#and pretty often I can hear her gossip with her coworkers

[superdupersummer]

[takes a big ass whiff of copium] You know what??? My F/Os WOULDN’T mind that I’m not very expressive!! They DON’T have problems if I don’t verbally express that I love them!! They DON’T care that I don’t always express myself in more conventional ways because they KNOW that even if I don’t express it explicitly I DO love them!! [takes another big ass whiff of copium] COUGH cough HACK holy shit look at this

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

My boss: You have a girlfriend? How did I not know?

Me: We've been together for two and a half years, so that's kind of on you

My boss: You could've been married with six kids and I wouldn't know

[sunshineandspencer]

Friendly face (Part 3)

A/N: I know I said I always succumb to peer pressure, but that did not need to be tested. Also if I did a Hotch(or Spencer) taglist, would anyone be interested, also.. how do you do a taglist?? I may be 20 and from the UK, but I have only been using tumblr for about two months, I’m learning (slowly). [I’ve made a form for a taglist!! it’s underneath the parts!!]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Receptionist!Reader.

Summary: Little does the team know, their little receptionist and their Unit Chief had been closer for a lot longer than any of them knew. And while he’s brilliant at hiding it, she is now.

Word Count: 825

Warnings: please, stop requesting the fluff it hurts my little heart

part 1! and 2!!

be added to the taglist!!

Honestly, she could come to work with a massive neon sign floating above her head saying ‘stupidly in love with Aaron Hotchner’ and it would have probably the same effect as she normally does to him.

While he goes through the rules, needing to check about whether their relationship - yes, relationship - was actually legal, they needed to keep it secret.

A serious conversation they’d had over dinner well over six months ago, one that she’d seem to conveniently forget whenever they were actually in the office together. Thankfully that isn’t very often, unless he’s personally asked for files she stays by her desk.

Sometimes, he will admit, he requests reports just to get her into the office, but not very often.

However, it seemed to have been just often enough for his coworkers - Emily, mostly - to realise. From there, and after getting everyone else to join her, they were trying to find exactly how much the pair actually cared for each other.

Crowding together at the round table, quickly giving everything they’d noticed before Hotch arrived.

Emily starts, grinning at both Morgan and Spencer, nothing better than a bit of office gossip.

“So, she doesn’t hide anything. But, we’re all well aware that he sometimes uses excuses to get her into his office. But I noticed that she always leaves post-it notes on the files that she does give him, and they do look sickeningly sweet. It’s hard to believe Hotch actually likes that.”

Spencer chimes in, wringing his fingers lightly. He loves gossip as much as the next person, but the receptionist is a sweetheart and treats him so kindly, plus he doesn’t really believe in talking about other people’s business.

However, he’s invested in her happiness, and knows that there’s more to the pair than meets the eye.

“Well.. he smiles at her, more than I’ve ever really seen. And he does things for her that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He helped her set up her desk and made sure she settled properly with the team.. plus Penelope found the paperwork and he requested her to be moved up.”

“What?! She didn’t tell me that!” Morgan looked pretty dejected, and Emily could only pat his back apologetically. But as much as they want to say that Morgan is her favourite, Spencer is everyone’s favourite.

He just shrugged, and Morgan kept talking, needing to add in what he’d seen - and profiled - about the two of them.

“Whatever. We’ve all seen how smitten Jack is with her, kid practically has hearts coming from his eyes. And I heard them talking about her having stayed over on the weekend. And we all see the way Hotch is with the two of them, it’s like the past decade of the job lifts off him.”

They all eventually came to the agreement that they believed that Hotch and their receptionist were together, and they needed to know more. The achilles heel of most profilers, the desire for gossip whenever they can get it.

Hearing footsteps approaching, they quickly nominated Spencer to ask Hotch, panicking the younger agent as he spluttered over his words.

As Hotch stepped through, with her following close behind, files in her hands as she waited for Hotch to take them. Waving to the rest of the team happily, very grateful the images weren’t on screen yet. Emily booted Spencer under the table and he jolted, getting Hotch’s attention.

“Hotch!” His voice cracked, how cute. “I uh- we, we wondered if you and uhm.. if you two--”

Christ, she wanted to take pity on the poor boy, looking up at Aaron. Thankfully he seemed amused rather than irritated that they’d worked it out. Looks like they got their answers on whether or not the relationship was allowed.

He nodded at her softly and she grinned, leaning up to peck his lips quickly, stuffing the files into his hands.

“Let me know if you take the case?”

“I’ll text you.”

Grinning, she winked at Spencer, which earned her a warning “sweetheart”, which only fed into her giddiness now that they didn’t have to hide it. Loving the surprised looks on their faces, even though Morgan was definitely acting as if he knew the whole time. Exactly as Aaron said he would, god she loves that he knows them so well.

“Stay safe you lot. Bring my boyfriend home safe or I’ll hunt you down!”

As she walked out of the briefing room, she smacked Aaron’s ass and scampered off giggling, being followed with his scolding voice.

“Dove.”

Eventually, he had to turn back around to his grinning teammates - bar a very embarrassed Spencer who now avoided his boss’ gaze - he sunk into his chair. Waiting for whichever one was going to say something first.

Emily, of course, was the one to speak up first, looking at him all innocently as if she didn’t know damn well what she was doing.

“Dove~?”

“Don’t push it.”

Want more?! Good!

[rinstagrams]

seeing you tonight... it's a bad idea, right? content: ex!gojo x reader, language, suggestive (16+), mentions of sex w/c: 1.4k

♬ bad idea, right? by olivia rodrigo.

“hey, shoko invited us over for drinks and gossip.”

you hardly hear what utahime suggested, too busy typing away on your phone. your eyebrows furrow at the latest text sent, nearly outright ignoring your coworker and friend. “can’t,” you say after a moment’s pause. “plans.”

it’s not very often that you and utahime get sent out on missions together, let alone in tokyo. she hardly gets away from her teacher work in kyoto, but the curse you’d been sent to exorcise today in tokyo was perfect for her technique and yours. since the trip back to kyoto is a bit long, you’ve both opted to stay the night. it’s pretty standard that you would stay with shoko on a night in tokyo. but recently…

utahime raises an eyebrow at you curiously, standing behind you to peek over your shoulder at your phone. “plans?”

“yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. “i have something to do.”

“i think you mean someone to do.”

“what? hey!” you exclaim, trying to sound indignant. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“oh, so gojo didn’t just send you his new address?” 

“stop snooping!” you say, locking your phone and holding it close to your chest out of view. the look utahime gives you, however, is unavoidable. damn her and that damn teacher look of hers. you sigh, shoulders deflating. “i really don’t wanna hear a lecture right now. can you save it for the train ride back?”

“i’m not gonna lecture you.” but the look she gives is really enough to have you feeling like a scolded child. “but i thought after last time, you said you were done with him.”

“i know he’s my ex,” you say, picking at your nail. “but can’t two people reconnect?”

since your break-up a year ago, you and gojo have avoided each other at all sorcerer events. it’s kind of funny, seeing the lengths the two of you will go to avoid each other. but nonetheless, in the end, you always find yourself with him in tokyo behind closed doors. up until now, you thought you’d done pretty well at keeping it a secret… guess not.

“you don’t reconnect with gojo satoru of all people. i still can’t believe you dated him, he’s a selfish prick.” that much is true, you think to yourself. but despite how self-involved and cocky he might be to everyone else, he’s… not so selfish in bed, to say the least. “he’s not even that hot.”

“i’ve seen hotter,” you hope that maybe agreeing with her in hating gojo will lighten the load on you. instead, she narrows her eyes at you and says, “you’re not getting back together, are you? because i’ll slap some sense into you right now.”

“i only see him as a friend.” biggest lie you’ve ever said. 

utahime actually snorts, very uncharacteristic of her. “sure, sweetie. let’s see how you feel after a glass of wine and a lay with gojo satoru.” you groan and shake your head, refusing to admit to yourself the truth of his words. 

“nothing will happen.”

“yeah, sure,” she says, completely disbelieving of you. “and what’ll be your excuse when you wake up in his bed?”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “tripped and fell.”

-

when you pull up to gojo’s new building, a penthouse on the top floor of a tall apartment complex, you’re not surprised at the text that tells you to just come on up. stupid satoru, not even bothering to walk you up. 

he’s stupid, rude, and hardly chivalrous. you know that this is a bad idea, and you’ll probably regret it in a few days when the mortification settles in, but for now, who cares? 

you don’t even knock, because satoru already has the door open. he leans his tall figure against it, arms crossed over his broad chest wearing a smile on his face. his hair is a little disheveled, glasses hanging low on his nose, and you can already smell the familiar scent that tells you he just had a shower. 

“satoru.” you remember your words with utahime earlier. you’re sure you’ve seen much better looking men than this white, gangly string bean, but for some reason, you can’t really remember when. 

“hey, beautiful. mission went okay?” the care in his voice makes you remember the way he used to fuss over you when you were dating. you roll your neck out, nodding. “yeah,” you tell him. “neck hurts like a bitch, though.”

“let me help you with that,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. you place your stuff down and already as the door shuts, satoru brushes your hair to one shoulder. quickly, his hands work on your shoulders to massage the small knots out from your muscles, even without you asking. it feels good; for someone whose technique revolves around not touching people, he’s still surprisingly good at massages. 

“thanks,” you say, voice soft. 

“anything for you. you worked hard.” his voice is low, and after a few moments, you feel soft kisses pressed to the back of your neck. on your jaw. down your shoulders. you nearly shiver beneath his touch.

“seriously, satoru? straight to it, huh. i can’t shower, first?” you laugh, voice a little breathless as he brushes his tongue over your sweet spot on your neck.

“i figured we could do a second round in the shower.” 

you laugh and close your eyes, relaxing into his touch as his hand comes around to pop open the button on your jeans. your last thought before you give in is, here we go again. 

-

you wake up in the morning to the light shining in through the windows, but also to the buzzing of your phone. as you rub the sleep from your eyes, you curse. shit. four missed calls from utahime. she’s so gonna kill you at the train station. 

stifling a yawn, you start to shuffle in bed, standing to gather your clothes. before you can swing your legs over the bed however, you feel a tug by the waist. over your hips, satoru has a strong arm to pull you back in. a sleepy groan leaves him. “don’t leave,” he whines like a kid. 

“i have to go back to kyoto,” you tell him, trying to tug yourself free to no avail. 

“stay.” a strong pull drags you back to bed with him, and your back is pressed smugly to his chest. his chin hooks on your shoulder and you feel him poking at the back of your thigh. “i’ll teleport you back later.”

“satoru,” you say, tone chastising. “i really don’t have time for a morning quickie.”

behind you, he sighs. the mood seems to have dropped now, his playful childish tone now gone from seconds ago. “i’m not talking about sex. i just want you to stay. i’ll make you breakfast.”

“you know that’s not what we do. we agreed that when we were gonna do this, it wasn’t gonna be like before.” before, when you were dating. before, when you had so many problems that couldn’t be solved with just sex. now, at least you can still have the sex without the relationship baggage. 

“i miss you.”

a sigh leaves you, and you turn to face him, his arm still around you. when you meet his eyes, they’re no longer sleepy, but serious. “satoru,” you call his name, sounding serious. “you shouldn’t say those things.”

“but i do. miss you, i mean.” he sighs. “i miss seeing you more than just every few months for a fuck. i wanna see you in the mornings, and on the weekends.”

all you can do is sigh. he goes on, “we were good, weren’t we? i miss you, and i know you miss me too. i wish we could give it another try. i’m not just saying it because of last night, but… i’ll be better. i’ll really try. i’ll come every weekend, we can go on dates all the time. i’ll be less annoying.”

“that might be hard for you,” you mutter. it’s an insult, but it shows to him that you’re beginning to open up to it, and that brings a smile to his face. a beautiful one, his blue eyes filled with mirth and not obstructed by glasses or a blindfold. 

“and you’ll work on not being mean to me, right? we’ll be good together. will you give me a second chance?” 

the two of you never worked out, and you know that for yourself. you know the problems behind it all, but what a fool you were to think you could be satisfied with just this. the two of you butt heads always, but maybe it’s worth it for moments like these. it’s a bad idea but… you’ve never been fond of good ideas. 

a heavy breath leaves you, but you can’t hold back the smile. “okay.” he grins, and it’s wonderful. oh, utahime’s going to kill you.

[xofanfics]

Lost for Words - Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III

Genre: angst, fluff, smut 🥺🤗🥵

Pairing: Reader x Kun // Reader x Taeyong

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You have the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for. Things take an interesting turn as you befriend your new coworker, exploring the blurred lines between friendship and something more.

Taeyong’s thoughts revolved around you for the rest of the weekend and for the three weeks that followed. He found himself thinking about you more and more as the days went on, even outside of work. They started out as simple thoughts; just flashbacks at how beautiful you’d looked that morning. Then the thoughts got a little more complex. He’d look at menus and think about all the foods you told him you liked. He’d make a note to himself to tell you all about it and give you that recommendation. But then he took it even further by imagining himself taking you there someday, on a date. He wondered what it would be like to kiss you, to hold you so close that he could easily smell the scent of your perfume. 

He hated the fact that you weren’t single. He hated the fact that you had a boyfriend. He hated the fact that he had absolutely no chance with you. He knew he had no right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help himself. His thoughts and feelings were just that - thoughts and feelings, where they would remain in his mind and heart until he decided to move on. An even more delusional side of him even wondered if there was the possibility of you and your boyfriend breaking up.

It was pretty early on into their relationship, but he knew that he could see himself with you. It’d been a month and a half and he felt like you’d gotten considerably close with him. The team was pretty close, in general, though, so Taeyong had a hard time understanding if this was how you acted with everyone. 

Today, he had a meeting with you to discuss his findings from a marketing campaign that just ended. You would normally have this meeting with the rest of the team, but Taeyong honestly just wanted to have some time alone with you. He presented it to you under the guise of wanting to give you the information as soon as possible. He insisted that he’d just do the full presentation next week, once Valentina had returned from her maternity leave. 

The two of you didn’t have meetings alone often, so Taeyong was enjoying every second of it. He watched as you listened to his findings. He loved how attentive you were and how you always had a question or two. Plus, the longer you talked, the more time he got to spend with you. 

He was well aware that you were his coworker. He knew that you should probably stay that way, but he couldn’t help feeling so drawn to you. Even your other team members praised how well you worked together. Workplace relationships were almost always a bad idea, right? But in the delusional side of Taeyong’s mind, he thought that he could make it work whether anyone knew about it or not. Of course, he would prefer no one knowing. He wouldn’t want you to be the target of gossip. Even if they were just words, Taeyong knew all too well how hurtful words could be. 

“I hope that all made sense,” he said, “but I think that audiences responded really well to the new templates we used for the email. We tested two different ones but it seemed like the new one performed better.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. We can definitely try that for new products moving forward. I think the new template was easier to read, with more white space.”

“I think that maybe changing up the templates on social media would also be helpful. I’d love to test that as well. I can bring up that idea in the larger meeting next week. How does that sound?”

You nodded. “That would be great. Thank you for your help on this. It really helps to go over this information.”

“No problem,” he said as you turned toward the door. He could see your coworkers gathering by the entrance. “By the way, are you joining everyone for lunch? I hear they’re trying a new soup place.”

You shook your head. “Nah. I’m not really in the mood for soup.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

You chuckled. “Honestly? I was thinking of going to the convenience store and having lunch there.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, joining in your laughter. 

“What’s wrong with the convenience store?”

Taeyong shrugged, teasing. “I mean, nothing…I guess.”

“Wanna join?”

“Sure,” he said. “It’s hump day, the perfect time for a cheat meal.”

You giggled as Taeyong opened the door for you. 

*

You enjoyed Taeyong’s company a lot, you realized. You felt like you could be yourself with him around. He was friendly with everyone, of course, but it seemed like you had a lot in common with him. Everyone at the office seemed to like him, too. He was a breath of fresh air, honestly. 

You talked about a lot of things but it seemed like you were having deeper conversations today. You talked about your childhood and how your parents struggled to put you through college and how you never knew until your parents told you that they were selling the house. The three bedroom home that you and your sister had known your whole lives was sold and they moved into a smaller home, further from the city. You told him how you always felt bad about it and how you should’ve gotten a job despite your parents telling you you didn’t need to. 

“Hey,” he said, noticing the melancholic aura, “none of those things are your fault…”

“I know,” you said, “but I wish things had been different back then.”

“If you could change one thing in the past, would it be that?”

You nodded. “I would’ve worked so they didn’t have to sell the house.” You turned to him after taking a bite of your noodles. “Is there anything you would change?”

Interestingly enough, Taeyong shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Noticing your surprised face, he added, “Life sucked a year ago, I’ll admit, but I wouldn’t be where I am today. And I like the way things are going in my life right now. I mean, I like the work I’m doing and I have a team that respects me. I’m also moving into a much nicer apartment in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s amazing. Do you need anything for the apartment? I’d love to get you something.”

“I was debating on having a housewarming party after I move in, actually.”

“You should! It would be fun.”

“I have a few friends that would be able to come. And I’d love to invite a couple people on the team, too. My friend, Hwan, would probably bring his girlfriend. You can bring yours, too, if you want.”

“Yeah,” you said, “I’d be down to come.”

***

Valentina had returned from her maternity leave, a month later, with fresh energy. Among the team, she found herself naturally drawn to Taeyong. His intelligence and unwavering enthusiasm for learning resonated with her deeply. Valentina had always held hard work in high regard – after all, it had propelled her to her current high-level position at the youthful age of thirty-three. Life was starting to come together for her; she was recently married and had welcomed her first child into the world. With her momentum, a promotion within the next couple of years seemed well within reach.

As she entered the meeting room, the soft sound of her heels pierced the air. Her lips curved into a warm smile as she greeted the room with a confident "Good morning." Setting down her cup of coffee, she took her designated seat at the head of the table.

“Morning, Valentina,” you said.

“Does anyone need to dial in today?” asked Taeyong, “We should set up the video conferencing.”

“I think it’s just Hina working from home today,” you said. “She had to have a repairman come in to fix her plumbing.”

Taeyong nodded and went to the computer to set up the camera. Then, David walked in with his laptop and a grin. He sat down at the other end of the table. 

A moment later, Taeyong had set everything up and Hina was on the screen. She waved to everyone and Valentina began.

“I called everyone here this afternoon to provide an exciting update. We understood that a few of you mentioned wanting to attend more conferences and conventions taking place in the industry as we went through last quarter’s employee survey,” she explained. “Due to the number of people that requested, we intend on buying extra tickets for those that are interested in attending. It would be a great opportunity to learn more about our competitors and attend keynotes. This is a new initiative for the company’s commitment to professional development.”

The room was filled with excited chatter and agreeable nods as she went on. She continued, “David and I will be presenting our upcoming product launch, along with a few other high level members of the company. The convention will be taking place in Incheon at the Songdo Convensia Center and we will be staying at the Hanuri Lotus Hotel, which is within walking distance to the convention center. If you’re interested in accommodations, of course, be sure to let us know. It’s coming up next month, so please make decisions soon. I’ll send out an email to follow this meeting with all the necessary information!”

Following the announcement, anticipation filled the air, a collective enthusiasm rippling through the team members. 

By lunchtime, it was all anyone could talk about. As you, Hina, Taeyong, and Kevin stepped out for lunch, the topic of conversation was the conference. It was taking place in the next three to four weeks. Thankfully, you hadn’t made any plans. Kun had mentioned taking a trip at the end of the summer, but that would have to wait.

"I didn't see that coming," Kevin commented, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I mean, we never have the budget for anything…"

Taeyong chimed in, sounding intrigued. "Seriously? You think so?"

Hina joined the conversation with a sarcastic smile. "Oh, absolutely. They're all about decking us out with the latest tech, but when it comes to travel and conferences, suddenly there’s no money" She let out a slight eye roll before returning to her noodles.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah. They’re usually super strict about budget but I hope this means they’ll invest in us a little more so we can get promoted.”

Taeyong turned to you. “Is getting a promotion hard here?”

Kevin shook his head. “Not necessarily, but I think there’s more room for it now that the marketing and creative teams have been expanding. Honestly, the place was a mess before Valentina came. I’ve been here for about four years and Valentina has been here for a little over two. I went from an intern to a full time employee.”

“Me and Y/N came after. Valentina hired us both.”

Taeyong nodded. “Are you guys going to go to the conference?”

"Absolutely!" The collective response came almost in sync, a chorus of agreement filling the air.

Taeyong let out an airy laugh. “Well, I guess I’ll see you all there.”

***

Despite going into the office everyday, it still seemed like you had nothing to wear. You sifted through your closest, unsatisfied with almost all of the options available. Too business casual, you thought. Not fashionable enough. This was a conference, after all, and you needed to present yourself in a better way. With these sorts of events, you never knew who you’d meet and what opportunities could arise. It’s not that you were looking to leave the company, but you never knew where life would take you.

You started browsing online, looking for more fashionable pieces to add onto your weekend fashion itinerary. Kun placed a mug of chamomile tea on the coffee table for you and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Still looking for an outfit?” he asked, taking his place next to you on the couch.

You nodded. “Yeah. I saw this really nice pantsuit. Wanna see?”

“Sure,” he said as you went ahead and pulled it up on the screen. “What do you think?”

“I think it’d look gorgeous on you,” he said, “but four hundred dollars?”

“That’s the cost of beauty, babe.”

At that moment, he pulled out his wallet and handed you his credit card. “Buy it. I’d love to take it off of you,” he said, giving you a suggestive grin.

“I’ll be in Incheon, babe,” you explained, taking the card.

“Well, you’ll be in a hotel room, won’t you?”

“I don’t know if we’ll have roommates or not…”

“Well maybe I’ll just have to book a room of my own then,” he said, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Would you come to visit me?”

***

Taeyong looked at himself in the mirror after he got out of the shower. He sighed, unsatisfied. I need to get back in the gym, he thought. With all of what came with moving from one apartment to the other, he’d been busy trying to get back into his routine.  

Most evenings after work, he was too tired to unpack more than a few boxes. The more he unpacked, the more he wished that he’d hired someone to do this. But he was almost there. It’d been a little over two weeks since he moved in but he somehow found himself living out of the boxes instead of unpacking properly. 

But between the convention coming up and the housewarming he was planning, he needed to put some pep in his step. 

He reached for his new moisturizer, courtesy of their generous employee discount. He heard his phone vibrate on the sink as he applied it but he didn’t bother looking, as he figured it was just a random notification. 

A few moments later, he was sitting on his bed in a pair of shorts. He picked up his phone with a smile as he realized that you were the one who texted him. 

Y/N [9:12PM]: I got your invitation earlier. I RSVP’d with a plus one! 

Y/N [9:12PM]: Btw, do you have a registry?

Taeyong [9:13PM]: You don’t need to buy anything. You guys coming is more than enough!

Y/N [9:16]: I’ll get you something you won’t expect haha

He hated the fact that he’d brought up inviting your boyfriend. But what did he expect? For you to not ask him and for him to not show up? Of course, you’d probably want him to meet your friends. But maybe it would serve as a reality check. Maybe seeing you with your boyfriend together would snap him out of it. Maybe it would snap him out of it so he could realize that he couldn’t have you. Maybe it would be the push he needed to go out on dates so that romance with you wouldn’t even cross his mind.

But, his heart still thumped at the thought of you coming anyway. He couldn’t wait to impress you with his event. He wanted you to taste his cooking. For the past couple of weeks, he’d made note of all the things you mentioned you liked or food he’d seen you eat. So far, it seemed like one of your favorite things to eat was dumplings. And, when you could, you’d opt for seafood. When you went out, he noticed that you’d choose seafood noodles over beef or chicken. He had some ideas of what to put on the menu, for sure. 

He hadn’t had the opportunity to hang out with you outside of a work setting. Sometimes he’d get a drink with you and Hina after work but there was never a time when he hung out with you on a Saturday or a Sunday. It had been about three months since he met you, so he supposed that this wasn’t unusual. If anything, he’d have to tread a little more carefully since he worked with you. He knew that people didn’t always care to be friendly and hang out with their coworkers outside of a work related event, but you struck him as the open-minded type. Hell, you’d opened up to him so much already, which had been a bit of a surprise. 

The conference was also coming up. He was excited to go, in general, but he was also excited to potentially spend time with you. He’d never been on a work trip like this before but he was excited. Kevin was apparently already making plans for them to go out at night, after the conference and team dinner. 

He fantasized about getting you alone, just to talk to you without everyone there. He knew that there was a line that couldn’t be crossed. But he genuinely enjoyed talking to you. There was no harm in that. Even if he sometimes looked at your lips and wondered what they tasted like. Even if he sometimes thought about the sweet things he’d whisper into your ear if he could. Even if he wondered what would happen if you hugged him and he didn’t let you go. After all, there was no harm done in his wonderings.

***

General Taglist: @to-all-the-stories-i-love​ @sweetnspicy-noona​

THANK YOU FOR READING! LMK if you want to be tagged in the next part!

[jelzorz]

144.

related to but does not follow on from this doodle

Callum has always been wary of the word quiet (and all of its synonyms) while working the night shift, but if there was one word to describe the state of tonight's Emergency Department, it would be (he hesitates and glances at the glass sliding doors just beyond the triage window) quiet as the fucking grave.

There are two of them tonight: him and the other intern, Rayla, who's chugging a coffee on the other side of the nurses' station and avoiding the eye of Viren, the on-call ED consultant, who's grumpy at the best of times and thinks coffee on the floor is trashy and unprofessional. They're on shift together relatively often, which is nice, because Rayla is friendly (and unfairly pretty for someone in wrinkled scrubs with permanent bags under their eyes), and at the very least, she makes these shifts less horrible for everyone involved. She's friends with all the nurses (even if Opeli, the nurse unit manager, finds her humour exhausting); she's on good terms with the Soren the paeds resident (they play soccer together apparently), and so far, she's only had to ask Viren to consult once, which is a feat in and of itself.

Callum likes to think that he and she are pretty good friends, but he would be lying if he said that's all he wanted them to be. She's just...

Soren sidles up to him and sets an elbow on his charts. "Out of your league?"

Callum scowls and shoves Soren off the bench. The fluorescents flicker above them, and Soren snickers and jabs a finger at the roof. "Careful," he teases. "They'll take that out of your pay."

Callum scowls again. "What are you even doing here? Paeds ED is that way."

"Yeah, it's empty, I'm not hanging out there by myself." He clucks his tongue and checks his pager for good measure which, unsurprisingly, has nothing for him. "I don't get you," he adds, twirling a pen between his fingers. "You guys are supposed to be friends. Why don't you just ask her if she wants to go out with you?"

"What are you, twelve? No one does that anymore."

"You can try Netflix and chill isntead—"

"Soren." Callum buries his head in his charts as a couple of nurses walk past in an effort to hide the redness rising in his cheeks. "Stop. You're gonna tell the whole hospital at this rate and, in any case, it's none of your business."

Soren raises an eyebrow. "Are you twelve?"

"No," says Callum shortly. "I'm professional, and it's not a good look to date your coworkers. Besides." He flushes some more. "You said it yourself. She's out of my league."

"You really are twelve, holy shit." Soren barks out a laugh, and Callum sinks further into his desk chair like it might help him disappear into the floor. Rayla, thankfully, hears none of it, because she's got an earphone in and what looks like a podcast playing on her phone. "Listen. I'm gonna give you some advice."

"Good lord," groans Callum. "What advice could you possibly give me that would help?"

"Hey, I'll have you know that I'm good just as good at wooing women as I am with men—"

"Please stop."

"And it's not that unprofessional if you disclose it—"

"To who? Your dad?"

Soren cuffs his shoulder. "Just talk to her," he snaps. "Okay? It's literally not that hard. Just ask if she wants to get a coffee with you in the morning or something. You're killing the whole department with all your pining."

Callum snaps his mouth shut. He—somehow—flushes more. He sputters. "What do you mean the whole department—?"

"Yeah, we've all got eyes, dude, what do you think the nurses gossip about?"

Callum groans and sets his forehead against the desk, the charts cool against his skin. Highschool feels like it was a lifetime ago, and he'd been so grateful to get out but somehow—

Soren's pager beeps. He glances at and grins—which Callum doesn't think is the most appropriate reaction until Soren shows him the message on the screen:

Got u snacks. Waiting out front. --Corvus

Callum gives him a look. "Isn't that a hospital pager?"

"It's the paeds pager, A.K.A, I'm the only one that uses it, A.K.A, my boyfriend can message me on it if he wants." Soren slips it back into his pocket and fixes his hair using the reflection in nurses' station window. "If only you had a girlfriend who could page you," he says wistfully, sarcastically, and Callum has never wanted to throw his own pager at him more. "Talk to her," he says. "I have money on you. Don't let me down." He grins. He winks. He heads out the double doors and into the waiting room, leaving Callum alone at his desk with the pile of charts he still hasn't reviewed.

The fluorescents flicker tiredly. He sighs. Maybe coffee isn't such a bad idea.

[tryst-art-archive]

???

I genuinely have no idea what this one even is, but I apparently made it in February 2008!

              Oce stares at the horizon blankly; he has his thinking face on and though he looks to be staring intently, he isn’t seeing anything. He is perfectly zoned out. I don’t disturb him. Oce is more likely to listen to you after he’s finished zoning out. If you don’t let him snap out of it on his own, he’ll start zoning while you’re talking; he’ll respond like he’s listening, but his voice will sound dead and he probably won’t remember what was said afterward.

              Besides, I don’t have anything to say.

              There isn’t a lot for Oce and I to talk about. We’ve been friends since we were little – Oce is short for Oceanus, my nickname for him. A nickname for a nickname… kinda silly, huh? He got into mythology in an obsessive sort of way while we were in elementary school and dragged me partway into it. I started to call him Oceanus back then and he’d call me Gaia and we’d laugh. His nickname stuck, if in a shortened form, and most people call him Oce. Nobody besides us know where it really comes from, though. He sometimes still calls me Gaia, but more often he says Leto. Says it seems to fit better for high school. I guess I agree. Leto, titan goddess of the unseen is a pretty good  name for someone no one can name.

              But I don’t mind. They leave you alone that way.

               Oce mumbles something and I inquire, “Hm?”

              He’s not done zoning out yet, so his head only half-turns toward me and his eyes stay fixed on the horizon. He speaks slowly, but audibly this time. “I’m just wondering if Hera’s free tomorrow night.” He calls her Hera. Thinks I don’t realize he thinks of himself as Zeus. Thinks I don’t know he’d call her Aphrodite if that didn’t make his infatuation obvious. I call her other things in my mind. Nephtys, Medusa, Hekate, Hel, and bitch are just a few. My favorite is Theia, though. Titan goddess of seeing versus Leto… It’s funny, or I like to think it is.

              I push it aside and shrug. “I dunno. Last I heard, she’d broken up with Dionysus.” We call him that ‘cause he’s drunk all the time and Dionysus and wine… It suddenly occurs to me that we’re terribly mean, the two of us.

              “Oh.” I don’t miss the smile, but I let him think it doesn’t bother me. He knows I catch more gossip, and more accurate gossip besides, than he does because people don’t see me. I can hear the truth of a rumor first-hand and supply it when it is necessary because no one notices my presence. Oce thinks it’s handy and I agree.

              But mostly I think it’s sad.

              His mind wanders away from him again. I briefly wonder if he’d keep on thinking like this if I could read his thoughts and he knew it. For shame, I think. Don’t be cruel to your friend. I try not to think and, naturally, it doesn’t work. I try to examine a nearby grasshopper to keep myself from thinking. I’m suddenly very tired.

              He snaps out of his zone; shakes his head, blinks fast, stretches, rubs his eyes, yawns. It’s as though he was sleeping. Oce grins at me and in my head I see him grinning that way but as the little boy who taught me the Egyptian gods before I knew anything about Jesus or “the Lord, our God.” The thought pushes my guilty hurts aside to let a return smile come through.

              “Wanna get something to eat?” he says.

              “Sure,” I reply.

             

              Pete’s is a small pizza joint with a couple of guys cooking greasy pizza and selling soda that has way too much sugar in it. Pete and his boyfriend and coworker Joe live above the restaurant. Their business does moderately well – well enough for them to get by, anyway. Some people won’t come because they can’t stand the queer vibes. Others come because they like the pizza, and some of us come just to watch Pete and Joe and share some laughs with them. Oce and I are of the last.

              We order a small plain pizza because I can’t stand to have anything on my pizza and neither of us can ingest more than a slice or two of Pete and Joe’s pizza without getting sick. We greet Pete who’s behind the counter today and ask for our usual before taking a seat at our favorite booth. There’s a couple of middle schoolers sitting there, but they clear out when they see us coming. The table might as well have a “Property of” sign on it with our names. Pete brings the pizza over and chats with us for a bit. We all go through the ritualistic “How’s work?” “How’s school?” with the appropriate answer of “Shitty” and inquisitive facial expressions to match, and like every other time, we all chuckle. A number of the customers leave and Joe comes over to sit, too. He asks if we’re going out yet and we laugh and say “Of course not!” But Joe’s good at reading people, and he shares a glance with me, like he always does. I think he’s got a sixth sense about some things.

              More people show up and the pair grin and leave us to eat our food. We watch them in the kitchen while we eat. They take orders, they cook, and whenever they pass each other they share a look, a peck on the cheek, or they bow at each other and laugh. They are always grinning. I love them for it. I love them for being themselves so freely, so finely, so happily. I love them for laughing.

              We finish eating and try to guess how wide the pool of grease on the plates are, then wave a farewell to our friends and head out into the crisp, cool air. I hunker down into my sweatshirt, but Oce seems unbothered by the slight chill. I can see my breath yet he can’t be bothered to zip his jacket up. I roll my eyes at him and we laugh.

              There’s an arcade a few hundred yards from Pete’s and we head there automatically. We don’t need to discuss it because it’s what we always do. People from school walk by and greet Oce. Few even glance at me, and those that do seem weirded out by my presence. They act almost as though I were some alien creature. I avert my eyes. Look at the ground, look at the wall. Just pretend to be fascinated by the fading advertisements for a florist long since departed from the mortal coil. Oce doesn’t seem to notice. He’s one of those attention-whore types who are just awesome anyway. They deserve to be loved by every living thing because they’re just that great, but still, they’re attention whores and you can never really be sure if you really are their friend.

              But we’ve been friends for ages, so I feel a little more secure than I might otherwise.

              We arrive at the arcade and are warmed by the familiar neon sign and sounds of pinball, game overs, and high scores. Hyperactive music originated in Japan slips out of the arcade like a snake and warps the sounds a little. They recently installed a DDR machine. It feels like an enemy. But that is only the fear one has of a much-loved childhood place being changed by the times and the pop culture that one is wary of. Oce frowns at the crowds of people surrounding two people dancing it out on the machine. He doesn’t know why its interesting or fun to watch. It occurs to me that part of our distrust of the thing originates in that we can’t get near it due to the swarms of people. Even if we could, would we really want to use the thing with a horde of people watching us mess up? Messing up isn’t as enjoyable if there are people who show scorn for it watching.

              I briefly fantasize of coming into the arcade with Oce after it has closed to use the machine, trip over ourselves, and laugh about it. We can make our mistakes with joy if it’s just us.

              But then, can’t Oce turn his mistakes into jokes for everyone?

              I angrily banish the bitter thoughts that come unbidden. Wrong, wrong, I chide myself. Unfair. But still they linger.

              I ignore them.

              Oce indicates one of those arcade racing game – this one a motorcycle one. I nod. It’s one of our favorites, though we’re both deathly awful at them. I win most of the time. Oce tends to crash into things by taking a turn too wide or too narrow.

              There’s a few 7th graders finishing up a race but they skidaddle as we approach. We pop in our quarters and do our best to beat each other to the finish line. We don’t care about beating the other cycles on the virtual track – it’s just about besting each other. As expected, I beat him, and by luck I beat the other cycles, too. The machine spits some “silver” tokens out at me. The things are actually nickel-silver, but who cares? I grab the tokens and we head over to Ski Ball. Oce kicks butt at Ski Ball and nabs a nice sum of tokens while we’re there. I manage to snag a couple, too. The 7th graders from before are there and Oce challenges them to a Ski Ball competition. The 7th graders do not see me and so I do not join in. Oce doesn’t notice; he’s caught up in the moment.

              As expected, he kicks their butts, but lets them leave with only wounded pride. We head over to the prize booth and scan the prizes that our combined tokens can get us. We don’t know the woman behind the counter, but she chews her gum with her mouth hanging open and clearly thinks we’re too old to be there. Oce and I drag out our time there just to irk her. They have glowsticks there so we bust all the tokens on glowies. We get a nice range of ‘em; 9” bracelets, 1.5” glowsticks to go in a cheap little clip on earring thing, other 1.5ers to go in rubber mouth-guard looking things that’re supposed to make your mouth glow but mostly look silly, and you’re average size glowsticks. The woman clearly thinks we’re messed in the head so we grin like morons and head out chuckling.

              We stand outside for a while, neither of us thinking, just standing there. Habit kicks in and I suggest we head to Oce’s house for a bout of videogaming. I practically live at Oce’s house. I do my homework there, spend my time there, and I leave as late as is reasonably safe. I prefer not to go home and it is not a rude thing anymore for me to invite myself to Oce’s house. I don’t want Oce to come within a mile of my house, and I suppose this much he understands on some level.

              He agrees and we walk to the two-story building of suburbia.

 

              Oce’s house is yellow and skinny but wonderful. His mother is an artist and his father a very successful architect and, together, they created a fun house. Spiral stairs are placed strategically and there are panes of glass in the upstairs floor that touch me on a level I don’t understand. The bathroom is a crystalline haven with the tub in-ground and framed by windows. Oce’s parents’ room is a paradise of light and warmth and comfort and his room, in the finished basement, is comfortable, pretty, and precisely the sort of room I wish that I had. They all have their own TVs and computers and whatever else they desire, and their shared study with its hundreds of skylights and general comfort with the refined style of a classic study has its own of everything, also.

              I never remember that Oce is upper middleclass until I walk into his house. Then I revel in it.

              We greet his mother and she asks us how our walk was. We give her a brief but satisfactory run down of our usual afternoon and she smiles and gives us some food. She gently reminds us to do our homework. It is the usual ritual and we proceed in the usual manner. Oce balances the tray of food and I grab our bags off the dining room table where we left them after school, before we went out to wander the town. Oce’s mother looks us over as if we were her children going into space on a wonderfully courageous, heroic, and otherwise stunning mission. She kisses Oce on both cheeks and gives me a hug and we head down to Oce’s room. Oce’s bed is on the floor in his room, but on a portion of the floor that is at a higher level than the rest of it. He pulls a table over and puts the food on it and I put our bags in the designated places. Oce sits on the floor between his bag and the table and I lay on my stomach on his bed with the edge of my binder just barely touching his head. We do our homework in silence for a good fifteen minutes. I finish my English homework (my best subject) and break the quiet. “Wanna listen to something?”

              I’m already standing when he replies. “Yeah. How ‘bout Modest Mouse?”

              I nod my agreement and put Good News for People Who Love Bad News into his stereo before returning to my designated position to start on the rest of my homework. By a tacit agreement that we came to way back when, we work in a different order of subjects but both save our math homework for last. I go English, history, foreign language, science, math, and Oce goes science (his best subject), foreign language, history, English, math. This way, if one of us gets stuck on something, the other has already figured it out and can, thereby help. We’re both not the best math students ever so we do our homework together. We always make sure to have the same teachers and same academic classes so our system won’t get messed up. Our schedules are always the same except for our electives. I tend to focus on writing and the arts whereas Oce focuses on the sciences and computers. We always do the school plays together, though. Not that our parts are in any way major. We like it like that, though.

              Oce is just finishing up his English so I wait to start on the math. Once he’s ready, he turns around to face me and says, “Alright, what’s ol’ Thoth got for us today?” He likes to call our math teachers Thoth. It’s another mini ritual in our days.

I recite the assignment from memory and he double-checks it in his homework notebook. We start in on the math and it’s not as bad as it could be. It’s more like a discussion with cheerful if cynical commentary. It takes us the longest to finish the math, but we do finish it and simultaneously snap our binders shut – another tradition – and put our things away. Oce carts the table of food over to our gaming area and I get the console going. We decide to duke it out in We Love Katmari’s two-player mode. When I’ve sufficiently kicked his ass, we play the game via co-op mode and laugh ourselves to tears in our inability to roll anything up.

Oce’s mum calls us to dinner and we calmly shut the game down and stretch… and then bolt for the door in a mad rush to see who can get upstairs first. We’ve broken many things in this manner, but we keep it up anyway. Oce beats me to the dining table and does a “Walk like an Egyptian” victory dance and I act the dejected loser. Oce’s mom chuckles and we join in before taking our designated seats. Oce’s mom is a thin, bird-like woman who is sweet as honey. She sits opposite Oce’s father who sits at the head of the table and is a cheerful chub of a man with a sweet face and a jolly chuckle. When we were little, I was convinced that he was actually Santa Claus. Oce’s little brother and sister come downstairs after his mom calls for them a second time and they sit across from Oce and I. His brother is a petulant preteen falling into a fad of death metal and depression-is-cool. We sometimes joke with things like “Suicide! Everyone’s doing it!” but in truth we’re actually worried about him. He was always sensitive and we are wary of this phase. We, affectionately, call him Osiris and he likes it well enough. Oce’s little sister is a cat-loving girly creature that is somewhat prone to hissy fits. She alternately hates and loves me, and Oce spends a lot of his time at home glaring at her. We call her Bast.

Dinner passes in a range of topics from new sneakers to politics back to hair scrunchies and then to religion. More than anything, I like to listen to them talk, though I do participate. Oce and I head downstairs once dinner is over and we adopt our traditional after-dinner poses. I break out my “Book of the Dead” as Oce calls it in which I keep my scraps of writing and a handful of doodles. I am the only one who knows its full contents and of anyone, Oce is perhaps the most respectful of the sacredness of the thing. I curl up into a corner of the bed and lean against a corner of the wall with my knees acting as a platform to rest my notebook against. I have a pen in hand and already have begun to doodle something while my mind tries to decide its direction. Oce lays on the bed with his legs falling off the side and resting on the floor, eyes closed. This is the last hour before my usual hour of departure and it always begins the same and follows one of several courses of action. On some occasions I am lost in art or writing and Oce merely lays there and listens to the sound of pencil on paper, furious erasing, or my occasional squeak or murmur of thought provoking vocal cords. On a handful of occasions he fell asleep like that, but on most of those he was ill. Other times, I will loose myself in my work and he will read, and other times still I will not entertain my muse at all but will wait a few moments and begin a conversation.

Tonight is destined to be a conversing night but I know myself well enough to see where I would lead the conversation and I do not want to take that path. But my muse wriggles away from me and the words fight their way out of my throat. “Are you going to ask Hera out?” I use his name for her out of respect, but I pause involuntarily before saying it. He either does not catch it or ignores it.

“I was thinking about it. Why?”

Words bubble up and I am incapable of saying them for there are too many. A thought stands out and makes itself known. “Is that… wise?”

He opens an eye and gives me a critical look. “How do you mean wise?”

I scold myself, Stupid, stupid, and gesture vaguely. “Well, I’m just thinking that she’s kinda the… well, to put it bluntly, she’s the type who screws every living thing.” He doesn’t say anything so I look for more words to try and fix the silence that I fear. “I mean, I don’t trust her, and I’m just concerned that she’ll hurt you or something.”

It’s a bit pathetic, but it seems to do the trick. It occurs to me that I am often just that kind of pathetic and so it is precisely the sort of thing I would say anyway. Oce sighs and closes his eyes, resettling himself. “I know what they say, Leto, but I can’t deny my heart, can I?”

Any number of retorts rise up and present themselves to me for use. With an effort of self-control, I force them down and away, refusing to even think on them, and tell him that he can’t. I thank whatever is holy that his eyes are closed and that he cannot see me fighting myself. Some awkward seconds slip by and Oce brings up a topic of conversation from dinner to fill the discomfort. I latch onto it and we stay on that topic until I have to leave.

 

I am both fearful and awed by the town at night. I like to walk beneath the light of the lampposts but also I am afraid of who will see me. It is a game of spies and risks and luck that I play when I walk home from Oce’s house every evening. I do not trust my town or its people. I do not trust many people. But the thrill of the night and the beauty a lamppost can have or that particular half-light of a town at night fills me with a joy that is not entirely repressed. I bounce in and out of lamplight and half-jog to my apartment building. I take the stairs two at a time, unlock my door as if Satan were after me, and enter breathless but happy. I think perhaps my mother would wonder if I was a slut if she wasn’t drunk all the time. Mother is asleep and snoring in her favorite recliner with a Bud Light in one hand, several empty cans scattered around her, and the light of TV static making her already waxy features look like the face of some wax museum doll. I spare her merely a glance. I cannot look at her without wanting to vomit or cry or both. I go to the kitchen table and flip through the mail. No bills, thank God, but no money from dad either.

It makes my throat feel like it’s trying to close itself. The money we need to live is late…late, late, late…

I leave my bag there and go to my room, put my pajamas on, and slip into bed. I do not fall asleep immediately and, in desperate panic, I down a sleeping pill, and almost cry for joy when it starts to take effect.

[kampfkuchen85]

Gossiping gone wrong

Characters: Shiba Taiju, reader

Warnings: none 

Note: English isn't my first language, so there could be mistakes. This is just a fanfic, so don't take it too serious :D

Masterlist

============================================

It was a lazy day at work, when you were sitting in front of your computer monitor, typing the settlements, cause it was nearly the end of the month. You were looking on your watch in hopes time would fly by faster, if you look more often. No, time was crawling like a slug. Just half an hour more and it's lunch break, you thought, holding your stomach. You were hungry.

The new trainees catched your attention. All three of them were standing in a corner of the office, all of them with a cup of coffee or tea in their hands- you couldn't tell because of the distance - and chatting lively. Don't they have a job to do? At first the conversation was about plans for the weekend, gossiping about other girls and their clothing- and hairstyle. You rolled your eyes. You aren't really interested in that kind of stuff, because you didn't knew any of them well enough. 

When the conversation was going another route, you were suddenly all ears. Men! They started to talk about men. This is a much more interesting topic. You thought that nothing was wrong with taking a five minute break - even when it was only 25 minutes left till lunch break - so you listened secretly.

A: “Have you seen him? He´s so fucking hot. I can´t wait to see him again. Have you seen his muscles? I wish I could touch them. I wish I could bury my face in his muscled chest."

The first girl apparently had a crush on this man, you guessed.

B: “Don´t tell me you´re talking about that ugly guy that owns the restaurant at the end of the street. Yeah, I´ve seen him a couple of times now too, but, nah, there are much better fish in the ocean. Not my type. In my eyes he´s fucking ugly. His nose looks like a coat hook. Yeah, he has big muscles, but I don't want to imagine touching him. That gives me goosebumps. He's always looking so grumpy.”

She made a disgusted face and was shaking to make her opinion clear.

C: “Who are you talking about? That tall guy with the prominent vein on his forehead?”

Now they had your complete attention. You knew that guy, but you made up your mind and said nothing, interested in what's coming next. Your coworker, sitting to your left, was aware of the conversation too and gave you a knowing look.

“I wish I could read your mind right now”, she whispered, leaning to you with a bright smile, bumping slighty with her elbow against your arm.

Yeah, she knows who they're talking about.

“Let them talk. I'm curious how this will end.”

A: “Should I ask for his number? Do you think I'm his type?”

She was running a hand through her long hair, trying to look 'pretty' with this action.

C: “Why not? Ask him. He can't do more than rejecting you, right?”

B: “And by the looks of him, he's definitely single. I mean, just look at him. Who could love such a face....only a mother."

She was sticking her tongue out to the trainee with the obvious crush.

Now YOU are the one with the prominent vein on their forehead.  What did you just hear? Who could love such a face? Excuse me? You were raging inside, but nothing was seen on the outside. Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax your hands. You can't punch the trainees here in the office. They don't know who they're talking about.

As if on cue the said man appeared in the doorframe, looking slightly confused at the girls that were standing right there next to him as if they've never seen a man before, looking at him with open mouths.

“Huh?”, he was taking his view away from the three girls, going straight to your desk. “Are you done, honey?”

You gave him a big smile. “Yes, babe. Right on time. I'm starving”, grabbing your purse and your jacket in one swift move, then clinging on to his arm, giving him a quick peck on his cheek. “Let's go.”

You couldn't help it, so you gave the girls a bright, fake smile. “See you after lunch, girls.” disappearing with your companion. 

Your coworker couldn't hold back her laugh. 

“Did none of you notice that you were talking about Shiba Taiju the whole time? Y/Ns husband?!”, wiping away her tears of laughter. “Man, I wish I could give you some encouraging words, but you fucked up.”

[priyas-tiddies]

Love Island Season 2 - Who really stayed mates headcanons!

Because Chelsea’s MurDeR Mystery was trash and destroyed so many characters I thought I’d share my realistic head canons for what islanders would actually keep in touch after the villa.

First the couples! (If your MC isn’t dating one of them of course)

Gary and Lottie would give it a go and stay together for maybe 6 months. It would be mostly physical with not a lot of communication. They would travel together and she would meet his nan but ultimately they’d realize they just don’t vibe as well in the real world. They’d both be petty on Twitter but eventually get over it. They’re friendly at reunions even though Lottie would probably try to put a curse on in him in a state of bitterness, Gary prefers to talk a little shit and then move on. I imagine they’re always friendly in person but it’s always a little tense.

Noah and Hope would last at least a year after the villa. They would spend some time traveling and enjoying their time together but ultimately break up because their plans for the future are just to different. They’re the type of exes to like and comment on each other socials for years even if they don’t talk outside of that. I really think they’d have a mature breakup once outside the villa. They’re grateful for the time they spent together and while it might be a little awkward at first they’re happy for each other finding what they really want in life.

Jo and Ibrahim would break up less than a month after leaving the villa. They rushed into things and as soon as they were on the outside they would start to overwhelm each other. I could see them having a bit of messy breakup just because they both suck a communicating.

Marisol and Graham wouldn’t last a week tbh. They might enjoy the physical aspects for a couple days but Marisol would put a stop to it fairly quickly. She was into the idea of Graham liking her but didn’t actually like Graham that much. Graham would be probably try and get super serious as soon as they left but we all know they had nothing in common. It would ultimately end super awkwardly.

Now some friendly hcs

Hope and Marisol would become super close friends after the villa. They’re both super career oriented women who found a lot of confidence on Love Island. I could see them getting weekend drinks, meeting coworkers and catching each other up on all their gossip. Maybe even planning girls trips together so they can take a break from their demanding careers. I also don’t see either of them staying in touch with any of the other girls either! (Except the MC of course. If Marisol married MC than I imagine the two of them would both stay really close to Hope and would eventually plan double dates with Hope and her new boyfriend *cough Lucas*)

Priya and Bobby would stay bros. They don’t see each other that often but Bobby is the first to text Priya whenever he’s traveling or close to where she lives. Concerts, pub-hopping, silly cooking classes, pretty much anything wild and goofy they’ll end up doing when they’re together. They have a truly platonic relationship and tell each other alot. Priya has even had guys get really insecure about her friendship with Bobby but some people just can’t accept that men and woman can be just good friends.

Ibrahim, Gary, and Bobby would try and stay mates but I don’t think they would vibe well with each other’s friend groups back home. Gary would try to bring them out with his friends but Rahim would get quiet and feel left out while Bobby would get to silly. They still grab the occasional pint and would plan an adventure golf trip when they get a free weekend. Gary would definitely be the first one to comfort Rahim after his breakup with Jo though.

Lottie and Hannah would have the fakest friendship after the villa. Not because they don’t like each other but I just think they’d try to overcompensate by acting closer than they really are on social media. In reality they would constantly make plans to hang out but never do it, until they just stopped talking entirely. Lottie would get petty about this and write some pointed tweets.

Lucas and Hope ok hear me out. They had so much in common and if it wasn’t for Noah, Hope could have had something with him. They both enjoyed the finer things in life but knew money wasn’t everything. She was independent and career-oriented, which he loved while he was a gentleman that knew how to be show his softer side. Some time after Nope breaks up, Lucas would reach out to her on Instagram to see if they want to catch up. Marisol would take it upon herself to play matchmaker and it would surprisingly turn out great. They’d be embarrassed that their friends tried to set them up but once they got to be alone they would realize just how much they really have in common now that their out of the villa.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Ours | Charlie McAvoy

Requested? Nah

Warnings? Nope

Summary: You and Charlie won't let anything get in between the two of you

Word Count: 1,588

Italics means flashback :)

You rock slowly back and forth on your feet, anxiously awaiting for this staff meeting to be over. You slowly make your way over to the gymnasium where the rest of your coworkers sit just as impatiently as you. Your eyes scan the room, deciding on climbing the bleachers to the back before taking a seat.

You didn’t hate the school you worked at, you actually loved it, and loved your students. However, you weren’t extremely fond of your coworkers. You got along with a few of them, consistently trading daily pleasantries back and forth but often didn’t exceed that. You were the youngest staff member with ease, and with that came gossip as it always does.

The minute they found out you were dating the famous hockey player Charlie McAvoy they wouldn’t leave it alone. They wanted to know every detail, wanted to have a say in your relationship, wanted to judge it or take advantage of it.

As you looked around the room you couldn’t help the quiet snicker let out at the vacant stares of your fellow staff.

“He looks like he has elevator music playing in his head,” Charlie whispers making you giggle and press your face into his shoulder.

“He usually acts like he does,” you joke and now Charlie is giggling right along with you.

You both look around the room, pointing at people as they zone out during the fancy dinner and pretend like you know what these people might be talking about. You and Charlie had gotten quite good at making boring and fancy events fun for two young people. You both had millions of dinners and events and meetings you needed entertainment for.

“Darling?” Charlie calls and you look up at him.

“People are staring.”

You ignore him pressing a long kiss to his lips and you feel his smile against yours.

As you sit and smile absentmindedly thinking of the memory, you hear someone call your name. Your face falls before picking back up into a fake smile as your coworker comes to sit by you.

“Hi Becca,” you greet.

“Hey! How is everything? How’s your little boyfriend?”

You can’t help but think about how insanely quick the mention of your boyfriend comes, but you shrug it off as you answer.

“I’m good, we’re both good,” you smile and she returns it, her face scrunching as if you gave her an answer she didn’t want before she turns back around.

You practically race home after your meeting, excited to be released from your coworker’s claws and into the loving arms of your boyfriend. You step through your apartment door, dropping your keys and kicking off your shoes. Charlie’s head pops up from his position on the couch and your smile appears.

Charlie makes grabby hands at you and you head over, letting him pull you into his lap as he runs his hands up and down your back. You rest your head on his chest sighing at the calming contact of your boyfriend.

“Rough day?” he asks knowing your habit of coming in full throttle to tell him all about your day.

“Not too bad. Becca asked about you and me again,” you mention and Charlie nods in understanding.

“What’d you say?” he asks.

“That we’re madly in love,” you respond dramatically, making Charlie smile.

“Don’t worry about her or anyone else. You’re the one for me,” you remind him.

You prop your chin on his chest, gazing up at the brunette who stole your heart for the better. A tiny smile appears on your lips before you pucker your lips making Charlie giggle before pressing a kiss to your lips.

You wrap a hand around Charlie’s bicep as he leads you through the room, grabbing a drink from a waiter as you walk and your boyfriend chuckles lightly. Team events always make you nervous. You loved the team and they loved you, it was the execs and the donators, and family members that made you anxious.

You had gotten off on the wrong foot with some of them and swore you were never going to recover at this point. You still tried no matter what, knowing you would always be here to support Charlie at these things for as long as he would have you.

As you walk, you spot a girl who looks familiar in the way that makes your stomach drop. Charlie follows your gaze, the two of you in sync the only way best friends and soulmates can be. His jaw drops and he heads over to the girl, effectively dragging you along with him.

“Hailey! Hey!” he greets warmly, pulling himself from you to hug the girl.

She returns the sentiment, smiling brightly at your boyfriend as she lets go of him. Charlie instantly turns to you, re-introducing you to the girl you already knew as one of Charlie’s exes. You smile fakely towards the girl, her lip glossed lips forming into a grin herself. Charlie and her exchange pleasantries, how they’re both doing now and what’s been going on since they last saw each other. Your grip on Charlie tightens as he talks and he casts a glance towards you, knowing instantly what’s going on with you.

“It was nice seeing you Hailey,” he says and she nods before you both part from her.

You walk around, Charlie glancing at you every once in a while before you finally come to a stop at a table.

“You’re jealous,” he says and you turn towards him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Hm?”

“Baby,” he says placing his hands on your hips effectively turning you towards him.

“I love you,” he reminds you and you search his eyes, a brief smile appearing on your lips.

“I love you too.”

Your hands sit interconnected over the console as Charlie drives, he’s your calm in the upcoming nerves that pound against your heart. The drag of his callouses against your palm brings comfort to you like nothing else can.

When he parks the car he turns towards you, and you refuse to meet his eyes. You let go of his hand, flipping it over and tracing the toughness of his palms with your fingers. You feel his eyes trail from your face to your hands, cupping both of your hands in his and making you focus again.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says and a tiny smile shows up on your lips.

“I should be saying that to you,” you tell him and a grin splits open on his face.

Your eyes wander up to Charlie’s toothy grin and you feel your smile widening at the sight of it. You had always been a sucker for a good smile, and it was no doubt the first thing you noticed about the boy in front of you. You pull one of your hands from his, reach up, and running your thumb over his bottom lip making him lean into your touch.

“You ready to go?” he asks and you nod quietly.

You and Charlie get out of the car together, his hand finding yours instantly and your nerves still for a moment at the contact. He takes a step forward and your confidence is slightly renewed with your love beside you.

You step into the restaurant, spotting your family immediately and you make your way over to them. You offer hugs to your parents while Charlie gives a handshake to your father who seems to be already frowning at your boyfriend’s presence.

You take your seat’s and the awkwardness fills the restaurant. It’s not that your parents didn’t like Charlie, they just weren’t his biggest fan. You were pretty sure the minute you told them you were dating a hockey player, and then a Bruin, and then one of the most famous Bruins, they were wary from the start.

“So Charlie,” your dad starts and you look towards him. “Still playing for a losing team?”

“Dad!” you snap wondering how long he’s been holding that one in.

“Actually sir we’re headed to the playoffs soon,” Charlie responds with ease.

As he talks his hand finds its way to your thigh, giving it a squeeze before rubbing slow circles with his thumb to calm you down.

“Well so are the Islanders,” your dad responds and Charlie laughs only making you smile lightly.

“That is true sir.”

Charlie and your dad glance at each other for a moment before they break and you grin unknowingly at the action. Charlie had always been amazing like this around your parents, patient, kind, and loving, you couldn’t get over it.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear and he smiles looking down.

“Of course.”

The rest of dinner passes, with a few more passive-aggressive comments to you and Charlie. You and Charlie head out, this time his arm wrapped around your shoulders and yours around his waist as you make your way to his car.

He leads you to the passenger side and you lean against the door and look up at Charlie. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you and he slots himself between your legs. You look up at him through your lashes and Charlie’s eyes search yours.

“I don’t give a fuck what anyone says,” you start. “This love is ours.”

“Ours huh?” he asks leaning down closer to you.

“Always and forever.”

He smiles at you before ducking down and pressing a long kiss to your lips one you smile through and Charlie returns.

[minniepetals]

unlove me, i dare you | 01

— summary: it wasn't meant to be. you're only a burden

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, office!au, break up!au

— word count: 2.2k

— warnings: angst

—   part 2

You weren't supposed to fall in love.

Admire, yes, because everyone admires them, but you had always strayed away from the crowd that hoped to gain their attentions at any moment they can get. You were meant to stay quiet and shy, in the shadows of their many admirers, and to just focus on the tasks given to you.

Because by doing that, you won't attract attention, right? By doing that, no one will notice you at all, right?

Yet the more you stay true to yourself without losing focus of what's in front of you, the easier it is for their lives to slip into yours.

Small greetings displayed with gentle smiles. Hellos and welcomes. Keeping the elevator door open for you to catch up and walk in. Shy gestures, timid waves, small cups of coffees sat on your desk each time you arrive along with sweet little post-it notes.

They weren't supposed to be drawn into the timid employee that was always too afraid to say no. They weren't even supposed to know your name.

But months passed, seasons changed, the weather growing colder day by day.

You'd stay up working on reports and datas, last to leave, often times falling asleep. And when the snow finally falls on the first day of December, he's there outside standing in the snow when you leave that midnight morning.

"Let me give you a ride home," he offers with a soft, dimpled smile.

You shouldn't have taken his hand but you did.

A few more months passed, you grow closer and closer.

Jimin teases you, Jungkook fools around, and Taehyung steals you away whenever he can. Seokjin's always there with a coffee in hand, Yoongi's always gifting you his precious gummy smile. Hoseok reminds you to take care of yourself and Namjoon stays behind later and later when you have deadlines to meet.

They weren't supposed to like you, a surprise making your heart beat faster and faster the moment the shy confessions are made.

You weren't supposed to be theirs.

But you are.

You're theirs and they're yours.

.

.

"Baby, Jimin's using his hyung privilege to make me run around for his coffee," the little one whines with an adorable pout that makes your heart flutter for days.

He falls into your arms, when you round his desk and come close enough to his reach, settling his head against your chest and just whines like a small child.

He's never like this in front of the company and you smile, finding yourself so, so lucky.

"He's so mean," he sniffles dramatically and you giggle, fingers running through his hair in a comforting way.

"I can take over for you," you tell him so he quickly picks his head up again, shaking vehemently as he looks up at you through his lashes.

"No way, I can't have babygirl doing that for me or hyung."

"It's okay," you laugh, "I have a little break right now so I don't mind."

Yet he only pouts. "If you have a break then spend time here with me, don't do that spoiled brat's demands."

You stroke his head gently, a soft gaze resting on your face at how beautiful and pretty Jungkook looks. "I promise I'll be right back, okay?"

He lets you go after a few more minutes.

.

.

"Baby! That was Jungkook's job, you're not supposed to do it for him!" You're met with another whiny child who's acting oh so different than the man everyone else knows him as.

Yoongi chuckles. "Maybe get your own coffee instead of asking Jungkook."

"Or ask Jin hyung," Hoseok suggests.

"It's not fair," Jimin pouts when he disregard the coffee onto his desk to hold you in his arms instead. "Jin hyung only gets coffee for babygirl, why can't he get some for me too?" He nuzzles up against you, breathing in your scent like a little kitten. "You always smell so nice."

You giggle, a small blush making its way up your cheeks when he presses a kiss on your neck.

"Come on, you two," Hoseok sighs, "we've got a meeting to get to."

"Oh! I'm sorry," you quickly say, face falling with worry that you've taken up their time.

But Yoongi shakes his head as he comes over to pet you on the head. "It's okay babygirl, we needed this little moment."

He kisses you on the temple and they say their goodbyes as they head off to their meeting.

.

.

"Do you not get scared at night?"

"I guess I've gotten used to it," you shrug lightly as Seokjin takes your hand and Namjoon leads you to the car. "Though the empty cubicles do get a little creepy at times."

"Aw baby, you know you can always come work in our offices if you'd like," Namjoon offers.

"I wouldn't want to disturb you."

The older one shakes his head. "You'll never be a disturbance, I promise you," he tells you with a soft gaze before Namjoon points to the sky.

"Look how pretty the stars are. Just like you, babygirl."

.

.

"Are you alright?"

"Hm?" You turn to your friend, teeth biting against your lower lip as you look up, eyes drowsy and pen almost slipping from your grasp.

"You look worn out, Y/N. Maybe you should head home," she suggests.

But you shake your head despite knowing she's right. "I'll be okay, Minyoung. Team leader expects these reports in a few hours, I can't leave now."

"I'm sure she'll underst-"

"I really can't be distracted right now, I'm sorry."

An hour passes and your headache grows worse by the minute so you decide to take just a small little break.

You stand to go grab a drink of water, body barely able to stand up straight and a voice reaches your ears.

"Y/N?"

You gasp, suddenly standing up straight again but your boyfriend only watches you with concern. He holds a hand against your forehead without a word, brows furrowing even deeper when he feels the temperature.

"Baby, you aren't feeling well."

"I-I'm okay, I just..-" You fall back as he's quick to catch you, a gasp leaving his lips.

"I'm taking you home."

"But Tae-" Your body is lifted up before you can say no more and he begins walking his way, not listening to your protests and deeming your health is more important right now.

You're too weak to try and resist.

Later that night you find out he missed a meeting with an important executive.

.

.

"How'd she even become their girlfriend?"

"She doesn't look rich so I highly doubt she paid them."

"Maybe she sold herself."

"Whether she did or not it doesn't matter, I'm sure they'll just dump her in a few days."

The little snickers doesn't go past your ears but Minyoung rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Y/N, don't let their words get to your head."

It gets to your head.

.

.

"If you think we're going to go easy on you just because you're the bosses' girlfriend then I advise you to think again."

It isn't just the coworkers but the higher ups who talks and talks as well.

.

.

"You seem a bit off these days. You okay, sweetheart?"

When Yoongi questions you with a clear worry gaze displayed on his face, you know you can't keep worrying them.

"I'm okay."

He frowns, not sure whether to believe you or not, and goes on to stroke your head. "I'll always be here when you need me, okay?"

You force a smile. "Thanks, Yoongi."

.

.

It grows worse and worse.

Not the gossips and rumors but your own thoughts that's hoping to convince yourself that you aren't needed, that you're just a burden and nothing more.

They may not hate you right now but they'll come to that agreement one day, falling out of love — well, if they are even in love in the first place.

You know that you love them and that's what scares you most of all.

You're falling harder and harder each day and it isn't easy. Loving and to be loved is not easy.

You should be happy, right? Happy that they like you in the first place, happy that they've shown interest and have done nothing but be so supportive and being the best boyfriends they can be.

But what about you?

You haven't been the best girlfriend.

What are you even supposed to do? You don't know how to be a girlfriend. They've done nothing but treat you well. Buying you coffee, gifting you presents, staying up late and giving you rides home.

You've done nothing but have taken advantage of them.

"I'm going to break up with them."

Your best friend stares at you with disbelief, her voice speechless for a moment as her eyes widens, not sure whether she heard it right or not but the serious gaze on you lets her know that you're sincere.

"What? Y/N, if this is about those girls gossiping and-"

"It's not just about them," you tell her, suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to just cry. To let it all out. "I can't do this anymore, Minyoung. They're so great and sweet and kind but I've been nothing but a spoiled brat and letting them take care of me. I can't continue being a burden, Minyoung."

"You're not-"

"Relationships aren't just about being loved, Minyoung, it's about loving too. And right now I'm not sure how to love. I'm scared and I don't want to drag them down with me."

"Y/N..."

You shake your head, standing up from the sofa and taking a deep breath in. "I've made up my mind," you tell her, heart squeezing tightly against your chest. "I can't continue being a burden."

You pick up your purse and walk out her apartment.

.

.

"Let's break up."

The world falls so silent you can hear a pin dropping. They freeze like moments in time, eyes kept open without a blink, hearts drumming oh so slowly against their chests. Not even their own breathings can be heard because they've held it back.

Unsure. So unsure.

Yet it's confirmed to be true at the same time when you refuse to meet any of their gazes. It falls to the floor, you yourself not brave enough to face them because you know that if you are to look up, you'll just find yourself crawling into their arms for comfort and telling them all your worries.

But you can't do that, you know you can't. They've done so much for you, you can't crawl back in for more help. You know that if you tell them the truth to it all, giving them a clear, sincere explanation, then they'll try to convince you otherwise and you know, you know more than anyone in this universe that you do not deserve any of that.

You don't deserve their kindness, their warmth, their love.

You don't deserve them.

"What..? Y/N..."

You hear the crack in Jungkook's voice and make the mistake to look up because he's crying. There is rain falling from his eyes, falling even though he does not blink, and it only continues to form heavy along his waterline before dropping and dropping.

"Please tell me you're joking," he begs in a small whisper. "Please.."

"Please Y/N, we can fix this," Taehyung says. "Whatever the problem is. Just tell us and we'll fix it."

"Is it us?" Jimin asks and you want to tell them no. No, it isn't them, it's you. But if you say that then you'll only sound like an idiot who's making up an excuse to break it all off. "If it's us then we'll do better. I promise you, Y/N, we..we'll try harder. Just please...please, baby."

You didn't know it would be this hard to break things off, you never expected to be confronted with pleas for you to not do so.

You never expected tears.

Perhaps you've doubted their love but maybe that's even worse. They can't like you this much otherwise it'll only make things harder for the both of you.

There are tears cascading from their eyes, swimming with pain and affliction and it's a first.

The first time to see them cry.

"Please Y/N, I like you a lot." Jungkook takes your hand, begging, praying you're just playing around, squeezing it tightly to show you how serious he is. "I love you."

I love you.

The three words you hadn't expected to leave his lips.

The three words you had hoped wouldn't leave his lips especially right now, right at this moment as you're trying to put up a wall.

Your heart tightens as you push his hand away, shaking your head, holding the tears in.

"I don't."

It's such a soft, soft whisper.

But they hear it.

They hear it and you hear it. You hear the shattering of your heart that breaks into fine little pieces of fragile glass as you lie to him, as you lie to them.

So before they can hear that, you turn around and walk away, not daring to look back to see their faces, not daring to show them your own face as your eyes burn with tears while you hold a hand against your mouth, hoping to not make any sound to tell them that it is a lie.

A horrible, terrible lie.

[mintchocohip]

sub!bts as househusbands

╺ requested | the ot7 as househusbands!

╺ note | sub!bts x domme!reader. see each member for any notes!

TAEHYUNG ➜

note | roleplay

Visiting friends, putting on his errand boy hat, or wandering town with a camera, an empty stomach, and a pocketful of cash occupy chunks of Taehyung’s weekdays. He isn’t allowed to open his sub journal until three hours past noon—that’s the hour when he misses you the most. At the sanctioned time Taehyung opens the journal to today’s date and picks out a handwritten note delicately tucked into the pages. Today, he’s Maestra’s best student—recording himself practicing the new song you chose on his violin. “'I’ll do anything for Maestra. I would be her Cinderella,’” you’re finally home, and you’re sitting next to Taehyung on the couch reading aloud the journal entry he scribbled after sending you the recording, “'cleaning on hands and knees.’” Taehyung’s sheepishness at hearing you voice his fantasies is cured by a fluff of his hair and a fond kiss on his rosy ear. As you wash dishes with Taehyung later this evening you’ll contemplate tomorrow. Choosing these secret tasks is your prerogative. Still. Your husband always has amazing ideas. 

YOONGI ➜

notes | naked apron kink, mentions of pegging

Yoongi is the ideal house husband. He’s vigilant, hardworking, and resourceful. A need for time and space alone is never questioned. When your sleepy-eyed husband emerges from the solitude of his home studio, though, Yoongi needs tangible proof he’s making you happy. “An apron?” Yoongi glances down at the white sheath. He wandered into the kitchen to find you home from work with a shopping bag on your elbow. You’re holding the apron’s straps against his shoulders to judge the fit. “Cooking naked. Flying oil. Makes me nervous... I thought my little chef could use an apron.” Yoongi blinks. He knows he’s blushing. Usually, he doesn’t pull on clothes before waking up early to cook you breakfast and pack your lunch for work. Cooking for you is basic, respectful routine. It would be easier to toss on a baggy shirt than tie an apron. This gift mostly appears to benefit the person who strolls into the kitchen most mornings acting like you’re already hopped up on two espressos and daydreaming about giving him the strap tonight while you wake yourself up knowing full well the effect your naughty backhugs and whispered “good morning, baby”s have on his attempts to focus on stirring veggies in the frying pan, of course; but, Yoongi has a feeling he might enjoy it more than you do.

JUNGKOOK ➜

notes | mdlb, little!jk

Jungkook waited for the right moment expectantly. He sensed it in your aura. He felt it in the way you looked at him, listened to him, and held him in the weeks before. Something changed. It was a comfortable, gentle change. Jungkook cried when he proposed. He cried at the wedding. He cried when you said it would be better to stop renting dungeon space and instead find an apartment with a suitable extra room. Marriage was about romance, symbolism, and becoming yours. Jungkook knew his lifestyle of playing games and going to the gym all day wouldn’t change. You’re two self-sufficient people who fix up chores as they appear. Most days, Jungkook feels that vocally supporting your ambitions and treating the apartment like a laundrette are the most important things he can do. When you text him to say you’re coming home early and wondering if he could take out all of his littlespace things and set up the playroom before you’re through the door—shocks run up Jungkook’s spine. He gloats like your friend when he steals your snacks, and he thinks like a roommate when he asks if he can dedicate more closet space to his growing shoe collection. Right now, you need your partner. That special knowledge relaxes Jungkook with peaceful—dry-eyed—certainty.  

HOSEOK ➜

note | mommy kink

You didn’t know housework channels existed until Hoseok started one. The ‘mommy’ in his social media handle is cutesy but sincere. In the past Hoseok has always felt tingly and whole when you gave him a sarcastic “sorry, mom” after he scolded you for putting drain cleaner in the wrong cupboard or failing to tap down a coaster for a glass of water. Now, it’s what a legion of fans call the faceless, apron-clad man posting soothing clips of himself cleaning through every room of this gorgeous sunny apartment and, occasionally, grooming the puppies. You’ve never really looked at any of it. Hoseok appreciates that you have him so wholly you don’t need to. “Soft,” you mutter while laying in bed with him at night. You’re playing with his hair to make him smile. Hoseok knows a certain bedside drawer is off-limits from his urge to tidy and rearrange. When you roll over to open it he curls up inside. At some point this house gained two mommies. Only one Mommy is dignified with a capital M in texts through fluxes of dirty talk and reminders to buy new air filters. Only one of them decides when and how Hoseok gets off. Your husband enjoys organizing his days. For your sake, he’s even happier to surrender his nights. 

JIMIN ➜

note | lifestyle d/s

Watered plants, vacuumed cat hair, spotless surfaces, empty recycling, lines in praise of Mistress. Jimin sends you photos of today’s completed chores at the scheduled times and gets cute emojis in return. If he lived alone Jimin might spend all day playing with the foster cats and downing wine at brunch. As it is, he carefully considers a new color scheme for the bathroom. He needs this space to be pretty for you. Shopping with a wide open budget usually distracts Jimin into sending you pictures of a giant teddy bear and asking if you would be angry to find it in the living room when you come home. Although he flutters from amusement to amusement, Jimin is always home, relaxed, and wearing the clothes you like when he needs to be. Hanging up your backpack and taking off your shoes, following you into the bedroom, and kneeling at the edge of the bed to massage your legs and eat your cunt is ritualistic. Jimin makes amazing coffee. You lounge in bed, sip the mug he brings, and tell him what to order for dinner. Discipline earns its rewards. The reason you bicker with smiles on your faces about Jimin’s definition of “spotless surfaces” is absolute comfort. You know what you want from each other, and you want the same things.  

NAMJOON ➜

Lounging in the garden is a fine way to spend a weekend afternoon. Cool shade inside the wisteria tunnel is dappling Namjoon with light and shadow. You lean over the picnic tatami and clink lemonade cans with the man who created this masterpiece. He smiles shyly when he realizes you’re staring. You’re giving him that look. Once upon a time, discovering that you don’t care too much about your surroundings excited Namjoon. It’s a form of power he never thought he would have in a marriage. Perusing local furniture galleries and commissioning artists to furnish a home that suits his aesthetic sparked Namjoon’s creativity. Tempering compost, monitoring seedlings in the garden, and flecking walkways with wildflowers and willows brims him with encompassing adoration for life. Beauty is created in the wake of his passionate work. “Unbutton your shirt halfway.” You're taking a sip of lemonade, leaning back, and watching Namjoon follow your instruction. Buttons open somewhat shakily. He rests his hands and waits to hear your next idle thought on what he should do for you. The outlines of these moments cross your mind slowly and meander to your imagination. You don’t have the patience for gardening. You do have the patience to capture some of Namjoon’s beauty for yourself.  

SEOKJIN ➜

note | blindfolds

Your coworkers have met him at parties. Seokjin is a friendly, handsome man with savoir faire. A creative list of salacious reasons a man like that would drop his career forms behind your back. Seokjin scoffs when you relay gossip to him. He’s especially fond of the idea he’s a criminal witness skirting discovery. Trying the hobbies he never had time for, taking his little cousins to the aquarium, fishing weekends, signing up for classes at the local university, streaming liveplays out of his gaming room or cooking tutorials out of the fancy kitchen you funded—Seokjin savors it all with fresh-faced enthusiasm. Some days he just takes out the trash, folds laundry, edges himself, gets bored, catnaps, and checks his phone to see if you can call because he’s lonely today and nothing he could do compares to hearing his wife tell him what’s on her mind. There is an unwieldy desire inside Seokjin, despite it all. He needs to demonstrate the ways he cherishes, protects, and provides for you. Sometimes, it’s being the person you need to tell about your day. It’s being the person who cooks your comfort foods, provides warm hugs, queues your shows, and takes you on dates. Most often, it’s your kiss on his forehead as you adjust the blindfold and praise him sweetly. “You’re the reason,” you remind him with another kiss, “that I’m always smiling when I think about home.”

[cielowrites]

{ dharma } - tasm!peter parker / reader

ao3 

i / _

ii.  time-honored tradition , of timing and precision

     He got double the amount of pay he usually got from Jonah with the added photos of Spider-Man along with the photos he took of the music fest from Washington Height. While it was great that he would be able to treat Aunt May to dinner when she had time and had enough to cover the bills that month, Peter was still upset that he missed his chance to meet you. By the time he caught the robber and brought him in, the music fest was at a close and the vendors were already closing up shop. He wasn’t able to spot the band you helped out and he took it upon himself to swing around the area, making sure there were no other troublemakers around the corner. All while hoping to catch a glimpse of you but you were probably taking the train or were already home. 

     Some of the editors he made friends with in the office asked if he wanted to go out for drinks with them on his way out the door. He considered it for a moment, giving them a maybe and asked for the name of the place just in case he was able to go. A couple of them gave him a friendly pat on the back, telling him that they hoped to see him there. Peter couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, he pretty much finished all his assignments due that week and there was nothing else to do aside from pick up groceries. There hadn’t been any big super villains wreaking havoc as far as he knew and maybe after that whole multidimensional fiasco, they’d stay with younger Spidey. 

     A frown etched itself on his face, while it was great that the most he’d been dealing with lately was attempted murder on the homeless, he was worried that his little brother was shouldering more than he should be. Who was Peter Parker if he wasn’t trying to be Atlas in any world? Maybe he should look into multidimensional travel soon and see if Peter One was alright. 

     The buzz of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts as he headed into the deli to grab a sandwich. The owner lifted his head up as he heard the bell from the door, one look at Peter and he gave him a nod before he began putting together his usual order while the brunet answered his phone. 

     “Hello?” 

     “Hi Peter, it’s me. I’m going to be coming home late again. The hospital needs an extra hand.” 

     “Again? Aunt May, they’re starting to keep you there often… What time do I need to come get you?”

     “I’m getting a ride from a coworker who’s staying late with me, so you don’t have to worry about me. No need to change whatever plans you have.” 

     “But-!” 

     “No buts Peter Benjamin Parker. I’ll be safe. I’m glad you’ve been getting better, but it’s time you live your own life a little more too.” Peter furrows his brows and bites the edge of his thumb nail, worry seeping in his bones. “I can hear you pouting all the way here, Peter. I’ll be fine. The hospital isn’t far and I’ll be home faster with my coworker’s car.” He hears a far away voice from the other end of the line and a chuckle from Aunt May. “Tristan swears on his life that he’ll make sure I’ll make it home in one piece.”  

     A heavy sigh pushes past his lips, running his hand down his face anxiously. Peter sees the deli owner look at him in concern between his fingers, the sandwich wrapped up and done with a bag of his favorite chips. He smiles and shakes his head, quietly thanking him before handing the man a ten. Waving the owner goodbye, he tucks the bag of chips into the large pocket inside his jacket and unwraps the sandwich to take a bite. 

     “You sure you’re not trying to get rid of me and have a date night with him?” 

     “Pssh. You know Tristan, Pete. Date night means gossiping about the other staff over wine and him lamenting over unavailable doctors.” He couldn’t help but snicker over that, as May has told him a few stories. “I do know an available college boy if he’s interested…” The brunet wrinkles his nose, laughing loudly now while he tries to keep his sandwich bites in his mouth.

     “Cute, but no thanks. Bye, May. Stay safe.” He hears her say goodbye before she hangs up, slipping his phone into his pocket before he takes a second to sit down on a park bench and enjoy his lunch. This wasn’t the first time his aunt hinted at him going out with people. It was a little embarrassing the first time he brought a classmate in his home to work on a project and Aunt May was over the moon about it. As much as he loved her, he stuck to doing partnered or group projects in the library instead to avoid another misunderstanding. He looks at the time display on the building across the street, 4:48pm, and he thinks about the drink invite from the office. 

     If it stays quiet until six, I’ll head on over.

 _______________________________________________________

     It doesn’t. Never a day without needing Spider-Man, but the crime doesn’t take long to handle and he finds himself swinging into The Heights again when he looked up the bar his co-workers decided to head to earlier. He wasn’t sure why they decided to make the trip up there, it would be about two hours on foot unless this was a pre-planned thing they had going on. Either way, the thought that the bar was where the music fest was put a little bounce to his swing. Maybe he’ll get to see you again on his way there if you live around the area. If not, he’ll still get to hear great music and there’s no harm in friendly socializing with the people he worked with every now and then. 

     Peter lands in an alleyway and quickly pulls on his clothes over his suit, making sure it stays well-hidden. There had been a few instances where a sliver of red peeked out of his shirt during class and he explained to a classmate that he was wearing a compression shirt that looked like Spider-Man’s suit. It was a close call as his classmate went on about how useful compressions were for sports athletes and daily life. Sports medicine and Kinesiology was the guy’s major after all, so it made sense 

     Backpack secured, he begins his walk to the bar with his hands tucked into his pockets. The brunet plans on being there for a few hours before swinging home, he’ll more than likely be there before Aunt May so maybe he’ll try his hand at cooking a meal for her if she’s up for it. She’s been insisting that he learns how to cook something decent before he decides to move out on his own. He rubs the side of his neck at the thought, the sounds of music from various sources filling the air as he steps onto the sidewalk. 

     It hasn’t occurred to him to move out and away from May, the last time he thought about it was when he and Gwen planned to move to England together when she had her Oxford scholarship those years ago. He takes a deep breath, a dull pain on his chest from memories past. While there was no immediate danger with him staying with May, he can understand why she’s been nudging him. Cheaper as it is to stay home, he was going to have to start living on his own at some point and for the time that he does have to leave because of Spider-Man stuff, he needs a place away from her. 

     The music that flowed in the neighborhood kept him surprisingly grounded, his thoughts typically running a hundred miles per hour but the various languages from the open windows and the beat of unfamiliar songs kept him focused in a sense. The sounds engulf his senses, bringing him to a calm that lets him appreciate it and close his eyes to lose himself in it.

     “Hey, you.” He spins at the call, eyes wide as if he wasn’t supposed to be there. 

     “H-huh? Me?” Pointing to himself in confusion, his expression morphs to one of recognition at the figure a few feet behind him.

     “Pft. Yeah, you. You lost, camera guy?” You laugh, tightening the strap of your guitar case over your shoulder and making your way towards Peter. “Heard you were looking for me during the music fest. Still need those pictures or…?” 

     He’s lost for words at the moment, unable to hide the joy on his face at the sight of you. You think it’s cute and you wonder if Daphne was just pulling your leg that Doe Eyes here just wanted your picture for the paper. Peter blinks and gapes his mouth a few times before he remembers that it isn’t polite to stare and he’s been quiet for longer than it’s been socially acceptable. 

     “Oh! Um- No, not lost and I already gave the Bugle the photos since they needed it by today.” He stumbles through his words but manages to get the idea across. “Maybe… Next time? I’ll try to get you featured, if you’d like.” 

     “Ooo, I must be the luckiest person in New York if I know someone that can get my face on the front page.” You tease with a grin, stunning Peter for a moment before he responds with his own. A boost of confidence from your teasing.

     “With a voice like that and such a cute face, I’m surprised you’re not being followed by the dozen.” The compliment catches you off guard and your eyes widen at the speed of his comeback. That brief change from awkward to smooth gave you whiplash, and your grin widened. He definitely piqued your interest now. “Also… ‘Camera guy’?” he asks, bashful once again. 

     “Well, I don’t know your name and that’s how I remember you.” You shrug, walking towards him now. You have a gig in half an hour and you like to be punctual. “Got time? I’m walking to a gig, if you wanna join?” You hope he does, he seemed like the type to listen to a certain genre but was interested in what you were playing last time. 

     Peter took a second to think about it, it wasn’t as if there was a specific time that he had to meet with his coworkers at the bar but if you had a gig he’d like to watch you perform again. “Yeah, I got loads of time.” Fingers crossed that crime decides to take a nap tonight. You smile and wait for him to fall into step with you. Quietly, Peter says your name and asks if he said it right. 

     “Yup. That’s me alright.” Nodding, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a pop of your lips. “And who might you be? Or should I just keep calling you camera guy?” 

     “You got other nicknames thought up or is that all you got?” Peter laughed, a sense of comfort washing over him as both of you walked down the street. “It’s Peter, by the way.” 

     “Well, Daphne called you pájaro. Said you were scared shitless when you were trying to look for me.” He groans, face in his hands to cover the embarrassment that painted his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “You went chirp, chirp, chirp! the whole time apparently.” 

     “Can you blame me? She had this look on her face that reminds me of my aunt when she thinks I’m up to no good!” The whine in his voice was adorable and you can’t help but keep that smile on your face. Although flustered, you can tell that he’s about to ham up his performance. “I thought I was facing down a big mama bear ready to beat me up for fucking with one of her kids. That’s how scared I was.” 

     “Uh huh, sure. She also called you flaco.” 

     “For sure I thought she- Wait, what?” You were about to explain to him what that meant, he continues on with a pout on his face. “I’m not skin and bones! I eat plenty!” 

     If anything, he thinks he doesn’t eat enough. Even right now, he’s pretty hungry after swinging about. 

     You worry that he takes offense, taking it the wrong way, and start to apologize. “Hey hey, Daphne doesn’t mean that you’re not eating enough. She always says that regardless of how anyone looks, she means that in a ‘I’m looking out for you’ type of way.” The brunet pauses a moment at your tone and looks at you confused. 

     “Wha… Whoa, hold on. I know she’s not being mean about it. If anything, she reminded me that night that I only ate breakfast and needed something.” He gives you a reassuring pat on the guitar case, unsure whether or not it was ok to touch you. You appreciate the gesture, not too touchy with people you just met no matter how attractive they looked. 

     “Sorry, it just sounded like you thought she meant you don’t eat enough at home…” Peter shakes his head, understanding and confirms that that’s not what he meant from his words. 

     “I’m just offended that she decided to make that a nickname for me. The first one is fine, I’ve been told I ramble, but I’m not a stick.” You give him a dubious look, unable to tell if he’s telling the truth as his clothes look baggy on him. Maybe finding clothes his actual size with the height he has was hard. He gives you a petulant look at your silent implication and rolls his eyes, the lopsided smile on his face showing that there were no hard feelings. “Anyways… You never told me what nicknames you made for me.” 

     He has you there with a technicality. With a laugh you made a show of thinking it over before spotting the bar you were going to be playing at. You hurry your steps and Peter calls out for you to wait on him. He sees the name of the bar you stand in front of and blinks. 

     Two birds in one stone. Looks like he gets to socialize with his coworkers and watch you perform at the same time.

     “Sorry, bub. Gotta go play now. See you after I’m done and I’ll tell you?” You miss the mischievous glint in his eyes as you make your way into the bar. The bar staff greets you as you were a regular performer and they more than appreciated the music you had to offer them. Looking over your shoulder to give Peter a cheeky wink goodbye before he left, he surprises you by following into the bar and a small cheer from a group of people erupt at his appearance. 

     “Oh my god! Parker actually made it!” 

     “There’s a first for everything. Now pay up! I’m using that 20 to buy Mirabel some new fabrics for her sewing project!” 

     “You guys bet on me coming here?!” 

     Funny as it was to see Doe Eyes look unamused the the group of well-dressed people that just got off work, you can’t believe your fucking luck that this guy was heading the same place as you. There was just no way.  He totally planned this from the start! 

     As you were setting up your things and his coworkers pulled him down to take a seat and slid a drink in front of him, Peter looks up at you with a cocky smirk that had you silently burning from the tips of your ears to your nose. He raises his drink with the rest of the group, but directs it to you as he takes a sip without breaking his gaze. 

     See you after you’re done.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

[forhereyesonlyyy]

gfriend as your staff team! // gfriend. // scenario.

author's note: i should make a tradition where i do something for the whole group first before going into the individual stuff 🤔 idk how these things work so i kinda just winged it, please bear with me 😭 i hope you guys still enjoy it! 🥰

Sowon:

• manager kim sojung! 😳

• she's actually more of a bodyguard than the actual bodyguard.

• seemed very uptight and strict at first glance but she actually lets you do whatever you want as long as you don't get yourself hurt.

• blew up among your fans and trended in the media because she's so pretty.

• never hesitates to throw dirty looks towards people that push you around in public spaces.

• never afraid to talk back to those who hate on you for no reason. it doesn't matter if she was showing unpleasant behavior to everyone else, sojung will protect you no matter what.

• you refer to her as "manager kim" but as the two of you got closer, sojung was comfortable enough to ask you to call her by her first name 💓

• since the two of you hang out so much, there were multiple dating rumors that popped up in the media. surprisingly enough, mostly everybody was rooting for the two of you and they were disappointed when you denied the claims.

• sojung tries very hard to keep up with your, and the rest of the team's, energy and often finds herself in situations where she gets dragged in your ridiculous antics. one of them being unnecessarily goofy during live streams.

• she genuinely wants you to make it big in the industry, nothing would make her happier.

Yerin:

• jung yerin, your proud bodyguard and self-proclaimed 'arm candy'.

• so, before everything, yerin was your best friend since high school and she promised that she would go wherever you go. at first, you didn't think much of it because you were young and it was probably going to change once yerin finds something she wants to do, but nope! up until this day, she's still right there beside you 🥺

• may or may not have accidentally confessed that she had a huge crush on you for the longest time during the night you got your first award where your team celebrated by drinking.

• she always keeps you close to her at all times. sometimes out of habit, sometimes because it was literally her job.

• she's the most popular with your fans since she treats them so well, but of course she isn't always nice. yerin may not look like it, but she's perceptive so she's the first one who knows that some certain kind of 'fans' are being weird and gets super protective of you. going as far as to threaten those to act 'strange' around you.

• yerin and sojung are polar opposites, so it didn't surprise you when yerin showed signs of hostility towards your manager when they first met. but because of you, they got along well and now they drink soju every now and then, gossiping about you.

• other than sojung, your close relationship with yerin had people thinking that there was something between the two of you. but you were quick to deny that, saying that the two of you are only close friends.

• yerin doesn't mind that you don't reciprocate her feelings, she was more than satisfied by being beside you as you were living your dream of being a performer.

• she really is your biggest fan.

Eunha:

• your hair and makeup artist, eunha!

• a flirt through and through. when you first met her, she did not hesitate to throw a suggestive wink your way. did she know that she was going to be working with you? probably, but of course that didn't stop her.

• some would probably call it unprofessional to hit on your coworker, but you didn't mind it. in fact, the compliments she tells you out of the blue are some real confidence boosters, especially when you're about to perform in a big event.

• there's a new pickup line everyday! eunha smiles the brightest when you laugh at her little antics.

• even when you're in a bad mood, she always manages to crack a small smile in your face.

• "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

• "i'm from hell."

• "...well that explains why you're so hot."

• yerin was wary of her at first, but you assured her that eunha did not have feelings for you and that eunha is like that with everyone. eventually, yerin warmed up to her and now they flirt with you together.

• kissed you once when she was doing your makeup because she couldn't help it. it didn't mean anything, but eunha was one blushing mess that time.

• one day, you forgot something from the change room a few minutes before your performance at a show and you heard eunha singing her heart out to one of your songs. you made sure to give it your all at your performance that day to make your second biggest fan proud!

Yuju:

• your beloved vocal coach, choi yuju!

• she's like your second best friend (don't tell yerin). every lesson with her is like a casual hang-out with a classmate, sometimes it doesn't even feel like she's an actual professional because she's just that chill.

• can get pretty serious but at the end of the day, yuju just wants you to enjoy singing and not take it too seriously.

• along with yerin and eunha, yuju is also a big fan of your music! she often goes to instagram and promotes your songs to her followers and is always eager to gush about you with other fans.

• sometimes she helps you write lyrics for your songs and that's when she really gets serious.

• the last thirty minutes of your lessons turn into a messy karaoke battle that mostly end with you nearly dying of laughter because of yuju.

• she makes sure to guide you well while you're in the studio and she always compliments your singing to keep you in a happy mood!

• your instagram story is really just filled with you and yuju doing whatever during ungodly hours. sojung scolds both of you a lot, but knows that she can't fight it since the two of you will probably force her to join your late night adventures anyway.

• remember those karaoke battles? yeah, half of those aren't always intense and chaotic. as soon as a slow song plays, yuju starts singing with her whole heart and you have to admit that you've never been so attracted to someone's voice until you heard hers. maybe there was something more to that, but you were too afraid to look deep into it.

• pretty much everyone notices the obvious sparks between the two of you except, well, you and her.

• you never told yuju, or anyone, but one of your mellow and heart-fluttering songs was about her.

SinB:

• your wonderful dance teacher and choreographer, hwang sinb!

• just like sojung, sinb intimidated you a lot when you first met but then all of your first impression of her vanished when you found out how kind and genuine sinb really was.

• well, except when she's teaching you a new choreography. she's a real demon.

• sinb bullied you a little into the start of your career just to see if you have any fire inside of you but unfortunately for her, you kept your cool and remained level-headed despite the rigorous routines she put you through. when she saw that you were genuinely passionate about doing well, she grew fond of you.

• details are everything to sinb, so it warms her heart whenever you listen to every word she says and does every little thing she does.

• when she isn't being one hell of a dance teacher, she's a huge dork who always has lots of energy to spare.

• the main reason why your instagram posts are so pretty is because sinb is the one who takes the photos for you. you admit that your heart does jump when she tells you how pretty you are when you're posing for her.

• sinb also listens well to your comments about her choreography, and a part of her feels proud whenever you include subtle changes in your dance.

• when you struggle with a certain move, sinb makes sure to guide you through it step by step and that included close contact. something you dreaded but also looked forward to every time you step inside the practice room.

• there always seemed to be tension between the two of you when you're close, but neither of you acted on it.

• sometimes sinb would joke about it though, much to your dismay.

• "oooh you want to kiss me so bad."

• sometimes you clap back and render her speechless for the remaining of the day.

• "what if i do?"

• "...w-well. i mean, go ahead. not that i want you to! i just mean that... that i wouldn't mind— oh, screw you, (y/n)!"

Umji:

• your adorable and incredibly wise fashion stylist, kim yewon!

• she was shy around you at first, and vice versa. now, you aren't usually one to be so easily flustered but yewon was just too cute to you.

• even when you've spent quite some time around her, yewon still gets shy whenever she gets close to you to get your measurements and such. you tease her about it sometimes and she playfully hits you, cutely telling you to knock it off before she gets to work.

�� yewon always makes sure to get your input. the most you've probably heard her talk is when you're trying out whatever she made for the first time, asking if it was too bombastic or too safe, or if it felt nice or not.

• she wants you to be as comfortable as you can be on stage, and for that you are thankful.

• yewon can be a bit too harsh on herself. you often hear her muttering criticisms while she's taking notes. you always tell her that the outfit was fine and that it felt nice wearing it, but apparently those are not always the issue for her.

• she was afraid of you having a wardrobe malfunction on stage so she takes her time with her designs.

• you know it was part of her job, but your stomach spin a lot when she's adjusting some things in the outfit while you were wearing it because yewon was just so cute and her face when she's concentrated was quite... attractive.

• sinb likes to intensify the tension between the two of you. she 'accidentally' bumps into yewon and have her lean on to you for support and then she apologizes with the most unconvincing tone ever while she walks away with a grin. and you're left with your flustered stylist who suddenly cannot function properly due to the close contact.

• you never miss the way yewon stares at you for too long most of the time. it didn't matter if she was studying your features and proportions or if she was just simply checking you out, no matter what, you would always catch her eyes on you.

• when she realizes that she has been caught, yewon becomes a complete mess. she either drops everything and literally runs out of the room or make up a dumb excuse to save herself. either way, it was adorable and your heart warms up every time yewon shyly smiles at you.

• "i might melt into a puddle if you keep staring at me like that, yewonnie."

• "i wasn't s-staring you..."

• "oh? were you looking at our dear manager then? i didn't know you were into older girls!"

• "no! i'm definitely into you!"

• "...?"

• "i will see myself out, thank you."

[broadstbroskis]

four times your best friend ruined a date + one time he didn’t | mat barzal

a/n: once again, not the fic i set out to write this weekend, but here we have arrived! enjoy💜

the first

Look, no one has ever told you that you have a problem making your voice heard. You’re pretty chatty. Your voice carried. In fact, usually, people were asking you to stop talking, to lower your voice. 

Not on this date. Max from Tinder had let you say two things in the amount of time since you sat down at the table outside one of your favorite Mexican restaurants in Brooklyn: hello and your food order.

Your meal is good, as always, and the margs can’t come fast enough to drown out Max across from you. Each time you’ve tried to respond to something he’s said, he just talks louder. You’ve given up on this one. You’ll get a good meal out of this and never talk to this asshole again.

But then, you spot a familiar head of hair walking toward you on the sidewalk and you’re shouting out before you can help yourself. Like you can’t keep words in any longer and if Max from Tinder isn’t going to let you use them, you’ll just throw them out anywhere you can. “Mat!”

You almost laugh at your best friend, a 6’0 giant who often looked even larger, as he does a double take, but he is able to track down the sound. He grins when he realizes it’s you and he’s quickly by your side, wrapping his arm around you as you lean your head against his hip, the body part closest to him, and beam up at him. “What’s up?”

You nod over at Max from Tinder, whose face has soured, as he looks at Mat. “Just out.”

“We’re actually kinda in a thing right now.” Max from Tinder says to him, rather rudely, if you had to say. “So if you don’t mind,” He trails off, very pointedly, looking over at the sidewalk.

Your jaw actually drops at that, but Mat just grins and jumps the railing between the restaurant and the street. “I don’t mind at all, actually! I haven’t seen YN all week.” He yanks the empty chair over from the table next door and sits. “What’s new, babe?”

You can’t help but laugh at the look on Max from Tinder’s face as you answer Mat. “Nothing much, boo.”

“Seriously?” Max from Tinder asks, furiously, looking absolutely livid as he attempts to stare Mat down, who for his part, looks as calm as can be as he asks you how work’s been, what’s new with your family, what dumb shit your brother has got up to in his frat this week- all the usual things he’d ask you when the two of you were trying to catch up.

The final straw comes when Mat orders a marg of his own. Max from Tinder just stands up from the table and walks out the door. “What a douche.” Mat says, mildly, dipping a chip in one of the salsas on the table. 

“Look who’s talking!” You laugh.

“Sorry, what was that?” Mat feigns not being able to hear you. “A thank you for not making you sit here with him for any longer?”

You laugh again, pushing his favorite salsa closer to him. “Thank you.”

He beams back at you. “Anytime.”

the second

Ashley lets out a low whistle as you step out of her closet, fuck me heels carefully chosen from her collection to match the little black dress pulled from your own wardrobe. “Damn.” She whistles again and you flashback for a moment to freshman year, when she became your favorite roommate for doing the same thing the first time you went out together. “Where’s Kevin from Finance taking you?” You adjust the straps of the dress in her mirror as you drop the name of the expensive restaurant that your co-worker was taking you to for your third date. “Okay, yeah.” She laughs. “You’re putting out tonight.”

“Ashley!” You laugh, instead of dismissing her entirely. 

“I’ll expect a full run-down tomorrow.” She sing-songs at you, as you grab your clutch and walk out the door to meet Kevin from Finance in the lobby downstairs.

The two dates you’ve had with your coworker have been so far enjoyable- one to a beer garden on what has seemed to be the last warm fall day and the second to one of those axe throwing places with some friends- and despite the heightened atmosphere of this one, it starts off just as enjoyable with some easy conversation. Kevin from Finance orders a bottle of wine for you to split, and you commend his choice while you scan the menu for something to order.

For most of the night, you go back and forth, just crossing over what might be an acceptable line for flirting at the dinner table, but you both know where this is headed later. It was pretty clear to you in the way Kevin from Finance looked you up and down when he picked you up, in the way he caught you sneaking the same once over in return, how his eyes follow your tongue as it tries to catch a drip of wine.”

They darken as your cheeks flush and you try to distract yourself from thinking about where the evening is headed by taking another sip of wine, only to be interrupted by a surprise arrival. “YN?”

“Hey!” You greet Mat warmly, smiling up at him. “How are you?” He beams back at you, exchanging pleasantries. “What are you even doing here?” You tease. “Pretty fancy for an off day.”

“We’ve got a team thing.” He waves in the direction of the private room in back, which you had noticed was closed off for a private event, but hadn’t bothered to look into more. Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted staring at Kevin from Finance’s biceps straining in his dress shirt, you would have noticed a couple of the Islanders starting to file in. “And you must be the guy she’s been talking about.” He sticks his hand out to Kevin from Finance. “What’s up man, I’m Mat.”

But while you’d mentioned that there was maybe a new guy to Mat, you’d never mentioned that you knew Mat to Kevin from Finance, and that becomes clear the second you look over to him. His jaw is dropped, his eyes are huge, he makes no move to shake Mat’s hand; it’s like he’s frozen. “I’m a huge fan.” Kevin from Finance manages, finally, after what feels like forever.

Mat smiles, much more trained in this kind of situation than you are, because you’re looking your date like he’s got three heads. “Always good to hear, man! Make sure you take good care of our girl, here, eh?” He pats you on the shoulder and Kevin from Finance nods, more seriously than you’ve ever seen him do anything. “I have to head in. Stop on over for a drink on your way out if you want, okay?” Again, a nod from Kevin from Finance, even as you just hmm noncommittally.

And then, things get weird. For as nice and chatty as he was before Mat stopped by, now it’s like pulling teeth when trying to get Kevin from Finance to say something. He won’t meet your eyes, instead looking between the plate that sits in front of you and the room Mat disappeared into. “Can I help you with something?” You ask, finally.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He says, shaking his head.

“What?” You snap, annoyed.

“I can’t compete with that-him!”

“I’ll make it easy for you; there’s no competition.” You say flatly.

Kevin from Finance shakes his head again. “I-you-no. There’s competition!” He stands, dropping his napkin onto the table as your jaw drops. “Sorry.”

After being fucking ghosted in the middle of your date and apologizing profusely to the wait staff for having to immediately bag up both meals (that you had to pick up the check for, these better be the best fucking meals of your life), you make your way over to the Islanders’s private room and drape yourself over Mat’s back, as best you can. “You owe me a lot of drinks, sir.”

He’s surrounded by a few teammates and wives, who all immediately burst into laughter at his protests. “How do you figure that?”

“Because my date left me here because of you!”

Mat winces. “I was perfectly pleasant!” He pauses. “Today. To that guy!”

“Sorry,” Grace bites her lip, like she’s holding back a laugh. “There have been others, that you haven’t been?”

“Well yeah, but that guy deserved it!” It’s too late; they’re all laughing again. 

“This time it was your general existence.” You tell him, moving off his back, but staying close when his arm immediately reaches to wrap around your waist.

“This seems unreasonable.” Mat pouts. “That I owe you drinks just because you decided to date someone too insecure.”

“Dude, we’re not paying for anything here.” Tito reminds him. “Just give the girl her drinks.”

“I always knew I liked you best.” You smile at Tito, who returns your grin.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if you’re saying that later when I’m the one making sure you don’t fall all over the place in those shoes.” Mat grumbles, flagging down a waiter to take your drink order.

You grin up at him. “If you keep getting me drinks and make sure I get home in these shoes, you can have your Number 1 spot back.”

Mat sighs longsufferingly, like it’s going to be such a hardship for him, even though you both know that you’re the clingiest drunk who does absolutely anything that anyone tells you to and as soon as he drops you off in bed, you’ll be out like a light. “Deal.”

It’s not quite what happens-your clinginess extends to yanking him into bed and not letting him leave- but as soon as he settles next to you and you can curl up into his side, then you’re willing to listen when he whispers, “go to sleep,” as his hand moves to play with the ends of your hair.

the third

Can’t talk now. Have a date!!! You send Mat, after ignoring his FaceTime request, and then walk into the cute little cafe that Jake from College had suggested you meet at.

“Hey!” He grins at you, as you grab a seat at the table. “Did you find the place okay?”

You bust out laughing. New to the city, Jake from College had mentioned that he lived around the corner, and was still figuring his way around. “I’ve been here a few times before actually. I’ve been here long enough to navigate my way around pretty well.” You tease.

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

After placing your orders, you catch each other up on where you’ve been and where you’re at now. You chat about some of your mutual friends, gossip about whether or not you think Jack and Mallory will actually make it down the aisle, and talk a little about your families. 

“Yeah, so my brother’s frat has been-”

“Oh no.” Suddenly, Mat’s dropping into the empty chair beside you, throwing an arm around the back of yours, and there’s Tito slipping in across from him, not looking nearly as thrilled to be there. “What’s that kid up to now?”

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, ignoring his question completely.

“We were just grabbing a post-practice meal.” He says and Tito nods his agreement, but when you look across the table at him, studying his face carefully, he won’t meet your eyes.

“Okay.” You tell him, kind of annoyed that he interrupted what had been an otherwise good date. “So you’re going to grab your meals and go?”

“Well now that I know you have this big huge table…” Mat hints, and you’re all ready to tell him absolutely not, when Jake from College jumps in.

“Yeah, of course!” He says, and Mat grins. “I’d love to meet some more of YN’s friends.”

“Would you?” You mutter under your breath, dryly enough that Mat flicks your shoulder.

You don’t know what’s worse- that Mat, Tito, and Jake from College get along like a house on fire, or that after Mat and Tito show up, Jake from College barely says another word to you. Not because he’s so starstruck by their existence. 

Because they’re genuinely becoming friends. By the time all four of you finish with your meals, it’s like Jake from College has forgotten you’re even at the table, caught up in discussing tennis with Tito and making plans with both of them to play basketball next weekend with a couple guys they know.

When you part ways, he barely says goodbye to you, which is a slap in the face after the bro hugs Mat and Tito both get. “Don’t be mad.” Mat says immediately, when you round on him.

“Seriously?” You glare at him.

“It was a coincidence.” He says, maybe too pushy to be entirely true, and you remember the way Tito wouldn’t meet your gaze earlier, narrowing your eyes at him further.

“Right.”

“It was!” Mat insists and you really have no way of proving it wasn’t so you just huff back at him and start walking, knowing that they’ll be catching up behind you.

the twelfth

“What happened to I’m never dating another New Yorker again?” Ashley asks, watching you get ready to go out with yet another Tinder date.

You give her a look through the mirror. “Ashley, this one might be my dream man.”

“That’s what you’ve said about them all.” She advises. “And none of them have been,”

“I’ll just die alone then.” You tell her dramatically.

She snickers. “I don’t think that’s the case. I think there’s definitely a Non-New Yorker that is very willing to date you.”

You give her a look. “Oh yeah? Send him my way?”

“Hmm.” She says. “Don’t think I’ll need to. He manages to find his own way.”

“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about,” You say, fluffing your hair one last time. “Then I don’t think he’s willing to date me at all.” Not willing to watch you date other people, sure, that trend has become quite clear as Mat has crashed date after date in increasingly creative ways. But never once has he made a move toward you, or tried to ramp up his flirting game to anywhere close to where you’ve seen him bring it to girls he’s interested in bringing home.

For Christ’s sake, you’ve pulled the man into bed on multiple occasions- what more does he want from you to know that you’d be interested, if he was?

Ashley returns your look, through the mirrors. “I’m certain I am talking about who you think I am, and maybe if you would do more than just pull him into bed while drunk, he might do something about it.”

You can agree to disagree on this one. There’s been that, there’s been everytime you pout at him for ruining your dates, there’s been every function or event you’ve agreed to go with him to stand by his side for the entire evening in uncomfortable shoes and an uncomfortable dress, every smile you send his way. But you’ll digress the point for now. “Well maybe tonight I’ll be pulling Graham the Perfect Man into my bed while drunk.” You stick your tongue out at her.

She grins, stepping back from your doorway so you can head out. “Use a condom!”

Upon meeting Graham the Perfect Man in one of your favorite bars (with the best burgers), you quickly realize you might actually have nailed this one. His sense of humor is impeccable and he’s incredibly charming...or at least most of the time. He’s a bit of a one-upper, but you try to be positive about it and tell yourself that he’s just trying to impress you- who isn’t on a first date?

It becomes a bit frustrating because he balances it with his humor so well. Like when you start talking about summers spent at your family’s Jersey shore house, Graham the Perfect Man casually mentions his parent’s summer home in South France, but then instantly cracks a joke about red eye flights that has you actually crying you’re laughing so hard.

“Jesus, I could hear you laughing from all the way outside.” Mat drops an arm around your shoulders and squeezes in greeting.

“Come off it, you could not.” You protest, even as he grins.

“Guess you’ll never know for real.” He teases.

“Wow, are you rude!” You huff.

“Me? You’ve been sitting here, haven’t even introduced us.” You roll your eyes, but make the introductions between Mat and Graham the Perfect Man, which actually doesn’t go terrible until someone stops and asks to take a picture with Mat, which you snap for them politely, but does bring out Graham the Perfect Man’s one-upper.

“Hockey?” He asks, and continues before Mat even has a chance to finish nodding. “Can’t say I’ve got much taste for the sport. I was a baseball player. Starting shortstop for my college.”

“But you’re not anymore.” Mat says, kinda like a dick.

“Mat!” You hiss and he just shrugs, unapologetic.

“Just the history, the nuance.” Graham the Perfect Man continues like Mat hadn’t even said anything, and even you have to fight back a laugh on that one.

Mat just shrugs again. “Yeah, alright. Cool, bro.”

“Cool, bro.” Graham the Perfect Man repeats flatly, and you know what’s going to happen before he even stands up. “Yeah, this has been fun, but…maybe...another time.” And he’s out the door, just like your dreams of this maybe happening again, so you turn to your best friend, who’s just got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Mathew.” You frown at him.

“What? Come on, that guy was a tool!”

That...is so not the point. “Stop ruining all my dates!”

Mat scoffs. “All these dates with douchy guys that you don’t even like that much?”

“Yes!” You cry, absolutely done with this game. “Because unless you’re going to do something about it yourself, that’s who I’m still going to be dating.”

“What if I want to do something about it?” Mat says, looking down and avoiding your eyes.

You laugh, hollowly. “Sure, Mat. I’ll believe it when I see it.” And then you stand up from the table and walk out without him. If he’s going to ruin your dates, he can at least grab the fucking bill. He can fucking afford it.

+ one

When you don’t hear from Mat for the entire next week, you think that’s it. He talked himself up some big game, realized it’s not what he wants, and now he was trying to back out of it without making things super uncomfortable. You figured you’d hear from him in a couple weeks, when he’d send you a meme he found, and maybe you’d just never mention that thing you said about him dating you again.

Nope.

Exactly a week after you call him out, he shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers. “Uhh hi?” You look down at your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. 

“Hi.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, as he hands the flowers to you. 

“Did um-did we have plans tonight?” If he hadn’t tucked the flowers close to you, you’re pretty sure you would have dropped them, still trying to make sense of this. 

Mat grins. “We do now.”

“Um.” You repeat. “Can I...change first?”

He nods. “Yep.”

“Okay.” You take a breath, starting to get your jumbled mass of thoughts together. “Where are we going?

Mat grins again. “You’ll see.”

You eye him skeptically, but he’s not budging on that, so after you find something to put your flowers in (today’s winner is...a wine bottle), you run into your room and start searching through your closet. Mat won’t give you any hints about where you’re going, fine, you’ll just have to take your  hints from him. 

Moving quickly so as not to keep him waiting too long, you settle on a pair of jeans, booties, and your favorite sweater. A quick brush through your hair and a couple swipes of makeup and you deem it good enough. It’s certainly as good as it’s going to get since someone didn’t give you time to shower.

Mat smiles though, as soon as you walk back in, throwing things into the clutch you plan on carrying with you that night, but he doesn’t say anything or do anything or even move at first. “Are you ready yet?” You tease, standing at the door.

His cheeks flush a little, caught staring, but he jogs over toward you, while nodding. “Yeah, let’s go.” As soon as you lock the door, he’s slipping his hand into yours, merely smiling when you look up at him questioningly.

“Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” Mat grins, tugging your hand to pull you to the right. 

“Come on, really?” But he stands firm, instead asking you something about your day, which lasts all the way until he pulls you into your favorite restaurant, laughing when you realize it’s the end point. 

Dinner is amazing and the speakeasy he leads you to afterwards for drinks is as well. You spend half the time grinning at the place around you, wondering how he managed to find someplace so cool and then backtracking that thought, because, yeah, of course, he did. 

Mat’s smiling at you when you look back at him, eyes never leaving you, it seems, as he swirls his drink around in his glass. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.” You tell him honestly, which only widens his smile.

“So you’d be happy to do this again?”

“Do what again?” You ask, feigning innocence, solely to mess with him. “I don’t actually recall you ever asking me to do this in the first place.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, that big one he’s got that you love. “Can I take you out sometime?”

You nod, smiling as he leans across the table toward you. “I suppose it’s too late to say no.”

“Can I take you out all of the time?” He reaches out for your cheek, brushing his thumb along it.

“Well you do owe me a lot of meals.” You tease. This might better than any date he’s ruined, but you’re not about to let him off that easy. 

“I’m sure I can work something out with you.” He mutters, practically right up against your lips, before kissing you completely.