esteban Ocon.

“Oh my, yes please! This is my first time outside of karting, let alone in the actual F2 paddock, so I’m so lost and don’t know anyone.” Sava giggled, finishing up making her super sweet coffee and following Esteban’s stride toward a table of black and yellow clad people, along with the unmistakable grin of Daniel Ricciardo.

“I’m Esteban, by the way. I think I heard your name was Dvarokova?” The Frenchman questioned after a few beats of silence, realising that the 5’1 woman couldn’t walk as quickly as he.

“Ah, Dvorakova. Don’t worry about messing up the pronunciation, I misspell it sometimes. My name is Sava, but pretty much everyone calls me Bunny.” Sava replied with a giggle at the butchering of her surname. She couldn’t blame anyone, it was a hard enough name to most Eastern Europeans, she couldn’t even imagine how some of the nationalities in the paddock would pronounce it.

“Bunny. That’s quite cute.” Esteban mused, and they finally reached the rowdy table of Renault employees.

“Guys, this is Bunny. She’s going to sit with us cause she’s new and can’t find anyone from Carlin.” Esteban introduced, and a round of wolf whistles sounded as she threw up a peace sign, then took the seat next to Esteban, across from Daniel.

“Hi, I’m Danny. You’re such a little cutie.” Daniel introduced, leaning his arm over to poke at Sava’s cheeks that immediately heated up in a flaming blush. Another round of oohs and ahs went through the table and Sava giggled again.

“Pipe down, I’m only 17.” In immediate reaction to her statement, Daniel threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes connecting with a few guys nearby who all laughed at his expression.

“Way to make a man feel like a pedo.” Daniel mumbled, and more chuckles reverberated around the group who heard. The team all spoke to Sava with interest and respect, something she didn’t expect she would be getting before she had even gotten into a car. After about fifteen minutes, she spotted Yuki walking through the door with Amelia, and excused herself quickly, exchanging fist bumps with everyone she passed along the Renault table. When she got to the end, she met Yuki and Amelia with surprised looks on their faces before the three found a small table by the window to finally sit down and eat.

“How ready are you Bunny?” Yuki asked later on that morning while the two pulled their race suits up and made final preparations. Sava looked over at him nervously as she tucked her pink braids into the suit.

“Considering I’ve only ever driven a go-kart or a Hyundai I-20, I’m shitting myself. But I’m confident enough in my karting ability to do well-enough here. How about you? Amelia told me you have a seat at Alpha Tauri next season, are you still nervous about these races or are you a cool guy about it?” Sava hit back, smiling at her first friend in serious motorsport, who she could tell she would miss if she made it into F2 next year like Dr Marko had suggested.

“I still want to do well so that they don’t think they’ve made a mistake. But I’m not as nervous as I was when I didn’t know if I’d have a seat.” The Japanese man replied, and pulled on his balaclava, Sava following shortly after. They made eye contact, their mouths obscured by the fabric, and burst out laughing. Amelia guided Sava away so that she could get her helmet on and have one final chat with the engineer she would be hearing in her ears for the weekend. Yuki ran over just before Sava jumped in the car and slapped the top of her helmet, just like her uncle Sebastian had done before every race and she smiled the biggest she probably ever has. With a quick hug to Yuki and another scolding glance from Amelia, Sava climbed into her car for her first ever free practice in a single seater.

“Radio check.” Sava spoke, her voice wobbling slightly as she felt the rumble of the car beneath her.

“Confirm, Bunny. Hop to it.” Her engineer, Marcus, stated with amusement in his voice. Sava audibly laughed as she stepped on the accelerator, rolling out of the garage when she got the signal. Driving through the pitlane was surreal, and Sava knew she’d be feeling that a lot throughout the weekend. She ran two warm-up laps, getting acquainted with the car and testing the responsiveness of the brakes and the throttle. Once her tyres were at the right temperature, she got a radio message to give it hell, and so she did.

It was complete radio silence in the Carlin garage as everyone, including Yuki, sat and watched the rookie on her first hot-lap. She got a purple first sector, green second sector, and purple third sector, putting herself at the very top of the timing tower. While the practice session had only been active for around eight minutes, she had already beat two other drivers who had put in preliminary hot laps. Marcus relayed the time to Sava, and when she asked for the fastest time out of a qualifying session from the year prior, she groaned in frustration.

“Can I run a few more out laps and get comfortable with the responsiveness? I know I can do better.” Sava pleaded, and Marcus quickly agreed. If she thought she could get a better time than the one she had already given them, then hell they’d let her run all day. After four out-laps, she was brought in for a quick refuel and to look over the data of her hot-lap in comparison to Yuki’s. He was braking later, but Sava was getting better acceleration out of the corners. She knew now just how good the brakes were and considering she was known throughout the European karting scene for braking extremely late, she knew she could get better times, and maybe knock a few tenths off her entire lap. By the time she was finished looking at the data, everyone on the grid had put in multiple flying laps, and she was confident that whatever she pulled out now would be a decent comparison of her speed to the rest of the grid. With two more out-laps to get her tyres and brakes at the perfect temperature, she was off again.

Purple first sector, purple second sector, purple third sector.

As her name flew up the timing table, the Carlin garage waited with baited breath, to finally see Sava Dvorakova land at P1, four tenths quicker than the next fastest, Juri Vips.

“No fucking way.” Amelia mumbled, her eyes trained on the initials of the girl she had been following around for the past two days. Similar reactions were happening over in the Renault garage, many of the team who spoke with the girl earlier that morning tuned in to catch the first performance.

Qualifying later that day followed a very similar pattern. Finishing P2 behind Juri Vips, their times separated by one one-thousandth of a second. The real test was to see if the Czech could keep up the pace in their sprint and feature races over the next two days.

Those boys had hell to pay, and sure as shit, Sava was gonna come collect.

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

[romioneficfest]

Nice to Meet You

Title: Nice to Meet You

Prompt/Day: Enemies to Lovers (Day 8)

Tumblr Name: 

Rating: T

Brief Summary: "The moment I first saw her, I knew I was in trouble." A muggle university AU one-shot featuring Ron/Hermione.

Any possible triggering/warning tags: Mild swearing (because Ron can't clean up his language)

Word Count: 1,490

--

The moment I first saw her, I knew I was in trouble.

On a Saturday night during my final year at university, I was at a massive house party, drinking merrily.

I was on my third round of flip cup when I inadvertently flicked the cup too hard. I watched it soar through the air until it bounced off the top of a girl’s head.

“Oh, fuck,” I chuckled, stumbling my way through the throng of people before my feet landed in front of the large armchair she occupied.

She had long, frizzy, curly hair and deep chocolate brown eyes. The way her nostrils flared back at me,  I suspected that she was pretty mad.

"Sorry about that. I think they’re going to have to cut me off," I apologized, hoping my speech wasn’t too slurred.

The mysterious girl rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. Her lack of a verbal response offended me, and I couldn’t just walk away.

There was an open book on her lap. "Are you reading? At a party?"

"Yeah. So?"

I was taken aback by her cold demeanor, although I recovered quickly.

"So, I feel like most people come to a party to socialize with other people, not to ignore them. If you want to read, why not just curl up on your sofa at home?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, looking annoyed by my decision to continue chatting with her. She clapped her book shut with a loud thud, her eyes blazing with an emotion that I could only decipher as fury.

“I’ll have you know that I agreed to be the designated driver for my flatmate tonight. I’d rather wait here than drive all the way home and back again. The last thing I want right now is to be interrogated by some clumsy drunk.”

“Ha!” The more I spoke to this girl, the more she riled me up. "You’re quite high and mighty, aren’t you? Aren’t we so lucky that you graced us with your presence tonight—”

“Who are you?” She interjected icily.

“I’m me. A human being. Nice to meet you!” I held out my hand for her to shake in a mock gesture that proved to be ineffective.

“You’re a mess.”

“And you’re a nightmare, honestly.”

Her eyes darkened, and I regretted my choice of words. “If you think I’m such a nightmare, then why are you still standing here speaking with me?”

I bent over and picked up the plastic cup, crushing it between my fingers as I stomped off, leaving the room with the tips of my ears burning. I didn't even catch her name, but I didn't think I wanted it.

--

I stumbled out of bed on Monday morning and trudged my way towards my favorite coffee shop, in desperate need of my daily dose of caffeine to make it through a long day of classes. My head was still throbbing from the events over the weekend, which did nothing to alleviate my sour mood.

When I pushed open the door, the wafting odor of coffee beans invaded my nostrils. Before I could seek out the counter to place my order, my eyes landed on someone that made me freeze in place.

Bloody fucking course.

It was the girl from the party. I almost laughed out loud. She still had her nose deep in a book despite the location change.

Sighing to myself, I walked up to the counter to place my usual order — black.

I sat on the stool at the bar counter, observing the infuriating girl as I waited for my coffee. I shook my head in amazement. She never looked up from her bloody book. Not even once.

My name was called, and I wrapped my calloused hand around the to-go cup, nodding my head in appreciation towards the barista. My hand was on the door when I paused. For reasons unknown at the time, something was pulling me back. My feet started to move of their own volition until I was standing in front of her table.

I waited a few moments for her to notice me, but of course, she still had her head buried in that book of hers. Eventually, I cleared my throat, and she raised her head with her brows furrowed and her lips pressed in a thin line.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” I smirked.

“Something I can help you with?” She sighed through gritted teeth.

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Oh, I don’t know. Depends on if you’re ready to apologize to me for Saturday night.”

The girl’s eyebrows raised so high they disappeared underneath her fringe. “Me? Apologize to you? After you were the one who called me a nightmare? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Only because you said I was a mess first!” I never realized how petty I was until now. I decided to switch gears. “Look, I’m sorry for hitting you in the head. And I think we got off to an awkward start. My name is—”

“I know who you are. You’re Ron Weasley,” she said matter-of-factly.  

I winced, feeling guilty. “I didn’t think we’d ever met before.”

“We haven’t met properly. But we’ve shared many classes.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if—”

“We have. And you definitely didn’t notice me until last Saturday.”

The pit in my stomach grew. “Well, I’d like to know you now.” I stuck out my hand in a gesture meant as a peace offering. “I’m Ron Weasley. And, you are?”

The girl studied me for a long, hard minute before extending her hand forward. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

I couldn’t understand why my heart started racing, or why I had to wipe my sweaty palm on my trousers after letting go of her hand.

“Well, Hermione Granger, it's nice to meet you.”

--

When I finally realized that I was attracted to her, I was already a goner.

It was near the end of my final year at university when I had first stepped foot into the school library, and it was all because of her.

Hermione looked surprised to see me and even more startled to see the pile of books I had tucked underneath my arm. Wordlessly, I sat down at her table across from her and began to flip through the textbooks of the classes I knew we shared.

We continued meeting in the library weekly, studying in silence. It wasn’t until one day in late spring, when we had the entire library to ourselves, that she finally spoke.

“Why are you here?”

I tilted my head. “I’m here every week.”

“I know that. But, why?”

“I want to be.”

“And why is that?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

“Everyone always has a reason for doing something.”

“I like you, okay?”

“And there is no hidden agenda?”

“Why does there have to be a hidden agenda to spend time with someone? Up until right now, I was quite enjoying your company.”

“Oh, so now you’re not?”

“Not really, no. Not if you’re going to keep making me out to be someone I’m not.”

“And who are you, Ron Weasley?”

“I’m someone who doesn’t need to take this shit. I’m out of here.” I shuffled my books into my bag, ignoring her calls as I charged out the door.

The door slammed shut behind me with a resounding bang. I clenched my fists at my side and willed myself not to look back. After a few steadying breaths, I knew there was only one choice to make.

I turned around.

I saw her crying, and all I wanted to do was wipe the tears away. The pang in my chest indicated I was the reason she was upset.

I turned the knob on the door, listening to the sound of it creak as I opened it just enough to slide through the crack.

Hermione placed a hand over her heart, appearing startled to see me again. She used the pads of her thumbs to wipe away the tear stains, her face flushed. All I could think about was how beautiful she still looked, despite how open and vulnerable she was at that moment.

With more determination than I had ever felt before, I rushed towards her, watching her lips part and eyes widen in surprise as I drew closer. I cupped both of her cheeks with my large hands, dipped my head low, and kissed her full on the mouth. She responded fervently, clutching at my shoulders as our lips roamed together. It felt natural and right.

I pulled back mere centimeters and whispered on her lips. “Do you get it now?”

“Y-yeah.”

I searched her eyes, my hands still cupping her face. “I’m going to sit back down, and we’re going to keep studying together. Okay?”

The corners of her lips curved up into the first smile I ever saw from her. “Okay.”

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift - Part 2

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Little inklings of sexual themes. Otherwise we’re still in PG territory. Oh and mutual pining from two idiots. My favourite kind.

Authors Note: One shot? I don’t know her. Honestly, I don’t have any excuse. I just felt the urge to continue on with this dumb fluffy story because it makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside and I needed that. Will we drive this car straight into smut town afterwards? Ah you’ll just have to see. 

Catch up with Part 1 here

*

Paul always considered himself a smart guy. Perceptive, knowledgeable, with years of grueling education behind him to be where he is today.

His schooling, work, almost every minute of his waking moments was spent in the realm of artificial illustrations of correspondence. He could happily spend hours sifting through the words and numbers that made up all types of message transmission, might even admit he had a talent for decoding their significance and origin. Exchanges born from machinery were easy to analyse – they had set rules and gave little room for differing interpretation. He was comfortable in that world. Knew how things worked, what paths data and carefully devised information would take.

Human communication was infinitely harder to navigate. It was a skill he knew he was lacking in, compared to others at least. His words never came out the way he wanted, he struggled to say exactly what was wished to convey and agonised over the fact expression and tone could morph any remark into something with a whole different meaning.

Every day, he encountered people who used this as a tool - a weapon to obscure the truth and conceal hidden agendas. It was hard not to, working for the US government. In time, he’d become cynical. Wary of what people spoke aloud, assuming it was all said without much sincerity or reliability unless proven otherwise.

And then after another arduous day, there you were. Out of nowhere. Kind. Honest. Genuine. Within such an excruciatingly short interaction, you’d exuded all these traits so effortlessly. A breath of fresh air after being smothered by the smog the rest of his life contained.

Paul would easily admit his attraction to you was surprisingly swift. The rapturing smile you wore when you’d looked up from your notepad had him snared from the moment it appeared, an aura of natural vibrance and radiant energy shimmering out from your animated expression. What he’d expected to be a dry, tedious endeavour turned into a spark-filled scene, where an excited stranger made him feel both horrendously nervous and unusually at-ease. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like that.

It had also been a long time since he’d asked someone out on a date, for more than a few reasons. The more prolific Paul became in his job, the more unpredictable and unstable his life outside of it was. It took him across the country at a moments’ notice and consumed most hours of his day, meaning forging even short relationships was fairly difficult.

Plus… he just wasn’t good at it. Putting himself out there. He was shy, paralyzingly so. It’s not exactly something he could refute. His confidence was always born from experience and understanding, in knowing the reasons behind why things worked the way they did, along with being able to calculate what would happen next. No textbook could ever cover the entire spectrum of human personality, and there was no way to truly predict what a person might do or say. 

So, without the security of knowledge behind him, uneasiness and apprehension took over in most of his social interactions, particularly with those he felt a magnetism to. It’s exactly how he thought he seemed during his time with you. Awkward and floundering. Not exactly the most charming attributes for a man to have. And yet, the longer he was in your presence, the more he sensed those foibles fade into the back of his mind.

Talking to you was easy. Easier than it had been with anyone during a first meeting. What hadn’t been easy was enduring the seconds your touch grazed over him in your delicate workings while taking each different measurement - his heart beating a little faster, his muscles becoming a little more tense. When you’d eventually let your stare reach his, he’d seen how your eyes moved to trace the lines of his mouth, and it set his insides on fire. He’d been frozen by the unique type of burn, his body locked in place while a rare impulse begged him to sink his lips onto yours. In the past, he struggled to kiss a woman even after several dates, unable to push past the fear and doubt to turn his desire into action. However, in that moment, he’d been all too eager. His hand had moved on its own accord, fingers slinking up your waist, about to pull you closer when interruption instantly shattered his resolve.

The urge was still there in the dialogue that followed, although the promise of seeing you tomorrow made it easier to walk away, safe in the knowledge he had another opportunity to ask you out when his confidence was properly steeled. For once, he could be smart about this. Use his natural intellect to plan and act accordingly, giving him the best odds of securing more time with you.

Oh, but that all went to shit when your text message popped up on his phone screen. Seeing those words, even if they were meant for someone else, made his excitement reach an unfathomable peak, and in turn made him recklessly send a response without taking a second to think about the consequences.

And now, Paul had never felt so stupid in his entire life.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, the phone in his palm lit up with your conversation on display, he felt his stomach spasm with anxiety. Were you going to reply? What would you say? What if his bluntness freaked you out? What if you weren’t even talking about him? Was this all something his mind conjured up?

As the minutes passed without any sign of a response, the initially minor sense of panic began to compound, weighing heavy on his chest, the chaos of his mind soon melting into one certainty - he’d totally fucked this up.

About to slump his forehead into the steering wheel in a display of despondency, Paul suddenly felt a flash of courage at remembering the view of your face peering up at him. He knew the image of it would haunt him if he didn’t do something. He had to fix this. Explain himself. But it needed to be in person. He wouldn’t let technology mess this up for him again.

With a purposeful breath, Paul exited his car and began to retrace his steps past the other shopfronts, silently rehearsing what he wanted to say to you. He hoped to surrender himself to a collectively embarrassing situation, laugh off the turn of events, having it all culminate in an offer of dinner once your shift had finished. He already had a place in mind, only a street away, a little dumpling house that was always open late. Perfect for a cosy, quiet date after a chance meeting.

When his eyes latched onto your figure through the glass window, he stopped his hand from reaching for the door handle. You were crouching down in front of a small boy, his mother behind him cradling a newborn baby, your hand gesturing towards an array of child size suits. Paul couldn’t help but watch as your warming smile beamed, guiding the boys hands to touch and feel over the material, your words evidently making him feel more at ease as his expression slowly relaxed out of its worried frown.

Creeping backwards to make sure you didn’t catch him in your periphery, Paul felt a wave of relief wash over his skin, having evidence that your lack of reply wasn’t due to any of the worst case scenarios he’d been fretting over. You were just busy, concentrated on your work, giving your time and expertise to others in the same way you’d given to him.

The realisation was enough for him slink away, still impatient for your next encounter but assured in it being set within the next day cycle. He just had to wait.

Although, waiting wasn’t exactly a talent of his either.

 *

You were dying inside.

A friendly grin was plastered on your face as you conversed sweetly with the woman in front of you, making idle chit-chat while her son changed out of the suit you’d picked together, but the smile had never felt so insincere. Usually you loved when children came in to pick out ensembles for weddings and similarly formal events, but at the moment your mind was stuck on a small battery-powered rectangle sitting at your desk with a half-written message remaining under your lock-screen.

In the time before Paul’s response came through, you’d never felt more humiliated in your whole existence. Evaporating into thin air would have been a welcomed miracle. But when the returning text slid into focus, your whole mindset shifted.

He felt the same. He wanted you too.

You’d been in the middle of typing out a hasty invitation to come back and make true on his intentions when this overwhelmed mother with a fussy baby caught your attention. Her eldest son had done his best to iron out his only formal suit for the role of ring bearer in an aunt’s wedding this coming weekend, unfortunately resulting an a house full of smoke and a clump of burnt wool.

Personal matters withered into the background at the comprehension of her drained, exhausted demeanour, all your focus pointed back towards the job you’d been distracted from. Well, mostly.

You couldn’t avoid the thoughts and questions glinting in the back of your mind. Of what might have happened if this woman never appeared. What might be happening in an alternate timeline where you’d been able to send that waiting reply. Without intention, your wonderings turned into moving pictures – leading Paul into the back workshop, being roughly picked up onto the cutting table, his lips and yours finally connected in a heated clash, shedding all of his clothing until that heinous mustard shirt was crumpled on the floor-

The high pitched beep of the receipt machine snapped you back into reality, noting the relieved smile the mother wore while her son excitedly grabbed at the bags containing his dashing new suit.

“Thank you!” he hollered without needing to be prompted, waving his hand vigorously before skittering away to the door.

“You’re an absolute lifesaver,” the woman echoed, taking the receipt from your outstretched hand. “I’m really sorry for keeping you so late.”

“Oh don’t worry about it.” The time on the monitor screen just ticked over to 8:17pm, long after you would usually shut up shop and head home to your empty apartment. “I've got nowhere special to be.”

You each said your goodbyes, waiting until the precise moment her silhouette was out of sight before jumping to your phone. The same half written message was there, but now it felt impossible to finish. All traces of adrenaline had long since worn off, and the bravery that made you type out the risqué proposition was reduced to almost nothing. Your timid nature rushed back in full force, a thumb pressing hard on the little x button to erase all evidence of your out of character impulses.

Who were you kidding. You weren’t this person. Unashamed and brazen enough to dive into a fiery entanglement with a handsome stranger in the same evening you’d met. You wished you could be. There was never a time the concept was so enticing. But… it was a fantasy not meant for you to live out. They were destined for the outgoing, the cool and composed, the bold and sure-footed. You rarely felt like any of those things. And Paul, like most men, probably reserved their interest and attraction for those types of women. It was so silly of you to think any different. Getting your hopes up was foolish, and would only end in-

The tingle of the shopkeepers bell sounded, internally groaning as you slid your phone back onto the desk. “We’re closed,” you hawked, a coldness in your tone you couldn’t hide. Eyes snapping up to the intruder, a bolt of lightening shot through, barely able to stop the delight mixing into your blood.

“I just, uh, figured out something more that I needed,” Paul said softly, scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“You did?” you breathed. “W-what was it?”

His chest rose and fell with a calming exhale, making sure your stares were secured before giving his answer. “…You.”

*

Tagging some lovelies who might want to read. Feel free to let me know if you don’t want to tagged in future works!

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza​ @millenialcatlady​ 

[faithhopeloveandtherapy]

I have worried for ages and then been absolutely convinced for the last four days that the babies’ worker has been thinking about moving toddler to a foster placement with her older sibling. The reason they would do this is because it’s likely that they will seek an adoptive placement of toddler and her older sibling together. The social worker came round on Friday and asked lots of weird questions that felt like she had a hidden agenda and made it hard for me to be honest with her for fear of how she would use any information I told her. I rang my worker afterwards in a panic, fretted all weekend, told a couple of close friends how genuinely worried I was and how I couldn’t do this again, take two siblings of a group, because this fear of one of them moving was awful.

I was genuinely panicking that this was seriously being considered.

Today the babies’ worker came out again. She’s spoken to my worker and she wants to 100% reassure me that nobody is thinking about moving toddler. That toddler will stay here with us until an adoptive placement is found. That her weird questions were nothing to do with us and everything to do with things that are going on in sibling’s placement.

I feel hugely relieved and reassured. But also a bit despairing of my anxiety. Now I look back, I can see that it was all my own interpretation of things that were said. But I was so convinced it was all true. When we went by train to London at the weekend, I felt anxious. My brain throws out every possible worst case scenario and I’m constantly worrying that the train will be cancelled, we’ll miss the connection, it’ll be delayed etc etc - but at least in that case, I can see that it’s all anxiety and I can rationalise and have insight into understanding what’s going on, it’s just my brain being unhelpful etc. But this thing with toddler moving, I had no insight at all… it felt so real. I was so convinced. How can I fix something when I can’t even see that I’m in the middle of it?

[randomoranges]

rambly fic thing as always. 

Boxed Up

It’s a quiet dinner, safe for the scrape of forks against the dinner plates. Well – mostly his fork against his dish. Étienne’s been playing with his food more than actually eating at it, digging out the wild mushrooms from the risotto and chewing on them for longer than necessary. He’s been this way for the better part of the week and Edward has no idea what’s been eating at him. He’s asked, on more than one occasion, but Étienne’s been cagey. Edward’s giving him until the weekend before sitting him down proper and confronting him about whatever’s been bothering him. It’s been a hell of a week and a crazy month at that too, so it could be a myriad of different things, for all he knows.

 He’d ask now, over dinner, but they’re both tired and he’s not sure he has enough energy for pushing the issue until it’s solved. He feels as though he’ll just end up hurting his partner by saying the wrong thing, despite the best of his intentions. Therefore, he gives Étienne space and just hopes that he’ll come around in his own time. He can tell that Étienne wants to breech whatever has been bothering him, but he too is looking for the right time. Edward worries. Always. It’s part of his nature. He knows how Étienne can get and doesn’t want that for him.

 Edward’s about to clear the dishes, seeing as Étienne’s made little to no progress on his meal, when, as if reading his mind, his boyfriend speaks out, quiet and fragile, over his mound of simmered rice and mushrooms.

 “Are you happy?” He asks and Edward blinks, wondering if he’s even heard right.

 “What?” He asks intelligibly, the question having taken him by surprise.

 “Are you bored?” Étienne asks instead.

 “What?” He repeats, a broken machine that has failed to comprehend the simply task that’s been asked of it.

 “Of us. Are you bored of us – our relationship – our lives? Are you happy being here – with me and our life?”

 He blinks again. He has no idea where this is coming from. He would have never guessed that this has been the issue plaguing his boyfriend’s mind. He wonders what this means. Where Étienne wants to go with this and if it isn’t some cataclysm to something bigger and mightier.

 Instead, he takes a sip of water to buy him some time to ponder the best way to answer these questions other than stating the obvious. At least – the obvious to him.

 “I’m not bored,” He says, finally, “And I’m quite happy with our life together.”

 He thinks maybe that will be that and Étienne will be content with the answer, but he’s known the other for too long and so he’s able to tell that there’s still more gnawing at his mind.

 “Are you – unhappy? Bored? Is this what this is about?” He asks, fear taking hold of his own mind. Is Étienne about to tell him that he wants a break? Wants to end this? Edward would be devastated. Blindsided as well.

 “What – no! I like our life!” He says quickly, almost insulted Edward would suggest otherwise. “I’m just – it’s just – don’t you find we spend too much time together?”

 Sometimes, he wishes Étienne could be clear when he talks about things that are bothering him. The roadmap to the real issue is always a complicated mess with sharp turns and pedantic questions that lead from one existential dilemma to another, until finally, with careful word choice, Edward is able to get to the real root of the problem. He momentarily wishes Étienne would have waited until the weekend to expose his issues – when they’d both be more rested, but he supposes he’ll take what he can. At least, he thinks, Étienne is talking. In his own complicated way.

 “What do you mean?”

 “We’re literally always together. We work together. You drive me to work. We have lunch together – often. We do things on weekends together – usually. Aren’t you afraid that at some point you’ll get bored? Is this what life is all about? Is this what you really want out of your life? Don’t you wish it was more exciting? Is this what you wanted when you were younger?”

 He’s getting closer to the nucleus, Edward can tell, but there are still some other red flags popping up along the way that Edward wants to address. To make sure Étienne is okay. That there isn’t some other bigger issue hidden in the shadows.

 “I mean – no, I don’t think I saw myself living this exact life when I was a teenager – then again, I didn’t think much beyond what I would be doing next weekend. But, I don’t feel suffocated by the time we spend together. We’re not always together either, even if we do work at the same place. It might be a little unconventional, but we have our own friends we see without the other and activities we do on our own. Like when I go skiing over March break and you go down south with Emma.” He tries and hopes he’s hit a mark. Étienne nods, as if reassured by this and Edward lets out a breath he’s been holding.

 “I can’t speak for the future, but right now, I’m not bored. It might not be the most exciting life, but I like it just fine... I like what we’re building together.” There’s a pause and when Étienne doesn’t say anything, he figures he’ll take a shortcut, “What’s this all really about, Étienne?”

 Étienne sighs deeply and decapitates his mound of risotto with the back of his fork. “I don’t know,” He starts and then jabs the rice, “I mean – I do, but – it’s just – we’ve been together for a while now – years, really and it’s just – I’d hate for you to wake up one morning, turn around and realise that this has been a waste. That you’ve missed out on some big adventure or something.”

 He wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He’s always considered his life with Étienne to be his big adventure. In all his wildest dreams, he’d never thought he’d get this – stability, a partner he loves and who loves him back – even when he drives him crazy.

 “When did we become boring, old queers, Ed?”

 This time, he does laugh – a soft little chuckle – and he also reaches over for Étienne’s hand to give it a squeeze.

 “I think we’re just getting older. We want different things and are at different points in our lives.”

 “Are we though? I mean – I remember when I was twenty and hitting the clubs. I had some crazy, wild fun nights, at the time. Meeting new people, staying up ‘til all hours. Hooking up. Going to one party after another. God, when’s the last time we even had drag brunch? You used to bring me to those all the time! When’s the last time you even saw your friends from drag?! Now we’re just – two people. Where’s our rebellious spark?!”

 Edward quiets. Étienne has a point. He remembers his own youth, way back when, and the crazy things he’d done. The trips with his friends to other queer cities, the drag shows he’d gotten involved with, volunteering for Pride and such. It feels like a different lifetime ago – something that could have even happened to a different person all together. Had they really done any of those things?

 “When’s the last time we even saw any of our queer friends? It’s like the only circle we’re involved in now is the teacher one. I had to find out through Facebook that Steven and Max broke up. Steve and Max!”

 There we go, Edward thinks, the nucleus.

 “If they can break up then who’s to say it can’t happen to us?”

 The news had come as a blow to both of them, really. Edward had met Steve and Max through Étienne and even then, already, they had been Steve-and-Max. They’d been together for nearly twenty years and were an inspiration, really. Despite being together, they were still active in the community, still went out, and still enjoyed life. Max had even proposed to Steve, a few years ago, and anyone who’d seen the video of the proposal had cried at how utterly sweet and romantic it was.

 “Sweetheart, listen – no one knows for sure what’s going to happen to us in the future. But I promise I’m not bored and I like being with you. If ever anything changes, I would absolutely tell you. The best we can do is to take it a day at a time and check in with each other, if ever we feel like something is off.”

 “I guess,” Étienne mumbles, “But when did it get like this? When did we get washed out?

Sometimes I feel like I’ve been erased. That any personality trait I have or had is gone. All I am is a teacher. Day in and day out. I only ever get to be myself on few occasions. Convenient periods of time pre-established by the school agenda. When did I stop being the person you met when we started dating? When we used to do things that were something else than Being a Teacher?”

 Edward doesn’t say anything. He gets it. So much. It has never fully occurred to him, but Étienne has hit the nail on the head. There have been times, when, upon reflection, he’s felt as though the institution of school has been like a closet and that he’s been forced back in it. Hiding who he is. Not being his true authentic self, but some persona. The teacher persona. Sure, he hasn’t exactly rocked the boat and announced to the school that he’s queer, but he also doesn’t want to. Because it’s his personal life. And because there’s some deep fear anchored deep within him. It might be the twenty-first century, but it’s not a walk in the park either. So he’s kept quiet. Has hidden things about himself, when once, years ago, he had never shied away from being gay.

 Therefore, M Édouard and Edward are two different people. He wonders, briefly, who gets to see the real Edward Murphy and if there’s ever been one, or if, instead, each facet is a part of the real Edward. It’s late and he’s tired. This isn’t the time or day for this type of talk or thought, yet now it nags at him as well, calling for attention.

 “We started dating over summer break – we didn’t have to worry about work and we had all the time in the world. Plus, that was years ago, we’ve also changed – we want new things now.” He tries, repeats, and hopes he sounds as convincing as he’s meant to be – as reassuring.

 “Then why does it feel like settling?”

 Why does it, really?

 “If you could,” He says instead, “What would you do differently?”

 Étienne, this time, is silent as he ruminates. “I don’t know – I mean, I guess the obvious would be to actually talk about my boyfriend when asked. All the teachers with kids keep talking about their goddamned outing apple picking and showing off pictures of their kids with the apples and whatever. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute but all I ever hear is about the kids, what happened at daycare and weekends up north. I want to talk about my night out at the club, or show pictures of me and my boyfriend on vacation, or whatever other basic human thing I’ve done with my partner without having to fear I’ll get spat at. Or something.  I want to be able to exist. Fully. Not just in parts. I don’t want to be afraid when I show the kids a new artist who happens to be queer. I don’t want to gloss over the facts. I want to wear nail polish to school if I want to. Every inane thing I never questioned before. Most of all, I just want to be.”

 Edward wonders if it would be different if there was actual tangible support they could see. If other teachers spoke about these things – about their queer friends and family – about themselves; if it would feel different and safe. He wonders how many others of their own colleagues are in the same situation and keep to themselves out of fear and he wonders about the other queer teachers who don’t even have a friend or confidant at work. He considers himself lucky, really, that somehow, Étienne managed to find work at his school – that they’ve found each other. Even when they’d only been friends. It had been a blessing to be able to confide in Étienne, then – to have someone who got it.

 “We can always try,” He says after a lapsed moment of silence, “To be more of ourselves – to test the waters, so to say. If someone’s gotta do it, why not us?” He’s not sure how it’ll look, but – they can give it a shot. Take the proverbial baby step. See how it goes.

 “I guess you’re right – just wish it wasn’t always so – exhausting.”

 They leave it at that for now and clear off the table. Once the dishes are done and the leftovers boxed up in the refrigerator, they retire to the living room. Étienne finds solace in Edward’s arms and the two spend a quiet evening replaying the previous conversation in their minds, lost in their own rambling thoughts. There’s a lot to process and they’re both painfully aware that change will take time.

 “What if we tried to actively re-engage with the community – go back to our old hangouts – call up our friends?” Edward suggests, sometime later.

 Étienne ponders this for a moment and then nods, “We might as well try.”

 They may as well. If not them, then who?

 FIN

[jaeminscoffee]

Drapetomania.

Drapetomania- An overwhelming urge to run away.

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader.

Genre- Angst, business!au

Word count- 2.73k

Warning- Mention of intake of alcohol, smoking and plans of running away.

Summary- A friend as good as ready to run away with you but you stop him dead in track, wanting solitude away from the cruelty of your world.

Ever felt like wanting to turn a blind eye towards all your responsibilities and just run away? 

The night was cold, gusty winds blowing through the open curtain of the ball room. Sounds of wine and whiskey glasses clattering filled the air. Sniffs of all sorts of cuisines from around the world had everyone's mouth watering. The entrance to the room leading up to the podium had a crimson carpet taut. All dressed fancy, women in gowns, men in tux. 

You yourself adorned a glitter black red flowing gown. Elegantly falling off your shoulder. The dress starting black, fading into red paired with a black bow heels, which was hidden by your gown pleats.

This was your life as the next head of your enterprise. Well, your father's company to be precise. It wasn't bad living in a world full of business talks, money exchange and complacency. 

Your company has earned its name as one of the top three of your country, alongside the Lee and Kim enterprises. The competition between all three companies was cut throat. All united and tranquil though, amidst all sorts of competition and the want to win, you were all acquaintances. 

All your parents dated a long time back, starting from their ancestors, passing through generations now passing onto you.

Business ran in all of your blood. 

As soon as you'd received your masters degree, your parents had immediately given you the post of the assistant manager at their company, not giving you a chance to state what your interests lie in. 

It wasn't half as bad as you'd thought it would be. You made a couple of friends going through the same as you, Lee Taeyong from the Lee Enterprise. Kim Doyoung and his younger brother Kim Jungwoo, from the Kim Corporations. Lastly, Jung Jaehyun from Jung Entertainments, CEO in training, a current partner and your fiancé. 

Yes, the Jung's and your family decided to merge ownership to create a much stronger stake.

This world, as lavish it sounds, snatches all types of freedom from you. Having money doesn't sound that bad, right? Having power sounds great, doesn't it? 

Well, it really isn't, you didn't get to enjoy the adult life you'd hoped for growing up. Not many stay beside you until you spend dollars on them either. The power either scared them or had their jealousy drive them away from you. 

Responsibilities came in one by one as a chain, giving you little to no time to breathe, adding onto that your wedding in a few months. You tried talking your way out of the arranged relationship, but it was futile. It was set once then it's set. No more turning points from there. 

The lad you're getting tied to wasn't bad, neither had he been rude to you, nor does he have that cockiness almost every other business man has. The arrogance was absent too. But rather, he was a gentleman, an absolute eye candy, a hard working young man. You were friends, as previously mentioned. You'd spoken the next day after the arrangement as you'd ran straight to the closest of your friends, Lee Taeyong, to bawl your eyes out of distaste. 

Jaehyun didn't want the marriage either, both of you were still so young, just starting your lives. 

Taeyong had to go through the same, but unlike your parents, they actually listened to him. 

That leads you to today, standing by the casement of your hotel room after exchanging a few formal greetings by the party hall, having Taeyong sit by the bed as your parents made their ments about the future of the company, possibly even announcing your marriage plan. 

"You know this hotel has a huge smoking prohibited board outside right?" Taeyong asked, clearing the air, coughing, watching you take swig after swig of your half burnt cigarette. You laugh at your friends' talks and silent complaints. This was the real you, you back talked, you screamed, you spent money on buying graphic t-shirts rather fancy clothes, you smoked, clubbed on the weekends. The real you was totally in contrast to you in front of the others. You were expected to be perfect, mannerisms on point not to disobey even.

"Yeah? And?" you said, puffing out the tobacco filled air right onto Taeyong's face, chuckling as he dramatically starts choking, exaggerating it a bit too much than required.

"I'm not going to help you when you get arrested," He said, shrugging his shoulders, standing up from the edge of the bed and standing beside you, taking the stick out of your hands, throwing it out of the window. You at him, looking up because of the height difference, "health comes first, princess" he said in feigned politeness, earning a smack on the shoulder as a reply from your end, "Oh fuck you, Lee" you reply with a petty tone having the toxic been taken from between your fingers. 

"So you dragged me all the way up to cuss at me or you have something to tell me?" he asked, breaking the silence taking over the air. You lean forward by the sill, looking outside the window as you let out a sigh, taking a whiff of the blustery night before turning towards Taeyong who already had his focus on you.

"It's about the marriage, and starting today, I-uh..I'll be taking over the company. I don't think I'm ready for it, Tae" you say, looking down at where your dress met the carpeted floor of your hotel room. 

You've had this talk with him multiple times, and he always had the same answer. What could the poor boy say anyways? 

"Y/n listen-" he was cut off by a soft knock on the door, the both of you whip your heads towards the door when the knocking occured again, "The door's unlocked!" you voice out. 

The door knob rattled the slightest, opening the wooden block by a little. "Y/n" a deep voice spoke, the door opening wider to display Jaehyun on the other end, a red velvet tux matching your clothing adorned his structure. "Jaehyun! Hey man!" Taeyong exclaimed, making his way towards the boy who stood with a wide smile after seeing his friend. "Hey Tae! Glad to see you didn't flee away from the party like you did last time" the boys laughed, embracing each other, you letting out a chuckle yourself. 

"Someone here, wouldn't let me run away until i take her along with me, I'm not stating names" Taeyong said jokingly, Jaehyun laughing at it, you poking your tongue out at the boys. 

"Can't have the spotlight taken away from the main, now can we?" Jaehyun said, the boys fist bumping at their adjoined 'tease Y/n until she's fuming' agenda. 

"Back to why I'm here, Your father's expecting you downstairs" Jaehyun looked over at you, your figure leaning against the now closed casement. "But i don't want to go down there" you reply grumpily, making your way towards the bed about to flop down, only to be stopped by Taeyong with his hands around your waist. "You're going to ruin your dress up, doll. Your mom won't let you breathe, then" he said pulling you up as you stand up right. 

"Right, almost forgot, thanks" you say, smoothing out the crease. Taeyong then pushed you towards your other friend, him catching you by your forearm. "Happy acting perfect! Oh also, all the best for the same" Taeyong said, waving as Jaehyun started pulling you out the room, ignoring your protests and whines. 

"Jae, i don't want to! They'll ask me to give speeches and you know how much i hate that!" you complain, trying to put all your weight onto the ground to make it hard for him to pull you, but he kept going with ease. "You don't really have to, we've finished that part of the day, thank the lords"

Jaehyun said, drawing a cross as you laugh at his antics. 

"Then why does father need me?" You see him pause the walk down the hallway towards the marble staircase, too fancy for your liking but already grown accustomed to it. 

"Because, they wanted to discuss something about the marriage" he said, resuming his steps. 

"What about it? There's still 7 months for it" you said, earning a sigh from the lad. This time, he stopped again, turning around to face you, gripping your shoulders in a soft, comforting grip. 

He looked at you hesitantly. Sensing something wrong, you grip his palms that rest on your shoulder, looking at him with a soft expression. "Jae.. Is something wrong?" you ask. 

"Y/n..about the marriage" he started, clearing his throat slowly then looking you straight in the eyes. "They.. My parents and yours.. They decided to.. Uh" he stopped, contemplating whether to let it out or not. 

"They decided to what? Jae just spit it out" you started to grow impatient.

"They decided to prepone our wedding"

-x-

You run down the hallway, towards the huge double doors leading to the party hall, frantically searching for your father, Jaehyun hot on your trail.

"Y/n wait up-"

"Father." you call out, finding him seated beside your mother, sipping on his whiskey. 

"Ah! If it isn't my pride! Y/n, your mom and Mrs.Jung-" he started, you cut him off. 

"Father, could i have a word with you in private?" you say, voice void of any form of emotion. 

"Of course, darling. Excuse me" he looked at the guests seated in the round table, smiling at them as you led him away from the crowd, to the hallway you'd previously run down.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He said, smile so wide it had to be fake. "You prepone the wedding?" your voice slightly quivered, crossing your fingers hoping it wasn't true. 

"Ah yes! I see Jaehyun already told you. I was thinking-" he started off again, with that honey coated voice of his. "why did you do that?" you step back, stumbling a bit. "Because the quicker the marriage, the faster the merge and more the profit, baby. It's all a full circle" he smoothened your hair out, you smack his hands away. "I'm not ready for a marriage yet, father! Two weeks? That's too early!" you scream at him, disbelief evident in your voice. "Oh of course you're ready! You're the daughter of a businessman, you're born ready!" he said, with pride, his shoulders pulled back. 

"I-i'm really not, dad. It's too soon, i don't want it. I'm going to call off the wedding-" you shakily say, turning around to make your way back to where Jaehyun stood, to be pulled back with much force. 

"Listen Y/n, It isn't about what you want or what you don't. You're ready when i say so, you get married when i say so. If you, ever, dare ruin our partnership with the Jungs, you see what you'll have to face." he said with a glare, giving you one last look before pausing to correct his bowtie, making his way back to the ballroom. 

Taeyong who had just so happened to make his way down the stairs, had unintentionally eavesdropped the entire conversation. He'd wanted nothing more than just to pull you in close, but after scanning the room, he saw your fiance standing there, by the corner, looking at Y/n then at him.

Taeyong nodded his head forward, wanting Jaehyun to come in and soothe you with comfort talks, but the latter shook his head. 

Your soon to be husband would probably be the last person you'd want to see, and so he faded back into the crowd. 

Taeyong hesitated first, having two successors seen together at a party isn't a news that should reach anyone, unless you're engaged, but seeing you let out a feeble sob, pulled his last string, and he made his way quick down the stairs, the hallway, pulling you into a tight embrace as soon as he reached you. 

"T-Taeyo-" you start between your feeble sobs, controlling yourself to not have a full on breakdown and create a scene at the party. "Shh doll, don't say anything, i heard it all" his voice calming, rubbing your back his palms in a comforting manner. "It's too e-early, Tae, i haven't even s-started living my life to th-the fullest yet and here-" you pause to inhale deeply, "-here i am, getting pulled in work after work, cutting my dreams out c-completely" you sob harder into his chest. 

"It's alright.. " he said, slowly starting to make his way out the crowded area, back up the stairs to where your rooms were located, unlocking your door upon reaching. 

"Is it? Of course it isn't Tae!" you let out louder now having the freedom to breathe normally, speak out all your pent up frustration. 

"It's just the stakes he cares about.. Not me, never has it been me and never will it be me." you spoke up before he could. 

"It was always about business. Never about me personally, and that hurts for thinking." you stop, burying your head into your palm, crying your heart out. 

Taeyong stood there, in front of you with a saddened glaze hooding his dark hazel eyes. The words you let out came from a very heartbroken, left to feel the pain alone girl. 

This is the harsh world of business and entertainment. 

He made his way closer to you, kneeling down in front of you, placing his hands over your legs to get you to look at him. No vail. 

"Y/n..doll, you see, we were forced into this world prior to adulthood, no consent whatsoever, we're just robot's basically, programmed to be perfect in all aspects." he started slow. "But there's nothing we can do about it"

With that the room went silent. The only sounds being from the loud acoustic downstairs and your sobs. 

You get up from your bed all of a sudden, sadness now turning to desperation and want for freedom. You make your way into the closet, taking out your already packed luggage, stuffing in whatever was left outside. 

"I'm really not ready-" "Y/n? What are you doing?" he said, voice panicked watching his friend throw random fabrics in. "And I'm tired of this-" "Y/n stop-" "-all of this" "Y/n-" 

"I should've done this long back-"

Taeyong grew even more panicked every second passing by, it only worsened when he saw you take the luggage and make your way towards the door. He took a hold of your hand in a tight grip as you felt the air turn black around you. It was hard to breathe with all the thoughts running through your head.

"Our world." you start, not trying to break out of his grip, slowly placing your hand over his.

"Our world Taeyong.. It's too cruel, harsh and dark even." you continue, stopping midway to look around you and then back at him, "none of us are safe in this world, none of us are happy, truly." you say removing his hands gently from the grip he had on yours.

Turning around once again, Taeyong was quicker. He caught your hands the second time, in a softer grip. 

"I know." 

"I know that our world is cruel. We don't experience the same as the others but Y/n..if you'd maybe, just maybe, -"

"Maybe if you'd let me, i could be your safe space in this harsh world" 

Taeyong stated, looking at you with nothing but sincerity. 

You contemplate for a while, option tempting. You could run away and not be alone. But that would only ruin his image. You blink your tears away, shaking your head. 

"No Tae.. You don't deserve to waste your life following me. You deserve so much better than that" you said, breaking free from his grip once again, smiling at him with a heavy heart before making your way out the door.

Taeyong felt his own eyes glaze over, watching his friend walk out the door, maybe now towards the exit and out towards freedom. 

When Taeyong looked at you, he saw a reflection of himself. A helpless, broken young adult wanting nothing more than love and solitude. 

But now that you're gone, Taeyong was left alone, with no one to confide in. 

And worse, he was left without a reflection. 

[whump-town]

“It’s a Date”

@random-ravings this is for you... I know you asked for a full blown date night but for some reason I am unable to do it to the fullest. I also don’t know enough about romantic get away but I do hope this suffices 

“Do you trust me?”

She’s not sure what level of insanity she must have been on the other night to think that her slip up at JJ’s wedding would be forgotten by her anal rentenive boss. Low and behold, here he sits in her drive-way trying to coerce her into his black jeep with the promise of a get away looming ahead of them. Of course, the details of said adventure are hidden behind the dark shades covering his soft eyes but his warm smile is pulling her in. Despite the cold knife of trust issues reminding her that he’s only being nice because he feels bad for her. 

Not because of the way he’d held her as they danced. Or the spark that her touches sends down his spine, leaving him shuddering and reaching for more. As if she’s a cigarette to place between his teeth and draw a healthy pull off of. She’s the kindest person he knows and no matter how much distance he puts between them he craves her like nicotine in his lungs. 

He always comes back wanting more.

Behind her own sunglasses, she sizes up his jeep. It’s not really what she was expecting but when is Aaron Hotchner ever predictable? Picking up the suitcase at her ankles, she shakes her head finally coming to answer the question he’d proposed upon placing the car in park. An inquiry on trust. She trusts him with her life-- with her heart-- but she doesn’t risk the reaction the truth has. “About as far as I can throw you,” she grumbles with an eye-roll and a smirk she can’t contain.

The soft chuckle that leaves his mouth has her head jerking, frowning at the sound she hasn’t heard enough of to consider he’d made it. Her reaction only makes the smile on his face grow and she stands for a loaded second just basking in the warmth that placing that smile on his face gives her. She has to shake her head to pull her thoughts back to the problem at hand-- Hotch and whatever trick he has up his sleeve. 

“So,” she tosses her bag in the back beside one that’s identical to her own. Out of habit, she bites her tongue instead of observing that ‘great minds think alike’. If Reid were here he’d conclude ‘fools seldom differ’. Hotch might not come to that same conclusion but it’s too late to tell. “Where are we going?”

Hotch takes a moment to respond. He puts the car into reverse, pulling out of her driveway in a swift but solid motion. It’s easy to forget that Hotch really is a good driver-- even if he spends a lot of government hours bashing the cars he’s driving into UNSUBs. He has a lack of regard when it comes to his own life. 

She wonders why.

“We’re on vacation time,” comes his answer, a strange crooked, care-free nature to the smile he flashes her way. There’s something youthful about it. She imagines he used to be like this all time. Quick with a joke and lighthearted before the job weighed him down. 

She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to worry at it. He hasn’t told her much about the excursions besides to dress for the weather and to bring a nice outfit for a fancy dinner. The amount of things that could mean worries her more than she’d like to admit.

He catches sight of the anxious frown she settles on his dash and decides that the gig is up. Besides, how much fun can his plans be if she’s not equally as excited? He clears his throat, “there’s this B&B that JJ always gushes about--”

Emily’s eyes light up, “The Monty House?”

He chuckles at her clear excitement. Her voice had gone up, softening considerably like the way Jack might shout-out when offered a bowl of ice cream before bed. If he’d known it would be this easy to make her happy he might have done this silly little trip a long time ago.

Actually, that is a lie. His nerves have been wracked for the better part of the last week since he made the reservation. There’s no way he could have done this without the prompting of both her ‘It’s a date’ and the dance they shared at JJ’s wedding. 

Admittedly, he can be a bit of a coward but his heart is pretty damaged. He’s not sure he can handle Emily stomping on it.

Judging from the smile lighting up her face though, heart stomping isn’t on the agenda. In fact, she could kiss him.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax as the tension leaves his body in the nervous chuckle he lets out. His hands get some blood back as his grip on the wheel loosens, his poor knuckles returning to a fleshy tone instead of bone white. “The-The Monty House,” it feels good to have that off his chest. “The whole weekend.” Of course, he won’t tell her everything he has planned. No point in spoiling the whole weekend.

He finds himself smiling. How does she do that to him? Twist his stomach in knots with her silence and then have him smiling so hard his face hurts the next second.

“Does that mean we’re stopping for road snacks?”

There are few instances when they drive to crime scenes but on occasion a crime only warrants sending two agents. It’s no secret that on those particular occasions, he prefers going with Emily. She’s comfortable in their joined silence unlike Reid who anxiously fills it. There’s no pressure to talk about his personal life like with Dave who’s endless lines of question never seem to stop. 

With Emily there is  just… ease.

And snacks. Lots of snacks.

“Check the glove compartment,” he says with a smile. He knew she’d need refreshments even for a simple two and a half-hour road trip. He knows a lot about her actually.

She raises an eyebrow and, sure enough, she finds his glove compartment filled with snacks. There’s a red gatorade along with the SweetTart Ropes, Sunchips, and Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. It’s the kind of  thing that looks like a thoughtless addition. Red gatorade is a straightforward go to drink but she knows it’s more than that. It’s the only gatorade she likes and he knows that.

Just like he knows her favorite chips are Sunchips and that she thinks PB&Js are a timeless classic. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” she smiles at the little collection of snacks in her lap. “You’re the sweetest man I have ever met.” 

Hotch feels his face get impossible hot, despite the cool air coming in through the window beside his head. He can’t look at her because he knows she’ll see the blush and the last thing he needs is giving her that power. Not when he’s got a whole weekend to spend with her and countless opportunities to bring up him blushing like a schoolgirl over a compliment. He clears his throat, “uhm, thank you.”

Fifteen minutes in and she’s already getting the better of him… good God how are the next two hours going to pan out?

“Good God!”

Her sudden outburst causes him to jump in his seat. The car doesn’t jerk or accelerate but he’s good and jostled from the comfort he’d settled in. He looks over at her, eyebrows going up as he realizes she’s looking at him. “What?”

Oh.

She looks smacked with worry, the kind that he knows isn’t going to go away easily. “When was the last time you slept?” 

There’s always the option to play dumb but from his experiance attempting to pull one over on Dave-- it’s very unbecoming. He can always tell the truth but that’s about as good of an idea as leveling his loaded service weapon to his temple. He could meet her half-way. Exclude all bits involving Beth-- that she’d broken up with him after JJ’s wedding. Something she’d been thinking about doing anyways but after seeing him with Emily there were things she, evidently, couldn’t avoid.

But he’s still got to explain how that was nearly a week ago. 

He clears his throat, pulling his sunglasses back into place-- hiding the evidence. “Uhm,” he’s really bad at buying himself time and each second that passes means another moment she’s going to weigh whatever lie he comes up with. So he settles for a truth, just not all of it. “You’re not the only one who’s had a bad week.”

There’s a soft moment of contemplative silence shared between them as Emily considers exactly what that means. It sounds straightforward enough but Hotch is admitting to something being wrong and that’s not as simple as one plus one is two. 

“Do you…” she licks her lips, unsure of exactly what it is she should do. She knows what he would say to her but the giving and taking of their relationship hasn’t been set up. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He grimaces at that offer but he realizes that’s unfair of him. He’s asked her to admit to him when she needs help. To her credit, she has on multiple occasions. So, it’s wrong to ask that of her and then put up his walls. This is no easier for her than it is for him.

“You wanna make another deal?” she asks. She reaches over and pokes him in the side with one of her candies, smiling when she bites into it. He raises an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. No matter how much time he spends with her… she never ceases to confuse and exasperate him. Even now, chewing on candy and trying to pry into his mind. “If I have to tell you when I’m having a bad day, you have to tell me.” 

He grunts, raising his eyebrows but turning his attention to the road. He hates that idea. He can’t and won’t lie about that but is that not the same ultimatum he gave her? The instances are fundamentally different-- the trauma she was reeling from was fresh in all of their minds and he could be a sympathetic ear to that. Especially, if hearing about the worst parts of her day granted her a longer stay with them.

With him.

Now, it’s a little different. The things he needs to tell her about are a lot more personal. It’s not about the connection of Foyet and Doyle-- the sheer thought of which sends a cold chill down his back. Now if she wanted to talk about that he would still be adamant but, at least, it would be helpful. 

“Aaron?”

He snaps away from his thoughts, having worked up a slight cold sweat from the directions of his thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about Foyet. That won’t help anyone. With a shake of his head he stutters a confirmation to her idea. “Uh-Yeah, s-sure.”

His eyes are on the road but he’s about a million miles away. He just keeps thinking about Foyet. 

Emily’s not sure what to do. 

Hotch is her friend. In many aspects, her best friend and as jouveline as those words are often made to sound she means it in the most sincere way. She trusts him with her life and beyond that, in ways that she’s not yet encountered. She means that when she comes to a crossroads in her life he is always there. 

Just like now, as she grapples with the decision to leave for London or stay. He’s her right-hand man and… now, she’s uncertain as to how she should repay that. 

Of how she can. 

It feels like an endless pit separating them. She starts there.

He’s driving with his left hand, leaving the right to rest limply in his lap while the other’s knuckles turn white with the tension his whole body is failing to hide. Silently, she reaches over and nudges his forearm with her hand. He scowls down at her hand, confused but he caves and moves his it.

He huffs a little when she takes his hand. Surprised more than anything else. The only hand he’s held in years is Jack’s and, even now, Jack’s getting too big for that. 

“I do mean it,” she says, giving his fingers a tentative squeeze. “You’ve heard all my stories. You know all my drama…” She smiles, just thinking about it. “I think I can handle what little drama Aaron Hotchner encounters in his day to day life.” 

He chuckles at that. It’s a good point. His life isn’t chocked full of twists and turns. Jack has some interesting moments-- mostly his bully turned best friend Paul. She already knows about that though. That leaves nothing really. What’s he so afraid of?

“Alright,” he relents, returning her gentle squeeze. He clears his throat, “but can we talk about it later? After--”

She cuts him off, “we can talk about it whenever you feel comfortable.”

Something in his chest settles and he relaxes. He doesn’t notice until several minutes later but he doesn’t pull his hand away from hers.

---------------

They were supposed to get two rooms but that’s too much to ask for and they end up in a room with two twin size mattresses an arms length away. Neither are that worried with the proximity. As far as sleeping arrangements go, this is still better than about 90% of the hotels they’ve stayed in over the years.

The problem is what might haunt them at night.

The last thing Emily wants is to wake Hotch up in the middle of the night thrashing like a heathen possessed but the freaking devil because her subconscious loves to taunt her with Ian Doyle. 

Talk about making things awkward between them.

It doesn’t seem to bother Hotch though. The first thing he does upon putting their bags at the ends of their beds is collapse onto a bed. He doesn’t move for a solid five minutes, just lays on his stomach, face down. She’s starting to worry about him-- hoping he’s just managed to fall asleep and not dead-- when he groans and sits back up. 

He runs a hand through his bedhead and Emily has to look away-- damn, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

“You up for anything on this itinerary?” 

She can’t turn around because she's very aware of the fact that he’s standing right behind her. He offers her the booklet and she takes it, unable to breathe until he takes a step back. She can hear the sound his five o’clock shadow makes as he scratches at his chin and-- good God give her a freaking break her heart can’t take this. 

“Uhm,” she keeps her eyes trained on the paper but for the life of her she can’t focus on the words. She just keeps thinking about the fact that Aaron Hotchner is about a foot away looking drowsy and soft. He looks like he’s dead on his feet. “Why don’t we just get dinner and go to bed early?”

As much as he wants to just agree with her and call it a night-- he’s adamant that she actually wants that. “Are you sure?”

She nods, “yeah. You’re tired--”

He stands, shaking his head. “No,” he tells her. “We’re here so that you can relax. I can handle whatever it is that you want to do.” He takes the booklet back, flipping through it and looking down the list. He scowls in concentration and she finds it endearing but also hardheadily aggravating. 

“Hotch, I mean it.”

He finds one and points at it, asking, “how about a massage?”

She rolls her eyes. “Aaron,” she says, folding the booklet up despite his light attempts to tell her no. “I just want to eat some dinner and go to bed.” 

He deflates a little… he wants her to have a fun time and he feels like she’s giving that up because of him.

“I mean it.” She starts to pull at her hair, raking her fingers through her thick hair to work it into a ponytail. “Besides,” she says, “JJ said they have a killer grilled cheese and I’ve been dying to find out if that’s true.”

That he believes. 

So they have grilled cheese in the room, passing small talk back and forth. Emily finds Jurassic Park on the TV and at nine thirty when he turns his bedside light off, he reassures she’s fine to leave her own. Even if it makes her feel pretty silly that she’s managed to get herself worked up over a PG-13 movie from the 90s. 

She is fighting her own fitful sleep when she hears the soft sound he makes from the other bed. Everytime she closes her eyes Ian Doyle is right there. Blood seeps between his teeth and, this time, Hotch is there too. Ian draws a knife close to Hotch’s throat, it’s bared for easy access by the tight grip Ian has on Hotch’s hair. 

She wakes just as the blade draws blood. 

Judging from pained grunt Hotch lets out, her demons aren’t the only ones coming out tonight. 

“Hotch?” She’s not entirely sure what she should do. Hotch’s hearing has been on the mend for the better part of five years. It’s not his strongest sense-- they’d all found better ways to his attention than calling out his name but right now waving a hand at him or throwing a piece of crumpled paper isn’t going to get the job done. 

“Hotch!”

She stumbles back as he sits bolt upright, his breathing ragged. For a moment, she sits stunned on her bed. Watching as he looks down at the comforter across his legs, unable to place where he is. She can hear his breathing become more distressed, a wheezing groan tearing from his mouth as he raises his head to look around.

“Hotch?”

His left hand comes up to his chest, clenching his t-shirt tight in his fist. He’s steadily working himself up. 

She stands up, calling his name softly again and frowning when he doesn't look at her. “Aaron,” she hesitates just a step from the bed. He looks up just as she stops, tears streaming down his face, and she can’t bear the sight. “Oh, sweetie.” She climbs into his bed and pulls him into a hug. He shakes in her arms and her heart breaks for him. 

He always stops and checks up on her but… what has he been hiding from them to let things get this bad?

“So, we’ve both been having some bad days.” She buries her face into his shoulder, breathing in the steady and warm scent of Hotch. She’s unable to pick apart the distinct parts of the way he smells. There’s aftershave and deodorant but also laundry detergent and… he smells the way home does. Distinct and safe. She’d know him if she were blind and deaf and scared out of her mind. 

Aaron. 

He leans into her touch but the way she holds him isn’t making it easier to breathe. Her fingers spread out on his neck, working against the way his hair grows to scratch as his scalp. He feels himself melting into her and in return, she does the same.

They’re just a puddle of humans. Welded together. Neither is able to escape the hold of either. She’s practically sitting in his lap and, in return, he’s wrapped a leg around her back. 

“Why weren’t you sleeping?” he asks, voice muffled by her shirt. He’s settled back down, able to pull in a steady stream of oxygen. It doesn't get caught in his throat. What it’s doing is letting the exhaustion creep back into his bones. He’s too weary to rest. 

Emily pauses just long enough to realize that there’s no way he’s going to believe her if she says anything besides the truth. At the same time… “Who said I wasn’t,” she whispers, wincing at just how much her voice betrays her. She moves and presses her face into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tight with the false hope he’ll let it go. 

She can feel the way he tenses, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t believe her. 

There’s still a small inkling in the back of his mind that says-- you woke her up. 

“Nightmares,” she finally answers. His fingers spread across her back, thumb trailing spine. “Doyle--” she hates the way he tenses at the mention of the other man’s name. She’d done everything to protect them and all she’d done was hurt them worse. She certainly made things worse for him. Forced him to lie to the only family he has to protect her-- a woman who lied about her career and entered his team to blackmail him.

But he eases after a moment. He rubs his hand up her back, offering her the same comfort she’d extended. 

She sinks into his chest. “Doyle was going to kill you,” she whispers. Her tears run hot and he can feel through his shirt. 

He presses a kiss to her hairline. He holds her to him, shaking his head. “It’s alright now,” he promises, throat thick. He’s painfully reminded of his own dreams. Waking up and having to scrub his hands in the sink to reassure himself that his subconscious has just been very unkind. That her blood is not caked under his nails. 

That she’s home.

Sleeping.

Alive. 

He wonders how many cadets the two of them could scare away. Tell a room full of kids-- that’s what she was when she was scouted out of college-- that taking that oath means more than they’re currently able to give. It’s the nine stab wounds on his chest. It’s talking serial killers down from suicide even when as they stand to realize the world would be a better place if they through with it. It’s demons that you can never really get away from.

“Can we just…” she wants to ask him to just hold her. To spend the night like this. She loses her nerve. Swallowing thickly around the tightness in her throat, she leans back from his shoulder. There’s only an inch of space between their faces. Her hands reach for him on it’s own accord, her thumb tracing his jawline. 

“Emily,” he whispers, his eyes moving back and forth between hers. Unable to figure out what he should do. 

She looks down at his lips, her cheeks burning. 

“I-I don’t want you to do anything you might regret,” he manages, eyes giving away the vulnerability behind the statement.

She kisses him. It’s a hungry, desperate kiss that he leans into. “Something like that?” she asks a moment later.

He nods, unable to find words. 

“Can we just lay here,” she asks. “Will you just hold me?”

He nods, can’t trust his voice. 

She trusts him though. She falls asleep in his arms. 

He lays there for the longest time. Her head is tucked under his chin and, even in her sleep, she’s holding his hand. 

The ceiling turns. 

His anxiety is creeping up but each time he gets to the point of hyperventilation she moves a little in her sleep. 

She doesn't know what she’s getting herself into.

She’s not going to love him.

Not for long.

“Aaron?” She blinks and pulls the blanket up to their chins. “Go to sleep.”

[amanda-teaches]

Prove It

Summary: A friendly competition between you and Dean escalates just a little too far.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Square filled: Laser Tag for @spnfluffbingo​ and Play Fighting for @spndeanbingo​

Word Count: 960

Warnings: Competitive Dean, playful fighting, use of the word swindler, general fluff

A/N: Here’s some fun fluff to hold you all over until the next chapter of Til Death Do Us Part? this weekend. It was written based on a request by @spngeek7983​ for my 2k challenge.

The competition had been going on for three grueling days and nights.

It started off innocently enough. Sunday night, you’d volunteered to cook dinner for the boys, running to the store for all the ingredients you needed for beef bolognese. When you got back to the bunker, you kicked Dean and Sam out of the kitchen, getting straight to work. A few hours later, a piping hot meal was sitting on the table.

“Wow, Y/N, this looks amazing,” Sam said with a warm smile, folding his tall, lanky frame into one of the chairs. Dean followed suit, breathing the smell in.

“Yeah, babe. Smells fantastic.”

Sam tasted the dish first, sighing softly with pleasure. “Wow…Y/N, this is delicious. Honestly, I think this may be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Dean scoffed in offense. “Hey! Who’s been cooking for you since you were in diapers?”

Sam made eye contact with you and grinned conspiratorially. “Sorry, Dean. I guess Y/N’s just better.”

“Pshh,” he huffed. “I bet if I cooked this thing, it’d come out ten times better.”

“Oh, really?” you laughed, more amused than insulted. “Prove it.”

And, that’s how the war started. A simple little cook-off that snowballed into so much more. Soon, it was who could down a glass of whiskey the fastest, who was the better shot, who knew more of the lore books by memory.

Very quickly, you ran out of legitimate things to compete over, so you moved on to ridiculous contests. Tonight’s was a classic: Mario Kart.

“VICTORY!” Dean shouted, throwing down his controller and tossing his hands up into the air as his car crossed the finish line. “Take that!”

“Not fair! You got to pick Yoshi first. We all know he’s the best.”

Dean snorted. “Oh, like you didn’t cheat in the marshmallow contest? I saw you squishing them together.”

You gasped, jumping up. “I did not!”

He mirrored you, jumping up and smirking as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Yeah? I guess it’s just too bad there weren’t any marshmallows here, huh?”

“Oh, you, you...swindler!” you yelled, frustration boiling over. “Maybe you should just sleep out here with your victory then.”

“Wait a second,” Dean sputtered, his smirk fading. “I beat you at Mario Kart and now you’re banishing me to the couch for the night?”

“Exactly,” you avowed, spinning around to leave, but Dean grabbed your elbow.

“Y/N, baby, come on, it’s just a game.”

You laughed. “Oh, now it’s just a game when you’re sleeping on the couch, but when you were winning...”

 “I’m sorry, okay,” Dean pleaded, his voice as smooth as honey. He put on his most charming smile and pulled you closer to him. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” He pulled his tongue between his teeth, his eyes darkening. “I’ll make it up to you, huh?”

“Hmm…” you hummed for a second, closing your eyes as you pretended to consider it. You quickly made your decision, opened your eyes, and grinned, knowing you had him now. “How about no, champ.”

His mouth fell open in astonishment. “Okay, okay.” Dean dropped his hand, changing tactics. “I know when I’m beat. How ‘bout this? One more game, no cheating, no tricks. No matter who wins, we accept it and move on with our lives, no more competition, no more grudges, and no hard feelings.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, suspecting some kind of hidden agenda after the past three days of ruthless competition and bragging. “What game?”

“Something we’re both good at.” He thought for a second before his face split into a grin. “I have just the thing.”

You cocked your gun, bracing yourself in a wide, open stance. Holding the gun to your chest, you peered around the corner, scanning from side to side.

You didn’t see Dean anywhere, but that didn’t mean a thing. He was an expert at this, and you knew he could camouflage pretty much anywhere. That was one of the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place, the jerk.

Taking a deep breath, you moved around the corner, keeping your back to the wall as you walked. You held your gun up high, staying alert as your eyes scanned every darkened corner for any sign of your boyfriend.

You’d almost made it to the next area of cover when Dean dropped out of nowhere, raising his gun up high with a shout. You kicked your leg out, sweeping his before he could shoot. As he fell to the ground, you raised your gun to his chest, firing a laser stream until all of the lights on his vest began to flash red.

“HA! I did it! I beat the great Dean Winchester at laser tag. Yes!!!!” You threw your hands up in the air and spun around, doing a little victory dance.

Dean chuckled, holding his hand out for you to help him up. “Yeah, you did, but you think you could’ve been any gentler with the take-down? I think you broke me…”

“Aw, sorry, honey,” you apologized, wrapping your arms so your hands were resting on his back. You began to massage his muscles, slowly moving lower. “I’ll make it up to you, huh?”

He grinned as your hands landed on his ass. “Mmm, good idea. You know, I think I’m getting a little too old for this play fighting stuff.”

“Oh, you’ll never be too old for me,” you breathed out, your voice turning seductive as your hands gripped him even tighter. “Want a chance to prove it?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he exclaimed excitedly, grabbing you and lifting you up, throwing you over his shoulder. “I think this is one competition I’m definitely gonna win.”

Forevers- @atc74​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @be-amaziing​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @deans-dirty-writer​ @deanwanddamons​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @dolphincliffs​ @edgeofreality35​ @emoryhemsworth​ @focusonspn​ @hannahindie​ @heyitscam99​ @impala-dreamer​ @impandagrl​ @karikatz12481​ @katymacsupernatural​ @maddiepants​ @masksandtruths​ @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @mysterious-398​ @ohmychuckitssamanddean​ @pinknerdpanda​ @roxyspearing​ @spnbaby-67​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @wi-deangirl77​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​

Dean Tags - @adoptdontshoppets​ @akshi8278​ @alexwinchester23​  @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @flamencodiva​ @squirrelnotsam​

[demigirlaroundtheworld]

I know there is fanfiction that plays after crisis, but I have yet to find one where earth prime is a better world. Like.. the superfriends of course remember everything from before. Kara, Alex, Nia, Brainy, Kelly, Johnn.. But like.. there is no constant big bad evil to fight, no imminent apocalypse, just the occasional mugger or a rouge alien to catch.

Lex is boss of the DEO, but is actually, genuinely good. No hidden agenda. He is still best friends with Kal, because Lois made them talk it out in the beginning, so he never went mad. They work together to make the world a better place, Lex even helped to put Lillian behind bars and took Cadmus down before it could anything drastic. The DEO is now a place that not only investigates in crimes with aliens, but also to find lost aliens and help them either to integrate in earth society or get back to their home planet.

With no Cadmus Jeremiah never went missing and the Danvers never lost him, he lives happily with Eliza and cannot wait to be a granddad, because Alex and Kelly are in the middle of the adoption process for a cute, little alien baby that lost their parents during the war in their old home.

Kara still works at CatCo as a reporter and only occasionally helps at the Deo as Supergirl. Kal did not just left her with the Danvers. He came by often, helped her with her powers and is more like a brother to her than anything else. Because Lex is good there was no reason to keep her that hidden, and he even helped Jeremiah build glasses and earbuds and whatnot to dampen her powers a little and make life easier for her.

There is no open xenophobia, aliens and humans just coexist and get along and help each other. Earth prime is just all around a beautiful place, except...

There is no Lena Luthor.

When she asked him about her Lex just said "What Lena? I do not have a sister Kara, you know that."

The superfriends start looking for her, but Lena Luthor does not exist in National City. She does not exist at all.

It takes them a while, but soon they find her.. Or, a version of her.

Lena Kieran lives near Dublin, Ireland. Her mother never died. It was not easy with such an intelligent child, but she made it work. Roisin Kieran is a proud Mom and does whatever is necessary to give her daughter a good life. With (not surprisingly) little work she gets Lena a fully paid scholarship in a school for especially gifted children and Lena loves it. She has her degrees for physics and bioengineering at age 20 and given the opportunity, she starts teaching at the school that gave her so much. Inventing things and wanting to change the world is great, really, and she does that in her free time, but teaching little kids who are so eager to learn, being a role model for the next generation of Nobel prize winners? That is more than she has ever dreamed of.

I would not say that Kara is stalking her per se, she is merely... observing. Yes, a longtime-around-the-clock-observation. Not creepy at all. And Lena is happy. The sheer happiness in her eyes when her students are all "ahh" and "ohh" and “How did you do that, Miss Kieran?" after Lena does experiments with them. She is happy drinking tea with her Mom, happy taking a long walk with her dog (obviously Oisin, she takes him to work and he is the official school mascot, everyone loves him. He even has a customized lab coat), happy to tinker away in the school labs after work or on weekends.

One day Kara decides she wants to talk to Lena, just talk to the woman who means so much to her still, even if she is not the Lena she knew. When she approaches Lena after school on her way home, she is confused to see Lena ducking into an alleyway, out of sight from the public. Maybe it’s a short cut, maybe Lena thinks she a mugger... What Kara did not expect when she follows Lena is to have her already crying and practically begging.

"Please do not take me away, Kara. I know I don’t deserve it, but please don’t take this from me."