#another one in the 'to do list' so yeah... :')

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: It’s Just Cake

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, small-ish argument, pregnancy symptoms, one moment of slight jealousy and one tiny injury that sends Harry spiraling.

A/N: I spent a sold 36 hours debating on the outcome of this update and this just seemed to make the most sense so enjoy and sorry for any tears, hopefully they are happy ones?👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees

Summary: You see Harry three days in a row and you get a cake delivered ✨

“This one’s soft.” Harry just nods as he places a hand in on his hip while you give the pillow in front of you a good squeeze. “And very squishy.” You add and Harry doesn’t bother even responding because you’ve said the exact same thing about all the pregnancy pillows you’ve touched during the fifteen minutes the two of you have been in the store. So instead he just leans his back against the shelf and runs his hand through his hair while you move on to the next pillow that he’s sure will also be soft and squishy.

You look at the pillow in front of you and let out a sigh because you don’t really want one and you don’t think you need one right now but Harry swears your lack of support on your back and bump is why you’ve been having issues sleeping. Resulting in the two of you standing on the aisle that has all the pillows that help with sleep and breastfeeding in the boutique down the street from your work on your day off, the same one he saw you and Ethan in a few weeks ago. But instead of offering you his opinion on which pillow to get he’s been oddly quiet, keeping a safe distance from you and you wonder if he’s the one having issues sleeping due to his late nights with the girl Ethan told you he was seen with just last week.

“I read that one’s good.” You turn your head at the sound of his voice, it’s quiet and lower than normal as he points to the pillow currently in your hand. “Gives you back and belly support and it’s not massive like the others are and you already said it’s soft-”

“And squishy.”

“Yeah. So I say give that one a try and see how you like it? And if you hate it we return it and get another one.” He offers before he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

You just look back at the cream colored pillow in your hand and give it one more squeeze before deciding it’ll do and you’ll give it a try. When go to pull the pillow off the shelf you don’t even give it one tug before Harry’s ring clad hands are grabbing it for you and pulling it off the shelf in one quick movement. You can’t help but notice how effortlessly he tosses it into the cart you have next to you and you have to remind yourself it’s just a pillow not a heavy sack of potatoes when a small blush begins creeping onto your cheeks. You want to smack a hand over your face when you catch yourself staring at his arms that are being shown off by his tank top, something you’re extremely used to seeing him in since he normally stops by your apartment in the mornings after a run of before he’s due at the gym. But for some reason you feel like his black tank top and questionably short maroon running shorts are a bit more distracting today than usual.

“Did you hear me?” You jump slightly as Harry’s voice snaps you out of your daze making your eyes instantly connect with his instead of where they were just fixated on the muscles in his arm flexing as he grips the handle of the cart so he can push it for you.

“Sorry what-what did you say?” Harry looks at you with concern etched on his face as he gives you a quick once over. Your cheeks are red and your eyes have this glazed over appearance to them and you have a hand clutching at the pendant at the end of the chain you wear everyday while the other one is resting on your bump.

“Are you feeling okay?” He questions with a furrow in his brows as he notices the way you swallow thickly while briefly letting your eyes dart to his hand that’s wrapped around the handle of the cart.

“Uhm yes I’m totally fine why do you ask?” You ask as you do your best to appear as normal as possible, running a hand through your hair after you clear your throat and blink a few times before meeting his eyes once more so you can offer him a small smile. Acting as if he didn’t just catch you staring at his hand that has his signature initial rings snuggly tucked up against the knuckles of his pinky and ring finger.

“You just look a bit out of sorts that’s all.” He says making you let out a very forced laugh as you give him a shrug.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Harry raises a brow as you motion to his outfit causing him to look down to check himself out but when he doesn’t see anything out of place he looks back over at you just to find you’ve turned away from him and have begun walking down the aisle a few steps ahead of him.

“You’re sort of worrying-”

“I’m fine Harry really just got a bit of a hot flash that’s all.”

“A hot flash?” He doesn’t remember you telling him about hot flashes before so he feels a little confused as he pushes the cart a safe distance behind you so he doesn’t accidentally hit your ankles when you suddenly stop to look at something.

“Yeah a hot flash. I’ve had a few randomly but-oh look at these.” You try your best to distract him from your flustered state with a pair of tiny newborn sized socks. You grab them off the shelf and hold them in your hand as you turn to face him. “Look how small they are.” You mumble as you look down at them and run your thumb over the soft material.

“Do they need socks right out of the womb?” Harry asks as out of pure curiosity since he’s only seen babies in socks when they out of the house or in posed photos on people’s social media accounts.

“I think so because it’s nice and warm in here.” You tell him as you place a hand on your bump while the other holds the tiny socks out to him so he can get a better look at them. “So you want to try to make them all warm and cozy once they are out.” Harry just nods as he looks at the tiny pair of socks that fit in the palm of his hand and when you take a glance at him you can’t help but smile as he takes a moment to try to imagine one of the twins being big enough to wear the socks while also being tiny enough to fit both their feet in his hand.

“How can something be so small but also big at the same time?” It’s a thought he doesn’t mean to voice out loud but then again he doesn’t mind letting you hear his inner thoughts because you just take a step towards him so you can look at his hand that looks even larger than it normally does as it easily fits both socks in it.

“Considering right now they are only the size of bananas everything kinda seems big.” You begin to explain while Harry just stares at the socks. “But then when they actually get to wear the socks their feet will look so tiny in them.”

“Bananas? So you’re about-”

“Twenty weeks.”

“Which means we can-”

“Yup.” You finish for him since you already know what he’s going to ask. Harry stares at you as your hands fall to your bump while you rub your lips together as the two of you silently take a moment to sit with the knowledge that at your appointment with Dr. Andrews tomorrow you’ll be able to find out the genders of the babies you’re carrying.

“So did you-”

“Are you seeing someone?” Harry feels his body go stiff at your question that you all but shout at him as you begin to rub your bump, something you tend to do when trying to calm yourself down. You watch as the pair of socks fall out of Harry’s hand as he blinks at you a few times while opening and shutting his mouth as if he doesn’t know what to say and his mind and body are at odds with one another making him look like he’s struggling to make sense of what’s happening around him.

“I uhm don’t-what what exactly do you-uh I’m not no-no no I’m uhm not see-seeing anyone.” The way he fumbles through his answer makes you raise an eyebrow at him while he quickly bends down to pick up the dropped pair of socks so he can just toss them into the cart and worry about if you actually wanted to buy them later at the checkout since he’ll already have to argue with you about letting him pay for everything anyway.

“So the girl you were seen with in the green dress isn’t anyone?” You have no clue why you’re asking him these questions in the middle of a baby boutique but you’ve spent the past few nights wondering about it so you figure you might as well get it over with and see what he has to say for himself.

You continue to rub soothing circles over your bump as Harry stands there trying to figure out who exactly you’re referring to because his mind has all of a sudden become void of anyone he’s hung out with recently that wasn’t you or his mother. But when for the life of him he can’t recall anyone wearing a green dress he just lifts a shoulder up in a casual shrug and shakes his head.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about?” You let out a sigh as you roll your eyes, not at all shocked his memory is messing with him because that seems to happen anytime he meets a girl and has a decent time with them on a night out.

“Figures you can’t remember the girl you walked out of a club with the night you told me you had plans with your mom and that’s why you couldn’t come help me hang the curtains in the nursery.” Harry grips the handle of the cart with both hands as if it’s the only thing capable of keeping him steady as he’s hit the with memory of the night you’re referring to. “Must’ve been quite a night then.” It’s the casual tone of your voice that has Harry worried because it doesn’t at all match the look you’re giving him.

You’re eyes are slightly narrowed in a glare but there’s something hidden behind the glare that he can’t quite put a finger on, but he has a feeling it’s something along the lines of hurt or jealousy but he doesn’t see why’d you be jealous so he leans more towards you being hurt over the fact you think he lied to you.

“I did have plans with my mom we had dinner together.” He explains as you look away from him and towards the pregnancy pillow sitting in the cart. “And that girl she’s just a friend who needed a ride home-”

“And she couldn’t call an uber? She had to call you?” You know you sound like an untrusting girlfriend but you just blame your hormones making you feel as if he’s still keeping something from you.

“I was just trying to be a good friend. She doesn’t know a lot of people here she’s from New York and-”

“It honestly doesn’t matter I just don’t like feeling like I’ve been lied to that’s all.” You state deciding you don’t really want to hear anything else about the girl in the green dress. Harry gives you a small nod when you finally look back up at him, he doesn’t know why the idea of you thinking he lied to you makes his heart drop a bit.

“I understand and I’m sorry.” He doesn’t really know what he’s apologizing for but it just seems like something he needs to do in the moment, and honestly it’s something he’s becoming an expert at doing considering how many times he’s said those exact words since meeting you. “I hope you know I’d never lie to you. I may be an asshole but I’m not a liar.” You playfully roll your eyes as you look at him with a quirked brow.

“You don’t lie? Harry you told me I looked good in black and red polka dots last week.”

“And you did? You looked like a lady bug with your black leggings and polka dotted cardigan.”

“I looked like a bug? Bugs aren’t cute.”

“Lady bugs are cute.” You try to ignore the way your heart flutters at his roundabout way of calling you cute so you just let out a chuckle before turning around and heading down the aisle. “Besides there’s a clear difference between lying and just telling you something so you don’t get your feelings hurt.”

“So you’re saying I didn’t look good you just didn’t want to make me upset?” Harry wishes Niall was here to give him a smack upside the head as you pause and look at him over your shoulder. He rushes to shake his head no and push the cart further down the aisle towards where you’re standing near the end of it.

“No of course you looked cute-I mean good you looked good.” You place a hand over your mouth to stop your laugh from being heard throughout the store while Harry just glares at you as he realizes the trap he just walked into. “You’re in a mood today Cranky. Let’s hurry up and get this pillow so you can go take a nap.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself but a nap isn’t going to fix it but you know what might?” Harry doesn’t even have to think before he’s answering your question.

“A green juice with no carrots and extra apples?” The smile you give him makes his insides feel all warm and he has to stop himself from laughing at how you’re already licking your lips at the thought of your current favorite juice recipe.

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask who uh told you about me being out the other night?” He asks as you turn to go down another aisle, he has a strong feeling he knows who gave you the information but he just wants to hear it from your lips.

“Ethan.” Your voice sounds like you’re distracted and when Harry looks up he sees why, you’re standing there wrapped up in a fuzzy robe that’s about two sizes too big for you with a grin on your face as you let out a sigh of content. “I’d be able to snuggle both of them at the same time in this.” Harry watches in amusement as you grab two stuffed animals off the shelf in front of you next to the hanging robes and act out what it would be like holding two babies at the same time cuddled in the robe.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Oh you’re just mad I don’t want to snuggle you in this thing.” You snap making Harry have to look away when your eyes meet his, his cheeks and the back of his neck getting hot as he struggles to keep a stupid smile off his face.

“Didn’t you just have a hot flash? Should you even be wearing that right now?” He asks with a hint of worry in his voice making you roll your eyes as you put the stuffed animals in the cart so you can shrug off the fuzzy robe.

“Next time someone tells me how fun you are I’m going to tell them to have a baby or two with you and they’ll really see just how fun you can be.”

“Forgive me for caring about your wellbeing.”

“I don’t think I can because I really liked that robe.” Your eyes are a little big and your bottom lip is poked out a bit as your head tilts to the side giving the robe one last look as you hang it back up. Harry just lets out an annoyed sigh as you make your way down the aisle, an obvious stomp in your steps making him roll his eyes at your dramatics.

“Yeah you need a nap.” Is all he says as he grabs the hanger with the robe on it and tosses it in the cart on his way down the aisle where you’ve stopped to look at a set of onesies.

You can feel the anticipation building in the room as you and Harry stare at the white envelope sitting on your kitchen table. Having picked you up for your appointment before work he also took it upon himself to walk you back to your apartment where you informed him Dr. Andrews had given you the results of the gender scan you had done during the appointment since at the time neither of you felt ready to know quite yet or more so you just didn’t feel like crying in front of your doctor, again. But suddenly the idea of knowing if you’re carrying two boys or two girls or maybe one of each feels like something you desperately need and want to know so you asked Harry to stay a bit before running off to do whatever it is he does during the day.

“Will you open it?” You ask as you still stare at the envelope with the name Styles written on it while rubbing your hands over the soft material of the t shirt that’s currently covering your bump.

“Me?”

“No Harry the ghost standing behind you.”

“But this is a big deal I’m-I’m not properly dressed for-”

“Properly dressed? Harry you’re not opening the envelope that tells someone they just won a Grammy.”

“Well yeah this is way more important.” He states as he runs a hand through his hair before he turns his attention to you and he almost jumps back a bit when he sees how intensely you’re already staring at him. You don’t give him time to ask if you’re okay before you’re turning and heading into your kitchen for your water bottle you accidentally left on the counter due to rushing down to meet Harry in the parking lot so he wouldn’t be able to tell you that you were going to make the two of you late for your appointment when he helped you get into his passenger seat.

“You’ve done gender reveals before so just act like this is one of the times a fan asked you to read it on stage or something.” Harry rolls his eyes as his hands land on his hips while turning to look at you as you take a sip of water.

“This is different than opening a fan’s envelope this one is for my- sorry our babies so it’s a bit more intense.” You let out a sigh as you place your water bottle back on the counter and if Harry wasn’t on the verge of an anxiety attack he’d probably take a moment to appreciate how adorable you look when you’re throwing a tiny fit about not getting your way.

It’s something he’s witnessed a few times during his morning juice visits, the long exasperated sighs that come with a hand on the hip and a glare to whatever view of his head you have at the time. But what really gets him is when you sometimes rub your bump and lean down so you can whisper to it things about how he’s being a big meanie or something equally as silly and untrue. He imagines this is something you’ve always done, throw tiny fits when things aren’t going your way or you feel out of control and he can only assume your pregnancy hormones are just exasperating those emotions making you have at least one tiny tantrum a day.

“Would you open it if you weren’t in jeans and a t shirt?” Harry’s glare answers your question. “I mean you’re the one who said you aren’t properly dressed so I’m just asking if you’d open it dressed in a Gucci suit or is it just you don’t want to open it?”

“I mean of course I want to open it but I’m-I’m nervous. And I don’t even know why? It’s just a bloody envelope.” He mumbles and you get it, you understand how he’s feeling because it’s exactly why you can’t bring yourself to open it.

“Maybe someone else should open it for us?” You suggest making Harry rub his lips together as his eyes dart back to the envelope that’s now just mocking him as it sits there unbothered and unopened on your table. “Oh what about your mom? She could open it for us!” Harry looks over at you as you take a few steps so you’re back to standing next to him, your eyes glued on the envelope.

“You’d be okay with her knowing before us?” He feels the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile when you just shrug and nod your head.

“Of course and she’ll probably figure out a way to tell us that’s super cute and not just some words stuffed inside an envelope.” He can’t argue with you about that since he knows that exactly what his mother will do. He watches you reach over and grab the envelope and hold it out for him. “So just give it to her and let her do the rest. Only if she wants to though don’t make her feel forced to do this Harry or I’ll be very upset.” Your voice lets him know you’re not kidding about not forcing his mom into anything and he just has to laugh at you trying to be threatening while twenty weeks pregnant.

“Trust me she’ll be thrilled to be the one to tell us.” He informs you making you feel a little better about the whole thing once he gently takes the envelope from you so he can carefully place it in his back pocket. “Do you need anything before I go?” You just shake your head with a smile before he begins to turn and head towards your front door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Harry pauses as he reaches your front door and slowly turns around and raises a brow while looking down at the floor as he tries to think of his plans for tomorrow.

“I can come over if you need me-”

“You still haven’t hung up the curtains in the their nursery.”

“Oh shit that’s right.” He feels his face get hot as he realizes how long it’s been since he told you he’d do that for you. “Then yeah I’ll uhm see you tomorrow.” You give him a smile as he turns back towards the door so he can reach for the doorknob.

“Have a good day.” You half shout over your shoulder as you turn to head down the hallway to your room so you can start getting ready for work. Harry quickly lets go of the doorknob and lets out a sigh as he looks over his shoulder, of course you forgot he can’t lock the door when he leaves because he doesn’t have a key.

“You have to come-” He stops talking when he hears you muttering what sounds like some sort of curse word from the hallway making him chuckle and shake his head as he waits for you to reappear.

“Lock the door.” You finish for him with a groan as you walk back into the living room towards the front door where Harry is standing with a playful smirk on his face. “Sorry one day I’ll remember.” You reassure him but it doesn’t do much as he just rolls his eyes before opening your door and stepping out into the hallway.

“Have a good day at work and let me know how the pillow works tonight because if you still hate it we can return it tomorrow.” You just nod as Harry stands in your hallway just outside your door, the place you thought he’d be staying the whole duration of your pregnancy but to your surprise, his knowledge of how to make green juice and actively trying to do better has earned him access to the inside of your apartment.

“Have a good day Harry.” You say with a smile that he returns before he watches you close your door, waiting a few moments to make sure he hears the locking sound before he turns to head towards the elevator.

“Nice to see you’ve been promoted from hallway dad to inside the apartment dad.” Harry instantly feels a strong bubbling of annoyance in the pit of his chest as Ethan steps out of his front door just as Harry walks by.

“What’s your problem?” Harry asks as he stops heading towards the end of the hall and turns around so he can face your neighbor who also happens to be one of your bestfriends.

“What’s my problem? I think the real question is what’s your problem Harry?”

“I don’t have one but you seem to have this weird thing with me that makes you unable to stop yourself from being an asshole.”

“I mean you’d know all about being an asshole wouldn’t you?” Harry wants to wipe the smug looking smirk off his face but he knows that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do because you’d hear it and come out and be upset and he also is very aware of who he is and can only image the issues he’d face if the press found out he hit someone in a random apartment complex’s hallway. So instead Harry goes for the jugular in a different way, one he knows will pack more of a punch than if he used his fists.

“You know Ethan for someone who claims to be such a good friend to her,” Harry motions towards your front door making Ethan quirk a brow at him as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You sure did cause some damage with the information you chose to share with her about me being seen with someone last week.” Ethan’s jaw clenches as he takes a step forward, his eyes set in a harsh glare aimed directly at Harry.

“You wanna know why I told her about you and the tacky green dress girl?” Harry ignores the comment about his friend’s dress and just shrugs as Ethan takes another step towards him, his hands now at his sides and his eyes still set in a glare. “Because she shouldn’t have to find out that sort of thing from a magazine cover or someone texting her the photos. I wanted her to find out from someone who cares about her who would be there to help her deal with the emotions that the knowledge of you going out and living your pretty boy pop star life while she feels unable to go out and do things because she’s pregnant would stir up.” Ethan’s voice is harsh as he stands right in front of Harry, staring right into his eyes.

“And guess what the only question is that she asked me after she told me some bullshit about how you’re allowed to be seen with whoever you want because you’re single.” Harry swallows as Ethan rolls his eyes when he talks about the excuse you gave him prior to asking him about the girl Harry was seen with.

“What did she ask you?” He has a feeling whatever Ethan is about to tell him is going to make him upset he just isn’t sure which type, anger or sadness.

“Was she pretty.” The harshness of Ethan’s voice is gone and Harry swears he almost sounds as if he’s holding back his emotions as he lets out a dark chuckle and shakes his head. “She wanted to know if the fucking girl you were seen with was pretty. What does that tell you Harry? Huh? What does that mean to you?”

“I don’t-I don’t know what it means.” There’s a thousand thoughts swirling around Harry’s head as Ethan looks at the floor and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down before looking at Harry again.

“Let me fill you in on something pretty boy.” Ethan reaches over and places a hand on top of Harry’s shoulder only making him slightly nervous. “Just because you can’t remember the night you met doesn’t mean she can’t. She remembers meeting someone she thought liked her enough to give her his number and a promise of a call the next day. She remembers that same person telling her how much he liked her and couldn’t wait to see her again. And she also remembers the feeling of being ghosted by that same fucking guy but as fate would have it she has to end up being the one to text him to tell him she’s pregnant and here’s the real kick in the ass Harry you’re going to love this part.” Harry knows for a fact he isn’t going to like the next part because he knows what’s coming, he knows exactly what Ethan is going to say and he feels his heart drop to his feet.

“She remembers the feeling of him telling her he doesn’t remember meeting her. The guy she thought was so amazing and everything she’s looking for in someone she’d like to be with doesn’t fucking remember meeting her. So now she’s stuck feeling all these weird emotions because she really liked you Harry like really liked you and now you’re her baby daddy who sometimes is an asshole and is sometimes a nice guy that just doesn’t remember anything about her.” Ethan ends his rant with a not so soft pat to Harry’s shoulder before he takes a step to the side so he can go around Harry and head to the elevator.

“So next time you think I’m the asshole who doesn’t care about her remember I’m the one who’s been here for her since she came home drunk and on cloud nine the night you two met.” He adds from a few steps behind Harry, who can’t seem to get his feet to work as he stays standing in the exact same spot. Ethan takes his silence as a sign that maybe Harry is doing some deep thinking into how he hasn’t really thought about how you must feel dealing with him during all of this, and that’s just what Ethan wants, he wants Harry to realize how deeply effected you are by not only his words but his actions as well.

“Fuck.” Harry says with a groan as he runs both hands through his hair giving it a slight tug as he closes his eyes and does his best to get ahold of himself. When he opens his eyes he runs a hand over his face and turns to head towards the stairwell, deciding he doesn’t want to risk having to share an extremely awkward elevator ride with Ethan down to the lobby.

The only thing keeping Harry together is the envelope securely tucked into his back pocket and the fact he’s on his way to see his mom who although she can be meddlesome always has an open ear to listen to his problems and offer whatever advice she can. And in this case he knows what she’s going to say because it’s what she’s been saying to him since she found out he’s been going to your house every other day, he likes you and needs to just acknowledge it and either act upon it or move on. But for some reason he just never thinks he’s ready for either option so Harry just keeps doing what he’s doing, helping you with whatever you’ll allow him to and visiting you in the mornings so he can make your juice and get caught up on how you’re feeling. As he walks towards his car once he makes it down to the lobby and into the parking lot something inside of him switches letting him know he can’t keep going on like this, he needs to sit and think about his feelings towards you because clearly he’s hurting you and that’s the last thing he wants to do since he’s promised himself he’s done being an asshole.

“That’s not level.”

“What? Yes it is I have a level in my hand and it’s saying it’s perfect.”

“Then the level is lying to you because that rod is very much not level.”

“It’s lying to me? Really?” You cross your arms over your chest as you stand next to one of the cribs while Harry takes a few steps back so he can look at the curtain rod he just finished hanging above the window. He furrows his brows as he bites down on his bottom lip while his hands rest on his hips as he realizes the rod is hanging down a bit lower on the left side. “It’s not level.” He states followed by an annoyed sigh as he steps up on the step stool so he can undo the left side.

“Tell me when it’s level then will you?” He asks over his shoulder making you just nod as you take a small step backwards. He raises the rod up a tiny bit and when you don’t say anything he raises it up just a bit more causing you to squint your eyes as you try your hardest to tell if it’s level or not.

“I think that’s good.”

“You think?”

“It’s perfect. Totally level.” You correct yourself making him let out a huff before he secures the rod to the wall. Harry is stepping down off the step stool when he hears it, the faint sound of you saying “ouch” followed by a painful type of hissing noise.

Before you can even register what’s happening you feel Harry’s hands on you, turning you around from where you’re leaning over one of the cribs to grab the curtains for him to place on the rod he just put up. His hands are soft but his hold on your arms is firm but not too firm that you feel like he’s squeezing you as his wide panic stricken eyes quickly roam all over your face before he steps back only enough so he can look for any obvious source of pain or an injury of any kind. Once you realize what’s happening you decide to end his search and hold out your hand that has a few very small cuts on the knuckles of your index and middle finger where they somehow got caught between the crib and the zipper of your zip up hoodie when bending over resulting in the zipper scratching up your knuckles the tiniest bit.

“Does this happen a lot?” You can tell by his voice that Harry is panicking as he takes your hand in both of his so he can examine the damage done to your knuckles.

“Does what happen a lot?”

“Getting hurt on things like cribs and zippers?” He asks with furrowed brows as he ever so gently runs a thumb over your knuckles, just above the scrapes so he can see if they need anything other than just a bandaid.

“I mean I’m a little clumsy sometimes but no-”

“Clumsy? As in you fall a lot and run into things?”

“First off that’s not the definition of clumsy it actually means awkward in movement or in handling things or to do something without skill or elegance and difficult to handle.” Harry has to fight the urge to roll his eyes but instead he just focuses on how small your hand looks in his while he looks at the cuts on your knuckles that are already starting to form little bruises around them. “So when I tell you I’m clumsy it doesn’t mean I fall a lot it means I drop things every now and then.” You explain with a huff as you look down at your hand that Harry is examining as if it’s a priceless jewel that’s not to be handled with anything other than feather light touches and the occasional gentle rub of his thumb.

“So you don’t fall a lot then?” He asks while dropping one of his hands from yours so he can turn around and lead you out of the nursery. You don’t bother trying to fight him so you let out a sigh as you just let him lead you by the hand out of the room and down the hallway.

“Not really no.” You answer once the two of you are in the kitchen. Harry just nods as he pulls out a chair for you to sit in at the kitchen table, to his surprise you sit down without a word or a huff and he silently thanks you for letting him fuss over you with a small smile before he turns to head towards your small medicine cabinet you have next to your fridge.

“But what if you do fall one day and no one is here?”

“Uhm then I just get up and go on with my day? What kind of fall are-”

“I don’t like you being here alone when something could happen at anytime and I’m fifteen-twenty minutes away.” You feel your eyes go wide as Harry finally finds the box of Disney themed bandaids, pulling out one with Belle on it and finding it very fitting since you have a deep love of books as well.

“Harry I’ve lived alone for a very long time and been just fine.”

“Okay well that was before-”

“Before what?”

“You got pregnant with my twins.” His words make you sit back in the chair and blink a few times as he runs the hand that’s not holding your princess bandaid over his face. “I think I’m allowed to worry about you being alone a lot when you’re walking around with-with my whole world inside of your belly. Because what if next time something happens it’s not just a little cut on your hand? What if it’s serious and I can’t get here in time to help you?” Out of instinct you place your hands on top of your bump as he tells you exactly why this little scrape on your knuckles has caused such an intense reaction.

“I worry about you and just want to know you’re safe that’s all.” You feel a lump start to form in your throat as he lets out a shaky breath before he turns to look at you.

“I understand.” Your voice is strained as you try to swallow down the emotions that want so desperately to start bubbling over. “I just don’t know how to help you not be so worried.” You tell him truthfully, because at the moment you have no clue how to help ease his anxiety about you being alone if something happens.

“I take it you don’t fancy the idea of just moving-” A sudden knock makes both of your heads turn towards the front door. Harry takes the interruption to really think about what he was about to say to you, asking how you felt about moving in with him, even if he didn’t quite mean it as seriously as you might’ve taken it he was still only a few seconds away from letting the words fall from his mouth and that takes him by more of a surprise than the knock that stopped it from happening.

“Are you expecting someone?” Your voice takes him out of his brief moment of deep thought as you look away from the door and towards him with a raised brow.

“Me? This isn’t my house why would I be expecting someone?” You just shrug as you make a move to get up but are quickly stopped by Harry standing in front of you holding out the bandaid he picked, making a small smile appear on your face when you see it’s Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

“I’m not expecting anyone.” You state as you raise your hand for him so he can place the bandage on your scraped knuckles before turning and heading for your front door so he can answer it for you. He imagines whoever it is that’s expecting you will be quite shocked to find him on the other side of the door but that’s an issue he will deal with once he has to.

“Check the peephole before you open it Harry it could be a weirdo.” You call out to him as he gets closer to the front door causing him to roll his eyes before he leans in and looks out the tiny peephole on your door.

“There’s no one out there so maybe it was just a delivery?” You raise an eyebrow as you lean over a bit so you have a direct line of sight to your front door allowing you to watch Harry open it to reveal a white box with a pink and blue bow tied around it. “It’s a cake.” He says as he bends down to carefully pick up the box so he can bring it inside.

“A cake? I didn’t order a cake.” You begin to go through your memory of the last few days as Harry kicks your front door closed with his foot before walking back towards you in the kitchen with the box in his hands. “Did I order a cake in my sleep? No. No way I- I haven’t done that in months.” You mumble to yourself making Harry send you a questioning glance as he places the cake down on the table in front of you.

“You’ve ordered a cake in your sleep before?”

“Oh has Mr. Popular never ordered something while half asleep? I highly doubt that.” You tease as Harry reaches for the card that’s taped to the top of the box before sitting down in the chair next to you.

“It’s from my mom.” He says in a very confused voice but as he goes to read the rest of the card he sees your fingers grab the top of it yanking it out of his hands.

“God have some manners this is my cake so it’s my card so let me read it.”

“Uh it said to the lovely parents to be making it our cake and our card.”

“Why would she send a cake for both of us to my apartment?”

“Because she knows I was planning on hanging the curtains for you today.” He answers as he begins to undo the bow, careful not to ruin it because he has a feeling you’re going to want to keep it for sentimental reasons. While you read over the card he opens the box and as soon as he sees what’s written on the cake he feels his stomach do a weird flip.

“All it says is-Harry? What’s-”

“This isn’t just a cake.”

“What do you mean it’s not-oh my god.” Your words turn into a whisper as Harry turns the box towards you so you can read what the top of the cake says. His eyes watch your reaction closely as you bring the hand that’s not clutching the card up to cover your mouth.

“It says we’re having twins with three little dots at the end so that-” Harry swallows before he looks at the cake that you’re still staring at with wide eyes as your hand goes from covering your mouth up to your forehead as you begin to breathe a little heavier. “That means it’s going to tell us what we are having.” He finishes with a heavy sigh.

“Okay this is fine we will just act like it’s a normal cake and honestly this is great because at the end of the day we get to have cake and who doesn’t like cake?” Harry just goes along with your anxious rambling as you begin to fan yourself with the card while he stands up from his seat so he can carefully take the cake out of the box and place it down on the table.

“I’m gonna go grab uhm plates and a-a knife.” You don’t even bother nodding as you stare at the cake in front of you that somehow holds the answer to an extremely important question while Harry stumbles his way into your kitchen on the hunt for two plates and a knife. “Okay so how do you want to do this?” He asks once he’s back sitting next to you.

“Uh maybe I’ll cut it with my eyes closed and-”

“You want me to let you hold a knife with your eyes closed? After you already had to get a bandaid not even ten minutes ago?”

“Okay then just cut it a piece and put it on a plate.” You answer as you stop fanning yourself and place the card on the table next to the cake so you can reach over and hand Harry the knife.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this kind of anxiety before, and he knows it’s just the anticipation of finally finding out what you’re carrying but he can’t help how shaky his hand is as he holds the knife over the cake. He shoots you a look and when you just nod at him as you chew on your bottom lip he takes a deep breath and cuts into the cake. You feel like time moves in slow motion as Harry cuts a piece and puts it on the plate in front of you, both of you stare at it for a solid minute before you can process what exactly you’re looking at.

“That’s pink.” He whispers as you let out a sniffle while you nod your head.

“And blue.” You feel your eyes begin to burn as you look at the piece of white cake that’s been dyed blue for two layers and pink for the other two with a thin layer of vanilla icing in between each layer.

“A boy and-and a girl? We’re having a boy and a girl.” Harry’s voice is watery as he finally looks away from the cake and over to you and when your eyes meet it’s as if the flood gates open and the tears begin to roll down your face.

Before you can even make sense of what you’re doing you fling your arms around Harry and pull him into an awkwardly angled hug, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he wraps his arms around you in return. He tries to hold his emotions together but as soon as he feels you give him a squeeze he can’t help but let a few tears slip past his waterline. When you pull away a few moments later you grab Harry’s hands and place them on your bump, letting your hands loosely grip his wrists.

“Edward and Nora.” The grin that spreads across Harry’s face as you say the names the two of you agreed on last week makes your heart want to explode as you place your hands over his.

“Hello Edward James and Nora Anne Styles I’m-I’m your dad and I can’t wait to meet you.” He says with a smile as he leans down so he’s closer to your bump making a whole new wave of tears want to flow down your cheeks but you do your best to blink them away.

“I hope they have your eyes.”

“Yeah? Even though they’re big and dumb?”

“More importantly they’re green.” Harry laughs at your response as he rubs his thumbs over the soft material of your shirt that’s covering your bump. “Oh god where’s Paris? I need to tell him he’s going to have a brother and a sister.” You begin to look around the kitchen for any signs of the orange cat trying not to feel overwhelmed by how good and normal it feels having Harry rub and talk to your bump.

“I’ll go find him.” Harry says with a smile as he gives your bump one last gentle rub before you lift your hands off of his allowing him to get up from his seat. You give him a smile when he looks at you one more time before heading down the hallway to check your bedroom, but the moment he’s out of sight you let out a deep breath and try to get a firm grip on your emotions not wanting to let this moment cause you to slip into a dangerous line of thinking. The type that ends with you starting to envision Harry around all the time, doting on you like he did earlier with the bandaid and just being as normal as a couple the two of you could be. But you know for that to ever happen he’d have to actually have some sort of feelings for you and as far as you know he just sees you as someone who’s having his babies that he now can tolerate being around.

“Holy shit.” Harry mumbles as he runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat at the end of your bed. He takes a minute to think about everything that’s just happened in the last five minutes. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he finally starts to come to some sort of conclusion about how he feels about you. His moment of peace is short lived as he hears a bell jingle and soon feels the softness of fur rubbing at his ankles. “Can you keep a secret?” He asks the orange cat as he looks up at him from where he’s sitting next to Harry’s right ankle, his favorite one to snack on Harry has learned. When Paris just tilts his head Harry does something risky and bends down and gently picks him up but to his surprise Paris just nuzzles his head into the crook of Harry’s neck and starts purring.

“I think I have a crush on your mom.” He whispers to Paris who doesn’t do anything besides purr a little louder as Harry smiles and stands up so he can bring him to you. “Don’t tell her okay?” He adds in a hushed voice and when Paris just moves his head a bit to get comfortable Harry feels like he has finally done it, he has earned the trust of your very picky and very protective cat and takes that as a good sign that he’s made the right decision in acknowledging his feelings about you, now all he has to do is figure out how to tell you.

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Claire Debella x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 10.7K

Warnings: slight smut warning so as always MDNI

A/N: so this is very quickly becoming a series I’m on around 4 parts now…. Whoops? If anyone would like to be added to a tag list for this please comment on this post xo🪻💜

By the time Claire had done with you your legs felt like jelly.

You laid there for a while after, stretched out against the cool sheets, skin still flushed and sensitive as Claire ran her hands over your body like she owned it. And she did, at least in moments like this- where it was just you and her, no one else, no outside noise.

But reality hit quickly as soon as you heard the second overhead announcement for brunch. With them. Your stomach twisted at the thought. You had no idea what to expect after last night’s disaster.

"You’re nervous," Claire murmured, tracing her fingers down your arm.

You exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

Claire pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "It’ll be fine."

You didn’t answer, just rolled onto your side, forcing yourself to get up. You had no choice but to face them.

~

The black bikini was dangerous.

You knew it. Claire knew it. But that didn’t stop you from wearing it anyway, pairing it with a sheer black cover-up that barely covered anything, sunglasses perched on your nose, your lips still kiss-swollen from Claire’s very thorough apology.

Claire was practically drooling. She didn’t even try to hide it, either- her eyes raking over your body shamelessly, fingers trailing along your waist as the two of you made your way to the outdoor dining area where everyone was gathered.

"You’re killing me, baby," she murmured low in your ear.

You smirked. "Good."

The second you stepped onto the deck, all conversation seemed to pause- just for a second, just enough to make you feel it.

“Hey! There you are!" Before you even had a chance to react, Whisky was on you, throwing her arms around you, her long hair smelling like coconuts and salt water.

"You survived," she smiled, squeezing you tight. "Come on, let’s get some food before Duke eats everything."

Claire barely had time to react before Whisky was dragging you toward the buffet table, her toned arm looped through yours, her body pressed against your side. The jealousy that flared in Claire’s chest was immediate, burning, but before she could do anything about it-

"Claire!" Birdie’s loud, excited voice cut through the moment as she and Duke appeared, effectively cornering Claire before she could storm after you.

"Good morning future senator!" Birdie beamed, sipping something that was definitely not coffee. "Last night was crazy, huh?"

Duke let out a gruff laugh. "Shit was wild."

Claire forced a strained smile, her eyes darting toward you across the deck. "Yeah, totally."

She barely heard whatever Birdie was rambling about. Because across the deck, Whisky was leaning in too close, laughing at something you said, her hand lingering on your arm. She should be paying attention to Lionel talking about developments at work but instead, she was watching you, across the deck, sipping something out of a tall glass while Whisky kept talking to you, her body angled toward yours in a way that made Claire’s jaw tighten.

"You’re staring." Lionel’s voice snapped her out of it. Claire turned her head sharply, only to find him raising an eyebrow at her over his coffee.

She rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to look away from you. "No, I’m not."

Lionel hummed with a knowing smile, unconvinced, but said nothing else. Birdie, oblivious as ever, was positioning herself on a sun lounger as if she was shooting for a magazine. “Peg can you get me another one of these please?” She handed her empty drink to her bone tired assistant.

"So what do we think this trip is about?" Claire looked around at her oldest friends.

"I don’t know but I wouldn’t get too comfortable," Lionel muttered.

"Well I already sold my soul, so bring it on," Duke added through a mouthful of bacon.

Birdie scoffed. "Ugh, you guys are so cynical." She took a sip of Claire’s drink, "I mean, sure, last time he did tell us we had to cut Andi off, but like, that was different. It was a really bad time for us all. And he was just, you know, protect himself."

Claire shot her a look. "Jesus, Bird."

Birdie frowned. "What?"

"He wanted us to pick a side- his side.” Claire sighed “He wanted to make sure we knew who was in charge now.”

Lionel nodded, rubbing his temple. "And we let him."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Because they had let him.

They’d all been sitting in that same goddamn living room the night Miles told them so casually that Andi was out, that he had social network-ed her and if they wanted to keep their connections, their financial backing, their entire lives, they’d need to fall in line.

And they had.

Claire exhaled sharply, taking a sip of her kombucha despite the early hour. "So the question is- what’s he trying to pull this time?"

Lionel ran a hand down his face. "Nothing good."

"Ooh, maybe he’s finally gonna branch out into social media and wants us to promote it!" Birdie clapped her hands together. "I mean that’s like the only thing he hasn’t bought into yet right?"

Duke snorted. "If that was the case, I’d know about it."

Lionel side-eyed him. "Would you, though?" He doubted if that was the case, Duke would be the best candidate after he’d recently settled out of court for profiting off selling illegal boner pills to teenage boys on his twitch streams.

Before Duke could answer, a loud, self-satisfied voice rang out from the entrance of the deck.

"Good morning, my friends!"

Miles.

The man himself strolled toward them, exuding that same smug, self-appointed guru energy that made your skin crawl.

"Let’s eat!"

The table was long, stretching down the deck, draped in crisp white linens. The Mediterranean sun cast warm golden light over the scene, reflecting off crystal-clear glasses and plates of extravagant fresh fruit, smoked salmon, eggs, pastries- whatever Miles deemed luxurious enough for his closest friends.

Claire sat with Lionel, Birdie, and Duke, all of them picking at their plates while waiting- for what, they didn’t know yet. Claire watched as Miles took his seat at the head of the table, looking over the group like he owned them. And, in a way, he did.

She felt you before she saw you. You had followed the group to the massive dining table on the deck, but rather than taking the empty seat beside Claire, you let Whisky tug you toward the far end of the table, sliding into a seat beside her, still caught up in your conversation.

Claire’s grip on her glass tightened. She wasn’t sure what irritated her more- the fact that Whisky was treating you like her new best friend, or the fact that you were letting her.

Miles took his seat at the head of the table, clapping his hands together. "So!" He leaned forward, scanning the group. "Let’s get to it. Tell me- how are we feeling? What’s the vibe? Are we inspired? Are we challenged?"

Birdie beamed. "I feel amazing."

Duke grunted. "Hungover."

"Like I need more coffee." Lionel pinched the bridge of his nose.

Claire just hummed in agreement with Lionel as she took a sip of coffee.

Miles laughed, shaking his head. "Love this. I love you guys"

Then his eyes landed on you. "And you." His grin widened. "The new addition to our group. Tell us how you capture the heart of our dear Claire?"

The table went silent, all eyes falling on you. You blinked, caught mid-sip of your orange juice.

You lowered your glass slowly. "I don’t know, Miles." You tilted your head, voice light but pointed. "You’re the one who does background checks on all your guests. You tell me."

Claire smirked. Lionel made a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a laugh. Even Duke looked mildly impressed.

Miles just chuckled, swirling the green juice in his glass. "Ahh, I like you." He shot Claire a knowing look. "She’s quick, Claire."

Claire smiled over at you, resting her hand on the table closer to your side, even though you weren’t sitting next to her. "Yeah," she said, voice tight. "I know."

Miles just leaned back, contemplative, as Birdie launched into a whole monologue about her recent escapades in New York. And Claire- well, Claire was going to kill you for making her so goddamn obsessed with you.

Miles grinned, swirling his ridiculous green juice again. "Oh, don’t be like that," he said, all charm and calculated warmth. "I’m just making sure my inner circle is taken care of."

You barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. Miles acted like this was some generous act, some noble offering, rather than what it really was- a reminder that he knew everything about the people in his orbit, including you.

Before you could snap back, Birdie- who had been watching you this entire time, eyes flitting over your body with a jealousy glare. Birdie wasn’t used to someone younger and hotter than her getting the attention she craved.

"Well," Birdie said, tilting her head. "I don’t know how you two even met. Tell me, Claire."

Before Claire began she patted her lap. And you- already halfway through your second mimosa, warm and still buzzing from the way she had made love to you that morning- smiled, playing along as you got up from your chair and sank down onto her lap. Claire felt your warmth against her thighs, felt the way you curled into her so easily. She smirked, letting her fingers slide through your hair, nails grazing your scalp as she tucked a strand behind your ear.

Miles’ lips parted, her jealousy barely hidden behind an impressed expression.

"Mmm," Claire hummed, fingers tangling in your hair. "You wanna tell them, baby? Or should I?"

You gave her a soft, knowing smile. "You tell it better," you murmured.

Claire’s hand slid down, resting against your bare thigh under the table. "Well," Claire said, exhaling with a little laugh as she looked at you, softening at the memory. "It was-"

~ Flashback ~

Claire’s husband sighed, exasperated. "Baby, come to bed."

She barely heard him.

She was curled up on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, a half-empty glass of wine on the table beside her, and your book clutched in her hands. Her eyes raced over the pages, devouring each word. It was past midnight, she had an early campaign meeting that morning. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, her body begged for rest- but she just couldn’t stop. The story had wrapped itself around her, dark and sharp, pulling her in like an unstoppable tide.

"Claire." He ran his hands down the couch to her shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

She flicked a hand at him, not looking up. "Don’t you dare touch me right now, I’m reading."

Her husband let out a frustrated breath before giving up and going to bed alone. Claire didn’t care, she had spent years feeling suffocated. Years playing the role of the perfect wife, the ambitious yet composed woman beside her husband. Always supporting, always agreeing, always being who he needed her to be. But lately, she had been slipping away.

At first, it was little things- staying out later at the office, taking long walks just to be alone. Then, she found the library. This gorgeous, old-world library, tucked into a quiet street near their house. A safe haven. And then, she found your books. At first, she had picked up the first one on a whim. By the time she finished it, she was already rushing back to the library to get the next one.

Even at work, her mind wandered. Sitting in a meeting, nodding along as a colleague droned on, she found herself itching to go home, to pour a glass of wine and curl up on the couch, to lose herself in your world again. It had been so long since something had made her feel this alive.

By the third book, it was an addiction. She practically sprinted to the library that afternoon, heels clicking against the floor as she made her way to the familiar shelf, reaching for the next installment. But to her horror the space was empty. No book. Claire froze, her stomach plummeted. She turned, scanning the shelves as if it had been misplaced. Nothing.

Finally, she rushed over to the front desk, fingers drumming against the wood as she waited for the librarian to look up.

"Hey," Claire said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. "I’m looking for the next book in that series- you know, the one by Y/N Y/L/N?"

The librarian smiled knowingly. "Ohh, yeah. It’s not out yet."

Claire blinked. "What?"

"The third book won’t be out for another few months."

Claire’s stomach sank. "No. No, no, no…" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You’re telling me I have to just wait?"

The librarian laughed. "Why don’t you just ask her what happens?"

Claire frowned. "What?"

The librarian gestured toward the far side of the room. "She’s writing it over there right now."

Claire’s breath caught in her throat as she turned round and caught sight of you. Sitting at a corner table, laptop open, fingers moving across the keys, brows furrowed in concentration.

Claire stilled. You were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her heart skipped. Her mind went blank. For weeks, she had been consumed by your words, your mind, your world. And now, you were right there. Sitting in the same room as her. A living, breathing obsession. She swallowed, pulse hammering.

And for the first time in a long time, Claire Debella felt completely, utterly out of control.

~ End of Flashback ~

Claire’s fingers traced lazy circles against your thigh as she smiled into her glass, still lost in the memory.

"Well," she finally said, dragging out the word, "it was a library, actually."

Duke frowned. "A library?”

Birdie snorted, taking a sip of her mimosa. "People still go to libraries? Claire, since when did you go to libraries?”

Claire shot her a look. "Since I found something worth reading.”

You felt her grip on your waist tighten, just slightly.

Birdie tilted her head, intrigued. "So what, you just bumped into each other between the shelves?"

Claire smiled, shaking her head. "Not exactly." She glanced at you. "I read her books first."

Lionel hummed, clearly amused. "So you were a fan first."

"A big one," you teased, nudging Claire’s jaw with your nose.

Her fingers dug into your thigh, and you knew that if you weren’t in front of everyone, she’d shut you up with a hard, claiming kiss.

Instead, she let out a low chuckle, pressing her lips against your temple. "Careful, baby."

Birdie sighed, sipping dramatically from her drink. "Ugh, I hate couples."

Duke gave an easy grin, ignoring the jab. "So Claire finds a book, gets obsessed, and just has to meet the woman behind the words? Sounds like a movie."

You bit back a smile.

Claire had deliberately left out the part where she had devoured your books like a woman starved. How she had dreamed about you before she even knew your name. How she had fantasized about you, your voice, your mind. How meeting you had felt like a collision course she had never seen coming. How within months she’d divorced her husband for many years and moved you into her home.

"Sounds romantic," Whisky said, voice sweet, eyes warm as she looked at you.

Claire tensed. You felt it instantly- the way her body stiffened, the subtle tightening of her grip on you. Possessive. Jealous. Whisky had barely said anything, and yet Claire was already bristling.

And Miles- of course Miles noticed. He leaned back in his chair, smirking, before turning to you. "So tell me, Y/N," he mused. "You swept our dear Claire off her feet- but what made you want her?"

And just like that, the whole table was looking at you. The whole table was waiting. Miles, with that smug, knowing grin. Birdie, sipping her mimosa with wide, expectant eyes. Lionel, barely paying attention, already tired of the conversation. Duke, lounging in his seat like this was some kind of show. Whisky, watching with a soft kind of curiosity. You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of Claire’s hand on your bare thigh, the way her fingers curled slightly, as if reminding you that you belonged to her.

Her eyes were flicking between you and Miles like she was waiting for him to twist this into something ugly. But he couldn’t. Because you wouldn’t let him. So you turned, shifting on Claire’s lap, meeting her gaze with a small smile before leaning in, pressing a kiss to her lips. Soft. Sure. A statement. Claire melted against you, her grip easing, her lips parting slightly in surprise. And then you pulled back, just enough to see the flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes before you spoke.

"Because Claire Debella is the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met."

"Her drive, her ambition-” you continued, voice steady, heart pounding. "She has dedicated her entire life to making the world better. Fighting for people who don’t have a voice. She stands in rooms full of men who have never taken a woman seriously a day in their lives, and she makes them listen." Your hand found hers, lacing your fingers together.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." You smiled at her.

Claire sucked in a quiet breath.

"And I love her more than anything." You breathed.

A beat. The sound of the waves against the yacht. The warmth of her body against yours. Then Claire grabbed you, fingers tangling in your hair as she kissed you fiercely, swallowing the breath from your lungs.

Nothing delicate, nothing soft, just her- unapologetic, consuming, yours. When she finally pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours, her breathing a little uneven, you swore you could feel how hard her heart was pounding. There was nothing left to say. It was just you and her.

"Damn," Duke muttered, cutting through it like a dull knife. He leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily, as if he wasn’t about to let something dangerous slip out. "Bet your ex-husband Devon took the news real well- wife leaves him, becomes a lesbian-”

Claire froze. You felt the shift before you saw it. The way her body tensed beneath you, fingers twitching where they rested against your hip, the way her breath hitched- not in that breathless way she got when she kissed you, when she needed you. But like someone had just sucker-punched her. Like someone had just ripped something from her hands.

"Oh my god," Birdie gasped, eyes going wide, her mimosa sloshing over the rim of her glass as she clutched at Duke’s arm like she’d just made the discovery of the century. "Claire, you dark horse!”

You felt sick. Because Birdie knew. Not everything, but enough. Enough to put together the one thing Claire had worked so hard to bury. That Claire Debella- rising political star, defender of the people- had been unfaithful. And you had been the reason. Claire barely moved. Her expression- carefully neutral, but her grip on you was like a vice, nails digging into your bare thigh. Like she was bracing. You could see it- the way her mind was already working, already calculating. She wasn’t just embarrassed. She wasn’t just caught off guard. She was scared. And that terrified you.

"Wait so," Birdie was still talking, leaning forward now, one manicured finger pointing accusingly in Claire’s direction. "Are you telling me that you cheated? Claire Debella, cheated? Oh, wow, I love this. I feel so much better about myself now."

"I-" Claire finally opened her mouth, voice unusually stiff, but before she could say anything…

“Birdie, for fuck’s sake," Lionel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Can you not?" He asked, clearly aware of how this conversation was affecting his friend.

"What?" she blinked, genuinely confused. "I’m celebrating! Claire’s always been so moral- ‘Oh, Birdie, think before you speak! Oh, Birdie, you can’t tweet that! Birdie, child labor laws exist for a reason!’- but this? This is messy!"

"Jesus Christ Bird," Claire muttered under her breath, looking away, nostrils flaring slightly like she was fighting the urge to snap.

"But that is interesting," Miles finally spoke up, slow and smooth, leaning his elbows onto the table as he studied Claire like she was something he’d just uncovered. Something he could use. Your stomach sank.

"I mean," he continued, all faux-curiosity, "I know you two have been keeping things private, but... well, Claire, if I’d known you had a thing for pretty young creatives, I could’ve introduced you to some screenwriters in LA."

Her fingers curled tighter around your thigh.

"It wasn’t-" she started, then stopped. She was stuck. Because what could she say?

"So what?" you finally said, voice sharper than you intended, drawing their attention back to you. You kept your expression cool, gaze steady. "She fell in love with me. What does it matter how it started?"

Birdie snorted. "Because it’s juicy."

"Because," Miles cut in smoothly, "Claire’s whole thing is integrity. The hardworking, ethical politician. The moral compass. The people’s champion." He tilted his head. "And this doesn’t quite fit that image, does it?"

Claire’s jaw clenched.

She was furious but she didn’t say a word. Because she couldn’t. And Miles knew it. He had dirt on her now. Claire Debella was indebted to him. Financially. Politically. And now- Personally.

"Oh, relax," he said, waving a hand. "Your secrets are safe with me."

You felt Claire’s pulse pounding in her wrist as she wrapped her arm around you. "We’re done here," she muttered, standing abruptly, guiding you up with her, her grip on your waist unyielding.

Birdie giggled into her drink. Miles just smiled. And as Claire pulled you away from the table, heart pounding, teeth gritted, you both knew this wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

The wind was softer down on the lower deck, the salt air warmer, the distant sound of water lapping against the yacht almost enough to drown out the tangled thoughts in Claire’s head. Almost. She barely reacted when you pulled her into a kiss- deep, grounding, your hands framing her face like you were reminding her, like you were centering her in something real. And maybe she needed that, because she melted into you, her grip tight where it rested against your waist, like she was starving for something steady. It wasn’t desperate, not yet, but it was needy. Like a tether. Like if she held you tight enough, maybe the world wouldn’t collapse beneath her feet.

She pulled away just enough to exhale, her forehead pressing against yours, breath warm, body tense.

“Are you okay?" you murmured.

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "No."

Your fingers traced the nape of her neck, soothing. "Talk to me."

Claire sighed, shifting so she could lean against the railing, arms crossed, head tilted toward the ocean. "This isn’t good," she muttered. "They know. Miles knows."

You frowned, stepping closer. "Claire, it’s not like you killed someone. We’re together. That’s the big secret?"

Her jaw clenched. "You don’t understand."

"Then help me understand."

Silence. Her fingers tapped idly against her bicep, a nervous tick.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Claire, would it really be so bad if people knew about us?"

She turned to you sharply, something flashing in her eyes, but before she could protest, you pushed forward "I mean it." Your voice was quieter now, tinged with something fragile. "I get that we had to be careful at first, that you were still… figuring things out, that you then were going through a divorce, that politics is a whole... thing. But it’s been two years."

Her throat tightened.

"I pay rent for an apartment I never go to," you continued, voice wavering. "Just to keep up appearances. We live together, Claire. I wake up in your bed, cook in your kitchen, walk your dog, exist in your space. And I love it, but-" You swallowed. "How long do I have to be your secret?"

Her expression faltered, something wounded flickering across it. "It’s not like that," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what is it like?”

Silence. She turned back to the railing, hands gripping it, gaze fixed on the water like it had the answer she was looking for.

"It’s not just about me," she said finally. "You think it’d be good for me? Maybe. But it’s not just me. You have no idea what people will say about you."

Your arms crossed. "I don’t care-"

"Well, I do!" She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before turning back to you. "They’d tear you apart. They’d call you a gold digger. They’d say I manipulated you. That you seduced me for influence. That you’re too young-"

"I don’t care what a bunch of rich assholes think."

"It’s not just them," she said, voice strained. "It’s the media. It’s everyone. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life picked apart like carrion. You think you can handle it, but you don’t know."

You hesitated. She was scared. Not just for herself, for you. "Claire…"

"And what if this ruins me?" she asked suddenly, voice sharp, but her eyes… her eyes were uncertain. "I’m still a woman in politics. It doesn’t take much for the tide to turn. If people think I’m untrustworthy-"

"You were untrustworthy when you were married to a man and cheating with me," you snapped before you could stop yourself.

She stiffened. A muscle feathered in her jaw.

"That’s not fair," she bit out.

Your stomach twisted. "Claire I-”

"I know what I did. I know what that looks like. But this- this is different."

"Is it?" You sighed, rubbing your temples, feeling the remnants of your hangover creep in. "Look, I get it," you said, softer this time. "I get why you’re scared. But I’m scared too, Claire. I’m scared that I’m always going to be something you hide."

She flinched, just a little.

"I just... I love you," you whispered. "And I don’t want to feel like I have to prove that."

"You don’t," she murmured. And when she kissed you this time, it wasn’t out of desperation. It wasn’t trying to distract or silence or mask. It was gentle. Steady. Like a promise.

But when she pulled away, you still saw the fear in her eyes. The hesitation. The choice she still hadn’t made. And that? That told you everything.

You saw Lionel approaching before Claire did. The tense line of his shoulders, the focused pinch in his brow- it wasn’t unusual. Lionel always looked like he was carrying the weight of the world, and in some ways, he was.

“Hey Claire.” He smiled sympathetically

Claire sighed, already exhausted, running a hand through her hair. She barely looked at you before stepping toward him. Like this is more important.

Maybe it was.

But after that conversation- after seeing the hesitation in her eyes- you weren’t sure where that left you. So you stepped away. Your fingers ran absently along the yacht’s sleek railing as you put distance between yourself and Claire, a familiar ache settling in your chest. You weren’t sure where you were going, only that you needed space.

“Hey,” a voice called.

You looked up to see Whisky striding toward you, already sipping on something in a ridiculous crystal glass. She was wearing a tiny yellow bikini that left very little to the imagination, and you could feel Claire’s lingering possessiveness like a ghost at the back of your neck.

“Want one?” she asked, holding up a second glass. “Miles gave it to me, but it tastes like grass.”

“What is it?” You inspected the glass with her name engraved on it.

She wrinkled her nose. “Jared Leto’s hard kombucha.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Of course Miles drinks Jared Leto’s kombucha.”

“Want it?”

You hesitated, then smiled. “Sure.” You took it, taking a cautious sip. It was disgusting.

She grinned, like she knew.

“C’mon,” she said, nodding toward the pool. “Let’s go in.”

You exhaled slowly, glancing back toward Claire. She was deep in conversation with Lionel, brows furrowed, arms crossed. You nodded. Whisky beamed, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the pool’s edge.

You flinched when a gunshot cracked through the air. Duke laughed loudly before tucking his gun away and launching himself into the pool with a massive cannonball, drenching everything in his radius.

You blinked, completely thrown.

Whisky just sighed, shaking her head as she waded into the water. You followed, still watching as Duke resurfaced, shaking the water from himself like a dog and grinning like an idiot.

You glanced at Whisky, lowering your sunglasses. “Okay,” you said. “I have to ask- what do you see in him?”

She snorted, running her fingers through her wet hair. “Like, really?”

You nodded.

She tilted her head, watching Duke fondly as he wrestled Birdie off of a floatie, the two of them laughing like idiots. She sighed, shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s... good to me.”

You raised a brow. “Good?”

Whisky rolled her eyes, waving a hand. “I know, I know. But he is. You only see the ‘MEN’S RIGHTS, FREE SPEECH, GUNS’ version of him.” She mimicked his deep, obnoxious voice, making you snicker. “But he’s also just- dumb and loyal and... weirdly sweet. He makes me feel safe.”

You took another sip of your drink, considering. “Is that enough?”

She hesitated, expression flickering. Then she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is for now.”

That answer didn’t sit right with you. But maybe you weren’t one to talk. Because as much as you loved Claire… you weren’t sure if you were enough for her.

The yacht pulled smoothly into port, the golden Sicilian sun casting long, shimmering reflections across the deep blue water. The coastal town ahead was breathtaking- old stone buildings stacked up along the cliffs, narrow streets winding like veins through the historic architecture, the scent of citrus and sea salt heavy in the warm air.

You stepped out of the pool, still feeling slightly unsteady from the events of the morning. Claire was behind you, wrapping a towel round your shoulders, her hand grazing the small of your back in a silent reassurance.

Then, with his signature obnoxious flair, Miles stepped forward, spreading his arms wide. “Ahhh, Sicilia!” he declared, like he personally owned the place. “I thought we could all use a change of pace- something different, you know?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. The others murmured in vague agreement, some more enthusiastic than others- Birdie gasped dramatically, pulling out her phone before Peg immediately snatched it back with a warning look.

Miles grinned. ��So! Before we return to the yacht for a very special banquet, personally curated by my Michelin-starred chef-” of course he had to remind you all of that “-I thought I’d make things a little more fun.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte-black credit card. Or rather six of them. One for each of you.

“This is unlimited,” he said smoothly, tossing one to Lionel, then Claire, Birdie, Duke, and Whisky. Then, finally he handed one to you.

Your fingers closed around it uncertainly, feeling the cool weight of it in your palm.

“This,” Miles continued, “is a gift. A token of our friendship. Because that’s what this group is all about- loyalty, trust, taking care of each other.” His eyes gleamed knowingly, like there was a second meaning beneath his words.

You saw Claire’s jaw tighten.

“So,” Miles clapped his hands together, breaking the tension, “go all out! The card works for 4 hours so hurry to get what you need to get dressed to the nines tonight. The theme is opulence- expensive, extravagant, no limits.”

Birdie practically screamed. “Oh my God, Miles, you angel, you saint! Peg, let’s go!” She grabbed Peg’s wrist and practically dragged her off to get ready for an intense few hours of shopping before Peg could protest.

Duke whistled, flipping the black card between his fingers. “Hell yeah, brother.” He threw an arm around Whisky. “C’mon, baby, let’s find you something real nice.”

Whisky shot you a quick look before letting Duke pull her along.

Lionel sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, sure, why not? It’s not like this trip could get any more ridiculous.”

That left just you and Claire. You glanced at her, still holding the black card between your fingers. She wasn’t looking at you, she was looking at Miles. She wasn’t thrilled about any of this. You exhaled softly, reaching for her hand. Her gaze flicked to you, then to the black card you held. Finally, she sighed.

“Well,” she said, voice lighter than her expression. “If we’re going to play this game, we might as well win it.”

You sighed, intertwining your fingers with hers. “Let’s go be opulent.”

The door to your suite clicked shut behind you, sealing you and Claire into the cool, air-conditioned haven of your shared room. You stepped away immediately, running a hand through your hair, still gripping the sleek black credit card between your fingers.

Claire watched you closely, her arms folding across her chest. “You’re quiet,” she noted.

You shrugged, moving toward the suitcase you had barely touched since arriving. “I’m just getting changed.”

You felt her move before you saw her- the deliberate steps of her sandals against the hardwood, the subtle shift in the air as she neared you. Then, suddenly her hands slid around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against her. You inhaled sharply, feeling the familiar warmth of her body press into yours, the silk of her outfit cool against your bare skin.

“Baby,” Claire murmured, her lips grazing the side of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You swallowed hard. “Do what?”

“Pull away from me.” Her hands wandered, palms sliding up your stomach, fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts as she kissed just beneath your jaw. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“I know you’re upset,” she whispered, pressing her body against yours. “But we do have time…” She kissed the shell of your ear. “For me to make you feel good.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the edge of the dresser. God, she was good at this. At unraveling you. At making the world outside her touch seem irrelevant. At making you hers. You turned in her arms, pressing a hand to her chest to keep some semblance of distance.

“Claire…”

Her lips were parted, her pupils blown wide with desire as she searched your face, desperate for a crack in your resolve.

You exhaled, smoothing your hands over her waist. “We better hurry,” you said softly. “Everyone’s waiting at the dock.”

Claire’s expression darkened for a split second- frustration flashing across her face before she masked it with a tight smile.

She hummed, straightening her spine. “Of course.”

Then, before you could step away she grabbed your chin, tilting your face up, and kissed you hard. It wasn’t just a kiss- it was a warning. A reminder. That you belonged to her. That no matter how distant you tried to be, no matter how much you tried to pull away, she wouldn’t let you.

When she pulled back, her thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip. “Put on something pretty,” she murmured. “I want to show you off.”

And with that, she turned on her heel, heading toward the bathroom to fix her hair, leaving you standing there, heart hammering, lips tingling, and stomach twisting with an emotion you weren’t sure you could name. You swallowed hard, shaking your head, and went to change.

~

The moment you all stepped off the yacht and onto the sun-drenched port, Birdie let out a delighted gasp.

“Oh my god,” she practically moaned, spinning in place to take in the picturesque streets of the Sicilian town before you. The cobblestone streets were lined with boutique shops, cafés spilling out onto the walkways with tiny iron tables and chairs, their tabletops adorned with vases of fresh flowers. Brightly colored awnings shaded windows filled with designer pieces, handmade jewelry, and intricate ceramics.

Birdie turned to Claire, eyes sparkling. “Okay, we have to find you something in a colour other than beige.”

Claire exhaled, giving her a flat look. “I wear colors.”

Birdie snorted. “You’ll look so cuuuute.”

Peg, who was already holding three of Birdie’s bags despite them just having left the yacht, sighed. “Can we focus?”

Miles clapped his hands together, the picture of a gracious host. “Alright, my beautiful disruptors- go crazy.”

“Fuck yeah man,” Duke beamed, rubbing the card between his fingers. “This is why you’re the goat.”

“Nothing but the best for my inner circle. Now go and have fun.”

“This’ll be so good” Whisky beamed.

“Try not to bankrupt me, kid,” he teased.

Lionel, however, was watching Miles carefully, brows furrowing. “So, you’re not coming?” he asked, arms crossing.

Miles flashed a casual smile, waving a dismissive hand. “Nah, I’ve got some business to sort out. You know how it is, the tiring responsibilities of being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar empire.”

Lionel’s frown deepened. “Right.”

Whisky, who had been adjusting the straps of her tiny sundress, turned toward Miles with a pout. “Well, I’ll miss you.”

Before anyone could react, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

Miles chuckled, his hands resting low on her back, lingering just a second too long.

Your eyebrows shot up. Claire, who had already been watching you like a hawk around Whisky, saw the whole thing and immediately rolled her eyes.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath.

Miles finally pulled back, brushing a strand of hair behind Whisky’s ear. “Don’t miss me too much,” he murmured.

You and Claire exchanged a look. Yeah. Suspicious as hell. Claire sighed, then grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she turned away from the yacht.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go spend Miles Bron’s money.”

As you walked off into town, the laughter and chatter of the group surrounding you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something about this trip, about Miles, was more than just a luxurious getaway. Something was off.

The town square was alive with movement, locals and tourists alike weaving through the stone-paved streets, the scent of espresso and fresh pastries lingering in the warm air. Birdie had immediately taken off, dragging Peg behind her toward a boutique with a window display that practically screamed exorbitantly overpriced.

Duke, meanwhile, had positioned himself in the middle of the square, holding court like he was on one of his live streams. He had one foot propped up on a fountain ledge, aviators pushed onto his forehead, a self-assured grin on his face as he talked to Lionel about how the woke mob was ruining masculinity and how he was in some kind of on-going Twitter beef with Jimmy Kimmel.

Whisky stood at his side, silent and poised, her usual charming smile plastered on as Duke kept her tucked under his thick arm like some kind of trophy.

You barely had time to process any of it before Claire grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a quieter street, away from the group.

“We’re leaving them?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

Claire didn’t break stride. “I cannot spend another second with Whisky.”

You frowned. “Wow. You really don’t like her, huh?”

The distaste was evident in the way Claire exhaled sharply through her nose, “Can you blame me?” she said, voice dry. “She’s so…” Claire made a vague, frustrated gesture. “ I mean her names Whisky.”

You snorted. “That explains nothing.”

Claire stopped in front of a store, glancing at the designer dresses in the window, but it was obvious she wasn’t really looking at them.

“She’s young,” Claire muttered. “And… naive. And uses it to her advantage.”

You crossed your arms. “So do a lot of people”

“Yes, but she… ” Claire exhaled, looking away, jaw tight.

You suddenly understood. “Oh my God,” you said slowly, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “You’re jealous of Whisky.”

Claire scoffed, turning back toward the window. “That is not- ” She cut herself off, arms crossed. “She weaponizes it. That whole innocent wide-eyed act? It’s bullshit. And you-” Her eyes flicked back to you, sharp. “She likes you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Claire’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And I don’t like that.”

Your smirk widened. “Aw. Is someone feeling territorial?”

Claire rolled her eyes, but you could see the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to grab you, to pull you into her and remind you exactly whose arms you belonged in. Instead, she exhaled and turned on her heel, heading for the store entrance.

“Come on,” she said, her voice still brimming with annoyance. “If we have to suffer through this trip, we’re at least going to look fucking stunning for it.”

You chuckled as you followed her inside.

The boutique smelled of expensive perfume and fresh leather, the lighting soft and flattering, making everything inside seem even more indulgent. Mannequins draped in shimmering gowns stood on pedestals, and elegant displays showcased delicate, lacy lingerie sets. The kind designed to be taken off slowly.

Claire hated it. Not because she didn’t appreciate nice clothes- she did. She just never really had the time to think about them. Her wardrobe had always been a careful balancing act. In politics, every outfit was a statement, and if you cared too much, if you looked too put-together, if you wore one thing that could be considered too expensive or too trendy, the press would eat you alive. There was a reason she let her campaign team handle her wardrobe for public appearances. And when she dressed for you- for date nights, for lazy mornings, for stolen moments in hotel rooms on the campaign trail it was either whatever she thought worked with the items provided… or whatever you picked out for her.

She watched as you trailed your fingers along racks of silks and satins, your sharp eye scanning through dresses, your mouth quirking as you lifted a hanger to inspect the dress. You knew what you liked. You owned it. And fuck, you looked good doing it. Her mouth watered as her gaze drifted lower, past the curve of your back, the line of your thighs.

Then you turned toward one of the displays of lingerie- delicate lace bralettes, garter sets, whisper-thin slips designed purely to be sinful. You reached out, picking up a set in a shade of deep red, and turned back to her with a playful smirk.

“What would you like to see me in?” you asked, wrapping your arms around her waist.

Claire exhaled, her hands settling on your hips as she met your gaze. “I think you know the answer to that,” she murmured, voice lower now.

Your smirk widened. “Do I?”

She glanced down at the set in your hand, then back at you, her eyes darkening. “You could wear any of these,” she said, fingers brushing along your lower back, “and I’d just want to tear it off you.”

Your grip on her tightened just slightly, and Claire smirked. “But this one…” Her hand skimmed the lace between your fingers. “This one would look obscene on you.”

You shivered, pressing closer. “Yeah?”

She hummed, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. “Get it.”

You grinned, tugging her into a slow, teasing kiss before slipping away to grab your size. Claire exhaled, running a hand through her hair, her pulse pounding. Yeah. She was completely fucked.

You began looking through the racks of dresses, holding them up against your body to check the fit. Smiling over at her and doing a little twirl. Claire had never been that kind of woman. The kind who enjoyed this. The kind who walked into a place like this and knew exactly what she wanted and didn’t feel fucking ridiculous about it.

She glanced down at the dress in her hands- plain, serviceable, easy. But before she could slip away to pay for it, you turned, catching sight of her choice. You frowned, stopping in your tracks.

"Baby, come on," you said, walking over to her. "You barely even looked at that."

Claire exhaled, rubbing her temple. "This is fine."

You gave her an unimpressed look. "Fine isn’t the point."

She shifted under your gaze, feeling exposed in a way she wasn’t used to. It was so fucking stupid, really. She’d stood her ground against senators and oil lobbyists. She’d stared down reporters who wanted nothing more than to rip her apart. She’d survived Miles fucking Bron. And yet- standing here, under the soft boutique lighting, with you looking at her like that- she felt out of her depth.

You must’ve seen it, must’ve felt her hesitation, because instead of pushing, you softened. You stepped closer, cupping her face in your hands, thumbs grazing her cheekbones.

“Hey,” you murmured, grounding, steady.

She let out a breath. "Hey."

You smiled softly, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. Claire sighed into it, letting her shoulders relax, letting herself breathe.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “Let’s find something you really like, yeah?”

She swallowed.

“We have time.” And something about the way you said it, the patience in it, the warmth, made her chest ache. Claire wasn’t used to someone giving her that kind of time.

She exhaled, nodding. “Okay.”

You grinned, taking her hand, tugging her toward the more extravagant gowns. Claire exhales, nodding, trusting you to guide her through this. And then there it is. A dress that catches your eye immediately. A stunning black sequined gown, structured yet dramatic, with that signature crisp white collar and cuffs. It’s bold, powerful, and effortlessly elegant, just like her.

You pluck it from the rack and hold it up between you. “This,” you murmur, watching her expression carefully. She hesitates, her lips pressing together like she wants to argue, but you see the flicker of something in her eyes. Interest.

“It’s-” she starts, shaking her head, but you don’t let her finish.

“It’s perfect,” you counter. “And you’re trying it on.”

A few minutes later, she steps out of the fitting room, smoothing the fabric over her hips. The way the sequins catch the light, the way the structure of the dress commands attention—it’s everything. You stare, unabashed, taking her in, and when your eyes meet hers, there’s a rare flicker of uncertainty on her face.

“Well?” she asks, a little hesitant.

You walk up to her, slow and deliberate, taking her hand and pulling her in just enough for your lips to ghost over her ear. “Baby,” you murmur, voice low and full of promise, “I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you tonight.”

Claire huffs a soft laugh, but you don’t miss the way her breath catches, the way her fingers tighten around yours. “You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, but you catch the small, satisfied smile she tries to hide as she turns back toward the mirror.

Yeah. This was the one.

Now it was your turn. You step out of the dressing room, the deep red fabric clinging to you in all the right places, shimmering under the boutique’s golden lighting. The delicate floral embroidery catches the light, giving the illusion of cherry blossoms blooming along your curves.

The moment she sees you, Claire freezes. Her mouth parts slightly, eyes darkening as they rake over you from head to toe. You watch her chest rise and fall with a sharp inhale, and before you can even get a word out she’s crossing the room in three quick strides, hands firmly on your waist as she practically shoves you back into the dressing room.

“Claire- ” You barely have time to squeak before your back hits the mirror, her lips already on your neck, hands roaming over the fabric of your dress like she can’t decide where to touch first.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” she murmurs against your skin, voice thick with adoration. “Look at you. Jesus Christ, you’re so-” She cuts herself off with a reverent kiss, pressing her body flush against yours.

Her fingers trace the neckline, dipping teasingly along the fabric. “Gonna lose my mind over you,” she whispers, pressing kisses along your collarbone. “How the hell am I supposed to let you leave wearing this when all I wanna do is keep you right here and kiss you everywhere?”

Heat pools in your stomach, your hands gripping her shoulders as she presses another dizzying kiss to your lips. “Claire,” you mumble between breaths, barely able to think straight, “we’re in a store.”

“Mm,” she hums, completely unbothered. “And?”

You huff a laugh, tilting your head back as her lips trail lower. “And we have places to be.”

She groans dramatically, but when she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her expression is soft and completely smitten. “Fine,” she relents, though her hands linger on your waist. “But, baby?”

“Yeah?”

She leans in, brushing her lips over your ear. “You’re so wearing this for me again later.”

You smirk, stepping closer and turning slightly to show off the gown. “You like?”

Claire swallows hard. “Understatement of the century.”

~

The sun is starting to set, casting a golden glow over the town square, the soft hum of conversation and distant music making everything feel warm and easy. You’re curled up in Claire’s arms on a bench, your ice cream slowly melting as you lazily watch the world go by.

It’s nice, just existing, just being. No glances over your shoulders, no hushed, careful distance. Just two people sharing ice cream, wrapped up in each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You sigh contentedly, shifting against her. “This is nice,” you murmur, licking your ice cream. “Not having to hide. Just being… another couple having ice cream.”

Claire hums, thoughtful. You can feel her hand tighten slightly around your waist. “Yeah,” she says softly, almost to herself. She’s considering something, you can tell. And for a brief second, a part of you wonders if she’s thinking about what it would be like to do this all the time. Out in the open, no secrets, no careful maneuvering. But you don’t push. You won’t. You know better than to hold onto something that might not happen.

So instead, you nudge her. “Lemme try yours.”

Claire turns her head slowly, unimpressed. “I knew you were gonna steal mine.”

You pout dramatically. “You can have some of mine?”

She scoffs. “I don’t want yours. I want mine.”

“Tough shit,” you say, swiping a bit of her ice cream onto your spoon.

She glares at you, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. And before she can protest again, you boop the tip of her nose with the cold ice cream, watching her jerk back with a startled laugh.

“You little-”

You don’t let her finish, leaning in and kissing the laughter right off her lips. She tastes like vanilla and caramel, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as she kisses you slow, deep, like she’s savoring every second.

When you finally pull away, breathless and grinning, Claire shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me,” you tease.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, eyes still crinkled in amusement.

And just like that, the world keeps turning around you. But for now, it’s just the two of you, here, in this tiny corner of the world, stealing ice cream and kisses like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You’re still tucked against Claire, savoring the last of your ice cream when you hear a familiar voice carrying across the square.

“Peg, come on, you’re moving like a sloth in a coma.”

You turn just in time to see Birdie strutting towards you, her signature oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, while Peg- poor, suffering Peg- is trailing behind her, arms overloaded with shopping bags. She’s carrying so much you genuinely think she might topple over at any second.

Claire lets out an amused snort, her chest shaking against your back. “Jesus, Bird. Got enough?”

Birdie waves her off dramatically. “Oh, please.” She gestures to one singular, tiny bag at the very top of the pile. “That one’s for Peg, so it’s not all mine.”

Claire side-eyes her. “Uh-huh. How generous of you.”

“Thank you Claire” she beams.

You shake your head, laughing, before pushing yourself up from the bench. “Here, Peg, let me help before you get buried under.”

Peg gives you a grateful look as you take a few bags off her hands, her arms finally free enough to stretch. “You’re a lifesaver,” she mutters.

Before you can respond, Lionel appears at your side, taking a few more bags without a word. You exchange a quick glance, sharing an unspoken understanding of what it’s like to be pulled into Birdie’s orbit.

Birdie, meanwhile, is entirely unbothered, already fussing with the strap of her bag. “Okay, now that that’s settled, who wants to go for drinks? I’m exhausted.”

Claire chuckles, sliding an arm around your waist as she stands. “Lead the way.” And with that, you fall into step with Claire’s little makeshift family, the easy warmth of the moment wrapping around you like the summer air.

The bar was dimly lit, the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses filling the space as you sat with Claire, Lionel, and Birdie. But after the first twenty minutes, you quickly realized you weren’t really in the conversation- just there. Lionel and Claire were deep in some debate, while Birdie was rambling about a designer she’d just met, not really listening to either of them. You had tried to chime in a few times, but it was like trying to jump into a double-dutch rope that never slowed down. Eventually, you just gave up, sipping your drink and zoning out. That’s when Duke and Whisky walked in.

The moment you spotted Whisky, relief flooded through you. You weren’t sure if she felt the same until her eyes landed on you, and her whole face lit up. She wasted no time making a beeline toward you.

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered as she reached you before nodding toward the bar. “Come with me?”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. “Absolutely.”

As the two of you slid up to the bar, you turned to her. “You and Duke have been together for a while right? How many of these things have you been to?”

She sighed, waving a hand at the bartender before giving you a knowing look. “Three.”

Your eyes widened. “Three?”

She laughed at your reaction, shaking her head. “Yeah. And trust me, they’re all like this.”

You groaned, letting your head drop against the bar as you pictured going through another 3 of these trips. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Whisky said dryly, taking a sip of her drink. “When they’re together, they’re kind of the worst.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Tell me about it.”

Whisky tilted her head, watching you for a moment before saying, “You know, I never did ask. Why’re you with Claire?”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on,” Whisky said, grinning now. “You asked me about Duke, so I think it’s only fair that I ask you about Claire.”

You huffed a small laugh, swirling the ice in your glass. “What, you think she’s that bad?”

Whisky gave you a look. “Yes?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s the worst one of them- at least to me. I mean, Duke’s friends always see me as just some hot girl with no brain, but Claire?” She let out a dry laugh. “Claire hates me.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “She’s… not your biggest fan, yeah.”

Whisky scoffed. “No kidding.” She took another sip of her drink. “She acts like I personally ran over her dog or something. Like, I was actually excited to meet her for the first time. I mean, she’s Claire Debella, right? She’s a powerful woman in politics. That’s kinda inspiring.”

You frowned, surprised. “You were excited to meet her?”

Whisky nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I eventually want to get into politics myself- not at Claire’s level, obviously, but still. I wanted to talk to her about it, maybe even get some advice.” She rolled her eyes. “But it took, like, two seconds to realize that was never gonna happen. She made it very clear that we wouldn’t be friends anytime soon.”

You exhaled, guilt tugging at your chest. “I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it.

Whisky shrugged, then leaned forward on the bar. “So, back to my question- why Claire?”

You paused, thinking. “I know she can seem like the classic stressed-out politician, all hard-faced bitch sometimes. But that’s just…” You hesitated, then shook your head. “That’s just how she has to be for her job.”

Whisky raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

You smiled softly to yourself. “But she loves me.”

Whisky didn’t say anything, just watched you as you went on.

“You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you thought about all the little things she did that made you fall in love with her, over and over again.

“She loves me,” you said again, but softer this time. More to yourself than to Whisky. Then, after a beat, you looked up, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

“She takes me on bookshop dates,” you began, your voice laced with fondness. “She never rushes me, even though I know she gets impatient. I can spend hours just wandering between shelves, reading the backs of books I won’t even buy, and she doesn’t complain. She just follows me around, letting me talk at her about why I love certain authors or why this particular edition of a book is superior. And she listens… like, really listens. She even started keeping a list of books I mention offhand, so she can surprise me with them later.”

Whisky’s expression softened a fraction, but she stayed quiet, letting you continue.

“She washes my hair for me in the shower,” you said, smiling a little at the thought. “Not just, like, quickly scrubbing and rinsing. She takes her time. She massages my scalp, runs her fingers through my hair so gently it makes me melt right there against her. And she does it every single time, like it’s just our thing. Like she wants to take care of me.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “She tells me she loves me every night before bed, no matter where she is. Even if she’s on the other side of the country, campaigning or working some insane hours, she always finds time to call me. And if I fall asleep before she can? I wake up to a voice note.” Your heart squeezed at the thought. “It’s never just good night, love you, either. It’s detailed. Like I saw something today that reminded me of you or I wish you were here because you would’ve loved this weird café I found. She makes time for me. Even when she’s exhausted.”

You paused, swallowing down the emotion creeping up your throat.

“She gives me confidence in my writing,” you went on, voice a little steadier. “When my publishers are being assholes, when I start doubting myself, she never lets me sink too far into it. She sits me down, makes me talk about what I’m writing, reminds me why I love it. She tells me I’m brilliant. That my words matter.” You smiled wryly. “And trust me, when Claire tells you you’re brilliant, you believe it.”

Whisky gave a small huff of amusement at that, but her eyes were still focused, still listening.

“Yes she’s older than me,” you said, a small, private smile tugging at your lips, “but she’s never made me feel small. She talks to me like an equal. Like what I have to say matters.” You let out a slow breath, shaking your head slightly. “She’s so smart, but she never makes me feel stupid. She’s opinionated, but she never makes me feel like mine don’t count. She challenges me, but she listens to me. She doesn’t just love me- she respects me.”

Whisky’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated.

You inhaled, looking down at your hands for a second before you met her gaze again. “She left her husband for me,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “That’s not something I take lightly. I know it’s messy, and it’s not something she’s proud of, but… she chose me. And she’s never once made me feel like I wasn’t worth that choice.”

You met Whisky’s gaze, feeling the weight of your own words settle in your chest.

“She’s a good partner,” you finished, voice thick with conviction. “A really good one.”

Whisky studied you for a moment, then nodded slightly, like she understood.

Then, after a beat, she tilted her head. “So why does she hide your relationship?”

The warmth in your chest chilled instantly. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t answer. Because that… that was the one question you tried not to ask yourself too often. Because it hurt.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your drink, the condensation slick against your skin. You don't answer right away, because the truth of it is so heavy, so dense in your chest that it feels like it'll crush your ribs if you let it out too fast. Instead, you focus on the ice swirling in the glass, your stomach twisting as you try to find the right words.

"Because she can’t right now," you finally say, your voice quieter than before, as if saying it out loud might somehow make it worse. "She’s planning to run for Senate. You know what people are like. If they found out about us, the homophobic assholes wouldn’t vote for her. It’s why she’s still using Devon’s last name. If people think she’s still that picture-perfect congresswoman with a husband and a kid, they’ll back her. She needs that support to even have a shot."

Whisky leans against the bar, looking at you with something softer than before- less curiosity, more pity. Her fingers trace circles against the rim of her glass.

"So..." she hesitates, watching the way your jaw tenses, the way your gaze stays locked on the drink in your hand. Then, quieter, almost like she doesn’t want to say it: "She’ll never come out then?"

And just like that, it feels like something inside you caves in.

Your throat goes tight, that burning feeling rising up, and for a second, you can’t breathe.

Because you don’t know.

Because maybe that’s the part that keeps you awake at night, staring at the ceiling of an apartment you don’t even live in, wondering if she’ll ever really choose you, really claim you. Not just in private, in whispered I-love-yous before bed, in the way she pulls you into her arms when no one else is looking- but in public, where it actually matters.

You swallow hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you admit, barely above a whisper. "I really don’t."

And that’s the worst part.

Because you love Claire with everything you have. And you know she loves you. But love isn’t always enough. And what if this- this thing between you, no matter how deep, how real- never leaves the shadows?

What if you’re always the secret? The thought makes your chest ache, like something sharp twisting inside of you.

Whisky doesn’t say anything right away. She just watches you, her expression unreadable, before finally sighing and looking away. "That’s rough," she says eventually, her voice softer than you expected. "You deserve better than that."

And maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s completely right. But it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want better. You want Claire.

[joecoolburrow]

Something Funnier Than 24

Summary: Reader and Joe fall in love over a lunch date and Spongebob references

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Oneshot! Words: 1076

a/n: I don't have a masterlist because this is my first time writing for Joe! Please let me know if you enjoy it and want more. <3

It was going well. Your first two dates with Joe were romantic and you felt yourself falling. But, it was still so new you found yourself unable to relax around him, and you could tell Joe felt the same. So you felt like a bundle of nerves when Joe knocked on your door this afternoon.

It's just a casual matinee and lunch you told yourself to calm down.

"Hey." You greeted him with a shy smile.

Joe smiled brightly. Even in a t-shirt and jean he looked like a dream.

"Hey, you look great." He said as he admired you in your sundress. "Ready to go?"

"Hell yeah."

Joe laughed. Your eagerness was earnest but maybe not the most tactful. You felt a twinge of embarrassment, hoping Joe wasn't put off. He took your hand as you walked to the car.

Riding in a Porsche still felt foreign to you, but you tried not to let it show.

An awkward silence fell as the two of you drove off. Internally cursing your social skills (or lack-thereof), you hoped the movie and lunch would bring you closer together. You'd chosen some generic comedy that probably wouldn't be that good, but would likely give you a few laughs.

"Do you like Will Ferrell movies?" You asked.

"He's ok." Joe shrugged and didn't take his eyes off the rode. "My family watches Elf every Christmas."

"Mine too! It's a classic."

Joe smiled.

"I think comedy and action are my favorite movie genres. What about you?"

"Uh," Joe twisted his lips. "I like everything except horror movies."

"Really?" You said with surprise. "I love scary movies!"

"Not my thing."

Another awkward silence. Shit, you thought to yourself. Joe was such an amazing guy. You felt the spark. You dreamed of what loving him would be like. But moments like this made you worry you weren't compatible.

Joe reached for the radio and turned the volume up. "I love this song. Do you know it?"

You really wished you could say yes. But you had no idea what song was playing or who the artist was, so you shook your head.

The rest of the ride you and Joe made small talk. The movie was fine, nothing special, but you loved seeing Joe laugh. There were a few times you'd both burst out laughing and turn to look at each other. It felt like fireworks.

After the movie, you went to a local diner. It had an old school vibe. Joe helped you into the red booth in the back and picked up a menu.

"This is the perfect place for a cheeseburger." You said.

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "I started craving one when we were still in the parking lot."

"They have 30 different milkshakes to choose from." Joe said

"Mmm, I'm gonna have a hard time deciding." You said, even though you knew you'd probably go for strawberry like usual.

"Pick a good one, I'll split it with you."

Why did that suddenly feel like a lot of pressure? You carefully studied the list and weighed your options.

A waiter in a paper hat came up to your table and smiled, "What can I get the cute couple?"

Joe looked at you.

"Umm, could we please get the strawberry banana milkshake? Two straw please." You told the waiter. "And two cheeseburgers."

He winked. "A number 24, coming right up."

As the waiter walked away you smiled to yourself. 24. Joe looked at you curiously.

"24." You said, unsure if he would get it. "I thought of something funnier than 24...

"25!!!" Joe and you said at the same time. You erupted in laughter with him.

"I always think of that whenever I hear the numbers 24 or 25." You told him as you regained your composure. "I was hoping you would get that. A lot of people think I'm insane when I say it."

"I think of Spongebob quotes all the time." Joe said enthusiastically.

He moved his hands in a rainbow motion, "Imagination!"

You couldn't hold back your giggles.

You picked up one of the mayo packets on the table and quoted, "Is mayonnaise an instrument?"

Joe's whole face turned red from laughing. When he caught he breath, he said, "What about: The pioneers used to ride these babies for miles!"

"The Krusty Krab pizza is the pizza for you and me-he" You sang.

Your eyes met Joe's and something just clicked. There it was. The ease, the comfort, the friendship. You felt like you could be your true, quirky self with him and he would embrace it.

"I've never dated anyone who liked Spongebob as much as me." Joe admitted.

"Me either."

The milkshake came and you felt giddy as you and Joe both plopped your straws in. You leaned in for a sip, but Joe held up a finger signaling to wait. He suddenly grabbed his phone. You were a little confused, but a moment later, your phone dinged.

It was a text from Joe: "Is this the Krusty Krab?"

You tried to keep a straight face as you replied, "No, this is Patrick." but the laughter got the best of you.

You spent the rest of lunch talking about all your favorite Spongebob episodes, which lead to talking about your childhoods, which lead to talking about your favorite memories, which lead to more laughter. You felt like you knew Joe so much better than you had just a few hours ago.

On the ride home, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. You felt comfortable and at peace. When Joe pulled in to your driveway, he looked at you with a pout.

"This may be lame, but that was the most fun I've had on a date in....." Joe trailed off. "in forever."

"Me too."

He stroked your shoulder. You both leaned in for a kiss as if magnetized. His lips were so soft and sweet.

When you looked into each other's eyes again, you saw Joe's adoring eyes and wished the moment would last forever.

"Are you busy the rest of the day? Because I'd really like it if you wnated to come in." You asked, internally begging the gods of fate he would say yes, but unsure if he had other plans today.

"I can. But-" Joe smirked mischieviously. "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else."

You kissed him again. He responded enthusiastically, but you broke it off to whisper in his ear.

"Not until four."

[sophies-junkyard]

While he’s still trending, this is your sign to explore Kendrick’s discography. He’s so much bigger than this beef with Drake (and the “beef” is so much bigger than “he hates Drake!” but I’m hoping we all know that by now). Here’s some ideas on where to start:

The GNX album has incredible range . From hype tracks like “Tv off” to the introspection of “reincarnated”. It’s a 10/10 (literally). If you only have the energy for one album, this is a solid pick. It’s a good way to sample what he’s about and see where he’s heading.

After that… I mean for me it’s gotta be Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers. How do I even explain this? People who were surprised by “Meet The Grahams” had CLEARLY never heard “Mother I Sober”. This album will leave you staring at the void in stunned silence. It’ll make you feel empty inside but like… in an addicting way. It’s a masterpiece. If you’re intimidated by the number of songs, I would AT LEAST hear “United in Grief” and “mother I sober”. (Drake directly referenced “mother I sober” in his track “family matters”. He aimed low while ALSO misinterpreting the story like a fucking clown. Embarrassing af lol.)

2015-To Pimp a Butterfly. Depending on who you ask, this is Kendrick’s best work, and uh… yeah it’s hard to disagree. This is Kendrick in his element. A brutally honest examination of racism and violence wrapped in some of his most aggressive vocals to date (and I mean he LITERALLY uses so much growl on these tracks). But the MUSIC is…. chill? It’s also varied as hell. It’s an evening of slam poetry backed by smooth jazz. Then he’ll hit you with a slick guitar riff and some panicked breathing into the mic. The album is crucial to understanding Kendrick as an artist. Picking standouts on this one feels stupid (and everybody has a different opinion) but “Alright” and “King Kunta” are classics. “I”, “How much a dollar cost”, “you ain’t gotta lie”, “the blacker the berry”…. I’m just gonna end up listing every song. I’m also a fan of the“for free-interlude” lol. Oh and “Mortal Man”. I honestly don’t think there are any skippable tracks on this one. Just let it flow.

His 2017 album DAMN was a major success, and was how I got into Kendrick. If high school parking lots came with an OST, “HUMBLE” would’ve been our Green Hill Zone. Idk if that made any sense. Point is, it was popular as fuck. “DNA” was another huge hit. The album sounds edgy and hyped, but the lyrics are an invitation for the audience to like… choose his fate. It’s all about judgement day. Growth, reconciliation, criticism of fame. It’s a shame that it got reduced to “omg humble is a banger!!”. The fact that Uncle Sam shouted at Kendrick to “TIGHTEN UP!” And he performed HUMBLE in response... Damn.

2011- good kid, m.A.A.d city. “Money trees” is a classic with a super chill beat. And the metaphor of “planting money trees” has become a huge part of his identity. Representing his literal desire to share the wealth with his community, and his desire to stay true to his roots. It was ALSO something Drake dissed him for “failing” to do (though his record of philanthropy says otherwise). The titular songs “good kid” and “m.A.A.d city” are iconic. “Swimming Pools” is often cited as his first big hit. Side note: The album cover featured a van (I think it was a Chrysler?) that became a symbol of Kendrick’s career. and Drake fucking destroyed it in one of his music videos. Bitch.

There’s so much. He also has a series of 6 songs called “the heart” that usually drop before a new album. He has a ton of other albums that I didn’t even mention because this post is way too long. I know I skipped a lot of bangers so please let me know about them. Also this post 100% assumes everyone has heard “6:16 in LA”, “Euphoria”, “meet the grahams” and “not like us” because… I mean come on. Ok that’s all. happy listening!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: in the land of delulu.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You excuse yourself for a hot bath. You didn't have the luxury in your apartment. You may as well enjoy what you can as the seconds tick down until your eternal purgatory. 

You breathe in the steam and let it soothe you. As much as it can. You don't think you've truly relaxed since the smoke filled your apartment. Oh, yeah, that's right, this man pulled out army tactics just to get you here. Just when you convince yourself he's not that loony, you remember another twisted facet of this whole ordeal. 

No matter how many times you retrace your steps, how many memories you unravel and search, you can't figure out where he came from, or how you managed to catch his attention. You are unremarkable but he talks like you're some sort of goddess. Not too mention, he seems to believe he knows you somehow. That you are soulmates in some ridiculously serendipitous way. There's nothing meant to be about this. You never meant to be with anyone. 

The water turns lukewarm and you stir. You might as well get out. You're not going to get much out of it aside from the pruned skin. You dry off and wrap yourself in one of the fluffy robes hung in wait. You stop to stare at yourself in the mirror. 

What else can you do to change his mind? You ate like an animal, you vomited like an overfed cat, and you've done everything to make yourself unapproachable to the general public, not just him. It's like this is a game to him but you're not having fun. 

You come out into the hotel room. The smell of lavender and aloe gives you pause. The lights are dimmed. Oh jeez. You cross your arms as the soft Hawaiian sunset glows through the large glass doors. Flickering candlelight pulses all around you and rose petals decorate the floor and bed. 

"Please, I just want to sleep--" 

"Jellybean, good boy Lloyd is gonna help you do just that," he purrs as he appears. "I'm gonna give you a nice massage. I know you don't like strangers touching you and all that so I'm going to do it all on my own--" 

"What? No. No. I'm going to sleep..." you trail off as you see what he's wearing. Next to nothing. Just a tight red thong that barely contains his very obvious excitement. 

"Take off your robe, bean, and let the magic hands do their work," he reaches for you and you dodge him. 

"Lloyd, it's... we're not even married. Shouldn't you wait until tomorrow night-" 

"Tomorrow? The wedding night? Beanie boo, I don't think you realise everything I'm saving for that. The way I'm gonna pamper you," he spreads his hands flat in the air and nuzzles the air lewdly then flicks his tongue slowly up and down. 

"God," you whisper and clutch tight the front of your robe. "I said... you said we'd wait--" 

"It's all above board. I can have a feel of the goods but I'm not gonna untie the ribbon. Promise," he puts his hand to his chest. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, I can take these off-" 

He hooks his thumbs in the sides of the thong and you shake your head furiously, "no, no, don't-- don't do that." 

"I'm not shy, baby." He winks. 

"Lloyd, please. I'm tired. I... I've never flown before--" 

"Will you keep saying my name, bean? You make it sound so nice." 

You blink and hold back your revolt. You keep telling yourself you just need to get through this one thing but why? You're not getting out of this. He's taken you out of your apartment, out of the city, out of state. You're pretty sure there's nowhere left to run and he's shown you what happens if you try to hide. 

"Come on, I'll be gentle. I just want you to feel good. Get nice and loose for the wedding," he steps closer and grabs the belt of your robe. "My little jelly bean--" He pauses and blinks down at you. "Am I talking to much again? Let my hands do the talking, huh?" 

He winks and licks his lips. You want to melt and not in a good way. He tugs loose your belt and you barely keep the robe from falling open completely. He purrs and grabs your hands. You wrestle with him, defeated as he wrenches apart the fabric. 

"Damn, bean, I mean... it just gets sweeter every time I see it," he wiggles excitedly. 

You put your hands on his but he’s much too strong to deter. His eyes flick up from your body and he grins. He licks his lips. 

“I already know you’re just as delicious as you look,” he snarls. “Come on, bean.” He walks you backwards until you’re by the bed. “You get yourself nice and naked and spread eagle.” 

He pushes you, just hard enough that you fall onto the mattress. Your chest jiggles as you land and he purrs again. You plant the heels of your hands on the bed and drag yourself up. He goes to the night stand and grabs the shiny bottle of massage oil. 

You don’t have much of a choice but the easiest one is to go along with this. He says it’s just a massage. You know better than to trust the man who stalked you, who terrified you, then stole you away, but you don’t have much defense against him. Nothing but your submission. 

You slip free of the robe then turn onto your stomach. He tugs away the cotton and lets it heap on the floor. He climbs up on the bed, jostling you as he crosses the mattress on his knees. He oils up his palms and you quickly turn you face down into the pillows. 

He straddles your ass and you tense. He grabs your shoulders and rolls the muscles between his thumb and fingers. He tuts, “baby, you need to chill out. Let your good boy help you out.” 

He pushes his thumbs into your flesh and angles his hands to drag his knuckles down your back. The ridges of his hands drag along either side of your spine and he traces with his thumbs pressed firmly into the muscle. You can’t resist the moan that rises between your lips and catches in the pillow case. 

He pushes back up and once more kneads your shoulders. You quiver and squeeze your eyes shut. It’s overwhelming to be touched. At all. More unnerving that you don’t hate it. 

You avoid people, just as much, you avoid any contact. You like your space, your quiet, and this man has violated both. He runs his touch down your sides and the warmth of him seeps into you. He takes your left arm and begins tedious and tender work of the entire length. Your fingers curl and your hand twitches. 

You groan and he wiggles against you. His crotch is pressed into you without shame. You hardly notice as you fight the rising tide of delight flowing through you. No, why does it feel good? 

He gets to your other arm as the tension slowly uncoils. You never realised how much there was and he’s finding every nook and cranny. He works his way over your back once more. You quiver and moan long and loud. 

“That’s it, jelly bean,” he growls and once more grinds against your ass. “Like putty in my hands. 

He moves down your legs and pushes a knee between them. He parts your thighs and knees on the bed. He brushes his thumbs along the curve of your ass and hums. He bends and you clench your cheeks. He clucks, “now, now, be a good girl. I said I’d behave, bean.” 

He rubs your ass in his large hands. He leans in and kisses each cheek. You squirm but he doesn’t let up. He flutters his fingers along the insides of your thighs. You shiver and he puts more pressure into it. He teases and tends to you. 

You bring your arm up to grip the billow and arch your back. He flicks his finger along your cunt and you pop your head up. He snickers. 

“I said relax. I can’t have my wife tied in knots... I’m supposed to tie her in knots,” he taunts. 

He brings himself to straddle you again. He shifts over you and pushes your thighs closed with his. He grips your hips and massages them tightly. He pulls a hand back as he moves behind you. 

He rests his dick between your cheeks as he pins you down by your waist. You spasm but can’t push yourself up. He has you trapped as he slowly thrusts up and down, gliding along your flesh. 

“Lloyd, you said--” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t go inside,” he grits as he keeps his careful tempo. “Mmm, baby, how can you expect me to resist this ass. Urgh, it’s so nice.” 

He brings his hand down to push your cheeks together as he fucks between them. Mortified, you squeak and hide your face. You reach back with one hand and push on his forearm. There’s no stopping him and this is just a preview of the next night. 

Your hand falls away at the thought. You can’t stop him. You won’t. No matter how you fight. You tried that and he won. The moment he got you out of your apartment, it was over. 

The bed rocks with him. He builds his speed, little by little. His deep voice fills the hotel room as he kneads your ass. He pumps between them and snarls. He squeezes until your eyes water. 

You twist your neck and swat at him, “Lloyd, you’re hurting---” 

He lets go of once side of your rear and shoves your head down. He ruts wildly as he crushes your skull into the pillow and bounces you on the mattress. A sudden warmth spills into the small of your back and spurts further up your spine. He hisses and quakes, losing his rhythm as he leans his weight onto you. 

You grasp his wrist and whine, “ow, Lloyd--” 

He retracts from you and flips to fall beside you. You keep your face down, your eyes stinging with tears. You’re scared. You can’t remember the last time you weren’t, but that’s all the proof you need. Lloyd can say all these sweet things, make all his promises, but you know in the end, you can’t control him. He can barely control himself. 

“Jellybean,” he tickles your hip as his cum cools on your skin. “You’re so amazing--” 

You shimmy away from him without looking back. You can’t lay there any longer. You nearly fall off the bed. You stagger away from the bed. You need to get away from him and more, you need to get that stuff off of you. 

You burst into the bathroom and crank on the sink. You grab a washcloth and wet it. You wipe away the stickiness along your hips but you can’t reach higher.  

Lloyd’s shadow appears in the door frame. You ignore him as you rinse the cloth and try again. He comes to you and takes a clean one. “Let me help--” 

“No, I’m fine,” you snip. 

“Jellybean, I know it’s been a long day--” 

“You know? You don’t know,” you sneer and tear away from him. 

“Baby--” 

“I bathed and you—you--” 

“I made a mess,” he giggles. 

You face him and shake your head. What is wrong with him? This isn’t funny. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” he runs his hand down his naked torso. “It’s just what you do to me. I’m...” he stops and looks down as his dick twitches. “I’m getting hard again just think of it. Au naturel, baby. No enhancers needed.” He growls and drags the washcloth around his shaft. “Little blue pill got nothing on you.” 

He wipes himself then wads up the wet cloth and hurls it in the sink. “Alright, then. Longing makes the heart, and the balls, grow fonder, huh?” He offers his hand and smirks, “let’s go to bed.” 

You stare at him. Unmoving. He shows his palms. 

“Sleeping only. Well, maybe a few snuggles,” he says. “But I promise, I’ll abstain. Just for a little longer.” 

[ginnyw-potter]

Ginny Weasley should die.

Thank you for the prompt anon! 😊 I hope you like it.

Death's cup

"Ginny Weasley should die."

Harry looked up from his newspaper and thought about his wife upstairs. 50 years old. Not quite in her quidditch years anymore but not old enough to die of natural causes, or so Harry would think. He did not want to let her go.

He looked at death. He seemed familiar. "Ah. Interesting that you tell me this. I thought you wielded your scythe on your own time, sir."

He stood up from the table and Death was yet still taller than him by almost more than a head.

Death moved uneasily. His face was hardly visible under his hood. "I do, but you... are the Master of Death and I will not take your wife away unannounced."

"I don't have the Elder Wand. The Stone is lost to time. The cloak belongs to James."

Death nodded. "You do not lose the title until someone else brings the items together. James is a special one. He hides from Death just as well as his father. There were some close calls under that cloak."

Though the thought of his son dying prickled as much as thinking about Ginny dying did, he only nodded. "He has no clue what it used to be like."

"He grew up safe thanks to the efforts of the generation before him," Death said. "I need to go and start on my day. I will be back in a few moments."

And just like that, Death walked out of his back door and soared straight up into the sky.

Harry had not even moved from his spot when James appeared by the same back door and knocked before entering.

"Morning dad, here's the cloak like you asked." His son put the cloak down on the table. "Mum still asleep?"

He nodded, dumbfounded but didn't reveal that he had never asked for the cloak. "Sleeping in."

"Alright. I'll see you two for dinner, yeah?"

Harry nodded again, trying not to think of the horrible possibility of Ginny not making it to dinner. "Of course," he said around the lump in his throat.

His son walked to the door again but Harry stopped him. James turned around to look at him.

"With or without that cloak, you're not invincible. Don't forget that," Harry said.

James offered him a lop-sided smile. "Is this another lesson from you where you take the cloak away from me to prove something?"

"No. Just a reminder."

"Because I am getting married soon and then I want to give you some of those grandkid-things mum dreams about." James hugged him.

Harry hugged him back. "Don't tell her that or she'll bug you about it until you bring her one."

"Merlin," his son let out with a chuckle. "I know it. I thought Al was going to beat me to it, to be fair." James released him and stepped back.

"He might still," Harry mused out loud.

James nodded in agreement. "Alright, see you tonight, dad!"

Harry waved absent-mindedly, his fingers of his other hand already wrapping around the cloak.

As soon as James had disapparated, he walked upstairs and into the master bed room. Ginny was sleeping soundly.

He tried not to think too hard about losing her but his arms shook as he draped the cloak over her. She did not stir.

"I love you, Gin," he said just in case and then he walked back downstairs.

He had just poured himself another cup of coffee when Death descended the stairs and walked back into the kitchen.

"The oddest thing just happened," Death said with an air of innocence, holding a list. "It says Ginny Weasley, bedroom, but I could not find her."

"That is odd," he agreed, the knot around his heart loosening a little. "Coffee?"

"Oh. Yes, thank you."

Harry poured Death a cup and handed it to him.

The skeletal hand wrapped around the ear of the cup. Both of them leaned against the counter as Death took a sip. A bit of steam escaped from the ear holes in his hood as he drank.

He seemed to leisurely read the list to see what was ahead for the day.

"Sir Barkington?" Harry inquired as he couldn't help but glance at the list.

"Yes," Death said. "Elderly dog. One of my favourites. It's such a joy to see them escape their old body with their achey joints and bad eyesight and see them chase around like a young puppy once more. It gets me every time."

Harry smiled. "That does sound rather nice." He looked at the name still at the top of his list. "Isn't it rather odd that my wife should be listed as 'Ginny Weasley' when she's been a Potter for thirty years?"

The cup of coffee hesitated in front of Death's mouth as his eyes slipped down. "That is odd."

"So?" Harry asked.

Death grumbled. "I wonder if the stupid fragmented souls messed with my list. Can't move on, can't go back. Trying to defy nature and now I have to pass those sorry excuses for a soul every morning on my commute!"

Harry's eyebrows rose. "If one was previously occupying a diary, it would know my wife's name rather well."

"Ah." Death's gaze fell on the list again. "That may very well be it. I'll need to investigate." He set the cup of coffee down on the counter and a quil appeared in his hand. He crossed Ginny's name off the list. "One way or another, consider her off the hook. I'll talk to her in another century or so." He rolled up the list and tucked it in the pocket of his cloak. "I'll see you soon."

Harry swallowed.

"Just kidding!" Death said, opening the door and stepping outside. "That never gets old! But you will. Live a long life, Harry. I will meet you again when it's time." He waved and then soared off once more.

Harry walked up the door and closed it. He returned to his coffee and took another sip.

"Why was the cloak on me?" She held it in her hands. She looked so very alive with tousled long hair and her night dress wrapped around her form.

"If I told you Death was looking for you, would you believe me?"

She snorted a laugh and picked up the cup of coffee from the counter. "No." She took a sip and promptly spat it out. "That tastes like death!"

"Told you he was here," Harry mumbled under his breath. "I'll get you a new one."

She playfully pushed him out of the way with her hip. "I'll make myself one. You clearly can't be trusted around the coffee machine anymore."

He laughed and took hold of her, kissing her eagerly.

"On second thought..." she said as she slipped her hand down his back. "Why don't you come back upstairs with me..."

"The counter is right there..." Harry offered.

She laughed. "I am not twenty anymore."

"No, you're not," he said happily, his hand caressing the curve of her hip. "But you get better every year."

"My joints don't," she said against his lips.

He pulled her up against him. "Oh, alright. And I'll make you a proper cup in a bit."

She dragged him upstairs, Death's cup forgotten.

[acphengene]

Sweets

₊ ⁺ pairing: Jungwon x afab!reader

₊ ⁺ genre: soulmate au, pining, tiny bit of angst and as always sappy shit

₊ ⁺ word count: 3.3k

₊ ⁺ the second story for this little au i decided to throw together. thank you all so much for supporting, and once again let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list

₊ ⁺ Jake ₊ ⁺ Jungwon ₊ ⁺ Jay ₊ ⁺ Sunoo ₊ ⁺ Heeseung ₊ ⁺ Niki ₊ ⁺ Sunghoon ₊ ⁺

When Jungwon got his mark it had taken him a while to figure out what it was. In the beginning he thought he was just having very vivid cravings for sweets or some very specific lasagna he had never had. But after his mother had dragged him to the doctor the secret was finally revealed, his mark was taste.

It could’ve been a lot worse, he knew that. And if he was being honest he found it fun most of the time, the only downside was that you ate breakfast when he ate dinner and the two things rarely suited each other very well.

He had a theory that you deliberately ate the sweetest things in the mornings for that exact reason, but it was a hard one to prove when the two of you hadn’t met yet. But as time passed he learned to eat early or late, all depending on whether or not he would want dessert before or after his dinner.

When he was on I-land the food was whatever young boys wanted to make after a long day. Sure Jay did his best but in the end, they were young and instant ramen seemed like the easy way to go.

It had ended up getting so bad you started eating salads for the first time in your life, no doubt an indicator that he seriously needed to take care of himself and his health. He had laughed at that but tried to listen.

When he debuted he knew he had a platform bigger than most, so he did his best to make sure he was eating whenever he was on camera. It could be small things and snacks, maybe even full on meals, because maybe you were a fan watching along? He hoped you were.

And then he went viral… for something as basic as strawberries with chocolate.

“Dude it’s everywhere…” Sunoo said as he checked weverse in the middle of dance practice. He hid his head in his hands.

“I know” he groaned. “God it’s so stupid, of everything I could be eating it had to be the most generic thing ever”

Jake laughed. “It could be worse, it could’ve been bread with butter or plain rice”

“Any response yet? Like did she maybe eat it too? You know, as some kind of bat-signal?” Heeseung asked as he threw a soul-bandaid on his knee, it was hurting yet again.

He just shook his head. No, there was nothing. You liked sweets, he knew that much, but you currently had an obsession with some kind of pastry he himself had never tried and unfortunately not chocolate covered strawberries.

But he now knew what he had to do to go viral, so he milked the meme for absolutely everything it had. Unfortunately you seemed to be annoyed at all the chocolate covered things he ate, and got the habit of eating a slice of lemon shortly after.

He hated it, mostly because it was a disgusting combination but also because it led to a lot of wierd facial expressions, all who became memes for engene to utilize.

He threw himself in bed and yelled into the pillows. “You okay?” Sunghoon said as he had overheard the commotion.

“Yeah it’s just getting annoying,” Jungwon said. “It’s been years and I’m no way near finding her”

“Don’t worry too much, she’ll come running with years worth of memes when the times right” the older man laughed as his leader.

“I’m sorry Hoon” he said silently, as he picked at a thread in one of his pillows that had come loose.

Sunghoon just shrugged: “don’t be, I’m used to it. Now come down for dinner before Jay comes up here and rip both of our heads off”

He knew that Sunghoon was right, and he knew he should be great full for you being out there communicating one way or another.

So how did he show you where in the world he was? He started eating nothing but Korean, he mixed and matched and had fun with the food. Sometimes waiting for retaliation if you didn’t like whatever he ordered, but it never really came.

One night while on a set you however finally ate something as simple as kimchi fried rice but it made him ekstatic.

“I think she figured it out” he said to the only couple of the group, as Jake cuddled close to his soulmate.

“You sure?” He asked and the two perked up.

Jungwon nodded. “She’s eating kimchi fried rice” and I think she might’ve made it herself, you know with a package of kimchi”

“That’s a good sign isn’t it?” Niki said as he reached out for his string and gave it a tug. His own way of showing he thought of his other half.

“Yeah I think so” he nodded excitedly.

You had indeed figured it out, as you had grown up you decided to stop fooling around when it came to your mark, even though you sometimes couldn’t help it. But when the Korean food became the only thing he ate, you had to think that maybe, just maybe he for once was try to tell you something other than the fact that he liked chocolate.

So you researched recipes, sure you worked with sweets and baked goods but you did have experience with the more savory side of the culinary kitchen. And Korean seemed to fit so you tested that out, all the while you researched the culture, the language and of course the sweets.

It didn’t take long for you to book a ticket to Seoul, desperate to try some of the delicious meals your other half kept eating. Some of your friends tried to convince you to just stay back home and test the recipes there, but they just never hit the spot.

As you touched down the only thing you knew all you needed was some type of comfort food, so you went searching.

The days you spent in Seoul made Jungwon extracting and almost unable to concentrate, he knew you were close, he could feel it, taste it.

Whenever he had the chance he went searching for you in the restaurants and cafes. On that specific day you were a little sad, he was harder to find than you had expected, and when you were sad you craved sweets.

In a little stand not far from your hotel you found a lady who sold tanghulu, and the treat looked delicious. And while your ordered it a group of younger girls came and asked for the one thing you had done your best to avoid; “strawberries with chocolate”

You saw how the lady herself rolled her eyes, and when you asked about it they all tried explaining it was a trend for fans, all because this one leader kept eating chocolate on absolutely everything,

As they spoke you felt something pull on your heartstrings and for some reason you decided to search it up. It could after all just be a coincidence… right?

There was no doubt in your mind, it had to be him. But then again you couldn’t help but feel delusional, just because both your soulmate and Jungwon, leader of Enhypen, both liked the same type of foods didn’t mean they were the same person.

You would have to test it out, and god you already felt with both his and your tastebuds.

Another live, another slice of lemon, but this time it had a hint of chili as well. You had been out of control lately and he hated it, where you had previously been somewhat predictable you had now just completely lost your head.

“I’m getting sick and tired of you spitting out my food” Jay said with judging look one evening.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” He just answered with hopeless eyes.

“Have you thought about making a diary? You know for all the wierd things they’re doing?” Sunoo asked.

If he was honest he had considered it, it just seemed silly to do so. He sighed. “I got nothing else to loose I guess”

Unlike Jungwon you had that thought as soon as you suspected him of being yours. And every day, close to whenever you suspected his last meal to have been you made a list of everything he had eaten, and everything you had too.

You knew it would be frustrating with the insane amount of lemons you just kept eating, but what was a girl to do?

One day you got a notification from Weverse, “I hate lemons” was all he wrote and you smiled harder than you ever had and then you plopped the infamous strawberry into your mouth.

Jungwon almost fell down his chair. His hands were shaking and he felt how he suddenly had tears in his eyes.

“What?” Heeseung looked at him as his eyes glazed over.

“I - I don’t know” Jungwon whispered. He didn’t dare to hope that this meant what he thought it might. But as soon as all there was left was the after taste, it was replaced with a chocolate cookie, that then was replaced by a chocolate covered almond.

Jungwon left his members behind and hid his face in his hands in one of the corners of the room. Heeseung was by his side a second later.

“Hey, what’s going on” He pulled the younger man into his chest as he held him close while he cried. He sent the remaining boys panicked eyes, and they made sure to empty out the room to give their leader a bit of privacy.

“She knows who I am” Jungwon sobbed into his hyungs chest and the comment gained loud cheers from all of his brothers as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m so jealous!” Sunoo said, and couldn’t help but worry about his own soulmates heart as he knew their vision had just flashed every color under the sun.

“So what do we do now?” Niki asked.

They looked at one another but the room remained quiet, none of them had any idea what so ever. The mark the two of you shared made it a little harder to locate one another. Unless you ate something, somewhere in the city that Jungwon visited regularly, it was close to impossible. Especially since you couldn’t just walk through the front door at HYBE.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait until she figures something out” He answered as he dried his eyes. “Not let’s get back to work!” The kitten had once again become the leader.

You spent the next few days eating the same desert at almost 2 am every night. He knew it meant something, so he sent assistants out every night to collect anything even a little similar to the sweet, at every cafe close to their office and dorm. But every day he had to fall asleep disappointed, and you fell asleep with a stomach ache.

The guys were working on a comeback and had been in the studio until the late hours of the night, some might even call it in the early mornings. Heeseungs directions were almost as strict as Woozi’s were, at least if Jay were to believe Jun, as he had sat in on a session to provide feedback. The many sweets did however cause the guys to expect it every night, especially since Jungwon always was the one paying for them.

One night they were on their way home, this time the guys themselves stopped at yet another open cafe. Niki and Jake went in to pick up the large order.

“Picking up for Sim” Niki said with a somewhat low voice despite the almost empty room. He heard Jake laughed quietly, and he got a pointed finger at a young woman hitting her head against the table in front of her, as she stared at a raspberry cake.

“God I don’t wanna eat you” you kept repeating. You were so sick of the buttery dough, and the crunchy shell with the both sweet and somewhat bitter raspberry filling.

“You okay?” Jake asked.

You lifted your head towards the two caps and masks of what seemed like young men. You gave them a smile and a nod before groaning as you once again hit your head against the table. Niki laughed loudly.

“I’m not, I’m so fucking sick of eating this shitty desert” You said, forehead still resting against the wood.

The two friends were shocked at your boldness and of how you seemed to disregard the woman behind the counter. Niki was about to apologize when the woman told them that it was okay. She felt honored that you had chosen one of her cakes as the one to eat.

Niki smiled. “Taste mark, huh?” He asked and you sent them a thumbs up before dipping your finger in the raspberry cream.

“This is the only bakery in the city that makes this dessert with the berry. It seems that would be a given, but noooo… He insists on trying ever other cake with the taste” you said dramatically.

Jake took off so fast all you could do was stare after him in chock as he ran out of the shop as fast as he could and yanked the door to the car open. “Won, get the fuck in there!” He yelled.

“Really not in the mood okay, just give me my cake and let’s get home” he said as he pulled his hat down over his eyes.

“Nope!” Jake said as he pulled it off of him. He tried fixing his hair with his spit.

“That’s disgusting,” Sunghoon said with a grimace.

“You’re going in there, right. fucking. now” He opened his seat belt and pulled him out of the vehicle, before shutting the door after the man, to shut up the protest from the remaining members.

Jake pushed Jungwon all the way into the cafe, kicked him inside the door and grabbed Niki before shutting the door behind his leader, holding it shut.

“Jesus fuck Jake, what’s your problem? I said I would pay didn’t I?” He yelled through the glass where his two friends remained and did nothing more than to gesture that he should go.

The chaos had gotten your attention. And you looked up at the blond with eyes as piercing and special as a cat, and your breath hitched. Behind the window next to you stood none other than Kim Sunoo, with no mask and gestured for you to get the fuck up.

You coughed, hoping to get his attention, but he kept his back to you.

“Rasberry tarte?” You asked with a shaking voice as he grabbed the box in front of him.

He turned with a smile. "Exactly! How did you…” And as his eyes, as beautiful as crescent moons met yours, he dropped the box. “Know…”

“Holy shit” Was all he said before he bent down to pick up the cakes. You were next to him within a second.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I should’ve said something else, or just tabbed you on your shoulder or something instead of startling you”

He just stared at you while you kept rambling, as you tried to scoop up the cakes. God you looked beautiful, and the faint smell of raspberry made him almost lose his mind. He knew that was the same taste that was currently coated on his tongue. He wondered if it tasted sweeter in your mouth than in his, and had to mentally hit himself before he got carried away.

Instead of stopping your rambling with words he just grabbed onto you and pulled you into his arms. You screamed in surprise, but as soon as he started laughing, well so did you.

“You’re here” he kept repeating, and everytime he did you answered; “I am”.

None of you didn’t seem to mind that he had dragged you through all the cakes, all he did was to bury his head in the crook of your neck, as he laughed in pure bliss and utter disbelief.

The guys had celebrated and laughed at both of your expenses. It had been a mess trying to get the two of you cleaned up before the chauffeur would allow you in the car.

As you all got back to the dorm he constantly had your hands in his as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, the gesture calmed you and made it absolutely impossible for you to stop smiling.

Jungwon went to his room and returned with a set of slacks for you to change into, all the while he to changed out of the cake smothered outfit.

“We’re matching” you said as you made a pirouette as you entered his room. The matching outfits had definitely been a part of his plan, and he absolutely adored the way you looked in his clothes. He made a mental note of always making sure that the two of you would always be matching.

“You look good” He said as he pulled on the large hoodie, pulling you towards the bed.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously. This was after all very new to you, to the both of you. He pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear and send you a half smile, as he hummed a tone.

“So… Any questions?” You asked as you pulled on his fingers, you wanted to hold his hand, but had trouble actually doing it.

Instead he did it for you, and intertwined his fingers with yours, you hummed by the skin to skin contact.

“I do have one…” He said and couldn’t help but laugh. “Why so many lemons?”

You laughed, it was loud and uncontrollable, and he couldn’t help but wish he were to hear that sound for the rest of his life. He smiled at the sound, and you saw how his eyes were shining like little stars when he looked at you.

When you catched your breath you told him: “Well I’m a pastry chef, so my profession is basically just baking and tasting cakes”

That made a lot of sense.

“And your obsession with chocolate” he was just about to protest when you held a finger to his lips to shut him up, “kind of ruined that a little. The lemons was a palate cleanser, and a small fuck you for ruining my taste tests”

He just smiled, as utterly bitter the days had been when the two of you ate sweets with lemon in between, it was also the reason the two of you had found one another. He was grateful.

“I’m sorry” he said as he laid down on the bed. “That must’ve been annoying”

You shrugged before joining him. “It’s okay, it let me here in the end, so there’s not much to complain about really”

His smile haltered and you saw how his eyes turned sad.

“What’s wrong?” You asked right before you stroked his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, savoring the warmth. “When are you leaving?” he asked with a small voice.

You laid down on the mattress and looked up at him, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Well that depends on you”

He perked up a little, and you ‘boob’ed’ his nose earning you a dimpled smile before you continued: “I’m done with school, so in reality the only thing kicking me home is my visa. Honestly I only need a job. But something tells me the sweet old auntie from tonight might offer me one on the spot after tonight”

It was a pretty good story, and he couldn’t wait to tell it over and over again as the two of you grew older together.

“We better drop by tomorrow then, but for now I wanna know everything there is to know about you my sweet”

“My sweet, I like that!” You said. You saw how his eyes lingered at your mouth, and before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance between the two of you.

He savored the softness of your lips, the way your breath became faster, and how he could almost hear the beating of you heart. You really was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

Taglist: @why4anne @juicygirl4life @azzy02 @bluxjun @why-did-i-just-do-this

note: thank you all so so much for the response to this series, i honestly cant belive it! please reachout with feedback, theories or if you wanna be added to the taglist!

[spread-the-influence]

i'm sorry this has been my roman empire SINCE i entered the fandom i have to get even more into detail . please forgive me for another essay

i don't want to bash on people's interpretations of ragatha because at the end of the day we will only truly know her once the other 5 episodes of tadc release .

so , i am Not going to list stuff i don't like . INSTEAD i'm just going to go into what i think is often missing when it comes to ragatha because my problem with fanon content of her is that she doesn't Feel like Ragatha enough . she often times feel more like a predisposed caretaker character that will have whispers of ragatha's flaws but none of , like , The Character if you get what i'm saying .

SILLINESS - this is the one that sticks out the most to me because it's Very obvious when there's not enough silliness in a ragatha . again , she's emotionally immature , which is apparent in her dialogue and gestures . maybe it's the psychology nerd in me but i Never really got mom vibes from her , i always saw everything she does as an epitome of anxious attachment i ammm not against putting her in a mom-child dynamic , i am not against the concept of mom ragatha and i have seen a fic that executed that well . it's just that when i see it pulled off , it's often ignoring that she puts one million emotional walls between herself and everybody - and it also ignores that there have been many implications where she's Not as helpful as she seems . this also often leads to infantilizing pomni and i Do not like that as well

insincerity - this is something that makes me go INSANE when i see it represented . i need to see this girl be dishonest , or Lie . i think it's so fascinating how much she hides her feelings to keep others from not liking her . i also think this is one thing i always find missing whenever i see other people's ragathas . there's just not enough of that insincerity . i'm not saying you should make her Lie all the time i'm saying that ragatha puts up a mask and is constantly thinking about what'll make the other person not hate her . she's just not a genuine person , which doesn't really help you on forming deep and personal relationships .

instability - ragatha does Not have her shit together i'm sorry . she wants people to like her to the point it's unhealthy and she has a grasp on her happy mask tighter than gangle's . this woman is a cocktail of internal issues . her self-esteem is Six Foot Underground . i have joked that she would do drugs if given the chance and guess what this bitch is at high risk of developing an addiction — now she's not like completely dysfunctional . but something to note is that her coping mechanisms are : Suppress Everything That Makes You Feel Bad , Ignore Your Pain , and Rely On Other People's Approval . we still don't know exactly Why she does those other than ' to not abstract ' , believe it or not they're still up for interpretation right now but yeah those are the stuff she does .

Does this make anyone else think of how the fandom treats Ragatha?

ehh i feel like the fandom has done a good job of acknowledging her flaws and how she's a people pleaser . if there's a problem i have with the general characterization of ragatha really , it's that there's just so little ... ragathaness in it ??

to put it into words , i feel like not a lot of people grasp that ragatha , at her core , is Emotionally Immature . she doesn't really act like her age . and i'm not saying that turning 30 means you have it all together and all of your problems disappear , it's more like that if we Ignored pomni and ragatha's appearances and compared their actions together , people would've thought that ragatha was Younger than her .

and this is intentional to show the contrast between them . pomni , whenever she's having The Conversation™ , tries to understand and offer suggestions . ragatha , i'm sure she does lend a listening ear but i do not trust ragatha " Toxic Positivity Incarnate " tadc to give advice that isn't as surface level as ' just don't worry about it ! ' or ' keep smiling ! ' , which is already kind of implied through gangle's dialogue

it just puts me off in a lot of fanon content . like i would read a fic and then i had to put it down because i'm like No ragatha knows too much about what she's doing She Literally Never Does that's her point please a ragatha is not complete without some element of anxiety , insincerity , and silliness i have the ragatha recipe right here

[saoirseyun]

⸝⸝ x fem reader

‹‘ 🚬 ’›— trust/vulnerability

CW :: slightly angsty, sui ideation.

—The touch on sunlight oozing from the window blinds of Dazai's dorm laze on the surface of your skin free. Kissing to golden hues lightly shining—bold to highlight sweet specks of your dear body. Despite the careless, sensual feels clouding the atmosphere under sunny skies, how you yourself indulged on the comfort of his futon, a chilling numb bothers you deeply on dead silence towards uncomfortable. It just wasn't that however, is it? You knew it yourself personally but you couldn't point a finger on what really did made you feel so pent up. Loose breathing becomes evident, the touch of your own hands tugging aside messy baby hairs... "[name]?" A grasp reaches your shoulder, alarming—worrying. Dazai lightly reaching out for you at tender and warmth. Groaning, you could barely have yourself face him. "...Sorry, just thinkin' about things." Which is perfectly fine on its own! Insignificant or whatever it was, Dazai still probes you to tell him. You shuffle a reluctant look. "Well—you know..."

"...I can't exactly stop wondering about those countless tries at suicide." You managed to say, in a way that was unreachable—unapproachable. Conflicted. "You'll play around with your own life reckless with me and maybe others suffering the result... Won't you talk to me?" You ruffle your hands into a mess between your hair. "I could try my hardest to help, and—!"

"Don't take it too seriously."

You double take his words. Giving Dazai one last confused glance before disregarding those words completely rash. How your voice comes off as like a furious retort, alongside Dazai watching your movements being much more frantic. You sat up with an impatient look, waiting for him to reply... "I haven't found a method to painless death yet, there's not a chance of you losing me."

But you hate it. You hate how simple he makes it sounds. Why can't Dazai get it? Grief to over what isn't dead, right—you're too good at doing such. That's what makes this so terrifying. An empty stare from his face, some tension in his expression. There was no other way to put it so easily for Dazai to say. "Listen, [name]. It's hard for me to try and talk about this with you."

"It's best if you weren't involved at all."

You held his hands—suffering panic from hesitancy. Remaining silent. What were you supposed to tell him, just what or would it be enough even for him to reconsider? You're the worst.

"Bella... Can't we just enjoy now?" Pressing against bodies of one another, warped together in a single hug and doing nothing but appreciate closure.

"Now?"

Dazai nods, whispering quiet—"Yeah."

"...Just... Right before I die." You frowned when Dazai smiles back sweetly. Shutting his eyes and syncing together hand-to-hand.

"And who's saying you wouldn't die alone?"

A/N; there are suicide prevention hotlines that's listed below: USA, Canada, UK, other regions or countries reminder that there's absolutely no shame in seeking help. if you or anyone you know of struggle with any sort of suicidal thoughts or even self harm, please try and get in touch with the necessary support you or they may be needing. from south korea with love, ~수빈

12/18 for my valentine's special masterlist -— daily clicks

@emyyy007, @emmzai, @adventurinea, @moomuzan, @kissedloveletters, @skibididazai, @iams0up

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

I'd love to request something then 🥰. A David & Dwayne x fem!reader. She lives alone in Santa Carla after escaping her family and she has a hard time adjusting, bc she's introvert and insecure about herself (chubby, scars due to abusive and SH past etc etc). The boys are attracted to, her darkness if that makes sense (I hope it's fine!!). The boys wanna take her it with them, & David & Dwayne eventually realizing she's their mate? (fluff is fine, even a bit more if you're fine with that!)

I hope you like this! After finishing this, I realise I kind of strayed away from your prompt, but I hope you'll still enjoy it!💜

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

The room was quiet. Dark. Cold. I sighed as I turned around in my bed, pulling the blankets over me again. Tomorrow I'd really have to call the water company and the electrician. I had bought this place on a whim, needing to have something to call my own, and I hadn't paid any attention to the details mentioned in the listing.

I wish I had now, now that I felt like my toes were freezing off. Still, I thought as I curled up in myself, it was still not as bad as it was before.

It was hours later when I woke up, the sun high in the sky already. I sighed, grabbing a warm sweater and some thick socks to keep myself warm. I quickly brushed my teeth, deciding to ignore breakfast until after I made the necessary phone calls. I took a deep breath as I walked to the landline, thankful that that one was, in fact, working. Silently, I repeated the rehearsed frases in my head.

"Hi, do I speak with the company? I need some help, because the thing isn't working in my new house."

It would be something like that, I figured. Nothing too complicated. Just two easy sentences. I could do this. I picked up the phone, dialling the number for the watercompany. It rang.

Once. Twice.

Please leave a message after -

Frustrated, I dropped the horn on its hook, redialing the number. This time, I had more luck getting an answer.

"Yeah?"

"You're the watercompany, right?" I asked, my voice more unsure than I would have liked.

"Yeah."

"My house isn't connected, it seems. Can that like - maybe, I don't know, ehm - be fixed? I mean," I laughed, although it was more out of awkwardness and despair than out of actual joy, "I'd really like to have some water here."

"Yeah."

I sighed, giving more of my information. All the guy on the phone said was yeah, as if he had never learnt to speak another word whatsoever. Still, I had been told that someone would be by this afternoon. I then rang the electrician, who was way more pleasant on the phone. He was in the area, offering to come by within the hour.

I'd agreed readily.

The electrician, Henry, a man who reminded me of my late grandfather, was done quickly. It had been a matter of some cables not connecting well, and now I was the proud owner of a house with a working light bulb. Small victories, and all that.

"So, what made you decide to move to the murder capital of the world?"

"I needed a fresh start - wait, did you say murder capital?" I asked with a frown as I walked him to the door.

He nodded. "Lots of people end up missing or dead. We don't know why, but it happens. Hence the name."

"Crap... that's why the house was so cheep."

"Maybe," the man chuckled, "but despite there being some truths to the disappearances, I doubt you'd be in any danger. You don't seem like a party animal to me."

I nodded. "So, as long as I stay clear from parties I'd be fine?"

"Most likely, yeah. Anyways, don't stress about it too much. You're young, go to the boardwalk some time, and enjoy yourself."

He had been gone for less than ten minutes, or some guy from the watercompany rang the doorbell, and went to work without saying much to me.

It was hours later when he was done, but I had water. And electricity. I could cook, shower, bathe - I sighed as I let myself fall on the couch, I was too tired to do any of those things. There had been too many people today, and I just needed some desperate alone time just for me. I was really thankful now that I'd bought some frozen pizzas on my way here, and as I turned the oven on, I couldn't help but wonder if moving here, leaving home and all it's miseries behind, if it was worth it.

"Someone moved into the old Emerson place," Paul stated as he entered the cave. He had a plastic bag in his hand, and couple of boxes with Chinese filling it.

"So?" David looked at him.

"Just thought you should know," he shrugged. It didn't matter much, but every since that night, a couple of years ago, they avoided that area of town as much as they could.

"As long as they don't go digging in the backyard, we have nothing to worry about, " Dwayne shrugged.

"She doesn't seem the type."

"You stayed long enough to stalk her?" Marko chuckled, shaking his head.

Paul threw a carton box towards him, grinning as it hit his head. "Nope, I just don't think that this quiet thing would go outside."

I woke up late the next day. I had only been here for a few days, and I had not once woken up before noon. Before, I always awoke around six thirty, doing my chores and other things that needed to be done. Never, not ever, had I been able to sleep in. So why was I able to now?

Was it because I finally had a place of my own? I finally experienced freedom? Or was i getting sick?

I shook my head, taking a deep breath as I got up. Today, I needed to make a trip to the boardwalk. I needed some paints for my rooms, and maybe it would be good for me to actually leave the house for once. Not that I necessarily liked the idea, but I also knew that interacting with others would be good. If only for a little while.

I spent the rest of the day getting ready. I picked some loose-fitting clothing, warm enough for the autumn breeze that was blowing coldly over Santa Carla. I pulled on some black leather boots, brushing my hair quickly as I decided to forgo any makeup for today. This wasn't going to be a long trip.

It was nearing sunset as I entered the boardwalk, the place more crowded than I would have liked. People were everywhere, pushing and moving, tugging others along. I had no choice but to let myself drift along with the crowd, slowly making my way away from the stream when I saw a small hardware store located near what seemed to be a videostore.

I was thankful to no longer be stuck in the crowd and pushed the door to the store open, right into someone's face. I froze, staring wide-eyed at the man in front of me. He was tall, an almost scary look on his face as he looked at me, his brunet hair falling down his face.

"I- I am so sorry, I didn't-"

He looked at me, causing me to feel flustered. He truly was rather handsome. Too handsome for me, I knew that. But still, one can dream, right?

"It's fine," he said, his voice deeper than I'd expected. I looked after him as he left, shaking my head slightly as I tried to remove his image from my brain. I quickly picked some paints - a dark blue and ocher yellow, a colourmatch I'd loved for ages - and paid for them. I left the store, walking down the boardwalk to the entrance.

It was getting busier and I just wanted to go home. I walked further, the plastic bag with paint cans in my hands as I heard the rumbling engine of a motorcycle behind me.

"You need a ride?"

I looked up and saw that it was the guy I'd run into in the hardware store.

"It's alright," I said quietly, not sure if he heard me.

"You sure? There are not too many houses around here, and it's not a good idea to be out alone in the dark."

I shook my head, remembering how former classmates repeatedly reassured me that I didn't have to worry about that because kidnappers and rapists would pick someone prettier. Assholes that they were. I sighed, looking at the guy.

"Why would you offer me a ride?"

He shrugged. "Why not? Besides, it's already getting late, and I imagine you'd rather be home before morning."

I looked at my watch and realised he was right. "Thank you," I said gratefully as I got on the back of his bike with his assistance. I introduced myself, but he didn't respond with his name. Instead he drove off, straight to my home.

"How do you know where I live?" I asked him confused as I got off.

"This was the only house for sale in the last couple of weeks. And since you're new-"

"Am I that obvious?"

"No," he gave me a small smile, "we just come down to the boardwalk almost daily. We know everyone's faces, just not yours. Not yet."

"Maybe you will," I said quietly, quietly wondering what it was that made me say this. As if I'd ever go back to the boardwalk while it was so busy at night.

"I'll see you around, love," he said, stepping back on his bike.

"Wait, what's you're name?"

"I'm Dwayne."

With that he drove off.

"And?" David looked at Dwayne as he entered the cave last.

"She's sweet. Harmless." He couldn't help but grin. "There's something about her."

"Yeah?"

"She's not just another run away. There's something more. Like she's seen things that she shouldn't have."

David nodded. "You think it is her?"

Dwayne thought about it. For days, the two of them had felt the pull of a third and final mate bond. The bond was forming quickly and steadily, and soon, they'd be able to follow their gut feeling towards their mate. But for now? Dwayne nodded.

"She seemed more level-headed than us, but I am quite certain she can live like we do."

"Maybe I'll meet her tomorrow," David shrugged, standing up. "If i come to the same conclusion as you, we'll need to make her ours."

I groaned as I opened my fridge. All day, I had been working on painting my room, forgetting the necessity of making a trip to the grocery store. Now it was night, I had yet to eat dinner, and all I had in my fridge was an old bottle of coke.

"Guess I'll go to the boardwalk..." I mumbled, taking my paint spattered clothes of and quickly changing into something clean. I didn't stop to look in the mirror before I went, a thing I would regret later on, I'm certain. At that moment, it didn't matter. I needed food, and the only place I was going to get that at this hour was the boardwalk.

It took me about an hour to get there, and I had just enough luck on my side that the Chinese place was still open and serving as I entered. I greeted the owner, placed my order, and sat down on a bench, waiting for my order to be called.

"So you've been painting all day, hm?" I looked up, seeing two men in front of me. Dwayne and some other guy.

"How did you know?" I frowned slightly.

"You've got a blue streak on your cheek."

I tried to stand up to go to the bathroom to clean myself up, but found myself unable to do so as the guy went to sit down next to me. I shoved over a bit, feeling just the slightest hint uncomfortable.

"How do you like Santa Carla?"

"I don't know, it's okay, I guess?" I shrugged.

"You haven't had a chance to see it?" Dwayne asked. I shook my head.

"I've got a lot to do at home, and-" I shook my head. It didn't matter.

"And what?" The other guy, who had yet to introduce himself, looked at me.

"I just don't like crowds," I decided quickly before asking his name.

"David," he said, "and what if we can over you Santa Carla without the crowds?"

"Good luck with that," I muttered, sceptical. As if that was ever going to happen.

"No, you'll see," Dwayne chuckled, "David's right. How about we pick you up tomorrow and show you around?"

I was quiet for a moment, before nodding. "What time?"

"Ten. Things will have quieted down here."

Time passed quickly, and as I woke up the next afternoon, I couldn't help but wonder why i had agreed to this date. I had liked the conversation we'd had, sure. But to go on a date? Later that evening, David had even explicitly called it that, and I hadn't even corrected him. And then a date with the two of them?

I didn't mind that, truly, they were both incredibly handsome and as far as I could tell with how little I know them, kind and somewhat sweet - but still. It was a bit, odd, wasn't it?

The rest of the day, I worked on decorating my house, making sure I was ready to go by ten. I'd opted to wear a dress, liking the way it flowed around my legs. Despite the warmth of the evening, I decided to wear a black cardigan on top, completing my outfit.

"Damn," Dwayne grinned as he saw me, causing me to smile shyly. David stood behind him, waiting on his bike.

"You look nice," he said as he offered me a seat. I got on behind him, and we made our way to the boardwalk.

Just as he had promised, like they'd both promised, the boardwalk was practically empty tonight. I didn't know how they'd done it, but it felt incredible. No crowds to drown in, no people pulling you one way when you wanted to go another... I let the two of them guide me over the boardwalk, taking me on rides. We talked about everything, from favourite colours to deepest fears, from hobbies to pet peeves - it was incredible to get to know them, to see them and to let them get to know me.

Even though I had only known Dwayne for three days and David for two, I felt like I had known them all my life, like they were a missing piece of the puzzle I called myself.

As they said goodbye when it was close to sunrise, I couldn't help but melt in their arms as they both pressed a soft kiss on my cheek.

Yeah, I decided quietly. This was it.

In the days that followed, I kept hanging out with them. They'd stop by sometime during the night, taking me to the boardwalk whenever most of the crowds had left. I had met their friends, Paul and Marko, and I had a hard time admitting to myself that I actually enjoyed their company.

I had known them for a month when they took me to their place, this strange yet almost magical cave. It was there that they told me what they were.

I hadn't known what to do, so I hadn't done anything. It was a horrifying thought, but then again, a part of me truly loved them. A part of me couldn't live without them. So, despite refusing to drink and become one of them, I did accept them.

It just took me a day or two. Three.

But once I did accept it, our bond grew only stronger. No longer could I imagine not spending the night with them. No longer could I stand the thought of not seeing them. I stayed over at their place, sleeping between them almost as often as they stayed at mine. We talked, more deeply than before, them answering as honest as they could when I asked them about their immortality.

It was then, five weeks after I learnt what they were, three months after I met them, that i decided to become like them. I was theirs, and I couldn't live with the thought of letting them wake up one day without me. Nor did I want to wake up without them.

So, when David offered once again, I drank, sealing my fate as their mate.

[judaismandsuch]

So there is a very interesting read of this bracha/brachot, that is not necessarily true, but makes enough sense to me that I buy it.

So some light background: these three brachot 'that you have not made me a slave, not made me a gentile, not made me a woman' are the only negative brachot in all of Jewish liturgy.

This is the only time when we praise HaShem for not doing something. Which makes sense, there are an infinite number of things G-d has not done, but only a finite number of things that G-d has.

Which then leads us to ask: Why these three? They could equally well be formulated as positives, "That you made me free", "That you made me a Jew", "That you made me a Man" ('You made me as you desired' would also make sense, but technically wouldn't refer to just gender or sex, so applies slightly worse.).

One answer (the one I agree with) is that it is a response to Christianity (What? Part of Jewish is just a middle finger to another religion?!? Yup. We just tend not to talk about it. Hallel is hilarious for it btw).

In Galatians there is the following line: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (3:28).

Look familiar? Yeah, the three things it lists as being equal are the only three things we thank G-d for not being.

So it is not unlikely that this prayer is meant as a reply: 'There are differences. G-d made those differences intentionally, and thank HaShem that I am not in the other group.'

If one holds by that interpretation, I believe the best formulation to be 'Thank you for not making me a man' or 'Thank you for making me neither'.

Of course, this is not a super widely held view, and one should formulate it as one is comfortable with (within reason), but it provides a lovely explanation imo.

It is touched upon here btw

as a trans guy if i say שלא עשני אישה i would technically not be wrong

[stormspryzen]

alhaitham & paimon thoughts (with mentions of the traveler, wanderer, and nahida <3) because he is clearly fond of her and wants her to learn stuff, their stupid silly friendship is so sweet

i imagine enrolling into the akademiya would obviously require a pen on paper process, amongst other things - perhaps an entrance exam. since he's already done this before, and is doing this again for paimon without any notice to the traveler and her; he just checks off all the answers because he knows them already.

personal information? first name paimon, last name fairy, optional middle name floaty. or something like that.

age??? he just jots some random ass number down

address? he just puts down his own home address. easy peasy

paimon and the traveler receive TWO letters; one from him and another with a seal of the akademiya waxed onto it. the other letter was sent to his place, but he sends it with his own letter to Them.

they open his fucking letter and paimon loses her mind because "what do you mean that guy enrolled paimon into the akademiya!??!?!?" and the other letter is the acceptance letter - it details how she's been accepted and lists the courses and classes she'll take, what darshan she's in and all that

imagine she actually attends one class and it's with wanderer; he had no damn clue she was even enrolled until now. that makes both of them just fire up and want to better the other because . They're stupid like that

when wanderer gets back to nahida and tells her about it, she's like "oh yeah! i already know! alhaitham told me he was gonna do it"

he didn't tell her BECAUSE he wanted to get approval from her for it, no. he wasn't even gonna tell her. he just gave her a heads up about that because they happened to bump into each other at the house of daena that day, and he was like Sure why not . he would've done it regardless, whether he let nahida know ahead of time or not

anyways i have so many silly thoughts about them they are everything to me i love sumeru

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Daddy Issues - Johnny Seo x Reader

Now Playing: » Daddy Issues « The Neighbourhood 3:27 ─────〇─ 4:16 ⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

Pairing: Johnny x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 17,656 Total Word Count: 49,636 Part 1 of 3 - (Part 2) (Part 3)

Playlist Masterlist NCT Masterlist

Warnings: Age Gap, minor angst, not bad but not great relationship with dad

Summary: 🎵 Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues 🎵 or No one makes Y/n feel more rejected that her father. That's what leads her to seek friendship with a bartender

A/N: Waa Waa Wee Waa! Part two of the NCT playlist series out! Yay! We got this daddy of a man, Johnny! Let's be real, we all got daddy fantasies about this man. Imma hit it off the bat, a lot of this fic ended up being mAD personal and stuff (with situations with dad and older friends), so it might not seem like that big of a deal, the situations, but...it's my experience, so yeah! (I have a very good relationship with my dad, do not worry) sorry it took so long to get this fic out, I've been mAD busy for no bloody reason, lol Anyways! I hope you enjoy this fic :) 💚

-

The rain clung to Y/n’s skin, cold and relentless, as if the sky reflected her despair. Her breath came in shaky bursts, mingling with the misty air as she hurried down the dimly lit street. 

By the time she reached the bar, her heart was heavy, and her tears, though mostly wiped away, still lingered on her cheeks, though the rain washed away whatever evidence was left.

Pushing open the door, she was met with the warm glow of dim lights and the soft hum of music playing from various speakers around the bar. 

The space was nearly empty, save for a couple of patrons nursing their drinks at the far end. Perfect. She didn’t need an audience tonight.

Y/n slipped onto a stool at the bar, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the counter. She tried to compose herself, brushing stray hairs out of her face and pressing her lips together to stop them from quivering.

“What can I get you?” a deep voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She glanced up, meeting the kind eyes of the bartender. His name tag read “Johnny”, and he looked effortlessly composed, a stark contrast to her disheveled state. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a flicker of concern passing over his features as if he could sense the storm brewing within her.

Y/n’s eyes flickered over the drink menu in front of her, the weird, random names of shots and jugs blurring together in her mind. 

Normally, she might’ve smirked at the creativity, or rolled her eyes, but tonight, she didn’t have the energy to care. It wasn’t about the taste or the experience. She just needed something to dull the ache clawing at her chest.

“I’ll have, uh…” She hesitated, scanning the list without really reading it. “Cowboy shot, green apple shot, red light shot, and…I don’t know. Just pick another one for me.” Her voice was flat, tinged with exhaustion, as she rested her elbows on the bar.

Johnny raised an eyebrow at her order but didn’t comment. Instead, he gave a small nod and turned to grab the required bottles. 

“Coming right up,” he said, his tone calm but edged with quiet curiosity. “Rough night?” he asked casually, his tone warm but not prying.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to people asking, and the kindness in his voice felt foreign. 

“Something like that,” she finally murmured, her fingers tracing the rim of the first glass he placed in front of her.

Johnny moved onto making the second shot, his movements smooth and deliberate. “Well, take it slow,” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of concern. “No rush on a quiet night like this.”

Y/n gave a faint nod, her gaze fixed on the first shot placed in front of her. It was a creamy looking shot that smelled of some kind of coffee liqueur. She wasn’t sure what to make of his attention. It wasn’t overbearing or judgmental, just…there. A steady presence that felt oddly comforting.

She downed the first shot quickly, wincing at the burn as it slid down her throat. The heat spread through her chest, momentarily distracting her from the cold knot of emotions she had carried in with her.

Johnny placed the next glass in front of her, leaning slightly on the counter. “So, what brings you out here tonight? Or is that too much to ask?”

Y/n glanced up at him, her lips tugging into a faint, humorless smile. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, her voice low. “I’m here to dull the emotions.”

He nodded, as if he understood more than she was willing to share. “Fair enough,” he replied, sliding the next drink toward her. “Just promise me you won’t try to forget too much at once.”

Her fingers hovered over the glass for a moment, his words lingering longer than she expected. There was something about him, his calm, steady presence, that felt safe, even in her vulnerable state.

She shook her head lightly, breaking the moment. “No promises,” she muttered before taking the next shot.

Johnny didn’t press further. He simply stood nearby, his quiet watchfulness making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Y/n blinked slowly as the warmth of the alcohol settled into her limbs, her mind still sharp but her body beginning to feel weightless, almost disconnected. When Johnny set the third drink in front of her, she didn’t hesitate. Gripping the glass, she downed the shot quickly, her lips pulling into a slight grimace at its syrupy, thick texture.

Johnny watched her closely, his brow furrowing as she set the empty glass down with a dull clink. He leaned forward on the counter, resting his arms there as his gaze lingered on her.

“You sure about that fourth one?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Y/n’s hand reached for the final shot almost instinctively, her fingers brushing the cool glass. “Yes,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Johnny didn’t move the glass away, but he hesitated, studying her for a moment. “It’s gonna hit you all at once if you’re not careful,” he warned gently.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression stubborn. “That’s the idea,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with an edge of pain.

Johnny exhaled through his nose, clearly uneasy, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he kept an eye on her. 

“Alright,” he said, a note of resignation in his tone. “But maybe slow down after this one, yeah?”

Y/n didn’t respond, her eyes fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding his gaze. Johnny sighed softly, shaking his head as he turned to prepare the fourth shot.

He moved quickly, grabbing a clean glass and the ingredients with practiced precision, but his eyes flicked back to her every few seconds. The way she sat there, silent and withdrawn, made his concern deepen.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual but laced with a subtle seriousness as he measured out the liquor, “most people who drink like this have a real problem…and need to talk.”

She still didn’t answer, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the bar. Her silence felt heavier now, like a shield she was using to keep him at arm’s length.

Johnny finished mixing the drink and set it down in front of her with a quiet thud. He didn’t say anything this time, just leaned on the counter, his steady gaze meeting hers as if waiting for her to break the silence.

-

Not even six minutes later, the weight of the alcohol hit Y/n like a tidal wave. Her light, weightless feeling gave way to a suffocating heaviness as her emotions surged to the surface. 

Silent tears rolled down her face, her shoulders trembling as she rested her head in her hands, trying to muffle the quiet sobs that escaped her.

Johnny remained where he was, leaning against the bar across from her. He’d been watching her closely, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. The way her breathing had deepened, the tremor in her hands. Now, as her tears fell, his expression softened further, concern etched into his features.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice low and steady, careful not to startle her. “You wanna talk about it, now?”

Y/n didn’t look up, her fingers tangling in her hair as she shook her head slightly. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

Johnny stayed silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the air before responding. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “Sometimes it helps, getting it out. Even to a stranger.”

She sniffled, her hands slowly sliding down to the bar as she wiped at her cheeks. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, finally lifted to meet his. “What do you even care?” she asked, her voice cracking with frustration, though it lacked any real malice.

Johnny tilted his head, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Because I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “And trust me, it’s a lot harder when you’re keeping it all bottled up.”

His sincerity seemed to disarm her. She looked away, biting her lip as fresh tears welled up, spilling over once again.

Y/n lifted her gaze back to him, her teary eyes shimmering under the dim bar lights. For a moment, her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but the weight of her emotions held her back. Finally, the dam broke.

“Why doesn’t my dad care about me?” she blurted, her voice shaky and raw. “He’s always ignoring me, like I don’t even exist. And when I try to talk to him, just to have a normal conversation with your dad, he gets all pissy, like I’m bothering him or something.”

Her hands curled into fists on the bar, her frustration spilling out in waves. “It’s like…I’m his daughter, but I feel like a stranger when I’m with him. I’ve done everything to make him proud, school, awards, everything! And it’s never enough. He just…” Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face again. “He doesn’t care.”

Johnny stayed silent, leaning on the bar with his arms folded, his expression calm but deeply empathetic. He didn’t interrupt or offer hollow reassurances. He simply listened, his steady presence grounding her as she poured her heart out.

“I don’t get it,” Y/n continued, her voice trembling with anger and sadness. “What did I do to make him hate me? Why is it so hard for him to just…see me?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with years of pain and neglect. Johnny let the moment breathe before speaking, his tone low and deliberate. “It’s not you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “It’s never been you.”

She looked at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The sincerity in his voice and the steadiness in his gaze caught her off guard.

“I don’t know what’s going on with your dad,” Johnny continued, “but you don’t deserve to feel like this. No one does. And for what it’s worth, it says more about him than it ever will about you.”

His words hung in the air, a strange comfort in the midst of her pain. For the first time, Y/n felt like someone was truly hearing her, understanding her, without judgment or dismissal.

“You’re better than this,” Johnny added gently, his tone firm yet kind. “And you deserve better than what he’s giving you.”

Y/n sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, a small, fragile smile tugging at her lips. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but grateful.

Johnny leaned against the bar, his expression soft and reassuring as he grabbed a clean glass, filling it with water. 

Setting it down in front of Y/n, he said, “Here. Drink this. It’ll help take the edge off.”

Y/n hesitated before taking the glass, her fingers brushing against his briefly. That small, unintentional touch felt warmer than she expected, grounding her amidst the chaos in her head.

Johnny opened his mouth to say more, but the faint sound of footsteps interrupted him. His coworker emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a towel. 

“Hey, Johnny, take your ten. I’ll handle the bar,” he said with an easygoing nod toward the clock.

Johnny frowned, glancing from Y/n to his coworker. “I can take it later. It’s fine–”

“Nah, man, I got this,” his coworker insisted, stepping closer. “You look like you need the break more than I do.” His voice was light, but there was no mistaking the underlying encouragement.

Reluctantly, Johnny straightened, his gaze lingering on Y/n. “I’ll be back in a few,” he said softly, his tone laced with hesitation. 

He didn’t want to leave her like this, not when she was so vulnerable, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Y/n gave him a faint nod, her fingers still wrapped around the glass of water. She watched as he moved to the back, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were reluctant to put any distance between them.

As the door swung shut behind him, the bar felt emptier despite the presence of a few other patrons. Y/n stared at the water in front of her, Johnny’s kindness still lingering like an echo in her mind.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel entirely invisible. And though he was gone for now, she had a feeling he’d come back. Something about the way he looked at her, listened to her, it felt different. Genuine. 

She took a sip of the water, the cold refreshing her throat and steadying her breaths. 

Even though Johnny had made her feel seen, appreciated, even, she still felt the heavy weight of years of emotional neglect pressing down on her chest. One conversation wasn’t going to fix that.

She looked up at the new bartender, her voice quiet but resolute. “Just…give me some random shots. I don’t care what they are.”

-

Johnny stepped back into the bar after his ten-minute break, running a hand through his hair as he scanned the room. His eyes landed on the girl, slumped over the counter with tear-streaked cheeks, her head cradled in her hands. Surrounding her were a cluster of empty shot glasses, ones he didn’t serve her.

His jaw tightened, and a wave of frustration surged through him. Striding over to his coworker, who was wiping down glasses behind the bar, Johnny’s voice was low but laced with anger.

“What the fuck, man?” Johnny hissed, gesturing toward Y/n. “What are you doing serving her more drinks, she’s wasted!”

The coworker shrugged, looking unbothered. “She asked for them. Didn’t seem like that big of a deal. She’s sitting down, not causing any trouble.”

Johnny’s glare sharpened. “It’s not about trouble. It’s about responsibility. You don’t just keep pouring for someone clearly out of it.”

Without waiting for a response, Johnny stepped away, grabbing a glass of water and heading straight for Y/n, his frustration giving way to concern as he bent slightly to meet her gaze.

"Hey, uh…girl," Johnny said softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. "Look at me for a second."

Y/n slowly lifted her head, her eyes red and glassy, streaked with tears that refused to stop. Seeing the pain etched across her face, Johnny's heart sank. He wasn’t sure entirely what she had been through, but it was written all over her.

"Here, drink some water," Johnny urged, placing a glass in her trembling hand. She tried to grip it, but her fingers were unsteady, barely able to hold it without spilling.

Johnny sighed, his frustration fading into pure concern. He reached behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of water and a box of tissues, setting them down beside her.

"Alright," he said gently but firmly, standing up straight. "We’re getting you out of here. I’m ordering you an Uber."

As he helped her to her feet, she stumbled, her legs shaky beneath her. Tears continued to spill down her face, her sobs audible now.

"Here, hold these," Johnny said, handing her the water bottle and tissues. 

He steadied her with a firm grip on her hips, guiding her toward the door. She leaned heavily against him, her body uncooperative as he carefully walked her outside.

Johnny settled her onto the edge of a low brick wall, ensuring she wouldn’t fall over anytime soon. Pulling out his phone, he opened the uber app and glanced back at her. "Okay, where do you live?"

"61…Thomson Cres…" Y/n slurred, her words barely coherent.

Johnny quickly entered the address and confirmed the ride. "Alright, it’ll be here in ten minutes," he said, turning back to her.

But before he could say more, Y/n suddenly pushed herself up from the wall, the water bottle and tissues slipping from her grasp. She stumbled toward the gutter and vomited.

"Shit," Johnny muttered, rushing to her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her securely to prevent her from falling forward.

"It’s okay," he said softly, keeping her upright while she continued. "Just get it out. I’ve got you."

When she finally stopped, Johnny grabbed the tissues from the ground, offering them to her with a steady hand. "Here. Clean yourself up a bit," he said, his voice calm despite the situation.

Y/n took the tissues weakly, her gaze unfocused but grateful. Her throat burned from the stomach acid and alcohol that made it’s way back up. Johnny stayed close, his presence a quiet reassurance as he looked over her.

Johnny sighed deeply, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at the girl leaning heavily against him. Her face was etched with exhaustion and sadness, and her trembling body felt so fragile in his arms. He couldn't shake the thought of her alone in an Uber, her head slumped against the window, or worse, passing out as she tried to stumble out of the car. The idea made his chest tighten.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching.

Pulling out his phone, Johnny canceled the Uber with a few quick taps. He glanced down at her, her glazed-over eyes barely registering her surroundings. "I’m driving you home, okay?" he said firmly.

She gave the faintest nod, but he wasn’t sure she even understood. Still, it was enough for him.

"Alright, come on," he said softly, steadying her as he guided her toward the employee parking lot. She leaned against him, her steps uneven and sluggish.

Johnny unlocked his car, the soft beep echoing in the quiet night. He opened the passenger door and carefully helped her inside, easing her into the seat and buckling the seatbelt securely over her. 

"Stay still," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face before shutting the door.

Rushing around to the driver’s side, he slid into the seat and pulled up his phone’s GPS, quickly entering her address. With a deep breath, he started the engine and eased out of the parking lot.

The road stretched out in front of them, the steady rhythm of the rain tapping against the windshield. Johnny stole a glance at the girl slumped in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window, her tears streaked down her face.

What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to call an Uber, let someone else take responsibility, and get back to work. But here he was, driving a stranger home in the middle of his shift.

He sighed again, his grip tightening on the wheel. She looked so young, so vulnerable, and so damn broken. He couldn’t just leave her like that. Not when she needed someone to look out for her.

“I’ll get you home safe,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than her, as the dim glow of streetlights passed by. 

He didn’t know this girl, didn’t even know her name, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. She was in his care now, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

About ten minutes into the drive, Y/n started to stir, her body shifting slightly as she sat up straighter in the passenger seat. Her eyes blinked a few times, as if trying to adjust to her surroundings. She glanced out the window, taking in the passing streetlights and the quiet night air.

Johnny noticed the change immediately. He slowed the car slightly and reached into the cup holder, grabbing the bottle of water he had set there earlier. 

“Here,” he said gently, offering it to her. “Drink some water.”

Y/n’s hands were still a little shaky, but she took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and drinking slowly, as though it was the first time in years that she’d had anything to hydrate her. 

As she lowered the bottle, Johnny glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “We’re about eight minutes out from your place. How you feeling?”

She paused for a moment, the words seeming to process slowly. “Uh…a bit better,” she replied, her voice hoarse but softer now. “Letting it out helped.”

A small, quiet smile tugged at the corner of Johnny’s mouth, though it was fleeting. "That’s good to hear," he said, his tone warm but steady.

He kept his eyes on the road, but the sound of her voice, less distant than before, felt like a small victory. There was something in the way she spoke now, a slight shift from the wall of emotion she’d been wrapped in earlier.

Johnny didn’t know how much of it was the alcohol wearing off or just her finally starting to feel a little less like she was drowning in her own thoughts. But whatever it was, it was a good sign. He would get her home, get her somewhere safe, and maybe, just maybe, help her piece a little of this night back together.

The drive continued in a silence that wasn’t as heavy as before. Y/n still seemed distant, her eyes lost in thought, but there was a slight relaxation in her posture now. 

Johnny’s eyes kept flickering to her, though he tried to keep his focus on the road. So broken yet somehow still here, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for getting her through this night.

The streetlights flickered as they drove through quieter parts of town, and Johnny’s fingers tapped absently on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, whether she even wanted to talk more, or if she just needed the space. 

He tried to gauge her mood, but her silence wasn’t closed off like before. It felt more like a pause, as though she was gathering her thoughts.

After a few moments, Y/n finally spoke again, her voice softer than before. “I don’t know what to say to him anymore.” Her words were almost a whisper, but Johnny could hear the weight of them in the quiet of the car.

“Your dad?” Johnny asked, glancing over at her quickly.

She nodded, her hand resting limply on her lap. “Yeah. He…he just doesn’t care. Every time I try to talk to him, it’s like I’m invisible to him. Or worse, I’m a nuisance.” 

She let out a shaky sigh, her eyes drifting down to the seatbelt over her lap. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t even know if I want to anymore.”

Johnny’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his thoughts swirling. The frustration was clear in her voice, the hurt that had built up over years of being ignored. It hit him harder than he expected. Too close to home. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, more to himself than her. “That’s…that’s really tough.”

Y/n’s head drooped slightly, but she let out a small laugh, more of a bitter chuckle. “Tough? Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Johnny didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t need to say anything else. The moment was heavy with her pain, and she didn’t need empty reassurances. 

She needed someone who was there, who would listen, who wouldn’t leave when it got too much.

As the car pulled closer to her place, the street signs growing familiar to her, Johnny glanced at her once more, catching her tired eyes. 

“I’m still here, kinda..” He chuckled. “You don’t have to be alone right now.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, but her lips trembled as though she was fighting another wave of emotion. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment before she glanced out the window again.

The car came to a stop as they neared her apartment complex, and Johnny turned off the engine, taking a deep breath before opening the door. 

“Alright,” he said, turning to face her. “We’re here. I’ll walk you up.”

She didn’t protest, just nodded faintly, and Johnny got out, coming around to open her door. He helped her out gently, careful not to jar her. 

With the night still heavy around them, they made their way to her front door in silence. When they reached the door, Johnny stood back a little, giving her space.

Johnny watched as Y/n stepped up to her door, her movements slow but steady, a quiet strength in her despite the rawness of everything she’d just shared. 

He stood there, waiting for her to turn back or say something more, but she simply gave him a faint nod. The weight of the night was still heavy on both of them, but there was an unspoken understanding between them now.

“Well, this is it,” Johnny said, his voice soft but clear.

Y/n turned to face him, her eyes still a little red, but there was something different there, a quiet gratitude, perhaps. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “For everything. Really.”

Johnny gave a small nod, unsure of what else to say. “You’re welcome. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

“I will,” she promised, the words hanging in the air between them for a moment.

Without another word, Y/n stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Johnny stood there for a moment longer, his eyes on the door, his thoughts a swirl of uncertainty. 

He’d done what he could, even though he hadn’t known her, even though she probably wouldn’t remember him tomorrow. But for tonight, he had been there when she needed someone, and that was enough.

With a sigh, Johnny turned and made his way back to his car, the night settling in around him as he drove off into the quiet of the city, the weight of the evening slowly fading.

-

Waking up was pure agony. Y/n cracked her eyes open, only to groan and squeeze them shut again as the light streaming through her curtains sent a sharp throb through her skull. She felt like her brain was trying to jump out of her head, and her stomach rolled uneasily in protest.

“How much did I even drink?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, as if that might somehow stop the pounding.

The idea of moving seemed impossible, but the gurgling emptiness in her stomach reminded her she needed something to keep from feeling like complete death. She reached blindly for her phone on the bedside table, her fingers fumbling before finally grabbing hold of it.

With a deep sigh, Y/n pressed her best friend's contact. The line barely rang before Yangyang's cheerful voice answered, far too bright for her current state.

“Hi hi!” he chirped, oblivious to her suffering.

“Yangyang,” Y/n groaned, her face half-buried in her pillow. “Can you pick me up some chicken and chips or something?”

“Lazy ass,” he teased, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Hungover, actually,” she muttered, her words muffled by the pillow.

There was a dramatic gasp on the other end of the line. “What!? You went drinking without me? How dare you!”

“Yangyang,” she said, her tone deadpan. “We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

“Who said I’m even coming?” he shot back indignantly. “I didn’t agree to–”

“Thanks, bye,” Y/n cut him off, hanging up before he could finish.

Dropping the phone back onto the table, she let out a heavy sigh. Yangyang would come. He always did, no matter how much he pretended to complain. For now, all she had to do was survive until he showed up with her greasy hangover cure.

-

It wasn’t long before Y/n’s phone buzzed with a text from Yangyang, "I’m at the door." 

She groaned, typing back, "Use the spare key."

A moment later, she heard the familiar click of her door unlocking and footsteps echoing through the apartment.

“Can’t even open a door for me!” Yangyang shouted sarcastically from downstairs, his voice dripping with mock offence.

A faint smirk tugged at Y/n’s lips, but she didn’t bother to respond. Moments later, Yangyang appeared in her doorway, shaking his head when he saw her sprawled face-down on the bed.

“Hell, not taking the hangover well, I see,” he said, dropping his bag onto the floor and walking over.

“Did you bring my food?” Y/n mumbled, her voice muffled against the mattress.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yangyang said with a roll of his eyes. He sat on the other side of her bed, setting the plastic bag beside her.

Summoning whatever energy she had left, Y/n uncomfortably shifted to sit up, her hair a mess and her face still etched with exhaustion. She reached for the bag, pulling out the box of chicken and chips like it was gold.

“God fucking bless you,” she muttered, grabbing a chip and popping it into her mouth.

Yangyang smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “So…what happened?” he asked casually, but his tone was tinged with concern.

Y/n paused, her hand hovering over the box for another chip. “Dad and I went out for dinner last night,” she started, her voice bitter. “But he was being a dick the whole time, saying how I should be grateful and how he didn’t even want to be there.”

Yangyang’s expression darkened. “Your dad’s an asshole. Seriously, fuck him,” he said, reaching over to steal a chip from her box. “Is he at work?”

“Yeah…” Y/n said softly, chewing on another fry. “So, after that disaster of a dinner, I went out.”

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Out where?”

“A bar. Just…needed to forget about it, I guess,” Y/n admitted, shrugging as if it was no big deal, though the memory made her chest tighten.

“That’s why you shouldn’t be doing that shit without me, anything could happen,” Yangyang said.

“Yeah, like making a complete fool of myself.” Y/n said.

“Oh no, what happened?” Yangyang asked.

“The poor bartender. I had a bunch of shots and started crying. Then he asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and I blurted out my daddy issues to him. And then vomited…” Y/n said.

Yangyang couldn't help but snicker a little. 

“Shut up,” Y/n kicked him. 

“Man, what a bad bartender though, serving you to the point of vomiting.” Yangyang said.

“No, no,” Y/n said, waving a hand. “It wasn’t him. It was the other bartender. Kept serving me when I clearly shouldn’t have been drinking anymore. He was really cool actually.”

“Cause he listened?” Yangyang Asked.

“Yeah, but…he also said a lot of encouraging things and…fuck, he drove me home,” Y/n just recalled.

“...Are you serious?” Yangyang asked.

“Yeah…oh my god, that poor man,” Y/n couldn't believe herself.

“He wasn't weird, was he?” Yangyang asked.

“No…he was an absolute fucking gentleman.” Y/n was looking into space.

Yangyang leaned back, crossing his arms. “Damn. Well, that’s good then. You’re lucky you had someone.”

“Maybe,” Y/n muttered, looking down at her food. “But I’m never going back to that bar again.”

Yangyang chuckled, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Probably a good idea. But hey, look at the bright side! At least you’ve got me to cure your hangover with food and moral support.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face. “Thanks, Yangyang. You’re alright.”

“Alright? Excuse me, I’m amazing,” he said with mock indignation, reaching over to steal another chip. “And don’t you forget it.”

Y/n shook her head, popping another chip into her mouth. 

“Just make sure not to drink without me next time, okay? You won’t always have a super nice bartender like that again,” Yangyang said, pointing at her with a chip.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” Y/n replied, waving her hand dismissively. “I still can’t believe how incredibly nice that man was…”

Yangyang tilted his head, urging her to keep talking.

“He…he actually listened to me. Like, all of it. And then he told me I deserved better,” Y/n said, her voice softening as she recalled the memory. 

“He even held me so I didn’t fall in my own vomit–Oh my god!” Her eyes widened in horror. “I vomited in front of him! I can never go back there again!” She buried her face in her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Yangyang burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “He deserves a damn trophy for that, not just tips!”

Y/n peeked out from behind her hands, her cheeks still flushed. “Seriously, though. Who does that? Like, he didn’t have to care that much.”

“He sounds like some kind of bartender superhero,” Yangyang teased, nudging her with his elbow. “Are you sure you didn’t dream the whole thing?”

Y/n ignored him, her gaze drifting as she stared into space. The events of the night before replayed in her mind. The way the bartender, Johnny, was it? had gone out of his way to keep her safe, listening to her as she cried like a broken record. And he wasn’t just nice, he was handsome. So incredibly handsome, even in her drunken haze, she’d noticed.

“Don’t start going loopy on me!” Yangyang said, snapping his fingers in front of her face and giving her a light shake.

“I’m not going loopy!” Y/n snapped back, shoving him playfully. “I just…I guess I didn’t expect someone to be that kind, you know?”

“Well, enjoy the memory,” Yangyang said with a grin. “But remember, the next time you cry to a stranger, I’m the one who’s supposed to be there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n muttered, but a small smile tugged at her lips. Even though she’d sworn never to return to that bar, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see the kind stranger again.

-

Not even a week later, Y/n found herself back at the same bar she had sworn to avoid. After the humiliation of that night, she never intended to return, but life had other plans. A heated argument with her dad over something stupid, like not remembering the shit-ass instructions he’d given her for a chore, had driven her out of the house. She couldn’t bear to stay under the same roof with him, not while his anger still hung in the air like a storm cloud.

The bar was busier this time, which made sense, it was a Friday night, and the place was alive with chatter and the clinking of glasses. Y/n weaved through the crowd, her emotions raw and unfiltered. Reaching the bar, she didn’t bother to check the menu. 

“Two jugs of whatever you’ve got,” she told the bartender, her voice clipped.

The man behind the bar was the other bartender from the previous night, the one who had let her spiral. Y/n recognized him immediately. Despite her mixed feelings, she knew he’d get the job done, and tonight she didn’t care about much else. 

She grabbed her drinks and a clean shot glass and headed for a secluded booth in the corner, where she could wallow in peace.

Sliding into the seat, she set the jugs down and poured herself a shot. The amber liquid gleamed under the dim lights as she stared at it for a moment, her thoughts swirling. With a sigh, she downed the shot in one go, wincing as it burned its way down her throat.

Y/n poured another, her hands steady despite the whirlwind in her chest. She didn’t want to think about her dad, about his sharp words and how they always seemed to cut deeper than she’d like to admit. She didn’t want to think about anything at all.

Instead, she focused on the shot glass, the way the liquid filled it perfectly, the way it gleamed, though she knew better than to expect anything good from alcohol. As she tipped back her second shot.

-

Johnny showed up to work at 7, exactly on the dot. His shift had started, and he wasted no time getting behind the bar, washing his hands and preparing for the night ahead. The sound of glasses and hum of conversation filled the air, but his focus was on the routine, until his coworker spoke up.

“Hey, the girl from the other night’s back…”

Johnny froze for a split second. “What?” His voice was low, and though he shouldn’t have reacted so quickly, he knew exactly who his coworker was talking about.

“In the corner,” his coworker nodded toward the far side of the bar, where the booths sat in shadow. “Looks like she's having another go at it.”

Johnny wiped his hands on a towel and stepped out from behind the bar. He didn’t have a plan as he made his way across the room, weaving through the patrons. All he knew was that he needed to check on her.

The girl was there, just as his coworker had said, slumped forward, her elbows resting on the table, her face barely visible in the dim light. She looked the same, but something in the way she sat, so still and alone, hit Johnny harder than he expected.

He hesitated for a moment, standing in the middle of the bar, but then he exhaled, bracing himself. There was no going back now. Without another glance toward the counter, he walked over to her, his mind torn between wanting to offer help and not overstepping the boundaries of a stranger’s night.

When he finally reached her table, he paused, just for a second, before speaking.

"You back again?" His voice was softer than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that made him feel protective, even though he barely knew her.

The look she gave him nearly shattered Johnny’s heart. Her red, watery eyes and the quiet sorrow etched into her face were too much to ignore.

“Mind if I sit?” Johnny asked gently, keeping his voice low to avoid adding to her obvious discomfort.

She sniffled, her gaze falling back to the table. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “Go for it.”

Sliding into the booth across from her, Johnny rested his arms on the table and leaned in slightly. “Want to talk about it?” he asked, his tone hesitant but genuine.

Y/n shook her head, barely meeting his gaze. “I shouldn’t bother you.”

Johnny sighed, leaning back in his seat. “You’re not a bother. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”

“But I do,” Y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And drinking’s not going to fix it,” Johnny said, his tone firm. “We both know how that turned out the other night.”

Her lips twitched into a fleeting, humorless smile as she glanced at him, but the weight of her emotions quickly pulled her gaze away. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him for long, especially not with her tear-streaked face. It was humiliating enough to be caught in this state, let alone by someone as handsome as him.

Johnny leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her. “Look, I’m not here to lecture you. I just...I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/n swallowed hard, still avoiding his eyes. “Why do you care?”

He hesitated, then answered honestly, “Because someone should. And it seems like not enough people do.”

Those words caught her off guard, and for a moment, the tightness in her chest loosened. She risked another glance at him, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made her cry all over again.

“You clearly need someone,” Johnny said, his voice steady yet compassionate. “I don’t doubt you have friends, but it feels like there’s something missing in your life right now. I’m guessing it has something to do with your dad.”

Y/n blinked, startled by how bluntly he’d addressed the issue. She wasn’t sure if it was his confidence or his calm demeanor, but his directness didn’t feel invasive, it felt...honest.

“I’m not asking for your life story,” Johnny continued, leaning back slightly to give her space. “But if you’re comfortable, I’m here. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

His words hung in the air, offering an openness she wasn’t used to. Y/n hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “Why would you even want to listen to me? I’m just some random drunk girl who ruined your night the other day.”

Johnny chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You didn’t ruin anything. And you’re not just some random girl. You’re a person who’s clearly going through a lot. If I can help, even just by listening, then why wouldn’t I?”

Y/n stared at the napkin for a moment longer before taking a deep breath. “Yeah…It’s my dad,” she admitted quietly. “He’s...impossible to please. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. And he doesn’t even try to hide how much he resents me.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she clenched her jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay. Johnny’s expression softened, his eyes filled with an empathy that made her chest ache.

“You don’t deserve that,” Johnny said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You deserve a parent that cares about you.”

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” Johnny admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And it doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

For the first time in a long while, Y/n felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but sitting across from someone who seemed to care, even a little, made her feel less like she was drowning.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his gaze steady. “So...what brought you here tonight?”

Y/n let out a dry, bitter laugh. “It’s so stupid.”

“Doesn’t seem stupid if it’s got you feeling this way,” Johnny replied, his tone gentle but firm.

She sighed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “He asked me to clean the bathroom if I had time, so I did. I was almost finished when he got home…I thought maybe he’d say thank you or something...but instead, he yelled at me for using the wrong disinfectant.”

Her voice wavered as her eyes filled with tears, the memory cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. “I didn’t think it would be a problem. I used the one I always used…the one I would see my Mum use.” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked down, embarrassed by the emotion bubbling up.

Johnny shook his head, his expression darkening with quiet disapproval. “That’s not on you. You did what he asked, and he shouldn’t be yelling at you over something so small.”

Y/n already knew that, but hearing it from someone else, a stranger, even, felt oddly validating. “I guess,” she murmured, wiping at her eyes. “But it’s just...always like this. No matter what I do, it’s never right.”

Johnny tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. “That’s not fair to you. You don’t deserve to feel like this. Like nothing you do matters.”

She bit her lip, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “It’s hard to explain. I just…I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells with him. Trying not to mess up. And when I do, it’s like...it’s the end of the world to him.”

Johnny’s voice softened, a warmth in his tone that caught her off guard. “That’s not your burden to carry, Y/n. Parents are supposed to guide you, not tear you down over things that don’t even matter.”

His words struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a small sense of relief. Yeah, she told this kind of thing to Yangyang all the time, but it was just different this time. 

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I’m dumping all of this on you.”

“Because you needed to,” Johnny said simply, offering her a small smile. “And honestly? I’m glad you did. You deserve to be heard.”

Y/n met his gaze, and for a moment, the weight of her father’s criticism felt just a little lighter. “You’re a lot nicer than you need to be, you know that?”

Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Maybe. But sometimes, people just need someone to remind them that they matter.”

Y/n leaned back in her seat, trying to take a deep breath and compose herself. She sniffled lightly and rubbed her hands over her cheeks, as if wiping away the lingering traces of her tears could also erase the heaviness in her chest. 

“God, I must look like such a mess right now,” she muttered with a weak laugh.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he chuckled softly. “You’re fine. Trust me, I’ve seen much worse at this bar. You’re nowhere near the top of the ‘messiest customer’ list.”

Y/n gave him a small smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Gee, that makes me feel better.”

“I’m just saying,” Johnny said, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The corners of her mouth lifted just a little more, and she sighed, a faint air of relief settling over her. “I guess I should try to, like...relax or something. Let the night go.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Johnny said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re here now, may as well try to enjoy the moment.”

They fell into an easier rhythm, Johnny steering the conversation to lighter topics, a funny story about a drunken regular, a joke about the bar’s overly long drink names. Y/n found herself laughing despite everything, the tension in her shoulders easing bit by bit.

-

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Y/n glanced at the clock, realising how late it had gotten. She let out a small sigh, the weight of the day finally starting to catch up to her. 

“Guess I should head off,” she murmured, standing up and gathering her things.

Johnny noticed and immediately stood up as well. “Need a ride?” he asked, his tone casual.

Y/n shook her head with a smile. “Nah, I’m good tonight. I’m gonna message my friend to pick me up.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Well, I’ll wait with you until they get here.”

She looked at him, surprised by his willingness to stay. “You don’t have to, but thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” Johnny said with a grin, before he leaned back against the booth and folded his arms casually. “Besides, you’re not alone here anymore. I’m happy to keep you company for a bit longer.”

Y/n smiled, feeling a warm gratitude welling up inside her. “Thanks, Johnny. I really do appreciate everything you did for me the other night. I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly, and I...I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

Johnny chuckled softly. “No need to thank me. It’s just what anyone would do.”

“But still,” Y/n insisted, her voice quieter now. “You went out of your way to make sure I was okay. That’s more than just being a ‘good bartender.’”

She paused, suddenly realising something. “Wait a minute...I never even told you my name.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Shit!” Y/n gave a sheepish laugh. “Guess I got caught up in everything...I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Y/n,” Johnny said with a friendly grin, then gestured to the name tag on his chest. “I’m guessing that makes me Johnny.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Y/n said with a soft laugh, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little more. She paused, then looked up at him. “Hey, I just...I really want to thank you for being there for me, Johnny. For listening. For everything.”

Johnny’s smile softened as he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. But, listen, if you ever need someone to talk to again, I’m here every Monday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Same hours. Same bar. You’ve got someone to listen, anytime.”

Y/n studied him, her brow furrowing slightly. There was something about the way he said it, so easy, so genuine, that made her pause. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was a depth in his words that felt like he was offering more than just a listening ear. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed something in his tone, a quiet kind of care he didn’t seem to show to just anyone.

But she chose not to ask. Instead, she gave him a soft, grateful smile. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded, his grin returning. “Anytime, Y/n. Seriously. Don’t hesitate, alright?”

As Johnny stood with her, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of comfort. She wasn’t entirely sure why Johnny cared so much, but for tonight, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

And that was enough.

The moment the door to the bar swung open, Y/n looked up and saw Yangyang storming in, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. He was exactly on time.

Yangyang’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto her in the corner. His brows furrowed when he saw her, still standing with Johnny. Without another word, he made a beeline for her, pushing through the crowd of people as if they were obstacles in his way.

“Let’s go,” Yangyang said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he reached the booth.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t even had time to properly say goodbye to Johnny before Yangyang was already tugging at her arm, pulling her to her feet. Johnny looked up at the sudden movement, his smile still soft, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes as Y/n scrambled to gather her things.

“Yangyang!” she started, turning back to Johnny with a quick wave. “Thanks again, really...I’ll–”

“Come on, Y/n,” Yangyang interrupted, his grip tightening on her arm as he pulled her toward the door. His tone softened slightly, but his worry was still evident. “Let’s go. I’m not leaving you here with...whoever,” he added, glancing at Johnny.

Y/n barely had time to give Johnny another smile, her mind too scrambled to say much more than, “Sorry, I...I’ll see you later.”

Before Johnny could respond, Yangyang was already dragging her outside, his steps quick and forceful as he moved toward the car parked at the curb. Y/n could barely keep up, still lost in the warm afterglow of the conversation with Johnny. She felt guilty, but Yangyang wasn’t giving her a moment to explain herself.

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” Yangyang huffed as they reached the car. “You said you’d never go back or drink without me, and you’re just sitting there with some random guy?”

Y/n let out a deep sigh as the car hummed steadily down the street. She glanced over at Yangyang, trying to gather her thoughts after the whirlwind of emotions she’d just experienced at the bar.

Y/n winced, “The guy I was talking to at the bar the other night...that was him. The bartender, Johnny.”

Yangyang’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and Y/n noticed the way his jaw clenched. 

“You were talking to him again?” His voice was tight, his concern clear but mixed with a hint of frustration.

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, looking out the window. “He’s...he’s actually really nice. I don’t know, I just...I needed someone to listen to me, Yangyang. And he did. It was good.”

Yangyang shook his head, his tone firm. “Y/n, you can’t just be confiding in some random man like that. I don’t care how nice he seems, he’s still a strange man. You can’t trust him so easily, no matter how much he listens.”

Y/n frowned, her thoughts spinning. “But...I don’t think he’s like that. He’s not just some random guy. He’s a very nice man.”

Yangyang glanced at her, his eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Very nice man? Y/n, older guys like that don’t just give a shit about you. They have their own reasons for pretending to care. It’s not like he’s gonna take on the role of some personal therapist just for fun. You can’t let that happen.”

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine at his words, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn’t considered it that way, but Yangyang’s perspective was making her second-guess her own. Was she being naive? Was she trusting him too easily?

Before she could voice her doubts, Yangyang spoke again, his voice lower, more intense. “And you weren’t supposed to be drinking without me either. You know that’s dangerous. I told you I’d be there if you needed to talk, if you needed to unwind, but not like this. You could have really hurt yourself, Y/n.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Y/n could feel the sting of guilt creeping in. She hadn’t thought about how reckless she’d been, too caught up in the moment and the comfort Johnny had provided. Yangyang was right, he had warned her, and she had ignored it.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice small. “I didn’t mean to make you worry like that.”

Yangyang softened, glancing at her with a hint of exasperation but also something else, care. “I’m not mad, Y/n. I just want you to be safe. You don’t need to be doing stuff like that, especially not when you’ve got people who care about you, people like me.”

Y/n didn’t respond immediately, her mind still processing everything. She didn’t want to admit it, but Yangyang’s words made sense. She couldn’t just go around opening up to every man who listened. Not all of them had good intentions.

“I know, Yangyang,” she said finally, her voice more resigned now. “I’ll be more careful next time. I just...I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like I’m drowning, and when someone actually listens, it’s...it’s a relief.”

Yangyang exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. I really do. But you don’t have to be drowning, Y/n. Come to me, yeah?”

Y/n nodded, feeling a little lighter but still conflicted. She appreciated Yangyang’s concern, but part of her couldn’t shake the connection she’d felt with Johnny, the way he had listened without judgment.

But for now, all she could do was trust Yangyang.

As the car rolled through the quiet streets, Y/n sat in silence for a few moments, her thoughts swirling around like a storm in her mind. The weight of the night was still pressing down on her, and the thought of returning to the tenseness of her house felt unbearable. She couldn't go back to that place, not tonight, not after everything that had happened.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yangyang...can I come to your place tonight?”

Yangyang glanced at her, surprise flickering in his eyes before it softened. “You don’t want to go home?” he asked gently.

Y/n shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “No. I...I can’t go back there. It feels like everything’s just too much.”

He nodded, his expression softening as he slowed the car down. “Of course, you can stay with me. I’m not going to let you be go there if you’re not ready for that.”

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease a little. “Thank you, Yangyang,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “I just...I don’t want to deal with it right now. I just want to be somewhere I feel safe.”

“You’re always safe with me,” Yangyang replied, his voice steady and reassuring. He reached over and squeezed her hand for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Y/n nodded, her chest tightening but also loosening at the same time. She was grateful for him, for his care, for being someone she could lean on when everything felt like too much. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The drive felt shorter than it was, and soon enough they were pulling up to his place. Yangyang’s place was a two-story flat he shared with a couple of other people, though Y/n only really hung out with them at parties. Never had time to talk with them properly, usually heading straight to Yangyang’s room, just like now.

As Yangyang parked the car, he turned to her with a small smile. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You can rest, and we’ll figure everything out tomorrow, alright?”

Y/n gave him a soft smile back, as they made their way to his room.

As Y/n lay on the bed at Yangyang's place later that night, her mind wandered back to the bar. She knew she shouldn't have gone back. There was something about the bartender, Johnny, that had pulled her in. It was almost magnetic, like an invisible thread tying her to him, and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she couldn’t escape it.

What made it even more complicated was how he made her feel. He didn’t look at her like she was a burden, like she was just another person to deal with. Johnny treated her with a kind of maturity, respect, and care that she hadn’t known in a long time.

It was in the way he listened without judgment, how he noticed the small things that everyone else overlooked, like the subtle tremor in her voice or the way her eyes would wander when the silence stretched too long. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her to talk, but when she did, he made her feel like her words mattered.

It stood in such sharp contrast to the way her father treated her, the way he always seemed so distant, so preoccupied, never really seeing her, never really hearing her. Y/n had spent so much time trying to please him, trying to earn a sliver of his attention, but nothing ever worked. No matter how hard she tried, there was always something wrong. 

Tonight, after the argument, she'd felt it again, the suffocating loneliness of it, the emptiness that came with his neglect. But Johnny...Johnny made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in years. It was as if he could sense the pain beneath her exterior, and instead of turning away, he leaned in, offering her a space to just be. No one had done that for her, not in a long time.

And she knew it was dangerous to let herself get attached to that. She barely knew him. Their interactions were brief, and yet there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his smile reached his eyes, that made her heart do strange things. 

He wasn’t just some random guy, but a man who had his own life, his own set of experiences. He wasn’t supposed to be her safe space, not really. But in those moments they shared, when he looked at her with that quiet understanding, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

Y/n closed her eyes, her thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions. She shouldn't let herself get too caught up in this. She couldn’t. But the way he listened, the way he cared, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she was worthy of being seen. It was something she didn’t even know she craved until it was given to her.

The feelings she had were complicated, tangled with guilt and hope, but in that moment, with the soft hum of Yangyang’s home around her, Y/n allowed herself to believe for a second that she might deserve this kind of kindness. Just for tonight, she could rest in the warmth of it, before the world outside reminded her of everything else she had to face.

-

The next day, Y/n found herself standing in front of the bar once again. It was a little after 7, and the familiar sound of activity inside felt different this time. Her heart was racing a little, nerves creeping up in the back of her mind. She had told herself that she shouldn’t come back, that it was probably a bad idea to get involved in something she didn’t fully understand. 

But something about it, about him, kept pulling her in.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The bar was just as lively as it had been the night before, but this time, Y/n’s focus was entirely on the bartender. She could see Johnny behind the counter, effortlessly moving between serving customers, his posture relaxed but efficient. She took a moment to watch him as he worked, the way he interacted with people, his warm smile never faltering.

A little self-conscious, Y/n made her way up to the bar, her footsteps steady but uncertain. She took a seat on one of the stools, smoothing down the hem of her jacket as she settled in, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.

Johnny’s gaze lifted from the drink he was preparing, his eyes locking with hers for just a moment before he gave her a small, surprised smile. His expression softened, and he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder before walking over to her.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted her, his voice warm and genuine.

Y/n gave a slight nod, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, sorry. I figured I’d come by again.”

Johnny chuckled lightly, leaning against the bar with an easy familiarity. “You don’t have to apologize for showing up, you know. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Y/n’s nerves eased a little at his words, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling the weight of her decision settle in. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter this time.

“So,” Johnny began, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “What can I get you tonight? Hopefully not the usual?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Actually, I think I’ll just have fizzy tonight.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, amused. “Soda? Wow, a change of pace.” He paused, giving her a knowing smile. “I guess I’ll take that as a sign you’re taking it easy tonight.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly, her tension slowly melting away as she felt more at ease. “Yeah, probably for the best.”

Johnny nodded and grabbed a clean glass, filling it with water before sliding it in front of her. "So, what brings you back this time? Everything okay?"

Y/n looked up at him, the faintest hint of hesitation in her gaze before she spoke. "I just wanted to thank you properly...for last night…and Monday night. I didn’t really get the chance to, and I felt like I should."

Johnny's smile softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you had someone to talk to. Sometimes that’s all we really need.”

For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade away, and Y/n felt a brief but genuine connection with him. It was strange, how in just a few brief conversations, he had become someone she could turn to when everything else felt uncertain.

"Well," Y/n said, feeling a little bolder, "I’m glad I came back."

Johnny met her eyes, his gaze steady and warm. “Me too.”

Johnny returned to the bar, grabbing a dry lemonade from the shelf before placing it in front of Y/n with a smile. "Here you go. Something a little sweeter this time, right?" he said, his tone light and friendly.

Y/n took the glass, offering him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Johnny."

He nodded, his eyes briefly meeting hers before turning his attention to another customer at the end of the bar. 

"I’ll be right with you," he said before walking off to take their order, leaving Y/n to relax with her drink.

The moment was short-lived, however. As she sipped the lemonade, she felt someone standing beside her at the bar. She looked up to see a man, probably in his late twenties, leaning against the counter, an easy smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth but with an edge that made Y/n feel uneasy. "I saw you take a seat here just now. Mind if I ask your name?"

Y/n's smile faltered, a slight unease creeping up her spine. She didn't feel comfortable with this sudden attention, especially from someone she didn't know. 

She quickly tried to deflect, tapping her fingers nervously against her glass. "Uh, I’m just here to relax. I’m not really looking to talk."

The man didn't seem to take the hint, though, stepping closer and continuing, “Oh come on, just a name? You from ‘round here?”

Y/n’s discomfort deepened as he pressed, crossing a line she wasn't ready to let him cross. She opened her mouth to decline again, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

Johnny returned, wiping his hands on a rag and noticing the man standing too close to Y/n. Without missing a beat, he placed a hand on the counter, leaning in toward the guy.

“The little lady doesn’t want to talk to you,” Johnny said, his tone calm but firm, eyes cool as he sized up the man.

The stranger seemed to hesitate, taken aback by Johnny's sudden intervention. He gave Y/n a lingering look before backing off, muttering something under his breath as he walked away.

Y/n glanced at Johnny, her relief clear in her expression. "Thanks," she said softly, her voice still a little shaky.

Johnny gave her a small, reassuring smile, his posture relaxed. "No problem. You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that," he said, before turning to handle another customer.

As Johnny walked away, Y/n found her gaze lingering on him, her thoughts a jumble of confusion and warmth. She’d never had a guy, other than Yangyang, stand up for her like that. There was something so effortless about the way Johnny had handled the situation, like it wasn’t even a question that he’d step in to help her.

Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Feeling this way over something so simple, a few words, a protective gesture. But it wasn’t just the act itself, it was the way he’d done it. Calm, confident, and with an underlying care that felt genuine. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to have someone like Johnny in her corner, someone who didn’t just look out for her because they felt obligated, but because they wanted to.

Y/n shook her head slightly, trying to push the thought away, but the faint warmth in her chest remained.

Her heart shouldn’t be reacting like this, not to someone she barely knew. Yet there it was, betraying her with every quickened beat.

Johnny returned a few moments later, leaning casually against the bar. His easy smile was back, directed right at her, making her heart flutter.

“So,” he began, his tone light and conversational, “get up to much today?”

The question caught Y/n off guard. It had been a while since someone had shown genuine interest in her day. 

“Nah, not much,” she replied with a small shrug. “Just lectures and stuff.”

“Oh, studying, are you? What courses?” Johnny asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly in interest.

“Biochem and Stats,” Y/n said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Johnny let out a low whistle. “Impressive. And you actually enjoy that?”

Y/n laughed, the sound breaking through the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying. “Not always,” she admitted, “but I’m pretty good at it.”

Johnny chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill the space between them. “Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to like it, huh? I get that. But hey, Biochem and Stats? Sounds like you’ve got some serious brains.”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush slightly at the compliment, her smile turning shy. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Johnny tilted his head, giving her a playful, skeptical look. “Oh, I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re selling yourself short.”

Their conversation was interrupted briefly as Johnny reached over to grab a glass, ready to serve another customer. But even as he worked, Y/n noticed how his attention never fully left her, as if he was genuinely invested in their small talk. For the first time in a long while, she felt seen, and it was both unsettling and comforting all at once.

-

The night had quieted, the earlier buzz fading into a mellow hum. The bar was never completely still, but this was as close to peace as it got. Johnny leaned against the counter, his arms crossed casually as he listened to Y/n talk about one of her professors and other people with her lectures. She animated her stories with gestures, her earlier shyness fading as the minutes passed.

Johnny couldn’t help but smile as he watched her. He knew why she’d come back tonight. She hadn’t said it outright, but it was written all over her. She needed someone to talk to. 

Someone who wouldn’t dismiss her feelings or turn her vulnerability into a weapon. Johnny was more than okay with being that person.

She was young, still figuring out who she was and how to navigate the parts of life that felt heavier than they should. Her strained relationship with her dad had left a gap in her life, the kind that only someone older, someone steady, could help fill. 

She wasn’t looking for pity or solutions, she just needed someone to listen. Someone to treat her like her thoughts mattered.

He glanced at her as she laughed softly at something she’d said, her guard down in a way that felt rare. Johnny’s chest tightened with a protective instinct he hadn’t expected. 

He’d seen people like her before, people who carried too much for their age, who needed a safe place to land, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t see her as a problem to solve or a burden to bear. She was just...someone who needed a little light, and he didn’t mind being that for her.

Johnny glanced at the clock on the wall, noting how the hours had slipped by. The bar had quieted even further, and the streetlights outside cast soft halos against the darkened windows. He turned back to Y/n, his expression softer now.

“It’s getting late,” he said gently. “You should think about heading home.”

Y/n blinked, the words pulling her out of their conversation. She glanced down at her phone, realizing how much time had passed. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, slipping her bag over her shoulder as she stood up.

As she pushed her stool back, Johnny’s voice stopped her. “You gonna call your friend again to come pick you up?”

She hesitated, her hand tightening slightly on the strap of her bag. “Um, no...not this time,” she admitted, her tone quieter now. “Yangyang didn’t really want me coming back here, so it’s probably best if I just walk home.”

Johnny frowned at that, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the bar. “Walk? At this hour?” He shook his head. “Mhmm, I don’t know, it’s a bit too late, don’t you think?”

Y/n shrugged, offering him a small, half-hearted smile. “It’s not a long walk, I’ll be fine.”

Johnny didn’t budge. “How about this…you hang out here for another hour while I finish up, and I’ll drive you home.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You’d...drive me home?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s late, and I’d rather know you got home safe.”

Y/n stood there, her mind racing. She barely knew him, they’d talked a lot in the hours which she was in the bar, but this was...unexpected. Still, the thought of walking home alone in the dark didn’t seem so appealing now, and something about the sincerity in his voice made her feel like she could trust him, especially considering how he drove her home the other night.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice almost cautious. “I don’t want to be a pain or anything.”

Johnny waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m not letting you walk home this late. So, sit back down and relax for a bit.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay...thank you, Johnny. Really.”

He returned her smile with an easy one of his own, nodding toward the stool she’d just left. “No problem.”

Y/n slid back onto the stool, her heart racing for reasons she didn’t entirely understand. Johnny turned back to the bar, tending to the few remaining customers, but she couldn’t stop glancing at him, still stunned by his offer. It wasn’t every day someone went out of their way for her like this, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But for now, she was grateful.

-

As the hour ticked by, the bar emptied out, leaving only a couple of stragglers with their drinks in quiet corners. Johnny moved with practiced ease, wiping down the counter, stacking glasses, and tidying up behind the bar. His movements were efficient, but he didn’t rush, taking the time to nod politely to the last few patrons as they gathered their things and headed out into the night.

Y/n stayed seated, watching him work. The way he moved, so steady and calm, made her feel oddly at ease despite the situation. He caught her looking a couple of times and threw her a casual grin, making her cheeks warm as she glanced away.

Finally, Johnny flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’, locking it behind the last customer. He turned back to Y/n, brushing his hands off on a bar towel as he approached.

“Well, that’s it for tonight,” he said, setting the towel down. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, standing and adjusting her bag. “Yeah, thanks for taking me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the hook behind the counter. “Let me just grab my keys, and we’ll head out.”

Y/n waited by the bar as Johnny disappeared into the back for a moment. When he returned, keys jingling in his hand, he gestured toward the door.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he said, his tone warm but firm.

Y/n followed him out, stepping into the cool night air. The streets were quiet now, and the soft hum of the city lights felt almost serene. Johnny walked beside her to the small parking lot behind the bar, where an old but well-kept honda civic waited.

“Not exactly a luxury ride,” he joked as he unlocked the passenger door, holding it open for her. “But it’ll get you there.”

Y/n slid into the seat, her heart fluttering slightly at his gesture. “It got me home last time, I’m sure it’s perfect this time. Thank you.”

Johnny rounded the car and got in, starting the engine with a low rumble. As they pulled out onto the empty street, a sense of comfort ran through her.

“I’m surprised you remembered anything from last time. You were wasted!” Johnny said with a laugh, his voice light and teasing.

Y/n groaned, immediately covering her face with her hands. “God, don’t remind me! That was so embarrassing! I’m so sorry you had to deal with me while I was drunk.”

Johnny leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an amused grin. “Ah, don’t feel too bad. At least you had the decency to vomit in a gutter instead of the bar floor.”

“Mortifying,” Y/n muttered, peeking at him through her fingers. “But sure, go ahead, keep laughing at my misery.”

“Oh, I will,” Johnny replied, his laughter bubbling up again.

Y/n couldn’t help but glance at him as he laughed, the sound warm and genuine. The way his cheeks lifted, the faint lines around his eyes deepening as they crinkled with amusement, it was mesmerizing. Johnny was beautiful, in a way she hadn’t fully registered until now.

His laughter softened, and he tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. “You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone’s had a rough night now and then. You handled it better than most.”

“Better than most?” Y/n asked skeptically, lowering her hands.

“Trust me,” Johnny said, his grin widening, “I’ve seen it all. You’re far from the worst.”

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Well, that’s...somewhat comforting.”

“Glad to help,” Johnny said with a mock bow of his head, making her laugh this time.

Y/n tilted her head, as she leaned slightly towards Johnny. “Do you often drive patrons home…like you did with me?”

Johnny smirked, shaking his head. “Not a chance.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, really? You drove me home.”

Johnny shrugged casually, his hands on the wheel. “Let’s just say you didn’t strike me as someone who’d regularly find themselves in that kind of situation. And you looked...lost. Like you needed someone to step in.”

Y/n blinked, his words catching her off guard. “Oh. Well, I guess you were right,” she admitted quietly, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve.

Johnny looked over to her briefly before looking back on the road. “I’ve been bartending long enough to know the difference between someone who’s just drinking for the fuck of it and someone who’s looking for escape. You seemed like the latter.”

Her throat tightened slightly, and she gave a small nod. “Yeah...I guess I was.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Johnny added, his tone lightening. “Most of the time, my job ends at making drinks and cutting people off when they’ve had enough. But with you? I don’t know. I just felt you needed the help.”

Y/n bit her lip, unsure how to respond to that. She glanced at him, searching his expression for any hint of an ulterior motive, but all she saw was sincerity.

“That’s...really kind of you,” she said softly, offering him a faint smile.

Johnny chuckled. “Don’t give me too much credit. It’s not like I’m some saint. I just figured someone should make sure you got home safe.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at his humility, shaking her head. “Well, thanks. I guess I’m lucky you were the one working that night.”

Johnny tilted his head with a smirk. “Yeah, you are. And don’t forget it.”

Johnny's car came to a smooth stop outside Y/n’s house, the soft hum of the engine fading as he shifted into park. She stared out the window at the familiar house, her heart sinking slightly. She didn’t want to leave, not yet.

The warmth of Johnny’s presence beside her in the car, the comfort of his easy conversation, and the strange sense of safety she felt, it was all so different from what was inside the house, waiting for her.

She sighed, her hand hesitating on the door handle. “Well...thanks for the ride,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Anytime,” Johnny replied.

Y/n was just about to push the door open when Johnny’s voice stopped her. “Hold on a second.”

She turned back to him, surprised, as he reached up and pulled a pen from the overhead sunshade. Her heart skipped as he gently took her hand in his, his touch warm.

Johnny didn’t say anything as he leaned over slightly, his focus entirely on her hand as he wrote something carefully on her skin. Y/n’s mind blanked, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers lightly brushing against her palm.

It wasn’t until he let her go and she glanced down that she realized what he had done. His number was scrawled neatly across her hand, the ink stark against her skin.

Her eyes darted back to him, wide with surprise.

Johnny leaned back, his expression calm but unreadable. “If you ever need to talk…or a ride! Just call. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

Y/n’s lips parted, but no words came out. The gesture was so unexpected, so simple, yet it felt like the most special thing anyone had done for her in a long time.

“Thanks,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny gave her a small smile, his hand resting casually on the steering wheel. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

She nodded, still stunned by the action. “I will. Thanks again, Johnny.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said, his voice low.

With that, Y/n pushed the door open and stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She glanced back once as Johnny gave her a small wave before driving off, the tail lights of his car disappearing into the distance. 

-

Y/n had been replaying that interaction with Johnny in her mind for a week now, yet the thought of actually using his number still made her stomach twist in knots.

The very night she got home, she had saved his number to her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed it in. But every time she thought about texting him, her nerves got the better of her. 

Would she come across as pushy? Annoying? What if he regretted giving her his number?

But, God, did she want to message him.

Her thoughts distracted her as she walked down the street. She was on her way to a café where her dad had promised to meet her. She adjusted the strap of her bag, trying to push Johnny out of her mind.

Entering the café, she offered a polite smile to the staff behind the counter before finding a small table near the window. Sliding into the chair, she leaned back, checking the time. She was about three minutes early, but that was fine. Her dad would probably walk through the door any second now.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Ten minutes passed. Y/n’s gaze flicked back to her phone. No texts. No calls. Nothing. She sighed, her fingers drumming on the table as frustration and disappointment started to bubble up.

Finally, she decided to call him. She stared at her screen for a moment before hitting the button, holding the phone to her ear as the line rang.

“Hey, Bub,” her dad answered, his tone casual.

“Where are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, fuck!” her dad cursed on the other end of the line. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry, Bub. I can’t make it today.”

Her heart sank, though she couldn’t say she was surprised. Disappointed? Always. But surprised? Never.

“Oh, okay,” she said softly, gripping her phone a little tighter.

“I can send you some money to get yourself something if you’d like,” he offered, as if that could somehow make up for standing her up.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, her voice quieter now. “See you at home.”

“Alright, see ya. Bye.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Y/n lowered her phone slowly, staring at the screen as if it might somehow offer her the explanation or comfort her dad couldn’t. She sat there for a moment, her appetite gone and her mood sinking further.

Her fingers hovered over her contacts list. For a fleeting moment, she thought about calling Johnny. She hadn’t used his number yet, but maybe now was the time. 

What if he was busy? What if he didn’t really mean for her to call? 

The anxiety crept in again, but so did the urge to feel even a fraction of the comfort he’d given her that night in the car.

She stared at his name on the screen, her finger hesitating over the call button. Should I?

Fuck it.

With a deep breath, Y/n hit the call button on Johnny's contact and held the phone to her ear. Her heart raced with every passing second, her pulse thudding louder as the ringing began.

“Hello?” Johnny's familiar voice came through, smooth and warm.

“Hey, it’s Y/n,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Y/n!” His tone instantly brightened, cheerful and welcoming. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you. What’s up?”

“I was supposed to have lunch with my dad, but...he kinda stood me up,” she admitted softly.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe reassurance, maybe just someone to make her feel like she mattered, but she knew Johnny’s words would be the comfort she needed.

“Shit,” Johnny said, his voice filled with concern. “Where are you right now?”

“Bristo,” Y/n replied, glancing at the bustling street outside the cafe.

“Alright, give me a minute. I’ll come to you,” Johnny said without hesitation.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” she said quickly, guilt creeping in. “I don’t even know why I called you...”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in five,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Before she could protest again, she heard the soft click of the line disconnecting. Y/n stared at her phone, equal parts relieved and surprised. She couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips, Johnny always seemed to know exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t.

True to his word, Johnny arrived. Y/n spotted him the moment he stepped into the café, his tall frame impossible to miss. He paused just inside the door, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. A smile immediately lit up his face, one that sent a wave of warmth washing over her.

He strode over, pulling out the chair across from her and settling into it. “Hey,” he said, his tone light, as if he’d been meeting her here all along. “You okay?”

Y/n gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to.”

Johnny leaned back, giving her a look. “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t show up when someone needed me?” He glanced around the café briefly. “So, what’s good here?”

She smiled softly, relaxing a little. “I didn’t really look...I guess I wasn’t in the mood to eat by myself.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re not alone anymore.” Johnny picked up the menu, scanning it. “What do you think? Should we split something? Or are you more possessive over your food?”

Y/n laughed, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Depends on how good the food,” she teased.

Johnny smirked. “Fair enough. We’ll test that theory. Two coffees and an order of fries to share sound good?”

She nodded, feeling a little lighter already. “Can I have an iced chocolate?” 

“Of course, you can,” Johnny said with a warm smile, standing up and heading toward the counter to place their order.

Y/n watched him as he walked away, she couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he managed to brighten her day, how his presence seemed to fill the space around him with a quiet kind of assurance. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he showed up, it was the way he made her feel seen, like her bad day truly mattered to him. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like someone was actually in her corner.

Johnny returned to the table with a numbered stand, setting it down in the center before settling back into his chair. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table as his gaze softened.

“So,” he started, his tone gentle, “how’re you feeling? I mean…about your dad and all.”

Y/n let out a small sigh, her fingers tracing patterns on the edge of the table as she avoided his eyes. “I don’t know… It’s not the first time he’s bailed on me. I guess I wasn’t really surprised.”

Johnny nodded, his expression empathetic. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, though.”

“Yeah,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just…I keep hoping, you know? Like maybe one day he’ll actually show up, maybe he’ll prove me wrong. But he never does.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened for a moment, the flicker of frustration on her behalf evident. “You deserve better than that,” he said firmly. “You shouldn’t have to keep waiting for scraps of attention.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She glanced up at him, her throat tightening. “It’s just…hard to give up on him. He’s my dad.”

“I get that,” Johnny replied, his voice steady. “But sometimes, people don’t give you what you need. Not because you’re asking for too much, but because they can’t. And that’s on them, not you.”

Y/n blinked, her chest tightening at the honesty in his tone. “You’re really good at this, you know,” she said softly, managing a small smile.

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know about that. I just know what it’s like to need someone to show up when it matters. And if he won’t, then I guess it’s a good thing you called me.”

Her smile grew just a little as warmth spread through her chest. 

The server arrived with their food, setting down a plate of crispy fries in the center of the table, followed by Johnny’s coffee and Y/n’s iced chocolate. The clink of the cup meeting the table seemed to break the tension, and for a moment, the two simply dug into the fries, letting the silence settle before continuing their conversation.

Johnny nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke again. "When did this all start, then? I mean, the whole thing with your dad."

Y/n sighed, picking up another fry and slowly chewing it, trying to find the right words. "It started when I moved in with him," she said quietly, her voice quieter than usual. "Before that, I used to live with my mom, and I’d just visit my dad on weekends or holidays. I didn’t think much of it. He was always...distant, but I thought it was because of the distance. But even after moving in, it was always off."

Johnny’s eyes softened as he listened, understanding in his gaze. He stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.

"But when my mom passed, I didn’t have a choice. I had to move in with him." She paused, running a finger along the edge of her iced chocolate cup. "I thought it would be fine. I figured, hey, he’s my dad. He’ll step up. But...the more time I spent with him, the more I realized how much...it wasn’t fine."

She swallowed hard, her chest tight at the memory. "I didn’t notice how strained our relationship was when I only saw him for a couple of days at a time. But living with him...living with him made me see everything I missed. I thought maybe it would change, you know? But it feels like he doesn’t care enough to try."

Johnny’s gaze was steady, his voice gentle. "I’m sorry, Y/n. That’s a heavy thing to go through, especially at your age. Losing your mom, then having to face a whole new kind of relationship with your dad."

"Yeah," she whispered, her fingers trembling slightly as she wrapped them around her cup. "I didn’t expect it to be this hard. I used to just brush it off, tell myself it was fine because I had my mom, and I only saw him for short periods of time. But now...I don’t know. It’s like everything’s coming down on me all at once. I thought maybe he’d change, but he never does."

Johnny leaned forward slightly, his tone soft but firm. "He should’ve stepped up when you needed him, but that’s on him, not you. You’re not the one at fault here, Y/n. You’re doing your best to deal with everything that’s been thrown at you."

Y/n looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a warmth there, a quiet reassurance that made her feel a little lighter. She took a deep breath, her chest aching, but somehow not as tightly as before.

"Thanks, Johnny. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. You probably didn’t want to hear about my messed-up family problems when we first met–outside the bar, I mean."

Johnny chuckled softly, the sound like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the heaviness. "Hey, everyone has their stuff, right? We all have our problems. But I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me about it. And don’t worry, it’s not a burden. If anything, it’s good to get it off your chest."

Y/n felt a little smile tug at the corners of her mouth, the weight in her chest easing just a bit more. "I appreciate it. Really."

Johnny smiled back, his eyes kind but steady. "Anytime, Y/n. Anytime."

After they finished their meal, Y/n and Johnny stood up from the table, ready to leave. Johnny paid for their food, even when Y/n tried to insist she could cover it. He just waved her off with a smile, saying it was his treat and that she could get the next one.

"You're stubborn," Y/n teased as they walked out of the cafe, the door chiming softly behind them.

Johnny just grinned, giving a shrug. "I know, but just means you’ll have to pay next time." He threw her a playful look.

Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. He wanted to hang out with her again. Y/n had to look down to hide the blush creeping up her face.

They walked side by side down the sidewalk for a moment, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Johnny’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

"So, what are you up to now?" he asked, glancing over at her with curiosity.

Y/n sighed, the events of the day weighing on her a little. "I’m just gonna head home. I only planned to have lunch with dad, nothing else."

Johnny nodded in understanding, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, that didn’t go as planned."

Y/n gave a small, wry smile. "That’s one way to put it."

After a beat, Johnny looked over at her with a suggestion. "Well, I don’t have any plans, and if you’re up for it, you could come hang out at my place for a bit. It’s probably better than sitting alone, right?"

There he goes again, making her heart beat like crazy. 

Y/n looked at him, surprised by the offer but a little relieved. "You sure?" she asked, hesitant at first.

"Yeah," Johnny said with a reassuring smile. "I mean, I’ve got nothing to do, and if you’re feeling like talking or just...you know, distracting yourself, my place is open. Plus, I can drive you home later, whenever you're ready."

Y/n didn’t even have to think about it for long. She felt surprisingly comfortable with Johnny, and after the weird day she’d had, spending some time with him felt like a good way to unwind.

"Okay," she said, her smile soft but grateful.  

They made their way to Johnny’s car, the drive going by smoothly. As Y/n leaned back in the passenger seat, Johnny glanced at her a few times, but didn’t say much, content to let the silence settle between them, only broken by the occasional hum of the car or the soft sound of the radio playing in the background.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Johnny’s apartment building, Y/n glanced up at the modest complex. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple, window-fronted building with a few balconies and potted plants by the entrance. Despite its plain exterior, there was something inviting about it, maybe it was Johnny’s presence, maybe it was his smile.

 Getting in the building, they took the elevator up. She was half-expecting Johnny to give her a formal, awkward tour of the place, but instead, he just nodded toward the door, indicating for her to enter.

The inside was just as she imagined, simple, a little cluttered but warm, with a lived-in vibe that made it feel instantly comfortable. A worn leather couch sat against the far wall, by a low coffee table tv remotes and a half-empty cup of coffee.

"Home sweet home," Johnny said with a small grin as he locked the door behind them. "Make yourself comfortable."

Y/n smiled as she slipped off her shoes, glancing around. "It’s nice. I like it."

"Well, my apartment is like any other," Johnny chuckled. "Not much, but it works for me."

He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of glasses. "You want something to drink? Water? Juice?"

"Water please," Y/n said, taking a seat on the couch. 

She looked around, taking in the personal touches scattered throughout the apartment, a few framed photos on the shelves, some cds and records in the corner, and a couple of potted plants by the window.

A few moments later, Johnny handed her a glass of water before settling down on the side table beside her, a comfortable silence hanging between them.

"You know," Y/n said, breaking the quiet as she swirled her glass, "I really wasn’t expecting my day to end like this."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Hanging out in some guy’s apartment after your dad ditched lunch?"

Y/n laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah."

"Well, if it helps, you’ve made my day more interesting," Johnny said, leaning back against the cushions. "I was just gonna spend the afternoon binge-watching something stupid."

"I mean, you can still do that, you just have company now," Y/n said, smiling a little as she relaxed into the couch. "I don’t mind watching something stupid with you."

Johnny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright then, but you can pick."

Y/n thought for a moment, then grinned. "SpongeBob?"

Johnny blinked, caught off guard by her choice before a slow smile spread across his face. "Spongebob it is. A real big girl pick."

He grabbed the remote, flicking through streaming options until he found the show. As the theme song blared from the TV, Y/n couldn’t help but smile a little, already feeling lighter. Johnny sat back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence as they watched the ridiculous antics of a yellow sponge unfold.

It was halfway through an episode, some scene involving jellyfishing, when Johnny glanced over at her, noticing the way her expression had grown more subdued, as if her mind was elsewhere. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting until the end of the episode before speaking.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his voice low.

Y/n hesitated, keeping her eyes on the screen for a moment before sighing. "I guess…I don’t know. It just hit me again, how weird things are with my dad."

Johnny didn’t interrupt, letting her find the right words.

"It’s just…frustating," Y/n continued, playing with the hem of her sleeve. "Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. But he’s just so infuriating. Like I barely get to hang out with him, as you can tell, but even when I used to try hang out with him at home, he’s brush me off and get annoyed, so I stopped. I don’t doubt that he loves me, but he makes it so difficult. He’s not at all abusive, but he makes me feel so ignored."

Johnny frowned slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "So he’s just really distant…doesn’t give you the time of day?"

"Exactly," Y/n said quietly. "I’m just a constant bother to him."

Johnny nodded, leaning forward slightly. "You want him to show up for you, but it feels like he won’t."

Y/n swallowed hard, the truth of his words striking her. "Yeah. And I don’t know how to deal with that anymore. I keep trying, but…it’s exhausting."

They sat in silence for a beat, the sound of the next episode playing in the background.

"You ever feel like...things are just never gonna get better with someone?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny was quiet for a moment before answering. "Yeah. I think everyone feels that way at some point. But it doesn’t always mean things are stuck forever. Sometimes, you’ve gotta figure out what you need first, and if you can’t get it from that person, you might need to find it elsewhere."

Y/n looked over at him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know if he’ll ever be the dad I need him to be."

Johnny turned toward her, his expression serious but warm. "Sometimes people can’t be what we want them to be. That’s not on you. But it’s okay to take care of yourself. You don’t have to keep putting yourself through it if it’s just hurting you."

For a moment, Y/n didn’t say anything, letting his words sink in. It was hard to accept, but hearing it from Johnny felt...freeing, like he understood in a way not many people did.

"Thanks, Johnny," she said softly, offering a small, sincere smile. "Really."

He smiled back, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. "Anytime. Back to Spongebob?"

Y/n chuckled and nodded as she turned her attention back to the screen. It wasn’t the day she planned, but sitting there, watching cartoons with Johnny, she realized it was exactly what she needed.

Johnny leaned back into the couch, pretending to focus on the show playing in front of them. But his eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to Y/n. She was sitting quietly, her gaze fixed on the screen, but he could tell her mind was still elsewhere, probably circling back to her dad. He had seen that look before, in the mirror of all places.

It wasn’t the first time he found himself just...watching her. Not in a creepy way, but in those moments where he couldn’t help but notice little things, like how the corners of her lips twitched up slightly when something made her smile, even if it was brief. Or how she played with her fingers at random times. It was those small details that caught his attention, and sometimes, if he wasn’t careful, it caught too much of his attention.

You need to stop looking at her like that, Johnny.

The thought hit him hard, like a warning he had to keep reminding himself of. She was younger than him, too young for him to be having moments like this. But no matter how many times he told himself that, there was something about her that made it difficult to look away.

Her dad clearly didn’t see it. Didn’t see how much she needed someone to be there for her, to just show up. And Johnny…well, he clearly wasn’t her dad, wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a bartender, but damn it, he could be there.

If no one else was going to step up, he was willing to. He couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting alone, waiting for someone who wasn’t coming.

He hated that she felt this way, that someone so vibrant, who could light up a room with her laugh, was carrying this weight around like it was hers alone to bear.

And as much as he knew he shouldn’t get too involved, there was a part of him that didn’t care. If she needed someone, he was more than ready to fill that role, even if it meant risking a little heartache of his own.

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Y/n turned toward him, catching his eye with a soft smile that made something stir in his chest. 

"You okay over there?" she asked, her voice light, but her gaze curious. 

Johnny smirked, pushing aside his deeper thoughts for now. "Yeah. Just thinking about your choice of entertainment." 

Y/n laughed quietly. "It’s silly and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Always brings me comfort." 

He smiled back. Johnny realized he didn’t mind spending the rest of his day like this, just sitting beside her, watching silly cartoons, and being exactly where he wanted to be.

-

A/N: BAM! Part one out the gate Again, these fics ended up wAY too long for no reason, so I had to seperate them into different parts, but shouldn't be a big deal, lol I hope you enjoyed this part and read the next two :) Thank you for reading 💚

[kashimos-hajime]

—bargained | s.r.

summary: "does that mean you're in?"

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

a/n: set before the previous installment, just to give context on why y/n changed her mind :P part of the undateable series

masterlist

You’re staring at the manager form when Osamu somehow finds you.

Refilling your water bottle, reading the basic terms and conditions of such a position in the volleyball club, you clock his shadow before you realize he’s closer than you thought.

Folding the paper, you wave it with an arched brow, and he smiles in the way a Miya twin does. A smile that spells trouble in bold, dark lines, and one you know well enough to steer away from. However, Osamu’s been taller than you since fifth grade, which has pissed you off ever since, and you know he’ll catch up to you in no time if you try to run, so you steel yourself instead.

“If you volunteer me for something without telling me, you should have at least had the guts to tell me yourself after the fact.” Slipping the water bottle into the side pocket of your bag, you tuck the manager form your schoolbag, too. “I had to hear it from Suna?”

Osamu’s eyebrows knit together. “Not my fault he volunteered. Said it was more convenient since you guys shared homeroom.”

“Right. You probably forced him to. Either way,” you continue, leaning against the wall. “I’m not doing it. I’ve never ‘managed’ something before, and it seems like a lot of work.”

“It is,” he agrees, “but you’re so capable, you were just the first person I thought of.”

A group of girls are bypassing as you snap back sardonically: “I’m touched. Is that list of people long, per se, or…”

“C’mon, kuri-kuri. You know I wouldn’ta asked if it wasn’t important! We really need someone. We didn’t think Shiri-san would bow out in her last year.”

A frown pulls at your mouth at the slump of his shoulders, and you feel a little bad for rejecting him so hastily. Tugging at the bottom of your jacket, you withhold a sigh. “Yeah, I mean, I know but it’s just a lot of commitment, and I live really far.”

“I’ll make Atsumu pay for the late train ticket.”

“You should be the one paying,” you retort, stabbing a finger into his chest. His eyebrows rise as you continue on, “And you have to come see me on the weekends at work with lunch for my break.”

“All that way? What about our Sunday practices?”

“Good thing I work on Saturdays, right?” You grin sweetly. Osamu gulps nervously. He’d forgotten how damn convincing you could be without much work. That, and the posse of girls that had somehow slowed down to a crawl walking past them whispering amongst themselves makes his face heat up. 

You’re doing a good job at ignoring them, when suddenly, one of the girls says a little too loudly: “Since when was it Miya Osamu? I thought for sure it would be Tsumu-chan.”

And another replies, hushed—a warning. “Well, wasn’t there that other guy? One of the guys in the programming club. Maybe she likes nerdy types, too.” 

“I’m not dating him!” Your voice cracks the air, sharp as a whip and your gaze snaps to the girl who spoke last. They all squeak in shock, and when Osamu’s gaze passes over them, they shrink even more. Annoyance burning through your blood, you push your friend away and cross your arms, brow furrowing and lips twisting into a terrible scowl. “I’m the volleyball team manager, idiots, not looking for a date. Ugh, do any of you have anything else on your mind but me?”

Grabbing Osamu’s arm, you drag him away from the water fountain and down the hall, ignoring the pleased smile growing on his face the farther you pull him along. Heading for the entrance of the school, you find your locker and let go of Osamu’s arm, kicking off your indoor shoes.

A huff escapes as you yank the locker open, and pout at the scarce space inside before groaning. If only you could bash your head in, in a totally safe and undamaging way, of course.  "That's so annoying. Everything is so annoying."

“But you’re the team manager, huh?” Osamu asks slyly, leaning against the other lockers by your own. “Does that mean you’re in?”

“Nope. Buy me lunch tomorrow and I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, but that's expensive. What if I made you lunch?” he bargained. You withdraw your outdoor sneakers and laugh, irritation melting away. 

For a moment, you think there could be worse people to have rumours with, and you pat his head. “Is that you volunteering? I won’t complain.”

Osamu ducks away from your touch. "No, that's—stop pettin' my head like a dog!"

You shrug, pull on your runners, and close your locker, thinking aloud. “Hm… well, I thought three handmade onigiri would do just fine." His eyebrows scrunch together, and you chain back the laugh aching to burst out your throat. He looks utterly bewildered, and you barely hold back the urge to tell him to take notes. "I want two salmon mayo and one tuna mayo for filling, delivered to my desk right at the lunch bell.” Running a thumb underneath your schoolbag to readjust it on your shoulder, you grin and flick his forehead with before skipping down the steps and heading for the front doors. “See you tomorrow, Osamu, and thanks!”

“W-wait, but that’s not what I meant!” 

But, just as you did seven years ago when you made Osamu cry by pushing him off the swing after he kept yanking at your swing’s chain, you ignore him.

[frythebrains]

My official list of how well it would go if a primarch would be horrendously down bad for me (in numerical order)

Lion- 4/10. He's really going to have to have a lot of Very Serious conversations with himself and get out of the closet. I feel like he'd complain that I'm on my phone too much. Also, I can't keep secrets for shit.

[REDACTED]- 0/10. Didn't even show up for the date.

Fulgrim- 6/10. We'd probably get along relatively well and I'd really enjoy having someone to make clothes for, but I wouldn't be able to keep up with his social obligations. His rating goes up considerably well if Ferrus is also included.

Perturabo- 8/10. I feel like I could handle him well enough, and we're both grumpy bastards, so it balances out. We actually have interests in common, so we'll be able to actually have things to talk about while we sit on opposite sides of our massive craft room working on our own projects. He might be a little sexist, but I'm sure we could work it out.

Jaghati Khan- 3/10. I really don't have the energy to keep up with him. Also, I'd last about 5 minutes in a yurt.

Leman Russ- 1/10. We are absolutely incompatible, and that's not counting my dislike of him. I'd be falling asleep halfway through his parties on one of his wolves. Not to mention that I somehow doubt that Fenris is a good place for vegetarians.

Rogal Dorn- 5/10. Honestly, we'd probably forget that we're in a relationship at some point because we get too involved in our own little projects and just never see each other. Not to mention he'd probably get along with my brother way too well and every single family dinner would be turned into an engineering black hole. However, our lego collection would be legendary.

Konrad Curze- 2/10. I feel like this should be obvious. Also, he'd probably shred all my plushies.

Sanguinius- 4/10. Honestly, we're just both going to be caught in a loop of 'I'm not good enough for him' at some point or another and it'll drag down the relationship immensely as we both try to prove our worth to the other one all the while feeling terrible about it. I do feel like our hobbies would line up nicely though.

Ferrus Manus- 7/10. I have a feeling he might not appreciate my abilities with fiber arts, but I feel like we could work around it. Not to mention that I would absolutely not turn down free blacksmithing lessons. His rating goes up significantly if Fulgrim is included (What? They balance each other out!)

[REDACTED]- 0/10. Wrote me a creepy stalker letter and I didn't reply.

Angron- 1/10. I literally have no idea what we'd even do with each other. There would be lots of awkward staring.

Robute Guilliman- 9/10. We'd probably spend a lot of time crying in each other's arms during tax season. Other than that, we're pretty compatible and would probably have a lot of fun making petty comments at state functions.

Mortarion- 14/10. It mainly works because I'm also horrendously down bad for him. Like, I'd have this man's children and I hate children (which is fine, because I doubt he wants children either). It would be the second date and we'd already have the house with the white picket fence and 2.5 nurglings.

Magnus- 9/10. I'm also severely down bad for this man; I would probably spend a lot of time playing with his hair and reassuring him that yes, Leman Russ and the space wolves are bitches. However, Jeopardy would be an absolutely blood sport in our house to the point of terrifying the neighbours.

Horus- 3/10. There's absolutely no way I can keep up with this man's social schedule. I'm way too much of an introvert for that. There's also no way I'd be able to deal with his daddy issues.

Lorgar- 5/10. I do feel like Lorgar could be really sweet, but with the daddy issues and the religious issues and the having to have Kor Phaeron at holidays... yeah.

Vulkan- friends/10. Like, I know he's the perfect man and everything, but the only way we could conceivably cuddle would be in a freezer because otherwise we'd both overheat.

Corvus Corax- 4/10. We'd just be too depressed together, and I feel like he's not going to give me encouragement. Also, there's the probability that he would disappear at some point and I'd spiral into a 'what have I done wrong?' spiral at endless guilt.

Alpharius Omegon- 8/10. I might be as blunt as a 2x4, but I do like the idea of getting two for one. I do also really like the idea that the entire Alpha legion would gaslight everyone in my life to not misgender me.

imagine if the one of the primarchs was horrendously down bad for you, the fucking dream

[glorixuspurpose]

can u make a dae ho fic about us being the only black person in the games and he’s lowk intrigued. and maybeeee it turns to a smut 😉

Keeping Watch

Kang Dae-Ho x black!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This took way too long because writers block was lowkey kicking my butt. I still feel like this is kind of buns but I could also write a part 2 where they play mingle? And there’s no smut cause I’m still working on it sorry queen😞

(222 does not exist in this story for the sake of plot(sorry jun-hee😞))

 You never thought you’d end up in a place like this. You had originally moved to Korea for university, before eventually staying and attempting a fresh start. Things were going well at first, finding a typical office job that paid and treated you well…that was until there were ‘necessary’ layoffs due to budget cuts and you were unfortunately on that list. You had found a sustainable job since then, but bills were piling up and you couldn’t work any more overtimes, which was how you found yourself playing ddakji with a businessman in a subway station; how you found yourself calling the suspicious number on the brown card; how you found yourself in a game where people were getting killed for money. 

 You brought your knees even closer to your chest, peering over them at all of the other people in the dormitory. It’s only been a day(or two, you had no clue what time it was here), and people were already separating into groups. There was the rapper, Thanos, and his group, then the former player Gi-Hun and his team, then the only other group you could make out was the girl you had only spoken to in passing, Hyun-Ju, and her friends, yet you pretty much had no one, and was still figuring out whether or not that was a bad thing. You found the answer in the second game, the 6 legged pentathlon. You stayed frozen in the sand, unsure of where to go or who to approach, but you already knew that most likely none of them would openly invite you(or accept you) into their group, and you knew why–your skin color. You couldn’t exactly be angry, it must be a bit strange to see skin that isn't as pale as theirs, but in a game of life and death it shouldn’t matter that much, right?

 The ten minute timer was getting closer and closer to zero, and you were getting more and more desperate. You attempted to put yourself out there a little bit, asking around, but instead you were met with weird looks or even nothing, the others just ignoring you. You were close to giving up until you saw a group of only five people, Gi-Hun’s group. At first, you were nervous about approaching them. They had never really talked to you before, let alone anyone else; what if they just treated you like everyone else did and just told you to kick the curb? Still, you persevered and approached them. They didn’t notice you, until you cleared your throat and all of their gazes were on you.

 “Um…I saw that you guys were only five people so…could I please join you guys? Obviously I’m not having that good of luck.” You muttered, rubbing your arm subconsciously as you averted all of their gazes. 

“Uh, well…we already have six people” Player 390 said as he stepped back, revealing another player. 

“Oh. I can go then–” You said, turning, before you felt someone grab your arm–player 388.

“You can stay with us! We’ll make sure we win, right guys?” 

“You know what? Yeah! We can’t leave this poor lady with some terrible group!” Player 001 agreed, shooing the other marine. 

                                                           ***

 When the first two groups had completed–and both had failed–all of your hope was gone. You probably couldn’t play any of the games, except for ddakji, but even then you struggled a bit. 

As the six of you were watching anxiously along with the rest of the players, 390(who you soon learned his name was Jung-Bae) turned to you. “Do you know how to play gonggi?”

You knew what the game was, and even some girls in your neighborhood had taught you how to play–but your skills were a work in progress. 

“I’m not that good…” You answered. 

Jung-Bae sighed. “Doesn’t anybody know how to play gonggi anymore?”

“Well…I can.” Dae-Ho spoke up, his face hiding behind the collar of his jacket. 

“You? A marine?” 

 “I used to play with my sisters a lot.” 

Jung-Bae nodded in approval, along with the rest of the group. He turned back to you. “Well, what can you play?” 

“Um…I can do ddakji I guess. I was pretty good.”

“Perfect! I can do the flying stone!” 

“I can do jegi.” Gi-Hun spoke. 

“Then I’ll do flying top.” Young-Il confirmed.

The short conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunshots. Everyone screamed and ducked their heads as the triangle guards killed the players that failed, leaving it to the other guards to take the bodies to their coffins and clean up the blood. 

As the third race started, Jung-Bae urged Dae-Ho to begin practicing Gonggi with stones, which he hurriedly complied. You didn’t have much else to do besides watch in fear as the losing team got shot. The room was slowly emptying out group by group, until it was finally your team’s turn to go. You were praying that you wouldn’t be the team to lose. 

The six of you lined up on the starting line as the guards chained your ankles together, and only one of your ankles chained because you were on the outside. 

“Let’s not lose hope, okay?” Jung-Bae assured. Dae-Ho nodded along. 

“If we believe in ourselves enough, we can do it! Besides, we have two ex-marines on our team!”

You smiled to yourself, forcing yourself to believe what he said. 

  As you expected from watching the other games, you were up first. You lifted the blue square in the air, eyes squinted in precision as you decided how much force would be best to flip the red square. You threw it down with contained force, flipping it first try. The six of you cheered, before linking arms and marching down to the next game, which was flying stone, which Jung-Bae also got first try. Next was gonggi, which had all of you crouching as you watched Dae-Ho play gonggi at practically expert level speed, which you honestly thought was pretty attractive–not that you’d ever say it. There was a momentary pause in the luck as Young-Il struggled with the spinning top and was constantly mentally(and eventually physically) beating himself up for it, but he finally got it and the six of you moved on to the last game, jegi, which Gi-Hun defeated with ease(with the help of Young-Il).

 Back in the dormitory, you sat on your bed as you ate what you assumed was dinner, not noticing Dae-Ho approaching you from behind.

He questionably called your name, as if he had only heard it in passing, making you jump.

“Sorry if I alarmed you…I just wanted to say you were really good at ddakji in there.” He complimented, now standing in front of you.

“Me? You were amazing at gonggi, it was like you were a professional.” You complimented back, backing him look down bashfully, before speaking once more. 

“Hey, you didn’t seem to be in a group back there…would you like to join ours?”

 You paused for a moment, staring at him as if you were determining whether or not he was serious. “You don’t have to do that…I don’t want to…intrude.” 

He immediately shook his head. “No! I insist. Er…we insist.” He said, gesturing back at the group, who seemed immersed in their own conversation. You weren’t extremely convinced, but he was too cute for you to say no, and it didn’t seem smart to stay alone in a place like this.

“Well, if all of you insist, then I can.”

He smiled, holding a hand out to help you up(which you didn’t need, but gladly accepted anyway), as the two of you walked towards Gi-Hun’s group.

 “She agreed to join our group.” Dae-Ho informed them.

Young-Il smiled. “Perfect. I can assure that you’ll be in good hands.” He said, shaking your hand. Before you could respond, a booming voice came from over the intercom, informing that lights out will be in 30 minutes, which makes Gi-Hun perk up.

“We should make sure that we’re safe throughout the night.” 

 “What do you mean?” Jung-Bae asked.

“The last time I was here, fights broke out in the night and some people died. We should have at least one person keeping watch through the night.”

“Through the night?” Jung-Bae complained. 

“I mean, we could alternate…I could go first.” You suggested.

“Then…I’ll go too! It’s probably not the best for just one person to keep watch, right?”

 Young-Il nodded. “Good idea. I can go next.” 

“If it’s not morning by then, I guess I’ll go afterwards…” Jung-Bae sighed. 

“Then it’s settled. We should move some of our beds to a safer spot, just in case.” Gi-Hun suggested, which lead to the six of you moving the mattresses under the bottom bed. 

“It seems a little bit claustrophobic…I guess it’s better than dying, right?” You murmured. 

Dae-Ho clasped a hand on your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

  After the voice over the intercom announced lights out, you and Dae-Ho moved to one of the beds further up, sitting at the end. 

“This is kind of boring…” You admitted. “Then again, I guess I don’t know what I was expecting.”

 boring…” You admitted. “But then again, what did I expect?”

Dae-Ho nodded. “I’m not too surprised. I had to do this from time to time back when I was a marine.”

“Did you ever fall asleep?”

 “I was strong enough to stay awake.”

“Let’s hope I can say the same…” The two of you stayed silent. “Why me anyway?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…you could’ve just been like, ‘great, she helped us,’ then never talked to me again. So why put in the effort?”

“Well…I guess you intrigued me.”

 “I..intrigued you?”

“Well…not just because of your appearance, but…I guess you’re just so…quiet. I mean, we’ve only had two games, but you’ve never really paired up or talked with anyone till the last game.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t want to, they just don’t talk to me.”

“I’ll talk to you.”

You smile, not knowing what to say, instead leaning on his shoulder. 

“Not to ruin the mood, but…I don’t…want to die.” You admitted. 

“I don’t think any of us do.” Dae-Ho sighed, before turning to you. “How’d you end up here anyway?”

“Here as in Korea, or here as in…well, this?”

“Both.” 

 “Well…I originally came here for university, but then I decided to move here. My roommate kept getting caught up with loan sharks, so being the good roommate I was, I tried to help. Obviously, that didn’t work out.”

“That’s unfair. Why are you here and your roommate isn't?”

“She’s…dead.”

 His face fell. “Oh. I’m sorry–”

“Don’t worry about it. She wasn't the best person anyway.” You nestled further into his shoulder, yawning. “How much longer is our ‘shift?’”

“I’m not sure. You’re tired?”

You nodded against him. “Mhm.”

“Just go ahead. I’ll stay awake.” He insisted. 

 You temporarily pulled away, looking up at him. “Seriously?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” You smiled at him, mumbling a thanks as you leaned back onto his shoulder, falling asleep in what felt like seconds. It now seemed boring with you, he thought.