#because i fucking love the work of this show's music supervisors and how they know how to carry the emotional weight of a moment!!

[lonestardust]

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Only Boo!

*kicks down the door* I'm a few weeks late but I have arrived and I am here to yell about this fucking adorable show. Have you heard that it's the cutest shit you've ever seen in a fresh new package of all your favorite silly old romance tropes? Besties, this is truly the Sunday Serotonin we need. Here are the top 10 things I love about it:

The main romance is between a confident sunshine protagonist and a kind older boy working through his grief and an artistic block. Mok (Moo) and Kang are such nice boys, two cinnamon rolls too sweet and pure for this world, and I loved them instantly. They have a nice crackly chemistry between them and really solid communication right from the start.

The setting is rural and refreshing. Moo moves to Nakhom Pathom to attend school for a semester because his mom wants him to focus on his studies before she will allow him to pursue a career as an idol. Little did she know she was delivering him to a cute boy who would become the new distraction.

The crushing and flirting starts immediately, and it's mutual. They just like each other, man. Kang is (slightly) older and trying to be responsible about keeping Moo focused on his studies so he's putting up some token resistance, but it's very very token. They both find excuses to keep seeing each other after they meet.

There's a side couple with a long-term pining friends to lovers arc. The way I squealed when they revealed that photo wall. I support you, Payos, you will get your boo. These two also have a lovely, easy chemistry and seem so comfortable around each other. Their characterization also gets a fun twist in the beginning of the story.

The writing is strong and assured. This was written by the same screenwriting team as Cooking Crush, aka the best written original Thai bl of last season. These folks know their way around a smart romcom. They know how to deploy classic tropes so they feel fresh, build authentic character arcs, and make all the beats of the story feel confident. We are in good hands and don't need to worry about any out of left field conflicts or weird plot turns with this one.

A fresh new cast brings a ton of energy. I really love all four of the main actors for this show. They're young and bright and breathing some new life into an old formula. And both pairs have solid chemistry and seem comfortable in their scenes together.

Some of our old favorites are here too. They've made the smart decision to bolster the young main cast by surrounding them with more experienced seniors like our lady Milk, here playing Kang's friend and neighbor who is all up in his crush on Moo. Louis and Book are also going to show up at some point.

The show incorporates music and dancing in such a charming way. Moo is one of those kids who just has to dance, and the show mines a lot of comedy around his efforts to stifle the impulse as his mom ordered. I don't think he'll hold out for long, though, because Payos and Tae are on him to train with them. And of course the music supervisor is having a great time working in some classic GMMTV music gags (yes, Love Score and Too Cute To Handle both make memorable appearances).

It's a high school story brimming with youthful energy without being mired in immaturity. The tone of this show reminds me of My School President in the best way, in that it has all the sweetness and innocence of a high school romance without making the characters so immature and bad at communication that it's annoying to watch. As expected from the CC writers, these characters may be inexperienced but they are going to talk to each other and honesty will prevail every time.

We are only three episodes in and the romance is already well underway. This is the kind of show where we will see the main pair flirt and date and face obstacles together. The swoony moments started immediately and Moo is already throwing around the faen title. We know from the synopsis that the core conflict will come when Moo is forced to choose between his relationship with Kang and his dream of being an idol, and I expect he will be finding a way around that choice. I'll be strapped in for the ride because I already believe in these two.

[professional-benaddict]

okay so idk too much how the whole residency thing works for doctors and shit but i like the idea of peter who’s a resident and tony who’s his supervisor ??? whenever they have the chance,,, dr. stark ensures that peter’s working and studying hard to become a successful doctor one day through some hands on action 👀

i sUck at smut bUt i tried my best sksk jae aka queen of smut pls like it😭😭💗💗

Attending surgeon Tony, resident surgeon Peter, hospital AU, surgery, workplace romance, power dynamics, arguments, hints at past sex, making out

Peter loved the OR before, but now he adores them.

Peter knows a lot of surgeons like to play music during their surgeries, like Doctor Quill in peds and Doctor Strange in neuro. Peter is starting to discover that he might be the type of surgeon who prefers a quiet workplace. Doctor Stark does too, and it is marvelous to watch him work.

The sounds of the machines and ventilator, the metal instruments clinking softly, the squishy sound of heart muscle between the clamps. It’s a beautiful melody, and Doctor Stark is leading the show gracefully. Peter watches his every move.

Some of Peter’s fellow resident surgeons say he is copying Doctor Stark shamelessly. Doctor Stark’s speciality is cardiac surgery, Peter wants to pick cardiology too. Doctor Stark doesn’t like music during his surgeries, Peter doesn’t either. Doctor Stark likes sex in the afternoon in an on call room, Peter does too… That last one only Peter and Doctor Stark know about. Or that’s what Peter hopes. Because his fellow residents look mighty jealous up in the gallery, watching as Doctor Stark lets Peter do a running whip stitch on a heart.

“Peter’s doing a running whip stitch on a heart…” MJ gapes, pausing with her notes.

“I guess that’s the perk of sleeping with your boss.” Flash says, snacking loudly on his bag of chips.

Down in the OR below, Doctor Stark lifts his head to look at the gallery and the audience there. His headlight is blinding, but one can still see his angry eyes above his surgical mask.

“Flash, Jesus-” MJ curses, jumping up from her seat to turn off the intercom in the gallery.

Everyone in the OR heard Flash’s comment.

Except Peter it seems. The young surgeon is so focused on his stitching that he didn’t hear Flash. Once done with his sticth, Peter looks up to see what his mentor will say.

“Doctor Stark?”

“Doctor Parker, you’re done here.” Stark says, his tone flat, but with an edge of anger.

“What? The stitch is holding.” Peter says, checking his work again. The stitch is holding. It is the best running whip stitch Peter has ever done.

“Doctor Parker, get out of my OR.” Stark rephrases, his voice louder. It is impossible for Peter to read his facial expression. He tries once more to argue, but it only angers the attending surgeon even further. “NOW!”

Despite his own bubbling anger, Peter drops his instruments nicely. In reality, he would very much like to toss the bloody instruments in Doctor Stark’s face for treating him this way. They had had such a nice time in the on call room earlier. Hot bodies pressed together, their lips in sync… He had even promised Peter he could try stitching the heart muscle in surgery later.

But, disrespecting his superiors would get him kicked out of the surgical programme and the hospital. Peter steps away from the OR table and their patient, ripping his gloves and gown off in a hurry. He doesn’t let the others see him crying in the scrub room.

An hour later, Peter finds Doctor Stark by the surgical board, making notes in a chart. The surgeon still has his surgical cap on his head. Peter remembers the way he had tugged at those black and grey hairs, and how he had faintly smelled the doctor’s oak shampoo. He bets Stark doesn’t remember what he had said.

“You feel so good…”

Peter swallows thickly and walks to the surgical board to study it while ignoring the man behind him.

“Doctor Parker, I was about to find you. Parker?”

Only now does Peter turn to face Stark, his face hard, but not too emotional. All he wants to do is cry. Or scream. Or both.

“What for?”

“To talk. About your progress.”

As if you care, Peter thinks to himself. Peter follows the older doctor, and if someone were to ask why, he would say only because the doctor is his superior. No other reason.

Doctor Stark leads him into an empty on call room. They have been here before, but the atmosphere is completely different. There’s not enough air for Peter to breathe, and he feels lightheaded with the anticipation. He lets Stark speak first, like always.

“Did you tell them about us?”

“What?”

“What Thompson said earlier, in the gallery, that-” Stark points a finger at him, as if he is a child. “That sorta shit can get me fired. Do you understand?”

“And not me? We’re in the same boat here! I don’t get why you’re so fucking mad at me cause I didn’t tell anyone anything!”

“How can I trust you?”

“Wha- you question my surgical skills all day, and that’s fine, I want that, but don’t question my honesty!”

“Your honesty is a part of this job! I can question whatever I like!” Stark yells. Peter scoffs at him angrily, his smile fake and disappointed.

“You’re one hell of an attending…”

“You’re the most annoying resident I’ve ever met.”

Like magnets, they are drawn to one another. Peter’s lips crash into Stark’s, and they both fight for dominance of the kiss. Their anger is fuelling them, and Peter pushes Stark’s surgical cap of his head. He tugs backwards at the strands of hair, grinning with mischief at seeing Stark expose his throat.

“Fuck!”

Stark uses his bodyweight to push Peter onto the bed behind them as revenge. They quickly find each other’s lips again, and the fast and hungry kisses continue.

Peter loves this place. The OR, the hospital, everything. And he might love Doctor Stark too.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

hungry eyes (pjm)

Summary: Jimin's summer job is more often than not a pain in the ass, but you seem different than the other girls who need dance instruction at the resort.

A/n: A commission for @kpopnoobsstuff​! 

Warnings: dirty dancing au, some prejudice given race relations for Asian Americans in the 60′s but not a lot of detail, unprotected sex, public vaginal fingering, praise, dirty talk, Jimin is a jackass like over half this fic, a serious ankle injury, angst, mention of sex work (with an age gap), alcohol, smoking

Word Count: 8767 (i have a lot of feelings about this movie)

Rating: Mature

hey, hey hey baby

Of all the things Jimin had dreamed he'd end up doing, working as a dance instructor/gigolo at an expensive resort wasn't one of them.

Julliard wasn't cheap, though, and so every summer he ended up here at Sanders resort, teaching salsa and letting old ladies put hundred dollar bills into the back pocket of his slacks as tips.

Jimin fucking hated the crowd at the resort, hated the way they smelled like new money and champagne, how they looked at him like either a side of meat (the women) or like something that they needed to scrape off the bottom of their shoe (most of the men).

It's better than before, digging ditches during the summer and shoveling snow during the winter because no one is going to hire a Korean boy for an office no matter how good his English.

His hands had cracked and bled, forming callouses where they'd been smooth before and he finds himself running his thumbs over the ones on his palms while waiting for his cue in rehearsal.

When his coworker tells him of a gig he'd done, Jimin's eyebrow raised at his friend's paycheck.

Having to go by "Jimmy" instead of Jimin because the supervisors think his given name is too hard to pronounce puts a bad taste in his mouth, but he needs the money. It isn't as if he can tell his parents he's decided to be a professional dancer instead of a doctor or lawyer like they'd dreamed, and they didn't have the funds to help with tuition anyway.

So he spends every summer rolling his hips for the hungry eyes in the crowd, smiling and pretending that them purring, "Jimmy" in his ear doesn't make him shudder. It's the third summer before anything truly interesting happens.

Jimin didn't even like salsa or ballroom dancing or the mamba or any of the stupid easily learned dances he was forced to perform. He was a classical dancer, ballet being his forte, but this pays the bills and it's a way to keep his father off his back about his choice in colleges.

The older women weren't so bad, they'd give him anything if he whispered "noona," in their diamond decorated ears, but the younger girls, the ones who came there with daddy's money, those are the ones he doesn't fuck with.

The only woman he'd fucked with outside of work, in fact, had been Sunmi, his best friend since childhood, and even that not for years. Sunmi had followed him to Julliard and to the resort but they'd gone their own way after that and it wasn't as if they were ever in love, after all.

Despite the rumors among the staff, Jimin hasn't touched Sunmi outside of dancing in going on three years. He knew they looked like a couple, moved in tune with each other's bodies, and that's why they got paid the big bonuses.

Maybe he still got a little worked up after performances, liked to work up a sweat after at the dancer's barracks, and who could blame him when he sees you slumming it, tapping your toe to the music with your nose wrinkled and a little smile on your face.

He doesn't even have to say anything, just smiles at you, quirks his finger and you bounce forward ungracefully enough to make him laugh.

Sunmi snickers at him but he waves her off, knows she makes her rounds among the male staff that work in catering so she can't judge.

 You know of Jimmy before you ever see him, having several members of the staff tell you in no uncertain terms to stay away from him, that he's trouble. You're surprised by how good he is, you can't take your eyes off him during the first dance performance of the summer. Jimmy Park certainly looks like trouble, with his sly smirk and the way he’d effortlessly flipped up his partner, Sunny, her skirt flipping up to reveal a pair of boyshorts stretched across her perfect bottom, and you’d swear he’d winked at you after.

You don’t think about the dancers for a while, busy touring the resort with your sister, who’d dragged you to the resort in the first place. You’d wanted to stay home and study, but your father had insisted that you join the family for the summer.

It’s boring, more for the older crowd than someone like you, a junior in college. You’re studying business because that’s what your father wants, but you like to write poetry, and you’re usually content to stay in your room and scribble.

It’s hot, though, the air conditioning not doing much to help the humidity, so you go for a walk, hoping there’s a bit of a breeze.

While you’re out, you run into a staff member, a dancer you think, but you aren’t sure, you’d been so busy watching the instructor. 

“Girl shouldn’t be out this late at night alone. Might get in trouble,” he teases.

He’s cradling bottles of alcohol and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for stealing those?”

He laughs, loud and open. He’s cute, dressed down in a white tshirt and jeans, not like the stuck up staff members that do catering and management in the resort.

“Not if you don’t tell, baby.”

You bristle, but only a little. That’s what everyone calls you, after all, Baby might as well be your name. You’re the youngest and you’ll admit you’ve always been spoiled.

He shuffles the liquor bottles around to stick out his hand. “I’m BamBam.”

You shake his hand, a bit awkwardly because of all that he’s holding. “Interesting name.”

His face falls, just a bit, but then he smiles again. “You don’t know the half of it.” 

Bambam pauses for a moment, and then cocks his head. “You wanna help me with all this? I’ll show you something.”

You’d been warned about being alone with men, you’d had some experiences in college that you’d never tell your family about, it’s not as if you’re a prude, but especially here, so many staff members whispered about how “dangerous” the dance crew was, but you’ve been bored out of your mind, and Bambam seems sweet, if a little flirty.

You shrug and take a couple of bottles, giggling when he sighs dramatically in relief.

It’s such a long walk that you start to get worried, but eventually you start to hear the music, a surprising amount of bass given the attitude of the resort in general, juggling two half liters of expensive vodka likely pilfered from the resort bar.

BamBam kicks the door open, nearly dropping the liquor, and you manage not to laugh but it’s a near thing. The heat almost hits you in the face, the music louder than you’d imagined, and you find your mouth dropping open, looking around at the dancers.

You recognize a few members of the dance team, but none more than Jimmy, the dancer you’d been unable to keep your eyes from earlier that week.

His partner, she’d introduced herself as Sunny and you’d noticed she was nearly as beautiful as him, is practically riding his thigh, her head thrown back as he moves to the music, and you turn your eyes away, embarrassed.

It seems intimate in a way that makes you feel a pang of envy. You’d had flirtations here and there, even a few flings at college (which you pray your father would never catch wind of), but here? In public, in front of everyone?

You try to tell yourself the heat in your stomach is from embarrassment instead of arousal.

When you look over, Bambam is looking over at you with a sly grin. He juggles the liquor bottles.

“You wanna try it?”

You gasp out loud and hope he can’t hear you over the music.

“The dancing,” he explains, all but yelling over the beat.

“Oh!” You exclaim, and his sly grin widens.

“What did you think I meant?” 

“Nothing! Nothing!” You insist, and finally find somewhere to put down your cargo on a large table next to the wall, just to have something to do rather than be embarrassed.

Bambam shrugs and moves to do the same, and you’re just standing there, looking around at everyone and how free and happy they look, so different than the way they look during performances and during instructions.

Bambam is about to say something to you, leaned in toward your ear, when Jimmy walks up to the table, and you freeze like a deer in headlights.

“Hey baby,” he says in this low but melodic tone, and you have this weird sense like you always do when someone calls you that, as if they know you somehow, know you’re the baby and daddy’s little girl and are somehow judging you for it.

To be fair, Jimmy looks like he’s judging everyone, even when he’s pasted on a smile during a rumba class or smirking during a resort wide performance. You’re not sure if it’s confidence, arrogance, or anger, but you have to admit it’s a little attractive, the way his dark eyes flash when you put out your hand for him to take.

He doesn’t just lead you out onto the dance floor, he tugs at your arm, pulls you close to his chest, looks down at you as if you’re lovers and you suppose the way the others dance, that’s just how this goes, that’s how the dance goes, but when he slides his thigh between yours you can’t help but gasp.

He laughs right at the shell of your ear and it makes goosebumps pop up on the flesh between your neck and shoulder.

“You gotta move your hips, baby. Nobody likes a dead fish.”

It takes a few moments and more of your face feeling hot but you manage to get a rhythm and it’s hotter in here than you’d expected, sweat rolling from the fine hairs at your temples to your neck, his hands on your hips and his eyes on yours and it’s intense, makes you wonder if this is what you’ve been missing out on when you refuse to go with your sister to the staff parties that she’s been trying to drag you to the whole resort stay.

His face is so close you can see the sweat on his brow, the way his full lips are parted, leaning closer and closer in and you could swear he is going to kiss you, you even tilt your chin up, part your own lips, close your eyes.

Then he spins you, instead, and you feel dizzy, open your eyes, and see him striding off toward the back of the building.

You huff out a long breath, torn between storming out into the cool night air or following him, deeper into the humid building, like descending into hell if you were to believe the way your father’s pastor preaches at your hometown church.

You look back at the open door, the breeze cooling the sweat on your body and making you shiver, before you follow him, weaving between the people on the crowded dance floor with murmured apologies.

You follow him all the way out into the night, just on the other side, and you feel a little stupid for your dramatic thinking earlier, watching him exhale smoke from his nose, leaned against he back of the barn.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t make any indication that he knows you’re there.

“Jimmy?” You call, and you’d meant to be flirty, aggressive even, but it comes out small in the cold air.

He scoffs, takes another drag from his cigarette, glances over at you.

“What, you gonna pay for a lesson? Bet you didn’t bring daddy’s wallet with you when you followed Bam.”

“I-I didn’t-I don’t,”

He smiles then, not as much of a smirk, and it softens his face.

“Don’t worry,  baby. I'm only teasing. I’m not gonna tell your daddy you’re out here slumming it.”

“I’m not-” your voice raises and he turns his head to face you, one eyebrow raised, and you lower your tone. “I’m not slumming it.”

He shrugs lazily, offers you a drag of his cigarette and you don’t smoke but you place your lips around the end anyway, wonder if you can taste his mouth on it, inhale and manage not to cough.

“Jimmy-” you continue, and he rolls his eyes and your heart races, feeling like you’d said something stupid, and maybe you have because he flicks his cigarette into the night, turns, bracing himself against the wall and when he’s closer you wonder if he’s drunk, you can smell some type of acrid liquor and the leather of his jacket.

“My name is Jimin,” he says, and there’s no slur at all around his words so maybe you’re wrong about that last part.

“Jimin,” you repeat, the name rolling around your mouth, feeling thick on your tongue like the red wine you sip at your father’s dinner parties. You find yourself tilting your chin up again as he nods sharply and your eyes keep flickering between the sharp line of his jaw and his full mouth.

“I know your kind,” he continues, and you haven’t even partaken in any of the liberally spiked punch at the party but you’re the one who feels drunk, your head light on your shoulders.

“My...kind?”

Jimin does that sharp nod again, shifts his body so that he’s standing in front of you now and your shoulders brush the back wall of the barn.

“Mmhm. Come out here on Saturday nights to see what all the fuss is about, you college girls with fur lining your purses, I swear to God I could taste the silver spoon in your mouth if I kissed you,” he breathes, his words rude and harsh but you don’t move, don’t push him away, can’t stop staring up at the flash in his eyes.

That’s what they’ve been missing, you think. That’s what all those college boys you’ve let put their hands up your skirt, grab your tit too hard in the backseat of their muscle cars, even let them fuck you over the hood of said muscle cars, hoping for some kind of thrill because it’s wrong and dirty but all you got was their cum seeping down your inner thigh and their murmured apologies and this ache between your legs. Because they didn’t have this, this energy you can feel in the air, the light in his eyes, something like anger and lust and yearning all wrapped into one.

It isn’t even for you, not really, you’re not dumb enough to believe that, but god, is it something.

“You could test that theory,” you mumble, sure that your words sound slurred, leaning into him, and his chuckle is bitter but it still sends a hint of a shiver down your spine. He traces his finger under your chin, the corners of that full mouth turning up.

“What makes you think I want to, baby?”

You’re cute, he supposes, in that way that all little rich girls are cute, with your bouncy ponytail that you almost always wear, your conservative dresses. After he’d left you outside with just the smoke from his rolled cigarette hanging in the air, he prided himself in not giving in.

He’s positive he could have fucked you, could have coaxed you to his room with a few short words, but he knows from the rest of the dance team (especially from Bambam, who’d bagged his fair share of the rich daughters of CEOs, bank owners, lawyers, doctors, and the like from the resort, considered himself a bit of an expert in the matter), that taking one of those types to your bed leads to nothing but drama. 

Drama wasn’t something Jimin needed, especially since all the odds were already stacked against him in this job (in life, really, but who’s counting?) Jimin wouldn’t consider himself a bitter person, in fact throughout his childhood and most of his adolescence, he’d been positive, optimistic, always smiling. He’d gotten stellar grades, always did what his parents wanted, had even planned to work on law school after graduation. The one class he took was mind numbingly boring, and he had no aptitude for debating. He’d been naïve, foolishly thought that his father would support whatever he wanted to do, and since he felt most alive when he was with his friends, dancing, making their own choreography, he’d approached his father with an application to Julliard.

Needless to say, Jimin became less naïve day by day, after that. It was gradual, his fall from grace, as some people might say. He thought of it more as growing up, as becoming more who he should be - and if that was a bitter asshole who manipulated rich older women into his bed for extra funds, so be it.

This isn’t to say that he doesn’t feel shame about it sometimes, or even guilt, especially like with Mrs. Jensen, nearing fifty but with the most beautiful  green eyes and the way she called him “Jiminie,” had insisted on learning his real name, traced the line of his spine in bed before he got up to dress and murmured how he was the most beautiful boy.

“If I were twenty years younger, Jiminie. Hell, I were only ten years younger,” she’d mourn, those green eyes almost liquid, and he’d smile and tell her she didn’t look a day over thirty and she’d scoff but she’d also smile, and when she smiles sometimes Jimin thinks that if he isn’t careful, age gap or no, he might just fall in love.

In the end, though, he felt okay about what he did, it was a means to an end, and if he judged the denizens of the resort too harshly, that’s because they could take it, no skin off their teeth with their millions of dollars in the bank. They could dry their tears with hundred dollar bills.

It isn’t until daylight the next morning, when Jimin wakes up slightly hungover and chugs a glass of water, when there’s this flash of your face in his head, tilted up to his, this almost hungry look in your eyes.

He’d like to say he’d seen that look before, but he hasn’t. Not quite in the same way.

Jimin doesn’t want to think about it long, and for a while he’s able to distract himself with his morning workout and then rehearsal, but for the first time in several summers, he misses a couple of steps and Sunmi looks at him from the corner of her eye with a sly smile.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and she laughs and does a little piourette.

Jimin thinks later maybe she was hungover too, or had taken too many of those codeine pills she claimed were for her periods, but she loses her balance and goes down, too quick for Jimin to catch her, off the stage, her foot caught under her body.

She cries out but then bites her lip, hard, knowing that the supervisor was just around the corner, gorging himself on snacks and champagne while they all worked for hours to get the steps just right.

Jimin tries not to show it, but he knows as soon as he hops off the stage that Sunmi’s ankle is broken, and badly. It’s already swollen, already turning a bit purple, a bit of bone poking through, a streak of blood down her foot.

“Fuck,” Sunmi says in a pained whisper, eyes liquid when she looks up at him. “Jiminie, what am I gonna do?”

Jimin knows she doesn’t mean the ankle. He knows she means the next rehearsal and the next, the big dance they’ll be doing at a nearby resort, representing the dance troupe and the hotel. He knows she means her whole fucking life because if she loses this she can’t pay for Julliard.

“We’ll figure it out, jagiya,” he says softly, lifting her into his arms. Sunmi buries her face in his chest and Jimin makes hand signals at a wide eyed Bambam to distract the supervisor while Jimin carries her back to the barracks.

There’s nothing but nervous energy throughout your body the rest of the week, as you sit through your father gorging himself on shrimp, your mother chugging champagne, your sister flirting with the staff members at the buffet. You’re barely able to make conversation, not that anyone notices. You’re used to being ignored, as the baby of the family. All you can think of is the dance instructor’s full lips inches from yours, his finger trailing up your throat before he’s just gone and you’re all but swooning with the smell of him around you like a haze.

You’d seen him a few times that week, watching from far away as he twirled a few women around the dance floor, once at a resort performance, right in front and center, seen the way his nose wrinkled when they introduced him as “Jimmy Park.” He hadn’t given you a second glance, and while it stung, you weren’t one to give up easily, not after how you’d felt when he’d looked at you, really seen you.

You’re sneaking out of the resort room when it’s barely ten pm on the last Sunday, unable to wait any longer and shimmying out the back window just as you had the other night. You manage to remember the way to the barn, and even if you didn’t you can practically feel the music booming under your feet, the faint sound drawing you closer.

Your heart rate increases as you get closer and you stand near the edge of the building, a wallflower as always, but your eyes are searching the floor. You don’t see him anywhere, and after a few moments you’re sure your lip is turning into a pout. You do spot Bambam, your ambassador from the other night, and you figure he might know something about Jimin’s whereabouts.

Bambam goes uncharacteristically quiet when you bring up Jimin’s name, though, face blanching slightly.

You look at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No. Fine, everything’s fine.”

“Bambam?”

He won’t look at you, rocking back and forth on his heels, and then he freezes. “Hey. Baby.”

“Hmm?” You’re distracted, looking around at the crowd in hopes that Jimin will show.

“Didn’t you say your father was a doctor?”

It’s a whirlwind after that, your brief panic wondering what might be wrong, the internal struggle to know if you should wake up your father or not, knowing he’ll ask what you’ve been doing out and about, waking your father and having Bambam lead you both to the dancer’s barracks, where you see Jimin sitting on the coffee table, getting up when Bambam bursts in with your father, who is carrying his doctor’s bag.

“What the fuck-” he hisses in a low voice, looking right at Bambam and not even acknowledging you.

Your father, for his part, rushes to the couch, where Sunmi is bundled in blankets but still shivering, sweat on her brow, and when your father yanks back the blanket you gasp because her right foot is dark purple and swollen.

For the first time, Jimin looks at you, and there’s nothing but dark fury in her eyes. “Get her out of here,” he demands, and Bambam’s mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“Jimin-” you start, and he scoffs, turns away from you, toward your father, thanking him for coming and explaining what happened, ignoring you as if you were never there at all.

You wait anxiously in the living quarters, and you wince when you hear Sunmi cry out as your father works on her ankle. It takes hours, and while you wait, Bambam explains what happened and you just cock your head, confused.

“Why didn’t she just see a doctor?”

Bambam frowns, but before he can answer Jimin is stalking into the room.

“Yeah, why didn’t she just see a doctor?” Jimin mocks, staring at you with glittering eyes. “It’s that easy, princess?”

You don’t know how to answer, your face feeling hot, and you want to look away but you can’t. “Explain it to me.”

Jimin laughs, bitter and low. “You’d never understand, Baby. We can’t all call daddy and have him throw money at the situation.”

“Jimin, she brought him here to help us, we should be kind-” Bambam protests, and Jimin waves a hand at him.

Jimin turns to you, takes your hand and even though his eyes are still glittering with anger, your breath catches in your throat at his touch.

You’re perched on the arm of a chair and he leans down slightly, brushes his lips just barely over the back of your hand, all the while looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, princess, for deigning to help us peasants,” he says, voice low and charming and absolutely dripping with venom.

Anger rises in your chest, tightening in your throat but you stay quiet, jerking your hand from his and looking away.

Your father tersely gives instructions to Jimin after both Sunmi and Jimin refuse a hospital, and Jimin nods, but you see his face fall when he says something about how she is not to bear weight on her ankle for six weeks at least.

Your father is escorting you out with a blank expression but you’re looking back at Jimin and he’s watching you with those dark, glittering eyes.

It’s only a few days before your father has to go back and visit Sunmi, and he’s barely spoken a word to you, angry that you hadn’t told him about your friendships with the staff, you suppose. You can’t bring yourself to care, you’re an adult and even if he’s paying your tuition, he doesn’t have the right to tell you with whom to spend your time.

You insist on going with him to check on Sunmi, and you do sit with her for a few moments before you hear Jimin and Bambam arguing.

“Can’t someone else do it?”

You know Jimin’s scoff well by now, it seems like that’s what he’d been doing most of the few weeks you’d known him.

“No, Bam, someone else can’t do it! No one else knows the routine, it’s a special stage for Sunmi and me. Maria’s on maternity leave and Sooyoung can’t learn it in two weeks on top of the final rehearsals for the final show.”

“Do what?” You ask softly, standing in the doorway and shutting Sunmi’s door behind you.

“Can’t go a week without princess butting her head in,” Jimin mutters, and you huff out a breath.

“It’s a special dance stage,” Bambam explains. “Sunmi is expected there and so far she’s been able to get out of rehearsals but if the performance doesn’t happen, the supervisor…” he trails off, and you fill in the gaps.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Can’t fix this with daddy’s money,” Jimin snaps.

“I wasn’t trying to-” you cry out, and then lower your voice. “I wasn’t trying to fix it, I just...I wanted to help.”

Jimin laughs. “Help? How? You shivered when I so much as brushed my hand across your hip when we danced.”

Bambam raises an eyebrow at that and you keep trying to fight down anger.

“I could...I could learn,” you insist.

“You are a dance instructor,” Bambam reminds him helpfully, and although Jimin is still incredulous, that's how it happens.

That’s how you start to spend three days a week at Jimin’s small bedroom, learning the steps to the most complicated dance you’d ever heard of. That’s how you start to fall in love with him.

I wanna know, oh

This is stupid, he thinks, over and over. This is so fucking stupid and it isn’t going to work and I’ll fail and Sunmi will be fired. Hell, I might be fired.

You keep stumbling in the heels you’d be required to wear for the dance and you’re taller than Sunmi so that throws off the whole performance and you only have just a touch of rhythm and you have an attitude and the list goes on and on.

The two of you are two weeks into rehearsals when it all comes to a head. You’d huffed out a long breath or given him a withering stare before, when he’d snapped at you or corrected your steps roughly, but usually you let it go.

There’s not enough room in his tiny space, and it’s not like the two of you were exactly friends, so it’s tense, for the most part.

One day, at the last rehearsal of the week, he spins you and you miss a step, stomp down on the top of his foot with your heel and he cries out and curses.

“This is never going to work,” he mutters when you try to help and you let out an annoyed almost growl that, in other circumstances, he might find kind of cute.

“You could give me a little goddamn credit, you know!” You yell, and he stops rubbing his foot and looks up at you.

Maybe he’d been a little dramatic, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d put on, but if that happened during the performance….

“Credit for what?” He bursts out.

You put your hands on your hips and you’re wearing this barely there white croptop and a flowing skirt and (not for the first time), he notices the swell of your hip, the outline of your breast.

“For one, bringing my father to help Sunmi-”

Jimin barks out a laugh at this, his eyes returning to your face. “Takes a real saint to call daddy-”

“Second,” you continue firmly, voice raising over his, “for working three days a week for hours to try and help you and your girlfriend keep your jobs!”

He opens his mouth to correct you but your voice keeps rising, your eyes full of fury.

“And last of all but most importantly, putting up with your constant bullshit! I can’t do anything good enough for you and I really just want to punch you and leave.”

Jimin pauses, stands up straight and looks at you for a moment. As much as he hates this situation he can’t let you quit. He needs you, more importantly Sunmi needs you, and he’ll never forgive himself if he fucks things up for his best friend because he can’t control his temper.

“Do it, then.”

Your eyes widen. “Do what?”

Jimin pats the middle of his chest. “Hit me, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You look at him incredulously.

He smirks at you, makes a little come hither gesture with his hands. “C’mon, princess. You scared?”

There it is, that flash in your eyes that he’s come to know well even during such a short time, and it makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand up.

You punch him, just at his diaphragm, weakly, and he laughs.

“C’mon, Baby. You can do better than that.” 

He takes a step closer and you just keep looking at him, your canine piercing your bottom lip, still breathing hard from the rehearsal.

He can’t deny it makes his dick twitch in his sweats, the fire in your eyes, the way he can see the outline of your erect nipples through that croptop.

He leans down closer to your face. “Still wonder if I could taste that silver spoon on your tongue,” he whispers, and then you slap him across the face, hard, making him stumble back with a laugh.

He nods, and you start to gasp out apologies but he holds up a hand. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

It’s been hot all week, and there’s on and off summer showers that come from nowhere. The thunder rumbles as you reach the parking lot and Jimin’s car, a clean but beat up Mustang. 

You dance around a bit as Jimin reaches into the pocket of his sweats for his keys but he curses instead. When you look in the window, cupping your hands, you see the keys in the ignition.

You sigh and stand up to tell Jimin but he’s removing his leather jacket and wrapping it around his fist as you watch, open mouthed.

He busts the back quarter window as if he’s reading the newspaper and unlocks the door, leaning over to pop your lock before cranking it up.

You stand there for a moment, shocked and oddly aroused.

“You coming?” He asks, looking up at you from the driver’s seat, and you scramble inside.

“You’re crazy,” you mumble as he pulls off at a speed that should have scared you but instead filled you with exhilaration. 

He looks over at you, as if confused. “What?”

“I said you’re fucking crazy!” You yell, laughing, and he starts to laugh too and you’ve never heard him like that, open and loud instead of derisive and bitter and there’s rain pouring into the back window but he doesn’t care and you can’t imagine ever feeling that free.

You have that feeling again, the one you’d had standing outside the barn with him, that energy like he’s wanting and hungry all the time and just like then, you want more.

You push that out of your head, though, he’s made it clear where his thoughts lie, and that’s with Sunmi. That’s the whole reason you’re doing this, to help her, help them. It’s certainly not because you just want to be near him, because even when he’s angry at you the way you feel with him makes you feel like you never have before, not because you want to memorize the bow of his lips, the line of his jaw, how his eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles.

“Where are we?” You finally ask when he’s pulled off into a clearing in the woods.

“You’ll see.” He grabs your hand and tugs you behind him and your heart skips a beat.

You end up practicing at the river for hours, and you ask questions and he answers them, about his family, how he started dancing, Juilliard and why he’s doing this job.

You’re not surprised that he wants more, he’s too good for this place and you can see it, even though you’re no expert.

He talks a lot more than he ever has, tells you so much about himself and you have fun, laughing and talking with him, he’s barely teaching you anything at all.

Finally, he’s sitting on a high log, swinging his legs and looking down at you as you sit on the shore.

“We haven’t practiced the lift because it’s best to practice in the water,” he says, and that’s how you end up waist deep with his eyes on yours and his hands on your hips.

“Ready?” He asks, quietly, as if there isn’t only the woods and the river and the birds to hear him.

You nod, your mouth dry, but then his hands slip up to your waist and you’re not sure you’re ready at all. Of course he’s touched you during rehearsals, here and there, but not like this, not this close.

“Jump,” he commands, and you do, think you’d have done anything he told you, but he lifts you up effortlessly and you try not to stare down at him as your heels lift off the riverbed, try to look ahead like he’s taught you but it’s impossible and when he lifts you over his head, telling you to hold the position, you go straight into the water, coming up sputtering.

He laughs, pulls you close, and does it again, and this time it works, this time you hold it and he slowly lowers you back down.

Your body slides down his, your nipples brushing his chest, his breath on your throat, and surely this is too close, surely you won’t be doing this on stage in front of people.

“Baby,” he murmurs, close to your ear, like it’s your name, and you shake your head.

“Call me Y/n.”

He says your name and you watch how his lips shape it before you tilt your chin to kiss him, pressing your mouth to his without thought, your lips parted.

His tongue in your mouth is hot, hungry just like you knew it would be, and your arms tighten around his neck. You hear the water moving and gasp into his mouth when you feel his hand slide up your thigh, under your skirt, sliding along the river water soaked crotch of your panties.

“Jimin,” you moan into his mouth, and he just kisses you harder, presses his hand harder against your cunt and you want more more more.

You’d imagined it, late at night, sore and exhausted from rehearsing and you could feel his hand on your hip as he’d turned you, slid your hands down your body imagining they were his, but this is so different, so much better than you’d ever dared to dream.

Suddenly, he pulls away from you, and you whine. 

“We should...we should get back,” he says, voice slightly hoarse, and he wades back to shore while you’re left wanting and aching.

would you be my girl?

You’re quiet in the car, your head spinning, and he doesn’t say a single word until he pulls back up.

“Want me to walk you back to the resort?” He asks quietly as he turns off the car.

You blink at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He doesn’t  look at you, his eyes down in his lap, and you open the door and slam it when you get out.

Jimin knows he should stay put. He should stay put for so many reasons. It’s too much drama, you’re a guest of the resort, you’re a little rich girl with daddy’s money, you deserve better.

But he sees your shoulders shaking and he can’t help himself from getting out, rubbing your shoulders as he leads you inside. You’re shivering now, it’s after sundown and you’re soaking wet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your shoulder. “I’ll get you some tea and some warm clothes.”

He turns to go and heat the kettle but you grab his wrist, tug him back.

“Nobody makes me feel the way you do,” you say in a quiet and shaking voice. “Even when we argue I-”

“Baby. Y/n. Don’t,” he pleads. He feels like he’s right on the edge of something, like he’d fall over with just a single push from you.

All these things are flashing through his head, moments where he’d let himself notice how he felt when you’d do this little growl in frustration when you missed a step, the way your mouth turned down at the corners when you were focused, how you set your jaw when he said something to make you angry. After just a few weeks he’s all but memorized the lines of your body and he’d blamed it on being focused on the performance but he knows somewhere that it’s something else, that you mean something else to him.

“Why?” You ask, sounding almost pained and he can’t stop looking into your eyes and he can’t speak either so he kisses you first this time, one hand at the nape of your neck to pull you close.

We aren’t from the same world, he should say. It won’t work and I’ll break your heart or you’ll break mine and I don’t know if I can take it.

He should say so many things but instead he says nothing at all, just kisses you and kisses you until you jump just like you did in the water, wrap your legs around his waist this time instead and he carries you to his bed, peels off your soaked clothes while you keep kissing him in between, his mouth, his throat, his chin, and it makes him laugh.

You’re bare beneath him and he doesn’t even realize that he still has his wet clothes on until he slides over you to kiss you again and you hiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and smiles at you and you blink, have this expression he can’t quite pinpoint. “I’m usually better at this,” he finishes after pulling off his tshirt, and you open your thighs with this slow smile.

“We’ve got time.”

His breath hitches in his throat because that’s probably not true, after tonight you’ll probably avert your eyes when he looks at you in public, come to him late at night like all the others.

Instead of saying that, he curses under his breath and looks down at you, slips his fingers through your slick, sliding two fingers inside you as you arch your back.

You’re so wet already and he’s barely touched you and it makes him groan.

“Look at you. Such a pretty baby,” he praises, moving his fingers because he loves the way your face goes slack, your mouth parted as you writhe against his hand.

“God,” you whimper, voice a little slurred. “Please.”

Jimin feels like he might burst before he even gets out of his sweats, wants to make you come before he does but you lock your legs around his waist, surprising him and he falls forward, catching himself on his palms.

Before he can catch his bearings you drag your tongue along his throat and he groans.

“Baby, you’re full of surprises.”

You smile against his mouth and push down his sweats with your feet and it makes him laugh again, he’s found himself biting back smiles so often with you that it feels good to let it out.

Then his cock is sliding against you and you’re so hot and wet that he bites down on your lip. You cry out softly and rock your hips against his, panting out his name and then he can’t do anything else but slide inside you, burying his face against your throat.

He thinks, too late, that he should have flipped you over, focused on your ass and the line of you spine instead of like this, looking down into your face and the way your eyes focus on his. He knows better, but you’re rolling your hips up to meet his and biting your lip and you keep moaning his name and he can’t stop now.

Your nails rake down his back and he leans up to fuck you harder, hoping to focus on your breasts bouncing instead of how pretty you look beneath him. 

“Baby,” he breathes. “I’m gonna-” 

He doesn’t get to finish because you’re making the prettiest sounds, moving your head from side to side and your cunt clenches around him like a vice.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

It’s been fast and sloppy and he’s almost embarrassed when he comes inside you, but you lock your ankles around the small of his back and pull him down again.

After he’s made that tea he promised earlier and you’re sitting crosslegged on his twin bed, facing him, you call his name softly.

“Hmm?” He asks, distracted by how you look now, your hair mussed, skin slightly flushed.

“Does my mouth taste like silver?”

He frowns until it hits him, what he’d said to you that first night, and then he’s laughing again and tackling you to plant kisses along the side of your face.

Jimin is gone when you wake up, leaving you a note to lock up. No heart drawn there, not even his full name, just a -J at the end. You assume he must feel guilty about Sunmi, assume maybe he never meant for things to go too far and now here you are, heartbroken, and you still have to keep your promises and finish rehearsals and this dance with him.

You stay in your room at the resort for two days, until your scheduled next rehearsal with Jimin, and you feel like you’ve cried enough that when you see him, it’ll be easier.

You walk into the studio already dressed in your leotard and shorts, and he’s standing at the record player and even the set of his shoulders looks stiff, and it makes your heart ache.

You don’t speak, just start taking off your sneakers to put on the heels that you have to practice in, and it’s Jimin who says your name, softly. 

Your real name, not Baby, not sweetheart, and it seems like all the tears you’ve cried the last two days are stuck in your throat.

You take a deep breath before looking up and the words come out before you know what you’re saying.

“I know you’re going to tell me that it was a mistake. I know you’re going to tell me you love Sunmi and I understand. Let’s just not, okay? Let’s just not talk about it because I’m embarrassed and I’m sad and I feel stupid-”

Jimin sits on the floor with you, moves close and presses his forehead to yours.

“I don’t love Sunmi. I mean...I’m not in love with her.”

Your heart does a backflip. “But I’m a mistake.”

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh, shakes his head softly, looking into your eyes.

“Jimin,” you whisper, and then he kisses you and you forgot what you were going to say.

There’s two weeks until the performance and you spend all of those days irrevocably in love with Park Jimin.

“Why do you stay?” You ask him one night while you’re lying with your head on his chest after he’d bent you over the arm of the recliner in his room, rough, and you love it but you  know he’s angry because they wouldn’t let him change the choreography of the final dance, wouldn’t let him do anything but teach old ladies the foxtrot.

He’s been stroking his fingers along your spine and you wonder if that was a stupid question when he freezes just for a moment.

“It’s not like it’s easy, Baby,” he says, simply.

“It should be,” you insist, and you press a kiss between his pecs, knowing it isn’t something you can understand.

You know you’re privileged, know that your father would flip his lid if he knew you were getting  fucked by the dance instructor four nights a week and most days too, because your father didn’t think he could provide for you. You’re sure that if he found out, your father would disown you and you’d lose your tuition money and your apartment back home.

So when you and Jimin are walking back to the resort from the studio, holding hands and laughing and you catch sight of your father in a golf cart, you gasp, tug Jimin’s hand to hide behind a nearby building.

Jimin lets you lead him there, doesn’t protest, but his face is like stone when your father passes and you can relax.

“Jimin-” you start.

“Tell me again how it should be easy, Baby,” he says, his voice like ice, and when you try to take his hand he pulls away. 

You make up, eventually, it only takes a day before Jimin gives in to your apologies, the kisses you plant along his shoulders while he’s trying to stretch before practice, but in the end, he’s right.

It’s not easy at all.

just a fool to believe

Jimin knew this thing with you wouldn’t last forever. In fact, he’d been preparing for the performance to be the last night, the last time he’d see you look at him like that. He starts to dread it, starts to stay awake later at night to watch you sleep so that he’d have more memories of your face pressed against his pillow.

He’s always known you’ll leave him, whether it’s in the middle of the night because you realize you can’t let your father find out, after the performance when you’ve done what you’ve said you would, or at the end of the summer, when you’d return home to your college and your friends. Hell, maybe even a boyfriend. He tried not to entertain that, it made his throat feel tight to wonder if you have some Ivy League jerk with a letter jacket waiting for you, but it’s crossed his mind.

He knows he’s not good enough for you, knows that if his own bosses can’t even use his real name to introduce him he’ll never have someone like you, not long term, anyway. He’s used to being someone’s dirty little secret, with this job.

He’s always thought that you’d leave him, but in the end he has to leave you.

You’re full of nerves, counting down the days to the performance, and it’s only three days away when Sunmi comes up to you, sweating on her crutches, and your eyes widen. She’d barely left her room, knows that if the supervisors find out it’s her foot instead of an illness like your father had told them, she’ll be cut from the team.

“Sumni, what-”

“Jimin’s gone,” she bursts out.

“No. No he’s not gone,” you say confidently, but you can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

Sunmi is near tears and she nods her head sadly. “He’s gone, they fucking fired him!” Her voice breaks and you put out a hand to steady her. It feels like you’re moving underwater.

“He wouldn’t leave without...without telling me,” you say, less confident with every word.

Why wouldn’t he? Why would he come to you, a summer fling, someone he doesn’t even know that well?

Because he loves me, you think. But does he? He hasn’t said it. He hasn’t made you any promises.

“What about the performance?” You ask, feeling like you’re floating farther away from her as you speak.

“They replaced him,” she chokes out, crying openly now, and you hug her, comfort her so that you don’t break down yourself.

You find out from Bambam why, and it’s all your fault. Apparently one of Jimin’s so called students had caught you and Jimin in the studio, seen you through the window and in a bout of jealousy reported him for “cavorting with a guest.” It was against the resort’s rules, even though Bambam says all of them had done it, at least once and usually more.

It doesn’t matter. Jimin had been caught and he’d lost his job and probably his tuition and it was all your fault. You’re like a zombie the last three days, your mother asks if you’re okay and your father keeps ignoring you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You can’t care about anything. You don’t have any idea where he lives, you can’t even write to him, and you lie in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about how he joked that your mouth must taste like the silver spoon you were born with and how it used to make you laugh.

The night of the performance, your mother demands that you go, dresses you in this stupid pink dress you’ve never liked and rolls your hair, and you’re picking at your food when they announce that the performance is about to start. You’re sitting in the corner, against the wall, hanging your head.

Tears are welling in your eyes as you hear the familiar opening bars, but then there’s a loud feedback sound as someone kills the microphone and you look up, startled.

Jimin is standing at your family’s table, wearing a white tshirt and jeans, a leather jacket, similar to the outfit you’d first seen him in, and you wonder for a moment if you’re dreaming.

Then he says your name. Your real name, not Baby, not sweetheart, and you blink up at him, shocked.

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” he says with a smirk, and takes your hand to pull you up.

this could be love

You don’t leave him after the final dance, like he’d thought, but he was right that it wasn’t easy. Nothing worth it ever was, he supposes. You run away with him, live in his tiny college dorm on his twin bed, and he still doesn’t think he deserves you. 

You still apologize for getting him fired from that shitty job and he still cops an attitude and tells you that you’re spoiled sometimes but it ends in hot and hungry kisses or an impromptu dance session around his record player.

It isn’t easy but he wants it, and so do you, and he hopes that in the end, that’s all you need.

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2    -    Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their  complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing,  "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of  dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word  out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.  

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

[ruhrohimrorny]

What Subjects I Think LOK Characters Would Teach:

Lin: PE, obviously. Dating Kya and all the kids are happy cause there’s a noticeable shift in Lin’s mood once they start dating. She no longer forces kids to run a mile every day and instead does it once a week now, so the kids are hoping her and Kya stay together. She also coaches Golf and Lacrosse.

Kya: Waffled between MILF Math teacher, MILF Science teacher, and hippy/chill Music teacher, but decided on MILF Science Teacher. Getting strong Biology vibes. Very fun labs and not strict at all. Her and Zhu-Li are super passionate about leading the Science Bowl team. Seeing these young people be so passionate about STEM and helping their fellow teammates makes her hopeful for this young generation.

Tenzin: He kinda gives math teacher vibes, but a large part of his character in the show is about him keeping his history alive, and teaching others abut learning and respecting history, so I feel like he’s a History teacher. His class is a lot of notetaking but he plays quiet music and does a five minute meditation in the middle of class to encourage kids to relax, so students really like him and actually listen to him. Also, he’s kind of gullible so they make up fake trends to tell him. He once spent a week addressing people as “brony” cause students told him thats what people say now instead of bro. Kids got a good laugh out of that one. Him and Pema are another favorite teacher couple.

Bumi II: Def gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes. Very interesting and informative conversations in his class, but things get off topic very quickly. Whenever kids ask about Bum-Ju, he gets distracted and will talk the entire rest of the period about what to dress Bum-Ju up as for Halloween. Probably plays a lot of videos. And students don’t worry about if they read the books Bumi II assigns cause they don’t think he’s even read the books he assigns. When having discussions about the books in class, sometimes kids will make up stuff and say it’s in the book and for the most part, Bumi II goes along with it cause he doesn’t know what actually happens in the books.

Varrick: Also gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes, but because he’s a businessman/war profiteer, I’m gonna have to say he teaches Econ and gives students lots of unsolicited financial advice. Also supervises the Engineering and Robotics Club.

Zhu-Li: Science teacher, probably Chemistry. She’s very good at explaining and getting kids to follow her instructions. Not only is she a co-supervisor for the Science Bowl team, she helps Varrick run Engineering and Robotics Club, cause if it were only Varrick running it, no kids would come. His intensity and eccentricity scares them.

Iroh II: He’s definitely the young Math teacher everyone has a crush on. Very chill and doesn’t give a lot of homework. Kids love when he shows pictures of his dog to the class and eventually he brings in the dog cause admin think the dog is too cute to say no to.

Tonraq: Resident DILF History teacher. Kind of a hardass but also a nice dude so most everyone passes his class. Probably that History teacher that is also a football coach, so during fall he doesn’t give a FUCK about whether anyone actually turns anything in. Him and Senna is the teacher couple that seems like opposites but actually are pretty similar and balance each other out.

Senna: That English teacher that every mentally ill student becomes emotionally attached to. You know what I’m talking about. She’s so sweet, funny, and chill so all the kids love her class. Tries to include memes in her presentations to seem “with it” but they’re like, doge memes from 2014. But the kids appreciate the effort.

Pema: Definitely the sweet English teacher that occasionally has a mental breakdown when the students test her patience. Otherwise very chill. Also teaches the Childhood Education and Development class. Her, Senna, and Bumi II run the school newspaper.

Bataar: Drafting. Pretty chill, very skilled, and def smokes on the weekend. Also, him and Suyin are that teacher couple that everyone likes.

Suyin: Dance. Super nice and always has like to of those smelly plug in things going so her room smells good and has a “good vibe that evokes emotion”. Always plays EDM or weird 80s rock to get the kids moving. She runs the school dance team. When Bataar has prep period, he sometimes drops in to see Su dance, cause she’s mesmerizing to watch. All the kids think that, coupled with the fact that they eat lunch together every day, makes them the cutest couple ever.

Amon: Drama. He loves directing kids on how to totally live a role. If you can imagine, he sometimes gets a little overdramatic about drama, forgetting that these are just highschool kids, not Oscar winners, but his passion makes the class more enjoyable. Runs Drama Club with Tarrlok.

Tarrlok: Probably Physics. A difficult class, but he’s pretty good at explaining so most kids don’t struggle too much. His main focus is running student government, which he takes pretty seriously. Sometimes too seriously.

Unalaq: Teaches Psychology. The most pretentious teacher on campus. It’s literally so bad, that even other teachers avoid him. Amon abandoned his coffee still being brewed in the machine in the staff room cause Unalaq walked in and he didn’t want to be in a room with Unalaq again after he said that Amon’s outfit “looked like something stolen from the lost and found of a funeral home”. Unalaq sees it as “telling it like it is”.

Zaheer: Government and Politics. Tries to teach the class very well but also injects his own opinion into teaching a lot. The students find him scary but some also kinda think he’s hot. Also does Yearbook. Him and Senna run Mock Trial. Replaced the old Government and Politics teacher Hou-Ting after she retired. She was that one old teacher that made it a hobby to harrass students and constantly reminisced about when you could smack students.

P’Li: Math teacher. Much scarier than Zaheer. Plays her trash ass music very loudly while the kids work. Def yells at kids. She’s kind of funny when she’s in a good mood tho, and when she roasts kids it’s really funny cause it’s usually dead on. Her and Zaheer are those teachers that flirt a lot and you know they’re sleeping together.

Ming-Hua: Art. Loves drawing and, you guessed it, watercolor painting. Very chill and plays soft music but lets you listen to your own music. Super sarcastic and all the students eat it up. Literally a universal favorite. She runs Art Club and Fashion Club.

Ghazan: Guitar. Pretty cool teacher that definitely has some weird stories. All the students know he has a crush on Ming-Hua cause they flirt constantly, but he denies it. Runs E-Sports Club. Idk why I think that, it just feels right. Him and Ming-Hua are also the kinds of teachers kids become emotionally attached to.

Kuvira: Government and Politics also. Seems calm and reasonable, but is a total ass. Makes kids give up their phones, allows almost no talking, gives out more detentions a week than most teachers do in one year, and doesn’t allow for much discussion. Everyone wants her class cause she’s hot but most drop within the first week, to the point that counselors have to say no to some kids so they don’t have to get rid of the class altogether.

Bataar Jr.: Computer Lit teacher. None of the students respect him so they’ll play Minecraft the whole time or play inappropriate videos really loud. Doesn’t really put much effort into teaching, which for some kids is a dream, but for others is an annoyance. Him and Kuvira are the teacher couple that makes everyone say “wtf”. Literally no one knows why they’re together.

Izumi: Secretary/Attendance. Pretty much remembers everything and is super organized. She is the glue that holds the school together. Most students don’t know her name though cause she’s super quiet and works mostly behind the scenes. Whenever Zuko sends anyone her way though he reminds them of her name and to say thank you cause he recognizes how hard his daughter works to keep everything running smoothly. Izumi catches on to this and always manages to thank her dad with a nice tea and a hug.

Toph: Vice Principal. Scary as fuck. Doesn’t ever call kids’ parents cause she efficiently scares the shit out of every kid, so they never do whatever bad thing they were doing again. When she has to work dances, Katara always tries to get her to dance with her. She resists every time, but she always gives eventually. She’s happy to though, cause although she’ll never say it out loud, seeing Katara this happy at her old age warms her heart.

Katara: Health Clerk. Very sweet and everybody loves her. Sometimes kids pretend to feel sick just to talk to her. She doesn’t mind though cause a kid that has a tummy ache and a kid that needs to talk are both kids that need help, and she’s happy to offer whatever support she can. She also always offers to supervise dances when the school has them and always manages to bust a move.

Zuko: Counselor. Wants to be to students what his uncle was to him. Aang and Sokka were counselors too, some years ago. And while they could give some good nuggets of advice and offered the kids amazing support, they also would totally fuck up student’s schedules by accident cause those numbskulls were exactly that- numbskulls. So usually Zuko would have to fix that. He misses fixing their messes and, more importantly, he misses them (they aren’t dead, just retired). He hopes to retire soon too, cause he’s getting too old for this, but he secretly doesn’t want to retire just yet cause working at school allows him to see and spend time with Izumi. Since they’re both working, it’s not like they have too much time together, but even just her popping into his office to bring him tea or check in on how he’s doing that day brings a smile to his face that doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

Raiko: Principal. After Toph stepped down cause she’s “too old for this shit” (her words), Raiko stepped in. The students aren’t a fan of him but he’s not terrible. And since Toph is still Vice Principal, she keeps him in check.

[browncoatparadox]

That’s the Highway That’s the Best

The Murderbot discord talked about a modern road trip AU for MB & ART and I ended up writing 1.7k when I was supposed to be doing homework. Title from “Route 66″ because why not.

I’m travelling across the desert in my van and I am completely and utterly bored. The radio cut out a couple miles back, and I’ve listened to every CD in here with Iris about a thousand times. I would look over some of the data I’ve collected, but I need to keep my eyes on the road even though there’s no one else around. The only thing that adds any variety is the occasional interesting rock formation, which doesn’t really catch my attention. I’m not a geologist, and even if I was stopping to study these would only make this trip take even longer. I sigh as I adjust my mirrors for something, anything to do, and see another figure by the road. This one’s closer, almost on the pavement itself. I idly wonder how long it’s been there. Was the road built next to it, or was it deposited later? It takes me an embarrassingly long time (about five seconds) for me to realize that the rock is moving. Specifically, it’s holding out a thumb and waving with its other arm. A hitchhiker, out in the middle of the desert, absolutely covered in dust, wearing a battered backpack and an irritated expression.

I pull up. This person doesn’t look like much of a threat, and even if they are I can take care of myself. That’s why my parents let me do the four-day drive back to the University on my own. Well, that and the fact that they were busy with some of their… “extracurricular” activities. I roll down the window, taking in the figure before me.

“I need to get to RaviHyral,” the person says, and- holy shit. Upon closer inspection they’re tiny. I know I’m big, but this kid looks like they weigh less than a helium balloon. They’ve clearly been out here for a while, drenched in sweat and sand. There’s a bandage wrapped around their leg, and their long hair drapes over their eyes. In short, they look like someone’s who’s had a rough time lately. They look me over skeptically, glancing each way as if they’re checking for someone else. I’d know better than anyone that, at least in the direction I’m coming from, I’m all they’ve got if they want to get out of the sun.

“Hop in,” I say, unlocking the passenger door. The kid slinks in, hugging their backpack close as they buckle their seatbelt. I reach into the back and rummage for a water bottle. When I turn my focus back, the kid’s hunched against the door. They shake their head when I offer them the bottle, pulling a canteen out of their bag. I shrug and turn the engine back on, sighing as I feel the air conditioning kick in. The kid exhales a bit as well (and I should probably call them something else, but there’s no way they’re older than me and it’s not like I know anything about them). The van starts moving back down the road, and I look over at my passenger.

The kid puts on headphones and starts listening to… something. If I really focus, I can make out music, something melodramatic, and people talking over it. I’m concentrating so hard on trying to make out the words that I don’t realize I’m leaning towards the kid until the kid shoves me. The kid glares. I glare back. The kid shrinks into the seat. Fuck. I didn’t mean to do that.

“What are you listening to?” There, hopefully that will clarify my curiosity. And make it so that I’m not just sitting in silence again, but this time with a mystery right next to me.

The kid says, “Episode 373 of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. The colony supervisor…”  The kid’s voice trails off. “It’s kind of complicated. If you want to listen, I could put on a new show? Then we could start from the beginning?”

I nod enthusiastically, rummaging through the compartment in front of me for an aux cord. If the kid doesn’t want to talk, then at least I’ll have something new to listen to. I hand it to the kid, who plugs it into their battered iPod and presses play for something labelled as Worldhoppers. A bombastic horn flourish plays out, and I notice the kid start to relax as the characters begin to talk. It quickly becomes less of a concern to me, though, because apparently the kid has fantastic taste in media. The kid smiles a little when I look at them after the credits roll. “Next episode?”

We listen to four episodes of Worldhoppers in between where I picked up the kid and the nearest gas station. I pull over, enjoying the chance to stretch my legs. The kid sits on the hood of the car, legs kicking, as I go to refill the tank. “So, what are you doing in fuck-knows-where, ART?”

“Art?” I ask. I have no idea where that could have possibly come from.

The kid shrugs. “Short for Asshole Road Tripper. You didn’t give me your name.”

I wince a bit. In my defense, I’m not used to introducing myself to people. Most of the people I hang out with have known me since I was adopted, and those that don’t have talked to Iris first. Anyways, it’s not like they’ve given me their name either. “ART works. Just don’t talk about me with binary pronouns- it/its preferably, but if you’re uncomfortable with that they/them is fine.”

The kid startles a little bit, opens their mouth like they’re going to ask a question, and then shuts it again. I’m hoping that means that they aren’t going to start anything with me over my gender. Good. I’d hate to kick out the kid in the middle of the desert, even if they didn’t have what was quickly turning into my favorite show. I give the kid five dollars to get something to eat while I wait by the van. If they want to ditch me, they can. Even with the shelter of the gas station, they’re miles from RaviHyral and night’s coming. I doubt the kid’s going to want to be out when it starts to get cold, especially with the shorts that they’ve been wearing.

The kid comes back. I pretend not to notice them pocketing the change. They scramble into their seat as I close the fuel tank. By the time I settle into place, the intro to Worldhoppers is already playing. I turn the ignition, patting the wheel as my van rumbles to life, and head back onto the road.

The sun sets. I roll down my window and look out at the sky, even though the air has become frigid. I love the stars out here. They’re the best thing about the desert, so close that I can almost touch them. The kid looks out too, eyes widening as they take in the Milky Way splayed above us. It almost feels like flying through space, like my van is a starship travelling between worlds instead of a beat-up camper travelling to a nowhere mining town.

We ran out of episodes an hour ago. The kid had put the finale episode back on after we finished it (which I, for one, greatly appreciated, considering the sheer amount of chaos in that episode), but now we’re just sitting together in silence.

“How’d you end up out here?” I’ve been thinking about this in between Worldhoppers episodes, and while I have a hypothesis of my own I want to know what the kid’s going to say.  

They hesitate for a moment. “The last car I was in broke down. I ended up going ahead while the driver waited for a tow truck.”

I look at the kid. “I meant before that.”

They grimace. I think about the news alert that was on the radio right before the signal began to deteriorate, about a group of scientists who had found traces of radioactive waste during their biological survey, and a local teen who had helped them find evidence linking the materials to the GreyCris Mining Corporation. About how said local teen had disappeared after being checked out from the hospital, having been shot by GreyCris’s guards.  

The kid sighs, and explains the story. It lines up with what I know. I notice that they don’t mention the injury on their leg, but decide not to push it now. I’ve got a full medical kit in the back that I can use to fix it up when we stop for the night. 

I’m really not liking the situation. I didn’t like it earlier, when I just thought they might be a kid travelling alone through the desert. I ignore the part of me that points out that I’m technically also a kid travelling alone through the desert. My family knows, if not specifically where I am, my general itinerary, and they know that I can look out for myself. Plus, I’ve got a van. This kid has no one, and it sounds like they may be in the kind of trouble that my family can help with. If they need a new identity, a place where they can hide from GreyCris, I can help with that.

I don’t want to press them, but I’m this close to passing by RaviHyral and taking them back to the University with me.

“What do you need to do in RaviHyral?” I ask. I’m not planning on leaving them there alone. If they’re just headed to the nearest town, I can take them somewhere safer.

The kid looks at me, really looks, their eyes taking in everything about me and tallying it all up in their head. They make some sort of mental calculation, nod to themselves, and take a shaky breath.

“I need to find one of my old foster homes,” they say quietly. “I need to figure out what happened to me there.”

My brain runs through all of the possible meanings of that statement. This kid isn’t trying to hide their identity. They’re trying to find it.

Fuck it. My family won’t be too upset if I show up a few days late.

[laurenairay]

Take a Chance - D. Hamilton

Word Count: 12.7k

Summary: Ashley Miller is a Sunday-morning regular at her local coffee shop. Dougie Hamilton is the associate art curator who catches her eye.

Warnings: coffee shop au, some bad language, a lot of cute fluff, anxiety

A/N: This is my @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange fic for @huttons​! I had a lot of fun researching & creating this fic gift, and I tried to incorporate all of the preferences you stated and that we discussed. This is very self-indulgent too, definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, and I’m not going to go into the very niche research rabbit holes I fell down! Bringing this OC to life made me so happy, and I had a blast incorporating the coffee shop au element. I hope you enjoy this! 💚

Also tagging @danglesnipecelly​, @texanstarslove​ and @itsbadgerbadgermushroom​ because they all listened to me stress while writing hah.

*

“Large latte for Ashley!”

Ashley Miller looked up from her laptop, smiling at her favourite barista at the counter. She got up from her table, leaving her laptop and scone briefly as she collected her drink, before heading back to her seat. Sunday mornings were the same every week – arrive at Storm Surge coffee shop when they opened at 7am, park herself at a table in the back corner, and consume a steady flow of coffee as she worked. Sure, her work might vary – teaching Medieval History at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill meant her lesson topics were all over the spectrum – but she just found that everything from writing notes for her classes that week to marking essays at the end of the semester became easier if she had the thrum of the coffee shop around her.

That, and she knew she’d just spend her entire weekend burrowed in her house if she didn’t get out.

Having moved to Raleigh 6 years ago to undertake her PhD, Ashley had accepted a teaching job at the very same university she’d studied at when she’d completed her studies a year ago, and she hadn’t looked back since. There was just something about Raleigh that she had fallen in love with, only a 30 minute drive away from her workplace, something that had spoken to her very soul, and actually being able to pass on knowledge about the subject that she was so passionate about made her so incredibly happy. Sure, her parents had never understood her love for 11th to 13th century European history (nor anyone else from her small town in South Dakota) but Ashley had never cared about that – New York had given her the opportunity to grow as a person during her undergraduate and postgraduate degrees, but Raleigh had given her the opportunity to thrive.

And she would forever be grateful for that.

Sundays though…Sundays were something she cherished. This independent coffee shop had been a blessing when she’d found it early on in her PhD research, and they had never complained about her taking up a table for essentially the whole day (and she did pay for each of the many coffees she consumed). Baristas and bakers had come and gone over the past 6 years, but there were a couple that had stuck around recently - and a year ago when she officially became ‘Dr Ashley Miller’, her favourite barista Andrei had even given her a piece of chocolate cake on the house to celebrate. Storm Surge coffee shop was a home away from home.

Of course, there was another reason that Sunday coffee shop time was one of her favourite things in her week…

Tall Cute Guy.

He was a regular every Sunday morning, and had been for the past year - three Sundays a month he would order a mocha and an americano to go, but one Sunday a month he would come in an hour earlier and order just an americano, and drink it in the shop instead while reading an old paperback book. Every single time, like clockwork.

Okay, yes, that sounded a little stalkerish. But he was so cute. Ashley pretty much always had her earphones in playing music so she had never caught his name, but his blonde curls, pretty blue eyes and warm smile had caught her eye straight away. And he was so tall, she couldn’t have missed him if she’d tried. She’d never spoken to him, never even said hi in passing, but occasionally she would link eyes with him and he would smile at her. And that smile was enough to send her heart fluttering. Ridiculous really, but it brought her a little joy.

What was the harm in smiling back at a cute guy every now and again, right?

*

Dougie Hamilton walked into the North Carolina Museum of Art with a smile on his face. To be honest, it could’ve been for a multitude of reasons. His career was finally heading upwards, having moved museums to become Associate Curator of European Art a couple of years ago, and he loved his work. He had recently renovated his kitchen, which was now looking pretty sleek and awesome, if he did say so himself. His colleagues had genuinely become some of his closest friends, and he had a standing monthly poker night with several of them. But his smile today wasn’t because of any of that.

No, his smile today was because it was Sunday morning, and he’d just picked up his regular coffee order for him and his boss.

Speaking of…

“So, did you finally talk to your coffee shop crush, or did you just awkwardly stare at her like a weirdo again?”

“Oh fuck off,” Dougie grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up in a fierce blush as his boss Jordie’s words.

It was far too early for this – he’d only just walked into their shared office for fuck’s sake! Jordie just hooted laughter at his embarrassment as he took his mocha from Dougie, making Dougie groan. “One day you’re going to have to talk to her, man. It’s just getting sad now,” Jordie teased.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t we have a museum to open?” Dougie scowled.

Jordie just beamed even more, wiggling his eyebrows as he left their office. Dougie groaned again, running his hands through is unruly hair before he sighed. Coffee shop crush. Hah. Jordie wasn’t wrong though. Not really. His crush…Mystery Laptop Woman…was one of the reasons he always volunteered to pick the two of them up coffee before the museum opened up on a Sunday morning. Jordie had come along with him only once to pick up their coffee, about 6 months ago, and ever since then he hadn’t let Dougie’s shy smile at her go. Of course, Dougie barely knew anything about her – only that she was always in early on a Sunday, always completely consumed by her work, and she had such a super cute concentration face, whatever it is that she worked on. He could never quite tell – sometimes she had a book or two with her, sometimes it was a stack of papers – but he knew for sure that she appeared to mainline coffee like a pro. Probably some kind of teacher?

He’d certainly never had a teacher that beautiful, that was for sure.

Her long dark hair was always down and always a little messy, like she ran her hands through it often (which she did, he’d noticed). Her warm hazel eyes were hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses, and her lips were always coloured in varying shades of dark pink and red. He’d only seen her standing a couple of times, but he’d caught enough of a glimpse of her long legs to have some very inappropriate thoughts. She just looked so kind, so friendly…and so beautiful. Dougie had never been able to catch her name though – she’d always had a full coffee or at least half a coffee left whenever he was in the shop, so he couldn’t even find out sneakily that way. But whoever she was, whatever she did, when he occasionally got lucky enough for her to look at him, her smile made his entire body light up like a fireworks show. It was a bit pathetic really, how much just a smile from her made his entire day, but he was a year into it now and he wasn’t going to stop that for anything. He had a great career, some great friends, and a pretty great life, even if he was tragically single.

What was the harm in smiling at a beautiful woman whenever he got the chance, right?

*

“Alright, we’ve nearly run out of time now, but just one final thing I want you to think about for Monday’s love in the middle ages class,”

On cue, her students groaned, making Ashley grin.

“Hey, I’m giving you a head’s up here – I could just let you walk into our general lecture blind?” she shrugged, teasing.

That got her a few laughs at least. She’d take that.

“Okay, so we know through our focus on the Medieval Expansion of Europe that one of the biggest tales about Eleanor of Aquitaine in the latter half of the 1100s was of her role in the courts of love. What I want you all to look into is whether these courts of love have the possibility of being a real thing, or whether they feed into the chivalric notions of her contemporaries and were fabricated from the courtly love dynamics of knights and maidens. Just to give us some talking points, okay?”

Her students murmured their agreement, with most of them writing down a reminder. That would have to be good enough for her. At least this way, hopefully someone would discuss the talking points with her in class – she’d found out the hard way last year that there was nothing worse for a university professor than completely uninterested students. She needed something to feed off.

“Alright then, class dismissed. Have a great weekend everyone!”

Ashley moved to her laptop, switching off the projected powerpoint presentation as her students filed out of the classroom, but jumped in shock slightly as she noticed the head of her department sitting in the back corner. How long had he been there?! What was he doing there in the first place? She just hoped her smile didn’t look as nervous as she felt, as he walked up to the front of the room.

Rod Brind’Amour was a legend in the History department for a good reason. His knowledge of military history pre-1800s was unmatched by anyone, but it was his research on the first and second crusades that had inspired Ashley through much of her PhD. Sure, he wasn’t her direct supervisor, but their work interlinked enough that she’d spent many office hours with him debating the second crusade with fervour. For such a big man, he was such a nerd, and he’d made her feel so welcome as soon as he offered her the teaching position at the end of her PhD, with the promise that she would be able to continue her research to inspire future minds. She had been so moved by his words that she hadn’t hesitated to accept the job. How could she not, when someone of his calibre believed in her?

One year in, she wasn’t regretting it at all

“Very smart, setting up some talking points for Monday’s class. I’m so glad I volunteered you to run this year’s Love in the Middle Ages lectures. You’re much better at them than I was,” Rod mused.

Ashley snorted, rolling her eyes playfully. Oh thank god. It’s true that this seminar was one part of the large mandatory Medieval and Early Modern Studies course…but it suited her perfectly.

“That’s because my research focuses on Medieval Queens and the exchange of power they brought to their marriage countries, whereas yours is the effect of each of the crusades through military history. Bleurgh,” she snickered, “Linking today’s Medieval Expansion of Europe class with the generic Love in the Middle Ages lectures on Mondays is just easy,”

“Speak for yourself,” Rod laughed, “give me military tactics any day,”

Ashley just grinned. Some things never changed. “Was there anything you wanted in particular?” she asked, packing up her laptop into its case.

“Just wanted to check in with you, in general,” Rod shrugged, sitting down on the edge of her desk.

Ashley couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness. “I’m doing okay yeah, thanks. Last year’s first semester was more of a struggle for sure, but I don’t have that transition from PhD student and TA to full teaching this time round. I’ve definitely settled in quicker – and this batch of freshman feel a lot more engaged already,”

“That’s good! It definitely shows that you’re handling things well,” Rod nodded, smiling back at her, “But I meant in your life outside of the university too,”

Ashley frowned. What? “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

Rod laughed softly at her expression. “I know last year you were trying to find your stride, but this year you’ve already got it, so I’m just checking that you’ve got things balanced outside of work too. It’s far too easy to make teaching your entire life – and I don’t want you to burn out,” Rod explained. “I value you here too much for that,”

Ashley’s heart melted a little at his concern, but she just shook his head. “I may not have much going on for me outside of work, but I do get out. I spend my Sundays in a local coffee shop,” she admitted.

Her mind briefly flashed to Tall Cute Guy, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind before she started blushing. So not appropriate for work.

Rod frowned slightly, but nodded. “At least you’re getting out of the house. Just promise me you’ll work on finding time for yourself too?”

“I promise,” Ashley nodded, “I intend to be here for a long time, so I definitely don’t want to burn out,”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Rod grinned, “I’d better get going – see you at the faculty meeting later?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ashley grimaced.

Rod just laughed at her disgruntled face, lifting his hand in a wave as he left the room. As she packed the rest of her belongings, Ashley couldn’t help but to think over Rod’s words. Was she in danger of a burn-out? Surely not, so early on in her career? Maybe she did need more of a balance in her life…but how?

*

Another Sunday, another early morning. Sure, Ashley could give herself a lie in every now and again, but that would mean not being able to relax on her Sunday evening, to not have the chance to unwind and reset before the working week starts up again on Monday morning. Spending all weekend in her little 2 bed house wouldn’t do her any good, even as comforting as she’d made it.

Besides, Storm Surge coffee shop was such a part of her routine now, that it would feel wrong to not go in at her usual time. Seeing Andrei the morning barista, Marty the supervisor and Jaccob the baker (who occasionally popped his head out) always made her happy – and as Rod said only a couple of days ago, she needed to make sure she actually kept a balance in her life.

So, as always, just after 7am, Ashley walked through the coffee shop door. She’d skipped eating any breakfast this morning, intent on getting one of the shop’s amazing scones fresh out of the oven, and as soon as she spotted her favourite blueberry-lemon scones in the display, something in her chest settled. Yes, this was exactly why she came every week. This feeling of home.

“Good morning Ashley! Your usual latte?”

Ashley smiled at Andrei, nodding. “Yes please. And one of the blueberry-lemon scones!”

Andrei smiled even wider, if that was possible, and immediate set about inputting her order into the cash register. It was then that she noticed something new on Andrei’s nametag. A pink sparkly kitten sticky. Huh. That was new.

“Nice sticker,” she teased.

“Very sparkly, no? Marty gave it to me,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, Marty did huh?” Ashley grinned.

Interestingly, Andrei blushed. She knew she hadn’t been imagining things. The poor Russian guy just blushed harder, spluttering incoherently, until Ashley took pity on him. It wasn’t like she could be mean to Andrei – he was just too adorable.

“I think the sticker is really cute, Andrei. It was sweet of Marty to give it to you,” Ashley said with a fond smile.

“Thank you! I will tell Marty you like it,” Andrei beamed.

Bless him.

Andrei handed her a scone on a plate, allowing her to go to her usual table in the back corner, setting up her laptop while she waited for her coffee to be ready. She heard a door out the back open, and Andrei quickly slipped away, making her smile.

“AHHHHHHHHHH MR SVECHNIKOV!”

Marty. Ashley just giggled, shaking her head before putting her earphones in for her background music. Yeah, this coffee shop definitely felt like home.

She quickly got lost in writing her lecture notes, going off on tangents that she knew she’d have to rein in later when she edited. It was a full hour before she even looked away from her screen, only to see the shop busy and bustling, every single table full. What the hell? She looked over to see both Andrei and Marty working the counter, only confirming her suspicions that they really had gotten busy while she was lost in her thoughts. Wow. Full at 8am was a new one for sure. Maybe a convention of some kind?

And it was then that she saw Tall Cute Guy walk in. Today he was wearing a pretty blue sweater, bring out the beautiful blue in his eyes, making her smile on instinct. So cute. But then she noticed him being given just the one coffee…he was planning on drinking in, and there were no tables? No!

It made her heart clench to watch him looking around the coffee shop, becoming more and more disheartened…until he noticed her. Maybe, could she, yes. Ashley bit her bottom lip but tilted her head towards the empty chair at her table, earning the biggest smile. She actually did it. She actually offered him the chair at her table. Shit. Her heart started beating faster as he walked over, and she took her earphones out as he came to a stop next to her seat, looming over her.

“I, uh…do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked softly.

Huh. Such a gentle voice on such a big man. Yeah she could totally handle this.

“Please, go ahead,” Ashley nodding, smiling as she waved her hand to indicate, “it’s so busy in here today,”

Oh no. Was that too forward, acknowledging that they’re both regulars?

“Definitely busier than usual, eh?” he mused, “I’ll try not to disturb your work, I’ll only be here for about an hour,”

Ashley laughed, but shook her head. She was just glad he hadn’t been weirded-out by her acknowledgement. That would’ve been so awkward. Her stomach was filled with enough butterflies as it was. “You won’t disturb me, I promise. Sit as long as you like,”

He smiled widely at her, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down, Ashley just quickly shuffling her papers out of the way for him. He nodded his thanks at her, pulling a paperback book out of his satchel. Then he cleared his throat, so she looked up at him curiously.

“I’m Dougie, by the way,” he said, almost a little shy.

Dougie. That was a nice name. Oh, wow, she finally knew his name! Ashley couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’m Ashley,”

He smiled back at her. “It’s nice to meet you properly,” he said happily.

Ashley just laughed, nodding as she blushed lightly. To have him acknowledge their smiling-from-a-distance definitely sparked something inside of her. Nice to finally meet him indeed.

They sat in comfortable silence, Ashley typing up her tangent notes so far for the morning, and she couldn’t help the feeling of contentment that sat in her chest. The cute guy she’d been smiling at for a year was sitting at her table with her…and it wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, it was really quite nice. And he’d introduced himself!

No, cool it, keep calm Ashley. No-one got anywhere by acting like a giddy schoolgirl. Play it cool.

That promised hour flew by far too quickly. Every now and again she would glance up and find his eyes on her. Every now and again she would glance up only for him to look up and catching her looking. Every time she would blush. Every time he would send her a wonderful smile. But all too soon her table companion was standing up and putting his book in his bag.

“Um…”

Ashley looked up from her work at him, a smile naturally spreading across her face at his nervous expression. Why was he nervous?

“Yes, Dougie?” she said softly, smiling at a little more at finally getting to say his name.

Dougie. Dougie. Dougie.

“I’ll see you soon?” he said, almost hopefully.

“I’ll be here,” she nodded.

Oh god. Well that was stupid. Of course she’d be here. Why couldn’t she just act smoothly for once in her life?

But then Dougie smiled, such a happy little smile that it made her breath catch in her throat.

“Until next time then,” Dougie murmured, “Bye, Ashley,”

“Bye,” she breathed, watching him walk way.

Well, that could’ve been worse. What a Sunday.

*

Things felt different after that fateful Sunday. Dougie (she knew his name!) hadn’t sat down with her again, or even sat in the shop again yet, but now…now he always made a point of waving at her, waiting until she had waved back to smile. Those waves sent her into even more of a tizzy, a light blush always on her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but cherish them. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, but he was so handsome and he noticed her. It didn’t hurt to pretend it was more than friendly acknowledgement, right? A girl could dream at least.

It was only Wednesday today, but that meant only one thing. Her weekly phone call with her mom. Knowing Susan Miller, Ashley could picture exactly what her mom was doing. Her phone would be propped up on speakerphone while she pottered around the kitchen, finishing off making dinner while also planning what desserts to bake at the weekend. Her mom led a simple life, a retired teacher herself (although she’d taught at the local elementary school rather than ever leaving town), but it was a happy life. And it was these phone calls that were the only thing that made Ashley miss home.

Nothing was the same as a hug from her mom with a slice of homemade apple pie. But those were the sacrifices she made for her love of Medieval History. They never stayed on the for more than half an hour, but it was just enough to fill Ashley’s heart, at least for a little while.

“And I swear, if he doesn’t stop leaving those nasty cigar butts on the front porch, I’m going to whoop some sense into him!”

“You’ve been saying this for over 20 years mom – I don’t think dad is going to change at this point,” Ashley mused, rolling her eyes fondly.

Her dad had been set in his ways for as long as she could remember. Nothing was going to change that, not even a little nagging from the love of his life.

“Yes, well, he could at least clean up after himself,”

Her parents really were ridiculous human beings – but they loved each other, and that was all that mattered. Even if her dad didn’t clean up his cigar butts.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you weren’t complaining about his cigar butts,” Ashley grinned. “Maybe threaten not to make that corned beef hash he likes. That might help,”

The laughter that flowed down the phone made her smile even more. Fuck she missed hearing her mom’s laugh in person.

“Oh I miss you sweetpea. Are you sure you’re okay down there by yourself?”

“Yes mom, you know I love my work and my life down here,” Ashley said, sighing softly.

Here we go again.

“I just worry about you rattling around in that old house by yourself!”

Rude. It wasn’t that old.

“I promise I’m fine!” Ashley insisted.

Her mom stayed silent, making Ashley bite her lip to stop herself getting frustrated. Her mom would come out with it eventually…

“I worry about you being lonely, that’s all. You’re such an introvert, you always have been,”

And there it was.

“How could I be lonely mom? I have great colleagues that I talk with. And I’m around students all day and I interact all the time with them! And the baristas at my coffee shop know me by name and we chat too,” Ashley listed.

“The baristas don’t count, Ash,”

Poor Andrei. He definitely counted. Ashley couldn’t help but giggle at the sigh in her mom’s voice though. “Okay maybe not, but there is a guy that I’ve talked to,”

“Ooh a guy?”

Oh no. Oh what had she done? She had to nip this in the bud now.

“No, mom, not like that, just a friendly face to wave at,” Ashley insisted.

Dougie’s shy smiles filled her mind, but she shook her head. Now was not the time.

“Oh boo, you should work on changing that,”

Hah. If only.

“You’re impossible, mom,” Ashley sighed fondly.

“I love you too darling,”

*

Today he was going to do it. Today Dougie was going to get to Storm Surge coffee shop a little early, get his americano to drink in…and hopefully sit with Ashley again. Ever since that amazing Sunday morning where she offered him a seat at her table (she offered him!), he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He could kick himself for not being able to do more than wave at her the past three Sundays, but even just the few smiles he seen in passing since have blown him away. Especially with that cute little blush she always had when she waved back at him.

But today he was coming in an hour before he had to get to work, just to have that chance to sit with her and talk with her. Was it a little desperate? Sure. But Dougie never claimed to be anything other than desperate to get to know the beautiful woman he’d only ever seen in passing until now. His schedule didn’t usually allow him the chance – every Sunday the North Carolina Museum of Art opened from 10-5, and he usually got there just after 9 with coffee for him and Jordie, but every fourth Sunday Jordie came in a little later, so Dougie took the time to sit in and read a little before heading into work…and it was the fourth Sunday today. He could only hope that all the nerves and butterflies would be worth it.

Oh fuck, what if she wasn’t even there?

No, she would be. She always was. Enough stalling.

Still…

Dougie walked into Storm Surge with a little ball of nervous anxiety in his chest, praying that Ashley wouldn’t stray from her routine, until he looked over into the back corner…and there she was. He waited until Ashley looked up at him to wave at her, earning a sweet smile and a wave back. Wow, her blush really was so sweet.

“Dougie! You must be drinking in today, yes?”

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Andrei’s voice, quickly nodding. “Yeah just the usual americano, thanks,”

“You got it,” Andrei nodded, beaming at him.

Dougie quickly paid and moved to the end of the counter to wait for his coffee. The shop was only half-full at this time in the morning, unlike last month, so he didn’t have the excuse of busy tables. Maybe…he could just walk up to her, right? He could take that chance, right? Yeah, he could do this.

“Here you go!” Andrei said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” Dougie murmured.

The barista gave him a strange look at his distracted tone, and Dougie knew that Andrei was watching as he walked over to Ashley’s table…but here goes nothing. He could totally do this. He was an adult. He paid his taxes on time and everything. He could definitely ask a pretty woman if he could sit with her again.

“Hey, Ashley,”

She looked up from her laptop with a bright smile, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Dougie! Hi!” she said happily.

She remembered his name! Wow. No, focus.

“Do you, um…do you mind if I sit with you again?” Dougie asked.

Oh god, why couldn’t he just sound cool for once in his life? Why did he always have to be the least smooth version of himself that he could possibly be?

Ashley took one look around at all the empty tables and blushed even more, before she bit her lip and nodded. “Sure, go for it,”

That was a good sign, right?

Dougie sat down with a nervous smile, putting his coffee gently on the table.

“So, um, how have you been?”

Ashley looked surprised (oh god, was she only being polite before?) before that melted into a pleased look. Okay, he could work with that.

“I’ve been pretty good thanks, yeah. I’m just revising the list of essay topics that I’m giving my students on Monday, so not too much work to do today thankfully,” she said, “How about you?”

“I’ve been alright yeah. Work has been a little nuts with the new exhibition at the museum but it’s all come together really well!” Dougie said, beaming. What? Could a man not be excited about artwork? “what do you teach?”

Ashley smiled shyly, looking a little hesitant again. Dougie couldn’t help but frown a little. Had people made her feel awkward about her work before? That wasn’t okay! “I’m a Medieval History professor at University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. My general focus is on the power of Medieval queens, but I teach everything from the expansion of medieval Europe to love in the middle ages, as well as on the general medieval and early modern history modules. I did my undergraduate and masters degrees at NYU, but I moved down here for the PhD opportunity. It’s now my second full year teaching and I just…I love it so much,”

A PhD?! Holy shit, that’s impressive. Wow. Just…wow. How could she be any more perfect?

“That’s incredible!” was all that Dougie could say.

“You don’t have to pretend, I know having a PhD isn’t exactly the coolest thing in the world, especially in medieval history,” Ashley mused.

Well it was definitely pretty fucking cool to him, no matter what other people had ever said to her. “I’m definitely not pretending, I promise. Medieval history is fascinating,” he insisted.

Ashley pursed her lips like she didn’t believe him, making Dougie laugh.

“I’m serious! I may not have a PhD but my masters thesis was a specialism in Rembrandt’s work. I’m a total art history nerd – 14th-17th century in particular,” Dougie explained.

Come on, let the nerdiness pay off for once…

Her face immediately lightened, her mouth forming into a surprised ‘o’, making him laugh again. At least, he hoped it was a good surprise?

“One of the classes I’ll be teaching next semester is Italian Renaissance and European History to 1650,” she murmured.

Holy shit. What a match up.

“Told you I wasn’t pretending to be interested,” Dougie grinned, “I’d definitely love to learn more about that class when you start it,”

Ashley blushed again, but her nervous smile had shifted into a full beaming smile, and his heart could only just about take it. Then she froze slightly, blinking, as if she’d forgotten something. What?

“Sorry, did you say museum earlier?” Ashley said suddenly, “like, you work at a museum?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m an associate curator at the North Carolina Museum of Art,” Dougie nodded.

He did his best not to puff out his chest in pride. He’d worked damned hard on his career and he was proud of it.

“I just…wow, I wouldn’t have expected it,”

Dougie laughed, raising an eyebrow at her sheepish smile.

“A guy who looks like you, like such an athlete’s build…oh god, sorry, that’s so rude of me,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

But Dougie just laughed, shaking his head. “Believe me, it’s far from the first time I’ve heard that,”

And never with such appreciation of his body either…

Look, he knew how the world perceived him on first glance. Tall, muscled guy, blonde hair and blue eyes, probably an all-american jock right? How he loved proving them wrong.

“Still doesn’t make it okay,” Ashley winced, “so I’m sorry,”

“Apology accepted,” Dougie mused, “I love my work, so it’s fun surprising people. Especially people with similar interests,”

Ashley bit her lip again but nodded and smiled, tilting her head to show she was listening. Wow, he could definitely get used to her looking at him with this much interest.

“Like I said, I’m an associate curator at the North Carolina Museum of Art. I’m actually Canadian, but I finished my masters degree in Boston and went straight into working at the MFA, but after working on a brief project in Calgary, I realised I wanted to work more in my specialist interests, y’know? So I applied for a role at the Museum of Art here, and became the associate curator of European Art. It’s…it’s everything I could’ve wished for, when I was studying,”

Dougie took a sip of his coffee while Ashley processed that flood of information, hoping he hadn’t come across too strong. People really did tend to zone out when he talked about his work…but hopefully because she also had an interest in European history and art, she wouldn’t be put off?

“I can definitely relate to following and achieving my passions for a niche subject,” Ashley grinned, “and I love that you love it so much. It’s rare, to find someone who gets such genuine joy out of their work. Even though work can sometimes be super stressful,”

“Stressful, but worth it. Especially when a new exhibition comes together so well,” Dougie agreed.

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dougie licked his bottom lip, trying not to look too nervous. This exhibition is such a big deal, and it had been such a lot of work. He could get a little excited about it now, right?

“Yeah, I’ve been working solidly for the past few months on the new exhibition – it’s opening next weekend. It’s a collection of Italian Renaissance Art,” Dougie said, a little hesitant.

Hesitant…because maybe that was a bit flashy? Did it sound like he was bragging? He really hoped not – not just because he was so proud of his work but he genuinely did want to excite Ashley…

“Oh no way! Really?” Ashley gasped.

Dougie bit his lips to control his grin. Oh thank fuck. Finally, someone he could actually impress with his love of art history. “Yeah, last quarter the museum acquired over 30 paintings from the 14th century from various collectors and this will be the first time they’ve all been together in the same room,”

“I bet they’ll be so beautiful all together after so long,” Ashley said, her voice a little wistful.

Wistful? He could fix that. Maybe. Yes, this was the perfect opportunity…

“Maybe we could…I know this might feel a little soon, but I’m…

Dougie trailed off with a frustrated groan, making Ashley giggle. For once, just once, let him be smooth! He took a deep breath, before trying again.

“Would you like to come to the exhibition opening with me?” he asked softly.

Ashley’s jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly nodded, making Dougie’s heartbeat kick up a notch. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a plus one as the associate curator, and there’s no-one else I could imagine going with. I think you’d love it,” Dougie explained, “and I’d love to show you the artwork,”

Was that too desperate?

“I’d…wow, I’d love to go with you,” Ashley said, her expression shy but pleased.

Shy but pleased. He could work with that.

“Great, it’s a date!”

Oh God. Dougie could only freeze…but then Ashley smiled. Huh, maybe not so cringey?

“A date huh? I’d love that too,” Ashley said shyly.

Oh thank fuck. Ashley just giggled at Dougie’s blush.

“Give me your number and I’ll text you the details?” Dougie suggested, trying to salvage at least a little bit of his dignity.

As Ashley took his phone from him and entered her phone number, Dougie could only sit in shocked silence. He’d done it. He’d actually asked her on a date. On a date where he could impress her with a topic they both loved so much. All he had to do now was not fuck it up.

That wouldn’t be so hard, right?

*

Ashley had been in a little bit of a daze when Dougie had left for work. He’d asked her on a date. On a date! And they’d exchanged numbers, Dougie having sent her a little smiley face so she had his number in return. She was just thankful that there wasn’t much work for her to do that day – there was no way she wouldn’t been able to focus otherwise.

And then throughout the week, they’d started exchanging cute little messages. Just sweet little things, like how was your day? and look how cute this dog is and I had the loudest school tour group come through the museum today and which of these texts is going to give me the worst teacher rating? – it was all silly and sweet and fun, and Ashley couldn’t remember the last time that the potential of a relationship had excited her so much.

There was just something about Dougie that made her heart beat a little faster every time she thought of him. It was bad enough when he would smile at her in passing in Storm Surge…but now, with every little text, she felt herself smiling even more than she could’ve imagined, like a giddy little schoolgirl with a first crush.

Because at the moment, it really was just a crush. They hadn’t gone out on their first date yet – in reality, they’d only sat together twice, with one of those times essentially being the exchange of their names. They’d only had one conversation in person. And the texts were so sweet and lovely…but they were just texts. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself and get her hopes up, you know? God knows that had happened enough times.

She couldn’t help but hope that finally, she had met someone with real potential. Dougie made it easy to hope.

Ashley supposed that their first date would be the real test of whether she’d just built up all the excitement of Tall Cute Guy in that coffee shop fantasy in her head, or whether he was the real deal. Their conversation in person on Sunday had been such a good start, but fuck please make him the real deal.

Was it really that much to ask?

Finally Friday rolled around and she was finished with work for the week. Well, mostly. Ashley had just come out of a bi-monthly faculty meeting and just had to check some emails before she could go home for the weekend (and to shave her legs because she found the cutest dress for her date on Saturday) – but as she got to her office, she noticed that Rod had stopped in the doorway, waving to some of their colleagues as they strolled past. Hmm.

“So…you’re looking incredibly chipper for someone who just got out of a tedious faculty meeting,” Rod teased, leaning against her doorframe.

Ashley just laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she sat at her desk. “I don’t know why you complain so much – you’re the one who runs them,”

“Not through choice, I promise that,” Rod mused, shaking his head, “But you are looking extra cheerful today. Just feeling a little nosy, I guess,”

Ashley bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Should she tell him about her date? It’s not like Rod was a gossip…and it’s not like she had a whole host of friends to tell…

“I may or may not have a date tomorrow night,” Ashley eventually admitted.

His eyes immediately lit up. Oh God.

“Ooh a date, exciting!” Rod gasped dramatically, fanning himself like a southern belle.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Ashley giggled. That could’ve gone worse – but his excitement definitely lit up the butterflies in her stomach all over again.

Rod just laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just glad you’re giving someone a chance to sweep you off your feet,” he teased, “Who is he and where is he taking you?”

“He’s a guy I met in that coffee shop I go to on a Sunday, and he’s taking me to the new Italian Renaissance exhibition at the North Carolina Museum of Art,” she explained.

And she couldn’t wait.

“A cultured guy or a try hard?” he smirked.

“A cultured guy,” Ashley giggled, rolling her eyes, “he’s actually the associate curator who worked on setting up the exhibition,”

“Don’t we all love a man who knows his history, even if it is art,” Rod grinned, winking dramatically, earning another giggle, “Let me know how the exhibition is - I know my wife would love to go if it’s any good,”

“I’ll give you a full review on Monday,” Ashley agreed, nodding.

“And a full review of your date,” Rod grinned.

“Okay, out, out. I need to finish these emails before I leave,” Ashley laughed.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Rod mused, “If you need anything, even an escape clause tomorrow night, send me a text, okay?”

Her heart softened a little at his kind gesture, and she found herself nodding. “I don’t think it’ll come to that, but thank you, I appreciate it,”

“Any time,” Rod nodded.

Ashley bit her bottom lip to hide her grin as he shut the door behind him on the way out, and the butterflies in her stomach were still there. Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough.

*

Tonight was the night. Ashley only had a few minutes left before her uber arrived to pick her up to take her to the museum, and she couldn’t resist having a final glance in the mirror by her front door. She’d had a little panic over what the hell the dress code would be for a gallery opening, but after Dougie confirmed it wasn’t black tie, just formal dress, Ashley had consulted with some of her college friends (who were buzzing about the fact that she was actually going on a date), and decided that a midi cocktail dress was the way to go.

And she’d found the perfect one.

The dress she’d picked out in a local boutique was a beautiful forest green colour, complimenting her dark hair and hazel eyes perfectly. It fell to the middle of her shins, as her friends had recommended, and had thick shoulders straps, no sleeves but a neckline with a deep enough v that it should a little cleavage (classy cleavage of course, very sophisticated in her opinion). Her favourite part though was the Marilyn Monroe-esque twirl to the skirt – something she’d tested out several times already – and she just felt glamorous in it. She’d straightened her usually-messy hair and put on a little make-up too, to match the effort she was making with the dress. To be honest, Ashley felt beautiful, and she honestly couldn’t wait to see Dougie’s reaction. It was a hell of a lot different to her usual Sunday Storm Surge outfits, that’s for sure.

Soon enough, her uber was pulling up outside of the Museum of Art, and she thanked the driver as she got out. Thankfully, Dougie was already waiting at the top of the steps for her, and the smile that he sent her way made her breath catch in her throat. Ashley took the time to check him out as she walked up towards him, and she felt those butterflies start up again. He was wearing a gorgeous navy blue suit with a white shirt and grey tie, bringing out the colour of his eyes beautifully, and the stunned expression on his face as he looked at her made her blush a little. That was a good reaction, right?

“Wow. You look…amazing,” Dougie murmured, looking her up and down with awe.

Definitely a good reaction.

“You look really good too,” she grinned.

Dougie grinned back at her, before offering her his arm. “Shall we?”

Ashley fought not to squeal as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. What a smooth move. “Lead the way,”

Dougie walked her inside, picking up a glass of champagne each after they dropped their jackets off. Then they were off. The two of them wandered around through the exhibition, Dougie guiding her and giving her the most indepth information she could’ve possibly hoped for. She’d never had such a personal tour like this, and he was so shy yet so knowledgeable that she couldn’t help but to drink up every word. This was what she had hoped for out of tonight, that passion coming through Dougie, and she was receiving it tenfold.

“This one is one of my favourites. Batoni’s The Triumph of Venice. There’s just so much going on, and I swear I notice something different every time I look at it,”

Ashley looked at the painting, taking in the many figures, the details, the colours, and couldn’t help but smile. It truly was a masterpiece.

“Oil on canvas? Maybe…early 1700s?” she guessed.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Dougie breathed.

He immediately flushed bright red, making Ashley giggle. Good to know that her vague art history knowledge was paying off. And that she could make him react like that…

“I love all the finessed detail in this one. Especially on the carriage – it’s exquisite,” Ashley murmured, looking back at it.

“Isn’t it?” Dougie grinned.

Ashley squeezed his arm gently, smiling up at him, earning a happy smile back. He was so clearly in his element, and she was loving every second. The way his entire face lit up when he talked about art…there was something just so beautiful in that. Those beautiful blue eyes were even more alive than ever, that spark of passion adding such a gorgeous element, and she really wanted to see more of it. That was a good sign, right? That she was already imagining more.

They moved on to the next painting, and Ashley’s breath caught in her throat. Wow.

“And this…this is the star of the collection. Giotto’s Peruzzi Altarpiece, the only complete altarpiece by the artist outside of Italy,”

Her jaw dropped a little. That was a big deal. “The only one?”

“The only one,” Dougie nodded.

“Holy shit,” Ashley mumbled, eyes wide.

Dougie grinned at her. “My sentiments exactly,”

“All of that gold. So much gold. And the details in their faces. Holy shit,” Ashley murmured.

“One of my favourite frescos, and I get to see it every day,” Dougie sighed happily.

“Well count me as jealous,” Ashley teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

Dougie just smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was just so cute.

“Would you, um…would you like a new drink?”

“Sure, another couldn’t hurt,” she nodded.

It’s not like she drank champagne that often after all. And it was a special occasion…

They stayed in the museum for another hour, looking over some of the art again as well as mingling with Dougie’s colleagues (including a mostly silent guy Dougie introduced as ‘Foegs’, who gave Dougie a double thumbs up when he thought she wasn’t looking, and a very enthusiastic big blonde man named Jordie, who she learned was Dougie’s boss – which, wow). Their conversation just flowed, and the doubts that she’d had earlier were easily shoved to the back of her mind.

She’d never thought it would feel so natural spending the evening arm-in-arm with a guy, but Dougie had just blown her away.

All too soon, it was time to leave the museum though, and while Dougie got their jackets, Ashley opened her phone to request an uber. 5 minutes away. Perfect.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Dougie murmured, when they were waiting outside.

His own uber was only a couple of minutes behind hers.

“Me too,” Ashley admitted, smiling up at him, “Thank you for inviting me,”

“There’s no-one else I would’ve wanted to take. I just glad you enjoyed it,” Dougie smiled back.

“I enjoyed spending time with you. The exhibition was just a bonus,” she said softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Holy shit she just flirted. Blatantly flirted. Too much?

But then Dougie blushed a little, before a small smirk spread across his lips. “Yeah?”

Ashley just bit her lip, nodding. Dougie’s blue eyes flashed a little darker, sending a hot jolt running through her body. Oh wow. Just like that huh. But then her phone buzzed, the uber car pulling up to the curb, breaking her out of her thoughts just before they started to spiral.

Calm down Ashley, it’s only the first date!

She waved at the uber driver to signal that she’d seen him before turning back to Dougie. “See you tomorrow?” Ashley asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll be starting work a little later on the one off, as it was the exhibition opening tonight,” Dougie nodded, “I’ll be there,”

Ashley grinned at him, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, laughing softly as his jaw dropped.

“Bye, Dougie,” she said softly, walking over to the car.

“Bye,” she heard him murmur, just as she closed the door.

“Hot date?” the uber driver teased.

“The hottest,” she grinned back.

That earned her a laugh, and she couldn’t help but smile as the driver pulled away from the curb. Ashley glanced out of the window, only to see that Dougie hadn’t moved at all – other than his fingers brushing over where she’d kissed his cheek, a hopeless smile on his face.

What a first date indeed.

*

To: Ashley

From: Rod

So how did the date go?

~

To: Rod

From: Ashley

The exhibition was incredible. You need to take your wife, for real.

~

To: Ashley

From: Rod

I actually meant the guy but sure…

~

To: Rod

From: Ashley

He was a perfect gentleman and…amazing.

You’ll get your full gossip on Monday.

~

To: Ashley

From: Rod

Boo fine.

I’m glad you had a good time though!

See you on Monday

*

 “I had a really great time tonight,”

“Me too,”

“I had a really great time tonight,”

“Me too,”

“I had a really great time tonight,”

“Me too,”

Wasn’t the saying that if things seemed too good to be true, then they probably were not?

Ashley had gone to bed feeling over the moon, elated, bubbling with excitement. But when she’d woken up, it was like a dark cloud had settled over her, a heavy rock of anxiety sitting on her chest. Everything had gone so well last night. So well. Too well? This wasn’t the first time that she’d gotten her hopes up only to have things fall apart around her – and her hopes had skyrocketed last night. All she felt was like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it made her feel sick.

That niggling negativity had swum around her brain over and over again, and she hadn’t been able to shut it off – not when she showered, not when she got dressed, and not when she sat on the sofa debating whether or not to actually turn up at the coffee shop.

Was this really what things had come down to? Tempted to break her solid routine, the exact routine she’d had every week, just because a guy made her nervous? Was he really that important? Was she really that much of a coward?

She sat on the sofa so long that she passed the time she would normally leave. Hell, she passed the time she would normally be sitting down at her usual table. Oh god she couldn’t take this. It was too much. Her legs bounced nervously as she pulled up the message thread she had with him, typing out a message to cancel…

…and then she deleted it.

Fuck that shit. No matter how anxious this whole dating thing made her feel, nothing was worth this. She couldn’t just not show up, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t her. Fuck this. As quickly as she could, Ashley grabbed her laptop and her handbag, driving as fast as she could to Storm Surge.

When she parked her car, she noticed that she had a few texts from Dougie. Oh god.

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Hey, I’m coming a little earlier than usual today!

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Are you running late?

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Are you coming?

~

Oh god. Ashley winced, practically running to the shop, immediately spotting Dougie at her usual table in the back. The sheer relief on his face made her wince again. Fuck. His expression dimmed at little, but she quickly ordered her usual latte from Andrei, who looked an interesting mix of confused and concerned, but she headed over to Dougie without hesitating.

“Hey, um, sorry I’m late,” she murmured, setting her coffee and her laptop down on the table.

Dougie frowned at her briefly, clearly taking in whatever the hell her face was showing.

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly.

Ashley bit her bottom lip, hesitating. Might as well tell him the truth, right?

“I, uh, I was second-guessing everything?”

“Second-guessing?” Dougie asked, frowning harder.

Ashley just sighed. “Yeah, um, it’s dumb. I just…it all seems too good to be true? I woke up feeling like I’d gotten my hopes up and…fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel stupid now,”

Looking up at Dougie’s sad face immediately made her regret telling the truth, but it was too late now. Fuck. Why did she have to ruin everything? The fact that he was staying silent just made everything worse. Should she just go?

“What do you want to do now then?” Dougie eventually asked “or do you not know?”

Ashley swallowed heavily, looking down at her hands briefly. Hah. The million dollar question. “I know that I like you?” she offered.

Dougie huffed a laugh. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to get mad if you don’t want to go on another date,” Dougie said with a sad smile.

Oh god that was worse. He should never sound that disheartened – it wasn’t right. And it was all her fault.

“Would you even want to go on a date with me again when I’m this much of an anxious mess?” Ashley sighed.

After last night, this really wasn’t where she’d seen her day going. Self-sabotage was a bitch. But it was her own damn fault. It always was. But then Dougie reached his hand forward, fingers brushing over hers lightly to get her attention, making her blush as he smiled a bit more genuinely.

“Yeah, I would like to,” he nodded, “I had a really great time yesterday night, and I still want more,”

Oh, so maybe she hadn’t ruined everything then. What? Well shit, she was grabbing this second chance with both hands.

“I had a great time too,” Ashley admitted, blushing a little bit more, “even with this stupid anxiety,”

“Good. That’s…that’s really good,” Dougie laughed, “well, not the anxiety part, but I’m going to prove to you that this isn’t just getting your hopes up,”

“I’d like that,” she murmured.

Dougie smiled at her, a truly genuine happiness, making her breath catch in her throat. Fuck she didn’t deserve this. But there was no way she was going to let herself ruin this, not now.

“Maybe we could just talk for a couple of hours before I have to go into work? Have some coffee, a couple of those delicious blueberry-lemon scones, and just see where things go?” Dougie suggested.

Ashley nodded, the tight ball in her chest immediately loosening. God, he was such a nice guy. “I’d definitely like to get to know you more,” she agreed.

“Scones are on me then,” Dougie grinned.

Hope. A second chance. Bring it on.

*

When Dougie eventually walked into work, his shared office had more people in it that he cared for. Well, okay, that was a little mean. But right now was not the best time for the combination of Jordie and Foegs as well as Sebastian and Teuvo, especially not when all four of them had met Ashley last night. Not when they were all so intense. Not while things were still so tentative.

“So, how did it go?” Jordie asked excitedly, “it looked like the two of you were having fun!”

And here we go.

“Well last night, at the exhibition, went really well, but…”

Jordie and Foegs frowned as he trailed off, Sebastian and Teuvo just looked confused. Dougie sighed and sat down heavily at his desk.

“She was really hesitant this morning. Like, so full of anxiety that she almost didn’t show up for coffee,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What do you mean?” Jordie asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“She thinks it’s too good to be true?” Dougie winced.

Foegs looked a little stunned, Jordie’s jaw dropping. But then Sebastian jumped to his feet from where he was sitting on Jordie’s desk.

“Well then you’ll just have to sweep her off her feet!” Sebastian said firmly.

Really? Dougie sent him an unimpressed look, but Sebastian’s pout stayed serious as Teuvo giggled.

“As much as I hate to say it, Sepe has a point,” Foegs shrugged, making Sebastian stick out his tongue at him, “the two of you looked like you’d really hit it off when we were all talking, and the fact that Ashley did meet you this morning means a little anxiety shouldn’t stand in the way,”

“Take her on another date. Wine and dine, man. It’s a classic for a reason,” Jordie added, nodding seriously.

Well shit, if Jordie was being serious then maybe it would work.

“Thanks guys,” Dougie murmured, smiling softly.

“Anything to land you the woman of your many dreams,” Jordie beamed.

Dougie just blushed. Sebastian wriggled his eyebrows, Teuvo just punching him on the arm. It was almost a nice moment.

He waited until Foegs, Sebastian and Teuvo had left to start working before he pulled his phone out, biting his bottom lip as he thought of what to say.

~

To: Ashley

From: Dougie

Hey, I’m glad I saw you today.

I hope you’re still doing okay.

How do you feel about getting dinner with me?

~

Dougie jiggled his leg nervously as he logged into his computer, waiting with baited breath for any reply.

And then eventually, his phone buzzed. Ashley. Thank god.

~

To: Dougie

From: Ashley

I’m alright thanks. That scone definitely helped ;)

I would love to get dinner with you.

~

Dougie couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Good. This was good. They exchanged a few more messages, eventually figuring out that because of his next few late nights with the exhibition and her essays she had to mark, neither of them were really free until next Saturday. A whole week away again. Fuck. No, this was going to work. Dougie knew it was worth it – and if she needed him to text a lot over the next few days to remind her that he was all in, that he wasn’t just going to disappoint her like those other guys, then he absolutely would.

Wine and dine next Saturday. He could absolutely do this.

“Hey, what was the name of that place you took your wife out for date night a couple of weeks back?” Dougie asked, looking up at his boss.

Jordie’s face lit up. “Oh man, it was so good…”

*

As Dougie promised himself, they kept texting throughout the week. He told her fun stories from visitors to the exhibition. She told him silly comments her students made that she couldn’t respond to without laughing in class. He told her all about his time in Boston. She told him all about her time in New York. He sent her a picture of the cutest trio of dogs his neighbours adopted. She sent him a picture of a sunset that took her breath away. Things were…good. He was just glad that Ashley seemed as enthusiastic as she was before their first date.

All he could hope was that he was proving to her that he was different. That he was serious about giving their budding relationship a shot. He hadn’t bonded with someone as quickly as this, as deeply as this, ever – so he wanted to see where it went. The unknown with Ashley genuinely excited him, and he wanted her to feel the same excitement.

He could only try to be good enough to deserve her.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Dougie was a nervous wreck. He’d left work exactly on time for once, Jordie giving him a thump on the shoulder and Foegs a thumbs up (he mostly ignored Sebastian and Teuvo’s shimmies), racing home to change into a nice sweater and his favourite pair of smart jeans. Casual but like he cared about making an impression. That was what he was aiming for.

And then Ashley arrived 10 minutes early, just after he’d arrived himself, looking nervous but happy in the prettiest baby blue tea-dress he’d ever seen, with her hair curled and wearing a pretty pink lipstick. Wow.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted.

Oh god. Mr Smooth, again.

Ashley just blushed, smiling up at him. “Thank you. I love your sweater,”

Dougie blushed in return. What a pair they made.

“After you,” he said, opening the restaurant door for her.

As much as her anxiety had worried him, he was so glad he didn’t give up – she was absolutely worth it. They were lead to their table, Dougie being a bit extra and pulling out Ashley’s chair for her, but the giggle he got in return was what he was aiming for. Wine and dine. Sweep her off her feet. That’s all that he wanted to do, and if it was working then he wasn’t going to stop now.

“I was thinking we could split a bottle of wine tonight, if you want?” Dougie offered.

“Yeah that sounds good to me,” Ashley nodded, “Maybe a white wine?”

That was more than okay with him. Red wine made him a little…over the top? He definitely talked too much when he had red wine, he knew that much, and he wanted to save at least a little dignity tonight. Hopefully, at least.

The wine was ordered, and by the time they each had a cold glass of sauvignon blanc, Ashley looked as relaxed as Dougie felt. He could only hope the rest of this night turned out the same way.

“So did I tell you what one of Rod’s students said to him yesterday?”

Dougie grinned, shaking his head. “No you didn’t!”

Ashley grinned back. “Well…”

They talked for hours, sharing stories about their jobs, their interests, their families, not stopping when any of their three courses came, not hesitating even once. Nothing was awkward in the slightest – their conversation just flowed like they’d known each other for years, and Dougie’s heart was just so happy. This was everything he’d wanted for so long, someone he could truly been 100% himself with, and he couldn’t believe that she seemed as into him as he was into her.

How was this possible, after only two dates?

Time flew by so fast, too fast, and they did eventually have to leave their table, even as much as Dougie didn’t want the night to end. He just felt utterly consumed by her, completely and utterly lost in her very being, and he didn’t want this feeling to stop for anything.

It probably didn’t help that they’d split three bottles of wine though.

It wasn’t enough to make either of them sloppy drunk, not with the delicious food they’d eaten, but Ashley was definitely a bit more giggly than usual, and he was definitely smiling like an idiot.

“I wish your uber wasn’t on its way,” Dougie sighed, when they were outside.

“I’m actually not a far walk from here, so I was just going to walk home?”

At this time of night? Absolutely not! Ashley saw the look of indignation of his face and burst into laughter, making him blush (again). What? He wasn’t wrong for being worried about her getting home safely.

“You could always walk me home?” she suggested.

Oh. Oh. Oh yeah okay, he could do that.

“Yeah, definitely,” Dougie nodded quickly.

Dougie’s heart started beating a little faster as she looped her arm through his, and it was all he could do not to smile at her too helplessly. How did she manage to affect him like this? He’d never fallen so head over heels so quickly. And she seemed completely oblivious to how gone he was for her – in the most innocent of ways.

They walked slowly, leaning on each perhaps a little more than they would without the wine, but it just meant that they had more time for talking. Dougie was blissfully happy to let Ashley rant about the indignity of the black myth surrounding Eleanor of Aquitaine, taking in everything that she was trying to teach him. He loved how much she loved her medieval history, just like he loved his art. It was quirky and different and so unique to her. And honestly, he could picture them doing this together for years, discussing their passions and their love for their careers and…

“Okay this is me,” Ashley announced, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Dougie looked up at the old two-storey home with a smile. So this was her home. Pretty.

“That wasn’t so bad a walk,” Dougie grinned.

“I feel bad now though, making you get further away for your own journey,” Ashley frowned.

But Dougie shook his head. “It’s fine really. I’m sure there are plenty of ubers still running around here,”

“Well…”

Ashley trailed off, biting her lip, making Dougie smile. What was on her mind?

“You can stay, if you want?” Ashley said, a shy smile on her face.

Oh fuck. Stay? Ashley saw the shock on his face, before she blushed furiously, quickly shaking her head.

“I have a spare bedroom! I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Dougie couldn’t help but laugh, tugging her hands away gently. Not that he was opposed to…sharing a bed with her, but that wasn’t the vibe of tonight. Tonight was for building them up, getting them to a more comfortable level. And fuck did it feel good tonight.

Waking up to see her first thing in the morning would only be icing on the cake.

“I would love to stay, as long as you don’t mind,” he said softly, brushing his hand against hers.

Ashley inhaled sharply but nodded, wordlessly reaching in her handbag for her keys. They stayed silent as they walked into the house, Dougie barely moving a foot away from her as she showed him the kitchen, the bathroom and then the spare bedroom. He could do a proper tour in the morning, he knew that. He was just a little stunned that he was even still with her, to be honest.

“So here’s some basketball shorts that my cousin left last time he visited. I don’t have a shirt big enough for you though,” she apologised, handing him a soft bundle.

Dougie just shook his head, smiling. “This is more than enough. I usually sleep shirtless anyway,”

Ashley’s lips parted a little in surprise, her eyes glazing over slightly, making Dougie grin as she shook her head as if to clear it. Good to know he had that effect on her.

“There are spare toothbrushes under the sink from when I last when to the dentist’s office, so help yourself to whatever one?” she offered.

Dougie just nodded, squeezing her hand as he walked into the bathroom. He willed himself to retain at least a little bit of chill as he got changed, quickly washing his face and cleaning his teeth with one of the toothbrushes she’d offered. This was all still a little bit surreal, being honest. But he was going to seize this with both hands – this was a chance he was never going to get again if he fucked up.

Ashley couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him as they swapped places in the bathroom, and Dougie tried not to grin as he flexed his abs a little, making her blush. He could have a little fun, right? Especially since he knew the boundaries he needed to stay behind, he wasn’t dumb.

By the time he’d put his phone on charge and folded his clothes onto a chair for tomorrow, and then headed back out into the corridor, Ashley was back, dressed in a cute little pair of shorts and a giant t-shirt. Oh wow, he could definitely imagine her wearing his t-shirt to bed one day. No, not the time!

“Hey,”

Ashley’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but smile down at her.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“See you in the morning?” she said hopefully.

Like fuck he was going to leave. “Bright and early,” he nodded.

But when she didn’t go anywhere, her hand moving to rest on his bare arm, Dougie couldn’t stop himself from stepping towards her. Fuck. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t push him away, and that was all he needed.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked lowly.

Ashley’s lips parted in a soft gasp, but she nodded. “Yeah, please,”

Dougie raised a hand to cup her face, giving her one last out, but as she raised up on her tiptoes he didn’t hesitate any further. He leant his head down, and pressed his lips to hers softly, barely able to stop the moan that wanted to tear from his throat. Holy shit. Ashley clutched at his biceps, leaning up into the kiss even more, making Dougie’s head spin as he kissed her softly, slowly, over and over again. This was so not what he expected from tonight, or even hoped for, but fuck did it fill his body with butterflies. Holy shit, kissing her was everything. Eventually, he brushed his tongue against hers gently, before pulling away, knowing there was a stupid smile on his face.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Wow,” she nodded, laughing softly, “That’s one hell of a goodnight,”

Dougie laughed softly too, pecking her lips in a soft kiss one last time before stepping away. She leaned against the wall, looking a little stunned, making him grin as he walked into her spare bedroom. If he didn’t walk away, he knew he would do something stupid to break them out of this perfect little sweet bubble, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Not tonight.

Tonight had been perfect. 

*

Ashley woke up slowly, a little groggy, feeling like she was forgetting something. Then she heard the bathroom door opening, and everything came flooding back to her. Dougie was here. He’d stayed over after their date last night. They’d kissed. Holy shit. Holy shit. She took a deep breath to calm herself, fingers rising to her lips without a second thought, and it was all she could do to smile.

Dougie had kissed her. And it was everything.

She squealed softly into her pillow, feeling stupidly giddy, before quickly picking out a cute jumper and her comfiest skinny jeans to wear. She could hear him moving in the spare bedroom, so she quickly darted into the bathroom, washing and then brushing her teeth, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face at the sight of the toothbrush that Dougie used resting in the holder. There was just something about it that felt right.

She took a deep breath, running her hands down her sweater to smooth it, before she headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. It didn’t take long for Dougie to join her, and he accepted the glass of juice that she passed him with a smile.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning,” she said softly back.

Dougie seemed to hesitate slightly, before his face became determined. She didn’t have time to ask him what was wrong before he leant down and pressed his lips to hers in a firm kiss. Ashley whimpered softly into his mouth, earning a soft noise back, and it was all she could do to clutch at his sweater. Holy shit. This was just as incredible and sweet as she remembered from last night. Wow. Dougie cupped her face with his free hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he slowed the kiss down to a few gentle pecks, before he pulled away with a smile. Ashley just smiled back up at him, a little overwhelmed in the best way. Wow.

“Coffee shop?” he said.

“Yeah, if that’s alright,” she nodded.

He understood her routines. And he didn’t care that she wanted to stick to them. How could she not appreciate that?

Dougie just nodded in response, smiling as he sat down at her kitchen table, taking a sip of the juice she’d given him. “I wouldn’t mind changing out of last night’s clothes though. Not really my vibe,” he teased.

Ashley giggled, understanding perfectly. It wasn’t her vibe either.

“I could drive you over to yours, to get a change of clothes, and then we could head to Storm Surge together?” she suggested.

“Yeah? You want to walk in together like that?” Dougie asked, a little hopeful.

Holy shit, that would be one hell of a declaration. But…

“Yeah, I want that,” she nodded.

The grin that spread across Dougie’s face made the butterflies in her stomach worth it.

“Let me just put on some mascara and lipstick, and we can go?”

“Sure, whatever you want,” Dougie smiled.

Now that was a dangerous thought.

All too soon, Ashley was parked down the street from the coffee shop. She took a deep breath, Dougie sending her an encouraging smile, before she steeled herself and got out of the car. This was nervewracking. Storm Surge was her home away from home, her safe space, her comfort, and now she was completely changing the status quo. But as Dougie walked to her side, smiling down at her with such hope in his eyes, she knew it was worth it. He was worth it.

“Ready?” Dougie asked, holding out his hand.

Holy shit. Bring it on.

Ashley smiled up at him, taking his hand in hers, embracing the butterflies that came with the warmth of his grasp. They walked to the coffee shop together, Dougie squeezing her hand gently as she opened the door and walked through.

“Ashley! And…Dougie?”

Andrei’s gasp made her blush, Dougie just laughing. Then Andrei’s face broke into a huge grin, and he spun around.

“Marty! It’s happened! It’s finally happened!” Andrei yelled into the back of the shop.

What the hell?

A door slammed open in the back, and then Marty came barrelling out. He took one look at them holding hands before punching his fist in the air.

“LET’S GOOOO!”

Ashley flinched at Marty’s loud voice, but couldn’t help but giggle when he bounded over to Andrei, swinging an arm over his shoulders.

“Finally! Do you know how long we’ve been rooting for you two?” Marty beamed.

Oh god. Ashley blushed furiously, as did Dougie, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Was I that obvious?” Ashley asked shyly.

“Both of you were. It was so frustrating but so sweet,” Marty shrugged, Andrei nodding enthusiastically in agreement. “We just hoped you guys would take a chance,”

Take a chance. Hah. That’s definitely a good way to describe it. And he was so worth taking a chance on. Dougie smiled fondly down at her, before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“Well I’d say our second date went pretty well,” Dougie said softly, squeezing her hand.

Ashley smiled back, nudging him with her shoulder, earning coos from Marty and Andrei.

“Okay, you two are giving me cavities,” Marty said cheerfully, not even slightly annoyed, “Coffee and anything you want to eat, on the house. I need to tell Slavs – he’s going to be thrilled!”

Ashley just giggled, leaning into Dougie’s body as she looked over the cakes and pastries on display. Being with Dougie, this fledgling relationship, was scary – but it was also so exciting. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next. This was the start of something amazing, she just knew it.

[kooksbliss]

– finishing line || jjk

→ pairing: racer!jungkook x reader

→ genre: strangers to lovers / smut (future) / fluff (future) / street racer au!

→ word count: 6.1k

→ summary: it was a normal, ordinary night out with your best friend, or so you thought. that was before she invited you to a street race, to which you caved into and went. there you met the oh so famous, jeon jungkook. 

→ warnings: hoseok makes an appearance / explicit language / mutual pinning / jungkook makes oc a hot, shy mess / pet names / teasing / this chapter is pretty sfw 

a/n: hi hi hi! hope everyone is having an amazing day <3 this will be more than one part but i don’t think this will be a very long series (i’m thinking around five chapters max) leave me suggestions or any ideas you would like me to write in my ask box! i’m down to do drabbles anytime, hope you all enjoy part one!!

— posted 04.15.2020

masterlist new masterlists | 01 | sneak peek of part 02 | 

You were tired; no, you were drained. Working black friday was no easy task, especially when you work in retail. You stretched your arms as you exited the employee break room after a long awaited break. Once you got back to the sales floor you went up to the cash register to clock back in from your break that’s when you heard someone scoff beside you. 

“It’s about time.” Hyuna stated. 

Hyuna is a co-worker of yours that well, happens to hate you for no reason, no reason you're aware of. She had been working with the company a little over a year before you got employed over the summer and ironically was placed to be your supervisor, meaning you had to be nice to her if you wanted to keep your job. 

“Sorry, Jaehyun needed some help with the stock.” You said as you punched your employee number into the system.

Jaehyun was also a supervisor but for the men’s department, he has been a close friend of yours since you started working here and knows about how Hyuna tends to treat you, unfortunately there's not much any of the two of you can do about it. 

“Well next time come straight out, Jaehyun is a big boy he can take care of himself. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll be going on my break.” She said as she walked past you making sure to hit your right shoulder in the process. You looked up at the clock, thirty more minutes just thirty more minutes, you had been working for who knows how long and your feet had been begging for a rest.

Luckily since it was five in the morning there weren't too many people left in the store, but one thing you did know was that your sleeping schedule is fucked after tonight. Suddenly the chime sound from the bell that hung above the door rang out, you looked away from the clock about to greet the person who walked in, well that was until you saw who it was - to which you responded with a roll of your eyes.

“Come on don’t give me that look, y/n! You know you love me~”

“Jennie left about an hour ago, Hoseok.” 

Jennie is your best friend, you two have been friends since middle school and once her family moved next door, there was no separating the two of you. When you both graduated high school you both thought that it would be good for the both of you to have a change of scenery from the small town you lived in, that’s when you made the comment of moving out into the city, which Jennie happily agreed to. 

Jennie is from a wealthier family compared to your own she could afford going to university straight out of high school you on the other hand, didn’t have the financial support so you got this job and plan to work for another year or two before deciding on whether or not you are financially well off to go to university. She decided to move into an on-campus dorm while you found a decently well priced house, that was near your workplace and not too far from everything else, it’s been a year since you two decided to move into the city and you have loved every second of it, life was good.

“Actually I’m here for you, Jennie felt bad not being able to take you home after your shift so she asked me if I could.” Hoseok said as he walked to the side opposite of you at the checkout table.

Hoseok is Jennie’s boyfriend, they’ve been together for about eight months now and met in one of her classes freshman year. You're so glad she met him, you've never seen her happier and you know he’s good for her. As for you not being able to drive, well - a month ago some dickhead rear ended you and you’ve been waiting to see how much his insurance will cover, so you’ve been taking the bus a lot and thankfully your friends - well Jennie, has been taking you to work which is really the only place you go to outside of your house. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks Hoseok, you didn’t have to.” You said feeling bad about him having to be up at five am to take you home.

“It’s no problem, y/n! You know I’m someone you can count on.” Hoseok said as he walked around the store. “You still have thirty mintues right?”

“Yeah, sorry for making you wait.” 

“Y/n. I already said it wasn't a problem. Anyways I wanted to start my Christmas shopping early.”

As you were about to respond a lady came to the cash register.

Your shift was finally over, you clocked out and grabbed your coat from the back thankfully you didn't run into Hyuna, which is a win in your book. You caught up with Hoseok, who was waiting for you near the entrance. 

“You ready?” Hoseok asked as he looked up from his phone.

“Yep!” You exclaimed as you two left the store, looking down at his hands you noticed that he did in fact buy some things. 

Walking across the parking lot you held your coat closer to your body, the crisp November air was chilly especially in the morning. “Thank you again Hoseok.” 

“Of course, y/n. Do you want anything before we head back?”

You were hungry but, you were just too tired to put that before your sleep. “No, that’s okay I’m super tired from tonight.” Hoseok just nodded as you two reached his car, he clicked the door open and the two of you got in. It felt really nice to sit down, your legs were aching and you wanted nothing more than to lay in your bed and sleep the rest of the day away. 

The ride to your house was nice the two of you caught up and made small talk, soon you were arriving at your house. “Well, thanks for the ride! Be sure to have a safe drive back home.” 

“Of course y/n, I’ll be sure to text Jennie to tell her you made it back home safely and that I didn’t kill you.” He joked. You smiled back as you wished him a good night - well morning. Unlocking the door to your house you quickly took your shoes off and entered your bathroom where you took a quick shower, changing into your sweats and t-shirt entering your bedroom. Charging your phone you placed it on your bedside table as you laid down, sleep slowly consuming your thoughts. 

Feeling the sunlight pour into your bedroom you slowly began to wake up. Sitting up you stretch your arms up into the air and reach over to check your phone as the time reads “3:00”. You moan and groan but finally got up to do something productive for the rest of the Friday you had left. You were looking forward to the relaxing weekend you had planned ahead since you got a bit of a break from work as you didn’t have to go until Monday. 

Doing your typical morning routine you went to the kitchen to make an omelet, grabbing your phone off the counter you put your music on shuffle and started making your dish while dancing and singing along to the song.

Once you were done cooking you gave yourself a pat-on-the-back for not burning the house down. Pouring yourself a glass of juice while sitting down on the barstool you started eating your meal while scrolling down your feed liking some memes.

Ping.

You then got a message from Jennie.

You did say you wanted to be productive but really, now all you wanted to do is binge watch your show and wait for your outing with jennie.

Looking at your phone the time read “6:23” you finished the last few minutes of your show and turned off your tv and went to get ready. After you had dressed casually in booties, jeans, sweater, coat and your purse you topped your look off with light makeup. Opening the the bus app you see when the next bus would be coming and headed towards the stop near your house. 

The sun was already setting making you feel uneasy, you weren’t normally out at this time in the dark and definitely not alone. You sped up and felt your nerves calm once you reached the crowded area of the city. 

Waiting for the bus you sat on the bench and got your phone out of your pocket to check where the bus was, saying it was three minutes away.

Once the bus stopped, you got on, paid the amount and walked towards the back and sat down waiting for the stop that was closest to the restaurant. 

You arrived at the restaurant after walking about ten minutes from where the bus had left you at. You called Jennie to ask if she was already there since it was 7:15. She said that she got caught up in traffic and would be there soon and to go ahead and get a table. 

You went inside feeling your once cold cheeks warm up with the heat of the atmosphere, sounds filled your ears and the restaurant's signature dish scent reached your nose. It was busy as usual, you walked up to the main table to get a table for two, the hostess seated you in a booth towards the back. 

“WHAT?” You shouted in the middle of the restaurant causing many bystanders to give you the side eye. “Shush! Lower your voice, y/n!” Jennie whispered loudly.

Jennie had arrived around thirty minutes ago and the two of you had been chatting it up and she suddenly dropped a huge bomb on you. 

“...Wait, so Hoseok is a-”

“A street racer, yeah.” She started, “I know it sounds totally crazy and I know how you steer away from those sorts of things but, you know he’s a good guy a-and it’s been killing me not telling you.”

You stayed silent, never did you ever think that Hoseok was a racer and your mind was still trying to comprehend everything your friend was telling you. 

“And the reason why I’m telling you is because - now y/n don’t freak out or close yourself out but,” biting her bottom lip she continued, “ I wanted you to go to one of the races with me. It’s been killing me having this secret from you, and that’s only if you want to go! I’m not trying to force you either...”

You were not expecting this at all. Your friend was dating a street racer… and now she’s inviting you to one of their very much illegal races. What should you say? You want to say no you really do, it’s not your scene, plus you really just wanted to relax this weekend. 

“When is it?” You finally spoke after a good minute of silence.

“Tomorrow night.” Jennie responded, “Y/n, I just wanted to tell you about Hoseok, and he told me I should ask you if you wanted to go with us. You don’t have to say yes, and there's many more races anyways if you do decide to want to come to one.” 

You thought about what she said, and were happy that they would even think to invite you. “I’ll - I’ll think about and let you know for tomorrow if that’s alright.” 

“Yes of course y/n! Take your time. Anyways did I tell you about what my chemistry professor said yesterday? He totally was like-”

You got lost into your thoughts as you thought about what she said, normally if someone were to ask you to go to a street race you would’ve said no on the spot but for some strange reason you did want to go but you know you shouldn’t.

“Like, that’s just so rude to say and I don’t even understand why he would bring that up in the first place!” Jennie sighed.

The two of you spent the rest of the night gossiping about each of your co-workers as well as the show you were watching, but in the back of your mind you kept thinking about what she said. 

Jennie took you back home and you two wished each other goodnight. 

Walking into your house you went to your bathroom and did your nighttime routine, changed into some pjs and you promised yourself you were just going to watch two more episodes of your show. Did that happen? No, of course not. What you did however is manage to fall asleep on the couch. 

Waking up with an awful cramp in your neck you arose from the couch with a groan. “Gosh I really shouldn’t have slept on the couch.” You spoke to yourself. Today you weren’t feeling up to cook so you just had your favorite cereal and texted Jennie.

Looking down at your phone you sighed. Should you go? A part of you really wants to know about the racing scene and to see. You needed some thrill in your life and maybe this is it, this is your chance. 

You may have seemed cool, calm, and collected over text but in reality you were freaking out. You just agreed you were going to a street race in less than thirteen hours when your previous plans were to binge watch the show you’ve been watching for another season, a lot more tame for what you're now signing yourself onto. But for some reason you did want to go - it's been a long time since you've gone out anywhere else outside of your work. 

Your thoughts were racing, maybe it won't be as bad as you think it is, maybe the media just exaggerates what the reality is, maybe it’s actually super lame. You tried to make yourself feel better about your decision but you can’t help the anxious feeling inside your lower stomach.

It’s 9:49 pm and you've been staring at your closet for the last two hours, at least that’s what it felt like - it was really more like ten minutes, but still! What were you supposed to wear to these kind of things? 

You supposed wearing black is the most common thing, at least you hoped. You digged into your closet and found a pair of high waisted black joggers with vertical lines on the sides of them, a black halter, some all white sneakers and a large oversized jean jacket.  You then went to your bathroom and tried to make yourself somewhat presentable, with some light makeup and styled your hair to your liking. 

You checked your phone for the time “10:42” you felt your heart accelerate, you were excited, nervous, and anxious all at once. 

One minute soon became two, then three, and soon it was already 11:00. Your nerves were on edge. Suddenly your phone rang and you flew up three feet in the air, with shaky hands you picked up your phone Jennie’s contact lit up the screen and you answered. 

“Hey Jennie!” You said trying to sound excited to hide your nerves.

“Hey! I’m outside! Oh, and make sure to bring your ID.” 

“O-okay sure thing!” You said as you began to awkwardly laugh. You grabbed your phone and your small wallet that you slipped into the front pocket of your joggers since you didn’t want to take a purse. 

Well here goes nothing. 

After driving for what seemed like 20 minutes from your house you arrived in a secluded area where there was a pay toll like entrance and a huge line of cars wanting to go in.

“Uh, Jennie? How many people actually come to these things?” You said being genuinely surprised by how many people are lined up behind the entrance. 

“Hm. I don’t really know the exact numbers but it varies to who actually races, if they’re a fan favorite, a newbie, stuff like that.”

You supposed that made sense but still you didn’t think that there would be so many people, you’re assuming that Hoseok and his friends are fan favorite racers. 

It took 15 minutes from you two to make it to the pay toll.

“IDs?” A deep voice rang out. 

Jennie waited for you to get yours out of your wallet and then handed the man both IDs. He checked the two and looked back up at the both of you, then handed Jennie two white bands, as well as the IDs.

“Thank you.” Jennie said as the toll’s gate rose up and drove off, 

“This is so exciting! How are you feeling y/n?”

How are you feeling? You really didn’t know, it was a strange feeling that’s for sure.

“Good, just… nervous.” You softly chuckled as you looked down at your hands that you curled on your lap.

“That’s totally understandable, I was too when I came to see the first race. I wanted to be a supportive girlfriend but I actually ended up liking it.” Jennie said as the two of you arrived at a graveled parking lot, there were cars parked everywhere and you could hear the distant sound of people talking and the car's engines.

“Here you’ll need to put this on.” Jennie said as she put the white band on your wrist and you did the same for her. 

“Thanks.” You said as the two of you got out of the car.

The cold crisp air nipped at your cheeks as soon as you got out. You hugged the jacket closer to your body and met up with Jennie on the other side of the car.

“Okay! Let’s go!” Jennie said as she looped her arm around yours.

After walking for about four minutes you reached a huge crowd of people, once you two had successfully made it past the crowd you could now see the large narrow street that disappeared into the distance.

Jennie then started walking towards the left where there were a lot less people, and stood two large men in front of a pathway.

“Uh, Jennie?” You said as you cuddled closer to her - what is she doing?

“I’m with Hoseok.” Jennie ignored your questioning and spoke to the men.

“What’s the code?” Said the man on the right. Jennie then whispered what you assumed to be the code to one of the men, they both looked at each other and spread apart making room for the two of you to continue walking on the pathway. 

“Uh, what was that about? Where are we even going?” You asked Jennie once you two were a good distance from the men.

“Sorry if that freaked you out, but basically where we are going is like the VIP area for the racers and those are the bodyguards, the racers are the only ones that know the code but they can tell people too, which is why I know it because of Hoseok.” Jennie said as you two approahed two buildings, one was like an open pit stop area for the cars and the other was like a clubhouse - they really take this street racing seriously huh?

“Oh, I see. So do all the racers hang out over here?” You said as you started hearing the sounds of people getting louder and louder. 

“Yep! Hoseok is probably in his car now, getting ready for his race against Jungkook.” 

Jungkook? That name was unfamiliar to you. 

“Who’s Jungkook?” You said a bit confused.

“Oh! That’s right I forget that you don't know him, well you can meet him after the race,” She said pulling her phone out checking the time, “It’s already 12:27? The race starts in three minutes!” Jennie exclaimed and grabbed your arm taking you to the pit stop area. 

Entering the pit stop area there were a lot of people inside making the once quiet outdoors loud with excitement. You then noticed that each of the racers had their own separate rooms and the people inside were either the guests or the actual pit crew of the racer, well it’s good to know they actually have proper protection and safety. 

The racers had a gold plaque above the open room that they were in, Hoseok’s was the fourth room and you happened to notice that Jungkook’s was right next to Hoseok’s. 

“Come on y/n it’s about to start, I’m so excited!!” Jennie pulled your arm onto a couch that was placed in Hoseok’s room. A loud engine sound rang out making you jump up in your seat, it sounded so close you didn’t realise how close you actually were to the street. 

The cars were not in your view of distance yet but you could hear just how close they were, then you saw two cars one red and one black stop right in front of the room you were in. 

Out of nowhere a very slim, tall girl dressed in basically swimwear and heels holding two flags stood in the middle of the two cars, just seeing what she was dressed in made you shiver. An abrupt voice from an intercom then broke the silence.

“Welcome, welcome ladies and gentlemen, hope everyone is doing well on this cool November night. Tonight’s race is a treat for all of you, we got two of our hottest, favorite racers but I’m sure the lot of you already know that. These two don’t need any sort of introduction, of course I’m talking about Jung Hoseok-” the crowd roared out, cheers and screams rang, you felt your eardrums were going to burst. “And Jeon Jungkook.” If possible you heard the crowd scream even louder. 

“Now, let’s get this race started shall we?” The intercomer’s voice faded out and the girl lifted the two flags, “three, two, one!” She said as she lowered the flags. 

The two cars then accelerated passed her, you got up from the couch and moved to the opening of the room and saw the two cars faintly in the distance.

“They go super fast don’t they? I think Hoseok said something about going 130 mph.” That actually scared you - the fast you’ve ever gone was like 90.

“Dang, and how long does it take for them to come back?” You said as you looked down at the black and white checkered finish line that was a couple feet away from you. 

“Hm, it depends really but it usually takes eight to ten minutes. But in the meantime I like getting some snacks while I wait.” She said turning around to go to the popcorn machine that was next to the couch.

You were still looking towards the distance when you happened to look over to Jungkook’s room, there were at least five girls inside, one of which made eye contact with you and flipped you off, you quickly looked away and met up with Jennie again on the couch.

“So uh, this Jungkook guy? He seems to be a ladies man.” You said while reaching over to steal some of her popcorn.

“Hey! Well yeah, he most definitely is. Why do you ask?” Jennie’s eyes suddenly lit up as she smirked, “Y/n are you trying to get laid? I mean I thought you would be one to wait but I mean Jungkook probably wouldn’t mind fucking a virg-”

“Woah, woah Jennie!” You say as your cheeks and ears start getting red. “N-no well I - well for one I’m not a virgin! And two I asked because when I happened to look over to his room there were a lot of girls but also this one girl gave me her middle finger!” You said in almost a pouty matter. 

“Wait, you’re not a virgin? Not that it’s a bad thing if you are but, you never told me that you lost your virginity.” Jennie said a bit surprised and honestly you don’t blame her. Anyone who knows you probably thinks you haven't got a freaky bone in your body. “But as far as the girl who flipped you off - that was probably Lisa for some reason she thinks that her and Jungkook are together when he himself has made it clear that he’s not into her in that way. She even got jealous of me before she found out I was with Hoseok and not Jungkook.” 

“Oh, then maybe that’s why she flipped me off, but I don’t even know him. A-and about that I uh, lost it the night of junior prom with my date.” You said looking anywhere but her, for some reason you always get shy talking about sexual things, also you didn’t see the hype around it your first time wasn’t as magical as you thought it would have been and people hyped sex up so much you just thought it would be different, you didn’t even climax!

“Oh well maybe you can tell me about it at a better time-” The sound cars�� engines could be heard again and Jennie jumped up. 

“Come on! Let’s see who’s in the lead!” Grabbing your arm the two of you stepped into the open area of the room to where you can see the cars in the distance but on the opposite of which they started. The black car seemed to be the one in the lead but not by much.

In a matter of seconds it seemed, the two cars then passed the finish line, but it was so close that neither you or Jennie could tell who won.

“Well, well, well ladies and gentlemen it seems that this race was indeed a close one, but winning by three seconds more, Jeon Jungkook won tonight’s race. Be sure to stick around to see your favorite racers, that’s all for tonight folks have a good night.” The intercomer wished his goodnights and what was left was the cheers from the crowd. 

The sound of the car door opening reverted your attention to the two racers, Hoseok was the first one to come out of the red one, that meant that Jungkook’s was the black one. You and Jennie waved over to Hoseok as he smiled and waved back.

You looked over to the black car once again only to see the girls you saw in the room along with Lisa were swarming him before he even got a chance to get out. Then you heard the car door opening and you felt the world stop.

Jungkook removed his helmet as he flashed a smile and one of the girls, the one you were told was Lisa then wrapped her arms around him. Then you felt your heart in your throat, he looked at you at least you think he looked at you, regardless you blushed and looked away from what seemed to be his stare directed towards you. 

Hoseok then came up to Jennie and kissed her, “Honey, that was a close good race, but you did good.” Jennie said with a smile.

“Thank you, baby.” He said as he leaned back down to plant another kiss on her lips. You felt so awkward, it was like you were third wheeling, you just looked at the ground trying not to make eye contact with your best friend’s makeout session.

“Okay, okay we get it lovebirds.” An unfamiliar voice said, causing you to look up.

And there he was. Jungkook was absolutely breathtaking, you never thought that someone could look this good close up. You were so mesmerized that you didn’t realize you were staring.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you it was rude to stare, sweetheart?” Jungkook said to you to which you didn’t even reply until you felt Jennie’s and Hoseok’s eyes on you too.

“O-oh I’m sorry.” You said looking down, this is why you don’t go out, you just don’t fit in. You were jizzing your pants just looking at the man who doesn’t want anything to do with you, or even knows your name as a matter of fact. 

“Aw, sweetie that’s alright. No need to get all shy on me, I don’t bite unless-”  

“Jungkooookie!~” Lisa ran up to the group cutting off whatever Jungkook was going to say and hung onto him, “That was such a good race! I knew you would win, no offense Hoseok.” 

“Yeah, none take-” Hoseok started but Lisa, you supposed has a habit of cutting people off.

“So Jungkookie, do you want to go out for dinner with me? It can be a celebratory thing, I even have dessert for you whenever we get to your place.” She said as she sent a wink his way. You could only imagine what she meant making your face red with the thought.

“Actually I might have to cancel-” He answered, removing her arms around his torso. “I was thinking about going with Hoseok, Jennie and-” He paused looking to you. “What’s your name sweetheart, I’ve never seen you around here?” 

You felt your heart stuck in your throat anytime he would even breathe in your direction, the more seconds passed the more you felt yourself grow hot.

“I-it’s y/n.” You said as you mentally slapped yourself for stuttering. “And uh, it’s my first time to a race.”

Jungkook hummed. “Ah, I see. What a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” He said with such sincerity, looking straight into your eyes. You really thought you were going to faint, was he really saying this to you? 

“You're joking. Jungkook, there’s no way you would rather go with them, her, rather than going with me?” He didn’t answer but instead kept staring at you, while you just stared back with wide eyes. 

“Jungkook!” He finally tugged his eyes away from you as Lisa exclaimed and pulled onto his arm.

“Actually I think I would, and I will. Maybe another time hm?” Jungkook said as he looked over to Hoseok. “What do you say? Want to treat me to a celebratory dinner, loser.” He said in a joking matter directed to Hoseok.

“Since you won and I’m such a good friend, I’ll treat you for tonight.” Hoseok said.

“Great-” Jungkook started, “You’re coming right y/n?”

“O-oh I don’t - it’s late a-and-” 

“She’d love to, Jungkook.” Jennie jumped in, you gave her “the look” to which she ignored. “What? Come on, you were taking some of my popcorn earlier, surely you're hungry.”

She was right you were hungry but just thinking about being in a room with Jungkook made you already want to die in a hole from embarrassment, you don't even know the guy and he has such an impact on you. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll go too.” You said still looking at Jennie missing the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up. 

“Uh, what about me Jungkookie? I thoug-” Lisa started, 

“Actually Lisa, can we have a rain check? I want to spend some time with my friends.” 

“Ugh, whatever. You know where to find me when reality hits you.” Lisa said looking at you as she rolled her eyes and walked away with a huff.

“Sounds good, let’s all meet at the restaurant. Jungkook you drove here right?” Jennie asked.

“I did, I drove Hoseok here as well.” Jungkook answered. 

“Hm, well Hoseok can come with me and, y/n, why don’t you go with Jungkook?”

Your eyes almost just shot out of your eyes, was she serious? You’d rather go with them and feel like a third-wheel rather than go in a vehicle alone, with him. You could already see it, you making a fool of yourself.

You felt everyone’s eyes on you as they awaited your response. But you didn’t want to be rude and it’s just a 20 minute car ride, it won’t be that bad, at least you hoped. 

“Uh, yeah sure, if he doesn’t mind.” You said looking over to him only finding him already looking at you. You felt your heart rate increase, something about how he looks at you makes you feel strange, and you couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Of course I don’t mind babygirl.” He saids with a slight smirk walking towards you whereas you felt yourself heat up with the pet name. “Now, shall we?” 

The walk to Jungkook’s car was short and quiet, maybe he came to the earth revolving revelation that you really weren’t that special and that he’s wasting his time. Being captivated in your thoughts you didn’t even notice that Jungkook, who was beside you, stopped walking.

“Woah, woah babygirl, are you already trying to escape?” Jungkook said with a chuckle. 

“Huh?” You turned around with a confused expression painted onto your face. You then noticed that he stopped at a parked car with keys in his hands. “W-well how was I supposed to know this was your car!” You said walk towards his car.

Jungkook put his hands up against his chest as a surrender, “Yes, you’re right, my fault.” Walking to the other side of the car you open the door still very nervous due to the fact that you’re about to be in a confined space with him.

Whipping around to put your seatbelt on, you felt your phone vibrate, causing you to accidentally drop it in the cup holder between the two of you. Reaching over to get your phone, Jungkook did the same thing causing the two of you to rub your hands against each other. “S-sorry.” You said as you pulled your hand away, still feeling his hand lingering next to yours, it’s almost scary how your body reacts towards him. Man you really needed to get laid again. 

“No worries it is your phone after all.” Jungkook said as he held your phone up, he didn’t mean to look down at your phone but he just happened to, “Hm, who’s Kyle?” Kyle… Kyle??! Why is he messaging you, you grabbed the phone out of his hand and looked down at the message. Just a simple “Hey” was displayed on your screen, why is he messaging you after all these years?

“Oh, he’s nobody just someone I went to high school prom with, I really don’t know why he’s messaging me.” You said as you looked down confused at your phone, but decided not to respond. 

“So do you know where we’re going?” Jungkook rang out, “Oh! Not yet but let me text Jennie.” You responded. As you waited for her response you felt this awkward tension as you looked at the plain grassy field in front of you. “So, uh Jungkook?” You said turning to look towards him, “What got you into racing?”

“Hm, we haven’t even gone out and you’re already asking for my life’s story?” You suddenly felt super invasive, “Sorry I didn’t mean to seem nosy.” You said as you look away, staring back towards the field. You felt cold fingertips graze the side of your right cheek as Jungkook turned you to look towards him. “You didn’t babygirl, I just- don’t really like to talk about it.” He said as he stares at you, you begin to blush, surely he could feel it as his hands are gripping your face. You felt electric, you never met someone that had such an effect on you and you didn’t really know why. You knew you really have, but you just couldn’t resist as your eyes moved down from his eyes and onto his lips, he must have seen this as he then began to move towards you.

“J-jungkook…” He stops moving and just stares into you, removing his hands away. Jungkook cleared his throat looking straight on as you stayed in the same position, shocked. You almost just kissed a man you didn’t even know, it’s strange - you don’t even know him yet it feels so right being with him. Maybe it was only you that felt this way but you could have sworn you could see a rosy hue on his cheeks. 

Ping. 

You felt your phone vibrate as you got another message, this time from Jennie.  

You choked on your own spit as you read the message in your head, you were going to kill her.

“Woah, what’s wrong are you okay?” Jungkook said as he looked over to you, “Y-yeah uh, Jennie said that something came up so it’s just us two, y-you can just drop me off if you like. We don’t have to do anything-”

“Y/n. It’s fine, I don’t mind, really.” He said as he put the car in reverse, “Now, let’s go get something to eat babygirl.” 

taglist: @krystle1990, @lurkerarmy​, @olivialovemason88​ @eclivpses @hinawariinoue97 @chimshoe95​ — (let me know if you would like to be added!)

© kooksbliss - all rights reserved

[teacherintransition]

IT’S STILL NOT FIXED? @#%&.$€£§?} Liberty Bell Take me Away!

"Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent”*

From me …”your time is your own when you retire.” Not exactly the case my friend, we will, all of us be captive to the throes of incompetence and being “shushed” by some in certain service business. The only thing you can do to maintain your sanity is to nestle up to your favorite barstool for the panacea when in pain and obtain sanctuary. This becomes problematic when your home away from home, the place where everyone knows your name, the place where the omniscient bartender has your required libation already poured when you cross the threshold … when this establishment has been closed for 1,193 days. Et omnis gloria eius…. The Liberty Bell.

The days since I announced my retirement in August 5, 2020; have for the most part, been pretty damn cool. I’ve started a website, a business, am a writing a book, am writing a blog that I plan to transfer into book form, I’m walking, I’m painting like crazy and have read around sixty books. All in all with honey do’s included, I’ve been a very good boy. Not everyday has been grand and nor should it. I can often find peaceful solace upon my lawn mower, lawn tractor, the throne of the most high to be the right balm for almost any emotionally taxing time; I’m pretty damned easy to please. For those that know me, I’m kind of Hank Hill about my lawn. Neatly cut on a weekly basis and verdant green, “I mean to tell ya!” OCD? You bet your ass I am… and I’ve got one of the best lawns on the block. My red, powerhouse mower had been “injured” for the last four weeks… scratch that SIX weeks which has reduced me to the bourgeoisie practice of paying some one to do my yard work. Not me, not ever… or at least not for long.

Without retreading over the bloody, battle ground of indignation, “the customer is always right,” “you need to understand sir,” blah, blah, blah yada, yada, yada, Yoda,” get over it you must?” I find my self like the French and the Germans at the Marne in World War I … at a stalemate. In times like these when a man, who realizes that deployment of WMD’S, would only escalate the matter beyond all reasonable proportion, he must know it’s time to lick his wounds, catch his breath and refresh himself at his neighborhood pub with tasty libations and good conversation. There was only one place in my town of Nacogdoches that could fully restore me with vim and vigor and had all the requisite charms to soothe the savage beast: The Liberty Bell Aug. 2013-May 2018.

As mentioned previously, I shall use pseudonyms to protect the identities of the people who were my superheroes. K opened the Liberty Bell in August of 2013. Kim and I thought we’d “try out the new spot,” and had dinner there the first weekend. K billed it as a wine bar with pub fare and live music. She underplayed her hand… pub fare? More like steaks, shrimp and grits, shepherds pie that transcended finger food pub fare. Over the years, we would enjoy countless bands and singer songwriters. But a wine bar? You sneaky little proprietor of manna and flowing nirvana… she had beer(s), bourbons, gins, vodkas, ….Scotch Whisky with names like Glenlivet, Glenfiddich, Maccallan , Johnny Walker R,B, and B, the Balviene and others. K had prepared and provided an oasis from what St. Anthony Bourdain referred to as the sea of TG Mcfuckdies, Appledon’ts, and other prefabricated restaurant grill ideas that could be found at the end of every feeder road on any highway in the country. The Liberty Bell my friends was something completely different… at least for us small town folk in Nacogdoches. Our first waitress was KC who showed all the charm, wit, and politesse one would expect from an high end dining establishment. This it wasn’t, but it damn sure wasn’t an all you could eat food buffet and salad bar either. As we exited that balmy August evening through the doors, Kim and I looked at each other and, with the stars gleaming in the sky declared, “we really like this place.” In truth, I was holding something back, in my mind and in my heart, I was really thinking, “no, I fucking love this place!”

The decor was simple: dark wood flooring, a mid tone oak bar with the all important brass railings, multi colored earth toned brick that appeared subdued and solid with the look of being an older establishment that gave a feeling of reliability and solidity. A row of draft beers that provided the patron with an eclectic variety of artistic fermented malt beverages. K was presenting a true farm to table dining experience that filled out a fresh, fantastic menu. An eclectic mix of your American staples, southwestern fare, delicious steaks for we carnivores and a few surprises thrown in and expertly prepared.

H worked for K and was the kindest sweetest, fun, personable soul I may have ever met. It was a definite, “YES!” moment if you got her table. You were not only going to get wined and dined, but we’re guaranteed laughter and a hug. Choosing extraordinary personnel, was the magic intangible that made the Liberty Bell … my spot. H was also a fine arts major and ran the art gallery in the restaurant. There were many works from the university Art school, but H sought out local talent and even displayed my art. My paintings were hanging in a gallery! This local flair of coxing the locals to put their talents “out there,” was another draw to get you into this place…this wondrous place. We made friends there … that enjoyed you … not just because you were going to spend money. They would come and sit with you if things were slow and if they weren’t slow, they’d damn sure make the superhuman effort to let you know that they knew you were in house. The master of this service industry art form was J. He was genuinely happy to see you enter the door followed with a hand shake, a smile and a from the heart, “good to see you man!” J and later his protégée N, loved a challenge. You wanted a special nightcap to close out the evening? There was none of this, “duh, I’m sorry we don’t make that,” no, no my friend. J and N knew how to make it or would research right there or suggest a perfectly acceptable substitute. The next week you could safely bet the farm that your drink request was on the menu often being named after you. How could you expect anything better? They wanted you here and they damn sure wanted you back.

All of these niceties, these actions that you could never expect from the chain bar, grill and swill were what made The Liberty Bell transcendent.

“A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation. ”

William Blake

This my friends is the money shot for a personal pub…. not the drinks, not the grub, not the large plant by the door… can the place that you’ve chosen really lift you up when your down? If the whole week has been filled with smart ass criticisms by some passive aggressive mid management flunky who hovers around 5’ 5”, wears shirt sleeves with a polyester tie can two hours spent within the confines of said pub wash away all the smatterings of the Napoleon complex supervisor and have you smiling and laughing and your not even drunk yet….this is the place to be mi compadres. If you congregate with others also beaten down by the soul crushing 9 to 5 and can find commonality in the struggles of your fellow proletariat and can see the good in SOME of the human race, well baby, you’ve found your sanctuary and hold on with all your strength, because one day it might be gone. For four years almost every Friday, Kim and I would meet at the Liberty Bell and commiserate, vent, fuss and heal. Going home, twisting open a beer and mindlessly watching Sports Center was not the ticket. An early afternoon at The Bell was truly good for what ails you. The pub, K, KC, H, J, N, C and the others are all gone… and The Liberty Bell has been replaced with … uh … something. All too many afternoons call out for that salve that soothes the savage beast. I’m reminded often when things just don’t turn out like you want….not to the degree of break down status, but just to the point that a familiar face, your comfortable bar stool and genuine conversation would make everything right with the world again … at least for awhile.

*Webb, Jack; Dragnet; Mark VII Productions; 1951-1970

https://youtube.com/channel/UClK_MAvZtDiLmlp-4HIN7NA

https://instagram.com/loveandwinemedia?utm_medium=copy_link

http://labibliotecacoffee.com/

[chelsfic]

Say You’ll Be My Baby - Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy - Narcos Fanfic

A/N: Title from “Make You Smile” by Elle King (thanks to my Anon of Music for their consistently awesome song recs). That song is pure Steve/Connie to me. This fic is fulfilling my deep desire to just wrap my arms around Steve and Connie. I tried to capture some of Connie’s sassy nature.

Summary: How Connie and Steve get together. That’s it, that’s the story.

Warnings: Fluff!!, Mention of gun violence

---

“...So it wa’n’t fake...”

And just like that he had me. It was that lazy West Virginia drawl rasping over the phone line and caressing the shell of my ear, smooth as Hershey syrup. And the balls it took to actually dial my number after that stunt at the bar. I was intrigued. And I won’t lie--the DEA thing was hot. I felt my lips quirk up in a pleased grin, my stomach fizzing with nervous excitement. I figured we could have some fun together...nothing serious.

The first date was a disaster. 

We agreed to meet for drinks. Nothing serious, just some casual fun and then...who knows? Only we never came close to “who knows?” because he stood me up. The worst part was that in the days leading up to the date I had truly grown excited about it. The more I thought about that tall, lithe frame leaning up against the bar, his blue eyes focused on me like I was his whole universe, the more nervous energy I felt churning in my stomach. Until I spent an hour sitting by myself, sipping beer and getting hit on by every guy in the bar. I was not the girl who sat around waiting for a guy to show up. Except that night I was. I left the bar with a lump in my throat and my face burning with wounded pride.

I trudged back into my apartment, alone and wearing my best date-night dress. The answering machine glared at me as I passed through the living room. No messages. Fucking hillbilly asshole.

When the phone rang in the middle of the night, startling me from a deep sleep, I figured it was work. I poked my head up to read the time on my alarm clock. 3:32 AM. Jesus.

“Connie, honey, I am so sorry--” the accent wasn’t so cute now.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked sleepily, my voice hushed but steely. “First you stand me up and now you wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“God, I feel terrible. There was an emergency situation here. At work. And I...it just slipped my mind. Lemme make it up to you.”

I didn’t answer for a minute. I could understand work emergencies. I’m an ER nurse, I get it. What I didn’t want to consider was a man who could forget about me until 3 o’clock in the morning after standing me up. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” I sighed, hanging up the phone and falling back into my pillows.

So much for first impressions.

I didn’t see him again for a couple weeks. I sure thought about him enough, though. Why couldn’t I get this guy out of my head? I was ready to dismiss him and never set eyes on him again when he came up to me the night we met. But...somehow he’d wormed his way into my consciousness. I found myself remembering the deep timber of his voice. Every time my phone rang I felt butterflies wondering if it might be him. But he didn’t call.

Finally, fed up and a little drunk after a night out with the girls, I called him.

“You know, the polite thing to do would be to send me flowers or a card or something! You know, really grovel!” I slurred into the phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder as I stood at my kitchen counter scooping Häagen-Dazs into a bowl.

“Is this...Connie?” he asked, confusion obvious in his tone. “You drunk?”

“That’s besides the point,” I huffed. “I shouldn’t be the one calling you. ‘S not how this works, buddy.”

“And how does it work?” he drew out his syllables, letting his voice melt with intrigue.

“Oh, no you don’t! That stupid, sexy voice isn’t gonna to work on me this time!” I warned him, licking the ice cream scoop.

His laughter floated over the phone line as he responded, “You think my voice is sexy?”

“Shut up! You’re on thin ice. You’re supposed to chase me, beg me for my forgiveness. That’s how it works.”

He infused his voice with mock seriousness, “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t realize. I’ll get right on that.”

“Good! You better,” I said, hanging up on him and letting the cordless phone clunk onto the countertop. As I stood there, eating ice cream and momentarily congratulating myself, it occurred to me that it was possible I’d regret all this in the morning.

Lucky me, there wasn’t much time for regrets. I was just finishing up my rounds when the Nurse Supervisor dropped a new patient intake sheet into my hands. 

“Gunshot wound. Very minor. Just needs some stitches,” and then she was off, rushing past me and trusting me to do my job. 

My feet were already leading me down the hallway in the direction of the appropriate exam room when I scanned the paper in my hands and saw the hastily scrawled name at the top. Stephen Murphy.

Gunshot wound. Oh god.

He was up on the exam table when I walked in, long Levi-clad legs dangling over the edge. He sat hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing a handful of gauze to his neck. I cleared my throat as I walked inside, standing momentarily frozen in the doorway as he turned those striking blue eyes on me. I watched his face light up with a smile that even the blood-soaked gauze in his hand couldn’t dim.

“And here I thought I was havin’ a bad day,” he drawled, wincing only slightly as the movement tugged at the wound on his neck. 

“Jesus, Steve!” I breathed, pulling away the gauze and getting my first look at the shallow abrasion along the side of his neck. “This was...a really close call.”

My voice must have betrayed my emotions. I barely knew him, but this sudden, visceral introduction to the reality of his life was somehow pulling me in instead of pushing me away. 

He smirked and made light of it, waggling his eyebrows as he breezed, “I know, just an inch to the left and I woulda lost my sexy voice.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and held up the suture kit I was about to open, “Maybe not a good idea to tease the woman about to stick a needle in your neck?”

He held up his hands in capitulation, his smile blinding me as I readied to close the wound. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me stick out my tongue in concentration as I worked. 

I addressed him without looking up, “So, I guess you’ll do anything to get out of a date with me, huh?”

He huffed a laugh and I put a steadying hand to the side of his jaw to still the motion.

“Be still, honey,” I murmured under my breath, tying off the last suture. Steve went docile at the touch, looking up at me with stars in his eyes as I bandaged the wound. 

“Do we have a date?” he asked, his voice low and unsure. I watched his hands close into nervous fists in his lap.

“I don’t know,” I said, snapping off my latex gloves and dropping them in the trash. “Do we?”

And so our first real date was that afternoon in the hospital cafeteria. Steve insisted on buying my lunch and carrying both our trays despite his fresh injury.

“Eh, it’s nothin’,” he scoffed, but I didn’t miss the wince of pain as he set everything down on the table. 

“Big, strong man, huh?” I teased. 

He arched his elegant, blond eyebrows in response and his lips tugged up into a smile that cut straight through me. He watched me with that intense stare of his while I fidgeted nervously under his scrutiny, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and looking down at my plate. I’d never felt like this with any other guy. I was always the cool, aloof one. Never shy and lovestruck like I felt at that moment.

“So...is this something I’m gonna have to get used to? Missed dates and trips to the emergency room?” I asked only half joking. I could feel myself falling into something more serious than I’d intended with this man. Something about him just kept drawing me in.

He snorted, not picking up on my somber thoughts, “I promise you, this is my first trip to the ER.”

“What happened?” I rested my head on my hand, watching as he took an enormous bite out of his turkey sandwich and smiling despite myself.

He took a minute to chew, opening up a packet of mustard and drizzling it onto the sandwich as he considered his words, “Streets are more and more dangerous, Connie. I was out with my partner. Followin’ up on a tip. Broad daylight. Son of a bitch pulled out a semi-automatic and almost blew my head off.”

I shook my head in horror, “Did he get away?”

“Nah, my partner managed to grab him,” he answered, then added laughingly, “Musta been a burst of adrenaline when he saw me get shot ‘cause Kevin can’t run for shit.”

We turned to other topics: family, how long we’d each been in Miami, my job as a nurse. My lunch break flew by and before I knew it I was walking him out to the sidewalk. 

“So...I know getting shot and turning up as your patient doesn’t exactly count as wooing you but…,” he broke off with a laugh, ducking his head and looking up at me with those blue eyes I loved already, “You think you’ll let me see you again?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a stern appraisal, letting my eyes flick up and down his long, long body before shrugging and faking a casual tone, “Sure, you can see me again.”

He grinned, stepping closer and brushing his fingers over my crossed forearms.

“Yeah?” he smirked, holding my gaze until I couldn’t help but return his contagious smile.

“Yeah! If you can remember our dates, that is.”

He put a wounded hand over his heart.

“Ouch! Baby, that hurts! I promise you--,” he broke off, bringing his hand up to cup my face and stroking his thumb along my cheek. I sucked in a breath at his touch. “I promise you, baby, I’ll treat you right.”

He spread his fingers, letting them thread through the flyaways escaping my ponytail, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. 

“Would you get in trouble with your boss if I kissed you now?” he drawled, his eyes already fixated on my lips. 

I let my own eyes wander to his mouth. His pouty, pink lips were a little chapped and I watched as he darted out his tongue to wet them. He leaned in even closer until I could feel his breath mingle with mine. 

“I don’t think I care,” I answered and then I closed the gap between us and caught him in our first kiss. 

He brought up his other hand to cradle my head, moving his lips over mine and flicking out his tongue. I drew myself up on my tip toes, clutching his shoulders and melting against him. I could feel myself surrendering. To the kiss and to this man. Whatever I might have thought when he first swaggered up to me in that bar...I knew now that my life was changing. I felt myself moving inexorably closer to a future that included Steve. 

I smiled against his lips before forcing myself to pull away. 

“You better call me, Steve Murphy,” I called as I walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with a freshly stitched wound, kiss-swollen lips, and the conviction that he had just had his first kiss with the woman he was going to marry.

Boyd Tags:

@nothing-but-a-comedy @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook @theplumsoldier @meri47 @lackofhonor

[sadgirlx9]

It’s funny because I went on a first date again after a long time, thinking I could get over you. The whole time I sat there in the noisy bar listening to the music more than I was listening to my date. I really wanted to tell him to shut up or just have him see how bored I was. We all knew I was too nice to let that happen though. I sat there, listening to him ramble about how many ladies he had before and how he’s such a smooth talker. I couldn’t keep you off my mind no matter how hard I tried. I had flashbacks to when we played pool and how you had so much fun ‘teaching’ me how to play. I caught myself drifting away, zoning out, while he spoke.

“Am I boring you?” He caught me. Crap.

“Nah, I’m just thinking about all the times I brought other guys here for our first date,” I let out a nervous laugh, thinking why the hell I said those words to him.

“I’m going to go outside for a smoke,” I tried changing the subject.

“I can come with… if you want,” he suggests, half-heartedly.

“I really don’t care if you want, that’s fine,” I was trying so hard not to sound so harsh.

We stood outside talking and you came up. I told him about my best friend who unknowingly broke my heart. My best friend that tried to leave me way much earlier than we expected. My date stood there, swaying. He was already drunk but I was there trying to get him to understand that he didn’t compare even the slightest. He inched closer and closer to me on the sidewalk and I wondered if he noticed how I kept backing away from him. Distancing myself. I just wanted to get drunk at that point, honestly.

We went back inside the bar and I went to the bartender to get another beer. I ordered my date and I another shot. Jameson, the only whiskey I could drink like water because of our late night hangs. I took the drinks back to our table and he took them right away, telling me he was having fun. He inched closer to me again and I let him put his arm around me. I kept peering over to our usual table in the corner and tried to stay present in our conversation.

“So, after this,” He comes closer to me, trying to whisper into my ear, “did you want to go back to my place?”

I wince at the question and try not to laugh.

“I think I’m going to go home,” I tried explaining that I needed to wake up early for work. We both knew I was lying because I told him earlier that night that I didn’t have plans the next day. I downed my shot and beer and motioned that we should go outside to the patio. I couldn’t keep looking at that same old corner and at that damned pool table.

The thing is, no matter how clouded my mind was with drugs or alcohol. My mind always found a way back to you. The last night we spent together always plays in my head. Replaying those delicious moments, those sweet words. How we both laughed when something we both said resonated with an inside joke we shared.

“Let me be a man!” you yelled in a joking manner.

I could never keep a straight face around you. Always joking or talking mad shit to each other. I never knew what people meant when they said that their best love was a best friend. I always thought it would be awkward to try to change that into a relationship. But I get it now, I get it. After all this time, it’s you who fills my head. Our memories.

I recently came across this video from my deep files on my hard drive. It was a video of us from the first time we hung out. It was one of those silly videos that was initially supposed to be a photo and we’re giggling and saying hi to the camera. I remember my boyfriend at that time was so jealous because he said you were only hanging out with me to hit it. I remember laughing because we didn’t even know each other that well but we didn’t know that was the start of our never-ending friendship. We were inseparable and all my friends kept asking if you were my boyfriend when I was still clearly with the other guy.

Everyone told me that we were going to end up together and I never saw it. It wasn’t until that last weekend together. Everyone gushed over how we completed one another. How quiet we were when we weren’t together. It still makes me giggle because we were really that in-sync. The way the party started when we met up. Making everyone laugh with our jokes and roasting each other. I saw the sparkle we each had that everyone was talking about. It made me roll my eyes at how similar we were. Then I remember Doreen’s words.

“Me and Jay are best friends,” she told me one day, “you two are something else. Y’all are best friends but not how me and him are. You’re on a whole different level than all of us.” She really knew what she was talking about.

The date was coming to an end and I was sitting outside smoking cigarettes with what's-his-face rambling again about some adult film star that he was talking to. We laughed about how she was trying to charge him for every message and every phone call. I almost believed him, but to be honest, I really thought he paid her for all those texts and video calls. He would never admit it to me. He really is a nice guy, we’d known each other for at least six years. Maybe more. He was my supervisor at a warehouse job I had back in the day and we clicked. I honestly only ever saw him as a friend, probably the reason why I wasn’t taking this date seriously. I couldn’t. He just kept talking and talking about how great of a guy he was and what a catch he is. I mean, I guess he was. He wasn’t my type. I, however, liked guys who didn’t show any interest in me. That was my toxic trait.

He asked me the dread question once again. And again, I couldn’t hide my face, which showed him how I felt about going back to his place.

“If you don’t want to just say that,” he stated, kind of annoyed.

I noticed the more he drank the more controlling he was getting. Every time I tried talking to other people I recognized he would pull me by my arm or the back of my shirt. I looked at him with an expression as to say are you fucking kidding me? Or wrong bitch, man. He didn’t get it though, or maybe he did but chose not to address it.

We were in the parking lot now and we were deciding on how we were going to get home. He suggested we take an Uber to his house first so in case I changed my mind we could end the ride there. Very doubtful, my guy. Someone then poked me on the shoulder. I turned to see a familiar face. It was my ex-boyfriend and his awesome new girlfriend. I hugged them both and that didn’t rub my date very well. I tried introducing them but he was too busy trying to order the Uber. We all caught up with each other and I gave them some smokes. We stood there laughing about the last time we saw each other.

That was probably the last thing I remembered.

Me and my date did spend the night with each other. But the only thing on my mind was you. The last night I spent with you really did something to me. You did something to me. I can’t even enjoy a date without you entering my mind. I honestly remember getting slightly annoyed with you and the hold you so obviously had on me. I remember when I would go out and just be a serial flirt. Now I have flashbacks to how you used to touch me, how soft and delicate you were with me. How every time you said my name I would get weak. I loved how you treated me, like I wasn’t just some damaged thing. You really are my best friend. You ran your hands through my hair, and asked what was on my mind. You knew how to take care of me better than anyone I had ever known. I don’t think you know how much I tried to leave you. I tried so many times. Now it’s just me missing the hell out of you and countless nights crying myself to sleep. I need you so much but I’m scared to see you because I’m scared of the way I would break down. That’s why I choose to write you letters rather than visiting in person or phone calls. The sound of your voice alone would simply be too much. All I know is that you’re really the only person I would settle for. The only person who sees the real me and knows I’m enough. For me, it’s you. It’s always going to be you.

[cadenceoftherain]

I HAVE!! Nico going back home after an exhausting day at work (a storm outside) and then finding her best friend Karolina cooking in her kitchen - they aren’t roommates, Karo just have a key. “Bad day?” “Not anymore, not with you here.” and then after some fluff Karolina says she loves her and Nico freezes, Karo run away thinking that she made a mistake, she takes the elevator and leaves. Nico runs after her (she takes the stars because fuck she’s too late to stop the elevator now) and then +

I hope this is good, I wrote most of it with like three hours of sleep to claim 😂 this was fun though, my stuff usually drags forever and I feel like this could be a real learning opportunity. Thank you for the submission! 😘

_____________________________________________

Anger seethed from the very core of her being. Above, the sky was dumping buckets of rain, uncaring and joyful despite the utter misery of underprepared pedestrians. Footfalls squelched in soggy shoes and echoed against concrete and steel beams as Nico Minoru approached her apartment. She looked longingly at the elevator, but with the lightning she'd rather not risk getting stuck in it. Up two flights of stairs, who were now showing signs of being trampled often after nearly three years of tenancy, and she was home, ready to shed her sodden clothes and fall into the arms of her couch and not rise again until she had to go back to that godforsaken hell hole. 

Surely she was deserving of basic fucking human decency. Surely after working her ass off for three years she deserved some sort of "thank you" and that promotion would have been fantastic, but no. Not even a little pay raise had come her way. She had been raised to be persistent, to be stalwart and headstrong. Instead, she'd grown stubborn and proud and couldn't bear to hold her current position much longer. Her attributes would be put to better use elsewhere, she knew, and had been anxiously checking her email to see if a potential hire had taken a nibble at her resumé. 

Thunder struck and lightning flashed just as she reached her door, finally under the shelter of the awning. Her key slid in easily, but Nico saw there was no need upon opening the door. It was no unusual thing to come home and find her best friend hanging around. They'd had keys to each other's living spaces for years now, and could usually be found at one or the other at any given time.

Pop music could be heard from the kitchen, and very poor singing accompanied it. Something smelled amazing too, was that curry? God, she hoped it was curry. 

Once inside, Nico sloughed off her hoodie, soaked completely through before throwing it into the dryer. 

"Nico? That you?" A voice called, and Nico's heart lifted. The music paused as Karolina rounded the corner, a smile gracing her already angelic features. It quickly slipped, however, when she saw how badly Nico had fared in the storm. "I'll grab you some towels," 

"Thanks, Kar," Nico called to her retreating figure, and then decided she might as well throw everything else in the dryer too. Silently, she prayed her phone had survived. It was water-resistant, after all, but with the day she'd had…

By some divine power, her phone was spared, and she blew out a long, slow breath and continued stripping down. 

At least that's one positive thing for today, she thought. And I don't have to cook tonight. And it might be curry. 

Karolina returned with two fresh towels, blushing furiously when she caught Nico naked in the laundry room. She was grateful she had cooking to tend to as she made her way back to the kitchen, unwilling to let her eyes stray. "Bad day?" She called out, hoping Nico didn't notice how high her voice sounded. 

Nico, of course, did not. "Not anymore, with you here. Work fuckin' sucked though," she replied. "They passed me for promotion. Again. I've been there the longest and I've now trained all my supervisors." 

"I'm sorry," Karolina said, coming back from the kitchen satisfied the chicken wasn't in danger of burning. She should have stayed there, however. 

One towel wrapped around Nico's waist, the other was on her head as she dried her hair, leaving a very naked, very toned, torso completely bare and covered in goosebumps. 

Clearing her throat, she kept her eyes strictly trained on Nico's face. "Well, I'd hoped we'd be having a celebratory dinner tonight, but that's okay, we can drink and hope for better tomorrow." 

Nico had to laugh at that. "As soon as I get an offer, an attractive offer or even a mediocre offer, I'm quitting. Then we can really celebrate. What are you cooking?" 

"Your favorite." 

Nico smiled fully then, any dark moods or thoughts forgotten. "Thank the Goddess above, I love you."

Karolina's heart flipped in her chest. 

"It'll be ready soon if you want to get some clothes on. Should be done by the time you get back." 

With the promise of hot curry, Nico bolted to her bedroom. 

Karolina took the time to put the finishing touches on the dish and make their plates, being generous with Nico's portions. In the dining room, she set the table and poured wine, this time her favorite blackberry bottle, and lit a few candles. 

Nico returned a few minutes after and glanced down at her choice of dress. It was nothing special, just leggings and a faded T-shirt. "I feel underdressed." 

Karolina chuckled. "It's just dinner, Nico." 

"It was just dinner, then you added wine and candles," she retorted, but took her seat all the same. After a day like hers, she was not going to waste time when she had curry in front of her. 

They are in companionable silence, Nico savoring every bite and Karolina savoring her enthusiasm. When they were finished, they moved into the living room with their wine and the bottle. 

Nico is finally relaxed now, leaned back against the cushions as the wine found its way to her bloodstream. 

"I really appreciate this, Kar," Nico murmurs. She was warm and dry now, and perhaps a touch wine-drunk. Had it been two glasses? One? She wasn't sure, but something about wine always had her feeling looser than it should. She didn't mind it, though. 

The other blushed lightly and sipped from her glass. She could hold her wine more easily, but her nerves had her stomach tied in knots. The wine felt thick in her throat and acidic in her mouth. 

"I certainly don't mind, but I wish it were under better circumstances." 

"Eh, one day," Nico sighed. 

"There's something I'd like to talk with you about," Karolina began, building her nerve. She carefully leaned forward and set her glass on the coffee table, facing Nico fully. 

Whatever wine-haze she'd found quickly fled as she grew nervous. "What's going on? Is everything okay?" 

"Everything's fine, I just need to tell you something." 

"Okay…?" Nico arched a brow. 

"I… I'm proud of you." Karolina diverted suddenly. "You probably don't hear that at your job very often, but I can see how much you care, and thought you should know someone appreciates you." 

Nico was touched, but still cautious. "I… thank you, Kar. I feel like there might have been more--" 

"And I love you." She rushed out, her heart pounding in her chest.

The girl balked. "I love you, too, Karrie." She said softly. It was no unusual thing to express feelings of love and familiarity, but this was different. Somehow. Karolina was watching her carefully, almost frightfully, afraid to sit too close or speak too softly.

A deep part of her swooned at that nickname, but she couldn't let herself get distracted by it. "I mean… I've felt this way for… a while now and I wanted to be honest with you about it… I'm in love with you Nico." 

Ocean eyes were pleading as Nico stared back at her blankly, then with startling clarity as the words sank in. 

"Oh. Oh. Oh, fuck."

And her heart shattered. 

"You know what, just don't even worry about it, it's probably just wine talking, you know how wine gets you lusty, but I should probably just go, I'll, um, I'll call you tomorrow." And she was gone, before Nico could attempt to throw a complete sentence together. 

"No, Kar, I lamp--oh fuck," she said, scrambling to stand. She hastily threw on shoes and raced to the walkway where the distinct ding of the elevator solidified her fear. 

She had to race the elevator, and she was the slightest bit tipsy. She bolted down the stairs, nearly wiping out had it not been for the handrail, and desperately searched for Karolina. The rain was impossibly heavier now, hammering against asphalt and roof alike. It was hard to see, but she'd only been a few seconds late. 

"Karolina!" She called, desperate to shout over the cacophony of rain and thunder to no avail. The girl kept walking, shoulders hunched in the onslaught of rain. "Karolina!" She tried again, taking leaping strides to catch up with her. She finally made it, her hand wrapping around Karolina's wrist as she tugged her to a stop.

She turned, her tears hidden by rain. "Nico, it's okay really, I can get over it just-" 

Nico had to stretch up on her toes to reach, but she was just tall enough to capture Karolina's lips. She halted any further thought, and the world fell away. She was warm against her, though wet, too. Her lips were impossibly soft and she wondered how sweet her mouth was. Daringly, she darted out the tip of her tongue, begging entrance.

Karolina obliged, her hands coming up to cup Nico's face gingerly. She swooned when she felt Nico's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer as her tongue slipped past her lips. It was hungry, but not forceful. Desperate, but not needy. 

Breaking away, Karolina pressed her forehead to the other's, breathing unsteadily. Neither spoke for a moment, content to hold and be held while rain poured over top of them. 

"How long?" Nico asked softly. 

A gentle chuckle shook her form. "Always? I didn't… I didn't know if you'd reciprocate, and I didn't want to lose you…" 

"Karrie, I've had a crush on you since the third grade." Nico admitted, pulling back to meet the girl's eyes. "Every year for Valentine's day, I made a card for you. Everyone else got the standard drugstore, fill-out-the-names-and-throw-some-candy-in-it cards, but not you. Never you. And I continued that into high school and college in the name of some silly tradition, but really to comfort myself and the idea that I might never get to give you one for real. So I would pretend one day out of the year. I didn't want to lose you either, I didn't want to scare you." 

That was deep. Deeper than expected. Karolina could only listen with rapt attention and kiss her again. "You've really crushed on me since third grade?" 

Nico laughed, the sound music to Karolina. "Yes, really. I've loved you for a long time, Kar." 

She couldn't resist another kiss. And another. And another. Thrilled that she could, thrilled that it was wanted, that she didn't have to ignore the fire in her chest anymore. 

"Why don't we go back inside?" Nico asked, her lips teasing the edge of the blonde's jaw. "We can get dried off again and talk about what we'd like to do, or we can just see how it plays out. Either way, I have pajamas with your name on them, a bottle of wine, and a queen-sized bed with no one to share it with." 

Karolina chuckled at that, and stole one more kiss. "I'd love nothing more." 

FIN

[fxkthatdairy]

The Principal’s Office Part Four~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was the new 5th grade History teacher at The Dolan’s Private Academy in New Jersey. She moved across the country to teach at the school. On the first day, an unexpected visitor stops by her classroom to check in on her. What happens when they fall head over heels for each other?

Warnings:Extreme fluff, slight smut

(Y/N) woke up that next morning around 9:00 and slid out of bed still in a state of bliss of her date with Grayson last night. The furniture was to be delivered around noon so she jumped in the shower real quick. She put on a pair of comfortable shorts and a old t-shirt. She threw her hair in a quick messy bun and went downstairs to make breakfast. She decided to make some pancakes, bacon and eggs. She texted Grayson that the delivery truck would be here around noon and he texted that he was on his way. She turned on some George Michael on her speakers as she cooked. She heard the doorbell ring and paused her cooking to go answer the door. There stood Grayson and as anyone could tell his twin brother.

“Good morning,” she greeted Grayson with a hug and stuck her hand out to shake Ethan’s hand, “I’m (Y/N), you must be Ethan. It’s nice to meet you. Come on in. I’m making breakfast.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” He said and they walked in. She went back to cooking and turned her music off so that she could make conversation with Grayson and Ethan.

“So I’m making pancakes right now and there is bacon and eggs on the island. The plates are in the cabinet near the fridge. Feel free to make yourselves a plate.” She said with a smile as she flipped the pancake. They both nodded their heads and grabbed a plate and made them a plate of food. She placed two pancakes each on their plates and made her own plate of food before sitting next to Grayson on the bar stools. The delivery people rang the doorbell and (Y/N) let them in and they began bringing in the packages and placing them where they were supposed to go. Grayson and Ethan went to help and (Y/N) told the movers where she needed the stuff to go. One of the movers were getting a little too close to (Y/N) then Grayson’s liking. He could tell she was getting uncomfortable and that was seriously infuriating him.

“If you ever need anyone to show you around town sweetcakes, give me a call.” He said and he tried to hand her his card and she refused.

“Please do not call me that and I’m seeing someone at the moment who has showed me the town so I’m not interested.” She said uncomfortably as the man was really in her personal space.

“Don’t worry sweetcakes, he won’t care. Trust me.” He said with a wink and (Y/n) shivered from the cringe. This set Grayson off.

“HE definitely would care. Now would you kindly leave her alone before I call your supervisor and have you fired and reported for sexual harassment.” Grayson said and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder. The feeling of his arm around her shoulder made (Y/N) feel more secure and relaxed.

“Sorry man, didn’t know she was yours.” The man walked off and went back to work. Grayson was definitely going to being telling the supervisor about that employee. Grayson rubbed (Y/N) back soothingly before getting back to work. They weren’t technically dating but that small gesture made (Y/N) feel protected and as if she was in a relationship. The movers unloaded the whole truck and then left, leaving Grayson, Ethan, and (Y/N) to put together the furniture. (Y/N) needed to go grab some food for lunch so she went to Subway, leaving Grayson and Ethan at the house to continue putting together the dining room table as they were previously doing. As soon as she left, the brothers began conversing.

“You love her man. I can tell, you’ve never been this way about anyone before. Have you asked her out officially yet?” Ethan asked.

“No, not yet. Last night on our date, I kissed her and she kissed back. I just got nervous and didn’t ask her to be my girlfriend. When that asshole was talking to her like that, I wanted to punch his teeth out. I feel like she’s my one man.” Grayson said as he screwed in the base of the table.

“Then you need to ask her out dude. I saw the way she looked at you, she loves you Grayson. If you don’t ask her soon it might be too late.” Ethan said as he helped put the last piece of the table together.

(Y/N) came back with the food and handed it out to the guys and ate her food as well. After they finished eating, (Y/N) tried to help as much as Grayson would let her. Truth was Grayson was raised to never let the lady do the hard work, no matter how hard it was on him, he shouldn’t let the ladies do it.

“I can help Gray, I know how to use a screwdriver.” She said as she stood over Grayson who was pouring sweat.

“It’s okay (Y/N), I’ve got it.” He said panting as Ethan handed him another screw.

“I am going to help Gray. You’re dripping in sweat and sound exhausted.” She said and took an extra screwdriver and some screws and began to help screw in the parts to the couch. Grayson sighed as he knew she was going to help anyway.

A few hours later and they were almost done. They had done everything except for (Y/N)’s bedroom. The Twins were currently working on putting together her wooden bed frame while (Y/N) was putting together her TV Stand. She set up all the cords and had the TV completely put together. She even put together her nightstands by herself. Sweaty, tired and out of breath, they all high-fived each other as they had finished.

“Thank you guys so much.” She said as she laid down on her hardwood floors to cool her body down. Grayson sat down right beside her.

“No problem (Y/N). I was half I could help. Well I’ve got to go, my mom needs my help with something.” Ethan said and gave you a quick hug before walking out.

“I’m going to stay a little longer, if you don’t mind.” Grayson said from the floor.

“Of course.” She said and sat down beside him leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow during class. No heels for me.” She said with a laugh. It was only 6:30 and she had a good two hours before she had to start getting ready for bed.

“Definitely,” he said, “(Y/N) I’ve got something to say but I’m scared I’m going to scare you away.”

“Go ahead Gray, nothing you say is going to make me leave.” She said a placed a hand on his shoulder.

“(Y/N), I love you. I know this all seems so sudden but when I laid eyes on you in the store I fell hard. I know this is fast and unusual because I am your boss but let’s throw away labels and look at what’s underneath. It’s just me and you and I fucking love you more than I’ve loved any girl. You are beautiful, intelligent, loyal, trustworthy, honest, and the kindest human. I see myself growing old with you and having a family with you. So please be my girlfriend? I’ll promise to love you, to care for you, to be there for you, to never let work I refer with us, to hold you, to trust you, to rely on you, and to be loyal to only you. So please be mine.” He said sweetly looking directly into her eyes for any signs of rejection. He saw the cogs turning in her brain but she didn’t didn’t give any signs of rejection so he still had hope.

She took a deep breath and dabbed the little tears that were welling in her eyes, no one had every said anything so sweet and from the heart like that to her. “Grayson, you are the most kind-hearted, respectable, honest, trust-worthy, handsome man I know. Of course I would love to be yours. You’ve shown me a side of life I didn’t even know existed. I’ll be your girlfriend Grayson.” She said and kissed him gently on the lips. He kissed back and pull her on top of his lip deepening the kiss. He began trailing his kissed softly down her neck and across her collarbone.

“Gray we are all sweaty.” (Y/N) moaned as Grayson kept softly kissing her neck.

“You’re right. Let’s take a shower.” He said with a smirk and picked her up with ease. (Y/N) let out a small squeak and Grayson carried her to the bathroom.

———————————————————————

Don’t we love cliffhangers 😊😏 Things are about to get really interesting up in here. I promise the next chapter will be longer. As always I hope you guys enjoy. If you have any requests, concepts or blurbs let me know. If you want to be on the tag list let me know 😊💛 love you guys 😘😍

Tag List: @pineappledols @frickin-bats @sweet-dolans @graysavant

[taexual]

HOLIC - 31 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst + fluff + strong language + mild sexual themes aka the whole package

words: 8.3k (oh wow)

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Your morning started an hour early because your phone’s incessant vibrating under your pillow made it feel as though an earthquake had started right in your room. Whining in a manner that resembled the terror-stricken screech of a pterodactyl far more than it resembled a sound any human would make, you pulled your phone out from under your pillow and squinted your eyes to check the time before you checked what had happened.

It was five in the morning. You were more than ready to kill the reason why your phone was blowing up but then you noticed that it was Jaebum. The text messages from him were coming too fast for you to read them, however, and as you turned the chat with him on and began to reply – hoping to ask what his last wish was before you killed him – he must have noticed the three dots, and called you immediately.

Now growing concerned, you picked his call up and cleared your throat before actually speaking.

“He—”

“Jesus, you will never believe this,” Jaebum started before you even managed to get a word out. He sounded out of breath as if he’d been running while texting you. “They called me. They fucking called me! They said they—”

“They?” you repeated, your voice groggy. “Who—”

“Wait, were you sleeping?” he asked, realizing suddenly. “Oh, fuck, it’s—I’m sorry. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Yes,” you said, the exhaustion turning you into the least pleasant person possible. Jaebum paused, sensing you were going to continue. You did, “but you already woke me up, so tell me what happened.”

He debated hanging up and calling you later – when you sounded less dismissive, perhaps – but he realized he couldn’t really keep this to himself any longer – hence the countless text messages he’d sent you.

“My supervisor called,” Jaebum said. You were still too tired to understand why that was a big deal. “He has a night show, so his sleeping schedule is all over the place—anyway. He called to tell me that his team liked it. They liked my song.”

“They—oh, shit!” you sat up in bed, the news waking you up as well as an electric current would. “Jaebum, that’s amazing!”

“God, I know!” his enthusiasm was evident through the phone call and, all of a sudden, you didn’t care about sleep anymore. You found yourself wishing he’d told you this in real life – although, perhaps not so early – so you could have seen the smile on his face. “He said he doesn’t mind playing it on our station but he doesn’t think I should play it on my show – because that’s not fair – so he sent it Cato – he’s the nephew of my boss, so, naturally, his show is at five, right when everyone gets into their cars and turns their radios on as they drive home from work –  and Cato’s going to play it on his show. Today. He—i-it’s happening.”

“Today?!” your voice was a whole octave higher and you weren’t sure if Jaebum could understand what you were saying anymore. “That is fantastic, I’m so happy to hear that!”

“Yeah!” Jaebum sounded like he was seconds away from jumping up and down and, once again, you hated that you couldn’t physically see him in that moment. “So, listen, we have to celebrate. Cancel your plans tonight. I already called Mark. He said he’ll kill me for waking him up this early after we completely empty every drink at his bar.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you said, still giddy. “I’ll join in. But not today, though. Today is all about you. I really can’t believe this.”

“I know,” you could hear his excitement in his voice and it filled your chest with incredible amounts of joy. “I wouldn’t have submitted the song without you. Thank you.”

Your smile widened after hearing this but you shook your head even if he couldn’t see you.

“No, it’s all you,” you told him, sincere. “But I did say your song was amazing, didn’t I? Repeatedly, if I remember correctly. Good to know my taste is universal.”

Jaebum laughed – the sound making your heart beat even faster – before saying, “you know Jackson is going to get jealous that he’d tried to convince me to do it for so long and to no avail, while you did it in just a few days, right?”

“He won’t get jealous,” you disagreed, not trying to act like you knew Jackson better than Jaebum did but knowing that there was no way this was going to be the case. “He won’t care. He’ll just be happy this is happening for you. I am happy, too. Truly. You deserve this.”

The silence on the other end of the call would have made you think he’d hung up on you but you could hear his soft breaths so you knew he was stilll on the line. It killed you not to know what he was thinking, though.

“Thank you,” he ended up repeating. “You have no idea how much you’ve done for me.”

The sincerity in his voice was an indication that he wasn’t just thanking you for helping him out with the song. He was grateful for everything. And he’d meant it when he said you had no idea about any of it because if you had, you wouldn’t have been struggling to breathe all of a sudden because his voice was so gentle and so different to yesterday when he’d told you he wasn’t interested in dating.

“I’ll text you later,” Jaebum started to speak just when your face fell at the memory. “But find a free moment at five, would you?”

“I will,” you assured him, your heart full of warm emotion despite the bitter disappointment of yesterday slowly creeping in. “Beware, though, all of my text messages from that point onward will have more exclamation points than actual words.”

He chuckled at that, making you smile and strengthening your fight with yourself as you tried to keep thinking straight. Only when the call finished were you able to finally exhale, some of the wistful excitement leaving your body along with your breath.

There was still quite some time before you had to wake up to get ready for work but you already knew you weren’t going to be sleeping anymore. The excitement of knowing that Jaebum was just one step away from achieving success had filled your bloodstream with enough adrenaline to last the whole day and the sudden disappointment that followed when you recalled his confession – which, essentially, firmly locked the entrance gates to an actual, real relationship you’d thought you’ve been approaching with Jaebum – only seemed to strengthen the deadly amount of epinephrine inside of you.

You fell back onto your pillow, face-down. Screaming seemed to fit your mood – the pillow would have muffled the sound – but you didn‘t feel like screaming. Your desperate need to be with Jaebum didn‘t manifest itself in an aggressive way. Instead of wanting to yell and throw things around because, as it turned out, even after all this time, you still didn‘t understand him, you just wanted to sigh, groan, and... give up, really.

You‘d decided some time ago that you weren‘t going to care about the lack of official labels but, clearly, some part of you had thought that the label would come... eventually. That is, you thought that fooling around with each other as roommates was just one state that you would, sooner or later, move on from and, consequently, turn into something more. But, then again, you’ve already moved on from being just roommates. You already were something more.

And, for the love of all things holy, now you knew you needed the damn label to go with it.

Kissing Jaebum without knowing what would happen next was one thing – the ignorance was, oh, so blissful – but kissing him while knowing that he was never going to want anything official with you was an entirely different one. The first instance was pathetically promising. The second one was just pathetic.

Realizing that, ever since you‘d moved here, you‘d always hovered in this tiny—oddly comfortable—space between promising and pathetic, you turned back around and focused your eyes on the ceiling instead. You‘d reached a decision – well, your heart reached it for you – that was as neutral as you thought it to be possible.

You‘d wait.

You didn‘t even know that Jaebum had considered starting a relationship with you when he’d first met you, and he confessed it after some mild prodding from you. And, similarly, you didn‘t know that he‘d changed his mind about this and was now, apparently, not really interested in any relationship, but he confessed that, too. Although, frankly, you‘d have preferred it if he hadn‘t. Ignorance wasn‘t just blissful. It was also comfortable.

So, now you were going to wait. Maybe – your poor hopeful heart whispered – you‘d misunderstood something. Maybe Jaebum had meant something else and he was just waiting for the right moment to make himself clear. Again.

Not pressuring him into admitting something wasn‘t a tactic you‘ve tried before because you were generally a very I-need-this-now sort of person – which, of course, wasn‘t a very good trait but you‘d have been lying if you said you‘d been working to get rid of it – but this was bigger than anything you‘ve dealt with before. This wasn‘t a surprisingly abusive ex-girlfriend and this wasn‘t a purposefully secretive hobby of creating unbelievably good music.

This wasn‘t even you and Jaebum. This was you-and-Jaebum. As an item. As one item.

So, you were going to wait and focus on his music because that‘s what he needed you do to right now. He needed you to be his roommate and his friend. And that’s what you were going to be – or try to be – the whole night tonight.

Tonight, you were going to wait.

After having a semi-decent day at work – with just the right amount of actual working involved so you didn‘t have to spend the whole day wallowing in your utter confusion; but, then again, no day that involved communicating with snobby attitudes and overly arrogant customers was truly a decent day – you nearly lost all of your patience and even debated quitting when right at the end of your shift – and about twenty minutes until the radio show which would play Jaebum‘s song was supposed to start – a lady, that had brought her offspring with her to the gallery, had turned away for “one second,” and the unsupervised child proceeded to use a crayon he‘d snuck in somehow – not that there was a warning against crayons at the gallery but you‘d figured it would have been a given – to paint all over the walls of the first floor.

At that point, everyone was already tired and excited about closing up so, by the time you noticed the surprising neon red stripe running below the paintings exhibited on the walls of the gallery, there was already no point in stopping the child. His mother – on the phone with someone now – noticed the decorated walls at about the same time as you did and, once your eyes met, you thought you could see multiple emotions pass on the woman‘s face but remorse wasn‘t one of them.

She was shocked and, most likely, embarrassed. But she didn‘t feel like this was her fault. People that came to this gallery rarely did, so, straightening your posture once she took a step in your direction, you were prepared to listen to her excuse that was, really, only meant to restore her dignity and not actually explain why she‘d thought leaving her child alone was a good idea.

As it turned out, you were only partially right as the first words that passed her lips when she reached you were, “is this going to cost much?” followed by, “and how long is this going to take? I have somewhere to be in fifteen minutes.”

It was going to cost much – although, she was going to have to take this up with your supervisor, Eva – but it wasn’t about the money. Not that she’d ever understand it – clearly, she, just like everyone else in her position, was the kind of rich person that assumed money solved everything. But you couldn’t very well wipe the walls with money. And someone was going to have to wipe the fresh layer of crayon away.

“I’m sorry,” was what Eva told you when you gave her your best version of the puppy dog eyes after the woman had left – and taken her devil of a child with her; you thought he even snuck his tongue out at you on his way out. “You were covering this floor. Did you have plans tonight?”

There were eight minutes left until the radio show and Eva didn’t sound like she was going to excuse you from fixing this mess just because you’d made plans. She looked ready to give you a friendly pat on the shoulder and a pitiful look because you were covering this floor with two other girls – a real honor to cover the main floor of the gallery but you’d have traded it for anything – so, therefore, you were supposed to supervise the stray child. And now all three of you were going to pay by staying after work.

You were so angry – and even swore that if you’d ever have children, you would never let them use anything as unexpectedly dangerous as crayons – that, as soon as you started to clean the wall, you no longer felt like listening to the radio show at all. But then, choosing to make rational instead of emotional decisions, you groaned and pulled your earphones out from your pocket, plugging them into your phone. Your shift had, technically, just ended so you didn’t worry too much about being caught using your phone.

The radio show was just starting and the host, Cato, as Jaebum had told you, was introducing himself. You had no doubt he was going to play a few of the more popular songs before getting to the new ones, so you took this time to calm yourself down.

Jaebum had texted you before, checking if you’d make it to Mark’s bar by six-thirty tonight but, by the looks of this, you were only going to be there at eight the earliest. For some reason, however, the frustration you’d felt after seeing the child draw on the walls of the gallery had merged with the frustration you’ve been feeling ever since Jaebum had told you he wasn’t interested in a relationship, and thus, you suddenly didn’t feel like warning him that you were going to be running very late.

The bitter part of your mind told you that he just wouldn’t care anyway – and why would he? He didn’t want a relationship with you so why did it matter if his roommate wasn’t going to be there, celebrating with him? You wanted to show him you weren’t going to let him use your weaknesses against you and kiss you whenever he pleased – not that you minded, honestly, but this was your dignity at stake – and then claim he wasn’t interested in a relationship. You might have been dying to have him close to you at all times, but you had some self-respect, too.

But then you heard it. The first chords of “Don’t Touch Me” played in your earphones and, all of a sudden, your hand was wiping the wall of the gallery completely reflexively, because your mind had been transported back to Jackson’s studio when you’d first heard the song.

Listening to it now felt just as ethereal except now you knew you weren’t the only person hearing Jaebum’s voice as he sang his heart out. Now you were sharing the magical experience of his music with other listeners, some of which had undoubtedly written down the name of the song so they could look up the artist later. Jaebum’s song was no longer something that only a handful of people knew about – it was out there for the whole world to hear now.

People never think they take anything for granted until it’s taken away from them and you realized just how personal—how intimate—it had felt to be a part of the selected few who knew about this remarkable part of Jaebum. You bit your lip, realizing that anyone could listen to his music now. It didn’t make the song feel any less exceptional, not at all. But it did make you feel a lot less special.

So, getting your phone out, you texted Jaebum back because, even though he may not have wanted you in the way that you wanted him, the dread of wasting the bond you’ve created with him was too great. You were still, officially, just roommates and it hurt—and frustrated you, too—to think that you’d never be anything more but you didn’t think your self-respect – or, now that you thought back on it, perhaps it was your aggravation – was worth more than what you had with him.

You still wanted to know Jaebum. You still wanted him close. But maybe, in order to appease to your wishes and to your dignity, it was time you stopped kissing him. Maybe, your decision to wait included a pause on every physical activity that involved you and him.

When you got to Mark’s bar, nearly everyone was already drunk. Jackson greeted you at the door – he was truly just as excited about this as you and Jaebum were – and nearly spilled his drink all over your top when he leaned in for a hug. Affection was, obviously, not a foreign concept to him and it only seemed to intensify when he was drunk.

The number of people you didn’t recognize here didn’t surprise you – mostly because you weren’t sure if they were all Jaebum’s friends or if they were just random bar-goers who’d joined in after they saw that Jaebum was celebrating – but, when you caught the sight of Kiera – by all means, your best friend – talking to Mark by the bar, you stopped short.

She noticed you almost immediately and, after hopping off the stool excitedly, approached you with her arms outstretched.

“Hi!” she shrieked, always loud when she was drunk. “You’re finally here!”

“I am,” you replied, hugging her back, still surprised—but not disappointed—to see her here. “And you’re here, too.”

“Yes! Mark called me and told me you and Jackson had kicked Jaebum’s ass and got him to play his song on the radio,” she revealed, pulling you towards the bar by your hand. “I listened to it and, Jesus Christ, what has he been doing all this time?! The song is amazing.”

“It is,” you nodded, unable to resist a smile. Hearing her praise Jaebum made you feel even prouder of him. “So, hey, Mark called you, huh?”

Kiera rolled her eyes, giving the aforementioned bartender a nod – Mark’s smile seemed to widen when he saw that she was back at the bar – and then turning back to look at you and your smirk.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned. “I came because I was looking for a reason to get drunk.”

“You’re not that big on drinking,” you pointed out, the teasing grin not leaving your features.

“Fine. Then I came because I was excited to meet the creator of such a phenomenal song.”

You were basically the Cheshire cat now. “You’ve met him before.”

Kiera rolled her eyes. “You really want me to admit that I only came because I missed my best friend, don’t you?”

She threw an arm over your shoulders and you groaned, genuinely impressed—and annoyed—by her ability to avoid the topics she didn’t want—or wasn’t ready—to talk about. You were going to drop this, though, and just allow her to talk about something that she was more comfortable with but then Mark brought you and her drinks, and Kiera’s entire face lit up. You truly couldn’t help yourself.

“So, it’s me you’ve missed, yeah?” you asked her, hiding your smile behind your cocktail glass.

“Yes,” Kiera said with a straight face. You really could have learned a thing or two about avoiding uncomfortable topics from her because, somehow, your group of friends always chose you to tease. “I haven’t seen you in too long, I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed, taking a sip and instantly feeling the alcohol hit your head. Mark must have used three parts vodka and one part cranberry juice when making this instead of the other way around. “Wow, this is hard—uh, right. And h-how did you know I was going to be here? I was late but I could have just never shown up.”

Kiera almost sighed, your hypothetical situation not sounding realistic in the slightest.

“Of course you were going to be here,” she said, “because Jaebum is here.”

You took another sip, enjoying the taste more this time, which could have only meant that the alcohol was doing its’ job properly.

“What?” you asked her, raising your eyebrows. “Are you implying I follow him wherever he goes?”

“No. I’m saying you follow each other,” Kiera replied, finishing her drink in one big gulp. She might not have gone out to drink very often, but she still knew how to. “It’s been impossible for any of us to see you without getting a glimpse of Jaebum, too.”

You shook your head, finishing your cocktail as well. “That’s not true. Hyojin and I went to our café the other day and—”

“—and then Jaebum called you, and you ran home to him,” Kiera finished for you.

“I—” you stopped, your stomach clenching. Your eyes were now on your empty glass on the bartop. “I didn’t run.”

Your friend had a victorious smile on but you weren’t looking at her.

“I wasn’t there,” she said, “but, trust me, you ran.”

“Okay, I don’t like where this is going,” you waved your hands around before covering your face. Kiera took this moment to wave Mark over just as you added, “let’s go back to me teasing you about Mark.”

She paused, hoping the bartender didn’t hear it but, just like always, she regained her balance quickly.

“Or,” Kiera started, “how about you go find your boy? I’ve seen him circle the bar three times before you got here and either he really wants to pee and can’t find the bathroom – which isn’t likely since, according to Mark, Jaebum has been here, at least, a hundred times – or he’s looking for you.”

Your heart rate picked up at the sound of that. You could tell that your entire body was on fire just imagining Jaebum waiting for you – your face, especially; your flustered state was probably obvious and visible from three galaxies away – and you did not want this to be the state that he saw you in for the first time today.

“He’s not my boy,” you said in a small voice.

“Oh, honey,” Kiera sighed, her hands on her hips. She sounded oddly motherly when she said, “he is.”

You shook your head, not particularly eager to inform her of Jaebum’s confession about the first night you’ve met and then the dismissal of your developing relationship that had followed at the ice cream store.

“No—” you started but your friend wasn’t going to have it.

“You may not have admitted it to yourselves yet but please don’t think the rest of us are as oblivious as you two are, yeah?” she said sternly. “Now go. He’s waited long enough.”

You huffed, stepping off the bar stool per her order and deciding to add one last, “you only want me gone so you can go back to talking to Mark,” before you walked away.

Kiera laughed – not defending herself this time – and watched you disappear deeper into the crowd as you looked for Jaebum.

You found him at the very back of the bar, lounging on one of the couches in a private booth, Jackson and four other guys you’ve never seen before surrounding him. Jaebum looked cheerful – a bright smile adorned his features and made your stomach do cartwheels – and intoxicated just like everyone else here. His cheeks were rosy and he looked visibly relaxed, except his eyes kept drifting away from his friends as he scanned the club.

You could have passed out right then and there when his eyes landed on you and you saw him stand up immediately. His friends all turned to look but Jackson was the only one who understood why Jaebum was suddenly leaving the table mid-conversation.

“You’re here!” was the first thing Jaebum said to you once he stopped close enough for you to hear him, his friends’ eyes following him. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

He’d grabbed your hand – as if that was the most natural thing to do – and lead you to his booth where Jackson was sitting with a shit-eating grin on his face, and the other four guys looked pleasantly surprised.

“Alright, that’s Jackson, you know him already,” Jaebum began right away as one of his friends stood up to let you and Jaebum sit down on the couch next to each other. The same friend debated standing to give you two more space but then he decided to sit down next to you, after all – which prompted Jaebum to unconsciously pull you closer to him. “The one next to you is Jinyoung, he must be my oldest friend.”

The boy next to you scoffed. “Nice way to make me sound like I’m eighty.”

“I mean I’ve known him the longest,” Jaebum clarified, leaning back in his seat and rolling his eyes. “The one across from you is Yugyeom, he’s basically a child so we’re not really sure if he can even drink legally—”

“Hey!” came Yugyeom’s protest.

“—and the one next to him is BamBam,” Jaebum continued, “but he’s pissed because he has to be up early tomorrow and I refuse to care. Youngjae is also looking glum because his dog had some sort of an emergency today – everything’s fine now, though – but wait until he’s had a couple of drinks, you’ll love him. And, yeah. These guys here, along with Mark at the bar, are all my friends. The ones that matter, anyway.”

You nodded, giving the boys at the table a smile. You realized that these had to be the people Jaebum was talking about at the ice cream store yesterday – the friends that stuck with him throughout his relationship with Suji and after. The real ones.

They all looked welcoming enough but meeting new people was always a stressful experience. Knowing that these guys cared about Jaebum probably as much as you did, however, made you relax for one quick moment until your mind conjured up a scenario where his friends absolutely hated the very thought of you, and Jaebum moved out because he valued the opinion of his friends too much.

But then you took a deep breath and returned to the decision that you’d made this morning – you were going to worry about one thing at a time. Tonight was about Jaebum’s music. His friends' potential hatred for you could be handled tomorrow.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you settled on the basic response. “I’d say Jaebum told me so much about you but, honestly, he’s not much of a talker.”

Yugyeom was the first to laugh as he nodded eagerly, agreeing. “We weren’t aware he even had a roommate until a few days ago when Jackson had let it slip.”

That’s right, you were his roommate. Although, based on how close you were sitting to each other right now, one could have assumed differently.

You swallowed, reminding yourself that you’d decided you weren’t going to give in to your impulses anymore – at least not until you’ve reached a decision what your relationship with each other was – and tuned back in to the conversation his friends were having – it was BamBam, this time, ranting about how Jaebum never told them anything until the very last minute.

Jaebum kept rolling his eyes and sending soft threats their way each time his friends said something he’d have rather kept quiet about, but you could tell that these were his people. He was completely himself around them and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched them interact. It felt important to be in the presence of his closest circle of friends; it felt like you mattered to him just as much as the rest of them did.

As the night progressed, the boys all expressed their support, making it clear that they were just as proud of Jaebum as you were, all while still not ceasing to tease him about the smallest things. The waitress had stopped by your booth multiple times, and slowly, you felt yourself give in to the alcohol as a fog started to form in your mind and your mood kept lifting with every joke that Jackson cracked.

A few more drinks later, your table seemed to split into two worlds. There were the rest of the boys, getting louder with each glass that they’ve emptied, and there were you and Jaebum, seemingly lost to the rest of the world as you cuddled close to each other, his hand still on your waist and your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Why were you late?” he asked quietly but you were so close to him, you were able to hear him even through the sound of his friends’ laughter.

“A catastrophe at the gallery,” you replied with a sigh, your fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of Jaebum’s cardigan that had come to rest on your thigh when you two sat down. “A kid got loose and decided to decorate the pale walls with a red crayon.”

“Oh, shit,” Jaebum replied but you could tell the image had made him smile. “Whoever decided to give kids crayons was a real asshole.”

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. “I had to go around, cleaning that mess and now I can’t even feel my legs anymore.”

For someone as drunk as him, he truly reacted quickly and as soon as you’d said that, Jaebum was suddenly lifting your legs up and dropping them on his lap, completely ignorant to the raised eyebrows on the faces of the boys around you.

“Why did you wear heels?” he asked you, one of his hands remaining on your waist while he placed his other one on your legs, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on your thigh.

“Because I wanted to look nice,” you replied, leaning against him because not leaning against him was suddenly too hard.

“You always look nice,” Jaebum replied, his quiet voice managing to drown out the loud noises of the bar.

The two of you would have never noticed that the rest of the boys had gotten up and left if it weren’t for Jackson who’d patted Jaebum on the back on his way out of the booth. And even though it was just you two sitting at the table now, you remained pressed tightly against each other.

Somehow, you’d let go of Jaebum’s cardigan and found your fingertips tracing the veins on Jaebum’s hand instead, as he’d stilled, letting his hand rest on your thigh. Your feather-light touch and the warmth of your body pressed against his only seemed to amplify the effect of the alcohol and Jaebum suddenly couldn’t handle having you so close to him and not doing anything about it.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked, turning his hand palm up so he could take your hand into his instead.

You raised your head to look at him. “When I texted your ad?”

“No,” he replied, intertwining your fingers. “In real life.”

“When you tried to kick me out of the apartment?”

“Ah,” he chuckled, surprised that your memory worked this well even after all of these drinks. “No. Before that.”

“Before—” you frowned and then realized what he’d been talking about. The fateful one-night-stand. “Oh.”

Jaebum could tell that you’ve remembered as he nodded, watching your reaction. “Yeah.”

“You know I remember,” you told him then, your eyes on his. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Yeah, but you always focus on what happened after,” he said. “But do you ever think about the night itself?”

It was already warm in the club but his question only seemed to make you feel hotter. The intense look in his eyes wasn’t helping much, either. Although intoxicated, there was still a certain power to his gaze, and you found yourself looking away for just a moment so you could find a way to reply.

The night you’ve met always lingered in the back of your mind but you never focused on it, not wanting it to further speed up the process of falling for him. You’ve already had enough on your plate as it was, and reminiscing about how his skin had felt like pressed against yours was only going to complicate everything even more.

“W-well, I’ve been sort of busy trying to figure out what’s going on with you and me at the moment,” you admitted. “But have you, uh… thought about it?”

His response seemed to come out in a breath that caused shivers to run down your spine, “all the time.”

You were afraid to inhale – let alone move – in case you’d scare him off from continuing and Jaebum – seemingly afraid of the same thing – tightened his grip on you by pulling you onto his lap until you were straddling him and then wrapping his arms around your waist protectively.

You watched him, completely helpless and lost in the darkness – and the warmth, the lust, the love hiding there – inside of his eyes.

“You know, after all this time, I’ve finally managed to convince myself that you’re not the kind of person who would completely overcome someone’s life,” he said, the past doubts and insecurities sticking their necks out for the briefest of moments as Jaebum moved one of his hands to your face, no longer able to resist not touching your lips with the tips of his fingers. “But I’ve been wrong.”

You couldn’t find your voice. “W-what?”

“You have taken over my life completely,” he confessed, his eyes following the movements of his fingers as they gently brushed against your lower lip. “You weren’t even trying and you’re just everywhere. In every corner of my mind. In every part of my world. I can’t escape you.”

“Do you…” you started to say, your throat drying up, “do you want to?”

“No,” he shook his hand, pulling his hand away from your face and bringing it back to your waist. “God, no. It drives me crazy when I can’t stop thinking about you but I-I can’t imagine myself not doing that anymore.”

At that point, you were certain that the sound of both of your hearts banging against your ribcages – ready to explode in one big fire – was heard across the entire bar, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as you whispered, “you never told me you thought about me.”

“You never tell me what you’re thinking about, either,” Jaebum replied, the corners of his lips lifting. “We’re not the kind of people who share our deepest desires with each other.”

“Deepest desires,” you repeated, tasting the words on your tongue and making Jaebum’s smile widen. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, straightening in his seat until his chest was pressed against yours. “They run deep.”

“How deep?” you asked shakily, your breath mixing with his.

“Very deep,” Jaebum replied, finally allowing himself to lower his eyes to your lips. He’d never thought he’d have this much self-control even if staying away from you was starting to get simply impossible. “But I feel like they’re rushing to the surface too fast for me to stop them.”

The distance between your lips was virtually non-existent now but the unexpected surge of adrenaline that had erupted into your bloodstream at the prospect of him kissing you again suddenly reminded you of the decision you’d made earlier today, before all the alcohol and all the touching. You pressed a hand on his chest.

“Jaebum,” a desperate whisper left your lips. “N-no.”

He pulled back, confusion taking over his features. “No?”

You shook your head, your heart hurting with each step that you took in the opposite decision of what you’d truly wanted. But you knew you needed to do this. You’ve allowed your heart to make decisions for you long enough, it was about time you made decisions with your head.

“No,” you repeated. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“Y-you don’t?” Jaebum was obviously surprised to hear this, his eyes blinking in confusion before he leaned back in his seat, putting more distance between you and him. “Okay. Okay, then we won’t do anything.”

He looked like you’d slapped him across the face and you bit your lip, your heart now beyond ready to claw out of your chest. “It’s not because I don’t want to…”

He frowned, the familiar coldness returning to his eyes. He’d started to shut himself off from you again, yet he still asked, “why, then?”

“Because of what you’d said,” you replied, wishing for this conversation to be over before it even started, or, at least, wishing you weren’t sitting on his lap when you talked about this because, aside from not being able to think clearly when he was so close to you, the position also didn’t allow you both many opportunities to stand up and leave if all of this got too much.

Jaebum, however, despite being confused, didn’t share the same mindset and was not even planning on letting go of you until he understood what you were getting at. The rejection stung but if there was a chance he was still going to kiss you at the end of the night, he was willing to clear up everything you needed him to.

“What did I say?” he asked, a weird vibrating sound accompanying his question. It could have been a text message on one of your phones but neither of you cared about that right now.

“You said you don’t want a relationship,” you told him, your eyes not leaving his.

Jaebum didn’t seem to recollect the exact moment he’d told you this as his eyebrows furrowed deeper, so you took a breath – the first one since you sat down in this booth with him – and reminded him.

“That day at the ice cream store,” you said. “I asked you why you weren’t going to ask the waitress out and—”

“I remember,” he cut you off, then. His heart had started to race again as he realized that this might have been the reason why you looked so distant when the two of you had walked out of the store that day. “I didn’t mean to say I didn’t want a relationship.”

“What?” you didn’t get it. “You said you weren’t interested in dating.”

“I said I didn’t want to date anyone else,” he repeated before adding a very quick but very necessary, “that’s not you.”

It was only in passing that you’d considered misunderstanding him but now that he’s confirmed you’ve misinterpreted his words, it was very hard to swallow all of a sudden. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Clearing your throat, you tried to keep your eyes on his but his gaze had warmed up and the iciness you’d seen form inside of it before had melted now that you understood what had gone down between you two at the store.

“You clearly have problems expressing yourself,” you stated.

Jaebum was smirking as his eyes followed the movement of your lips when you spoke. “You’re clearly very dense.”

Silence followed when neither of you managed to find the next words, both too focused on each other to think about what to say. Although neither of you moved, the distance between you – that had grown so inexplicably large when you refused to let him kiss you – seemed to decrease with each breath that your neglected lungs produced.

“I’m going to die if I don’t kiss you,” Jaebum revealed, his entire heart hidden in these words.

You realized that you were anxious. The uncertainty wasn’t a problem before but now that you’ve stepped over the line and acknowledged what you’d been doing, you knew you couldn’t back away. You’ve thought you’d focus on his music but that wasn’t what Jaebum was doing, so you couldn’t wait to have this conversation anymore. Now was your only chance to escape the gloomy state of 'unknown.’

“I—” you started to say.

Jaebum shook his head; he was through with talking. “Tell me you don’t want me to.”

“I-I can’t tell you that,” you replied but the same concerned expression did not leave your features.

“Well, then what is it?” Jaebum asked, no longer afraid to sound desperate. “What do you need me to do? Do you need the label?”

“No, I—I don’t know,” you were breathing much faster now. “I don’t think we should keep kissing each other when we don’t really know what we’re doing.”

It felt good to bring your thoughts into being. It felt good to finally acknowledge it. But you hadn’t expected it to also feel terrifying as Jaebum spent one long moment, watching your eyes instead of replying.

“We’re going to kiss,” he said, then, “that’s what we’re going to be doing.”

“And after?”

“Well, kiss again, hopefully.”

You closed your eyes, the demanding tone of your voice matching the desperation in his. “But what does it mean?”

Jaebum was losing it. His oxygen supply was already short when you were this close and his craving for you was just wretched, at his point. It was tearing him apart at the seams; he’d never thought anticipation could ever be so strong.

“Does it have to mean something?” he asked, his voice exasperated.

“Yeah, actually,” you spoke. “But if it doesn’t mean anything to you, I—”

You’d looked away from him for the first time that night – thoughts of standing up and walking away slowly spreading to your mind – and that was enough for Jaebum to pull you closer to him until your eyes were on him and your chests were pressed against each other again, allowing your hearts to beat the same rhythm. He wasn’t going to let you leave.

“Fuck. No. It means everything to me. Okay?” Jaebum said, his chest rising each time yours fell and falling each time yours rose. “I’ll give you anything, any label you need, anything you need, I just—fuck.”

His face was so close to yours now, you could almost feel his lips brush against yours with each word that he spoke. You wondered if this was what hell felt like – having something you want right at the tip of your fingers but being forced to resist it.

“Jaebum—”

“Tell me to leave you alone and I’ll do it. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give you all of it,” he pleaded, “just… talk to me. Please tell me what you need.”

“I…” it only took you a second to find the words because there wasn’t much that you needed in that moment, or in general. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” Jaebum exhaled against your lips. “You already have me.”

And in a climax of your and his desperations mixing together, your lips finally touched. Your rapid breaths only seemed to grow heavier each time your lips connected in a frantic kiss, your hands holding onto each other as if one of you was going to disappear if the other had let go. As if one of you was going to pull away and say something else.

But there was nothing else that was left to say. Not in words, at least. So, you let your lips do the talking, his tongue transmitting all of his feelings for you as he tasted the inside of your mouth, nearly suffocating from his own longing. Kissing was supposed to put an end to your desperation, it was supposed to finally satisfy your need to have each other close, and yet it wasn’t enough. You were pressed against each other but it wasn’t close enough.

Every bit of your body that wasn’t touching his was screaming and even when you leaned into him harder, your bodies seemingly merging together, it still didn’t seem to be enough. Every time he pulled away just slightly to inhale, your mouth burned, aching to have his lips pressed against yours again.

Your movements were fluid – granted, you’ve had practice – and you never once interrupted each other by moving your hands the wrong way or clashing your teeth against each other. You kissed like you were reading each other’s minds and, as your tongues toyed with each other, only deepening the kiss, it truly felt like you were finally revealing your deepest secrets to each other. And they didn’t need to be spoken aloud anymore because now you’ve learned how to talk without using words.

You thought you’d been standing at the gates of hell when Jaebum’s lips were so close to yours and yet they weren’t touching you but now, as you kissed him back, you knew you’ve transcended every divine place and had created your own heaven in the back of Mark’s club, seated on Jaebum’s lap, his mouth on yours.

Suddenly, however, you felt him still against you as a loud tap was heard against the leather of the couch next to you.

“Nice going you two,” a familiar voice spoke up, and you and Jaebum pulled away from each other, exchanging a look and then turning your heads to catch Jackson’s grinning face. “You owe Kiera fifty bucks, by the way. She’d just told us about your bet.”

You couldn’t remember any bets. Actually, you could barely remember the existence of anything when your lips were still swollen from Jaebum’s kisses and his eyes, when you turned to look at him, possessed nothing but passion.

“Thanks,” Jaebum finally acknowledged his friend, clearing his throat. “Jackson.”

“I came to pick my phone up,” he added, leaning down to pick his phone up from the couch opposite yours – that explained the vibrating sound you’ve heard before – and then giving you another teasing grin. “Not that you’ll need me, but I’ll be by the bar. Have fun!”

Your face was in your hands by the tame Jackson left and Jaebum sighed, pulling your palms away from your cheeks.

“God,” you shook your head as soon as his hands gripped your wrists, not letting you hide your face from him. “We’re—”

“At a bar, yeah,” Jaebum nodded, permanently amused by your flustered state. “I’m really regretting not celebrating at our apartment.”

You exhaled slowly, letting your hands drop to your sides and watching his hands follow, a part of him always touching a part of you.

“Well,” you started, “we can always celebrate later.”

His breath hitched just for a moment. “Fuck. Yeah, we can.”

He leaned into you before you could react properly, his lips returning to the place they belonged – right between yours – in a slow but steady manner. You kissed him back – you always kissed him back – but, when you pulled away to inhale a moment later, you started to speak before he could prolong the kiss.

“Maybe we should slow down?” you said but it didn’t sound like a statement. You weren’t waiting for his approval, at that point; you were waiting for his permission because if he’d said no, you knew you would have done just about anything he wanted.

“Yeah,” Jaebum said, surprising you. “Maybe.”

“I don’t want to, though,” you added, biting your lip now. You didn’t want to stay away from him but, at the same time, you didn’t want the confessions of tonight to signify a gunshot, starting a mere sprint. You didn’t want this to be a sprint. You wanted this to be a marathon – one that you’d spend every day of your near future running. “But we live together.”

Jaebum nodded. “We do.”

“So, we should probably take it slow,” you decided.

“Yes,” he said, his responses lacking the vocabulary.

You smiled at that. “Are you just going to agree with everything I say?”

“Yes,” he admitted, shameless.

“Are you hoping that will allow you to kiss me again?”

“Absolutely.”

He closed the distance between you as soon as he heard you chuckle, but this time, he pulled away after one quick peck – a short reminder that this was something that he could do now.

“Are you still tired?” he asked.

Truthfully, you’ve never felt less tired in your life but you were able to recognize that this state was temporary. Once the high of kissing Jaebum would fade, you’d go right back to exhaustion.

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly.

“Should we go home?” he seemed to take the role of asking questions now.

You weren’t sure about that, either, though.

“I don’t want to. I like it here,” you told him, your hips pressed firmly against his as you returned your hands to his chest – the beating of his heart sounding just as hypnotizing as his voice in his first song had sounded. “Right here.”

“Oh, I like it right here, too,” Jaebum replied, a smile spreading across his face as his hands found their way around your waist again. “But I’d like it more if fewer people were involved.”

You agreed and yet you refrained from expressing your wish to leave because wanting Jaebum all for yourself seemed selfish on an occasion like this.

“It’s your night, though,” you said tentatively. “We’re celebrating your song.”

He wasn’t catching up. “What’s your point?”

“You can’t leave,” you said. “All these people—”

“I appreciate them coming,” Jaebum nodded, his eyes on you just like they had been from the moment he’d laid his eyes on you tonight. “But I only need you.”

The feelings that his words had provoked rushed to the surface before you could stop them and you were the one pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips this time. You nearly collapsed when you felt his lips stretch into a smile as he responded to you.

“We should go socialize,” you said after pulling away. “Well, you should. I’m going to wash my face with some cold water.”

“Oh, no, no,” Jaebum disagreed, helping you relocate yourself from his lap onto the couch next to him. The cold that engulfed your bodies when you were no longer pressed against each other was so surprising, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. “If I have to walk around, talking to people while that’s the last thing I want to do, you’re doing the same.”

“They’re your friends,” you reminded him.

“And I love them,” he nodded, standing up and helping you stand with him by holding your hand. “And I know they’ll understand so I’m going to be embracing my egotistic side tonight. It is my night, after all.”

“Hmm,” you were curious. “And what is that supposed to imply?”

“It’s supposed to imply that I might find myself in the bathroom of the bar in the next few minutes,” he replied, “and I’m not going to feel bad about it.”

You loved the mischievous glint in his eye. “And what are you planning on doing in that bathroom?”

“Oh, you’ll know,” Jaebum replied, his lips by your ear as he guided you out of the booth, “because you’ll be right there with me.”

   chapter directory

[shitihaveheardatwork]

Nvm, always trust your gut lads

Second day on the job was a trip and then some.

First day just me and the new boss, and without the buffer of Lisa, Director Wallace has some new colors to show off to me, his fellow white male.

I’ll just itemize the gold here:

   -”The thing about Charlottesville though, those guys had permits. You think it would have gotten that much attention if there wasn’t all that unauthorized counter-protesting? Here’s what you do, right? You go through the proper channels, throw a bigger and better rally. Have Michael Jackson or someone play the thing, everyone has a lot of fun. That’s a better message, isn’t it? Besides, we have a little thing called the first amendment”

   -”This branch shouldn’t even exist. It’s all politics. We are at the mercy of the mayor’s office”

   -”I hear a lot of talk about internet as a utility, but think about it. Only the market can provide better internet, because you have the ability to buy a better connection.”

   -”Social media is probably the worst thing to ever happen to society. Say what you will about Trump but if he’d gotten reelected, some of these tech companies would be getting torn apart. The democratic party, tech is their top donors. I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

   -”The LGBTQ et cetera et cetera et cetera, they’ve been taking refuge in libraries. Now, I’m cool. I have a cousin. He was Jeff and now he’s Henrietta, do whatever you want, fine by me. Just don’t shove a flag in my face, you know?”

   -”I liked Green Day’s early stuff, but once they got political, ugh.”

This list isn’t exhaustive. There’s definitely some stuff that I didn’t get a chance to scribble down in my little book before it got shunted out of my brain hole.

It seems though that I seem to be working for gamer Ron Swanson in a kilt.

Something about me, I’m the last one of the 4 F’s. Out of Fight, Flight, Freeze, Faun, I’m faun. I’m not proud of it, it’s just part of how I’m wired. I’ll minimize situations by being nice and agreeable. I’ve never been happier to have a face mask in my whole life, because all I had to do was just nod and not do anything weird with my eyes.

Every once in awhile he’d say something like “if I say something you want to hear, just tell me and I��ll shut up.” And sure, I’d love to take him up on it but like... I need this job, man. I gotta come back here every day. I don’t have the guts to tell him how profoundly asinine his worldview is, and if I did I don’t know if I’d have the guts to come back to the office after explaining it. 

On the plus side, he’s pretty agreeable as long as you aren’t talking about like... anything that effects society in any way at all. He seems like a genuinely well-meaning and nice guy as far as two white men talking goes, because he seemed ready to put me on a rocket to Planet Success.

I don’t know if he does this with new hires or what, but I also got about a full hour of schpiel about career advancement. He told me point blank that my job was a starter job and if I found something better to take it at once. He asked me questions about my interests and my career plan, and seemed genuinely invested in me getting where I wanted to go.

That said, one of his recommendations was also to check LinkedIn and Indeed every day. The advice was kind of all over the place, but I wrote down some webinars and stuff he said to check out.

Like I said a few paragraphs ago, I need this job. I’m definitely gonna be applying to other things, checking the listings, but I’ll make peace some way or another with the situation.

Wallace manages a few branches, and told me straight up that I’m basically the branch supervisor in all but name and that I’m gonna have the place to myself a lot, which is good for several reasons, the foremost being that the cherrybomb that is my bi anarchist heart doesn’t light and explode all over my boss.

It’s also good because he’s made it very clear he doesn’t really give two fucks about the place. “I don’t care” and “that’s really not necessary” were the phrases I heard the most.

For example: The juvenile chapter books are on a window-facing shelf, and the spines are all bleached almost beyond readability. He said that the books are elsewhere in the system so these ones don’t really matter, and the process to requisition funds to put UV film on the windows is to byzantine to maneuver.

On the lighter side of things, he seemed eager to show off his little bluetooth speakers. He put one on either side of the room and said “what bands do you like?”

I froze, frantically pounding down the list of music I’d been listening to, trying to get to something even a little bit acceptable for a work environment.

I choked and blurted out “Black Flag.”

This fucking city is run by pigs. They take rights away from all the kids.

Outstanding.

“So this is like, some kind of grunge music, right?” he asks me.

“Kurt Cobain would have owned this record, yeah.” I say.