#but I'm in my feels tonight thinking about life and such

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast VIII

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: You look after Ellie

"Yeah, I mean, obviously Daan and I have a kid so our holidays are a little different. We have to cater more to y/n and her needs rather than our own. But, yeah, we make sure our daughter has a lot of fun when we go on trips."

It's such a throwaway comment that Daan can't believe it's become this big thing. No one had ever seemed to care when Beth said a similar thing about you during the days the two of you were at Arsenal.

It's strange that people suddenly have an issue with it when Ellie says it.

But, for some reason, people do have an issue. As if Ellie coming into your life later meant that you and her weren't mother and daughter, as if Daan would plan to marry someone that couldn't bring herself to fill a maternal role in your life.

She shakes her head dismissively as she looks up from Ellie's phone and the doom scrolling her partner had gone through last night.

"They're stupid," Daan says," And strangers saying crap on the internet has no baring on how we're raising our daughter. Okay? No matter what they say, you feeling like y/n's mother isn't wrong and it isn't weird. You're her mother and she's your daughter, alright?"

It's strange to see Ellie so insecure about something. It's not a feeling that Daan likes at all.

"I think so. You think so. Y/n thinks so."

"Does she?" Ellie says back," I just...I don't know, Daan. Does she really?"

"You know she does," Daan insists," Ellie, that girl adores you even if she tries to hide it. She loves you. Who else will try to convince me to get her a gerbil?"

"Pets are good for kids! She's old enough now to understand responsibility."

Daan laughs. "There you go. Having a conversation with me that my parents had when I was younger. You're a good mum, Ellie. No matter what strangers on the internet say."

"I know," Ellie says, putting on a bright smile that Daan can see through easily," I'm just being a bit silly. I know. I promise."

Daan chooses not to push it, dropping a soft kiss to Ellie's lips before heading off towards your bedroom.

You're sitting on the bed, playing with some of the action figures you got for Christmas.

"Hey," Daan says," I'm heading out soon. You promise you'll be good for your Mum?"

You rolls your eyes, huffing and puffing like Daan's interrupted you in the middle of a test instead of just a casual game with your toys.

"I'll be good for Ellie."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

"Hey..." Daan crouches next to you, hand reaching out to touch your cheek. "Your Mum needs you to be extra good tonight, alright? She...She's feeling a little down right now so, please, just...be good."

Your brow furrows in confusion at how serious Daan sounds and you find yourself nodding.

"I'll be good for Ellie. I promise."

Daan smiles. "Good girl. I should be back later but you'll already be in bed. I love you."

"Love you too."

Ellie hadn't really expected for you to emerge from your room until dinner, too engrossed in making your Autobots fight the Decepticons but here you are, standing in front of her.

"You okay, pipsqueak?"

The thunder crashes before you can speak and you nearly jumped into Ellie's arms.

"Do you think Mumma is okay?" You say," Out in the storm? She gets scared, you know."

"Daan gets scared or you get scared?"

You purse your lips, trying to give an air of indifference that isn't nearly as convincing as you think it is. "I'm a big girl. I'm not scared of anything."

Another crash of thunder has you flinching and Ellie takes pity on you.

"I think Daan is just fine. She'll come home if she's scared."

"Good." You nod. "That's...That's good. She should do that."

Ellie shrugs. "And, you know, when I'm scared of storms, I usually build a fort. That usually helps."

"Right..." You eye the rain soaked windows warily. "You should...You should tell Mumma..."

"Or," Ellie suggests," We can build a fort here...now, for her when she comes back? Would you like that?"

"For Mumma," You make sure to say," Of course."

Ellie bites down her laugh. "For Daan, yes. Because Daan's the one scared of storms."

"Yes. I'll..." You grit your teeth as thunder crashes again and lightning flashes outside. "I'll grab some blankets."

It doesn't take long at all for the fort to be finished, even if it falls multiple times because of the sudden bouts of thunder that make you jump even if you deny it.

"I...I'm not scared," You say, teeth chattering anxiously as you lay on Ellie's chest in the fort," I'm...I'm just doing this so you don't get scared like Mumma does."

"You're doing a good job," Ellie tells you, gentle hands carding through your hair softly," You're making sure I'm not scared at all."

"Mumma said you were feeling down but it's okay," You continue," I...I won't let the storm get you."

"I...Daan said that about me?"

"I don't know how Mumma already knew about the storm but it's okay. I've got you."

Ellie smiles down at you. "I...Thanks, y/n."

"Of course, Mum," You say," I'll protect you."

[seitmai]

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?" If you saved his mom, why do this?

💔💔💔

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…” “Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.” “I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

Uff I think it's too late for that 🫣

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

I'm sure she would not be happy

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

Like a bird in a gilded cage

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied. You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His audacity has no bounds

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically. Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

I get her frustration...

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

A hefty one at that!

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

Period!

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

Good god something is so wrong with his understanding of love🫣🥴

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?” “I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were. “That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

For real 🥴

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

👀

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.” “…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Hahah the perfect answer

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight .”You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veinspp. “Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

At what cost 😬

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I���ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[batboysanonymous]

Make Me Juno

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she’d crave permanence, yet with Azriel, the idea of forever doesn’t seem so daunting. But when desire turns into something deeper, she must decide if she’s truly ready to let him lock her down for good.

Based on the song: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

───────────────────────────────

"You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah"

There was something dangerous about the way Azriel looked at her. Something that made Y/N’s breath hitch, made her fingers curl against the silk sheets beneath her. He wasn’t even touching her—yet.

From his place at the foot of the bed, shadows swirling around his broad frame, his hazel eyes burned with a hunger that sent warmth coiling in her belly.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, voice as smooth as the night itself.

Y/N forced herself to swallow, to not look away from the intensity in his gaze. "No."

His lips tilted into something resembling a smirk, and gods, that was unfair. Azriel had no right to look that good, to have such restraint when she could barely hold herself together.

"Then why," he murmured, stepping closer, "is your heart racing?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, hating that he could hear it. But she didn’t answer. Not when he reached out, tracing his fingers down her bare arm, goosebumps blooming in his wake. Not when his free hand cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"You make me want to ruin you," he said, voice so dark, so devastatingly quiet, it sent a shiver down her spine. "But not tonight."

Her lips parted to argue, to beg, but then his lips brushed hers—soft, fleeting, before he pulled away, leaving her breathless.

She wanted him. More than she wanted air.

"I know you want my touch for life If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno"

Azriel wasn’t used to this.

To Y/N sitting in his lap, straddling him as if she was meant to be there. To the soft candlelight casting golden hues over her skin. To the way her fingers trailed along his jaw, her thumb brushing the scarred flesh of his hands, her eyes filled with something he couldn’t name.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asked, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it.

Azriel tensed. "I—"

Her fingers pressed against his lips, silencing him. "Just listen," she whispered. "Because I think about it. About us."

He swallowed hard. "And what do you see?"

Y/N’s lips tilted into something secret, something only meant for him. "You," she breathed. "Always you."

His chest ached. He had spent centuries in the shadows, never daring to dream of something like this. Someone like her. And yet, she was here, offering him more than he ever thought he could have.

His hands slid up her back, pressing her closer, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his own.

"Y/N," he rasped, forehead pressing against hers. "You’re going to be the death of me."

"Good," she murmured. "Because I’d rather spend a thousand lifetimes loving you than a single day without you."

He was done for. Completely, utterly done for.

"Adore me Hold me and explore me Mark your territory"

Y/N gasped as her back hit the mattress, Azriel’s body caging her beneath him, his wings flaring wide. His lips traced a path along her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse point, sending heat spiraling through her.

"You’re mine," he growled, voice wrecked. "Say it."

A breathless laugh escaped her. "You already know the answer."

"Say it anyway."

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly. "I’m yours, Az."

A low groan left him, his hands gripping her hips possessively. "Damn right, you are."

His lips found hers again, claiming, desperate. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, she knew—there was no turning back.

Not when she had already fallen.

And gods, how he made her want to stay locked down forever.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[steddieas-shegoes]

never not thinking of you

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "just in case you ever foolishly forget, i'm never not thinking of you" - virginia woolf

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 1009 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, friends to lovers, getting together, masturbation, handjobs

💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭

Eddie’s hand moves faster, his grip tightening as he closes his eyes.

“Fuck, yes,” Eddie bites his lip, remembering almost too late that he has to be as quiet as possible. Steve’s in the other bed, and this motel room is not big enough to mask his heavy panting.

It’s Steve’s fault anyway, walking out of their shared bathroom earlier with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his hair as he apologized and asked if Eddie had toothpaste since he forgot to pack some. Eddie barely managed to pull his own from his backpack and hold it out to Steve.

He pretended to be asleep the next time Steve came out of the bathroom.

That was a while ago, and Eddie’s been hard ever since. He kept trying to will it away, and even managed to almost fall asleep a while ago. But then Steve moaned in his sleep, quiet, probably just his body settling properly into sleep. It was enough for Eddie.

He knew he wasn’t gonna fall asleep until he got rid of the problem, but going into the bathroom would definitely wake Steve up, so he made the equally stupid decision to take care of it under the sheets of his bed.

He squeezes the base of his cock, biting the back of his other hand to stop a moan from escaping his throat.

Steve coughs. Eddie freezes.

People cough in their sleep all the time. Steve isn’t awake. He didn’t hear anything.

Eddie moves his hand up, rubs his thumb against the tip. He’s so wet, it’s gonna cause a mess.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is barely more than a whisper, like he doesn’t know for sure if Eddie’s awake and wouldn’t want to be the one to wake him if he isn’t.

He considers pretending he’s asleep, but honestly, he’s resolved himself to his fate. He’s never gonna come tonight, and he might as well be awake.

“Yeah?” He still hasn’t let go of his cock.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep.”

“You sound a little…worked up. Did you have a nightmare?”

Damn Steve. Genuinely, damn him to hell.

“Uh…nope. Just can’t sleep.”

The bed sinks next to Eddie and he wonders if maybe he did fall asleep and this is a dream. He’s terrified to turn his head as he feels Steve’s arm brush against his.

“Thinking too hard?” Steve asks casually, like he isn’t inches away from realizing Eddie’s hand is on his very hard, leaking dick.

“I guess,” Eddie hopes the answer is enough. He cannot possibly explain this to Steve and he doesn’t even want to try.

“What about?”

Steve’s looking at him; He feels the heat of his gaze on the side of his face. His hand is hot on his dick, almost burning him. All he can think about is Steve knowing he’s touching himself.

“Just the day. Tomorrow. Everything,” Eddie provides.

“Did something specific happen with the day to lead to you touching yourself in bed?”

Eddie groans. He moves his hand away now that he’s been caught, but Steve’s hand shoots out to stop him.

Steve’s hand is so close to his dick.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks again.

Eddie could lie, probably should lie.

“You.”

Steve’s next inhale is long, his exhale even longer.

“Me?”

“I’m never not thinking about you, Steve.”

Steve sits up, and the room isn’t quite dark enough to hide the look on his face. It’s like he’s learned the meaning of life, like someone told him a government secret. Which is silly, because he knows many government secrets, and most of the time his face did not look so awed.

“You do this a lot?” Steve sounds breathless. His hand shakily covers Eddie’s, a finger brushing against the side of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie nods, barely breathing. His chest constricts as Steve squeezes his hand.

“Steve, if you aren’t gonna be cool with my cum all over your hand, you probably should move it,” Eddie’s suddenly extremely close, something he’d been chasing for a while right at his– and Steve’s– fingertips.

“I wouldn’t have my hand there if it would bother me,” Steve laughs. “How long have you been touching yourself?”

“I think the first time was when I was 12? I didn’t know what I was doing though…”

“Eddie,” Steve laughs again, leans down to kiss his forehead. “I meant tonight.”

“Oh,” Eddie whines as Steve’s hand pushes his to start stroking his own cock. “Fuck. Okay. Uh, I guess really only a few minutes in bed, but I’ve been hard for…a lot longer.”

“Did you hear me in the shower?” Steve asks.

“Hear you?”

“Yeah, I thought I was quiet, but maybe the fan wasn’t loud enough.”

The words are hard to follow because Steve’s hand is hot against Eddie’s, giving him a handjob while also not. Eddie’s hand is still the one moving, but Steve’s is the one making it move.

This is new and Eddie’s pretty sure it’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Wait, you got off in the shower?” Eddie’s brain finally catches up to Steve’s words. “Why?”

“Because I’m never not thinking about you either, Eddie,” Steve grins at him, devilishly charming as always.

Eddie’s head is spinning and it’s not just because of the tight coil in his gut sending out warning signs that he’s gonna come any second. He’s floating out of his body as Steve admits that he’s apparently been thinking about Eddie in a not so innocent way, too.

A very sexy way, actually.

“Steve, I-” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist in warning. “I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead, been waiting for it,” Steve encourages.

Minutes pass afterwards. There’s silence until Steve groans and rolls onto his back.

“Now I’m hard again,” he says.

Eddie’s ears perk up like a dog who just heard he’s getting a treat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You gonna do something about it?”

“Can I?”

Steve grabs his hand and pulls it over to his cock. “Please.”

[bvidzsoo]

Minaaaa, my lovely Mina, let me munch on your cheeks, you're literally so sweet my jaw was on the floor reading this...like SHUT UP

Ngl I was surprised when you said you'd be pushing back reading this cuz DAFUQ Hongjoong is literally your man, but priorities first, I guess-ahahaha, luv u don't come for me ok bye.

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Man, keep your toes under the blanket tonight because I might just find them...you always say stuff that just makes me go AUDHIFBIIHFNKABSDKGF-

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭 It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

I feel like you somehow always have beef with my male leads and idk if it's funny or if it's starting to make me sad AHAHAHA, Hongjoong was tryna do good but my mans was smoked out and also just...trying to help lmao. I didn't even intend to make him mysterious, but I'm certainly fine with it coming off like that. Our man, Hongjoong, is far from being perfect so it's good mister didn't get away with anything haha.

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet.

Lmao this sent me into a laughing fit cuz honestly...same, bestie, same. That man would've ended up with water tossed in his face minimum, and then would've come the hands throwing.

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analyze me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

I guess this is how long your distaste for him lasted HAHA, I'm glad you'd rather have him [redacted] you than hate on him until the end of the drabble...wink wink

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

tbh I haven't even thought about this, but them introducing each other later on felt more organic, so yup, you're right...they did grow into acquittances at last.

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

...maybe? 👀👀

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

I hadn't even considered the fact that the Hongjoong in my story resembles the one irl, but I guess my subconscious is stronger since it worked without me even thinking of it ahahaha...but with that said, I'm glad I could make Hongjoong nuanced and true to his character, and he really did feel like he'd caught God's hand when the MC so easily saw through his art, seeing Hongjoong as he was and what he stood for. All in all...these two are a good pairing and I can assure you they have a happy future lined up in front of them ACK.

Thank you Minaa for reading and for possibly being my biggest supporter...? hehe, luv u lots<3

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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[lsunstreakerl]

v fun for the prompt thing! how about motogp max + all the ways charles tries to 'casually' arrange a hangout with him

- time travel anon, who is actually sim rig anon, and I'm just going to give myself an emoji actually

- 🎮

LMAO emoji might be the best way to go. wouldn't want to accidentally baptize you a third time. this ended up being 1.1k words and it's still technically only two separate incidents, but like- Charles is so down bad I simply couldn't condense it.

"So like- I am thinking it is like this, yes?"

Charles grins brightly at Carlos, who is staring blankly at him from the other side of the hotel bed.

"Charles- I am right here. I am shirtless, in your hotel room, and all you can talk about is Max."

Charles frowns. He doesn't want to upset Carlos, it's just that Carlos knows Max (!!!) and he needs to navigate this very carefully.

He reaches over to pat Carlos's chest, gets briefly distracted feeling him up before he sees the unimpressed face he's receiving.

"Charles."

"Carlos."

Carlos groans, flopping onto his back.

"I am getting cockblocked by Max, again, and he is not even here. When I get my hands on him-"

"Do you think he likes romantic dates or is he more of a 'skinny dip in the Monaco Harbor' kind of guy?"

Carlos's hand drops onto his face. He looks physically pained.

"Please do not go skinny dipping in the harbor. You live here. You will never live that down."

Charles frowns.

"It's not like I can just go to Spain, mate."

He's pretty sure Carlos's eye is twitching.

"What, exactly, is stopping you? Because if it means you'll stop waxing poetic about one of my best friend's waists, I will buy you that ticket myself, Perceval."

Charles sits straight up, duvet falling around his waist.

"You will?"

"Oh for- I was kidding- Dios, fine, fine. Sit back down."

Charles settles back down, batting his eyelashes in the way he knows other men go weak for.

"Thank you, Carlos."

Carlos scowls as he jabs at his phone.

"Do not thank me yet- he is a maneater, Charles. Don't go falling in love with him."

Charles has met many maneaters. Normally, it doesn't seem worth the effort to try and reform them- usually women, usually perfectly content with their lifestyle. Max is so stunningly captivating that Charles will gladly let him take chunks out of him, however much he wants.

"Maybe he just has not met anyone interesting enough yet."

Charles gives Carlos his most dazzling smile, dimples and all.

Carlos remains unimpressed.

"Right. I'm sending you your ticket- and you better put some effort in, because if I have to listen to you head over heels, and him bitching about your lackluster sex skills, I'll end it all, yes?"

Charles leans forward, pecking him on the forehead.

"Yes yes, best sex of my life, I understand. Sorry you are not fucking me tonight. I think Lando's up for it?"

Carlos huffs as he pulls his clothes back on, running a hand through his hair as he makes his way to the door.

"You are lucky you're pretty, Perceval."

------

"CHARLES!"

Ollie is shouting to be heard over the thumping bass, but Charles is in the habit of keeping an ear out for his children, so he leans in closer.

He notices with a slight shiver of horror that Ollie is nearly his height already.

"YES?"

Ollie gestures at Charles' new yacht around them.

"IS IT A HOUSEWARMING PARTY IF IT'S A YACHT?"

Charles leans back, thinking. He's actually not sure.

"GO ASK GEORGE."

Ollie nods and bounds away.

Charles should've told him to go ask Sebastian- it would've been hilarious. There's all sorts of drivers here, somewhat of an open invitation for his friends.

There's a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to find Lando grinning evilly at him.

He narrows his eyes.

"WHAT?"

Lando leans up right next to his ear, cupping a hand to be heard better.

Not that it matters, because he keeps shouting a decibel even louder than the actual music- potentially an attempt to sabotage Ferrari by blowing out Charles' eardrum.

"YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO'S HERE!"

Charles furrows his eyebrows.

"WHO?"

Lando turns him slightly to the side, and Charles' eyes scan the crowd. It's all people he knows, although Carlos and Fernando are standing next to-

"Oh my god."

He hears Lando cackling behind him.

"IF YOU DON'T TAP THAT I WILL!"

Charles whips around, shaking Lando by the shoulders while he contemplates dropping him overboard.

"DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, YOU EVIL LITTLE TWINK."

There's a loud burst of laughter from where Carlos and Fernando and standing with Max, and Lando should thank his lucky stars that Charles is so easily distracted, because he gets to live another day.

Max has a wide grin on his face, a drink in his hand, and he's in the shortest fucking shorts-

Charles is not sure how he's meant to handle this.

It doesn't help that Max and Carlos are both wet, clearly having come back on deck from the water. The fabric is clingy, and Charles is going to die, because Max has a tattoo winding up his thigh, disappearing under the hem of his shorts and reappearing just slightly above the waistband. It must cross his entire hip.

Charles would discover a new element if it meant getting to figure out where else it goes.

He picks his jaw up off the ground and gets another drink, something bright and fruity and full of vodka.

Carlos rolls his eyes when Charles approaches, but Fernando lights up, grabbing Charles' wrist and tugging him closer into their little trio.

"CHARLES! This is Max! He is like you, yes? Young and fast! He is a MotoGP driver!"

Charles is a little stunned for a moment, because the only other time he's seen Fernando be so outwardly and obviously proud of other drivers is when it's his own karting academy kids.

Max laughs, and the sound is like silver in Charles' ears, pulls his attention like a magnet.

"We've met, Nando."

Charles could listen to him forever.

"And it's always a pleasure to meet you again, Max."

Carlos makes a gagging noise and turns away, and Max's eyes are sparkling as he grins at Charles, scrunched up into little crescents.

"I like the yacht! Very..."

He waves the hand not holding his drink, and Charles notices he has black nail polish, brain screeching to a halt as he completely misses the rest of what Max is saying.

It's quiet for a second, Max watching him half expectant and half amused.

Charles should probably respond.

"Thank you!"

Max bursts into laughter again, but this time it's because of Charles, and the feeling is comparable to when he snatches pole at the last second.

Charles made him laugh.

Max leans over, water droplets on his neck and shoulders, deftly swiping Charles' drink out of his hand. He raises it in a mock toast, and Charles wants to kick everyone else of this stupid yacht right now-

"Cheers to the yacht owner, yeah?"

Charles has the power of vodka and the French language in his pocket.

"Veux-tu m'épouser?"

Max drains his glass in a smooth pull.

"Still not drunk enough for French, solcito."

Charles chickens out.

"I said we should get dinner sometime!"

Max takes another step forward, right into Charles' space, fingers resting lightly on his forearm. Charles can't look away from him, blue eyes piercing right through him.

Max is still smiling at him.

"I'd like that."

[onbearfeet]

Sometimes, you have to start a new quilt.

I started a project, years ago, to make a throw quilt for each season of the year. I wanted to be able to drape the quilt over a living-room quilt rack or maybe the couch and change it every three months. Voilá. Decor.

I wanted this for a lot of reasons, starting with the fact that lying under a quilt and reading is one of my greatest pleasures in life, but also including the fact that I have synesthesia. My brain tends to jumble up time, space, numbers, and colors. For example, the number two is dark bottle green to me, and history unfolds on a literal map in my brain. I could give you turn-by-turn directions to the French Revolution. It's weird in here.

One of the ways my synesthesia manifests is that months have color palettes. Some of them are what you'd expect--February, for example, is red and pink. Some are unique to me, like October, which is metallic gold and dark charcoal gray, like charred edges on a Klimt painting. I like to play with those colors during their months, usually in things like my nail polish colors. Thus, my quilt project would use my monthly palettes to create quilts that would keep my synesthesia brain happy.

This is my original summer quilt. It's called Victory Garden. (The quilts have titles. They're art. Shaddup.)

I used to love this quilt. I read under it. I spread it over my bed. It made my brain happy because July, to it, is these colors. I haven't thought of myself as especially patriotic since I left the cult, but my brain likes the colors it likes, and I mashed up two different fabric collections to make sure I got my color palette without having to include military insignias or quotes from slaveholders or anything like that. Mostly I wanted florals. Hence the title.

But after the election, looking at the quilt didn't make me happy anymore. It made me feel ill. I shoved it into a closet where I wouldn't have to see it and got on with staying alive.

Recently, my mom asked to borrow Victory Garden so she could refer to its pattern for a quilt we're making together. I think I'll "forget" it in her sewing room for a while. It still brings her joy, and it deserves to be loved even if I'm currently not capable.

But that means I'm out 25% of my seasonal quilts. That doesn't feel great, either. That's a lot of work, gone.

I got to thinking about summer, about the things I like about it. I decided that if I couldn't make a good summer quilt out of the June or August palettes (they're not very quilt-friendly), I'd try to find another inspiration. And on a whim, I started searching the names of summer fruits on a quilting website and found a collection called Blueberry Delight. Just looking at it made me remember making blueberry cobbler with my grandmother as a child, eating it hot with ice cream on top.

So tonight, I started putting squares together. This is the new palette of summer, assembled in the heart of winter. Blueberry Delight.

It'll take a while to put it together. Making something good to replace something bad always takes more time than you expect. It's work I didn't want to do, shouldn't have to do just because a bunch of fascist shitheads made a mess. But it'll get done eventually. I'll have something better someday.

And isn't the new thing beautiful?

[stxrsniolo]

๑ ˓˓ crash and burn ㅤ࣭ㅤ ★

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 notes : dear reader, this story will unfold over approximately 15 chapters, all of which have been meticulously outlined by yours truly (aka me, yes). it’s a slow burn between the characters, filled with a little bit of everything—from scenes not suitable for sensitive audiences to purely comedic moments, and even the classic teenage drama you’d expect from characters navigating this stage of life.

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 pairing : exchange student!reader x hockey player!matt

Chapter 10: under the stars

the school cafeteria was a madhouse, trays clattering like a drumline, the air thick with the smell of reheated pizza.

matt, his hockey jersey peeking out from under his jacket, made his way over to y/n's table, his blue eyes a mix of steel and softness. "y/n," he said, his boston accent rolling off his tongue like home, "how about a real date tonight?"

her face lit up, caught between shock and happiness. "a real date? with you, me, and all that romantic stuff like in your typical american movies?"

matt let out a laugh, a sound that felt like coming home in the middle of this circus. "yeah, with you, me, and all that lovey-dovey bullshit. i'll pick you up at six."

and there he was, right on time, his car parked in front of the millers' place.

y/n stepped out, her cherry-red hair popping against the evening sky, wearing an outfit that was all comfort with a side of seduction.

they drove off, the car filled with soft music, their conversation light, laced with teasing and giggles. "so, where are we going, mr. hockey star?" she asked, her hand resting on his thigh, sending a little shock through him.

"it's a surprise, but i think you'll dig it," he replied, his hand covering hers for a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze.

they ended up at this adorable outdoor ice rink, fairy lights twinkling, turning the ice into a starlit dance floor. "ready to see what you've got on the ice, huh?" y/n teased.

"only if you're ready to learn from the master," matt shot back with a smirk, helping her into her skates, his hands lingering on her ankles, up her calves, making her shiver.

on the ice, matt was right behind her, his arms around her waist, guiding her. "just feel the beat," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, sending goosebumps down her spine.

they glided, y/n stumbling now and then, but matt was always there to catch her, their laughter filling the cold air. "you're doing awesome," he said, spinning her gently, her back against his chest, their bodies moving as one as he kissed her neck, a kiss that sent her heart racing, making her forget the chill of the ice in the warmth of their closeness.

after the rink, they hit up a food truck park, the air crisp with the promise of fall, the smells of food tempting them. they wandered, grabbing tacos from one truck, crepes from another, collecting their feast before heading back to matt's car.

they drove to this secluded overlook, the city lights just a distant blur, the stars their only company, spreading a blanket in the car's trunk, food scattered around, the night air cool but their bodies warm with anticipation.

as they ate, the conversation turned real. matt, looking up at the stars, spoke first, his voice a blend of vulnerability and boston twang. "you know, sometimes i feel like i'm not enough... like, i'm just the middle brother, never the best at anything."

y/n listened, her eyes soft with empathy. "i get that. moving here, i feel like i'm trying to fit into a puzzle where i'm the wrong piece, like, i'm too different, too loud, too argentinian."

matt took her hand, his touch comforting. "you're perfect, just the way you are, but i get it; the pressure from my brothers, the team... i'm always trying to prove something."

"exactly," y/n said, her voice quiet, the night air carrying her words. "and then there's this fear, you know? that if i let someone in, really let them in, they'll see i'm not what they thought. that they'll leave."

matt turned to her, his gaze intense. "i'm not going anywhere, y/n. i want you to know that, but i feel you; it's scary to give someone your heart."

she nodded, her fears laid bare under the starlight. "and with you, there's this other fear. i'm not confident in my body, in how i look, how i perform. i've been scared that if we... if we go there, you'll get what you want, and then i'll lose you."

matt cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "y/n, that's not gonna happen. i want to be with you, not just for sex. i want to prove it to you, tonight if you'll let me."

the air was electric with truth, with the promise of something more. y/n looked into his eyes, seeing the honesty there, and nodded, her heart making the call for her.

the food was forgotten as their kisses grew more urgent, the stars watching their dance.

their mouths met with a hunger that went beyond the meal they'd shared. matt's hands roamed, slipping under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin, the weight of her breasts in his palms, his thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened, making y/n's breath catch, her own hands exploring, tracing the hard lines of his body.

he pulled her shirt off, then her bra, his gaze adoring as he kissed her breasts, licking, sucking, each touch sending waves through her. she moaned, her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, her body arching towards him.

matt's hands moved to her jeans, unbuttoning them with practiced ease, sliding them off with her underwear, leaving her bare to the night air, to his hungry gaze.

y/n watched as matt stripped down, the sight of him hard and ready making her pulse race.

he kissed his way down her body, his tongue dipping into her navel before moving lower, parting her legs.

his tongue found her clit, circling, teasing, tasting her, her moans filling the car, blending with the night's silence. he ate her out with a slow, deliberate pace, each stroke of his tongue driving her closer to the edge, her hips moving against his mouth.

"please, matt," she gasped, her voice a mix of plea and desire, pulling him up to kiss her, tasting herself on his lips.

he positioned himself, the head of his cock brushing against her, teasing her entrance. "you sure?" he asked, his voice thick with need, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt.

"yes," she breathed out, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. he entered her slowly, the sensation overwhelming, their bodies fitting together like they were made for this moment.

matt began to move, each thrust deep, deliberate, filling her completely, the rhythm building, their breaths syncing in the quiet night.

the car rocked gently with their movements, their bodies slick with sweat despite the cool air. y/n felt every inch of him, the pressure building, the connection deepening with each thrust. matt whispered praises against her skin, how beautiful she was, how perfect she felt, each word healing her insecurities.

their climax was a shared explosion, a crescendo of gasps and moans, their bodies shuddering together, the stars above them silent witnesses to their union.

they stayed like that, matt still inside her, their hearts beating as one, the afterglow wrapping them in warmth.

after, they lay together, wrapped in a blanket, the stars overhead like silent keepers of their bond; matt's arm around her, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on her back, each touch a silent promise of his presence, his love.

y/n felt a profound peace, a sense of being exactly where she belonged. with a playful smile, she grabbed her phone, snapping a picture of them, her head on his chest, his arm around her, their eyes locked on the camera with a mix of love and mischief.

the image was spicy, a hint of what had happened, but it was their declaration to the world as she posted it.

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my murder of crows: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

[confusionism]

“Is that the kinda ‘strong’ you wanna be? Ready to whoop ass the next time an Angel swings her wings at you?” Even without the training, he’d be Team Anna through and through. “I can do that.” Exercise comes down to simple science, and where his cooking hits its limitations, the access to top-tier private chefs can fill in. The sweets part is a different matter. If there’s one thing that he’s learned about discipline, it’s about identifying the way that it fits into an individual’s capacities and preferences. “Lotta options we can look at, to still incorporate sweets into your training regimen in a way that doesn’t make you feel deprived. Like— you know. Substitutions that don’t feel like them.”

He knows that’s not the most promising way to describe it, but he promises he’s got some ideas running around in there. Forgive him for focusing on the steps toward the flat. He takes them like he does whenever he’s alone, two at a time and with easy swiftness. Once he’s back in the safety of their entryway, he closes the door and tells her,

“It’s ‘Christopher,’ by the way.” Aiden Christopher Fitzgerald. There are very few things that he knows about his mother, but among those is her veneration of the Cross. The name and its significance— these are both details that he’s always kept to himself, in the same way that children carry memories that growing up overshadows, and how adults cling to details that life whittles away. Precious. Even now, sharing a tidbit that he's kept from all, including his employers.

"I know you'd never push me anywhere." Except for that one time when he refused to sleep, too busy stressing over player and scouting reports. But it doesn't count when Anna's only pushing him toward what his body needs— and it definitely doesn't count when she's pulling him toward the next discovery. "I'm fine with that," he nods back, putting away the last of their clothing. "—But A," he raises the phone back to that 'serious business' angle. "Promise me you won't do anything just for my sake? Take the job 'cause you want to take it." He doesn't think it's a big issue these days, but just in case. "They can't twist my arm about everything."

Tonight's party is one case of successful twisting. Compared to a couple hours earlier, however, he's feeling more optimistic.

"You got an ETA for their arrival? I'll forward you this month's guest code, in case they gotta park." He's not expecting an entire party bus full of glam, but... Well, maybe. If there's one thing he's starting to learn from the stream of boxes beginning to fill the guest room, you can never be too sure with Anna Ricci. "Can I..." He suddenly feels shy about asking. His voice softens some. "I don't wanna bother you too much about all of this, but is it all right if I still text?" And then he considers, "Can I have a safe word?" Just in case.

"For starters, keeping me off most things sweet." Which is easier said than done, with her perpetual sweet tooth. All well and good at first. But before long, she's bouncing off the walls, and suffering a sugar crash in the middle of a show. No, this will not be a repeat of the 'napping Anna' memes of 2023.

"Getting me strong? Maybe with one of those Chelsea punching bags?" Double her size and meant for men of the same stature, but whatever, Anna's determined. And anyway; "I trust you. You know what's best." Not just because of his results - the athletes on his team, primed to be the best. But because no one takes care of Anna the way Aiden does. An attentiveness that still makes her warm and comforted, like the sleepy peppermint tea the stewardess gives her.

She watches the colors shift on screen, with Aiden coming out the other end clear as day. But it's his words that have her honed in, a delayed nod in understanding. Everything with him is different, especially this - Aiden holds her up without using her as his trophy. A prize to be had, an accessory for his reputation.

"I know you wouldn't." Anna only ever thinks the best of him, despite the scars of relationship past. "And I don't want to push you into the limelight either." There's an amount they've accepted, to be together. But adding fuel to fire? That's different. "How about we decide together? Like, this Chelsea thing. I can do it myself." It's an easy decision, despite the conversation. She's already a model under their contract, and Anna knows it makes sense. Business or otherwise.

"It's true," she says with a confident sip of her drink. "I am everywhere in your life." On purpose, really, as her things begin to multiply in the corners of his home. "Just like I don't need socials to keep up with you." Mostly, because Aiden just tells her anything she needs to know in the first place. With a tease, she adds; "Or to see your passport to know your full name." Like she didn't find that out from the Chelsea file room, that one time she was left unsupervised. Anna disgresses --

"Tony's idea. I spilled vodka on it once. We were stranded in Budapest." In the dead of winter, no less. "No dangers of that, though. I'm on my way home in--" Christ, another twelve hours. "Will you be alright to let Petra and the team in? They're starting the oh-so-subtle light dimming in my cabin." A cue for Anna to put it away and try to sleep. Though, chances are she'll watch Rom Coms and fret over her phone for any Aiden messages.

[cellephane]

The words I long for are visceral in their rawness, decisive in who they are. Yet that is not remotely who I am; I think this discrepancy (of who I want to be and who I innately am) is what makes it so hard to write things I feel proud of.

When I want to be bold and unapologetic, I am tentative and constantly looking over my shoulder. I don’t have the confidence to stand on my own two feet without fear of tipping over, let alone speak words that wield any sort of power.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

enjoltaire this enjoltaire that shut up. that is exr or nothing, fools

[cozylittleartblog]

worth noting i think per that last ask you answered: we would not have met if i hadn't seen your susie x sammy art ages ago and went HOLY SHIT YES SOMEONE GETS ME!!! so. do with that what you will

... GOD. YOU'RE RIGHT. QUEENKAARD WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME I LOOKED AT CHARACTERS, ASKED "IS ANYBODY GONNA SHIP THIS" AND NOT WAIT FOR AN ANSWER. and i'll fuckin do it again

i have made all my closest friends by screaming about rarepairs and i think that's beautiful. the bonds forged by rarepairs are unbreakable

[words-writ-in-starlight]

You could say that I have strong feelings about this ongoing debate

[quaranmine]

me: i'm super tired what if i go to bed early

my brain: what if you, after attempting to go to sleep, instead sit up in bed again, grab your laptop, and write 2000 words of jimmy having watcher religious trauma

[neiptune]

gojo would proceed to sing I'm just ken at the top of his lungs every single day for at least a week after seeing barbie

[fratboykate]

Papi, are you alive? Thunderbolts trailer leaked and we got Hailee back from the dead (and there's the movie with Andrew and Florence and its KYAU coded as fuck) Kate and Yelena content galor this week. PLEASE COME BACK. We've been deprived for a year. It's been jail for too long. Grace us with Kate x Yelena content again. Pretty please.

*taps mic* Is this thing on?