#bus Ticket offer

[girderednerve]

The French capital faces an unprecedented emergency housing crisis. Paris’ homelessness hotline — the 115 — receives roughly 13,500 calls every day, but only 10 percent of callers are able to get emergency housing. Every evening at 6 p.m., dozens of unhoused people flock to the Hôtel de Ville in central Paris, where the charity Utopia 56 helps match them with Parisians who have a spare bed — but the association is overwhelmed by demand. Meanwhile, evictions of informal living spaces in the Île-de-France region — which includes Paris and its suburbs — doubled over the past four years. The number of unhoused people increased by about 500 in the past year.

The approach of the Olympic Games has exacerbated these trends. Statistics from civil rights groups show a troubling rise in evictions over the past year as the city has prepared for the global event that will bring 14 million tourists to Paris starting in late July. While official numbers on displacement are hard to come by, the Observatory on Evictions from Informal Living Spaces, a research group, counted 138 expulsions in the Île-de-France between April 2023 and May 2024, affecting roughly 12,545 people, an increase of about 40 percent compared with two years prior. A government spokesperson, Christophe Noël du Payrat, told the New York Times that authorities had evicted roughly 5,000 people in the past year, most of them single men.

For this story, I spoke with more than a dozen unhoused or precariously housed Paris residents, as well as charity workers, researchers and public officials. The upcoming Olympics, they all suggested, have provided Paris a neat deadline for accelerating processes of urban renewal — and displacement — that were already underway in an effort to sanitize the city for tourists. The Games, which the International Olympic Committee have hailed as a “new model” that is at once “ambitious, spectacular, open to all, but also more responsible, more sustainable, more supportive and more inclusive,” could have been an opportunity to address chronic homelessness, they lamented. Instead, the city started ramping up evictions.

[fingertipsmp3]

Should I go to my graduation or not. Seriously

[peonyleaf]

i just experienced a christmas miracle

[psilactis]

just saw a post talking about how good libraries are and that they are like, the last free thing people have access to. I'm so so so glad to be brazilian. Truly a hellish experience sometimes but mostly it's so good

[featherlystar]

thinking today of my ex, who once told me "youre lucky we're on the same country, because if you were on like, chile or argentina, theres no way i would had pursued you"

and then today my bf said "i miss you, im sorry I cant go this christmas to see you, but as soon as I can I will fly to see you"

and just what a change

[beelzlikes]

Part of my problem is I'm NOT scared. I'm a trust fund baby, Capitalism worked for my parents and they do have millions of dollars.

I did the math: if I had just $1 million and only paid myself the yearly salary I get for my job, I'd be set for the next 25 years. That's longer than I ever planned on actually staying alive!

If I had no pride or self-worth left, I would beg and cry and lie for that money. Try to convince my parents to just give it to me. Oh the things I'd do!

I'd pay off my house and buy a new car. Hell, I'd even pay back my student loans right away. Then maybe go on a quick vacation before sitting down to write a book...

Ah, it's all too good to be true. So instead, I'll wait like a good little boy. My parents are healthy and wise, they aren't going to be dying any time soon, so I won't be getting any of that inheritance money from them until they pass away. Which... Doesn't help me now. At all. In fact, it makes things both stressful AND underwhelming. I have to work to keep my head above water, knowing all the while there's a lifeboat just a few feet to the side, but if I try to grab hold of it, people bat me away with their oars.

"Hey! What did you do to DESERVE getting in this lifeboat? We all worked and earned our place on the lifeboat, there's no room for slackers here. You can wait for a vacancy to open in a few years. But in the meantime you can just drown."

And yet by the same token, why would I bother doing anything for myself when I know it doesn't matter in the long run? I'm supposed to make something of myself? Why not just let my life fall into ruin, accumulate hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt cause I know when I get my inheritance I can make all that disappear. So why bother trying to PREVENT those things from happening when at the end of the day I'm going to be a millionaire anyway...

Ugh, I'm pathetic. Listen to me complain about how rich my family is and how I don't want to work the endless capitalist grind. But if it comes down to asking my parents for bail out money or killing myself... hmmm... actually, that's harder to choose than I thought...

[kmuradesu]

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

[gguk-n]

Your brother's Oscar Piastri? (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

I've had this idea in my head since I found out Oscar's sister is a K-Pop stan.

{Reader's POV}

Getting tickets to a K-Pop concert got exponentially more difficult as their popularity rose. It took so many attempts and almost losing the hair on my head before I got tickets to the TXT concert in town. I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as the confirmation email rolled in.

On the day of the concert, I might have gone all out and dressed up but everyone dresses up for the concert and it was the most exciting day I've had in a while. I love that I get to spend my adult money on stuff I enjoy. At the venue, I got to meet some people I had connected with online and made some new friends.

There was a girl next to me in the seating, who I ended up vibing with. We had a lot of fun as we sang along to all their songs; our voice went hoarse by the end of the night. As we walked out while talking about the concert, "Ugh, my mum won't answer my calls" the girl next to me, who I was introduced to as Hattie groaned. "Is there an issue?" I asked. "My mum's supposed to be my ride back and she won't answer my calls" she whined. "I could drop you" I suggested. "Oh, no. That would be too much to ask for" the girl shook her head to avoid causing any inconvenience . "It'll be fine. We're part of the same fandom so it makes us family" I laughed. She seemed to mull over my suggestion before nodding her head, "OK, but I'll pay for the petrol" she suggested. "Done. Let's go" I said pointing to my car.

The drive to her house was entertaining as we got to know each other better and sang along to the songs. We become concert buddies after that. I didn't really have many friends I could drag along to concerts anymore; having a friend made things much more exciting. She was a joy to have around and we shared the same bias for most groups we liked so it made stuff even more chaotic then they already were.

This went on for a couple more concerts until the latest one where I took the bus to the venue since my car broke down and a non-functioning vehicle was not about to stop me from seeing Enhypen. I met Hattie at the entrance who had been waiting for me. We hugged and grabbed some stuff from the stands outside and walked into the venue. The show was great, the fan service at K-Pop concerts was unmatched.

Hattie knew that my car had broken down and offered to drive me home as a pay back for the favour I had done at the start of our friendship. We were waiting outside for who I assumed was Hattie's mum but instead I was greeted by a tall pale Australian man, I knew more as Oscar Piastri, Formula One driver for McLaren. My jaw almost hit the floor before I caught myself and greeted the man before entering the car. "Hi, I'm Y/N." I said while climbing into the back seat while Hattie sat shot gun. "Hey, I'm Oscar" he said giving me a smile before he started the car.

Hattie kept looking back at me every time I sent a message. As soon as she read the last message, "Oscar, Y/N loves you" she laughed. Man, I hate the friends I have sometimes, I thought. Before my mind could react my body did, "No" I shouted. Oscar turned around to look at me, "no?" he asked. "I mean yes" I stammered. "yes?" he quizzed. "I mean, I love Formula One and since you're a Formula One driver that's why I asked her to ask if could get your autograph" I rambled. If the earth swallowed me whole, I don't think I would mind right now. I could hear Hattie snickering in the background.

The rest of the car ride had me sweating. Oscar dropped me off in front of my building; I bolted out of the door. "Don't you want that autograph?" Oscar shouted. I stopped dead in my tracks with slumped shoulders; if I'm going to embarrass myself, let's leave no stone unturned at this point. "Yeah, sure. I have some merch in my house you could sign" I mumbled walking back to the car. "Maybe you would like to join me for some tea" I offered. Hattie nodded along from inside the car and the three of us headed up. My house, I must've forgotten was not clean enough to be seen by anyone but me; I had to literally stop them, throw everything in the nearest closet and then open the door. I ran a kettle for hot water and asked them to sit on the sofa while I grabbed the Oscar Piastri hat and shirt I had bought recently. He graciously signed it for me and I handed them the cup of tea. "Your house is lovely" Hattie commented while looking around, "I don't see any of the albums or merch" she continued. "they're in my room" I said. "Must be fun explaining to the guys who come over" she spoke more to herself. "It's hilarious watching their reaction" Hattie added at Oscar's quizzical expression. "If you guys are done, would it be harsh to ask you to leave, I have an early shift tomorrow" I asked nervously. "No, thank you for the tea. We'll be leaving" Oscar said while lifting Hattie up. "I'm not leaving yet. I haven't seen your room" Hattie whined trying to get free from Oscar. "You know where she lives, come over at a more acceptable time." Oscar told her and dragged his sister away, "Good night Y/N" he called out as I closed the door.

Thank god she didn't see my room, I don't know how I would explain the Oscar Piastri poster I had above my bed and in my closet. My life got interesting to say the least.

Hattie and I weren't able to meet after since there weren't any concerts for a while but there was a Formula One race in a week. Hattie called me asking if I would like to join her family. I was more than grateful to be going because I got to see the race for free. God knows my saving's are crying.

I got dressed for the race and met them at the venue. It was the race day and the hustle and bustle at the paddock had adrenaline pumping through me. Hattie greeted me and introduced me to her family, 2 sisters and her parents who were very kind and welcoming. "It's nice to finally meet the girl who's accompanying our daughter to concerts and the subject of my child's interest" Nicole chimed extending her arm out. "It's so nice to meet you too Mrs Piastri" I said while shaking her hand. "You make me sound old, call me Nicole" she said. "What did she mean by the subject of my child's interest?" I whispered to Hattie. "Nothing" Hattie answered quickly. We walked in to McLaren to be greeted by Oscar and Lando. Starstruck was an understatement. After exchanging pleasantries and me asking for Lando's autograph and a picture with him and then tripping over the wire on the floor almost discharging vital piece of equipment found my way back to everyone and decided to sit in place. Oscar did ask if I was okay but I couldn't really focus on that since I keep embarrassing myself in front of him, of all the people.

The race ended with a pretty decent finish for Oscar that had all of us cheering. He came back to meet everyone after all the formalities and celebration. After a while we started to pack up to leave; "you should help Oscar pack up" Hattie said while making a quick exit with the family. "What? Why?" I asked but was ignored while everyone left. "Hi" a small voice came. "Hey, Oscar. Great race" I said trying to making things less awkward. "Thanks for coming" Oscar said. "Hattie said you guys had extra tickets and plus I couldn't say no to a race" I rambled. "Umm" he scratched the back of his neck, "there were no extra tickets, Lando lent me one of his so I could invite you" he said. "What? I'm so sorry for the trouble" I apologised. "What? No I mean, I wanted you to come...so I asked Lando for the extra ticket" Oscar corrected me. "You wanted me to come" I repeated. "This is so stupid" he muttered to himself. "Let's go, or we'll be late for dinner" Oscar said packing his stuff. "What dinner?" I asked. I was so lost, what was going on? "We're going out for a family dinner" Oscar stated. "You're going on a family dinner, I'm going home. I'm sure they must be waiting for you in the garage." I said grabbing my stuff. "They're not" Oscar lamented running a hand through his hair.

"I could drop you there if you would like" I offered. "No, I...ugh" Oscar sounded frustrated. "Is something wrong? Maybe I can get help" I suggested. Oscar looked at me with the softest puppy eyes, "I got tickets for you, specifically even though I didn't have one, I was ready to not have one of my sisters attend so that you could have a ticket" he said now staring at me. "I don't" I began. "Fuck, Y/N IthinkIlikeyou" he mumbled. "Oscar, I don't know what you said" I said. Lando peeped in, "This is getting frustrating, I thought it would be fun to watch but it's not. That muppet means he likes you, go out with him." Lando chimed. "You like me?" I asked shocked. Oscar just nodded his head slowly. "Put the kid out of his misery and go out with him. I don't think I can take pining Oscar any more or watch him stalk your Instagram profile" Lando quipped. "Can you shut up Lando?" Oscar glared. "I would love to go out with you Oscar" I cut them off; "really?" Oscar asked. "Yeah, I mean you are my favourite driver on the grid" I stated. "Really" Oscar shouted making me and Lando jump. "Let's go now" Oscar said while holding my hand and dragging me out.

[runa-falls]

my turn

part 1 | part 2

pairing: marc spector x reader (a bit of steven grant x reader)

summary: marc has had enough of watching you take advantage of steven and not him...

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading words, pining omg so much pining, angst, creampie, fluff?, ft. steven

wc: 3.4k

a/n: long time coming (cumming) -- i just realized i barely have marc fics so hopefully this holds up to expectations!

masterlist

----

You know Marc. But you wouldn't necessarily say that you're friends. And even if you were, you're definitely not 'friendly' with him the way you are with Steven.

If you were to ask him though, it wasn't for the lack of trying.

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

"No, Steven. I-I'd love to be your girlfriend."

[katsukikitten]

A rambling that adds more detail to this post about hockey players Izuku and Katsuki.

It doesn't help that you're the coach's pretty little daughter of one of the best hockey teams. At every home game and nearly every away game, you're there behind the plexiglass, insisting you buy your own tickets even when your dad can get you in for free. But occasionally you'll take his offer of a free game although it usually comes with the stipulation of being shoved into one of the manager's polo's, given a clipboard, and since this happened to be an away game you'd be forced to sit on the rowdy bus for the three hour drive.

But you really wanted to watch the championship and your paycheck came in too late when the rival match finals were FINALLY announced, it didn't help that the tickets were sold out in seconds!

So you'll stand by Daddy dearest trying to look important just behind the bench inside the cramped box the team will sit in while they wait to come on and off the ice. The team of course had to arrive early and since this was an away game, you had to look every bit the part of staff as everyone else. Which meant you too had to be in the locker room while the men stripped themselves with ease. Snarling and shoving playfully in the pre game excitement, arguing over who moved who's helmet and “where the fuck are we gonna eat after we win tonight?!”

Some of them speaking lewdly off their latest piece of ass and how Bakugou “had her barkin like a bitch in heat.” Before a chorus of laughs is shared sided from a hissed “Kacchan!” followed by a rough shove into metal lockers.

It isn't until they're all pulling on their jerseys on does your dad clear his throat. Giving the speech of the century but it half falls on deaf ears. Your cheeks burn as you feel every eye on you as if they only just now realized you'd been there the whole time but two men in partial catch your eye.

Izuku, beat red under his freckles, brows furrowed as if he's embarrassed he had such a dirty mouth in front of a lady. Embarrassed of the ‘locker room talk’ and how your tight pair of jeans has his cock twitching at the thought of you barking like a bitch in heat. His gloved hand comes to grip at the nape of his neck but it does little to quell the drunken gaze he gives you, his heated cheeks morphing into pure lust. Emerald eyes slipping around the room and when he sees Todoroki staring too intently at you his glare becomes deadly. Shouto looks away and then Izuku finds another poor soul to glare at, already possessive over something that wasn't even his.

The other being a toxic bromine, smiling wolfishly palming himself roughly as he keeps eye contact with you. Strong grip with his other hand on his hockey stick as he daydreams about you. He wants you in doggy first then missionary because you're so fuckin pretty and he's dying to know what you look like when you cum. Especially when you're creaming on his cock. He's dreamt about you before, he's fucked his fist to you before and he sure as hell has knocked some asshole’s teeth out over you before. It didn't matter if it was his own teammates or the opposing team with the exception that Izuku was allowed to make an occasional comment but no more than three before the childhood rivals would be at each other's throats.

Their gaze are always a little unnerving with their intensity, almost predatory and yet it never makes you feel uncomfortable. They'd proven before that they'd protect you when push came to shove, they did four seasons ago when you first moved to the city and before anyone on the team even knew the coach had kids, let alone a daughter. The bar was crowded, it was a rival team against some other team the city happened to give less of a shit about. The players were on an off day enjoying their few hours off the ice and of course the rough men chose a bar where they could watch a fucking hockey game and shoot shit.

You'd finally found a table with a decent view of one of the many TVs and the bar so you could easily get up and get yourself a drink. But your new male coworker offered to bully his way through the players for you, ending up at the end of the bar by a bulky curly haired man and loud ass ash blonde. Getting caught up in the game and taking your eyes off your coworker but only for a moment.

“Are you trying to spike her drink?” A thick scarred hand is over one of the glasses on the bar top, your coworker flushed red.

“Huh?”

“Ya fuckin dumb?” The ash blonde reaches over the curly haired man, yanking your coworker’s tie harshly, effectively smashing the man's face into the polished wood.

“He said were ya tryin to date rape that pretty woman over there?” The blonde cocks his head in your direction, a group of eight eyes turn to look over their shoulder and then back at your shitty coworker. Who stammers, tried to get himself out of the lie before the sweetest, deadliest voice comes from the freckled sunshine boy of the team.

“Smile.” But there's nothing but malice in his eyes as he snaps the photo, immediately texting it to every bar owner he knows. (Half the city!) Your coworker fled and they offered up a seat at the bar for you but you politely declined after that they periodically glanced back to see if you left yet and if you were still okay.

So it wasn't like the only thing they wanted was to get their dick wet right?

Bedsides what probably made you super hot to them was the fact that you were the coach’s daughter, aka off limits.

Sighing as you watch them skate around the rink gracefully despite their size, Izuku and Katsuki passing to one another before taking shots at Kirishima in his full gear as they all warm up. Soon the stadium will be packed with throngs of people pressing into the glass behind you. Most of them rival fans banging on the plexi in hopes to distract or rile up the team, not realizing you'd be distraction enough.

Because all night a pair of emerald and bromine eyes will be glued to you. One giving his killer smile and the other smirking as he delivers a deadly wink.

[syoddeye]

something something possessed by a worm. you're soap's captive girlfriend who got the call that he was shot. i wrote this between the hours of 2-3 am, so let's be chill. ~1.3k words.

cw: italics, imprisonment/abduction, surveillance, medical inaccuracies we breeze right over, threats of violence, collaring, stalking, noncon blowjob.

on paper, it looks bad. it looks cruel. yet, you can’t bring yourself to care—johnny’s injury is a blessing.

it feels like you won the lottery, picking up the emergency phone. inbound calls only. you were so sure it was him, warning you of his imminent return.

playing the part of a devastated partner is easy. the englishman on the other end of the call sympathizes with your crocodile tears and helpfully tells you that someone will fetch you tomorrow morning. that you'll be brought, at no expense, to sit vigil at your boyfriend's side at the hospital. you hear the word ‘coma’, and launch out of bed. you only half listen to the rest of the conversation, hurriedly packing a bag as he drones. you can't end the call fast enough.

dismantling the flat comes first. you smash the cameras and flush the bugs. pry the tracker tag off your collar and bloody your fingers in the process. later, you’ll stick it on a bus.

you scour every nook and cranny, eventually finding the steel box you've seen john fiddling with. after trial and error, you pick the lock, and it’s a relief to see your id and passport again. it’s like a time capsule. past you offers a genuine, albeit shy smile, and you mutter an apology as you tuck her into a pocket. the last of the snacks he’d left go in with your clothes, as well as the few expensive-looking heirlooms he keeps around the flat. 

someone might call about the wide-eyed, crazed woman jumping off the balcony into the bushes. it’s a risk you take. the nearest pawnbroker, if you remember correctly, is only a ten-minute walk away. the cash you end up with isn’t much, but it's the first chunk of money that's yours in ages.

you hold your breath from glasgow to amsterdam and, by sheer luck, find your godmother’s place by memory alone. she’s surprised to find you on her doorstep, but she buys your story of an au pair job gone sour and lets you stay. truth and reality are too humiliating and too risky so long as you’re on european soil. you lay low, but nobody turns up. no one comes looking.

out of an abundance of caution, you cut and dye your hair anyway. you look up every variation of ‘john mactavish’ and scour obituaries and news articles. you don’t find a thing, but you know he’s special forces—they wouldn’t necessarily publish an announcement.

weeks pass. she doesn’t say a word, but guilt gnaws at you for living off your godmother’s kindness. after dodging their calls, you reach out to your parents and beg them to buy you a plane ticket home to chicago. although they welcome you stateside, they’re distressed and confused about your sudden departure and separation from ‘that nice scottish boy’ they’d met over facetime. they didn’t know about the knife just out of frame or the disturbing sketches he’d draw of your mother from memory. you lie through your teeth and blame his hectic work schedule because it’s easier to say that than admit your little journey of ‘self-discovery’ didn’t lead you into a ‘whirlwind romance’, but a fucking nightmare.

(it started as a dreamy evening of darts and drinks, where a cute soldier made you laugh all the way into his bed. a mirage that hid his true intentions. grand overtures designed to dazzle you until it was too late. until he got you fired and evicted. somehow arranged for your visa to be revoked. orchestrated your demoralization and subsequent breakdown. ushered you into his flat with open arms, cooing and rubbing your back as you hiccuped and sobbed. those days are a blur, a series of escalations. a slow boil you didn’t feel until it scalded, until he locked the collar around your neck. even then, you felt like a failure. that it was all your fault for believing the lies. he laid you out beneath him, whispering the things he’d do to your family if you ran. how the powers at be would let him, given his work. a slap on the wrist. that’s all i’d get, hen.)

months turn into a year. you still look up johnny's name on occasion. still stare when you see a mohawk. yet, little by little, you feel like yourself again. rejoin society. get a shit job. you refuse to touch the dating pool with a ten-foot pole, but you don't feel naked wearing short sleeves anymore. don't flinch at the sound of dog tags clinking together.

you pick up a night shift, determined to save extra money so you can find your own apartment and stop leeching off your parents. everything's fine and dandy. slightly creepy, given the hour, but nothing you can't handle. (after johnny, you handle anything.) you close, intending to take out the trash as you lock up. the alley smells like piss and beer.

tossing the bag into the dumpster, you freeze at the silhouette at the mouth of the passage. they face away, cigarette smoke wafting from their person. they probably don't see you, but just to be safe, you turn to head in the other direction to take the long way to the L—

at least, you would, if johnny wasn't looming over you, night terrors manifest. big, broad shoulders and a puffed-out chest. a grin as wide and sharp as you remember. and those bright blue eyes, the light in them flattening in real time as he drinks in your expression. he relishes the way your face drops. the instant terror. a horrific scar catches your eye, flaring in every direction on his temple like a furious sun.

did ye think i'd forgotten ye, bonnie? or hope the gunshot erased ye? did ye believe me dead?

when you start to cry, because why wouldn't you, he—

no, no. hush. this is a good thing. a happy day. we're reunited, and i'm meetin' my girl's parents. cap's gone ahead to break the ice.

and when you scream, because why wouldn't you, he clamps a hand over your mouth and pins you to the dumpster. doesn't care a whit when your head bounces off the metal. the light returns to his eyes as you squirm. his brows pitch, lips curling. he brandishes a knife and stammers through his reprimand, scolding you for all your struggling.

i see ye forgot the rules and your manners. forgot what'll happen if ye dinnae–din–fuckin' play nice.

johnny forces you into a car, muttering reminders of what happens when you run. assures you, even as he loads you bodily into the backseat, sandwiching you between him and some massive freak in a mask, that he is forgiving. when the car rejoins traffic, johnny works his fly open. it takes a minute, his hands a bit unsteady.

a near-death experience clarifies things. puts what's important into focus. john says he saw his future clear as crystal, then shoves your head down without warning. he barks at the man on your other side, and a hand comes to rest on your flank, causing you to whimper around his cock. he moans sinfully at that before violently fucking your throat.

by the time he comes, you're spent. the fight gone out of you. the mitt on your side migrates to your inner thigh, but you can't begin to care. you’re resigned to drooling on john's lap. you pray for a car crash.

johnny explains how, given his connections, it took only two months to find you. they let him do that because of his work, but he decided to wait and bide his time. he details all the therapy, rehab, and everything he did to get into shape, to get his head on straight, and to get to you himself. plus, there was the matter of tracking down his second quarry. naughty, how you pawned it for less than half its value.

his grandmother's ring fits you perfectly. fate, he calls it.

but you know another collar when you see one.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version)

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You are forgotten

TW: childhood neglect, depressive thoughts, suicidal thoughts

When you are four, Mami forgets you at nursery.

Tia Alba gets angry but Mami apologises and Abuela gives you back to Mami.

When you are five, Mami forgets you at school.

Tia Alba has to come and get you but Mami apologises and Abuela gives you back.

When you are six, Mami forgets you at ballet.

When you are seven, it's at school again.

When you are eight, it's at your friend's house.

Nine is at a birthday party and ten is after a recital.

You start taking yourself to school at eleven. You don't have a bus pass so you walk the hour to school, there and back every day. You take yourself to ballet and to your recitals.

At twelve, you join the Ballet de Catalunya ballet school.

Alexia forgets your celebration dinner.

At some point, you don't understand when, something snaps in you. Days off are spent in bed, with no energy to do anything but rot.

Jaume is a rising star in his age group, rising through La Masia's ranks quickly.

It's all Alexia talks about at dinner.

How talented he is. How good he is. How he scores goals like they're easy.

The tickets to your recital sit forgotten in your bag.

The seat in the front row is left empty.

You stop coming down to dinner.

You eat alone. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.

Your recital clashes with Jaume's game.

You've got a solo. You've been working towards it for months.

Alexia tells you to skip your performance to watch Jaume's match.

You don't.

You go to your recital. You perform your heart out.

The Artistic Director of the ballet company comes to watch. He offers you a spot in the actual company. He wants you to dance. To properly dance. To have a career in dance.

You want that too.

You're still a child though. You can't sign a contract by yourself. You need a guardian to sign for you.

Alexia's mad at you though, mad that you didn't turn up to support her son. She's mad at you for putting yourself above him.

"Family is meant to support each other," She tells you," Family sacrifices things for family. Do you think that your grandmother didn't sacrifice things for my football? That Alba didn't?"

It's funny, you think that night, as you stare up at your bedroom ceiling. You're invisible to her most of the time, the ghost that lives in her house, until it's something to do with her golden boy.

It's not all bad. At least, you don't think it is.

Alexia is a good mother.

She makes dinner and she gives you somewhere to live and she clothes you.

There's family days out and little restaurant trips and holidays away during the summer.

She comes to your parent-teacher meetings and pays for all your new ballet equipment, your shoes and your leotards and your leg warmers.

You get a train on your birthday and a cupcake.

You are being dramatic.

Alexia is a good mother. You're just different to her.

It's easier for her to relate to Jaume. He is like her. He loves football and everything that comes with it. His love for Barcelona rivals Alexia's. He is everything you are not.

He is Olga's son.

You are not.

"I don't like arguing with you," Alexia says as she sits on your bed at night," And I'm sorry. I just...I just wish you understood what this means to your brother."

You hold a pillow to your chest, still turned away from her. "I wish I did too."

Alexia rests a hand on your side, gently rubbing her fingers along your skin, trying to sooth you.

You feel like you're going to cry. But you won't.

Not in front of her.

"Dinner's in the microwave."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, when you are."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Night."

You forge Alexia's signature and start training in the ballet company of your dreams.

You don't know when it happens or what sparks it but one day, you walk from practice all the way back home.

Your feet hurt and your legs hurt and something in your chest bursts free and you sit on the beach and sob.

Something in you is broken, shattered like a mirror that someone's desperately trying to fix without having all the pieces.

Part of you is missing.

You don't know what part is missing. You don't know when it is stolen from you but it isn't there anymore.

Lots of parts of you are broken. Some more than others. Some missing completely.

There's something wrong with you as years-old exhaustion sets into your bones. Something in you is irreparable as you stare out to sea.

There's a pier to your left, as empty and quiet as you feel inside.

It's dark now.

It had been midday when you'd left practice.

You'd been at the beach ever since, just staring out at sea.

It would be so easy to walk until the end of the pier, to sit down on the edge and dangle your feet over it.

The drop isn't enough to kill you but the sea is deep enough that you'd drown if you don't swim up.

That's interesting, you think.

How far does someone's instincts go?

If you jumped in, would you automatically kick and swim up?

Or would you consciously be able to stop?

If you were in the water, could you bring yourself to open your mouth and breath?

Or would your brain stop you until you were safe again?

You kick your legs, staring at the water.

The night makes the sea look even more daunting.

Somehow, that's comforting to you.

If you jump in now, someone won't find you until morning. If they would ever find you at all.

The water is inviting.

You imagine it will be peaceful when you finally go.

Like falling asleep.

You'd just float away.

It's so tempting.

You can't imagine anything sweeter but your phone flashes.

Tia Alba: How are you?

You can't remember the last person to ask you that.

No.

That's a lie.

You can't remember the last person to ask you that outside of Alba.

A sob forces its way out of your throat and you're crying again, uncontrollable, gut-wrenching sobs.

Something is wrong with you.

That's all you can think as your aching feet walk you away from peace.

You walk away from salvation.

There's a doorknocker on the front door. It's rusty and the paint is patchy, flecked off from a life well used.

The door opens.

"Bambi?" Alba stands behind it. "Are you okay?"

[jaystardust]

‎𖦹 ༘⋆𓇼ִ ࣪🐚⋆｡ LIKE HOT SUMMER

Pairing: sim Jake x fem!reader, ft. lee heeseung, sungchan of riize

Genre: brother best friend, beach au, fluff, angst

Warnings: angst, suggestive, sungchan is kind of a toxic ex, cheating, alcohol consumption, slut shaming...

Summary: After a tough school year and a heartbreaking breakup, you escape to a beach house with your brother Heeseung and his best friend Jake. Amidst sun-soaked days and ocean waves, you find an unexpected connection with Jake growing stronger. Just as you begin to heal, an unexpected event stirs up unresolved emotions and complicates your summer retreat.

Words count: 9.4K

The feeling of sea salt drying on your skin, the light breeze flowing through your hair, and the hot sand beneath your feet can seem so near yet so far at the same time.

It was your last day of exams before the summer break, and to be honest, some vacation was needed. It's been a tough year, and as intense as it sounds, it's been hard to combine classes with your part-time job. You were working at a coffee shop near the campus, which was exhausting. That's where you met your boyfriend, Sungchan, well... ex-boyfriend.

The break-up was still fresh, so fresh that you had trouble getting used to it, or at least realizing it.

A week ago, when you had to go to your shift – an unscheduled shift, as you had to replace a colleague – you caught your boyfriend hooking up with one of your colleagues in the supply room... very hygienic, by the way…

As luck had decided not to be on your side on this one, and as if you hadn't already had enough, this summer's vacation would be spent with Sungchan. The trip to Greece you'd been looking forward to had fallen through, and so had the money you'd put into it. Neither the ticket nor the hotel was refundable so close to departure. And it was out of the picture to spend time in the presence of your ex, even if the sea at hand would have been a wonderful opportunity to drown him.

As your older brother, Heeseung, noticed that you were feeling down about not having any plans for the summer due to your recent break-up, he came up with an idea. He knew how hard you had worked all year to make the most of your summer, and it was difficult for him to see you feeling that way.

That's why he offered you to spend the vacation with him and his best friend Jake at the beach. His best friend had invited him many times to his family's beach house. So when Heeseung mentioned your situation to him, he immediately asked if you would like to join them.

You were not very well acquainted with Jake, but you truly appreciated this thoughtful gesture. Even if you knew that he probably just did it to help his best friend, or at least to help him get some peace of mind so he could have a blast all summer with him.

After considering it for some time, you concluded that this well-deserved vacation was a great idea. You'll have all the time you need to unwind and put your break-up out of your mind, even if it means sharing the space with your brother and his best friend. While they are out enjoying themselves, whether by getting drunk or getting laid, topics that hold no interest to you.

---

Sitting on your suitcase so that it could close was not a solution, and yet there were plenty of movies where you'd seen people do it. The only way out was to get some stuff out of it, but that was not an option. The number of outfits you had planned for this trip was not negotiable with the size of your suitcase. And that's why you finally decided to add another travel bag

The boys had already arrived at the beach house,  it was agreed that you would join them shortly after their arrival. They'd had to go there a few days before because of some big campfire party on the beach or something like that, but to be honest, you hadn't followed it up. You were too busy organizing your bikini collection when Heeseung came to tell you about their supposedly amazing program.  

The plan was for you to take the bus-- the perks of being broke --and for Heeseung to pick you up at the nearest bus station. Knowing that the journey was going to take some time, you took along a book, earplugs, and a sleep mask. Not wanting to be disturbed during the nap you were about to take. It had been an emotional week, and you'd lost count of the sleepless nights you'd spent studying or crying over the fact that you'd been cheated on...

The bus ride seemed to stretch endlessly, with the rumble of the engine and the gentle swaying of the vehicle creating a soothing backdrop for some well-deserved rest. As the miles passed by, you found yourself drifting off into a peaceful slumber, finally able to catch up on the sleep that had eluded you for so long. 

When you finally arrived at the small coastal town, you were surprised to find that Heeseung was not waiting for you at the station. Instead, you spotted Jake leaning against his car with a relaxed smile, ready to greet you.

You wiped away any trace of surprise from your face to avoid appearing hostile. You grinned back at him as you struggled towards him with your luggage.

Seeing you struggling with your bags, Jake reacted immediately and came to help you by taking both of them off your hands. "Hey! Let me help you with that."

He lifted them with ease, and it was hard not to notice his biceps flexing as he carried them. You thanked him for this gesture and followed him to his car. You couldn't help but notice the sun-kissed glow on his skin, evidence of the few days he had spent outdoors. His arms, displayed in a sleeveless shirt, revealed his noticeable nice tan.

As you gazed at him, you silently thanked yourself for wearing sunglasses. You didn't want to appear too intrusive, but couldn't help but admire him. The way the ocean breeze played with his hair and the sunlight kissed his skin was simply perfect.

"Hope the ride wasn't too rough," Jake said as he loaded your bags into the trunk. "Heeseung got caught up with a bad hangover, so he asked me to pick you up instead."

"Thank you, Jake. It was fine. Just long," you replied, sliding into the passenger seat.

As you both made your way to the beach house, you couldn't help but admire the short yet scenic drive, with the picturesque coastline providing a perfect backdrop. Despite the beautiful view, your mind kept wandering back to Jake. Heeseung's best friend was even more attractive than you could remember, and his easygoing smile made your heart skip a beat.

--

The beach house surpassed all expectations with its charming white-washed walls, expansive windows that flooded the rooms with natural light, and an awe-inspiring panoramic view of the ocean. Upon arrival, Jake graciously assisted you with your luggage and guided you to your beautifully appointed room.

"This is your room. Make yourself at home," he said, opening the door to a cozy room with a large window overlooking the beach. The walls were painted a soft, calming blue, and the bed was piled high with fluffy white pillows and a matching comforter. 

"I hope you'll find it comfortable. If you need anything, my room is right next door."

"It’s perfect, thank you," you said, admiring the view of the sun beginning to set over the water.

Jake's warm smile lingered in the doorway as he extended an invitation. "We're having a barbecue tonight. You should join us," he said. 

"I'd love that," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The idea of spending the evening with Jake and Heeseung sounded wonderful.

As the sun began to set, you changed into a light sundress and joined the group outside. The backyard of the beach house was spacious, with a wooden deck that led down to the sandy beach. String lights were hung around the area, casting a warm, inviting glow. Heeseung, looking a bit worse for wear from his hangover, was manning the grill, while Jake was setting up a bonfire nearby. The sound of laughter and the smell of grilling food filled the air, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace.

"Hey, you made it!" Heeseung exclaimed with a wide grin as he caught sight of you. "Feeling better?"

"Much better," you replied, sinking into the chair beside Jake, who handed you a plate of delicious food.

"You look great," Jake remarked, his gaze lingering on the delicate fabric of your sundress before meeting your eyes with a warm smile. "I hope you're hungry. We've got plenty of food."

"I am, actually. Thanks," you said, feeling a pleasant flutter in your stomach at his compliment.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn to Jake's easygoing nature and genuine kindness. The conversation flowed effortlessly between the three of you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like yourself again.

But beneath the surface, there was a tension brewing, a silent acknowledgment of the forbidden nature of your growing attraction to Jake. Heeseung may have been your brother, but there was an unspoken rule about his best friend being off-limits.

As the night wore on, the deep navy sky was adorned with twinkling stars, creating a mesmerizing spectacle overhead. Despite the enchanting atmosphere, you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to be closer to Jake. But you pushed those thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the complications that would arise if you were to act on your feelings.

You thought of every shared laugh and exchanged glances, the connection between you two only grew stronger, deepening with every passing moment. And for the first time in days, you went to bed thinking about things other than your breakup.

--

The next morning, the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the faint calls of seagulls served as your natural alarm clock. You stretched languidly in bed, feeling more rested than you had in weeks. The gentle warmth of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, inviting you to start your day.

You took your time getting ready, savoring the peace and quiet. The beach house was still and calm, the boys probably still asleep or nursing their hangovers. After slipping into a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, you headed downstairs to find some breakfast.

In the kitchen, you found Jake already up, sipping on a cup of coffee and scrolling on his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face breaking into a smile.

"Morning," he greeted, setting his mug down. "I made some coffee. Want some?"

"Yes, please," you replied, returning his smile. "Thanks."

He poured you a cup and handed it to you. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in a long time," you admitted, taking a sip of the rich, aromatic coffee. "This place is amazing."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "We were worried you might find it a bit overwhelming, especially after everything you've been through."

You appreciated his concern but shook your head. "No, this is exactly what I needed. Thank you for inviting me."

Jake shrugged modestly. "It was the least we could do."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying your coffee and the tranquil morning atmosphere. Heeseung stumbled wearily into the kitchen, with his tousled hair and bleary eyes. Despite his fatigue, he wore a warm smile.

"Morning, sunshine," you teased, watching as he squinted at the bright light streaming in through the windows.

"Ugh, morning," he grumbled, reaching for a cup of coffee. "What are you guys up to today?"

"I was thinking of going for a swim," Jake said, glancing at you. "You up for it?"

"Absolutely," you replied, feeling a thrill of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

--

The water was refreshingly cool against your skin as you waded into the ocean. Jake was already out further, diving into the waves with ease. Heeseung had chosen to remain at the house, still recovering from his rough night and promising to join you later.

You took a deep breath and dove under the crystal-clear water, feeling the stress of the past few weeks melt away. When you resurfaced, Jake was gracefully swimming towards you, his radiant smile contrasting against the dazzling backdrop of the sparkling sea.

"This is perfect," you said, floating on your back and looking up at the clear blue sky.

"Yeah, it is," Jake agreed, floating beside you. "I'm glad you came here."

You turned your head to look at him, feeling a rush of affection for the boy who had shown you such kindness. "Me too."

For a while, you both just floated there, enjoying the serenity of the moment. Then, Jake's playful side emerged as he splashed you with water, making you laugh.

"Hey!" you protested, splashing him back.

A water fight ensued, full of laughter and playful shouts. It was a liberating feeling, letting go of your worries and just having fun. After a while, you both retreated to the shore, exhausted but happy.

You collapsed onto the sand, catching your breath. Jake sat beside you, his damp hair glistening in the sunlight.

"Thanks for that," you said, looking over at him. "I haven't had that much fun in ages."

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze meeting yours. There was a moment of silence, the air between you charged with unspoken feelings.

Before you could say anything, Heeseung appeared on the deck, waving you both over. "Lunch is ready!"

Reluctantly, you got up and followed Jake back to the house. The rest of the day passed in a blur of delicious food, beach games, and laughter. However, as the sun began to set, you found yourself drawn to Jake once more.

--

That evening, as the sky turned shades of orange and pink, you found yourself sitting on the beach with Jake. Heeseung had retired early, leaving the two of you alone.

"Tell me something about you I don't know," Jake said suddenly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

You thought for a moment. "I used to want to be a marine biologist when I was a kid," you confessed. "I loved the ocean and everything in it."

Jake smiled. "I can see that. You seem so at peace here."

"Yeah," you agreed, feeling a pang of nostalgia. "What about you? Any childhood dreams?"

"I wanted to be a pilot," he said with a chuckle. "Flying seemed like the ultimate freedom."

"Do you still want that?" you asked, curious.

"Not really," he admitted. "I've found other passions."

"Like what?"

"Like music," he said, surprising you. "I love playing the guitar. It’s become a big part of who I am."

"I had no idea," you said, genuinely intrigued. "You'll have to play for me sometime."

"I'd like that," he said, his eyes meeting yours. There was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart race.

The moment stretched out, filled with possibilities. You wanted to lean in, to close the distance between you. But the fear of what it might mean held you back.

Instead, you just smiled at him, "It's getting late. We should probably head back."

Jake nodded, though a subtle flicker of disappointment crossed his face. "Yeah, you're right."

As you walked back to the house, the tension between you remained, simmering just below the surface. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to give in to that tension, to see where it might lead.

--

The days at the beach house began to blend in a blissful routine. Mornings started with coffee and easy conversation with Jake, followed by long, lazy afternoons spent on the beach. Heeseung often joined you two, but there were moments when it was just you and Jake, and those were the times you cherished the most.

One evening, after another barbecue dinner, Jake suggested a walk along the beach. The air was cool and refreshing, and the moon cast a silver glow over the water. 

You walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the gentle crash of waves and the occasional call of a seagull.

"Can I ask you something?" Jake's voice broke the silence, his tone tentative.

"Of course," you replied, curious.

"How are you really doing? With everything that's happened... with Sungchan," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You sighed, looking out at the ocean. "It's been tough. I thought I was over it, but being here, away from everything, has made me realize how much it still hurts."

Jake nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. You deserve so much better."

"Thanks, Jake," you said softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "It's getting easier, though. Being here helps. You and Heeseung have made it better."

"I'm glad we could help," he said, his voice sincere.

You continued walking, your hands brushing occasionally as you walked close together. Each touch sent a spark of electricity through you, and you couldn't deny the growing attraction you felt for Jake. But you also knew that pursuing anything with him could complicate things, especially with Heeseung being your brother.

--

Later that night, after the walk, everyone decided to sit on the deck and have a few drinks. The sound of laughter filled the air as they shared stories and reminisced about old times. The stars overhead twinkled brightly, creating a perfect backdrop for the evening.

After several drinks, you felt the alcohol coursing through your veins, making you bolder and more carefree. Heeseung had already stumbled off to bed, leaving you and Jake alone under the stars. 

After a short while, Jake noticed you yawning and realized it was time to tuck you into bed.

"Jake..." you slurred slightly as you made your way through the room, leaning closer to him. "You told me that if I needed anything, your room was next door. Do you remember?"

"Yes, of course, Y/N," Jake replied, his brow furrowing with concern. "What do you need?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of longing and desperation. "I need you."

Jake's eyes widened, and he took a step back, his face conflicted. "Y/N, you're drunk. I can't—"

"Please," you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

Jake gently took your hand, his expression pained. "I can't, Y/N. Not like this. You're not thinking clearly, and I don't want to do anything we'll regret."

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, understanding his reluctance. "Okay," you whispered, pulling your hand away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said gently, his voice filled with concern. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

He kindly ushered you through your room, making sure you were comfortable before he left. Ensuring that you were settled in before bidding you goodnight. As you lay in bed, the events of the night unfolded in your mind like a vivid movie, and you found yourself experiencing a complex blend of embarrassment and relief.

Jake had done the right thing, even though it stung in the moment. You knew that you needed to sort out your feelings and find a way to move forward without the haze of alcohol clouding your judgment. And as you drifted off to sleep, you resolved to face your emotions head-on, knowing that Jake would be there to support you, no matter what.

--

The next morning, you woke up with a slight headache, the events of the previous night replaying in your mind. You cringed at the memory of your drunken confession to Jake and wondered how you would face him. Taking a deep breath, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, hoping a strong cup of coffee would help you feel more human.

When you entered the kitchen, you found Jake already there, making breakfast. He looked up and smiled warmly at you. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You managed a small smile in return. "A bit hungover, but I'll survive. Thanks for helping me last night."

Jake poured you a cup of coffee and handed it to you. "No problem. How about some breakfast? Might help with the hangover."

You nodded, grateful for his kindness. As you sat down, you couldn't help but notice the way he moved around the kitchen with ease, his presence comforting.

After a few moments of silence, you decided to address the elephant in the room. "Jake, about last night... I'm sorry if I made things awkward."

Jake sat down across from you, his expression gentle. "You don't need to apologize, Y/N. I understand. You were vulnerable, and the alcohol didn't help. But I'm glad we didn't do anything we might regret."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "Thank you for that. I guess I was just feeling a bit lost."

"It's understandable," he said, reaching out to squeeze your hand briefly. "But we're here for you. And I'm here for you, as your friend."

His words brought a sense of comfort, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. "Thanks, Jake. I appreciate it."

The rest of the day was spent in a relaxed manner, with you, Jake and Heeseung enjoying the beach and each other's company. The awkwardness from the previous night slowly faded away, replaced by a renewed sense of camaraderie.

One evening, a few days later, you found yourself sitting on the beach alone, watching the sunset. The colors were breathtaking, and the gentle sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. You had been reflecting on your time at the beach house, the moments shared with Jake, and how much you had grown to care for him.

As if on cue, Jake appeared beside you, sitting down on the sand. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," you replied, smiling at him.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Finally, Jake broke the silence. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said the other night."

You turned to look at him, your heart beating a little faster. "You have?"

He nodded, his gaze steady. "Yeah. And I want you to know that my feelings for you haven't changed. I care about you, Y/N, more than just as Heeseung's sister."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Jake..."

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted the moment. "Y/N?"

You turned to see Sungchan standing a few feet away, looking awkward and out of place. "Sungchan? What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you," he said, his eyes darting between you and Jake. "I realized I made a huge mistake, and I want to make things right."

Jake tensed beside you, his jaw clenched. "I don't think now is the time, Sungchan." You answered.

Sungchan ignored him, focusing on you. "Please, Y/N. I know I messed up, but I still love you. Can we at least talk?"

You felt a wave of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to tell him to leave, but another part of you felt a need to get closure. "Fine. Let's talk, but not here. Jake, I'll be back soon."

Jake's eyes softened as he nodded, though you noticed a flicker of frustration in his expression. "Okay. I'll be here if you need me."

You walked a short distance away with Sungchan, just far enough to have a private conversation. "What do you want to say, Sungchan?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes filled with regret. "I know I hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I was an idiot, and I don't expect you to forgive me right away, but I want to try and make things right. I miss you."

You shook your head, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. "Sungchan, you cheated on me. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just fix with an apology."

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "But I want to try. Please, Y/N."

You looked back towards Jake, who was watching you from a distance, his expression unreadable. Turning back to Sungchan, you sighed. "I don't know, Sungchan. You've hurt me so much. Being here has helped me start to heal, and I don’t want to lose that progress."

"I understand," he said, his shoulders slumping. "But I love you, Y/N. I do. I was a fool, and I want to prove that I can change."

You felt a pang of confusion and hesitation. You had loved Sungchan deeply, and part of you still did. But the betrayal was a wound that hadn't fully healed. "I need time, Sungchan. I can't just jump back into things."

He nodded slowly. "I'll give you time. But please, think about it."

You watched him walk away, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with uncertainty. Returning to Jake, you sat back down beside him, the weight of the conversation heavy on your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I don't know," you replied honestly. "Sungchan wants to make things right, and part of me still cares about him. But I don’t know if I can ever trust him again."

Jake's jaw tightened, and you saw a flash of jealousy in his eyes. "He hurt you, Y/N. Don't forget that."

You sighed, leaning into him for support. "I know. It's just... complicated."

Jake wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "It's okay to be confused. Take the time you need to figure things out."

You appreciated Jake's comforting presence and the warmth of his embrace. The waves continued their rhythmic dance, and the stars began to twinkle above, casting a serene glow on the beach. The complexities of your feelings for Sungchan and Jake weighed heavily on your mind, but you knew that rushing into any decision wouldn't be wise. For now, you decided to enjoy the tranquility of the moment, enveloped in Jake's comforting presence.

–--

The next morning, you woke up with a renewed sense of clarity. You decided that while Sungchan deserved a chance to explain himself, you needed to focus on your own healing first. You couldn't rush back into a relationship that had caused you so much pain without giving yourself the time to fully understand your own feelings.

You took a deep breath and stepped out onto the deck, the salty breeze playing with your hair and the sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing background. Heeseung and Jake were already there, chatting and enjoying their morning coffee. The sight of Jake made your heart flutter, but you reminded yourself to stay focused on your own well-being.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Heeseung greeted with a grin. "We were starting to think you'd never wake up."

"Good morning," you replied, smiling as you grabbed a cup of coffee and joined them. "I just needed a little extra sleep."

Jake's eyes met yours, a spark of warmth and something deeper lingering in his gaze. "Sleep is important. You deserve all the rest you need."

You felt a rush of gratitude for his support. Despite the complicated emotions swirling within you, you felt a sense of peace being there, surrounded by the calming waves and the company of people who genuinely cared about you.

The day was spent enjoying the simple pleasures of the beach. You, Heeseung, and Jake walked along the shoreline, the sand warm beneath your feet and the ocean breeze tangling in your hair. The rhythmic sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop as you explored the coast, collecting seashells and marveling at the intricate patterns etched into each one.

Jake found a particularly beautiful shell, its surface iridescent and shimmering in the sunlight. He handed it to you with a soft smile. "This one's for you. It reminds me of you – beautiful and unique."

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Jake. It's lovely."

Heeseung interrupted the moment with a playful shout. "Hey, look at this one!" He held up a large, conch-shaped shell and blew into it, producing a surprisingly loud sound. You and Jake burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the crashing waves.

As you continued walking, the three of you came across a smooth stretch of beach perfect for skipping stones. Heeseung, ever the competitive one, challenged you and Jake to see who could skip a stone the farthest.

"I used to be the champion of skipping stones," Heeseung declared with a grin, selecting a flat stone and expertly sending it skimming across the water's surface.

"Challenge accepted," Jake replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He picked up a stone, giving you a quick, encouraging glance before sending it flying with a flick of his wrist. The stone bounced across the water, outdistancing Heeseung's.

"Not bad," you said, smiling at Jake. You chose a stone and took your turn, but it only skipped a couple of times before sinking. "Okay, maybe I need a bit more practice."

Jake laughed and moved closer to you, his hand brushing against yours as he handed you another stone. "Here, let me show you."

You felt a jolt of electricity at his touch, your heart racing as he positioned himself behind you, his arms guiding yours in the correct motion. "Just like this," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. Together, you sent the stone skipping across the water, this time managing several bounces before it sank.

"Much better," Jake said, his voice filled with pride.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding. His eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. The connection between you was undeniable, and it left you both exhilarated and terrified.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the heat became more intense, and you decided to take a swim. The water was refreshingly cool against your sun-warmed skin, and you relished the feeling of weightlessness as you floated on your back, staring up at the clear blue sky.

Jake swam over to you, his presence both comforting and electrifying. The way the sunlight danced on the surface of the water reflected in his eyes, making them appear even more captivating.

"This feels good," you said, smiling at him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, it does," he replied, his voice soft. "Being here with you makes it even better."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a rush of emotions. You were acutely aware of his proximity, the water doing little to diminish the heat between you. But before you could respond, Heeseung called out from the shore, waving you over to join him for a game of beach volleyball.

Reluctantly, you and Jake swam back to the shore. As you reached the shallows, Jake offered you his hand to help you out of the water. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it, feeling the strength and warmth of his grip as he pulled you up.

"Let's show Heeseung what we've got," Jake said with a wink, his playful confidence infectious.

The three of you set up a makeshift volleyball court using driftwood and an old fishing net Heeseung had found. The game was filled with laughter and friendly banter, the competitive spirit between you all making it even more enjoyable.

Despite your best efforts, Heeseung's volleyball skills were impressive, and he quickly took the lead. Jake, however, was determined not to let him win without a fight. He dove for the ball with impressive agility, his athleticism on full display.

At one point, Jake managed a spectacular save, sending the ball soaring back over the net. He landed in the sand beside you, grinning up at you as he caught his breath. "Not bad, huh?"

"Show-off," you teased, unable to keep the admiration out of your voice.

As the game continued, you found yourself growing more comfortable, the tension between you and Jake easing into a natural rhythm. The playful competition brought out the best in all of you, and for a while, you were able to forget the complexities of your emotions and just enjoy the moment.

By the time you all collapsed onto the sand, sweaty and out of breath, the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. Heeseung declared himself the winner with a triumphant grin, while you and Jake laughed and applauded his victory.

"Okay, okay, you win," Jake conceded, still smiling. "But next time, we'll be ready for you."

Heeseung laughed, patting Jake on the back. "We'll see about that. Good game, guys."

As you lay on the sand, watching the sky change colors, Jake turned to you with a thoughtful expression. "Thanks for today, Y/N. It was fun."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sun. "Yeah, it was. I'm glad we did this."

Jake's eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, you felt that familiar spark between you. But before either of you could say anything, Heeseung called out, suggesting you head back to the house for dinner.

You got up, brushing the sand off your legs and following Heeseung. Jake walked beside you, his shoulder occasionally bumping against yours in a way that felt both accidental and deliberate. Each touch sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to close the distance between you and let yourself fall into his embrace.

Dinner was a casual affair, with Heeseung manning the grill and Jake helping to prepare the sides. You set the table on the deck, the warm evening air filled with the scent of grilling meat and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

As you all sat down to eat, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and stories from the day. Jake's hand brushed against yours under the table, and you felt a rush of heat at the contact. He didn't pull away, his fingers lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and tantalizing.

After dinner, you all decided to take a walk along the beach. The moon had risen, casting a silvery glow over the water and turning the sand into a sparkling carpet. You walked between Jake and Heeseung, the three of you talking and laughing, the day's events still fresh in your minds.

At one point, Heeseung stopped to examine a particularly interesting shell, giving you and Jake a moment of privacy. You turned to Jake, your heart racing as you met his gaze.

"Today was amazing," you said softly, feeling the intensity of his stare.

"It was," he agreed, his voice low. "I wish every day could be like this."

You felt a pang of longing at his words, the same longing reflected in his eyes. Before you could respond, Heeseung called out, showing you the shell he'd found. The moment was broken, but the connection between you and Jake remained, a silent promise of what could be.

That night, as you lay in bed, you replayed the events of the day in your mind. The way Jake's eyes lingered on you, the feel of his hand brushing against yours, the electric charge of his touch. You couldn't deny the growing attraction between you, but you also knew that you needed time to sort out your feelings.

You drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Jake, the warmth of his presence a comforting balm to your soul. For the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of hope, a belief that things could get better.

–

The next morning, you woke up with a mix of determination and dread. You had agreed to meet Sungchan today to discuss what had happened, but the thought of facing him made your stomach churn. You knew it was necessary to get closure and to move on, but it didn't make it any easier.

As you stepped out onto the deck, you found Jake and Heeseung already there, enjoying their morning coffee. The sight of Jake brought a sense of comfort, but also a flutter of nerves. He looked up, his eyes filled with concern as he noticed the tension in your expression.

"Morning," Jake said softly, his gaze lingering on you.

"Morning," you replied, forcing a smile. "I'm meeting Sungchan today."

Jake's jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of jealousy crossing his eyes. "Do you want me to come with you?"

You shook your head, appreciating the offer but knowing you needed to face this on your own. "Thanks, Jake. But I think I need to do this by myself."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Just know that I'm here if you need me."

With a deep breath, you left the beach house and headed to the café where you had agreed to meet Sungchan. The walk seemed to take forever, each step weighed down by the impending confrontation. When you arrived, you saw Sungchan sitting at a table, looking uncomfortable and out of place.

"Y/N," he greeted, standing up as you approached. "Thanks for coming."

"Let's get this over with," you said, taking a seat across from him.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Sungchan fidgeted with his cup, avoiding your gaze. Finally, he spoke. "I know I messed up, Y/N. And I'm really sorry. I want to make things right."

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words but also the anger and hurt they couldn't erase. "Sungchan, you cheated on me. You broke my trust. I'm not sure there's any way to make that right."

He looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and something darker. "I know I made a mistake, but it feels like you've moved on pretty quickly. I saw how you were acting with Jake."

His words stung, the accusation laced with jealousy and bitterness. "Jake has been a good friend to me, that's all."

Sungchan's expression hardened. "Really? Because it sure looked like more than that. You were practically throwing yourself at him. It's like you couldn't wait to get over me."

Anger flared in your chest. "That's not fair, Sungchan. You don't get to judge how I handle my feelings after what you did."

He leaned forward, his voice low and harsh. "Maybe if you hadn't been so easy to replace, I wouldn't have looked elsewhere."

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you breathless with shock and hurt. "How dare you."

"Just calling it like I see it," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "You were all over Jake. Maybe you were just looking for an excuse."

Tears filled your eyes, the pain of his words cutting deep. "I don't have to listen to this." You stood up abruptly, knocking over your chair in your haste to leave.

"You know I'm right," he called after you, but you didn't look back.

You walked back to the beach house, tears streaming down your face. You tried to compose yourself before you arrived, but the emotions were too overwhelming. As you reached the door, you quickly wiped your eyes, hoping no one would notice. But as you stepped inside, Jake was there, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

"Y/N, what happened?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You shook your head, trying to hide your tears. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

But Jake wasn't convinced. He gently took your arm, guiding you to your room. "Come on, let's talk."

Once inside, you broke down, the weight of Sungchan's words finally crashing down on you. Jake held you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"He said such awful things," you sobbed. "He made me feel like it was my fault, like I was the one who did something wrong."

Jake pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with anger and tenderness. "None of this is your fault, Y/N. Sungchan is just trying to manipulate you. You're amazing, and you deserve so much better than him."

You looked up at Jake, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. He gently wiped away your tears, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Thank you, Jake."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I care about you, Y/N. More than you know."

The intensity of his gaze took your breath away. Before you could overthink it, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was filled with all the emotions you had been holding back – the pain, the longing, the desire.

Jake responded instantly, his arms tightening around you as he deepened the kiss. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared passion and comfort.

As the kiss ended, Jake pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I am now."

Jake smiled back, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

You spent the rest of the evening together, talking and holding each other, the connection between you growing stronger with every passing moment. For the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of hope and happiness, knowing that you were finally moving forward with someone who truly cared about you.

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in Jake's arms. The warmth and comfort of his presence made it hard to get up, but the sunlight streaming through the window signaled the start of a new day. You gently extricated yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

As you looked at your reflection, the events of the previous day replayed in your mind. Sungchan's harsh words still stung, but Jake's comfort and support had made all the difference. You knew you were on the path to healing, and you were grateful for Jake's presence in your life.

After getting dressed, you went to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of coffee and pancakes soon filled the air, and you heard Jake stirring in the other room. Heeseung joined you shortly after, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Morning, sis," Heeseung greeted with a yawn. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes!" you replied, setting a plate in front of him.

"Smells amazing," Heeseung said, digging in with enthusiasm.

Jake appeared moments later, his hair tousled and a sleepy smile on his face. "Good morning," he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Good morning," you replied, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sight of him. "Breakfast is ready."

The three of you sat down to eat, the atmosphere relaxed and filled with easy conversation. Despite the lingering tension from the previous day's confrontation with Sungchan, you felt a sense of peace and normalcy returning.

After breakfast, you decided to spend the day at the beach. The sun was shining, and the water looked inviting. Heeseung suggested a new friendly competition of beach volleyball, and you eagerly agreed, excited for the distraction and for the volleyball revenge.

As you set up the net, Jake walked over to you, his expression serious. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, Jake. Yesterday was tough, but I'm feeling better today. Thanks to you."

Jake's expression softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "I'm here for you, Y/N. Always."

The game of volleyball was just what you needed. You, Jake, and Heeseung played with enthusiasm, the friendly competition lifting your spirits. The laughter and playful banter helped you forget about Sungchan and focus on the present moment.

---

As the sun began to set, you all decided to build a bonfire. The glow of the flames cast a warm light on your faces as you roasted marshmallows and shared stories. Jake sat next to you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, a silent reassurance of his support.

Heeseung went inside to grab more marshmallows, leaving you and Jake alone by the fire. The crackling flames and the distant sound of the waves created an intimate atmosphere.

"Jake," you began, turning to face him. "I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. You've been amazing."

Jake smiled, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "You don't have to thank me, Y/N. I care about you, and I want to be here for you."

You felt a surge of emotion at his words, and before you knew it, you were leaning in to kiss him. The kiss was gentle at first, but it quickly deepened as you both gave in to the passion that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. Jake's eyes were filled with intensity, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I've wanted to do it again for so long," he admitted, his voice husky.

"Me too," you whispered, feeling a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

Jake leaned in to kiss you again, and this time, there was no holding back. The connection between you was undeniable, and you both knew that this was just the beginning of something special.

---

The next few days were filled with moments of closeness and shared affection. You and Jake spent your mornings walking along the beach, your afternoons swimming and lounging in the sun, and your evenings sharing stories and laughter around the bonfire. The bond between you grew stronger with each passing day, and you felt a sense of happiness and contentment that you hadn't felt in a long time.

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of colors, Jake took your hand and led you down to the water's edge. The gentle waves lapped at your feet as you walked along the shore, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange.

"Y/N," Jake said, his voice soft. "I've been thinking a lot about us. About what happens when we leave here."

You felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving the beach house and returning to reality. "Yeah, me too."

"I don't want this to end," Jake continued, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I know things will be different when we go back, but I want to be with you. I want to make this work."

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words. "I want that too, Jake. More than anything."

He smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. "Then let's do it. Let's make this work, no matter what."

You nodded, feeling a sense of determination and hope. "Yes, let's. do it"

Jake pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was filled with promise and love. As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey together.

---

The last night at the beach house was bittersweet. You, Jake, and Heeseung sat around the bonfire, reminiscing about the past weeks and making plans for the future. There was a sense of finality in the air, but also a feeling of excitement for what lay ahead.

As the fire burned low, Heeseung excused himself to go to bed, leaving you and Jake alone. You turned to him, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this was your last night at the beach house.

"I'm going to miss this place," you said softly, looking around at the familiar surroundings.

"Me too," Jake replied, his voice filled with emotion. "But we'll always have these memories. And we'll make new ones."

You smiled, feeling a sense of comfort in his words. "Yeah, we will."

Jake leaned in to kiss you, and you melted into his embrace, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours. The kiss started slow, gentle, but quickly deepened, becoming more urgent as if he was trying to convey all the emotions he had been holding back. His hands cupped your face, his touch tender yet firm, and you could feel the warmth of his palms against your skin.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the heat radiating from his body. The world around you seemed to blur and fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other. Jake's hands moved from your face to your waist, his fingers tracing soft patterns along your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

As the kiss grew more passionate, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins. Your hands roamed over Jake's back, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, and you could sense his breath hitch as your touch grew bolder. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was intoxicating, making you dizzy with longing.

He captured your lips again, his kiss more demanding, and you responded with equal fervor. You could feel the hunger in his touch, the way his hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, and with a gentle tug, he lifted it over your head, leaving you exposed to the cool night air.

Jake's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his gaze filled with admiration and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands trailing down your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You felt a flush spread across your cheeks at his words, but there was no time for embarrassment. You reached for his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion, your fingers grazing the smooth skin of his chest. The feel of his bare skin against yours was electrifying, and you couldn't help but gasp as his hands found their way to your back, pulling you even closer.

The night air was filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the gentle crash of the waves in the distance. Every touch, every kiss, seemed to heighten your senses, making you acutely aware of every movement, every sensation.

Jake's lips left yours to trail kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, and he took full advantage, his mouth leaving a path of burning kisses down to your collarbone.

As the night wore on, the connection between you and Jake grew stronger, the bond forged in shared desire and deep emotion. Every kiss, every touch, seemed to bring you closer together, weaving an unbreakable thread between your hearts.

You lost track of time, lost in the pleasure of each other's embrace, the world outside forgotten. The stars wheeled overhead, a silent witness to the love and passion unfolding beneath them.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. The feelings and connection between you were strong enough to withstand anything, and you felt a deep sense of contentment knowing that this was just the start of your journey together.

The night might have been filled with passion and desire, but it was the trust that you shared that truly made it special. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt a sense of hope and happiness that you hadn't felt in a long time, knowing that with Jake by your side, you'll be safe.

---

The next morning, you packed your bags with a mix of sadness and anticipation. The beach house, with all its memories and moments of closeness with Jake, had become a sanctuary, a place where you had found healing and hope. Leaving it behind was bittersweet, but you knew you were also embarking on a new chapter with Jake, and that brought a thrill of excitement.

Jake helped you with your bags, his touch gentle and reassuring. As you both loaded the car, Heeseung appeared, his usual playful grin in place. "Well, it’s been an amazing summer, hasn't it?"

"It really has," you agreed, glancing at Jake, who gave you a warm smile in return.

Heeseung pulled you into a quick hug, then turned to Jake with a knowing look. "Take care of my sister, alright? I might be her older brother, but I’m not that oblivious or blind."

You felt your cheeks flush, realizing what he was implying. "Heeseung, we—"

He held up a hand, cutting you off with a laugh. "No need to explain. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not as oblivious as you might think. I don't usually take that many naps.”

Heeseung gave you both a warm smile, his playful demeanor softening. "Seriously though, take care of each other."

Jake laughed, clapping Heeseung on the back. "I will. Thanks for everything, man."

"Yeah, yeah," Heeseung said with a wink, his finger pointed like a gun in Jake's direction. "Just remember, I know where you live."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection for your brother. "Alright, enough with the threats."

With one last look at the beach house, you climbed into the car. The drive back to campus was filled with laughter and shared memories. Jake recounted funny moments from the summer, making you laugh until your sides hurt. The bond between you felt stronger than ever, fortified by the time you had spent together and the experiences you had shared.

As you drove, the scenery changed from the serene coastal views to the bustling streets near your campus. The familiar sights brought a pang of nostalgia for the summer you were leaving behind, but they also stirred a sense of excitement for the future. You glanced at Jake, feeling grateful for his presence and the promise of what lay ahead.

When you finally arrived back at the campus, Jake parked the car and turned to you, his eyes filled with love. "Welcome back," he said softly, leaning in to kiss you.

"Thank you," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness. The kiss was sweet and tender, a preview of all the good things to come.

As you stepped out of the car and looked around, you saw your friends and classmates, their faces filled with curiosity and excitement. Some waved, while others approached to greet you. It felt strange and yet comforting to be back in the familiar surroundings of your campus.

One of your closest friends, Karina, hurried over, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/N! You're back! And... Jake?" Her gaze shifted between the two of you, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "So, what’s the story here?"

You exchanged a glance with Jake, who squeezed your hand reassuringly. "It’s a long story," you said, smiling. "But the short version is that Jake and I are together now."

Karina's smile widened. "I knew something was up when you kept mentioning him in your texts. I'm so happy for you!"

As more friends gathered around, you felt a sense of warmth and belonging. Everyone was eager to hear about your summer, and you and Jake shared stories, each one bringing laughter and excitement.

Throughout the day, Jake stayed by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort and joy. The transition from the serene beach house to the lively campus was made easier by his support and the love that had blossomed between you.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the campus, you and Jake found a quiet spot under a large oak tree. You sat together, his arm around you, watching as students milled about, catching up with friends and preparing for the new semester.

"I can't believe summer is over," you said softly, leaning into Jake.

"It might be over, but this is just the beginning for us," Jake replied, his voice filled with conviction. "We have so much to look forward to."

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment and excitement. "I know. And I'm ready for whatever comes next, as long as we're together."

Jake pressed a kiss to your temple. "We will be."

The evening air was cool and refreshing, and you felt a deep sense of peace as you sat there with Jake. The challenges of the past were behind you, and the future was filled with endless possibilities. You knew that there would be ups and downs, but with Jake by your side, you felt ready to face anything.

As the campus lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over the grounds, you realized that this place, with all its memories and promises, was where your new journey with Jake would truly begin. And you couldn't wait to see what the future holds.

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

Taglist : @heelovesmeknot @dreamiestay @anormieee @citylightsdoll @tiffanyyamarr-blog @ak-aaa-li @capri-cuntz @dreamiestay

[i-am-a-fish]

I WANNA RANT ABOUT SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED AT WORK TODAY

I GOT SCOLDED FOR HAVING BASIC HUMAN EMPATHY AND THIS JOB SUCKS

if you do not wish to have that negativity on your dash, then keep scrolling on by 😌 and if you're worried, don't be, I'm fine and everyone is fine, it ain't that bad

NAH IT'S ACTUALLY REALLY BAD

I just didn't wanna worry people who didn't have the energy to read an essay

I work as a tour guide and we have a strict no-free-tours policy. Everyone riding "must" buy a ticket. The thing is our tours are outrageously expensive, like almost $20 per person.

The tours are outside and in a big park, and it's very humid today. There was a little kid, no older than 5 who fainted from heat stroke today. Their parents asked me for a ride back to the entrance so they could get home as soon as possible (and get to the air conditioned welcome center).

With no hesitation I tell them of course and offer them a free ride back to the welcome center. I don't even ask them if they have tickets or not because it does not matter, they needed help, and there was plenty of space on the bus to bring them back home.

Because I do this, my manager calls me into his office, he's very mad, and he scolds me for giving those people a free ride.

like??? WE HAVE A VEHICLE, THAT CAN BRING THEM TO A SAFER PLACE VERY QUICKLY

I DO NOT CARE ABOUT COMPANY POLICY, HUMAN SAFETY COMES FIRST

If someone needs help, and I can help them, I will not try to sell them a ticket, not that I even have a cash register with me to do so.

just. what the hell

have some empathy.

The kid is definitely alright by the way, I got them their free ride and into the air conditioned building, so no need to worry. I'm just upset

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”