#guys he’s getting .75 to every dollar anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosaetae · 4 years ago

Text

no sweetness

☇ “It’s funny because you remind me exactly of this drink I made last night. Yeah, yeah, it was the black tea with boba. Bitter, with tiny balls.”

➣ pairing: reader x jungkook

➣ genre: fluff, comedy, bobarista!reader, lacrosseplayer!jungkook, e2l!au

➣ word count: 23k (of pure disgusting e2l fluff)

➣ warning!: slight implicit smut

➣ a/n: header title credit to the loveliest @yehdayums !!! a sweetheart for making this cute header hehe <3 also support small businesses!

➣ summary: jungkook has a thing for pretty girls who work with tiny balls, especially the new fiery bobarista at his favorite boba shop, whom he finds absolutely adorable, but finds out later that she’s just as sweet as she made his milk tea order— not sweet.

Jeon Jungkook is absolutely whipped as cream.

Why, you may ask?

His favorite boba shop at the very edge of the outskirt of town hired a new bobarista, and her name—supposedly— being ___. Jungkook made it a mental note to ask for it when he goes into Pleasantea with his friends, but word goes around and it out of the many words there are in the world, it's her name that catches his ear.

It is no doubt that Jeon Jungkook comes off as a flirt to every living species he encounters, but seeing that the new bobarista wasn't as happily taking it in as most people would, he was shocked that someone didn't have much interest into him. Sure, call him egotistical, but he was captain of the lacrosse team and he was pretty damn good at almost— well, everything.

The first time he goes into Pleasantea after hearing the news of a new duckling in training was after another win that Friday night. He's there with his group of friends, raiding the popular boba place with cheers while greeting the familiar workers behind the bar.

On Friday nights, it's Luna, Dahlia, and Jihyo working the closing shift, making the drinks and providing impeccable service, especially to the rowdy group of college students that come in almost every Friday to hangout or just to celebrate. Luna's pretty good with taming them down, especially when other customers are there. Dahlia likes to yell at them— she likes to yell at people in general. And Jihyo nurtures them like babies.

They've gotten close to Jungkook as Luna happened to be in his communications class first semester. He recognized her first, but Luna, being oblivious in all ranges of settings, faked a recognization of his name and face, and gave him a discount anyways. Because of this tiny occurrence, Jungkook came back, then with friends, and eventually with his whole lacrosse team to support the business.

"I'm guessing another win, Team Captain?" Jihyo rhetorically yelled over the cheering voices towards Jungkook who followed behind the group with a smirk. Her doe eyes peeks over the bar where her height was significant from the taller men on the other side, eyebrows raised and awaiting for the cocky response Jungkook can muster.

"What can I say?" Jungkook laughed sonorously, followed by a few encouraging and prideful pats on the shoulder from his teammates. "Wouldn't show up tonight with the boys if I didn't make that winning shot."

Rolling her eyes at the sound of the booming, testosterone-filled voices of his teammates and his vibrant ego, Jihyo scoffed away to work on other orders that Luna and Dahlia were speedily making before Jungkook's teammates and good friends come up to him, ready to order their drinks.

"What should I get?" Yoongi asked Jungkook, eyes scanning the menu of different drinks.

"Dunno. Get the usual," Jungkook advised, crossing his arms over his chest as he pondered what he should get too. "Your matcha milk tea with boba."

"Aight," Yoongi nods before he paused. The pause wasn't obvious enough for Jungkook to look his way, until Yoongi went ahead and nudged Jungkook, taking his complete attention away from the menu. "New worker."

"Hi, welcome!" That odd cheery voice didn't seem to come from the usual cashier he knew as Luna, nor Dahlia, throwing him off a bit. He does a double take behind the counter, finding a girl hurriedly filling a cup up with boba before she's running to the cashier, doe-like eyes widening in surprise at how many people she has to take orders of.

Her eyes catch Jungkook's, and it immediately clicked in his head that the word circling about the new Pleasantea worker were true. Pretty much all of them were aware, but it didn't seem to catch their attention as much as it caught his. Maybe it's the unfamiliarity of having someone foreign in a place he likes to call a second home. Maybe it's the odd satisfaction of meeting the so-called bobarista who's name somehow runs laps around his brain. Really, he was merely curious.

"What can I get you guys?" She asked with a warm smile. Jungkook's worked at a retail shop before, and he can tell good customer service apart from just a single sentence.

Jungkook peered over at the boys, watching Yoongi motioning at the others to go order, but seeing that they were also too busy eye-goggling the new girl behind the counter out of curiosity, Yoongi let out a sigh and ordered first. A smile bursted on the new girl's face when she's nodding to Yoongi's order. Her eyebrows furrowed as she works the register all before Yoongi whipped out his trusty credit card and does the procedural routine of inserting the card, tipping, signing, and saying "no thanks" to the receipt, dropping in a spare dollar or two into their "college funds" tip jar.

The boys filed in line after they've decided on what they wanted that night all while Jungkook started to overthink what he wanted to get.

Jungkook likes to change up his drink from time to time. After practices, he'd like something more refreshing to quickly chug down. After later practices, he'd get something more caffeinated to keep him awake for a night full of assignments. After games, it depends on the outcome of the prior— losing, he wouldn't order anything. Winning, however, he likes Pleasantea bobaristas to choose for him.

It's a good thing they won tonight.

When the line of his teammates dispersed and they all maneuvered into the back where their usual spot was, Jungkook realized it was his turn already. He didn't notice that he let all the boys go in front of him on purpose and he was the last of the group to order. However, he does take mental note of how New Girl keeps up a good face after each customer, something that Dahlia lacks because each customer removes a layer of her niceness as they come and go.

Jungkook slides closer to the register, his eyes never leaving hers as her own form into crescents— a silent, but welcoming greeting.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

His lips forms a smile to hear her voice clear as day. "Do you think you can surprise me?"

The favor evidently takes her by surprise before she lets out a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, I can. Is there anything you're craving specifically?"

"Nope," he shakes his head. "You new?"

She smiles in return. "Yeah. Yesterday was my first day. Still getting a hang of it."

"You got a favorite drink..." Jungkook dragged out his sentence to look at her name badge, realizing that her name really was what he has been told. "___?"

The bobarista hums in thought before she lazily shrugs. "I haven't had many drinks, yet, but I really like the plain milk tea."

"I'll just get that then. Large, boba, light ice."

She nods as she puts it into the register as Jungkook patted his black jeans, searching his pockets for his wallet. In his head, he's pondering about the amount of tips to tip her.

"Sweetness level?"

Jungkook, without even processing he's said it, goes, "you." It takes him by surprise just as much as it took her, but he decides to roll with it. He even mentally pats himself, because damn, that was pretty smooth of him. He noticed that her fingers paused in tapping on the pad, just before meeting his expression consisting of a (douchebag) smirk and kind eyes. She raised her eyebrows before letting out a light chuckle, shaking her head.

"Cute," is all she said before placing the order and directing him to insert his card. As Jungkook mentally fist bumps himself, he decided to tip her the ten dollar bill laying in his wallet into the tip jar, before she glanced up at him with crescent eyes once more. "Your order will be ready at the other end of the counter."

As Jungkook thanked her, he lingered for a bit as she disappeared behind the bar where she met the three other girls shuffling around to finish the end of the night shift with dozens of customers waiting inside and outside. He shoved his wallet into the back of his pocket as he met up with the boys who took up the entire back of the shop where a long table basically welcomed them with open arms.

"What you get this time, Captain?" Jaehyun made a single nod towards Jungkook.

"Just their milk tea," Jungkook responded.

Jungkook has had the plain milk tea before. It's what Pleasantea was known for. It's their signature drink. A roasted flavor with just the right amount of sweetness with just 75% sugar. However, responding with reference to her as a sweetness, it might be a bit sweeter with just 100%. But it doesn't matter. He managed to get a "cute" from the new bobarista at Pleasantea and he intends to share it with his lacrosse team.

"New worker called me cute."

Jaehyun let out a snort, while Yoongi excitedly leaned in to add onto the list of other cringe-worthy pickup lines Jungkook says to girls. "Did you make another boba pick-up line? Remember when you tried to flirt with Dahlia but ended up only getting roasted by her?"

"Yeah, well, ___ called me cute. She just asked how sweet I wanted my drink to be," he explained. "I answered back with, 'you'."

It's the shove and nudge coming from both directions and the bursted balloon that held crazy laughter coming from not only Jaehyun, but Yoongi and Jaemin who listened to the terrible conversation they were most grateful to not have witnessed first hand. Jungkook grinned widely, pushing off his teammates who were disgusted by such a revolting experience.

"God, you are terrible," Yoongi covered his face with his hands, hiding from sheer embarrassment as Jungkook chuckled broadly. "I hope she spits in your drink because that was god awful."

"She thought it was cute, actually," Jungkook tooted his own horn— something he loved doing. Cocky isn't a pleasant trait on him, but he somehow makes it work.

Jaemin shook his head in mild distaste. "Man, get the fuck out of here."

"Boys!"

The familiar sound of Jihyo calling out a broad name as an endearment to the only boys that she has a love and hate relationship with catches the lacrosse teams' ears, having them get up in excitement. Half of the table decides to go while the other half stays and saves the spot, wanting to spend about half an hour there to settle.

It takes them a minute or two to have all of them come back with max two drinks in hand and while half of the boys passed out the variety of drinks to the others who saved their spot, Jungkook scrolls through his phone as Jaemin places his drink in front of him, a straw on top. Like second nature, Jungkook grabs the straw and stabs the plastic wrap, his jaw preparing to chew the sweet goodness of tapioca pearls.

However, it's not that that he was anticipating prior that made him furrow his eyebrows at the taste. It was the odd flavor that came before the pearls that made him retract the drink from his mouth to look at the label of what type of drink he got.

At first, he furrowed his eyebrows because he thought he had received the wrong drink. But it's in the middle of wanting to ask Jaemin if the drink he got actually belong to him, that he realized where he fucked up. Jaemin was curious as well, arching an eyebrow and turning the cup to its side to see if Jaemin actually grabbed the wrong drink.

It's the hysterical laughter coming from Jaemin's mouth ringing in the air that made Jungkook's lips part, but in all honestly, Jungkook wasn't as surprised. He watches his teammate share the cup around, laughter suddenly becoming louder at what has been witnessed— a rise and downfall of their own team captain.

The mocking sniggering that dispersed into air echoed throughout the boba shop's walls and inevitably, the new bobarista girl must be hearing it crystal clear, probably a playful smile on her lips as she heard the laughter grow at her own doing.

Eventually, Jungkook snatched the drink back and chugs it down anyways, shaking his head. Each time he took a sip, he looks at the side of his cup and wrinkles his nose in disdain.

MLK TEA. LESS ICE. 0% SWEET.

two days later.

The unfamiliarity of the road just near the outskirt of the town heading towards your new part-time job grows familiar each shift you are scheduled to work. The swerve and crooks of the road, the uneven pavements, the tiny dip as you enter the plaza— your mind becomes used to it, no longer using your GPS to know your way around the roads.

You arrive to your shift about a minute late, hurrying out of your car into the shop where Dahlia only greets you with a welcoming smile behind the bar. You take the marble colored hair clip you had in hand and clip your damp hair no thanks to your last minute morning shower you had to take after skipping your nightly routine. In theory, you had to blame the overwhelming paperwork you just had to wait last minute on for your lack of sleep and lack of hygiene.

"Hi, sorry, I'm late," you apologize, clocking in. Dahlia waves you off, passing by you into the back room where the sink was running. As you met her gaze, her lips portray a warm smile.

"You're all good. Sunny went to Orange Valley, so it's just you and me for awhile."

"Orange Valley?" You raise an eyebrow. "Why did she go to Orange Valley?"

"To restock. That's where our supplier of lavender and fresh fruits are. She usually has me or Jihyo pick it up, but thank god she had me just watch over you," Dahlia explains, turning the faucet off and pouring what you assumed was freshly rinsed boba in a large strainer into a bin of sugary water. "How was your morning? Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Nope, not at all," you respond, washing your hands in the sink just behind the bar.

"I can tell," Dahlia laughs, her voice more apparent as she appears from the back, two hands carefully holding the boba bin of where tiny black spheres float in sweet water that is only about to get sweeter once Dahlia pours the honey in. "Load up on some of the coffee and you'll be fully recharged."

"What type of coffee do you suggest?"

Dahlia pauses, looks up excitingly, and says from the top of her head, "Cold brew. Two pumps of the white chocolate, shake it, and add oat milk. That's my go-to for my 8 am's."

Wrinkling your nose, you go ahead and grab one of the metal shakers and take it apart in front of you, grabbing the ounce cap and the bottle for the white chocolate syrup. "You take 8 am's?"

"I like to get out early. Like 11 am early so that I can sleep for lunch," she says as she stirs the boba in continuous loops. "Plus, I can fit more shifts into my schedule."

"You're so brave," you sarcastically state, filling the cap with the syrup twice and pouring it into the shaker.

You'd like to say you're getting the hang of it. It's only been your third shift, but the register has been pretty good to you in terms of taking people's orders. The drinks were slowly getting there, but at least you can make the flavored teas without freezing and having to look at the ratios placed on the fridge. That only occurs with the more complicated drinks. Even then, you'd rather ask Dahlia or Luna or Jihyo for help.

Dahlia asks you if you had any questions or any difficulty with memorizing. And while you honestly tell her that some drinks are hard to remember, she agrees wholeheartedly and encourages that you'll eventually get it. She also throws in with her encouragement while in preparation of the shop opening that she has some sort of quizlet for the drinks and that she'll send it to you to help you memorize.

As you thank her, you decide to make that cold brew drink she recommended, repeating her instructions in your head like a mantra. Dahlia curves around the bar to flip the sign to open as well as bringing out a stand that promotes a a buy three get one free drink deal just a few feet away from the door.

She comes back in and checks up on your drink that you were currently just shaking together, only then that the particular movement of the glass door swinging open captures your attention from the coffee machine, your mind immediately registering that a new customer has entered the shop, causing you to pause on your current doings. Sauntering over to the register of where the point of sale system sits, you immediately make eye contact with the customer.

And once that you realize that that customer just happens to be Jeon Jungkook, the dumbass that thought you were worth a coy, yet terribly executed coquetry dripping from his mouth, you internally groan.

He makes the same eye contact with you, eyebrows shooting up as if he didn't expect to see you, especially after the 'first' encounter with each other that one night, working. You hope that he saw the way your face falls into sheer distaste while he makes it plan to order because as he opens his mouth, you immediately halt him in his tracks, putting a finger up and shaking your head.

"Give me one second."

Without a second glance thrown into his direction again, you take the time to run behind the counter, unseen, tapping Dahlia's arm, tutting your tongue and nodding towards the register in which Dahlia could only laugh to herself at how easy it was for you to do that. She drops the shaker she was making of the mango black tea for the customer waiting by the bar and silently motions you to take over, in which you pleasantly do so, so long as you don't ever get to interact with Jungkook.

Trust, it isn't the confrontation of that night where you made his drink revoltingly plain, but it is more of the initiation of cutting any type of contact attached to him, as that night of the winning lacrosse team isn't the 'first' encounter with him.

Jeon Jungkook is the acquiring taste of dark chocolate. Like the bitter yet sweet taste, you know of the infamous Jeon Jungkook from your own past experiences, having to have encountered him multiple times along the road of lengthy university years up until now. He's introduced himself to you multiple times, but guessing he was completely shit-faced drunk each occurrence, your name and face has probably went over his head as he wakes up with another name and face beside him in bed.

The first time was during your first year, a visit to a Kappa Sugma Ligma frat party where the face of second year Jeon Jungkook was pretty prominent. (And by that, he was shit faced drunk and kept insisting to dance with you. But as a prude first year, you stuck with babying your friends instead). The second time was at a more mellow kickback the summer prior to second year, introducing himself again right after getting kegged. He stole your friend away from your group to dance, but you didn't really notice that you've already met him until the tiny revelation hits one afternoon when that so- called friend announces that her and Jungkook are supposedly fuck buddies. The third time he's introduced himself to you again was when he was smashingly drunk. The other times were just as sublime, but this one was what kicked you off your rocker because not only did he end things with your friend who grew an emotional attachment, he managed to introduce himself to you by puking all over your new pants.

Jungkook is the exquisite taste of dark chocolate; while he may be known for his good looks and "long-stick shots" and his supposed 'kind' demeanor, a lot of people do happen to like him. However, you aren't those lot of people who enjoy the taste of dark chocolate, hence why he leaves a strong dreadful taste on your tongue.

There's a mild surprise sparking from Jungkook when he realizes that Dahlia takes over, but nevertheless he orders his drink of a passion fruit green tea with light sugar and light ice. And with his whole chest, he loudly enough goes, just for you to hear behind the bar, "Can you tell her to actually add sugar this time?"

And a light scoff at his indirect, you roll your eyes as you pour the previous drink into the large cup with boba for the other customer, a response coming out of your mouth channeling the same energy as his.

"Don't worry, I will."

It's not long until you've rejuvenated through the suggested cold brew drink and began washing dishes that Dahlia comes in with a devious laugh escaping her throat. She leans against one of the fridges of where the basic teas of ranged from black to green sat in, her head shaking as she marvels at you with glimmering eyes. You raise an eyebrow at her in curiosity, confused as to why she was giggling.

"How many ounces of syrup do you put in the flavored teas?"

Her laughter kind of dies down, but she bites her lip to suppress another giggle making its way up. Drying your hands with the green dry rag hanging to the side of the sink, you turn your body to face her and answer swiftly, "3 for larges, 2 for regulars."

And then her smile grows to the point where it reaches her eyes. "And how many ounces of passion fruit did you put in Jungkook's tea?"

The question takes you back in time just about 10 minutes ago when you finished making Jungkook's desired passion fruit green tea with light sugar and light ice, only after he decided to throw in with such ambition to "actually add sugar this time". You debate on telling Dahlia the truth, only because you haven't worked with her for awhile to trust her just yet, but seeing how she was very amused as she asked the question, you shrug.

"Why?"

Dahlia giggles once more. "Jungkook complained about it and asked me to make him a new one." You roll your lips inward, stifling a laugh. "It's okay, you can tell me. I won't snitch. Seeing him ticked off was pretty funny."

And that was enough for you to trust your sweet co-worker. "Six. And a half."

It's then that she bursts all of her laughter out, both of you basking in light laughter about your own doing. "Brilliant."

"Why, he didn't like it? I added sugar."

The light laughs coming from her mouth ultimately leads into tears as she wipes under her eyes. Shaking her head, she points a finger at you. "You are terrible. Absolutely terrible. First the milk tea— which was a pretty genius comeback— and now the passion fruit? Gold."

To that, you shrug. "Thanks. Sorry you had to remake his drink, though."

"Girl, you're fine. To see him all annoyed about it was worth it," she smirks. "Are you guys like... I don't know... archenemies? Frenemies?"

"I'm not exactly fond of him," you answer truthfully. "I'm guessing he's never met me before— or at least, he doesn't remember we've met before, but I've met him plenty of times. One of which is when he puked all over my new lilac pants."

Dahlia's mouth flies open, a hand slapped over her mouth in complete shock at what she was hearing. Maybe you are tampering with the impression of a well adored guy that everyone at Pleasantea (hell, the whole town) seems to love, but hell, Jungkook was not handmade by the gods to be loved by everyone.

"Jungkook puked on you?"

You nod your head in response. "Third time in meeting him and each impression does not progressively get better."

"Now I see why you put no sugar in his milk tea the other night," Dahlia laughs. "Jihyo was a little mad at the move, but she admits his flirting tactic was dreadful."

"I'm sure he's tried flirting with you guys? I'm not the only one who experiences it?"

"Oh yeah," Dahlia nods, letting out an amused puff of air. "Flirted with Luna first because they were in the same class. She's never interacted with him in school, so once he found out she worked here, he suddenly became all flirty, but you know Luna, she's blunt and she told him that she has a girlfriend."

You nod, staying quiet as Dahlia goes on to continue. "Then it was Jihyo, once he started bringing all of the lacrosse team here. But Jihyo's like... basically engaged. Promise ring and everything. Then it was Ryujin, but Jungkook realized he made her uncomfortable." To that, I snort. "Then me, but personally, I've been eyeing Yoongi and he backed off when he found that out. So yeah, he's a very flirty man with a taste in boba girls. It's your turn now!"

"Does he have some sort of boba fetish? Does he need help?"

"Probably," Dahlia shrugs, smiling amusedly. "But you're not exactly helping him with that."

You let out a chuckle. "Well, it's a no from me."

"Figured as much," she nods in agreement. "He's nice when he's not trying to get your number."

"You mean when his ego isn't eating him up and he suddenly thinks that every girl is going to fall for him at first sight?"

Dahlia rolls her lips inwards before nodding once more. "Precisely. But hey, hella tips."

Jungkook comes in again while you're working a week later, but this time with his friends, Yoongi and Jaehyun following after him, strutting inside the minimalistic shop with what you assumed to be their practice attire just by the sweat and glow on their facial structures caused by the aftermath of exercise.

You're guessing that Jungkook's been avoiding you, and he has been pretty good with it if you can recall that the last time you've seen him in the shop was a week prior. When Jungkook peers up from his phone after you greet the group a, "hello, welcome" loudly and scurry behind the register to take their order, he couldn't help but to groan obnoxiously.

"Great," he mutters in hopes that only his friends would hear, but due to the lack of distance and your exceptional hearing, your eyebrows shot up.

"Woah," you put your hands up in mock defense. "No need to get all irked. I won't tamper with your drink again."

"Right. Annoying brat," Jungkook mutters to himself half-heartedly as you smirk. As his eyes look up to the menu to give it a few sweeps despite how often he comes here, you think about how much he dreads having you work here and to be taking his order, and while it's not exactly the best customer service, it was very amusing.

"Just don't mess up while ordering, and we'll see what happens," you tell him bluntly. His eyes glued onto the menu above you flickers down to meet yours, a false vendetta of your eyes disappearing into crescents as his your lips turn upwards to greet him, his head shaking in response. Audibly, his friends snicker behind him.

"Go, Jungkook. Tell her that you want your milk tea as sweet as her again."

"Or that you'd want your drink to actually have sugar in it."

The taunts eliciting out of his own friends' mouth set Jungkook into straight annoyance, his eyes snapping behind them to throw presumable death glares at them over his shoulder while you patiently wait for him to hit you with a brand new drink that you can practice on making under 30 seconds thanks to your competitive mindset.

The teases make you chuckle as you shake your head. You notice Jaehyun take a step forward to rest his hands on the tense Jungkook, attempting to give him a friendly pat before Jungkook nudges him off.

"Fuck off," Jungkook scoffs, Jaehyun cackling beside him in response before he turns his direction towards you and gives a single acknowledging head nod.

"How's a going, Shortstack?" Jaehyun asks, pulling out his wallet beside Jungkook whose eyes are roaming the menu up and down, top to bottom.

"Doin' alright, Jaehyun," you smile, politely. "How's anatomy for ya?"

Jaehyun lets out a sarcastic, nervous laugh— one that takes the attention of Jungkook and you're unsure if it's because of his own friends' laughter or because he is surprised to know that you and Jaehyun know each other from your guys' microbiology lab class last semester. "Kicking my ass, but I've been using your notes as guidance. Hey, thanks for those by the way."

"No worries. Hopefully that'll do some work and help you pass," you encouragingly say, a smile on your face as he gives a single thumbs up. You know Jaehyung as the sarcastic ass when he fucked around in microbiology and always picked fights with your lab professor. But even then, he was nice to you, other than the fact that he made fun of your height. "Decided on what you want?"

"Yeah, can I get that lavender milk tea? Extra boba, please."

"Got it. Regular ice and sugar?"

"Yes and yes," he nods, pulling out his wallet. Once he finishes the transaction and Ryujin, your other coworker whom you barely work with, comes out from the back to start on the drinks, Yoongi steps up as you take a glance at the wandering-eyed Jungkook.

Facing your attention back to Yoongi, he carefully orders an iced green tea with light sugar and regular ice, emphasizing that he wants no toppings with that order as he wants something to chug down. From his energy, you take that he's very easy-going, not someone hard to talk to by how aware he was when he sounded annoying emphasizing that he didn't want any boba in his drink that he apologized. He drops in a two dollar tip into the box and as you thank him, he gives an easy smile.

As it was Jungkook's turn, he lets out a long "um" before dragging his eyes down to you from the menu. His friends wander to their usual spot in the back, leaving Jungkook behind to finish up with his order that he seemed to be taking centuries making up his mind with. He quirks his lip a bit as you stare expectingly. "Swear you won't mess with the drink?"

"Not the one making it," you point towards Ryujin behind you before smirking. "None of that flirty business and you'll get your drink in perfect condition."

This time, Jungkook laughs, and it's warm. It's like a light scoff, but there was something velvet about the way it rolled out of his throat, followed by a shake of his head. "Was it that bad?"

"Pretty bad," you agree, honestly. "If you wanted my number, you could have asked."

"Really?"

"Not that I'd actually give you my number," you warn, teasingly. He lets out another laugh and this time it was more audible and clear. Something that makes you want to hear again. "But, tacky pick-up lines don't really tickle my peach."

"Then what does?"

Jungkook holds your gaze for a moment, expecting an answer that could help him in the near future. Maybe if the register wasn't the only thing separating you two, it would be mistaken for an intimate moment, but because you know your place as the bobarista talking to a customer and this is strictly a professional environment, you decide to go with, "Ordering your drink. Have you figured out what you'd like?"

It takes a second for him to realize his standing point as well, shaking his head as he realizes your answer, one that he is impressed by because not only did you not cower away with an awkward response, you weren't that easy to give him what he wanted. The response you gave him was nothing short of clever, and he realizes that each encounter with you reinforces his idea of you that is solely based off of the sly, clever, and beautiful boba worker of Pleasantea.

"I'll have the regular guava green tea. Light ice, light sugar," he says, his hand digging into his back pocket, fishing for his wallet.

As he slides his card and finishes up everything with his transaction swiftly, you go and hurry over to Ryujin who has finished all the other drinks of Yoongi and Jaehyun's, expectantly looking at you to finish Jungkook's drink.

Ryujin quirks her lips as she leans back against the ice dispenser, nodding in confirmation as I point at the receipt of Jungkook's order staring flatly at you. "It's your boyfriend's drink. You should make it."

"Not my boyfriend," you tell her as her lips twitch up more. Taking the shakers and preparing to make his drink, you focus on pouring the syrup into the shaker before speaking up towards her. "Didn't he flirt with you too? He's yours, isn't he?"

Ryujin crinkles her nose, shaking her head vigorously in disgust that her hair bun shook on top of her head with her. You start chuckling to yourself at her reaction, the look on her face was filled with distaste, as if she associated Jungkook with a bad memory. "Nope, never. He's all yours, babycakes."

"Nuh-uh. I don't go for guys who have a fetish for boba workers."

"He just has great taste," Ryujin half-heartedly defends him with a wink, throwing an imaginary hair strand over her shoulder before taking a cap for the cups and popping it on to finish it. "Can't blame him. I mean, we're all pretty hot."

To that, you let out a snort, shaking your head. Ryujin takes the cup and calls out for Jungkook's name, the sound of the echoing shuffling of his footsteps fading in closer as he comes to the counter. Instinctively, you beat Ryujin to the dirty shakers used for the drink and go into the back to wash them, avoiding any more interaction with Jungkook for that day.

"Oh, so sorry to do this."

Jungkook wasn't really sorry, but he feigns innocence in his attitude a couple days later while you work an opening shift with your boss. It doesn't help that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, annoyed that you didn't wake up as early as you hoped to, and ended up being a couple of minutes late to your shift, with Sunny raising an eyebrow at your delayed presence.

She wasn't all that disturbed by it, but it made you annoyed for the first hour of opening as few customer came trickling in. To make matters worst as you were just dying down from your self-annoyance, Jungkook comes in.

It wasn't his order or the way he ordered that ticked your rocker off, but it was a good 30 seconds right after you'd finish making his drink order that he gives off an innocent customer façade as if you weren't the barista that he flirted with before.

"But I asked for light sugar?"

Blinking at him, you felt your eyebrow medially twitch. For a moment, you don't know what to do, and of course, Sunny's behind you, watching your every move carefully. An apology slips through your mouth as you take the drink and nod, feigning a smile at him as he replicates one of his own. "Oh, was it too sweet for you? I'll fix that for you."

Sunny is silent from the other side of the bar as she observes you remake the drink, being careful with the sweetness and your mind mentally shooting daggers at Jungkook's doe-like eyes while you perfect the drink. As you hand over the refurbished tea to Jungkook, he had the audacity to try it again in front of you, as if he was some critic for the Boba Review. Pausing to see if the taste was enough to be satisfied, he shakes his head and lays it in front of you, nudging it with the knuckle of his finger. "It's still a little too sweet."

Biting your tongue, you feel your eye twitch as Jungkook smirks at you, taunting you with the customer service you're forced to veil. And it's within the third drink you made for him, only for him to taste it and shake his head again as if you were in servitude to him. But knowing Sunny and how she is strict on Pleasantea's saying of, 'making the customer satisfied', you smile through the annoyance and the mental stabbing, Jungkook probably amused at how your right eye was twitching after he taunts you with purpose.

And on the fifth drink, you purse your lips as he finally take a sip of it— one that was dramatic and off the top— before he gives a satisfied nod, showing off his pearly whites to you as he takes the drink half-heartedly. "Thank you, it's just right."

Should've spit in that one, you thought.

"Sorry about that. Thank you for being patient," you grit through your teeth as he smirks winningly before trotting off outside into his damn red Jeep that makes you consider keying.

Unexpectedly, once the door shuts, Sunny starts to laugh at the other end of the bar, shaking her head as you turn towards her with two dirty shakers in hand. Concerned, you scrunch your eyebrows, "what's wrong?"

"You both are..." The way that Sunny scrunches her nose as she thinks makes you pause in your stance, wondering what she could say about you and Jungkook to be in the same category. "Something else," she observes, walking away with her head down to her iPad.

With Jungkook, it became banter here and there.

Most of the times, it's just silent banter, one of which he gives you a side eye, you simply taking it in every time he orders, but at least his friends don't feel the same way. You only familiarize yourself with Jaehyun the most out of Jungkooks' friend group, but even then, the entire group weren't strangers. Dahlia tells you about how they come here all the time and she can breezily list off their usual orders from the top of her head and eventually, it didn't become hard for you to befriend them.

Jungkook takes note on how your voice drops about the 5th time he's came in when you were working. It was more prominent after having dealt with a customer before his group of friends and him. He notices that you've taken a comfortability with them to be given the privilege to talk to them in your casual voice rather than the higher pitched voice that exudes customer service.

After the incident that you falsely laughed to him the next time you saw him at the shop of which he used Pleasantea's promise of making the customer satisfied against you and had you remake his drink five times, there were a lot of promising moments between the two of you. Dahlia witnessing one too many times that she keeps a stick note near the register and tally marks under "Jungkook and ___ Pleasantea tension". It made Sunny amused enough that she even tally-marked for the time he made you remake his drink.

There was this one favorable moment that Dahlia deemed deserves two tally marks because Jungkook just happened to come in and order a drink right before your shift ended. And while you assume he was going to pick a fight with you again, you notice as you're about to clock out, he was flirting with a girl. You don't think too much of it, until you notice the girl looking uncomfortable.

The dark-haired girl presses her lips into a fine line, almost forced as she tries to politely back away and silently hope that Jungkook would leave her alone. It isn't until she's laughing nervously and Jungkook following in her fleeing steps that you take the situation into your own hands and quietly wave goodbye to Dahlia who was in the midst of taking another customer's order.

Sweeping past around the bar, you approach the girl, politely laying your hand on her arm with a smile on your face.

"Hi! Thank you for waiting for me! You didn't have to meet me at work, I could have just picked you up!"

Jungkook, in the corner of your eye, furrows his eyebrows at the seeming connection between you two. The girl's face morphs from being startled to understanding your motives before she nods and follows in suit. "Oh, no worries. I wanted to get a drink anyways."

"Here, I'll walk you to your car and we can figure out where to eat," you kindly urge as she responds with an agreeing nod. When you peer over at Jungkook, he could only arch an eyebrow at the situation he was standing in front of.

"Jungkook," you acknowledge, a single nod heading his direction.

"___," he says your name with the same intent, watching as you and the girl he was unknowingly making uncomfortable slide past him, leaving him to grab his drink that was waiting at the other end of the counter, dumbfounded.

After that day, you made a new friend, her name being Jisoo. She gives her thanks as you walk her back to her car for saving her from that uncomfortable situation and you, in turn, having to explain that Jungkook is a little airheaded at times. You gave her a comforting hug and announce that you hope to see her soon in different circumstances in which she wholeheartedly agrees and while not only did you make a new friend that day, you also gained two new brooding tally marks on the pale yellow sticky note that stared back at you at your next shift.

Along with tension, Jungkook remains reluctant when he orders.

A roll of your eyes and a reassurance that tampering his drink was a one time deal— until he opened his mouth again, and it wasn't so much a one time deal— would be in check. But even after that second time you messed with him, you didn't bother with the third time, although he makes it very tempting to. "It's not like I'm going to continuously ruin your drink every time you come in here. I heard you're the reason why this place picked up business."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. Star of the lacrosse team, well-known in the town, bringing your teammates— that's what Dahlia tells me."

"Give Dahlia my thanks for her appraisal," he smirks and you snort at how quickly his ego has sky-rocketed by your simple statement.

"How can Sunny tell me that you're the most humble person on earth, yet you proceed to continue with cocky, yet cunning statements?"

"All apart of the charm, baby," he winks and clicks his tongue.

The "charm" makes you internally want to vomit. "Watch it, baby. I heard you're allergic to almonds. I'm not afraid to put almond milk in your milk tea."

He sucks in a deep breath at your threat, raising an eyebrow in challenge. The way you were so quick to use one of his weakness against him has him merely impressed, but nonetheless intimidated. "You wouldn't."

"Tempting," you hum to scare him off, but you shake your head. "But you're right, I wouldn't. However, you call me "baby" one more time, your next drink will have a little surprise with a side of an ambulance, just in case."

A handsome smile conquers his face, before shaking his head. "I'll just keep my mouth shut and hope you accept my tip."

"Tip accepted. Will that be all for you?"

"If I ask for my receipt, can I have your number on top?"

"Jungkook—"

And just then Jungkook cuts you off by hitting "print" on his screen, causing the long receipt to print from your end, an amused smirk on his face while you take his receipt and glare at him. Letting out a defeated sigh, you take the pen right next to the cashier and begin to write numbers on the top. "Just because you asked."

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at your notion and immediately acts calm when you look up to hand him his receipt. Internally, he was shocked that you actually put your number on it, followed by a heart and a comforting smile from your end as he didn't think it'd work. Jaehyun and Yoongi were just as surprised as well, but they shrug it off, thinking that you'd actually fall for his flirty tactics one way.

That was, until he calls the number that night when he gets home. He waits specifically until 9:23 PM and calls your number, hoping that you weren't asleep so that he could whip up a random and cheesy statement in the heat of the moment when you'd answer. However, when he hears the line pick up, he is first met with surprise, then confusion, then absolute hysterics as even he couldn't help but laugh to hear that you had given him a fake number, one so intricate that it led him to hear a man's voice saying, "so sorry, man. But they're not interested. But plenty of fish in the sea, right?" and then the voice mail message immediately ending.

Jungkook laughs in his kitchen, staring at his phone with an amused smile like an idiot. Even his roommate who walks into the kitchen to grab something from the fridge asks Jungkook why he's staring at his phone like a psychopath. Jungkook could only shake his head in realization that something as simple as to asking for your number wouldn't be that easy.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," Jungkook approaches you with ease, giving a head nod towards his lacrosse mates that he'd catch up with them later as he pauses to stop in front of you. Just then, he points at the drink you were holding. "You brought boba?"

"Came from work," you shrug. You didn't think you'd show up to this party last minute after getting a text from Chaeyoung that she'll pick you up at your house after you get home from your shift, but in an odd spin of events, you're at the party and sponsoring your job's signature milk tea. "It's my chaser."

He lets out a sonorous laugh, one in which he gives you a look as if you were pure genius. It slowly disappears when he gives a subtle nod of his chin to prep his next topic change. "Hey, just wanted to let you know that if you were jealous of me talking to your friend the other day—"

Widening your eyes, you retract your mouth from your boba straw and attempt to swallow down the sweet taste before you choke on it. "Slow your roll, cockface. I interrupted because she was evidently uncomfortable with your presence."

He hums in denial, making you roll your eyes at his obliviousness.

"Trust me, Jungkook, your flirting isn't all that great," you scoff, putting him in his place. "Just because you're Mister "Long Stick Shot", doesn't mean you're Mister "Long Dick"."

Jungkook lets out a laugh, evidently amused by your rhetoric. "As if you've seen one for good measure."

"Do you really want me to respond to that?"

And just as he snorts in response, you couldn't help but let a smile creep onto your face at the sound of his amusement. Unsure why, but you just want to continue hearing it and be satisfied that you're the reason for the laugh that elicits out of his mouth.

The small appreciation is well buried the minute you freeze for a single moment when you see a figure you've done so well to avoid.

A 61-day streak of not running into him, but who's counting.

A groan pasts your lips, followed by a scrunch of your nose that makes you want to chug down a bottle of Fireball rather than make the slightest interaction with your ex-boyfriend of two years, Kim Taehyung.

Admittedly, you were doing so well as to not running into him after that one incident at the grocery store. While you were with your roommates, they advised you to hide behind the apples and then covered you when you went into the tampon aisle.

Though it's been four months since Taehyung and you have called it a quits— more so on his end because he claims he had 'lost feelings overtime', it still bothers you to be in the same place breathing the same air as him. He wasn't the most revolting character in your mind, but if he were the last person on earth and there was only a bucket of water left, you would not share the basic human necessity with him.

Jungkook shoots an eyebrow at your irked presence, pondering if his existence standing only a foot away from you was that disgusting to you that you had to groan the minute he lets out a single breath. However, he notices the way your eyes flicker from the bottle of Jameson to your right to a certain person in the crowd a couple times, taking it into his mind of his own to look past his shoulder, trying to dictate which person is making you want to chug down a bottle of Jameson so badly.

"Who are you—?" As he turns his head back to your taciturn behavior, he was expecting you to have disappeared, but he did not think that he would see you, a cup of boba in one hand and the other, a bottle of Jameson being directed down your throat as your neck evidently takes in multiple chugs. Widening his eyes, he immediately brings his hands to the bottom of the bottle and retrieves it back from you while you take in every last drop before the bottle of the wretched liquid is retracted from your every grasp. "Are you insane? Slow down, babe."

You bring your boba straw into your mouth, driving off the pungent taste of what will come up again later on the night with your well thought out chaser, a few boba balls to chew in between your teeth before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Jungkook stares at you as if you grew two heads, placing the bottle down before someone else takes it with a glare shot at you for drinking nearly half the bottle in one go.

"Don't call me that," you let out a burp, one that makes Jungkook chuckle, shaking his head at how sporadic you can be. "I need to forget someone's presence tonight."

Jungkook wasn't dumb, he knew it had to be someone that's making you want to regret a fun night altogether. "Ex-boyfriend?"

You nod your head in the direction of where you previously stared at before doing something reckless in confirmation. Letting out a giggle, you wait until he scrunches his eyebrows his confusion for your clarification. "Of two wasteful years, the award for best douchebag is Kim Taehyung!"

He hums in response. "Ah. You know chugging down Jameson is only going to make you forget your name, not his."

Shrugging, your lips form into a smile. "That's alright, I'm not a lightweight. Don't worry. It'll take awhile for it to do its job."

"Not the job you want—"

"Shush," you stop him for a moment before taking one last sip of your boba and place it down onto the countertop, giving it a silent goodbye as you know better not to pick it up again after it has been set down. "You up for dancing, Long Stick?"

"What?" He chuckles, before he realizes that you've taken his wrist into your own fingers, tugging it as the loud speaker plays another Mac Dre song that has the crowd repeating, 'get stupid!' over and over again with the beat.

Jungkook wasn't dumb. He knew that you pulled him to dance with you in subtle hopes that Kim Taehyung would notice that you're cozying up to someone that wasn't him. He knew you could care less if it were either him or another guy in the party, but to Jungkook, in his mind, better him than any other blood thirsty, testosterone-filled guy that would take advantage of you and your badly drunken state from the wrath of Jameson.

He knows he may not be the best option to have you rub up against him as you slur the lyrics of Mac Dre's Thizzle Dance with his hands holding onto your hips, but as annoying as he can be with his coquetry, he knows that morally he cannot and will not take advantage of you after witnessing you chug down dark liquor that even he has bad memories tied along with it.

It doesn't take long before you're closing your eyes from the dizziness you were feeling from each sway and bump of your hips. It doesn't take long before everything becomes a blur and you're having to blink multiple times to keep your gaze in focus. You think you stumble over your feet a couple of times, but you can't tell if you're standing upright anymore. It doesn't take long before you feel yourself against someone, eyes closed as you find odd solitude in a stranger who holds you carefully in their arms. It doesn't take long that you indeed forget your own name, trying to steady your breathing. It doesn't take long before it's become black, and there is nothing for you to remember all through the night.

"Oh fucking hell."

There's something frightening about the first time you wake up and you register that you are somewhere that is nowhere near recognizable. It's not your own bed, maybe your own sofa, or even your friend's sofa— it's somewhere completely foreign. The realization after blinking the drowsiness away is what gets to you, and your heart races when the blood has gone cold as ice throughout your body.

That is exactly how you felt when the ceiling had a dark wood fan hung from it, when you felt that the bed was springy than your usual tempurpedic mattress, when you saw that the walls were not your room's decorative green, but a boring beige, when you realized that your bed was not only empty, but Jeon Jungkook sleeps soundly with his body turned towards you.

The worst part is realizing where you don't know where your things are. You distinctively remember you brought nothing but your phone and keys to the party right before you recall chugging down the devil's water.

As you sit up on the bed quietly to roam down your pockets of your jeans, you realize something that also makes you want to freak out as your breath has halted. You were also missing your jeans.

Peeking under the sheets, you must have gone pale to see nothing but your bare legs and your cherry printed underwear just below your waist. Thankfully your shirt and bra was on, but the night was too hazy to even tell what could have happened and that was enough to make you feel a vitriolic taste climb up your throat.

You turn your head in hopes to find something of your belongings, realizing with each sweep of the foreign room, you find your black jeans on the floor just at the foot of the bed. Gulping, you carefully and silently flip the sheets off of you, noticing that Jungkook didn't have one inch of the sheets around him and you wonder if you hogged it all last night. As you swing your legs off the bed, you make a queasy face each second as you stand up, the sound of the springs not helping you sneak off without waking up Jungkook.

Tiptoeing to your jeans, you snatch them and hope to find your phone in the back pocket, only to feel a bit of relief to find your keys, but not your phone. Closing your eyes at the fact that you might have to roam around the house to find your phone, you take your jeans and carefully, one by one, slide your feet into them.

And just then, as you take a peek at Jungkook, he shifts and stirs in his bed, a slight moan coming out of his mouth before you realize that he is just waking up. You watch in silence as his arm slings over to where you lied, as if searching for you, and after a few unsatisfying pats, he drowsily opens his eyes to where they trace up to you.

Both of your gazes meet and with your heart completely stopping, you let out a meek, "Hi."

In that moment as your pants are midway being pulled up along your legs, you suddenly forget how to move. Every inch of your muscles head to toe has completely frozen over and without even being punched in the gut, the wind was taken right out of you.

Jungkook notices how you freeze so much so resembling a dog, he stifles a laugh, a tired chuckle emanating out of his lips as he sits up with one elbow propping him up. He rubs his eye with a curved index finger before sliding the pad of his thumb under the tip of his nose. You can't help but notice how good he looks just arising from his slumber, while you were in the midst of taking a walk of shame. You cringe when you realize your makeup is probably smudged under your eyes. "Hi. You alright there?"

"Uhm..." You blink, mouth becoming dry. "In all honesty, I really don't know how this usually works because I don't usually do one night stands—"

Jungkook lightly scoffs at that, shaking his head. "___."

"Can we forget this happened? Like can we just totally forget that I woke up next to you and that we—"

"___," he cuts you off, a laugh following after. He's amused by your panic, your immediate assumption making you run off in sentences that were flying off the walls this early in the morning. "We didn't do anything."

You blink again, your already dizzy mind running circles all over again. "We didn't?"

"You were pretty piss ass drunk, babe. I asked around for your friend... Chaeyoung, was it? to take you home, but I'm guessing she went home with Jaemin." The look on your face was probably amusing because there's a quirk of his lip evident. "I was also asking you where you live to drop you off, but little miss "I'm not a lightweight" could not form proper sentences by the end of the night, so the safest bet? I asked Yoongi to lend me the guest bedroom for you." He pauses to see your reaction, but seeing that you were more anxious to hear why the hell your pants were off, he lets out a sigh and continues. "You removed your pants because you said it was hot. Not because I removed it, or because I or you were insinuating anything. You basically threatened to use your "one week free trial of Muay Thai" on me if I laid a finger on you."

That made you cringe. "Good to know that drunk me can still defend herself."

"Yeah, if that means verbally threatening someone to break their arm and then blacking out mid-threat is considered defending yourself."

His little add on was responded with a glare from your end. "I'll break your arm right now, Jungkook."

"Funny. You said that last night before you pulled me into bed with you."

And your eyes widen again. "What?"

"Mhm," he says nonchalantly before letting out a dragging yawn. As he scratches his head, he continues, "you apologized for being mean and then asked me to stay with you. Didn't even plan on leaving, babe."

"Okay. That's enough embarrassing me today. I don't want to know the rest."

"You sure? Because you also said—"

"Piss off."

Jungkook, hysterically laughing at your quick annoyance to his own tease, contemplates in his head if he should tell you that you both had just happened to share a kiss that night. But seeing that a coral color was formulating along your cheeks and you were biting down on your lip, he mentally decided against it.

The embarrassment would grow immensely if he told you that though drunk you can defend yourself, drunk you also revealed to him that his lips looked, quote on quote, "soft and kissable". And just when he was in the middle of explaining to you to use the code word "boba" to indicate to him that you needed to throw up, you took him by surprise and kissed him. Would he be a fool to kiss back? Yes. To kiss back gently and memorizing your lips? A thousand times yes— a complete idiot, at its finest form.

Too bad that you just happened to be fool's gold— and Jungkook just happened to like shiny things.

Of course, Jungkook had no intention of taking advantage of you that night, especially when you were piss ass drunk and in any continuing second, you might've had to use the code word "boba" without any warning. So, he pulled back, and while he was worried that you might've realized what you've done, there was a smile on your lips, your eyes slightly opened in a daze. When he says your name in caution, you hiccup and tell him, "your lips are soft and kissable".

Would he be a jerk to just casually throw it in there while you are nearly freaking out and slightly disturbed by the whole scenario of waking up next to him pants-less at that moment? Yes, a big one. To maybe keep it in silence for awhile so that he may use it against you one day? Oh yeah, definitely. Ultra Platinum Jerk 3000.

But if he was going to fall for fool's gold, he might as well be the Ultra Platinum Jerk 3000.

"Why'd you even stay?"

Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts, realizing that his eyes had somehow wandered down to your legs without much notice. You didn't mind, mostly because it didn't seem like he was checking you out, but more so in deep thought. Plus, your legs are pretty killer.

"What?" He asks, causing you to lightly scoff.

"Why'd you stay?"

His nose crinkles as if that question was a terrible question to ask. "To watch over you? I'm not that terrible of a guy to just leave a very vulnerable girl alone in a bedroom in a house she doesn't know."

You purse your lips, a bit surprised at that considering that this is cocky "long stick shot" Jungkook. "Well... now great, that just make this super awkward."

"No sweat," he waves you off easily, hopping off the bed and running a hand through his tousled bed hair. "Here. I can take you home."

You pause, blinking. Your now still movements caught his attention, an eyebrow raising in question to your reaction to his gesture. "Are you sure?"

"You'd like to walk home instead, babe?"

Rolling your eyes at his question to answer your question, Jungkook smirks. "Thought so. Put your pants on and let's go."

When you get out of the room, you follow him downstairs, only for him to stop at the midsection where the stairs turn the other direction. You halt in your footsteps as well before he dives into his pocket and reaches out a phone with your familiar blue phone case on it. "Here. Saw it sticking out of your pocket and I knew you were going to lose it somehow."

As you take it in your hands, you felt a big wave of relief flood over you as you realize you had obtained everything important that you almost had a heart attack about losing. You and Jungkook share a small smile, him acknowledging that that was your way of thanking him, but not being able to say it, but if you allowed yourself to, you'd throw your arms around him for caring just a bit. However, the thought disappears when he continues on going down the stairs, a moment delay in your head to process before you continue following him.

There's shuffling down the hall when you reach the floor, and while you can barely make out what was happening because you managed to remove your contacts and discard them somewhere, all you hear is a very recognizable voice.

"Holy shit, you fucked boba girl?"

Jaehyun.

"Jaehyun—"

You groan and throw an annoyed middle finger at Jaehyun, cutting off Jungkook who seemed just as irked by Jaehyun's blunt question. "Fuck off. No, we didn't. As if I'd ever let him." You roll your eyes at the Jaehyung's assumption, but Jungkook could only quirk his eyebrow at your add-on. "How about you? Were you fucking Yoongi?"

A snort is heard next to you, Jungkook looking the other way to stifle his laughter.

"Woah there, Shortstack," Jaehyun bemusedly smirks, throwing a towel he was holding over his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest. "And if I did?"

"I might have blacked out, but it's not hard to miss your screams for Yoongi's name down the hall," you announce, sarcastically. No, you were too blacked out to remember anything. Another snort coming from next to you as you let out an irritated sigh, your head just now pounding in indication of your hangover, is heard, but you were too drained to mentally high five yourself.

"Well, good fucking morning to the lot of you, assholes. I leave for one second and I'm suddenly dragged into a conversation about how I was getting fucked in the asshole by Jaehyun?"

"It's okay, Yoongi," Jaehyun turns to Yoongi, taking a step closer to him as he coos, "we don't have to deny it."

Yoongi rolls his eyes in annoyance and swats his friend away. "You guys are making my hangover worst."

"I've always known you were a bottom," Jungkook chimes in, making you, in turn, laugh. You mentally fist bumped him for that one.

"Yeah, and I could say the same for you," Yoongi throws back as it was your turn to snort.

You nod in counterfeit confirmation. "Oh, he's definitely a bottom."

In a breaking moment, Jungkook rolls his eyes and reaches down to grab your wrist hastily. "Would love to continue this wonderful conversation, but I have to take her hungover ass home." It catches you off guard when you realize after being tugged at the arm that it was Jungkook at the origin of the other end, making purposeful contact with you.

You let out a fake gasp, a bemused smirk playing your lips. "Ah, little Jungkookie is a bottom, huh?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out?" He challenges as you shake your head, laughing.

You pat his shoulder that was lifted while his hand extends to the back of your head seat as he reverses out of the driveway. "You see, it'd be an interesting experience, but two bottoms don't make a top."

He opens his mouth to say something— probably in regards to the open sentence that you just threw out there that confirmed you were— at least, preferably— a bottom. Knowing him, he would've said a snarky reply or a very sexual joke, but instead, there's a small smile on his face that you don't miss. It's out of amusement and while you've seen plenty of smiles like that in response to your own misfit of reactions coming from him, you don't miss the way his lips just curl with ease and how his eyes form crescents even from that minuscule facial muscle movement. Before he gets too suspicious of your staring, you look away, glad that your blind eyesight focused on his facial expressions, a fine resolution of a simple Jungkook smile arising on his face imprinted in your brain.

Jungkook comes in a couple days later. This time, he's accompanied with a backpack. You notice that he was intentionally staying at Pleasantea to study, making use of the bar and bar stools placed by the window.

You work with Dahlia that shift, her tapping the sticky note near the register in translation that she is predicting another iconic tension moment between you two, but it doesn't happen when admittedly, waking up to Jungkook beside you and him showing an ounce of care has made you warm up to him by a smidge. There was no walk of shame and he was good at making sure you had everything before you left his car. Not only that, he stayed in front of your home until you were inside safely.

It's the bare minimum, but truthfully, it's not something you expected from him.

When Jungkook usually comes in, he normally only waves to the other workers who wave back, and today was a bit of a groundbreaking moment when he first waves to Dahlia, flickers his eyes over to you and waves. A wave directed towards you and you only responded with a mere smile.

He orders something new. A peach green tea and when he went to pick it up at the other counter, he raises his eyebrows and silently smiles at you. In hindsight, it'd be a weird moment for Dahlia or for anyone who didn't know what happened a couple nights ago, and even to you, it's kind of different, but it was also refreshing.

Everything goes swell and dandy until you notice the door swing open from the back, the words "hi, welcome" becoming lost in throat when you notice who walks in. Similar to a storm nearing a field of daisies. A dream turned nightmare instantaneously. Instantly, you tap Dahlia's arm without a single word, swiping your hand back and forth near your neck in signal of who it was. Dahlia immediately taking note of it, nods and gestures you to hide in the back.

It's an odd feeling. You know that you're over him and you've been over him, but you can't help but wonder why your body is in fight or flight mode and why your breathing has become ragged. The air has suddenly become heavy and the walls seem to be caving in.

At a mental cross roads, you feel yourself heave breaths, simple tumbles of calm affirmations to stagnate your heartbeat runs circles around your mind. Few reminders of breathing in and breathing out, a mere countdown from 10 to 1, fingers tapping each other. You are trying so very hard not to struggle in the ocean as you had just been caught in the riptide. Out of the blue, completely unheard of, not a single sign, an abrupt happening— there is nothing to do but to not be scared. An evident showcase of fear, the water just knows without a doubt that you're struggling. It'll pull you in if you go against it.

Just then, in your moments of self-assurance, Jungkook's form magically shows up in the back room. Eyes widening at his presence, you're taken aback at how breezily he walks in an employee restricted part of the store.

"Hey."

You suck in a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and lower as you roll your lower lip inwards. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw who walked in," he simply explains, taking a step closer to you. "Dahlia said I can come in here. I wanted to check up on you."

"Oh," you breathe, not really comprehending his motive behind his actions and not really finding the effort to. "I'm fine, just... hiding."

Jungkook glances down to meet your eyes as you immediately avert your attention to your knees, tapping your fingers on them in a rhythmic fashion to settle your nerves. "You alright? I can ask Dahlia for a cup of water."

"That's okay," you shake your head. "Uhm— thanks for checking up on me."

"No need to thank me," he shrugs and in a blink of an eye, he sits in front of you, arms resting at his knees as he runs a hand through his hair.

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll wait until he leaves. I'm not leaving you alone."

You stare at him for a moment. At first, you find it wholly odd that he connected two dots when he saw Taehyung coming into the store and found it, to his own discretion, to accompany you, the person who is most affected by the presence of someone no more than a stranger to Jungkook. It's peculiar to think that there's just this smidge of care for you within him, but your past experiences and encounters with him thinks quite otherwise. And while he makes himself comfortable, meeting you eye-to-eye in an attempt of support, you let out a defeated sigh.

"So, how's work? You know, before he came in?"

You inhale sharply at his way of starting small talk. "Fine. Can't wait to get off, though."

"You got plans after your shift?"

Shrugging, you pull your knees closer. "I wanted to catch up on sleep."

He arches his eyebrow, taking note of how you built your walls higher and stronger. "You haven't been sleeping?"

In an honest gesture, your shake your head, shrugging. "Midterms."

"Hm, gotcha," he nods understandingly, letting it drag out into silence.

In all honesty, (and you won't admit it) his presence just happened to comfort you. He didn't have to say a word and just him being there— Jungkook taking the thought to care and stay with you was a matter of solace you didn't think you'd appreciate as greatly.

"You know what I'm craving?"

You lift your head up to meet his eyes, the pair that glistened with slight amusement to keep the spirits high. Wordlessly, you arch an eyebrow as he quirked his lip, answering his own rhetorical question.

"A big ol' hearty bowl of tomato soup and grilled cheese," he says with great yearning. He closes his eyes for a second as if to imagine the flavors just fulfilling his cravings. "And a nice slice of peach cobbler for dessert? Vanilla ice cream on top and everything."

Jungkook says it with such a dreamy voice that it makes you snort, a laugh coming from his end as he nods.

"Is that so?" You ask in between your tiny fits of chuckles.

"Yeah," he gushes in an obvious tone. "Does that not sound mouth-watering to you?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but let out one more chuckle before rolling your lips inward. "I'm craving gyozas. I could eat fifty of those in one sitting."

"That's a bet I'm willing to make, sweetheart," he raises his eyebrows, impressed.

Lips curling, a sudden gasp escapes your lips as your mind reawakens a craving you haven't had in awhile. "Ooo, and tiramisu gelato," you mull, shoulders falling as you think about the creamy texture of the heavenly goodness. "When I went to Italy a couple of years ago with my mom, I would always make her stop by every gelato shop we passed by so I could get tiramisu gelato."

Jungkook smiles. "Just tiramisu?"

"I mean, I dabbled in other flavors, but tiramisu—"

"He's gone now."

Your sentence is cut off when Dahlia's sweet presence briefly peeps from outside into the back room, Jungkook turning his head over his shoulder as Dahlia glances between you and him amidst your conversation on the ground. As Jungkook turns back and begins to stand, you don't miss the growing grin on Dahlia's feature as you know very well that she was going to add another tally mark.

Glaring at he, your eyes flicker from her and then to Jungkook who has his hand in front of you. Mindlessly, you grab it as you pull yourself up with a bit of a tug coming from him, a mere "thanks" coming from out of your mouth as he gives you a single nod.

"You alright?" He inquires as you give him one last nod, a smile growing on your face as a silent reassurance just right before he exits out of the back room and proceeds to finish studying.

20 minutes later, he makes his leave and waves goodbye at both Dahlia and you.

"Hola."

"Why are you still outside?"

It is 9:06 PM, Pleasantea closing at 9 PMs on the weekdays and Jungkook just happened to come in at 8:51 PM on Wednesday to teasingly spite you. However, as he left once he saw you turn the 'open' sign to 'closed', you realize while you are sweeping the lobby that his car is parked out in front of the shop. The red jeep with the top on sitting in front staring back at you, as well as his form sitting in the driver's seat, his face illuminated by his phone screen in his lap.

Confused as to why he was still outside, you call him from your phone. You happened to have his number after Dahlia just happened to slide it to him one day while you were off the clock, a random text notification sparking curiosity in you as you realized that the only person who would text— hey babe, didn't see you at work today— to you, would be Jungkook.

You watch the way the white light morphed into a dimmer light counteracting his face before he brings his phone to his ear. Doing so, he looks up and sees you through the window, the broom you were sweeping with standing right against you as you raise an eyebrow in question.

"I'm waiting for you to finish closing," he answers, his pearly whites coming to show even from afar. "By the way, loved the dancing to Blondie."

Your cheeks grow red in your realization that as it hit 9 PM, you blasted Blondie in the store speaker, and danced while cleaning all the tea tubs and sweeping the back to Long Time and The Tide Is High. "Piss off."

"You didn't say, 'please'."

Scrunching your nose, you stare at him as he is amused by your annoyance of him. "Jungkook, you don't have to wait for me."

"I know I don't. But I want to," he tells you, his voice sounding caring and concerned as he doesn't let his gaze off of you while he keeps you on the line. You let out a sigh before his lips curl upwards. "___, do you realize what happens to people at night when they're alone? Bad things happen. And while I'm still upset that you forgot to put boba in my drink—"

"I gave it to you in an extra cup!"

"I called Jihyo and apparently, you're the only person available to close tonight and I'm just purely making sure nothing happens to you while you finish closing."

"Jungkook—"

"Better hurry up, babe. At this rate, you won't be able to leave early."

There's a groan when you glance over at the clock, and Jungkook takes the time to smile at the way you stare back at him through the glass window, a middle finger adorned with a gold ring on your finger sent his direction before you let out another defeated sigh. "Fine, but come inside. Don't just sit in your car and watch me like a stalker."

"Aw, you want me to keep you company?"

"No, I just need a dance partner when Heart of Glass plays."

"You ask me to dance with you once, and suddenly I'm your dance partner."

"Precisely. Should've seen what you were getting into after I asked you to dance at the party," you say, a smile on your lips as you hear his laugh through the other end, his mouth open in amusement. "Now come inside. Maria's almost over."

You could not believe you were here.

In fact, you could not believe that you let a stinkin' pearly toothed and politely asking Jungkook convince you in the first place, and now you're sitting on your bed, realizing that the knot in your stomach is a reminder that you are not only lost, but also very anxious in the upcoming setting you put yourself in.

Last minute plans were never your thing. Sure, some spontaneity can be refreshing, but this was a prime example of reasons why you should not allow yourself to agree with such sporadic decisions without even a basis to work off with. Now you're sitting at the edge of your bed, staring at your closet, jaw slacked and mind running in circles, wondering if you're overthinking an outfit to wear amongst a bunch of people.

Besides, it's not like Jungkook's going to care. Not like you would expect him to— or want him to.

Recalling the last time you went to a game, you wore a plain white shirt and jeans, but you remember being cold that night— but those were autumn nights. Your mind tries to think of wanting to wear something, but the possibilities clashes and you result into groaning at your flavorless closet, knowing very well that there's gotta be at least something, but your mind was not coming up with anything.

Throwing your body back to be cushioned by your mattress, you close your eyes and cringe, retracing your idiotic steps earlier today on how you brought yourself into this mess.

"Hey, ___, wait up!"

Jungkook calls after you as you bid your farewells to your co-workers, pacing up to your form as you stop in your tracks, waiting for him to reach up to you. As his face comes into view, you pull your lips up into a small smile, eyebrows furrowing as to why he called for your name. He smiles back, a small peep of his bright smile before he places his elbow against the counter next to you.

"Come to the game tonight. We're going against UFenesy."

Hearing the invitation roll out of his mouth, you were slightly taken aback, but nevertheless practical when you shake your head. "I'm good, thanks."

He pulls his eyebrows together, though his inviting smile never leaves his features. "Why not?"

You shrug, unsure yourself as you pull your falling bag over your shoulder. Jungkook nearly reaches over to catch it for you, but seeing that you beat him to it, he flickers his eyes back onto yours.

Jungkook narrows his eyes in plain suspicion. "You haven't been to one, have you?"

"No, I've been to a game," you defend, eyes wandering as you finish your sentence honestly. "Just not a lacrosse game."

"Great," he grins, eyes sparkling. "This'll be your first."

Helplessly, you let out a laugh. It sounded more like a scoff, if anything— one that was in disbelief. "No, Jungkook. I have to finish an assignment and I have an exam on—"

"Is it tomorrow?"

"No, but it's on—"

"Come on, babe," he pokes at your side, making you take a step back as you narrow your eyes at him for his sudden poke. "I need my number one boba worker there."

You nod your head over your shoulder. "Then go ask Jihyo, not me."

He laughs in a way where his eyes crinkle, shaking his head. "No, come on. I asked you for a reason. Listen, I'll give you cash and you get yourself a hearty corn dog with extra ketchup and ranch, and you'll stand at a perfect view—"

"Jungkook, why does it sound like you're treating me as your trophy girlfriend?"

Jungkook frowns. "I'm not. I just want you to be there, okay? Even if that means buying you a corn dog and keeping the best spot in the stadium open for you."

Pursing your lips, you cross your arms. "I don't even know how lacrosse works. I'll probably end up cheering for the other team."

"Unless the other team has a teammate named Jeon Jungkook, then don't let out a peep. Just cheer me on specifically and you'll be fine."

"Self-absorbed," you inform him as he pokes at your cheek, making you look at him with an arched eyebrow. He smile reaches his eyes once more, hoping that you'd agree to go to the social outing just for him.

"Is that a yes?"

You pause, weighing your options. To stay home and procrastinate or to drag yourself into a social setting and experience a college game. "Will you give me a ride home?"

In hindsight, the former was probably a better option for your nerves, but admittedly, it was more so the most comfortable option.

And as if the universe has heard your regretful decision, your friend, Jisoo texts you in perfect timing if you wanted to go to the game with her tonight. First, you feel elated because now you have someone to go with, but you feel yourself groan for agreeing to something you regret. As you text her in agreement, you continue to have an internal battle with your thoughts for an outfit.

"There goes Jeon again with the long-stick shot!"

Jisoo picks you up when you tell her that you were already having a ride home— only if Jungkook remembers— and she was gladly to take you to the game. Though just only having to have met her, she explains how her friends don't really go to games and she usually goes alone. While you nod and reassure her that she has you now, you mentally thank the universe for her keeping your nerves at bay.

Right before the game started, a random person comes up to you while you were discussing with Jisoo about the classes you were planning to take next semester. "Are you ___?"

"Yes?" You answer, raising an eyebrow at the girl with hair in braids. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Essie," she smiles. "I'm one of the water girls for the team. Jungkook wanted me to give you this—" Essie pulls something from her back pocket and it's a twenty dollar bill. Before you could even let out a word of protest, she grabs your hand and places the bill in yours, retracting hers swiftly before she lets out a chuckle. "Jungkook said to do that because you would refuse. Also, he wants me to show you your seats."

"Wait, wait," you shake your head, eyebrows knitting closely together as you glance at Jisoo who tries to refrain from laughing. "Jungkook asked you...?"

"Yeah, he asked me to give you cash for a hot dog and to show you your spots because he said he promised you the best seat in the stadium. There's an extra seat for your friend, too," Essie glimmers a quick eye smile before giving a single nod, turning around and leading the way past the crowd of people to get to the so-called "best seat in the stadium".

Essie leaves you and Jisoo with a happy farewell after leading you to a seat where two other girls move after Essie waves at them for saving the spot.

"Enjoy the game!" The girls who were sitting at the spot smile at you and Jisoo before taking their spot that they were supposedly saving for you.

As the girls have left and left you and your friend dumbfounded, Jisoo was the first to laugh.

"Was Jungkook your boyfriend this whole time?" Jisoo inquires beside you, more so amused rather than angry as she sees your reaction to her question. Your mouth gapes open as you vigorously shake your head.

"He was never my boyfriend from the start," you scoff and she nods, laughing.

"Oh? And he promised you a seat at his game?" She curls her lips upwards curiously, jumping on the immediate implication that Jungkook and you have something stirring.

"He promised me a good seat if I went tonight.... And a hot dog. You want one?"

Jisoo lets out an amused giggle before shaking her head. "Maybe later. Game is about to start."

She explains which team is which and that UFenesy were called "Phoenixes", chiiming in that she's never seen the opponent play, but she heard they were a pretty good team that made it to championships the prior year. You nod as you try to figure out how to analyze the game just by listening on and off to the commentary from the echoing speakers to Jisoo's added explanations thrown in sporadically here and there.

It takes a couple of minutes, but you finally spot Jungkook, broad letters of "Jeon" imprinted on his jersey above the number "3". Finding comfortability of finding him on the field, you watch the whole first quarter solely on him and his moves. His stature was built and tall along his teammates, his speed and stamina was endless, and the way he would shoot and score each time was impressive— it was no wonder why the girls next to you screamed out his name every time a shot was made.

Home: 5

Visitors: 4

You watch attentively as his teammates all roughly gather up to Jungkook after making his second signature long-stick shot of the night, all of them hastily patting his helmet and shoulder while their testosterone-filled cheers were accompanied by the crowd's.

"Are you guys a thing?"

Nearly snapping your neck at the question, Jisoo doesn't tear her eyes apart from the field in front of her, her dark eyes looking around before she felt your gaze on her was when she meets your eyes. Innocently, she smiles.

"No, we're not," you answer honestly, a nervous chuckle coming out of your throat.

"Oh, so he just likes you," Jisoo turns her head back onto the field, nodding in thought. "That's cute. He had the water girls find you and save you a spot."

Scoffing, you shake your head. "Please, he's probably done that to a lot of girls. I'm not anyone special."

"I'd beg to differ," she hums to herself, amusement glinting her eyes.

As intermission at halftime arrives, Jisoo volunteers to stay at the seats while you go on and buy two hot dogs. One with ketchup and mustard, and another with extra ketchup and extra ranch. Thinking about it, you weren't sure as to how Jungkook knew you liked hotdogs with ketchup and ranch, but you ignore it as you take the hotdogs in both of your hands and walk down the steps to find Jisoo.

And when halftime ends and the third quarter speeds on by, you're in awe at how Jungkook talks to his teammates when they huddle. It's nothing that you can hear from where you and Jisoo stand, but from his stature and hand gestures, a pat on one of his teammate's helmet, you can see how much he cares about his teammates and how easy it was to motivate and inspire them. A true team captain at work. They release a mini cheer amongst each other before heading off to the last quarter of the game.

"Jungkook likes you and you can't convince me otherwise," Jisoo states out of the blue about ten minutes into the last quarter, making you turn your head at her once more. "Oh, come on, don't give me that look. He gave you money for a hot dog and saved you the best seats in the stadium."

"You don't think he'd do this for anyone else? If you gave him your number that day, he'd probably do the same for you, too."

"Maybe," she sings, not denying how flirtatious Jungkook was being to her that day. "But it proves that you may like him, too. Why else did you come?"

"For the—"

"The hotdogs are not that great, honey. Don't say it's because of the hotdog."

It was true, the hotdogs were so and so. Pursing your lips, you shrug. "Well, he just convinced me."

"Because you like him."

Jisoo was being stubborn about it, but so were you. "I don't like him. He doesn't like me."

"Oh, he definitely likes you," she laughs, shaking her head at your denial.

Wondering why she was so convinced about Jungkook liking you or vice versa, your mind drifts off to the time at the party when you asked him to dance. It wasn't meant to insinuate anything other than try to remove your mind off of a dreadful presence at that party, but you wonder why did he stick with you that night? Was it odd to think that that a simple expectation of sticking with someone under the influence— let alone a woman— should be common sense for him?

You'd think of him as a friend now— someone who is not consistently trying to badly flirt with you who causes your eye to twitch every time he comes in.

Admittedly, he's been pleasant to you. And undeniably, you're aware of such "tension" between you two, but you thought of it nothing more than just you being annoyed by his tactics. Did he actually have intentions of liking you? Sure, he's attempted to flirt with you, but overtime you didn't take it seriously? Why are you suddenly getting so affected by this? It's not like—

"North Stars and Phoenixes are tied."

The commentary snaps you back into present time, a quirk of an eyebrow while you flick your eyes to the scoreboard makes you realize that the commentary was correct.

Home: 10

Visitors: 10

"30 seconds on the clock— and there's Jeon with the ball."

Fixated on the man with the number 3 on his back, you watch as he zips through the opposing team like flying colors, flashing through like lighting as he keeps the stick right at his shoulder. He picks up the pace when he feels someone cutting through from his left, dodging and leaving them at the hands of one of his teammates to slow them down.

The clock ticks downwards with every anticipating bones of the crowd shaking, leaning in, clenching. Hushed whispers of, 'come on, come on' are heard from behind as you subconsciously clench your fists tightly until they were white.

It's not until he's close to the opposing side's goal, the opposing defensemen running towards him like moths surrounding a beacon of light— your hands intertwine with each other almost in prayer, heart rate speeding up as you watch his feet kick behind him and in an instant—

"Here comes Jeon—"

The ball hits the net.

"There it is! Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon again with the winning shot for the North Stars!" The sports commentary becomes overpowered by the loud screaming of the crowd, Jisoo included when sue stands next to you jumping up and down with raised fists and clapping hands. For you, you didn't realize how anxious you were feeling when you let out a sharp breath of relief, a laugh eliciting from your throat as you watch Jungkook run through the field haphazardly, his teammates scurrying over to him to engulf him in hugs and pats.

What set your heart off the rocker was that when his helmet is pried off from his head, his eyes go off on a flurry search onto the crowd, immediately stopping when they meet your eyes from the screaming and wild crowd. It's like he instantaneously ignores his teammates shoving and sharing loving pats around him when he meets your gaze, an ethereal moment of how time just completely stops around you both as you share that gaze with him.

A smile so handsome and pearly stretches along his face before the god gifted moment was pulled away too soon, and he is pulled away by being lifted into the air by his teammates, sonorous chants being audible enough to hear from the stadium.

"Cannot convince me otherwise," Jisoo nudges you with her elbow, causing you to roll your eyes despite your coral pigmented cheeks growing dangerously evident.

As people began to trickle out as the game was officially over, the parking lot becoming filled with cars leaving, Jisoo waits with you voluntarily for Jungkook. When you try to convince her to go on and go home, she rolls her eyes and announces all of the "what if's" ranging from being abandoned to someone kidnapping you. Sighing defeatedly, you both wait for Jungkook who takes awhile, but you don't mind— you loved Jisoo's warm presence.

Jungkook spots you first before you spot him, calling your name from a distance before his teammates— you recognizing Jaehyung and Yoongi behind him— run up and jump on him, sharing fits of laughter before you smile and look at Jisoo.

"Alright, I'm gonna head out now. Give Jungkook a winning kiss for me. And make sure he gets you home safely. Text me, alright?" Jisoo gives you a hug before you roll your eyes and squeeze back lovingly, her parting away and heading towards her parked car in the lot.

As you head over to the sweaty Jungkook in his casual attire, his friends shove his arm and laugh.

"See you at the after party, Jungkook?"

"Maybe," he nods towards Yoongi who asked the question. "Gotta take her home tonight."

"Whaaa?" Jaehyun nods his head towards me, placing both hands on his team captain's shoulders. "Not comin', Shortstack?"

"Opening tomorrow," you reason before grinning at him. "If you want hangover boba, just pop right in."

"Sweet," Jaehyun cheers, giving Jungkook one last shoulder pat before heading off a different direction with Yoongi. "Take her home safely then, Kook. You comin' afterwards?"

Jungkook pauses, a slight glance given your way as you obliviously quirk an eyebrow at him. He gives an outward point of a chin before letting his teammate know his answer. "We'll see."

Eyebrows raised, you purse your lips at his answer.

"What?" He asks when he notices your facial expression.

"You're not gonna go? I live only like 10 minutes away from campus with driving. You can still make it."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Nah."

"If you think I'm letting you into my apartment—"

"No, I was not thinking that at all," he lets out a chuckle at your wary assumption. "It's just—" he pauses and he lets out a sigh. "Do you need to be home now? Can you spare an hour or two?"

His question makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"You said were craving tiramisu gelato, right?"

"Yeah, a couple days ago," you furrow your eyebrows, recalling the moment when you disclosed your craving in the odd circumstances that was when you were mildly panicking, eyes nearly watering, and to save your sanity, you began talking to him about what was going through your head all thanks to his calm approach of making small talk.

Tiramisu gelato circled your mind.

"I know a place with the best gelato. Closes at midnight. You up for a little gelato action?" He smirks, you walking beside him towards his car.

You let out a small chuckle, a bit flattered that he remembered that you were craving gelato. "Sure. But I'm paying for yours."

"Why?"

"Because you're driving."

"Psh. That's nothing."

"Jungkook—"

"Keep your money in your purse or else I will take it and never give it back to you."

"But— Jungkook!" In a wrapped up instant, he hastily grabs your bag from your shoulder, dashing as fast as he could resembling his previous run across the field to make the winning shot. Seeing how he was gone in a blink of an eye, you run after him, calling his name. "Jungkook!"

And just like how he started running, he halts, causing you to bump into him when your momentum was too fast to stop a second early. All at once, he collects your force, a hand at the small of your back to keep you from knocking both of you guys over. The physical contact makes you shiver under the night, and the realization that you were close to him as he was close to you makes everything ini your mind stop.

He looks down at you amusedly, his chuckles fading out as he realizes that you were staring up at him, the level of proximity you two were at with no one around you guys but you two suddenly becoming well aware in his mind like headlights. He didn't want to let you go, he stops and it's this moment where you two are close and you kind of stare at him and sigh. "Fine. I won't pay, but can I have my bag back?"

"You may." He gladly gives it back under your touch, taking a step back to amusedly make the previous proximity obvious. Once your bag was back in your grasp, you narrow your eyes at him before you take a step forward and give him a jab at the arm.

"Ouch," he laughs, rubbing his bicep of where you punched him. "I gave you your bag back."

"That was for making me chase after you," you huff, sending him daggers through your eyes. "You know I hate exercise."

He throws his head back in complete bemusement before leading you to his signature red Jeep.

When reaching to the gelato place that took awhile to travel to as it was near the beach, located next to a small theater and a pizza place, you furrow your eyebrows at how unfamiliar the place seemed to you.

As you gather your bag, you realize that Jungkook had disappeared from the driver's seat to reach the other end of your door to open it, his chivalry exuding from the gesture. Surprised by this, you give him one small acknowledging nod and thank him, a laugh eliciting from your throat as you tell him that he didn't have to that. But before you even finished that sentence, he opens the door to the gelato shop for you, a teasing, toothy smile on his face as he awaits for you to go inside.

You take a moment to scan through the flavors, all of them sounding appetizing before your heart is set on the tiramisu flavor just sitting at the very end beneath pistachio. You don't hesitate to ask for a scoop of tiramisu in a cup, an excited childish smile on your face as Jungkook keeps you close.

He goes ahead and orders the double chocolate gelato after looking at the flavors, you taking the cup the worker already scooped for you in your hand and taking a small spoonful to taste. Your mouth instantly waters.

Peering up at Jungkook as he watches you attentively fulfill your craving, you purse your lips. "Don't you usually go to Pleasantea after winning a game?"

"Yeah," he nods, shrugging. "The team and I deserve winning drinks."

"Then why are we here getting gelato?"

"I mean," he clears his throat, plucking a blue spoon from the jar of blue, red, and purple spoons. "I got the winning girl with me, it trumps a winning anything."

His statement makes you snort. "An excuse to break tradition?"

"An excuse to spend time with you," he nods with affirmation, bringing his spoon to his mouth. Rolling your eyes to that, he gives off his winning smile all while biting his gelato spoon. It was such a picture perfect moment, you mentally snapshot him before his attention is torn from you to grab his scoop of gelato. "Besides, I begged you to come to the game anyways. It'd be a dick move to just abandon you afterwards."

"True," you agree, before you stop in surprise at how Jungkook smoothly takes out his wallet and pays the worker with a ten dollar bill, putting the rest into the tip jar as you both leave your grateful thanks to him and leave. Jungkook goes again and opens the door for you, stepping beside it to let you out. You narrow your eyes at him once more and murmur a thank you in which he gives a chivalrous nod.

Instead of walking to the car, he leads the way to somewhere, you following suit beside him. You don't question it, mostly because you were distracted with your tiramisu gelato and the fact that you've grown so accustomed to Jungkook that you let your feet match up this pace.

"Good job out there, Long-Stick. Now I know why all the girls swoon over you," you tell him once you both settle over the rails that overlooked the beach. It was a vast opening, the ocean was almost as ebony as the night sky, but the moon was the glimmer that differentiated what was the sea and what was the sky. It was romantic itself, but you don't let the venue label your current experience with him. While it was beautiful, you don't let it get to your head.

Your appraisal makes him laugh lowly. "That was nothing."

"Against UFenesy? I'm pretty sure that's something," you recall what Jisoo told you. "Plus that last shot had everyone on the edge of their seat. Including me, and I didn't know what was going on for the half of it."

He lets out a fit of chuckles at your honesty. It makes you feel warm and appreciated that you're able to make him laugh. For some odd reason, you feel like his laugh is as rare as diamonds, and it is so beautiful once found. It's contagious and just as pleasing as yawning and you just want to hear it more and more.

However, once his laughter dies down, you chew on the inside of your cheek. "Don't you want to go to the party tonight?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. You made the winning shot, Long Stick," you shrug. "Don't you want to celebrate by getting drunk or high?"

Jungkook, shamelessly, stares at you closely as if you were hiding something. "You sound like you want to go home really badly. Just tell me up front and I'll take you."

"No, it's not that. I just don't want to be holding you back from anything or changing up your plans for the night."

"___," he laughs hearing this, shaking his head. "Relax. You're not holding me back from anything. I'm a big boy, I can change my plans as they go." You give him a nudge, one that follows with a laughter coming out of his mouth. "Besides, I'm with my winning gelato and my winning girl with a Blondie obsession at the beach. I don't need to go to a party to feel this high."

"Is that so?"

"I'm on top of the world, babe. You wanna try my gelato?"

He brings a spoonful of his gelato towards you and usually you'd hesitate from trying a shared portion of anything from someone, but there was a level of comfort that exuded safety, one where you allow yourself bring your mouth to his spoon and taste the rich flavor of milk chocolate gelato along with with biting down onto a dark chocolate bit.

Returning the gesture, you bring a spoonful of your tiramisu to his mouth, one where he happily eats it off the spoon and nods approvingly of the flavor that you were craving a couple days ago.

As you let his gelato flavor melt in your mouth and you bite down on the bit, something floods your thoughts— dark chocolate wasn't too bad.

Jungkook's mind is engulfed by you.

When he dropped you off that night, he felt the luckiest he's ever felt— somehow his lead to multiple victories have all been trumped by simple quality time with you. It wasn't at all romantic, but he somehow can't unwrap his mind around you. You are tattoo ink, your name written all over his mind and his brain as a constant reminder that you are very much alive— a living, breathing form he has grown to be submerged into. An addiction, an obsession.

He likes the way your eyes form crescents every time you are introduced to a new customer. He's convinced it's no longer your customer service persona, but your general nice appearance that is sweet and approachable. And while you may argue that you aren't as sweet as you may be given by the first encounter with the dull milk tea, he knows that you are as sweet as the tiramisu gelato you are so very fond of.

He won't tell you, but he remembers every drunken spill you unraveled to him that night when you thought it was a good idea to drown your mind out of a certain someone.

When Jungkook first brought you inside the guest bedroom and helped you sit on the bed, you let out a slurred threats of using your muay thai free trial if he ever touched you, but only giggled afterwards when you expose yourself of quitting because people made fun of the way you jump-roped— "princess jump-rope", as you liked to call it.

You like fun, printed underwear over the lacy see-through ones, and while he didn't catch a glimpse of the ones you wore that night, you made it an announcement and proof that you were wearing cherry printed ones. You were craving a hot dog that night, almost bursting to tears because you wanted a hot dog with extra ranch and extra ketchup so badly, but sucked it up when you started staring at him. You have a lip tattoo— an impulsive and drunk decision walking by a tattoo parlor with your friends at 2 AM— that says, 'ur mom'. You also admitted that you didn't want him to leave you— not that he was, he was only going to lock the door to prevent people from coming in— and that you like his presence no matter how annoyed you may seem by him.

And while you were drifting off to sleep, you let out spills about Taehyung.

"When Taehyung and I broke up, it was because he lost feelings. I mean, I guess it was also mutual because I felt the same way, but, uhm... I was so convinced that we would last. I think I'm more mad at the fact that I didn't end it first. He stopped making me feel loved about a year in. Honeymoon phase was over, I guess, and I don't know— I guess I just lost that security and love with him. I should be relieved that he ended it, but I'm just mad that I wasted two years of my life being with him when I should've just ended it first."

He didn't say anything in response to that— it's not because he didn't want to, it's because his mind could formulate such words that would console your drunk mindset. And before he could even let out a peep, he hears a light snore.

He doesn't forget everything you said that night though. He couldn't. Not when it's the most you have ever disclosed to him.

As if you weren't occupying his mind enough, you somehow show up at times he merely forgets about you.

One time, you were working a closing shift and you decided it would be nice to surprise Jungkook with a drink, remembering he would be staying up that night to finish an assignment. You went out of your way to ask Jaehyun for his address to drop it off, Jungkook very confused to see a text message with "come outside" and to see you with one of your crafted drinks in hand and your hair flowing down your shoulders as you released it from your work bun.

"A bit stalkerish, isn't it?"

"Hey, you asked Dahlia for my number. This is merely an innocent act of giving you a drink because I know you're staying up," you defend with a smirk. "It's a strawberry and guava green tea. It's not heavily caffeinated, but it'll keep you up for a bit because you should also get some sleep while you can."

Jungkook, to your misfortune, couldn't sleep that night, and it wasn't because of the strawberry and guava green tea or the amount of homework he had to finish, but it was because you had swarmed his mind the whole night. The overall surprise from you in which you went out of your way to ask his friend where he lived, to remember he was staying up to finish an assignment, to handcraft a drink that wasn't on Pleasantea's menu, the text of "come outside"— it is all small gestures that accumulate and create a supernova in his mind. All the vibrant colors and specks of stardust trail to you that it was impossible to sleep. And even when slumber did come to him after dragging hours, you were in his dream.

Another time he likes to recall was when he came in while you were working and that day, you were particularly happy, and he'll never forget it because you went, "Welco— Jungkook! Hi!" in the most sweetest tone he didn't think you could ever muster, but the way that you smiled and how your features were accentuated with a bit of makeup made his heart skip a beat.

He was going to order something that same day, but you shook your head and stopped him. "Here, I made this drink the other day and I think you might like it. It's on me."

And gratefully, he liked it. Even if he didn't like it, he would've pretended to just for you. And when he asks what it was, you wouldn't tell him what you made it with, but what really caught him off guard and made his insides turn to gooey liquid was that you called it the "Jungkookie Tea."

Jungkook doesn't miss the way Dahlia overhears what you named your drink for him, meeting Jungkook's eyes with an entertained smirk as she hides away to the back room, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Hi, I left a surprise for you on front door," you called him one night. Jungkook just came home from his lacrosse practice and as he arrives home, there is a large paper bag that has his name written on it in neat, cursive lettering that makes him question who his secret admirer is before he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He answered it immediately when he saw your name on it, an immediate announcement that you were the one that left him that surprise on his doorstep.

"You're scaring me here, babe."

"I just like keeping you on your toes," you smirk, as you laugh into the phone. Jungkook opens his front door and kicks off his shoes, walking into the kitchen and flickering on the lights excitingly to open your gift to him. "Just open it, you'll like it."

"No way."

"Way," you laugh into the phone. "I baked it this morning after I came home from the farmer's market. I bought some peaches and remembered that you were craving peach cobbler a couple weeks ago. There should be a pint of vanilla ice cream in there, too. Do you have roommates? You can share with them, too."

"Hell no, I am not sharing your god sent dessert with my roommate."

"You haven't even tried it yet, idiot! Be nice."

"Nuh-uh. It smells too good. I'll probably end up finishing all of this up tonight. Thank you so much, babe."

"Anytime, baby," you coo, his mind stopping immediately when he hears you call him 'baby'. "I'd like to keep you on the phone, but I'd rather listen to Blondie on the road."

"Okay, drive safe."

"Share!"

"No promises."

"Jungkook—"

"Bye," he sings before hanging up. And as much love you put into it, he ate it with all the love he had for you.

Small moments with you fills his mind up to the rim and he is as elated as ever. Jungkook prides himself for being able to be at a level where you sort of expose him of your previous past introductions with each other, all of those in which he couldn't remember. You tell him of all the times from the first encounter at the frat party, to the embarrassing moment of when he threw up on your new pants. It made him groan as you cackle beside him in his red Jeep in front of your house.

Obviously, it flew past you, but you tell him that truthfully you weren't very fond of him during the whole distasteful plain milk tea with no sweetness ordeal, and anytime after that, but he lets out a laugh with a simple apology flying out of his mouth for the past encounters that really did not work on his first impression with you.

However, there was this one moment that irked him a lot. So much so that he couldn't really hide it from you.

Sunny asked you to go to Orange Valley to restock and while you would've happily obliged, your car wouldn't make it very far if you were to drive, so she offered asking Jungkook to drive. Jungkook, at first, was ecstatic that you asked him as an alternative to drive you there— a road trip with you probably wanting to change the songs multiple times until you were satisfied or you snoring away in his passenger seat until you both get there.

However, he was silent while on the freeway, unsure of what to really say. And you weren't dumb, so you caught onto his aura when you sat in his car.

You try to make a joke to lighten up the mood about this one customer who wanted a fruit tea without the fruit in hopes you could witness a laugh from him, but only a light scoff was the result of your efforts gone to shit. Knowing that there was no good on having a grumpy Jungkook driving you for the rest of the day, you let out a laugh. A veiled laugh, one that makes him question you silently.

"It's funny because you remind me exactly of this drink I made last night." He glances at you as you nod. "Yeah, yeah, it was the black tea with boba. Bitter, with tiny balls." Your laughter dies along with your analogy you throw in the air. Your arms sternly cross over your torso, an arched eyebrow awaiting him when he gives you a glance. "Mhm, yeah. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

His lackadaisical answer was too quick for your taste, anticipating very well that he was going to dodge it the minute you bug him about it. However, you were too stubborn enough to not let it go. "No, I want to know."

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, shifting his previous position of two hands at three and nine of the wheel, to move one arm to prop against his window, leaning his head on it. "___, it's nothing—"

"Then why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

Scoffing, you shake your head at his purposeful obliviousness. "Distant. Cold. Bitter. I don't know, but it's giving me bad vibes."

Jungkook signals to merge onto the carpool lane, you noticing that his speed rising on the speedometer with haste that it makes you shift in your seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jungkook, stop acting like that," you state in a softer tone. It sounded more like a beg if you listened carefully, but you straighten your shoulders against the seat to not come off that way. "Did I do something wrong?"

He immediately takes notice as to how you immediately take blame onto yourself, making his previously tense body soften at the way your voice had gone soft and how you were no longer staring ahead at the road, but at your knees that were pressed together. He wonders if this was the result of your past relationship where you were convinced that you were always the one to blame. He adjusts his position again behind the wheel, one where he returns his free hand back onto the wheel, more relaxed as he releases his foot from the gas slightly to keep a steady speed along the road. Jungkook now felt bad.

He stays quiet before you try one more time, poking at his arm in which he gives you one more sideways glance and lets out a sigh. "You called Jaehyun to pick you up instead of me."

Jungkook notices how your eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"Last night, at the party you went to. You called Jaehyun to pick you up and take you home."

"Oh," you nod slowly. "If you're upset, just know that him and I didn't hook up or anything—"

"No." Jungkook cringes. It's first the thought of you, someone he has began to feel things for, being with one of his best friends and teammate in a sexual way that made him want to gag. It's then the realization that that was your first immediate thought as to why he was upset that made him realize he's explaining it all wrong. "No, it's not that. It's more because you called him, but you didn't call me that upset me."

"Oh," you nod once more. "Oh..."

"It's not a big deal—"

"But you were busy last night—"

"I know," he says, tapping his finger against the wheel. "I can't get mad because I told you I was busy, but..."

He notices that you turned your attention to him, which caused him to sweat a bit. "But?"

"I would've dropped everything if you called me to pick you up. I know, you didn't want to bother me, but I want you to know that you can depend on me, too. If that means dropping a late night lacrosse practice with the defensemen for you to be home safe, then I do not mind."

Hearing this created pangs in your heart, your cheeks ultimately flushing before you couldn't help but smile up at him. "Is that the only reason why you're so Mr. Grumpy today?"

"Not a big deal, ___—"

"I'll call you next time," you cut him off before he takes back everything he says. "I thought you were getting annoyed driving me everywhere."

"No, just the opposite," he smirks. "I just want you to know you can depend on me. Calling Jaehyung wasn't bad, but call me next time."

"Okay, I will," you promise, a smile never breaking from your face. "Thank you. Very sweet, very thoughtful," you muse, bringing a hand to teasingly comb your fingers through his fluffy raven hair. "Now will you stop being a Debby Downer? I'll put you as my personal chauffeur in my contacts so you can stop being so sad for the whole trip."

"Fine, sorry." Jungkook, without thinking about it, grabs your hand and adjusts it so he can intertwine his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand that left butterflies in your stomach. He lets out a laugh before meeting your eyes for a spare second and then back onto the road. "Am I still the black tea you made?"

"Not at all."

To you, Jungkook was anything but bitter from what you have learned about him in the past few times you've shared moments. He makes you laugh and makes you feel appreciated that you can't help but want to do the same for him.

"Woah, hey. What are you doing here?"

Jungkook's bewildered, but it comes off as just subtly surprised to you. After a good day of practice, with his last game tomorrow, he wasn't expecting to get a text from you telling him that you're pulling up in 5 minutes in front of his house. And here you are, climbing out of your car as he takes in your form, a quick sweep up and down of the 12 AM you in nothing but your Gryffindor t-shirt just barely covering your pajama shorts that exposed your legs that he had to consciously remind himself not to glance over at too frequently. Still, he couldn't help himself with a few stolen looks.

You're panting, and not because you're exhausted or you're that out of shape that getting out of your car took out all the energy from you, but somehow standing in front of him in nothing but your thrifted tee and pajama shorts has made you feel more vulnerable than ever and more nervous than you'd let yourself believe.

"I was just..." your voice trails off, but you taking in one big breath as he studies you carefully. "I was just wondering if this thing I did was just completely stupid or—"

"What?" He asks immediately. "What did you do? Was it that stupid that you decided to come over in your pajamas?"

His questions make you laugh. It's breathy. Airy.

It's your nerves wracking together as you try to figure out a way to formulate words, but it's hard when he's wearing sweats and a t-shirt that hugs him nicely when his arms are crossed over his chest.

"I'm fine. It's just that— uhm," your eyes flicker to his where his eyebrows furrow in concern, making your heart stop when you realize that he's actually listening. "I think I let myself catch feelings for you."

There's this grace period that happens. It's surprisingly excruciating and long. It's like you're watching your own heart get ripped out of your chest before you realize that what has just happened. Jungkook could only pause, and you could only handle silence for so long.

He gives off a single nod, one that makes you blink as you realize that could be his only answer. Nodding, you suck in a deep breath. "Alright, nice, cool. Yeah, good to know that it actually was stupid, uh—"

"No, no, no," he stops you mid-rant as you pause yourself from whipping around to walk back to your car in utter embarrassment. But even as you pause, you hope you aren't completely making a fool out of yourself before you can back out. "Come here."

"You know, it's fine. I don't know what I'm saying and I don't think—"

"___, please shut up for one second and come closer." He watches as you poke your tongue into your cheek before taking a step towards him with your gaze trained on the ground. "Can you look at me please?"

Letting out a preparing sigh, you bring your gaze to look at him, his expression all bland and emotionless.

"There's a few things I want to ask."

"Oh. Uh, okay? Shoot."

"Are you sober?"

The question throws you off for a moment. "I mean I drove here—"

"Are you sober?"

"Yes, I don't condone drinking and driving, idiot."

"Okay," he heavily breathes.

"Is this, by chance, a prank?" This question makes you furrow your eyebrows, not only throwing you off, but making you speechless. "Like, is there a camera somewhere and I'm being punk'd?"

"What?" You ask, astounded by his question just before you're shaking your head and beginning to walk away. "No— okay, you know what? Forget it. I knew this was a dumb idea to be here and actually confess that—"

He grabs your arm, his hand grasping your forearm and giving a slight tug in hopes you'd stay grounded. "I'm not done. Are your feelings real? Or are they just a figment of your imagination to compensate for your break-up?"

Hearing his blunt words, you feel your eyes widen at how easy he can let those words roll off his tongue. You scoff in sheer astonishment, yanking your arm back in attempt to get away from his grasp but he holds a firm grip on you. "God, this was stupid."

"___, answer the question."

Sparing a glance at him, you notice at how his face was not at all hard— not one formed out of pure jealousy, but a refined look of compassion. One that was willing to listen, one that was sparked from curiosity, one that was forged from general empathy and care. Seeing at how his eyes don't hold a single ounce of defense nor offense, you let yourself relax under his touch, a movement that caused him to loosen his grip that wasn't at all squeezing you uncomfortably in the first place.

"Honestly?"

There's a twinkle of light that you don't miss in his eyes, a subtle hint from him to you in hopes you'd continue instead of turning the other cheek.

"I don't know," you breathe out, feeling his hand drop from your arm completely to his side. "But what I do know is that I haven't stopped thinking about you these past few days. And all I know is that every time someone comes into the shop at around closing time, I'm expecting to see you. Either with your friends, or your teammates— I don't know, my eyes are just trained to find yours, I guess? And no, I don't think I'm completely healed from the break-up, but that doesn't mean I never will. And if it's worth anything, when I'm with you, talking to you, or even when you're just... there— I don't feel hurt or, or scared. I feel safe." And happy, and excited. And I might just love dark chocolate now.

"You make me feel safe," you securely tell him with a full heart, knowing very well that it's out in the open and there's no going back. "And you make me not want to leave your side. I just want to be with you, for as long as you'll let me."

Jungkook's head is spinning. There is no way, the girl who claims to not be sweet as his milk tea you made him during the night of his winning shot against Renall University, his number one boba worker, his Blondie fanatic, his winning girl was reenacting a dream that he so wanted to give to you. He imagined he would be the one to pull up to your home outside after having to realize his feelings were too much to contain— too much to endure— right before he lets out words that he probably would regret putting it out there into existence.

This isn't confusion, this is elation.

While he processes each word, digests every sentence, consumes the ever-so subtle nervous smiles and chuckles you elicited within your wholehearted confession, he forgets that he's a physical form of a human, standing right in front of you with nothing short of a blank expression. It makes you let out a nervous clear of your throat.

"I answer your question and you're not going to say anything...?"

The observation you announce aloud snaps his mind back into the realm of what is of you and him in nothing but in both of your pajamas, the night sky shedding light on your vulnerable hearts in the open.

He lets out a speechless breath of air, before he rolls in his bottom lip inside, tongue gliding along the inner lower part from his right cheek to his left. You would be lying if his silence wasn't making your heart beat fast and your cheeks stain red.

Jungkook eventually shrugs. "I knew that my charm would reach you eventually."

The straight vanity dripping from his response causes your eyebrows to shoot up, then a scoff to leave your mouth, and your third instinct to turn around towards your car. However, you are stopped midway when he grasps your wrist and tugs you back to him, his honey laughter ringing in your ears.

"Alright, okay. Bad move," he acknowledges while you scowl. He drags his hands down to yours as he smirks once more. "Just don't make my drink with no sugar again." The entertainment he was gaining from this rather than really responding to your excessive pouring of emotions was irking you to the point that you raise your fist to punch his arm, only for him to avoid that by wrapping his arms around your waist.

Unfortunately, his hugs just happened to make you feel safe enough and your liquids turn into absolute goo that you relax under his touch.

"You're not stupid," he tells you into your hair. "Though it is kind of surprising to see you in front of my house all vulnerable like this."

"Shut up, Jeon."

"Don't worry, I thought about doing the same thing to you," he confesses, watching carefully at how your scowl softens just when he says that. "Mhm. Except it'd probably be more embarrassing. More of begging rather than confessing."

To that, you let out a snort, one of which he cuts you off short as he tugs you closer to his chest.

"However, if you really want to give us a chance," he begins before he pulls his signature smirk. "I'm not opposed to it." You peer up at him and purse your lips. "Does that mean I get a boyfriend discount?"

As you scoff, he laughs along with you, tucking a hair behind your ear as he holds onto the smalls of your back. "Endless boba supply?"

"You're getting a drink with spit in it."

"And baby, I'll be happy to drink it."

Just then, your jaw drops, your immediate reaction to slap his arm lightly. And he laughs, pulling you closer (if that was even possible). "Don't worry, you get a perfect seat at my games and a flying kiss from me before each game."

"Very cute," you muse at the idea.

He stares at you for a long moment, and while you think it's him trying to memorize every bit of your face, his eyes kept flickering down to your lips back to your eyes. In an instant, you realize that he just didn't know what to do next, but he sure as hell was thinking about kissing you, it makes you burst out into a tiny fit of laughter. "You're not so much of a kisser, are you?"

Jungkook scoffs lightly. "Do I come off as an expert in kissing, babe?"

"No, but you're lucky I have some experience."

Groaning, Jungkook lolls his head back while his nose cringes at your sly comment. "I don't want to see an image of the girl I really like making out with her son of a bitch ex-boyfriend."

"Oh, so I went from Annoying Brat to a girl you really like?"

"Yeah, yeah, you leveled up. Did you want a kiss as a reward or what?"

"Yes, please," you smirk as you bring all of your weight to your toes, lifting your heels to give yourself enough height to press your lips onto Jungkook's, slowly and easily. He's taken aback by how much time you dragged along with it, nothing of a sort of the fiery and urgent kiss you first had with him.

He pulls away and he laughs remembering that you have no absolute recollection of the first time you placed your lips on his. Ultra Platinum Jerk 3000 underway. "Not bad for our second kiss."

"Second?" You furrow your eyebrows in complete confusion. "When did we—?" Realization hits you in the face as your jaw goes slack, staring up at him in plain shock. "No, we didn't."

"For the record, you did. I pulled away."

Your arms still wrapped around his neck, you pull back to gape at him. "And you didn't want to tell me about this?"

"I was saving you a lifetime's worth of embarrassment."

You cringe, mentally face palming yourself that you let yourself slip so easily under the influence. "It's embarrassing because you pulled away!"

"Hey, hey, you caught me off guard. I wanted to kiss you back, but not in that current state you were in. You said my lips were "soft and kissable"."

Adamantly, you shake your head. "No, I didn't."

"Mhm," he smirks, bring his hand to tuck a hair behind your ear, his fingertips purposefully dragging down the skin of your neck to create evident goosebumps. "So what do you think now? Still soft and kissable?"

"Jungkook, I'm literally going to make sure your drinks are a living hell," you threaten, scowling at him.

He gives another amused laugh, pulling you closer from the smalls of your back before peppering kisses onto your cheeks, causing you to squeal at his immediate affection. "Alright, alright. Points for Gryffindor, no need to get all feisty."

"Dickwad," you call him, making him smirk. "I'm leaving now."

When Jungkook feels a slight slip of you from his fingers, he grasps onto you quickly to press his lips onto yours once more. Undeniably, you couldn't ignore the way your smile pulls at your cheeks with each peck he places onto your lips, laughter being shared into the air by both of you as you try to wiggle out of his strong grip.

"Jungkook, I have to go," you beg in between fits of light-hearted giggles. "Jungkook!"

"Fine, fine," he sighs in defeat before pressing one more kiss onto your forehead. "See you tomorrow night? At the game?"

"Will my spot be saved?"

"I'll have your name engraved on it," he nods making you smile like a fool. "Gelato right after?"

Eyebrows pulling together, you pat his chest with your palms. "You don't want to get boba with the boys?"

"Nah," Jungkook firmly shakes his head. "Besides, I'd rather break tradition to spend time with you."

1K notes · View notes

fictionalabyss · 4 years ago

Text

Saltine.

Pairing : Crowley x Plussize!Reader

Word count : 1,930

Warnings : AU (Crowley isn't a demon but is super fucking rich), Cam girl, Cam show, drinking, partial nudity

Header by : @sorenmarie87, as always. She's the best and I adore her and her work.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

The internet was filled with so many girls thinking they could get rich quick just by taking off their clothes. Like they were something special, something to behold. But really, they were one in a billion. Forgettable. Nothing different from the next person.

You were one in thousands. Slightly better odds.

Being a BBW, while nothing overly special on it’s own, did do one thing for you. People who ended up in your room knew what they wanted. They wanted a curvaceous goddess in their face. Curves and softness, something you had plenty of. The pool of plus size cam girls was smaller than the pool of everyone else.

Beyond that, you did what people paid you to do. If a guy paid you to fill your room with balloons and pop them one after another by sitting on them, you did it. Rub lotion all over your stomach and then spit on it, sure. Wear clothes that were two sizes too small, why not.

Tonight was kind of like that. Packages from a few regulars had shown up in your PObox, and one of them had contained a bottle of booze. Glencraig, a scotch whiskey you’d never heard of until James showed up in your chat room and paid for a private show where you drank and talked with him for an hour about two months ago. Now you had your own bottle. So you had taken a picture of it sitting between your legs, put it as your profile pic on the site and titled your chat “Me and Craig. Let’s see where this goes.”

Crowley’s bored and frustrated. The office is empty and he’s supposed to be working but he’s pent up. It’s been a long day of morons fucking shit up and he needed a god damn break. Billions of dollars at his disposal and he still couldn’t buy good fucking help to run his business.

He’s scrolling through women, looking for someone to catch his eye and quickly realizing he doesn’t think anyone will. They’re all the same. Once you’ve had one, you’d had them all, and he’s had plenty in his time. Fergus McLeod was no innocent. He was the farthest thing from it.

With a grunt of disapproval, he started looking for something different, hoping for something new. Key words being typed into searches, but nothing catching his eye in half of those either. Not for long, anyways. ‘BBW’ was a keyword he’d hit. Not many girls online, some of them into some niche things that he’d honestly consider, but all their pictures were the same. Every single one.

Except one. It had him leaning closer, trying to read the label. Interested enough in that at least, he hit join. What he found inside made his cock twitch.

A dark leather chair, not too different from one he sat in himself. Smooth thick thighs he found himself wanting to bite into. And between them? The item that had taken hold of his interest, the reason he’d clicked to join. Glencraig. The bottle was freshly opened from the looks of it, about three fingers missing, so probably only on her second glass at most. He leaned in again, trying to get a closer look at the label. A soft curse fell from his lips when he saw the numbers 1974, and then ‘Aged 34 Years’. His cock twitched again, and he found himself reaching down to grip it through his slacks.

It was a close up of the bottle right now, and he wasn’t complaining. No one complained when she went to refill her glass, either. A whiskey glass was brought down to her thigh, then the bottle was brought out of where it was nestled, and a bare pussy was exposed. Chimes rang through his office, followed by a soft giggle as she poured, and then the bottle was placed back down, her pussy hidden once more behind the amber liquid and the black label. Then the camera moved.

It was tilted up more, following the glass as it was brought up to her lips and she took another sip. A shiver ran down her spine as it burned, and Crowley found himself smiling along with her. He heard another chime, then her laugh again. The tip amounted to about 75$, give or take.

“James, don’t be absurd, you already paid for the bottle.” She spoke as she pushed the camera back, giving a full view. Bottle between her legs and that seductive smile on her lips.

A message came up in the chat that read ‘Maybe I want you to be able to get yourself another. Hey guys! Let’s get her enough to order another bottle so we can have another night like this!’

The chat sped up, messages agreeing with the sentiment, and more chimes of tips being given for the cause. Another giggle came from her lips as she brought the glass back up to her mouth.

Not to be out done, Crowley made a donation of his own.

You were smiling, giggling, happy that everyone seemed to enjoy the theme of the room tonight. Glad that James approved of how you used his gift. You tilted the glass back just as a few chimes went off signaling more donations, and one of them made you choke on the scotch and spit it out. You stared at the screen, stunned as the liquid ran down off your chin.

Who the fuck was TheKing, and why did he just drop what had to be about 2 grand on you?

A new alert sounded, and you noticed you had a DM. Speak of the devil.

>> TheKing : From one Glencraig lover to another. I hope you enjoy it, love.

You stared at it, still in shock. In all your time as a cam girl, on here, on BBW specific sites, nothing like this had ever happened before. People bought gifts, sure, but this?

>> TheKing : Breathe, darling. >> TheKing : Don’t forget to breathe.

Realizing you had just been sitting there staring at the screen, you wiped your chin off and licked your lips, trying to collect yourself. The main chat was blowing up, you weren’t the only one dealing with shock and awe with what just happened.

“Uhm.” you breathed out awkwardly, not sure what to say, how to react. Was this real? “All hail The King?” an awkward chuckle followed the words, but the chat room was filled with messages of ‘all hail TheKing!’ “Should I bow.. or..” you joked, with a shy smile.

>> TheKing : No need to bow, love. >> TheKing : Though I wouldn’t say no to a conversation.

A soft smile graced your lips before you typed out your answer.

<< Saltine : We’re having a conversation. >> TheKing : I was thinking something a little more face to face. >> TheKing : I hear your voice, you hear mine.

You licked your lips, the general chat room forgotten for the moment. With money he dropped on you, your undivided attention for a moment was the least you could do.

<< Saltine : I don’t meet people from the site in person. It’s a safety issue, I’m sure you understand.

Three little dots in the corner let you know he was typing almost immediately.

>> TheKing : I wouldn’t expect you to, love. I meant more of a chat where I have my camera on too. Make it a little more intimate. I don’t mind paying for a private show where you don’t need to show anything. I would just like a drink with you.

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, considering the offer. Private shows didn’t really happen a whole lot, but when they did, it was charged by the minute so it was worth the time. You found yourself using your thumb to crack the knuckle of your index finger, and then your middle one before you nodded. “Yeah, we can do a private chat.” you spoke, letting the chatroom know your cam would be shutting off in there in a minute.

>> TheKing : You just made me a very happy man, darling. Whenever you’re ready, you let me know.

You were chewing on your lip as you waited for his cam to kick in. It was a moment of black before a bright light seemed to come on, and quickly it shifted. There was black in the middle of brightness, and then slowly the light seemed to adjust. It was a window. A massive window. As the lighting adjusted, you found yourself looking at a man in a suit and behind him, a city skyscape all laid out for him. Glancing at the time, you wondered where in the world he was. Was it evening like where you were, the sun still holding on and not yet ready to set, or was that a morning glow behind him. Either way, it looked beautiful.

The man himself was something to behold. Not stunningly beautiful, not young and fit like some of the guys who popped up on camera for you, but captivating. He seemed to demand attention, radiating power. He was someone. A few very short hairs touched his forehead, he had a short beard as well, one you had the urge to run your fingertips over. Dark piercing eyes that you felt burning into you as one side of his mouth turned up into a smirk at your reaction of seeing him.

“H-hi.” you stuttered, then curse yourself for it.

His smile only widened. He brought a glass up, and that’s when you noticed the bottle on his desk. The same as the bottle still sitting between your thighs. He took a sip, then placed the glass down on the dark wood. “Why Saltine?” he asked, and you felt your stomach flutter at the accent.

“Because I’m so fucking salty all the time?” You gave him a shy smile. “Why TheKing? What are you the king of?”

“Your dreams.” He answered without hesitation and a fuck ton of confidence. He was cocky, he knew the effect he had on people and how to use it. “If you wish it.”

“Tempting.” you try to tease, lifting your own glass to your lips. “Why me?” you ask before sipping.

“Glencraig. Aged 30 years or more, there is no finer drink, love. It’s rare to find a woman with such tastes.”

“It was bought for me.”

“But you enjoy it, yes?” You gave him a nod. You had to admit, it wasn’t bad. “A woman of taste.” he smiled again. “What other things do you enjoy, Saltine? Money? Things? Travel?”

“Are you offering?” he intrigued you. He really did. Something about him made you want more and you didn’t even know him. “I could use a vacation.”

“Anywhere you want, darling. Where would you like to go?”

“Paris.” You answered quickly, and it didn’t seem to faze him at all. “Scotland.” you added. “England. Ireland. India. Japan. I want to see it all.”

His smile widened again. “Scotland, eh? It has been a while since I’ve been home.”

“I was joking.” you chuckled.

“I wasn’t. In another life, I could’ve given you everything you wanted and more with just a snap of my fingers.” You sat there, stunned again. “Choose a place and I’ll send you there. If you want, I’ll take the time and meet you there. The choice is yours, darling. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this interested in anything.”

“All because of a bottle of Craig?” you asked.

“Everything good in life starts with a quality scots. Be it a whiskey, or a scotsman.” he winked. “So where first?”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging : SPN - @sandlee44 @just-another-busy-fangirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @deanandsamsbitch @deans-baby-momma @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh @ksgeekgirl @hobby27 @maddiepants @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn @fandom-princess-forevermore @kalesrebellion @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @lyarr24 @dreaming-about-fanfictions

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#crowley x reader #plussize!reader #crowley #crowley fic #reader insert #crowley au #au #au fic #spn #spn fic #spn au #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural au

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inkdemonapologist · 4 years ago

Photo

Tfw it’s like 6am and your penpal shows up at your hotel room but he’s like partially a demon and also won’t stop smiling????

Hi again Allison we’re all Very Normal

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

ANYWAY HAVE SOME, OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES for Session 6!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] You said you were there for... inSPECTION?? [Jack] In hindsight, that must've been a HECK of a Fast Talk considering half the group is in pyjamas.

[Henry] It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to sacrifice Henry.

[GM] *about Sammy's sacrifice attempts* He was very polite about it. [Sammy] Yeah, he was! [Henry] He was very polite, he gets points for politeness. [GM] And then he got yelled at, so unfairly! By someone. [Sammy] And then melted! So everyone was on the whole very rude about it. It's your own fault he's like this now.

[GM] We'll say it's ajar, how about that? [Joey] Oh, I thought it was a door.

[Sammy] You can spend Luck!! [Jack] Do I want to use Luck points, though? Here's the problem, I'm the person who finishes the JRPG with twelve thousand healing items, and has used TWO. [Sammy] Here's my counterargument: if your Luck gets really low, you start failing Luck checks, and bad things happen to your character. [Jack] ...that's a perfect counterargument, I'm going to do it.

[GM] You both spot the hat with the press card! Lying on the floor, over by one corner of the sliding doors. [Jack] Oh that's BETTER than taking sanity damage! [Sammy] EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!

[Joey] There's another jug of space juice. [Sammy] I don't want space juice!! I WANT PAINT.

[Henry] *tired* Hey, Sam. [Sammy] What providence, my little sheep! [Henry] ...Good to see you too.

[Sammy] Go into the other room and introduce yourself! [Joey] With two hats on. [Sammy] ASSERT DOMINANCE!

[Jack] Jack is going to take the hat. He's going to have, uh, at least one emotion. [Jack] Maybe more [Jack] Imagine

[Joey] Joey is immediately going to clamp his hand onto Sammy's shoulder, and ask him if he can feel it. [Sammy] UHHH? His... hand...? [Joey] Not-- No, the stone. [Sammy] OH

[Jack] Jack, how are you going to communicate this if one of your hands is taken up by a hat? [Joey] Interpretative dance! [Sammy] Put hat in elbow while writing, you can juggle stuff, [Henry] Put the hat on. Over your other hat.

[Sammy] Sammy will scurry with or without the sheep, but they are his navigation system, so,

[Joey] That is a place we are known to be by the people who tried to... murder us?? Or something. Snake us??????? [Jack] (Snurder.) [Joey] Snurder us.

[Henry] We're just gonna grab our stuff and head out and... let you finish dealing with the sNAKE, I guess!! [Jack] (the snake has already been dealt with!) [Henry] Okay, but the aftermath of the snake! The snaftermath.

[Sammy] In case we get grabbed by an Angel [Sammy] the much less well-liked sequel to Touched by an Angel,

[Sammy] You traitorous sheep, this is not what I asked you for! [Joey] Do you want to die. Is that what you’re interested in?! Just, sacrificing yourself, without doing the proper rituals, not getting anything done--?! [Sammy] What do you know of proper rituals?! [GM] (....quite a lot, actually,) [Joey] Yeah! Much more than you do! And I will make an intimidation roll! [Jack] Boys,... you’re both pretty,... it’s okay....

[Joey] We’re pretty sure there’s Angels.... does she know how to kill them. [Jack] What a first thing to—! No pleasantries, no “please excuse the fact that I’m grinning and have weird eyes and also Sammy has weird eyes and also I have a tail,”

[GM, speaking for Allison] She would like to know what all this is about! [Joey] We’re having problems— [Sammy] He tried to contain something that should not be contained!! [Joey] Shut up, Sammy! We’re having problems!

[Joey] Joey is just going to quickly explain that he.................... [Joey] *mumbling to himself* how do you explain this???

[Joey] Um... I guess he’s going to mentally ping Bendy and ask him how he would describe himself? Like... what was his job, I guess?? Security??? [GM] Bendy says that he’s an eldritch construct that was defending a cult... and now he is something else! That he doesn’t have a word for. [Jack] !! He’s a FRIEND now!!! [GM] He’s friend-shaped! But not at the moment. [Joey] No, right now he’s Joey-shaped.

[Sammy] I mean the whole body is garbage but you apparently want Sammy to wear clothes, so whatever.

[GM] Allison adds that she thinks she might have a connection to get you guys in to the party, if you need that -- [Joey] Wouldn't hurt! [GM] -- so long as you don't mind pretending to be the help! [Joey] ...hm,,,

[Joey] Admittedly, having two angles would be better than one. [GM] Two angels, what? [Sammy] There's an "I can be your angle or yuor devil" joke somewhere in this campaign...

[Sammy] Well, we've learned how to bind an angel, [Jack] Gotta teach the angel proper binding techniques!

[Sammy] Sammy will thank Allison for her help. [Joey] Oh god, there IS something wrong with him!

[Joey] Let's go get Norman tied up in this more! So we can hire him later!!

[Sammy] Jack over there like "I hope it doesn't taste bad" meanwhile Sammy's been grimacing as he swallows paint for the last two hours, [GM] Ink is much better, didn't you know! [Sammy] Ink is better... this tastes wrong... [Joey] I just really love the idea of Sammy longingly looking at Joey's flask like, "aw, you have the good medicine, mine tastes like the terrible cherry crap!"

[GM] So you all have shots with Allison! Space juice shots. [Jack] What a way to start the morning!

[Jack] These boys are gonna heckin' pass out! [GM] They got, what, maybe 3 hours of sleep? [Jack] And all of Jack's sleep last night was sat upright in bed, with his glasses on, surrounded by notes, [Henry] sounds like college [Jack] You're exactly right, Jack's sleep was exactly like college! He was stressed, he didn't sleep for very long, he was surrounded by notes, Pete was there,

[Joey] *saying farewell to Allison* Keep yourself safe; don't go out where we're going. [Joey] Unless we don't return, then pLEASE COME OUT AND FIND US,

[GM] Norman says, "Oh, I see you're back with your friends, Smiley." [Jack] I love the concept of Norman calling Sammy "Smiley," and then Prophet Sammy, in response to this, smiles, and Norman has no idea if this is like, weird? or some kind of strange power move to assert dominance.

[GM, as Norman] When I said I saw things happening on the 2nd, you're the one that went pale! [Joey] How's Prophet Sammy's cONCEPT OF TIME, [Sammy] Not great!!!! [Sammy] I don't think he... knows when the 2nd was.

[Sammy] Forgive my memory. That doesn’t ring a bell! [Joey] He's... a little affected right now. [Norman] ...you don't say...

[Joey] Listen. I have $75 here for you, to take us out to the lake, as soon as possible. [a couple minutes of googling later] [Jack] That's equivalent to $1,464. Joey. [Sammy] CAN YOU IMAGINE?? "We need you to take us to the lake please" "Alright, but explain to me what's going on?" "SORRY, the guy who said that is clearly HIGH OUT OF HIS MIND, here's A THOUSAND DOLLARS, take us to the lake please!" [Jack] its a trip to the lake, what could it cost, $75 [Joey] *laughing* I should've looked up how much money I was saying before I was saying it, [Sammy] No, no, I think this is accurate to JOEY DREW

[Henry] Henry is just watching everything happening... [Sammy] Henry is waiting for the next video game breadcrumb trail to show up. [Henry] YEAH, [Jack] “Oh! Looks like I need to put three gears in this thing!”

[Sammy] I'm so angry on Sammy's behalf that you've made him meet two different people like this.

[Joey] If he does ask for money later, Joey's going to give it to him, because he has no concept of.... money.... [Sammy] No concept of GIVING OUT ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS [Jack] Can Joey Drew meet me, in real life, please? [Joey] I don't know if you want that to happen,, that might be more of a curse,,, [Jack] I'll take a curse! Gimme money! [Sammy] vOICE OF EVERY JDS EMPLOYEE

[GM] And you've got suits, and dress shoes...... [Sammy] We are not dressed for this. [Sammy] ...We are more dressed for it than we were earlier. I promise you, Norman, this is a step up, believe it or not.

[Sammy] Probably making a face because it tastes bad. [Henry] Tastes like paint! [GM] The cab driver might just wonder if that's a new drink this year. [Sammy] If nobody jumped on top of Sammy to stop him from using his mouth, he would probably say something with vibes of "this is beyond your comprehension" [Joey] Joey might try to stop that, and instead just be like, “Yes. It is.” [Henry] He's high. Don't worry about it. [Jack] Driver's just like "oh, I should try some of that when I get off work, seems like a good time!" [Sammy] You should! It'll open your eyes! [Sammy] (I'll stop evangelising the cab driver now.)

[Henry] Henry is: Sims Tense Moodlet.

[Joey] Joey instantly does not like this, and it is apparent on his face, if Sammy can see it in the mist. [Sammy] Probably not! [Jack] You could say he mist it!

[Henry] We need to hurry—! [Sammy] *screaming* THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!!!!

[Sammy] Sammy will be, sort of... whispering reassurance? I don't know how reassuring it actually is, [Henry] I'm sorry Sam, nothing about you is reassuring right now. [Sammy] Just kind of like, hush hush, come my sheep, that sort of thing, [Joey] Prophet ASMR Channel! [Jack] I'm sure Jack would appreciate this actually, it's a shame he's not the one getting this, [Joey] No, he's getting whatever comfort Joey can offer, which, uh, [Sammy] Well, and I will say, he's not like, whispering it in Henry's ear, like-- [Jack] I don't think Sammy in any form is capable of whispering. [Sammy] ...y'know [Sammy] that's fair

[Sammy] Well everyone's doing alright! We're doing great, it's going great! [Jack] Nooooo! No going great! I want more insanities! [Jack] ...I can stop at any time, I swear.

[Sammy] We can hold Norman's hand if you want, like, that's up to you. [Joey] Roll for gay, Norman! [Henry] Take him to dinner first,

[Sammy] This is such a bad idea that we're having.

[Joey] Joey is probably at this point holding onto someone else to guide him, and more in his head than not. [Sammy] Sammy's out of hands at this point, Joey, so you'll just have to figure this out. [Sammy] Got his hands full of sheep.

[Joey] Did Norman drink the juice. [GM] Did he...? Did he...... I think he was convinced enough by “this drink will save your life” that he does take a drink! [Joey] I'll roll intimidation if that helps! [GM] Yeah, you can roll to see how quickly he does it, or if he drinks enough of it. [Joey] *rolls* That's an EXTREME SUCCESS. [GM] Well, there we go; there's a preview, Norman, of your work environment!

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #joey drew #when in doubt just keep drawing #jack henry sammy and allison are here too #i just love the permasmile so much

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foreverfangirlalways · 4 years ago

Text

Sander Sides High School Host Club

Sanders Sides OHSHC-

This is simply a bullet fic for a Sanders Sides version of Ouran High School Host Club. Everyone is Supernatural except for Virgil, and if y’all like it enough, I will turn it into a full fledged fic. Just let me know!!

-_-_-_-

Original Character= Sander Side -supernatural identity- tattoo that shows supernatural identity Haruhi=Virgil -human- ??? Tamaki=Janus -shapeshifter- dice surrounded by various shapes Kyouya=Logan -vampire- fangs with a moon and cross Hikaru=Patton -Cupid- bow&arrow w/ heart Kaoru=Emile -Siren- musical notes with emoji Hunny=Roman -fae- willow tree and red mushrooms Mori=Remy -sandman- hourglass combines with a sandstorm Renge=Remus -fae- willow tree and green mushrooms

-_-_-_-

~A bunch of freaking people talking loudly in a freaking library!~

Virgil – [Sigh] ~This place has four library rooms. You'd think one of them would be quiet.~

~How are things in heaven Andy? I can't believe it's been ten years already. I'm beginning to think that rich kids only come to school to have a good time.~

~An abandoned living room. I guess this is the only place I'll be able to study in peace and quiet.~

[Gets buried in an avalanche of petals]

Sides Host Club – "Welcome!"

Virgil– ~When I opened the door, I found the Host Club.~

Janus *background/narration/janus answer to Virgil’s ‘whaaa???’*– "Only those with excellent social standing, filthy rich families, and are supernatural creatures are lucky enough to spend their time here at the elite private school, Sides Academy. The Sides Host Club is where the school's handsomest boys, with too much time on their hands, entertain other handsome boys who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as Sides Academy's elegant playground for the super-rich, supernatural, and beautiful."

Virgil – "This is a cult?"

Patton– "Oh wow, it's a new boy!"

Logan – "Patton, Emile, I believe this young man is in the same class as you, isn't he?"

Emile– "Yeah, but he's so shy and quite! He doesn't act very sociably, so we don't know much about him."

Logan – "Hm. Well, that wasn't very polite." "Welcome to the Sides Host Club, Mr. Honor Student."

Janus – "What? You must be Virgil Storm! You're the exceptional honor student we've heard about."

Virgil – "How did you know my name?"

Roman– "Why, you're infamous. It's not every day that a commoner gains entrance into our academy. You must have a lot of nerve to work hard enough to fight your way into this school as an honor student cutie."

Virgil– "Boi, excuse me?"

Janus – "You're excused. You're a hero to other poor people, Storm. You've shown the world that even a poor person can excel at an elite private academy. It must be hard for you to constantly be looked down upon by others."

Virgil– "Ahhh, you’re that type of asshole. I think you're taking this "poor" thing too far."

Janus – "Spurned. Neglected. But that doesn't matter now. Long live the poor! We welcome you poor man, to our world of beauty."

Virgil– "Bitch, bye. I'm outta here."

Patton– "Hey! Come back here BFF Virgil! You must be like a superhero or something. That's so cool!"

Virgil– "I'm not a hero. I'm an honor student. And who are you calling "BFF Virgil!?"

Janus – "I never would've imagined the famous scholar would be so openly gay."

Virgil – "Openly what? BITCH WE’RE ALL GAY! There are no girls at this school! It’s like, a requirement or something!"

Janus *not listening*– "So tell me what kind of guys you're into. Do you like the strong, silent type? Because we don’t have that. We have Remy instead.

Remy- “You got that right babes. Silence is weakness. That’s why I always be slurping Starbees! *siiiippppp*”

Janus- Then there’s the boy Lolita? That’s Pat and Em! How about the princely type, Roman, or the cool nerd type, Logan?"

Virgil– "None! I was just looking for a quiet place to study."

Janus – "Or maybe... You're into a guy like me. *winky winky nudge nudge* What do you say?"

Virgil– "I will slap you. Back away!"

~Joan enters to see what the club was up too, and hears a ‘crackboom’. He turns to the noise, and sees the club standing over his broken vase.

Joan- “BROOOOOOOO! No effin' way, dude! Who broke this vase? Who broke this vase? Seriously, guys. Everyone who's here at my awesome party... this huge crowd of people that's definitely here right now...”

Virgil- *Mumbling* “Oh my go- wait, are they drunk? Why are they talking like that?”

Joan- “Somebody broke my grandma's vase. And that was the last thing she gave to me... to sell for about 75 thousand dollars! I swear to all things football and/or skateboarding that I will find you. Don't make me cry these incredibly manly tears! Anyone can speak up here and be a part of this scene. Especially those of us who aren't imagined and are actually here on the stage.”

Janus, Logan, Patton, Emile, Roman, and Remy all facepalm.

Joan- “Like, not the people who are imagined to be here through means of suspension of disbelief.”

Logan- I do not understand theatre. Joan, you don’t have to practice your script right now! Besides, you literally watched Virgil break it.”

Joan- “True, but I was very convincing! Now, ima go, but y’all should have the new guy do indentured servitude or something, because that’s the typically way a teenager pays for breaking a vase. Bye!”

All- “Bye Joan!”

Virgil- *gulping and looking around the room*"Uh, I'm gonna have to pay you back."

Remy – "With what money? Babes, you can't even afford a school uniform."

Roman – "What's with that grubby outfit you've got on anyway?"

Virgil- “Hmm, don’t like you either asshat.”

Logan – "Well, what do you think we should do Janus?"

Janus– "There's a famous saying you may have heard Virgil, "When in Rome, you should do as the Romans do." Since you have no money, you can pay with your body!”

Virgil- *raises an eyebrow, flips him off, and moves to leave*

Logan- *grabbing Virgil’s arm and pulling him back* “He doesn’t mean like that! He means-“

Janus- * interrupting* “That means starting today, you're the Host Club's errand boi!"

(Scene change)

Virgil– ~I don't know if I can handle this Andy. I've been captured by a bunch of boys that are calling themselves a host club.~ [Indistinct chattering] Brian– "Um, Janus, what's your favorite song?"

Janus– "What song? The one that reminds me of you, of course."

Steve (the stove) – "I baked you a cake today. Would you like to taste it?"

Janus– "Only if you'll feed it to me darling."

Bill (the drill) – "Oh wow. You're so dreamy."

Chad – "May I have a word with you Janus?"

Janus and Bill – "Huh?"

Chad– "I've recently heard the Host Club is keeping a little kitten without a pedigree."

Janus– "I don't know if I'd call him that. Speak of the devil! Thanks for doing the shopping Count Woe-laf! Did you get everything on our list?"

Virgil– "What? If Roman can’t call me that neither can you. Now here’s your food."

Remy– "Hey, wait a minute, what is this?"

Virgil– "Just what it looks like. It's coffee."

Remy – "I've never seen this kind before. Is this Dunkin Donuts?"

Virgil – *rolling his eyes* "Holy fucking shit. It's just Krueger coffee pods. I even got Starbucks brand!”

Everyone– "It's coffee pods?"

Remy – "Whoa! I've heard of this before. It's commoners' coffee. You just place it into a machine."

Steve – "I didn't know there was such a thing."

Brian – "So it's true then. Poor people don't even have enough money to buy Starbucks from Starbucks!"

Chad – "Mm hmm!"

Virgil- “No, it’s just Starbucks coffee pods. For home. It’s convenient you preppy asshats.”

Logan– *winks* "Commoners are pretty smart and convenient."

Roman – "68 cents per pod?"

Patton – "That's a lot less than we normally pay!"

Virgil – "I'll go back and get regular Starbucks. Excuse me for not knowing y’all orders."

Remy – "No, I'll keep it."

Crowd – [Gasp]

Remy– "I'm going to give it a try."

Crowd – [Gasp]

Remy – "I will drink this coffee!"

Crowd – [Applause]

Remy – "Alright Virgil, get over here and make me some of this commoners' coffee."

Virgil– ~I hate all these damn rich people.~

Chad– "Oh Janus, Logan, now they’re taking the joke too far. His palate won't be able to stomach that crap. Y’all don't have to drink it just because he bought it."

Virgil- "With all do respect, what?"

Chad*verychadlike* – "I'm sorry. I was talking to myself."

Virgil– "Bitc-"

Emile– "Virgil!"

Virgil – "Eh, I'm comin'" "Here."

Remy – "Let the tasting begin."

Brian – "I'm a little scared to drink this stuff."

Jon – "I'm afraid if I drink this my father will yell at me."

Roman– "What if I let you drink it from my mouth?"

Jon – "Well then I would drink it."

Guys – [Squealing]

Virgil – ~This is ridiculous.~

(Scene change)

Emile– [Giggle] "So he had a cookie jar hidden in our room."

Patton– "Emile! Don't tell them that story. I asked you not to tell anyone that. Why are you so mean to me?"

Emile– "I'm sorry Patton."

Guys – [Gasp]

Emile – "I didn't mean to upset you, but you were so adorable when it happened, I had to tell them. I'm sorry."

Patton– "I forgive you."

Guys – [Squeal] "I've never seen roommate love quite like that."

Virgil– "What are they so excited about? I just don't get it."

Roman – [dramatic entrance] "Sorry, we're running late."

Jon – "Hello Roman. Hey Remy."

Apollo – "We've been waiting here for you guys, hi"

Roman– "I'm sorry. I was waiting for Remy to finish his party plans and I simply couldn’t leave a man behind! *wrapping his arms around Remy* especially not the handsomest prince in the world!"

Guys – [Gasp] "So cute!" [Giggling]

Virgil– "Is Roman really a prince?"

Logan – "Roman may seem dramatic, but he is a fae prince."

Virgil – "Really? Damn."

Logan– "And then Remy allure is he’s a sassy, coffee-addicted sandman."

Virgil- "Interesting... tell me more?"

Logan- “Well, Emile is a siren. Patton is a Cupid.”

Virgil-*suprised Pikachu face* “seriously?”

Patton– "Vergie!"

Virgil– [Yelp]

Patton– "Hey Virgie, do you want to go have some cookies with me?"

Virgil– "Thanks, but I don't really like cookies."

Emile– "Then how would you like to hold my Stitch?"

Virgil– "I'm not into stuffed animals."

Emile– "Don’t worry! Stitch isn’t a mere stuffed animal! You look stressed. Stitch is enchanted, he brings luck and happiness to the holder.”

Virgil– [Gasp] "Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt?"

Emile and Patton– [Gasp] *REALIZATION!* "Take good care of him, okay?" [Laugh]

Logan– "You'll notice that our club utilizes each man's unique characteristics to cater to the desires of our guests. Just so you know, Janus is number one around here. He's the king. Just don’t tell Roman. Janus’s request rate is 70%."

Virgil- "What's this world coming to? So, what is he?"

Logan- “Janus is a shapeshifter.”

Virgil- “Figures”

Logan– "And in order for you to pay off your 75 thousand dollar debt with us, you will act as the Sides Host Club's errand boy until you graduate. You can try to run away if you want to Virgil, but just so you know, I can find you anywhere you go. By the way, do you have a passport?"

Virgil – "Huh? What does that matter? And how could you find me? You never told me what you are."

Logan: “oh, of course. *smiles slowly, showing fangs.* “I’m a vampire.”

Virgil~eyes widened. Crap. Why does the one I like best have to be the most dangerous?~

Janus – "You're going to have to work hard to pay off that debt, my little emo." [Blow]

Virgil– [Hyperventilating] "Please don't do that again. Fight or flight, I will punch you."

Janus– "You need a makeover or no guys going to look twice at you."

Virgil – "You seem to be looking at me just fine. Besides, I’m not trying to get guys to look at me."

Janus– "Are you kidding me? That's the most important thing. You have to learn to be a gentleman and please the masses, like me."

Virgil– "I just don't think it's all that important."

Janus– "Hm?"

Virgil– "Why should I care about appearances and labels anyway? I mean, all that really matters is what's on the inside right? I don't understand why you even have a host club like this."

Janus– "It's a cruel reality, isn't it?

Virgil– [Grunt]

Janus– "It's not often that God creates a perfect person like moi, beautiful both inside and out."

Virgil– "And vein all around?"

Janus– "I understand how you feel since not everyone is blessed as I am, but you must console yourself. Otherwise how would you go on living? And think about this Virgil. Why do you think they put works of art in museums? Because beauty should be shared with the world, and those born beautiful should-“

Virgil-(~There's a word to describe people like him.~)

Janus- “promote other beautiful things. That's why I started this club in the first place. I did it for those who are-“

Virgil-(~Hmm. What is it?~)

Janus- “starved for beauty. For those working day and night, pursuing beauty. And although

Virgil-(~Aw man, I wish I could remember that word. Hmmm~)

Janus-“your looks may be average, and you have a few negative characteristics, I've chosen to share my expertise with you. Here's a tip. When setting down your glass, extend your pinky finger as a cushion, and that way when you set it down you won't be making a lot of noise. Gentlemen do not make loud sounds. Besides,” Virgil-(~"a pain in the neck"?~)

Janus-“a gentleman looks much more refined”

Virgil-(~No, there's something that fits him perfectly, better than that~)

Janus-“that way. I like to check my reflection.., but above all else ? Virgil, you must remember, how effective a glance to the side can be.”

Virgil- “Ha. I got it!”

Janus-“Oh, did I strike a chord?”

Virgil- You’re Obnoxious!"

Janus*sulking*

Virgil – "Uh, I'm sorry Janus. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings."

Roman and Remy– [Laugh]

Roman– "You're a hero alright."

Remy – "Uh-huh."

Virgil– ~But he is a pain in the neck.~ "I'm sorry Jan, but your lesson did strike a small chord with me."

Janus– "Really? It did? Let me teach you more, my friend."

Virgil– "Well, he got over that quick."

Janus- “Emile!”

Emile – "Boss?"

Janus– "Call me King."

Roman- “Nope, that’s me! Try again.”

Janus- “Fine. Call me Emperor Now where was I?”

Emile– “I think you were wanting to make Virgil a host. You can teach him all the basics of hosting..."

Patton– "But he's not going to get very far with the fellas if he doesn't look the part you know. HE NEEDS A MAKEOVER!!!"

Virgil– "I thought I already vetoed that?"

Roman– "Yes! Maybe if we moved his bangs out of his eyes it could help."

Virgil– "Hey! I happen to like bangs in my eyes! STEP AWAY FROM THE BRUSH! NO!!!"

Remy Attack Virgil with a hairbrush

Remy realization*

Logan– [Gasp] "Remy."

Remy – "Got it!"

Virgil– "Huh? Bitch what the hell is going on??" [Yell]

Roman– "Emile, what’s the number to my hairstylist?“

Patton – "What about me Lolo?"

Logan– "Patton."

Patton– "Yes sir!"

Logan– "You... go make some cookies."

Patton – "Ok! Virgil, what’s your favorite type of cookie?? You know what, I’ll just make them all!"

Remy – "Here! Change into this uniform."

Virgil– "What? Why?"

Remy– "Don't ask questions!"

Virgil– "No way! Screw you! You know what, I'll change, but you have to GET OUT!"

Remy – [Yell] [Stutter] "Huh?"

Logan– [Sigh]

(Scene change)

Virgil– "Um, guys?"

Janus– "Aren't you done changing yet?"

Logan– "Hmmm?"

Virgil– "You sure it's really okay for me to keep this uniform?"

Patton– "Cute! You're super pretty! Adorable!"

Emile– "Verge, you look so cute!"

Roman– "If we had known that's how you really look..."

Remy– "We would've helped you out sooner. You’re actually pretty hot..."

Logan– "Who knows? Maybe he'll draw in some customers. And I agree, he is extremely aesthetically appeasing."

Janus – "You know, that's just what I was thinking. Our errand boy is moving up the ranks. Starting today, you are an official member of the Host Club. I will personally train you to be a first-rate host. If you can get 100 customers to request your service, we will completely forget about your $75,000 debt."

Virgil – "A host? You people are fucking crazy. And I don’t want you to train me. You are an asshole."

Logan- “Janus? Do you mind if I train him? It could be educational.”

Janus- *slightly offended snake sounds* “If you can get the ungrateful, sassy, mean emo to agree, you can train him.”

Logan- “Virgil, can~”

Virgil- “I’ll let the hot nerd train me. I like him.”

Everyone looks between an extremely pleased Logan and a smug Virgil. ‘Interesting’

(Insert fluffy, flirty Analogical scene of Virgil learning how to be a ‘proper host’ and the others spying)

(Scene change)

Alfredo– "So, tell me Virgil. Do you have any hobbies? What do you like to do?"

Herbert– "I'm curious, what kind of products do you use on your skin?"

Boy(I’m running out of Thomas’s male character names)– "Yes, it's so pretty."

Virgil– ~I can't do this anymore. I’m sorry Logan, but I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. And these people are staring to get annoying. And invasive...~

Boys – "So why did you join the Host Club Virgil?" [Giggle]

Virgil– "Uh." ~All I have to do is get 100 customers to request me, and they'll forget about my $75,000 debt. I just have to seem interesting. Oh! I know just the story.~

(Words)

Alfredo – "I see, your brother was sick and passed away two years ago. Who do you bond with now?"

Virgil– "Oh, I‘m just kind of by myself now. My brother was my best friend and confidante, so I found it hard to make friends since he passed. Now all I have is my Uncle, but he is pretty great, and I have managed to make it through okay."

Herbert – "So uh..."

Boy – "Is it okay if tomorrow..."

Alfredo – "We request to sit with you again?"

Virgil– "Yeah, I'd really appreciate that guys. Y’all are great listeners, and I am interested to hear about y’all next time." *smirk*

Boys- [stifled shrieking]

Roman – "Why is he so popular?"

Logan– "He's a natural."

Janus– "Apparently he didn’t even need training."

Chad– "Have you forgotten about me?"

Janus – "Oh, no. Sorry prince. I'm just a little concerned about our newest host."

Chad – "Well that's obvious Jan. You and Logan sure have been keeping an eye on him."

Janus – "Of course. I have to. I need to make sure he a good host, and Logan is training him to be a gentleman."

Boys – [Giggling]

Janus – "Virgil! Come here for a minute."

Virgil– "What's up?"

Janus– "I'd like you to meet someone. This is my regular guest, Prince Chad."

Virgil– [Gasp] ~It's that asshole from earlier~ "Sir, it's a ‘absolute’ pleasure to meet you."

Janus – "That was so cute! That air of bashfulness was very good! Super good! Amazingly good!"

Chad – "Uh, Logan, what is happening?"

Logan– "Virgil is adorable, so Janus is trying to show affection and make Virgil like him better than me."

Virgil– "Roman! Save me!"

Janus – "Nope, mine now!"

Roman– *Whacks Janus with his sword and grabs Virgil bridal style* [Realization Gasp]

Janus– "Damn it Roman, you didn’t have to go that far. Come on little emo, let your best friend give you a big hug."

Virgil– "Ok. Patton! Janus says I need a hug."

Laughing and offended noises, then Patton jumping in Virgil arms for a giant hug. Guests are very amused, and Chad is very pissed

(Scene change)

Virgil-"Hey, what happened to my bag? [looks out window and sees bag in fountain] Uh, are you kidding me? How did that happen? I didn't think there were bullies at this school. I guess those asshats are everywhere. They’re like McDonalds."

Virgil runs towards the fountain

Chad – "Oh! It's you again. I bet you love having Janus and Logan making you over and fawning over you. It's useless though. You're always going to be a second-class citizen.”

Virgil – ~I bet my Tim Burton posters that he is the bastard that threw my bag in the fountain. I can't be bothered with him right now though. I've gotta find my wallet or I won't have any money for food this week.~

Remy– "Hey, tiny emo! You've got some nerve skipping out on the club like that. Why is your bag all wet?"

Virgil– "It's no big deal. I got it. I just can't find my food money."

Remy– "Hm?"

[jumps into the fountain after taking off his sunglasses]

Virgil– "Hey, you don't have to do that. You'll get wet. And why the hell did you only take off your sunglasses? That does nothing!"

Remy – "A little water never hurt anyone. Besides, people are always telling me that I'm dripping with good looks. Oh, hang on a second. This what you're looking for? What's the matter, you're staring off into space. Ooo! Please tell me your falling for me. Because Logan is gonna be pissed! "

Virgil– "No way!"

Remy– "How did your bag end up in the fountain anyway?"

Virgil– "Well uh, I guess I accidentally dropped it out the window at some point."

(Scene change)

Chad – "Oh really? That must've been terrible. I can't imagine what I'd do if my bag fell into the fountain."

Virgil – ~Why did he request me when it's obvious he doesn't like me? He has a plan. Ima end up decking this guy...~

Chad– "And you actually made Remy search that dirty old thing with you. How astonishing! You do realize he's a blueblood and not a commoner, right? The only reason any of them are paying attention to you is because they’re trying to turn you into a gentleman."

Virgil– [Gasp] ~Dis bitch wanna get punched ~

Chad– "Don't start thinking he cares about you just because he's doting on you."

Virgil– "Now I understand. You're jealous of me."

[grabs Virgil’s arm and yanks to where Virgil knocks the table over and lands on top of Chad]

Chad – [Scream] "No, Virgil! Leave me alone! Somebody help, he just attacked me!"

Virgil– "Bitch please."

Chad– "Somebody do something! Teach this commoner a lesson!"

[Emile and Patton dump water on the two]

Virgil– "Honestly, what the fuck is with you guys?"

Chad – "Why did you do that? Do something, Janus. Virgil just assaulted me."

Janus – "I'm disappointed in you. You threw his bag into the fountain, didn't you?"

Chad – "You don't know that. Do you have any proof that I did?"

Remy- “Yeah, babes, we got proof. It’s called we’re not fucking stupid. Or blind.”

Logan– "You know, you're a handsome guy, but you aren't classy enough to be our guest. If there's one thing I know, Virgil is not that kind of a man."

Chad– "But, why? You are all idiots!" [Cry]

Janus– "Hmmm... Now how am I going to punish you? Because it is your fault after all. Your quota is now 1000!"

Virgil– "Huh? 1000? My fault? Why yo-"

Patton– "Come on. I got high expectations for you, kiddo!"

Virgil– "Really?"

Emile– "Yep! This is the only spare uniform we have. Sorry, but it's better than a wet one, right?"

Virgil– "Thanks a lot you guys. I'm gonna go change."

(Scene change)

Janus – "Virgil, here you go. I brought you some towels."

Virgil– [Gasp] “Please get the hell out!”

Janus blanches and leaves

Virgil walks out in the uniform that shows ones supernatural identity tattoo. It shows off storm clouds and lightning, a rare tattoo but one that’s signifies humanity.

Janus– "Virgil."

Virgil– "Yeah?"

Janus– "So, you're a human?"

Virgil– "No shit Sherlock, yeah. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Janus– “No! I think you are awesome even if you’re human. Who else knows?”

Logan, Patton, Emile, Remy, and Roman all raise their hands

Janus-[Scream]

Virgil– "Listen guys, I don't really care whether you recognize me as a human or not. In my opinion, it's more important for a person to be recognized for who they are rather than for what supernatural identity you have."

Everyone nods

Virgil– ([Stammering]) "Uh, you know, I have to say Logan, I thought you were pretty cool earlier."

Logan– [Stammering]

Virgil *blushing*- “Logan, I know that you figured it out as soon as you saw me. Thank you for not saying anything, that was very cool of you.”

Logan *also blushing* -“Ah, umm, ehh, it is no problem. You’re welcome.”

Emile, nudging Patton and both giggling– "Well isn't this an interesting development?"

Roman and Remy – "Oh, yeah."

Janus – "Now, I could be wrong but I think we may be witnessing the beginnings of love here. Can’t believe that nerd stole the hot emo right out from under me with words. Ssssssssuck up!"

Patton- “Janus, kiddo, your name isn’t Jealous.”

Remy- “Yeah! Calm thy snaktitties.”

Roman- “Snake tits. Snake titties. Snitties.”

Roman and Remy- “OH MY GOSH SNITTIES!”

Emile- “Common guys. We are not a love to hate tumblr post.”

Roman and Remy- *chanting* “SNITTIES, SNITTIES, SNITTIES, SNITT-“

Janus- *chasing Roman and Remy around with a broom* “SAY IT ONE MORE DAMN TIME!”

Virgil- “You know, this might be fun, I actually enjoy being a Host...”

Taglist-

@dragonwithproblems

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated

@thefingergunsgirl

@kawaiikat54

@sanders-sides-with-quinn

@007ardra

@yikesdodson

@nerdycupcake559

@softestvirgil

@teacupfulofstarshine

@impatentpending

@star-crossed-shipper

@ravenivy2079

@rainbowemonightmare

@ladyartemisia28

@mushroom-dance-mushroom-dance

@resident-trash-goblin

@parx-boiiz

@ninathepancake

@kuroyurishion

@spideythenewkid

@funkyfreshfatherfigure

@pattoncake-and-eyeshadow

@drewwwbydoobydoo

@sure-i-exist

@sophiexteresa

@glitched-cookie

@wellhellothere09

@seraphlies

202 notes · View notes

dansantat · 5 years ago

Photo

44 (The Annual Birthday Rant)

THE BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT I EVER RECEIVED FROM A STRANGER

What I’m about to tell you all happened about twelve days ago.

I was walking outside of my local grocery store when an African American man approached me. He slowly approached with a wide grin on his face and was dressed in an old brown secondhand suit that was a few sizes too big. Although his physique indicated he was maybe ten to fifteen years older than me he looked much older and worn. He had a story to tell

“Now, I’m not gonna hurt cha,” the man said.

I stood and smiled hesitantly.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

“You probably don’t remember me, but we met before… a few years back.”

I searched through my mind, but found nothing. “Oh really? Where did we meet? A book store event? A school?”

The man stopped his approach. He stood safely about ten feet away.

“We met here.”

My mind still drew a blank.

“Anyway, sir, I don’t want to take up too much of your time…. But I wanted to give you this…”

He reached into the pocket of his oversized suit and slowly pulled out a healthy wad of nicely folded cash.

And then in that instant. I remembered.

It happened two years ago in 2017. I bought groceries and was carrying the bags to my car. A homeless African American man wearing tattered clothes hobbled with a limb over in my direction. He was in rough shape. He clearly hadn’t showered in weeks and his body appeared gaunt, and malnourished.

“Hey, man, I was wonderin’ if you could spare some change?” he asked.

I placed my groceries into the trunk of my car and pulled out my wallet. I had just gone to the ATM because I was going to go out to breakfast with some friends after dropping off the groceries at home.

I pulled out a $20 and gave it to the man. His eyes popped open wide and a huge grin crossed his face. I would typically only give a few dollars in a situation like this, but today was special.

“Aw, thank you, sir, I really appreciate it! God bless!”

Just as he was about to walk away I stopped him.

“Wait,” I hollered, “Hold up.”

The man turned and looked back at me. I paused for a moment thinking about what I was about to do.

“*sigh* Today’s your lucky day.” I said

I opened my wallet and gave him all the cash that was inside.

“Here. Take it all.”

The man was flabbergasted. “Wh-….. What?”

“You look like you need it way more than I do. There’s about $400 here… Just take it.”

“Wh…wh…why are you doing this?” he stammered

I paused for a moment. Was I really doing the right thing? You hear people tell you not to give money to homeless people because they’ll just go use that money to buy drugs or alcohol, but I proceeded with my decision, “It’s my birthday today, and every year I always make it a point to do something special for someone to make their day better, and today you’re the lucky person, I guess.”

The first time I ever decided to be generous on my birthday was at a local car wash on my 35th birthday. Now, I never found much value in the machines that car washing facilities provide. Those contraptions that you would drive your car though to get washed. It was simply a series of spray hoses and soap suds being lazily dragged over your car by a set of waving rags. The real cleaning job was done from the guy after that process. The guy who would drive your car off to a dry corner of the lot and scrub off those tough stains with a spray bottle and a towel. Here in LA, they were most likely illegal immigrants earning a measly wage just enough to get by here in Los Angeles (one of the most expensive cities in the country) The man who cleaned my car that day spent a half hour wiping off the dashboard, and the tires, and even parts of the door joints you wouldn’t normally expect a car wash employee to clean. The guy was cleaning my car better than I would have ever done myself, and when I approached the car it was absolutely immaculate.

The car wash was only $19.

That day, I gave the man $40.

He was so grateful he shook my hand with a smile, and in exchange I felt amazing. I helped make his day a good one and it was an absolutely wonderful feeling.

Ever since then I try to do something kind for someone on my birthday. It’s my gift to myself.

In the years following I would give $40 tips to waitresses, $60 tips to a trio of buskers, I once bought an entire box of candy from a kid who rang my doorbell trying to save up money for camp. That was about $75.

But this was $400. What the hell was I doing?

The man waved off the money. “$400?! That’s too much,” he responded, “I can’t accept all that! A dude gets stabbed on the streets carrying that kind of cash around”

“I want you to have it, and I don’t want to sound rude, but you look like you need this money way more than I do.”

He stood hesitant. His own pride was preventing him from taking the money.

“What are you doing with that much cash on you? You a doctor or something?”

“HAHA! No, but there was a time my parents wished I was.”

The man looked at me with a hint of suspicion.

“You’re crazy. How do you know I’m not gonna go use this to go buy crack or something like that?”

“HA HA! Are you?” I laughed. The thought of the possibility of my own hard earned money being used to buy illegal drugs was somewhat humorous to me at the time.

“N- NO! NO! I won’t! I promise! But are you sure you want to give me all this? I don’t even know you.”

I hesitated, half thinking for a split second that I would perhaps reconsider and just give him an extra $20, but what would an extra $20 do for a man who needed so much more help than that? What if he had enough money to change his course in life if he really wanted to? From that perspective, $400 seemed like just a drop in the bucket.

But maybe it was also a start?

“I’m not sure, but I know that no matter how you got into this situation, I know it’s not because you’re a bad person. You’ve probably just hit a string of bad luck.Hell, for all I know maybe you WILL blow all this money on booze and drugs, I don’t know… But what I am hoping, is that it gives you a chance to get back on your feet if you really want to…”

The man glanced back at the money.

“Take it. No strings attached. Do whatever you want with it. Buy booze or crack or whatever you want with it. I’m not gonna lecture you on how to live your life because, dude, you’re already totally down on your luck and I think that you just deserve a little kindness. You know the mistakes you’ve made and you don’t need to explain yourself to me or anyone. I just thought this money would help make things a little bit easier for you, that’s all.”

The man looked away for a moment. His lower lip trembling. Then he slowly glanced back and took the money.

“Thank you….. God Bless you, sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Take care of yourself.” I replied as he walked away.

The man walked away and never looked back.

Now here we are.

Two years later.

Standing in the same parking lot in front of the same grocery store.

My jaw drops open.

“Holy shit! I remember you! You’re that guy! LOOK AT YOU! I DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU!” I shouted.

“Now you remember me, right!? HA HA!”

This man’s voice once a whisper was now strong and deep as if his lungs consumed every molecule of oxygen around him and projected it out like water from a fire hose. He was no longer gaunt, but healthy, if not slightly overweight. His hair was clean and trimmed, but he still carried himself awkwardly with a shaky newfound confidence that now occupied a body that once resembled a dilapidated house.

“You look amazing! Where have you been!?”

“Aw man, It’s a long story-“

“I’ve got time!”

“Well-“ he hesitated

And then I paused.

“Wait. I’m- I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just want you to know that I’m really REALLY proud of you, man. I know we don’t know each other, but dude, you’ve completely changed. I don’t even recognize you. You look amazing.”

There was an awkward pause in our conversation. We were like two friends who had just reunited after a long absence, but suddenly also realized at that moment that we were also two complete strangers who knew nothing about one other. The man took a deep breath, “I’ve been coming around to this grocery store every now and then hoping I would run into you…I’d stand out here waiting for you for a half hour or so hoping you’d come by to buy groceries… I wanted to thank you for the kindness you showed me a few years back and… and I wanted to finally pay you back.”

He grabs my hand and presses the nicely folded bills into my hand. The folds and creases tell me they’ve been sitting folded like this for quite a while.

“$400. Every cent of it.”

“Hey, you don’t need to do this. It was my pleasure. I’m glad the money helped, you can keep it.” I reply.

“Well… “ he paused, “I don’t want it. Too many painful memories from it.. That day you gave me that money I took it and I used it all to get high.”

“Oh…Shit… I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have-”

“And afterwards there were some more really rough months after that. I felt so ashamed. I hated myself and I didn’t wanna live no more so one day I couldn’t take it anymore and I went over to the Colorado Street Bridge and I was gonna climb the fence and jump off…. I was gonna kill myself and end it all… but I chickened out.”

(FYI, The Colorado Street Bridge is the bridge you see in the movie, LA LA LAND)

“Man, I was so scared, and I was crying on the ground and I was thinking about my wife leavin’ me… and how I let my son down, and now he had his own son.. you see, I’m a grandfather, and I got so messed up I couldn’t be around any of them, you know?”

Meanwhile, my groceries were sitting in the hot car. My milk was going to go bad, but I continued to hang on to his every word.

“So shortly after that incident the cops pick me up off the side of the bridge and they take me to this local homeless shelter. I get cleaned up, I get a little something to eat, and then later on that evening they gathered us all around in the cafeteria at one point and they read us this story called, After the Fall.”

I was shocked.

“Wait... What? That’s my book.” I responded

“Yeah, I know! The book changed my life, man! Humpty Dumpty finding the courage to change his life like that? It inspired me! It made me want to change! And so I see your name on the cover and one day I went to the library with my social worker to look up more of your books and I see your picture in one of the books and I thought, HOLY SHIT! That’s the guy who gave me the $400! I recognize those eyebrows from anywhere! This is a sign from God!”

“HAHAHA!”

“So, I’m getting’ all psyched up and inspired and the social worker helped me get me a sponsor, and after a while I got myself cleaned up and started working around town. I used to be a carpenter, and I was doin’ odd jobs here and there and so now I work at a hardware store.”

He pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath.

“You see, I got myself a work related injury years ago and I had to stop working. Then when my insurance wore out I was still in pain and I started trying to find any kind of drugs I could to help with the pain, man. It was awful. I got addicted to painkillers, over time it cost me my marriage, I lost my house, and my kid moved away and he started a family of his own…. I haven’t seen my kid in years. They all wanted to help but you can only be helped if you want to be helped, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry to hear that, man”

The man begins to cry a little

“And I knew they cared about me, but…. But I let them down, and there’s just a point when the people you love just can’t stand seeing you hurt yourself no more, and they couldn’t stand watching me tear myself apart like that, you know?”

The man’s story cuts me like a knife. I’m starting to well up with tears. We’re now two strangers crying in front of each other in the middle of a grocery store parking lot. The manager of the grocery store who I see often sees us crying outside

“Is everything okay here guys?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, We’re good. We’re just talking,” I rapidly answer as I wipe tears from my cheek. The manager walks back inside.

“…Uh… Weird question… You know my name now, but, do you mind if I ask you your name?”

“…I’m Randall.”

“Well, I’m glad you got your life back together, Randall. I’m sorry about all that stuff that happened with your family but I think what you accomplished with getting your life back together was huge and, I mean, I don’t know you, but man, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, brother. I just wanted to see you in person so I could give you back that money… oh, and I was hoping you could sign this for me….”

Randall reaches inside his oversized brown suit and pulls out a copy of After the Fall and hands it to me with a pen.

“I’ve been carrying this around with me for a few months now hoping I’d see you. The shelter gave it to me. Would you mind signing it?” he asks.

“I’d be honored, Randall… Do you want me to make it out to you?”

“Please make it out to Randall the Third”

“Wait… your grandson?”

“I’m going out to see my son and his family next week. They live out in Arizona.”

“That’s amazing. Are you nervous?”

“I’m excited to see my grandson, but I’m terrified I could screw things up with my family again.” Randall mutters.

“Well, you made it this far. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just take it one step at a time.” I reply.

“Just like Humpty did. One step at a time.” says Randall.

I sign the book...

To Randall III, Your grandfather is a true inspiration to me.

Dan Santat

“Thank you, God bless.”

“No, Randall, thank you. This was the most amazing birthday gift I think I’ve ever received.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday today?!”

“No, it’s in twelve days. Heh… it’s when my milk expires”

“Oh shit. I should let you get going man, I’m sorry I took up all your time!”

“No, man. No! I’m so glad you did this and that we could catch up... and…. Here.”

I pull out the $400 and I hand it back to Randall.

“What are you doin?”

“I know you don’t need this, so I’m not giving you this money. Get something nice for your family, you know, a housewarming gift or something, that’s all. If you ever want to pay me back you know where to find me.”

In this parking lot.

In front of this grocery store.

“Use it to buy a huge ass teddy bear for Randall the Third. Shit get him a Playstation 4 or something I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned you worked so hard to get where you are now and you earned every cent of this. This money should be yours”

“HA HA HA! Aw sheeeeeeit….Thank you, brother.”

I grab Randall’s hand and I place the nicely folded wad of cash into his palm.

“Well, I should get goin’…” Randall says.

“Yeah, me too.”

Then after a few quiet moments we exchange a hug.

“Thank you, Dan Santat…. God Bless you.” Randall whispers

“Take care” I reply

We complete our goodbyes and then head off in our own opposite directions.

I’ve received lots of amazing gifts over my 44 years, but never one as incredible as the rebirth and transformation of Randall.

Peace.

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cherry3point14 · 4 years ago

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Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Other than worrying about being killed, not much. Word count: 3,566. Chapter Summary: You never know where those pesky boys will show up. A/N: Sometimes I put things in that I think no one will ever notice. This chapter has one.

Ao3 if you prefer

“My imminent…?” You're stuck at your desk whispering to yourself. Every inch of you frozen in place so completely that you can’t do anything except stare at the cream folder in your hands like it might be a bomb. As if the last five seconds have started ticking away and you have to choose which wire to cut.

It must have been a mistake. There was no way you were going to… die. Soon anyway. You couldn’t be… how could a folder kill you? Forget about the voice in your head that knew your secrets, how could this card and paper in your hands kill you?

This whole thing. This day. It must be a fever dream or a very vivid daydream. Of course, the voice knew your secrets because it was all a figment of your own imagination.

Imagination or not suddenly you were hoping to hear anything, answers to any of the questions buzzing about your head. It would be so much easier if you could hear the answers. The voice, that stupid godforsaken voice, it had done this to you, so it could fix it. But now that your fate had apparently been sealed everything was achingly silent.

“Answer me.” You finally move, leaning into the folder with a stern command but your voice cracks before you start.

Silence, except the normal office din. Phones ringing and fingers tapping away on keyboards but the voice stayed quiet.

You drop the file on your desk, not out of choice but because your hands start shaking if you get close to opening it. Though you are loath to admit it, the voice was right. Something about today and this file, in particular, feels different. Could different be enough to make everything true? If it's true can you stop it? You don’t know the impossible danger you’re trying to avoid. Although yesterday you'd have said a voice in your head was impossible, let alone dying tomorrow.

You wouldn’t open it then. How could something hurt you if you didn’t engage? You could put the folder in the back of a filing cabinet somewhere and never look at it again. Or you could shred the thing. Coerce Laura into shredding it for you? You could convince her she’s not doing anything wrong. This could be one case that got lost in processing—the client will get paid out because the company failed to investigate and you’ll go on breathing. Everyone’s a winner.

“Oh good, you got twenty-four zero one.” Your manager appears, hovering over you, coffee in one hand as he reads out the files’ label number.

“What?”

He takes an exaggerated sip, like a bad Folgers commercial, before explaining himself. “I thought you could use a little treat is all.”

“Treat? A treat?” You splutter; exasperated and unbelieving. The file might be your end and he thought this was a treat? “I’m sorry, why is this a treat?”

Your office was not normally a place for dramatics. You yourself were not normally one for dramatics. It was only of the many reasons your boss liked you so today he ignores your sarcastic, borderline angry tone. He doesn’t make assumptions about your attitude, he simply chooses not to hear your tone at all.

He winks, “it’s right up your street.”

You almost dry heave, barely choking it back. “I’ve got to go.”

“What?” He parrots, glancing at the clock on the wall reading 9:15 before turning back to you, your laptop not even switched on for the day.

“I’m sorry Mark, really I am.” You hastily stuff your laptop into your bag. Followed by your phone. Pausing only a second after throwing the bag on your shoulder to decide if you should take the case file, before finally hugging it to your chest. Losing the file would be worse than taking it with you. “I’m feeling under the weather. I-I thought I would be ok but I think I should have stayed home this morning.”

There’s an air of patronizing manly-ness in the way he looks at you, “o-oh well. I appreciate you trying to make the effort.”

There’s no time to argue against Mark’s casual sexism, you have to get out of here, quickly. “I’ll work from home for today. Sorry, again.”

He doesn't get a chance to say anything as you make your way erratically to the exit. Some desks you clip the corners of as you swerve to avoid people, plants, even the printer finds itself in your way.

Laura gets out a questioning, “Y/N?” before you’re back in the elevator you’d only recently vacated. The doors close behind you while you try to calm your racing heartbeat.

No getting rid of the evidence then. Mark knows you have the file now. Even if you hadn’t taken it with you he’d seen it at your desk, in your hands, he chose to give this to you. Obviously Mark has no idea he’s signed your death warrant with whatever was inside. It’s not even the first time he’s given you that dumb wink and treated you to cases he thought you’d enjoy. Like the time he had you go investigate the fire at that bakery because, quote, ‘you love pastries’.

The drive home is as silent as the rest of your life had been yesterday. You turn off the radio in case the voice cames back with more information but it doesn't. Which means the soundtrack to your journey is the clunky engine sound, again. You absolutely needed to take your car to the garage, but who has the time with imminent death hanging over their head?

It’s 9:45 when you scuttle back into your house, bag in hand, and still clinging to the file like hiding it in your chest will make it disappear. You’ve only been out of the house for an hour but there’s something eerie about being back so soon. It’s almost like you’re interrupting your house’s private time. You’re not supposed to be here now and the dust bunnies hanging in the air seem disturbed by your presence.

There’s no time to dwell on the eerie presence of your usually comforting home. You put everything on your table and look around. Half hoping some insane stalker comes out of the woodwork with the exact voice you’ve been hearing. Unfortunately, that’s too easy.

Then you go back to the sofa. Yes, that’s where it had started. Your half-drunk tea is still on the coffee table where you’d been rushing to get to work. Instead of taking the mug into the kitchen you fall into the seat and pick up the cold cup. You have no intention of drinking it but you’re hoping for a miracle. If you do the mundane things she had taken so much pleasure in narrating earlier then can you force her to come back?

Although you sit there for a few minutes it’s painfully obvious after a few seconds that nothing is going to happen.

And then you remember the folder. The new bane of your existence. What if the only way out of this is to keep going? One step forwards, two steps back.

Maybe you have to open the folder that your narrator—there isn’t another name for them at this point—seemed so interested in earlier. Maybe rushing out of the office hadn’t been what she wanted, so she had nothing to say.

You were going to open it eventually anyway. It’s your job and you couldn’t live with not knowing.

There's a glimpse of Manilla on the table in front of you, trapped under your purse. The voice had called it innocuous earlier and the description is apt. It is the next folder of thousands that you will ever hold. Unless, of course, it’s your last. If it’s your last then that explains why this one feels heavier than it looks as you slide it free.

Once it’s in your lap you frown at it. Mentally preparing yourself. For the voice or the contents, it doesn’t matter, either way, you try your best to steady your breathing. Despite your reverence, as you flip the cover open, the first page is exactly what you expect to find: a summary of the claim, dollar amounts, and beneficiary details. And your head still stays silent.

You could get angry. You could shout and plead to whatever cruel twist of fate decided today was the day that you'd go insane. Anger won't change anything though. Screaming won't get your answers. But, your work is something you know how to do. It's always been a safety net, if not a little dull.

Yes, you could get angry, but there’s a file in your lap that needs investigation. The same as all the other claims you've ever closed. And now that you’re in this ridiculous situation, caught between crazy and scared, you only had two options. The first was to ignore the situation—return to bed with that half bottle of wine in your fridge and wait for something to break down your door and kill you. The second was to continue to do your job and ignore that everything in your life is absurd right now.

Those two options aren't options at all because you're not quite ready to start drinking before noon. Which leaves carrying on with your life. Mark was right about one thing anyway, it is right up your street. Well, a couple of streets over anyway.

You knock on the door and wait. The red paint is curling and peeling at the edges. The ‘5’ in ‘75’ is slightly askew, but nothing else is out of place. Even those small things you only notice because you’re waiting on the doorstep staring at them. There’s sound inside the house, like muffled voices and then footsteps before the door bursts open.

“Hello?” The woman seems agitated already, which usually doesn’t happen until after you introduce yourself.

“Hello. My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m here on behalf of First National insurance. Are you Margret Hall?”

“Call me Maggie. Yes but…”

“I understand that you recently filed a claim with us for….”

“For my dead husband, yes, but what about the two guys who are already here?”

You can’t help your flinch at ‘dead husband’. In life insurance cases you always try to use tactful language even if it's the spouses or family who cut to the chase. Still, that’s not the part of what she said that’s worrying.

“Excuse me? There’s somebody already here?” Hope surges through you at the prospect of being mistaken. You have the wrong case, the wrong file, you’re not going to die. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I have two guys here now.”

Two guys? The company never sends two men to do one woman’s job. Especially not on a run of the mill claim like this. You slump your shoulders a little, deflated. It's your own fault for hoping.

“They’re still here?”

The woman grimaces in a way that tells you she wants to roll her eyes but she’s resisting. Instead, she purses her lips before she looks back into her home to confirm. Her answer is dripping with sarcasm, “still at the table where I left them.”

You’ve had worse from a widow—you’ve had screeching and accusations—and you let all that go because it’s a difficult time. So, when Maggie Hall twists her face and offers you her bored cynicism it's easy to not see it. You are more focused on the suspicious situation instead.

“Can I meet them?” You lower your voice because you don’t know how close they are to where you’re standing. “I, eh, just want to make sure they have all the correct information if they’re taking over.”

That's a lie. You don’t want to scare the poor woman by telling her she has a couple of strangers in her house but she definitely has. The claim file is reassuringly tucked under your arm. It is your proof, it’s your shield against their criminal behavior, their lies.

You’re so distracted by the drama of the situation that you seem to have forgotten, momentarily, that you’d be more than happy to be wrong . Overjoyed even. You’d quite like Harry and David from the office to be sitting there with an identical file offering you an escape. Yet you know they won’t be, because this has never happened before. There’s never a duplicate file. There’s never more than one adjuster accidentally sent. Until the voice in your head offers more information there’s no getting out of this.

Then you allow yourself to be distracted. You treat the situation seriously because it is serious. While you can’t imagine why anyone would want to pretend to be an insurance adjuster, for some reason these two men are. The best you can hope for is that the strangers are as dull and harmless as the men who genuinely work in your office.

Maggie, who is only a decade older than you to have lost her husband, steps back and finally ushers you inside with a tight-lipped smile.

Two men are sitting at her round kitchen table with their backs to you as she shows you in. They’re whispering and leaning into each other for their secret conversation. If you didn’t know any better you’d swear you hear the words ‘silver knife’, which only perpetuates the criminal label you’ve already assigned them.

“Hello.”

They both turn their heads to look at you, startled by a new voice. Then they stand up in unison causing their chairs to scrap against the kitchen floor. They are definitely not the soft, unassuming men that you hoped to find.

You want to stand your ground and keep your body language confident but your hand still creeps into your purse as you puff out your chest . Fingers searching blindly for your phone while you speak. “I’m from First National insurance. I’m here to investigate Mrs. Hall's claim but she said someone was already here.”

They have excellent poker faces, you’ll give them that at least. If you had to read anything it’d be a small hint of panic from the taller one and a flash of anger from the shorter one, like an animal backed into a corner . But their reactions are instantly hidden under steeled expressions so you can’t be sure if your elevated heart rate is making you see things . It dawns on you then how stupid a plan it was to try and seem imposing to these two behemoth men who fill up the entire room. Would you even be able to dial 911 without taking your phone out? There’s a pause before the taller guy runs his hand through his hair nervously , “that’s a crazy mix up, huh?”

His attempt at friendly casualness bolsters the last shred of confidence you are clinging to . He’s nervous because he knows he’s been caught, which means that you are right.

“It would be if I had ever seen you two around the office.” You narrow your eyes at them and open your mouth, ready to unmask them for the imposters they are.

Mrs. Hall chooses this moment to decide that three uninvited insurance adjusters are two too many .

“Can someone explain what the hell is going on?”

Tall guy is quick on the draw and jumps on the opportunity to run. “I’m very sorry Mrs. Hall it looks like there was a mix up at the office. We’re going to head back now and straighten this out but we’ll leave you in the capable hands of… um… our colleague here.”

They’re already walking. Taking big strides with their long legs and your widow is glad to guide them out. Your fingers finally wrap around your phone securely and you protest as best you can. “You don’t even know my name. Why were you…?”

A deep and unsettling emotion brewed within Y/N as she watched them leave, one she didn’t ever remember feeling ever before. She might not have a name for it but knew that this was one of those important moments. The ones that stories are written for, that songs are created about, the kind of moment that changes a life.

“Oh for the love of God, not now.”

She was, of course, absolutely right. Her life had changed as soon as she’d opened her eyes that morning. Knocking on this particular door was not a choice made for her by her boss or even herself, it was destiny. She could never go back to a time before she crossed this threshold and in time she wouldn’t want to. Although at this moment—trying to stop these strangers from leaving like she’s a detective in one of her mystery novels—she doesn’t realize what’s happening. All Y/N knows is that feeling in her stomach. The glaring klaxon sound echoing in her head. The icy determination that has locked her chin into an unwavering line. All Y/N knows is that these men broke the rules that dictate her life. If they could so effortlessly disrespect her tenuous sense of self, then there was no limit to the heinous crimes these madmen might commit. She had to stop them.

You’re only dazed for a second by the implication that you might, at some point, not regret any of this, or them. It's enough time for them both to make it to the door. The taller one is quick to open it, ready to make his escape. “Wait! What were you doing here?”

It’s the shorter one, although shorter is all relative when he still towers over you, who spares you a frustrated glance before he leaves. “Above your pay grade, sweetheart.”

And then the door closes. Maggie finally rolls her eyes as if she’s been waiting a lifetime to do it, except the action is not at you, it’s with you. Their rude and haste exit has catapulted her firmly onto your team.

The door tried it's very best to separate her from the strangers she’d just met. It stood as opaquely as it could in the hopes that, without the visual aid, she might forget they had existed. It tried, oh, how the door tried to divert her attention from the unknown men who could be terrible, rule-breaking influences on her. However the door was only wood and she was a stubborn woman made of free will and limbs—a woman who refused to be deceived.

Your hand is on the doorknob before the mention of your limbs has finished rattling around your head. Realistically you don’t want to encourage the voice by doing what it says. After all, the voice's ultimate goal seems to be killing you. It’s just your need to open the door goes deeper than your fear of the voice. The voice isn’t proven yet. It could still be a psychosis or a brain tumor. Those men are concrete. Real dangers that you can chase down and confront. Or at the very least you can see what direction they head off into. That would be good information for the police.

The doors of a black muscle car slam at the same moment that you step outside again, phone in hand. The engine revs loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood of their exit. The police will never get here on time so you do the next best thing. You snap a picture of their big, noisy car and make a mental note of the license plate in case the picture’s blurred.

Watching the unknown car hurtle into the dusky, afternoon daylight felt like an ending. The proverbial full stop in a sentence she hadn't been finished with. Were it any other day, any other encounter, then Y/N might be right about this ending. Perhaps this might have been an intriguing story to recount to her coworkers in the office. A fable to paint herself as the insurance adjusting sheriff around these parts. She scared off the bad guys. However, this was not any other day and those were not any other bad guys. In fact, one of them would change her life.

It was hard enough typing the license plate into your notes app while the voice distracted you. Impossibly you manage to note down the Ohio plate to go with your hasty picture.

Googling that would be something for later, for now, you had a whole other job to do. Something simple and easy. Something you knew how to do in your sleep.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Hall, I mean Maggie, let’s get these questions answered so First National can stop sending people around . Huh?”

Contine to Chapter 3.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

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sixohsixoheightfourtwo · 5 years ago

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youtube

who likes comPLETEly wild 1940s technicolor noir films?? is that you?? Please in that case watch DESERT FURY, a totally bonkers 1947 melodrama set somewhere in nevada. The Nitrate Diva posted about it on twitter, saying it “must be seen to be believed” and I simply Cannot turn down such a recommendation.

in Desert Fury: the world’s oldest 19 yr old student Paula (Lizabeth Scott, who’s sort of lauren bacall-like) comes home to the desert town of ‘chuckawalla’ where her mother Fritzi (Mary Astor) runs casinos (and i think also brothels??). Meanwhile racketeer EDDIE BENDIX (budget clark gable john hodiak) and his ‘pal’ johnny (wendell corey) blow into town .... and Paula, for some reason, Falls In Luv or something with him. It’s based on a story by Ramona Stewart written for the glossy womens’ magazines when she was still in college. so you KNOW it’s gonna be OTT idfic.

On a formal level the actual best things about this are probably the Cinnamon Tography — glorious technicolor etc, actual location shooting in arizona, luridly bright — and the miklos rozsa score. Also Edith Head’s costumes: Lizabeth Scott gets approximately 9000 high-glam outfit changes; the film is clearly designed as a star vehicle for her.

on an INFORMAL level.... it is an amazingly weird ride. Eddie turns out to be an old boyfriend of her mother Fritzi. Fritzi’s treatment of her daughter veers towards queasily pseudo-incestuous — calling Paula ‘baby’ all the time (UGH!), insisting Paula calls her by her first name, because ‘mother’ is ‘cold’ and not ‘companionable’. Burt Lancaster is ... also here, hating every second he’s in this film as Paula’s dumbass rodeo-champ-turned-cop love interest. (this was literally the second film he shot, he apparently thought it was total crap but had to do it as he was under contract. his best scenes tbh are with Mary Astor)

Oh and Paula mysteriously resembles Eddie’s DEAD WIFE .... which is why he’s interested in her. And his wife died under Suspicious Circumstances. And people keep slapping each other in the face.

But also — eddie bendix and his pal johnny ryan .... are Gay. OK no, eddie is bisexual. Any time they’re in a scene together they’re framed together, presented as a duo. sometimes they are shirtless drinking tea together. they have lived and worked together for years and years. How did they meet? according to eddie.... johnny picked him up at 2am in times square:

It was in the automat off Times Square about two o’clock in the morning on a Saturday. I was broke. He had a couple of dollars. We got to talking. He ended up paying for my ham and eggs… I went home with him that night… We were together from then on.

hello? hello??

ok so there’s a line about how there was a spare room at his mother’s boardinghouse or w/ever but it feels v much thrown in to appease censors.

Paula and Eddie start their affair and there are some great scenes where johnny is initially apparently NOT threatened by eddie having a girlfriend... and then realises what’s up and tries to separate them. the tone is v much — I’m really just paraphrasing his dialogue here — johnny’s been with him for 15 years, he’s outlasted other women, women don’t want to know the Real Eddie, unlike johnny. johnny keeps calling eddie ‘good-looking’. It’s the 1940s and J and E are the Bad Guys ... so no spoilers but it doesn’t end well for them, altho Johnny is the most sympathetic character in this film and you can fight me about it. But for about 75 minutes you get so caught up in trying to figure out how this film has a functional gay couple that you forget the Hays Code exists.

There’s a clip on youtube of Eddie Muller (a critic who specialises in noir) introducing a screening of Desert Fury — he calls it “the gayest movie I have ever seen coming out of Hollywood in the 1940s . . . the relationship between John Hodiak and Wendell Corey in this film is sort of not to be believed”. He also has them at #2 on his list of “Film Noir’s Top 10 (Maybe) Gay Couples” (first is John Dall and Farley Granger in Rope — and they really WERE gay).

anyway there u have it. quarantimes film rec: DESERT FURY, 1947. I watched it on a second-hand spanish-language DVD because there’s no UK release. It's on dvd/bluray in the US. u can probably also find it thru... other channels idk I didn’t look

#FILM #noir #desert fury #film rec #Someone write a fanfiction fixing the last 10 minutes of this film.#john hodiak #wendell corey #burt lancaster #lizabeth scott #mary astor #long post

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years ago

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Cinderella of Chicago Chapter 1: The Ball

His outfit was sheer genius. The wings could actually lift and wave, and fold back to their resting position smoothly and silently. They worked on servos he’d spent way too much for, but it was worth it. You couldn’t even see him toggle the switch that controlled them, because it fit perfectly within his palm. Brilliant.

Not only that, but the workmanship on the suit itself was perfect. His Baba had asked no questions, just taken the pictures he’d given her, drawn up a pattern, and sewed holy hell out of it. It fit like a glove and made him look pretty damn good, if he did say so himself. He’d had to make a few concessions here and there on fabric and trim, mostly because the real suit was undoubtedly butter-soft leather that cost about a million dollars a yard, but he’d done superbly there, too. Well worth the number of days off he’d spent haunting every fabric store in greater Chicago.

Which is why Brian Zvonecek could not be blamed for maniacally bouncing his foot and checking the clock every seven seconds as he sat ignoring the morning talk show on the common room TV, waiting for this shift at Firehouse 51 to end. When ChicagoCon started in approximately three hours, he planned to be there, and he planned to be the best Sumendi anyone had ever seen. Including, hopefully, Anthony Lang, the guy who actually played Sumendi in all three movies, and was going to be on a panel talking about the upcoming movie that would have all the Planetary Saviors in it. Brian couldn’t wait.

************

At this stage of her nursing career, not much bothered Meg Armstrong, but this was a bunch of shit. Literally, the largest amount of feces she’d ever seen, which had issued from a homeless woman who had come in to Chicago Med’s Emergency Room after not being able to “go boom-boom” (her phrase) for a week. Well, they’d solved that problem. And now, here was Meg, four years of college and fifty thousand dollars in student loans later, dealing with the aftermath of their success.

At least her shift was almost over. The minute she had Mrs. Carlsberg cleaned out and cleaned up, she could, at long last, catch the El to her friend Karen’s apartment where the girls were meeting to get ready for ChicagoCon. After all the planning and all the work to make it, Meg was dying to put on all the pieces of her Tabiti costume and hit Rosemont.

************

The hall was huge. Actually, if Brian was being honest with himself, it was a little overwhelming. Half of Chicago was here, and a good third of them were in costume. He’d get used to the crowd, and the more people in costume the better, because he knew he looked good. He’d already lost count of the number of people who’d asked for permission to take his picture, or to be in selfies with him. He graciously agreed every time, while his roommate Joe Cruz rolled his eyes and made annoyed faces. Well, Cruz could be getting this kind of attention if he’d chosen to dress up, but he’d absolutely refused. So there he was, wearing a T-shirt and jeans and absolutely invisible next to Brian.

“C’mon, Otis, we’re not gonna get a good place in line for the panel.”

Brian accepted yet another high five on his costume and joined Cruz for the short walk to join the throng in front of the doors to the main auditorium. The panel wasn’t for another hour at least, but if they didn’t get in line now, they’d have lousy seats. Brian wanted to be sure to get great pictures and – although he didn’t admit it to Cruz – he hoped someone on the panel would notice that he was looking crazy good as Sumendi.

For the next hour, Brian and Cruz stood cheek by jowl with an odiferous mass of Planetary Saviors fans, many in costume. There were a fair number of Sumendis, but none that could approach Brian’s costume, even without the real, working wings. Unfortunately, there weren’t many women in the vicinity of Brian and Cruz to make the wait more enjoyable. There were a few mediocre Tabitis and one group of all the female Planetary Saviors, but they were all too young to be interesting.

Being taller, Cruz could see further into the crowd. He mentioned a few particularly cool costumes, but Brian couldn’t see them. It would be easier to check out the costumes when they were released from the horde into the auditorium. For now, he was stuck among a mostly-male group of younger fans, all of whom smelled like they needed either a shower or a lesson in moderation when applying Axe body spray. He wished he was wearing his SCBA apparatus. It would’ve ruined the look of his costume, of course, but no one could really see it in this crush, anyway.

At last, the doors opened and Brian and Cruz were propelled into the auditorium by a suddenly frenzied mob, having all they could do to keep upright. But they had a plan. Cruz was pretty big, and could use his arms and elbows to basically swim through the crowd. All Brian had to do was stay tucked right behind him, and Cruz would get them to the front. Which he did with a minimum amount of elbowing teenagers and a very clever “accidental” de-helmeting of a Boba Fett.

***************

Meg and her friends were not as successful, mostly because they didn’t have a plan beyond “get great seats”, and they didn’t feel like waiting in a huge, jostling melee for the auditorium doors to open. Still, they got in for the panel and had seats. They counted that as success, especially since all five women were seated together. Karen was determined to get to ask Ken Terhune, who played Sumendi’s wicked brother, Adranos, a question. He was so hot, she was sure she would have an instant orgasm if he actually spoke to her, and she was going to do whatever it took to make that happen.

The first thing she’d done to get his attention was to come dressed as Afi, wife of Adranos. Another thing she’d done was to make sure that her boobs looked spectacular in her Afi costume. Not that much of her boobs were in her Afi costume, but that was kind of the point.

While they waited for the panel to start, the women looked around the auditorium, admiring all the costumes and looking for cute guys. Liz saw one cute guy, right down front, in a really great Sumendi costume. She elbowed Meg and pointed.

“Look over there! That guy’s Sumendi is almost as good as your Tabiti! You should totally get a picture with him,” Liz told Meg.

“Whoa! That is a good costume. He’s cute, too. But I’m not going down there. What would I say? ‘Hey, dude, I see we’re dressed as a couple, so let’s get our pictures taken together?’ I’d die of embarrassment.”

“Then I’ll say it. You look really good, and it doesn’t look like he has a Tabiti with him. Come on.”

“Not happening, Liz. Thanks, though. Hey, look over there. Is that dude supposed to be a zombie from The Walking Dead?”

“I don’t think so. I think he just needs to eat some vegetables or something.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Highly.”

*******************

“Cruz, Cruz… look at that Tabiti up there!”

“Whoa, dude, she’s checkin’ you out, too. You should go meet her.”

“I can’t go meet her – we gotta… protect these seats.”

“You’re such a weenie, Otis.”

“Are you really willing to give up these primo seats just to - Oh! They’re starting!”

**************

The panel was awesome. Nobody on the panel said anything about Brian’s outstanding costume, but he was sure they saw him. Both Brian and Cruz were hoping to get picked to ask their questions, which would have given Brian a perfect opportunity to show off his Sumendi wings, but that didn’t happen, either. Still, it was a great panel. Well worth the hassle of getting in and getting these seats.

After the panel, it was time to cruise the main exhibition hall. That was going to take some time and coordination, because Anthony Lang was going to be signing autographs and taking pictures at three O’clock, and Brian had pre-paid for his photo op. He was not going to miss out on that. Cruz had thought that the $75 price tag was too high, but that was ridiculous. How could you put a price on getting your picture taken with the real Sumendi?

***********

Meg and her friends needed a break after the excitement of the panel. They’d do the Exhibition Hall, but right now coffee was a must. Karen was bummed that she didn’t get to ask her question, and that Ken Terhune hadn’t commented on her Afi costume (or her boobs). But they all thought a little caffeine would fix her right up.

They’d been right, and for a while, they’d had a great time shopping the booths and checking out the costumes. But after lunch, Susan and Lita were getting a little tired of the Con. The others wouldn’t say it out loud, of course, until after they’d gone home, but Susan and Lita weren’t really “fans” so much as just there for the experience itself. Maybe Susan and Lita wouldn’t even understand that was an insult. But best not to say it out loud anyway.

“Come on, you guys, we’re only halfway done with the Hall! We’re never gonna see everything if we take another break,” Meg urged, pulling on Lita’s arm.

“We’re getting smoothies. We’ll meet you after. We know the pattern you’re following around the Hall, we’ll just find you.” And just like that, Susan and Lita ducked into the crowd and were gone, leaving Meg, Karen, and Liz (wearing a Sumendi T-shirt, which was closer to being in costume than her friends had thought they’d get) to shop the rest of the booths.

The next booth they came to sold nothing but hoodies – from traditional ones printed with pictures and logos from all sorts of fantasy franchises to ones with attachments on the hoods that made you look like your favorite character. They spent a long time looking through them all, especially trying to find one with Adranos’s crown in Karen’s size. They were ultimately successful, and she waited in line to pay more than Meg ever would have for it. Liz continued to hunt through every hoodie with a Dr. Who theme, afraid she would miss The One if she didn’t look at every single one to make sure she hadn’t missed a design.

Meg’s feet were starting to hurt in Tabiti’s signature stiletto-heeled red boots, so she took the opportunity to lean against one side of the booth so she could stand on one foot at a time, giving the other a rest.

“That is an outstanding costume,” a voice at her ear said.

Meg turned to face the cute guy in the really good Sumendi costume they had seen at the panel.

“Oh, hi,” she stammered, immediately embarrassed at the overzealous squeal in her voice. ��Yours is great, too. I saw you, at the panel. It’s really… great.” Could I be more of an idiot?

“Thanks. Your headpiece is awesome. Isn’t that heavy?” He asked. They had to practically shout to be heard over the jostling, milling throng hemming them in. But it was worth it. Brian couldn’t believe his luck finding the Tabiti they’d seen at the panel, who was even cuter up close.

“It isn’t that bad,” Meg answered, self-consciously touching her headpiece and knocking a shower of glitter onto her shoulder. “It’s papier-mâché, mostly. So not that heavy. You can, you know, touch it. If you want.”

Brian touched Meg’s headpiece, knocking on it a little with his finger. “Wow. I’d swear it was metal, from a distance.” From a distance? Nice one, moron. She’s gonna punch you.

“Thanks. What did you use for the red streaks in your hair?”

“That? That’s natural.”

Meg laughed, but then began to cough as she inhaled a bit of spit down the wrong tube. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Kill me now. You, Aquaman over there, if you could just impale me with your trident, that would be great. He’s gonna think I have fucking tuberculosis.

The problem was that he had smiled. This Sumendi, who was pretty cute to begin with, and had made a very funny joke, had smiled after he said it. And his smile was… electrifying. He had gorgeous, white teeth and, with his dark hair and dark eyes, and the little moustache and soul patch he wore (which Meg usually hated), it was just… well, it was enough to make her choke on her own spit like the gargoyle she was.

He patted her on the back. “You gonna be OK? I’m a firefighter. If you need CPR, just say the word.”

Meg flapped her hands around, trying to signal that she would be OK, and desperately tried to control her cough. She could feel the tears smearing her mascara and knew for a fact her face was beet red. Yeah. Some Tabiti. She’s supposed to hold Sumendi spellbound with her charms, which I’m dead certain don’t involve hacking up a lung at his feet.

“I’m… I’m OK…” Meg choked. The taller guy behind Sumendi handed her a bottle of water, which she gratefully accepted. He was kind of cute, too, she noticed. The water helped.

“I’m sorry.” Meg covered her face with her hand. “I just… something went down the wrong way, I don’t know…”

“As long as you’re OK.” Sumendi was looking at her with a sort of serious expression. That looked good on him, too. Did he say he was a firefighter? Meg really, really liked firefighters.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for the water,” she said to the taller guy, handing back the bottle.

“Keep it. Just in case,” he said, smiling. “Hey, would you mind if we got a picture of you guys? You know, together?”

Sumendi smiled again. “Yeah, that would be great!”

Meg was still working to calm her spasming trachea, and knew what her makeup must now look like. “I’d like that, but… Can I just…” She pointed to a mirror in the jewelry booth next to the hoodie booth.

“Oh, sure!” Sumendi said excitedly. Could I sound more like a fourteen-year-old? Damn it!

Meg went over to the next booth, bending down to survey the damage to her eye makeup. It was bad. She pulled her small backpack off her shoulder and rummaged inside. People kept bumping against her in the overcrowded Exhibition Hall, making her work much harder. She was eventually pushed over to the other side of the booth, where there was another mirror. She had to wipe a lot of smeared mascara off her cheeks, which messed up the rest of her makeup, which meant she had to re-do that, too, before she could re-apply her mascara. It took a solid five minutes, with added time to deal with all the pushes and shoves from the crowd and those wanting to get closer to use the mirror themselves to try on jewelry.

“You ready to go on?” Meg heard Karen’s voice at her elbow. She looked up, surprised.

“Oh, well, we’re gonna get a picture together, me and Sumendi.” She looked over to where Sumendi and his friend had been, but couldn’t see them in the seething crowd.

“What Sumendi?”

“The cool one, the one we saw at the panel. They were right there-“

Liz stepped up beside Karen. “They didn’t have any good Dr. Who shirts. Let’s go.”

“No, but… wait-“

“Meg, I don’t see any Sumendi around here. Maybe he bailed.”

“He didn’t bail! They were right there!” She moved toward the hoodie booth as best she could, but there were so many people crowded around it was difficult to maneuver. Pushing a bit, she got further into the walkway but couldn’t see Sumendi or his friend.

“Damn! They’re gone.”

Karen and Liz hustled Meg along to the next booth. They still had a lot of ground to cover. Meg was crushed. That Sumendi had been really cute. And he said he was a firefighter. And that smile!

Meanwhile, Brian and Cruz had been shoved into the hoodie booth, and were trying to get back to the walkway, but it was taking forever. Finally, Joe used his elbow-swim move to escape the booth, with Brian in tow. By the time they got out to the walkway, Tabiti was nowhere in sight. Brian sighed. He had really liked the deep copper color of her hair, especially with her green eyes. Plus, she’d remembered him from the panel!

****************

“OK, this is where I leave you,” Cruz announced as Brian joined the line for his picture with Anthony Lang. It was only two thirty, but he wanted to be sure to get his picture and autograph.

“You sure, Cruz? This is Anthony Lang we’re talking about.”

“I know, but I’m not paying seventy-five bucks for a picture with a dude I can see in a movie for less than twenty. You’re crazy. I’m going back in, to finish the Exhibition Hall.”

“Fine. You’re missing out.”

Cruz gave a little wave and disappeared into the crowd, just missing colliding with Meg as she maneuvered through the crush of people to join the line for pictures and autographs with Anthony Lang. Looking around, she figured out where the end of the line was and stepped up behind the last person, who happened to have a really good Sumendi costume –

“Hey! It’s you!” Brian greeted Meg, again giving her that blinding smile. She blinked a bit, momentarily confused by his sudden reappearance and by the effect that smile had on her.

“Oh, hi! We got separated. I’m sorry, I really wanted to have a picture with you.”

“Yeah, so did I. But we can do it now. You know, if you want.”

Meg’s face fell a little. “I’d like that. I guess you’ll have to text it to me, though, because my phone died.”

Now Brian’s face fell. “You are not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a phone, either. I gave it to my roommate, because there’s no place for it in my costume, and I didn’t want to be bothered with it. He has it in his jacket.”

Just Brian’s luck. Here he was, looking great as Sumendi, with a long wait ahead next to the best Tabiti he’d seen at the Con, who seemed genuinely excited to have their picture taken together, and neither of them had a phone. His choices were laugh or cry. Or swear a blue streak, he supposed, but he didn’t know this girl and she seemed really nice. Maybe she would be turned off if he swore. But he was brutally disappointed.

Meg laughed, so Brian joined her. She was no more thrilled than he was not to have a camera, but maybe they could find her friends, or his, when they were done with Anthony Lang. Or maybe they could get a picture taken in the booth with Anthony Lang. That would be really cool. In any event, she was pretty happy to get to spend the next hour or so with this cute Sumendi while they waited. They were going to get a chance to actually talk. To get to know each other. She wondered whether he was single. She also wondered, based on the excellent craftsmanship of his costume and his obvious closeness to the guy he’d called his “roommate”, whether he was straight. She really hoped so.

“I’m Brian, by the way,” he introduced himself.

“Meg.”

“Meg. Nice name.”

“Short for Margaret. Call me Margaret and you’ll get Tabiti’s scepter up your nose.”

Brian held up his hands. “Meg it is. That tip looks like it could do some real damage.”

Meg smiled and took a look at the tip of her scepter, which had a lampwork glass flame at the end. It was fairly pointed. “Just letting you know the rules.”

“That scepter is great. You’re really talented. How’d you make that?”

Meg explained the rather simple process of fabricating the scepter. The basic idea wasn’t too complicated; she’d started with an old baton. But she made Brian laugh with her story of the lengthy and heated negotiations she’d had to conduct with the friend who made the tip.

The friend, Alice, made lampwork beads, which was a fairly expensive hobby that required a great deal of practice to master. Besides that, the flame tip had to be both intricate - woven of several different colors of glass - and strong enough to withstand whatever abuse it would get at the Con. Alice’s initial price had been far too steep for Meg to afford, so Meg had offered to clean Alice’s apartment in addition to paying what cash she could. No deal. Meg had added a week of cat sitting, but still the price was more than she could pay. In the end, Alice had agreed to accept the price Meg offered, along with the apartment cleaning and cat sitting, plus one more, hideous cost.

Alice had a cousin named Harold. Harold’s mother, Alice’s aunt, was very concerned that Harold, who was going on twenty, hadn’t met the right girl yet. Alice’s aunt kept pressuring Alice to set Harold up. So Meg had ended up having to accept a date with Harold.

There was a reason Harold hadn’t met the right girl. Several, in fact. First and foremost, Harold had the worst breath Meg had ever experienced. He was also extremely shy, but only at first. Once the lights had gone down in the movie theater, suddenly he was all hormones and hands, and Meg had spent the next two hours ignoring the movie in favor of fending off almost-continual frontal assaults.

In the end, the guy behind them in the theater had actually leaned forward and hissed to Harold, “Dude, even I can see you’re not gonna get there with her. Give it up and let’s all leave with what little dignity we have left.”

After the movie, Harold had taken Meg to a bar he said he frequented. Meg was completely uninterested in Harold, but after what she’d been through, she was very interested in a drink, so she’d agreed. “They know me here,” Harold said proudly.

They didn’t know him there. And, apparently, he didn’t know them, either, because the bar’s clientele, while sparse, was mostly female, and entirely gay. When they had their drinks (Meg didn’t usually do shots, but it was an emergency), Harold had once again begun relentlessly trying to grope her. Meg was usually a very nice person, but she’d had enough. So she said, quite loudly, “Listen, I have asked you more than once to stop trying to touch me like that. No means no. Knock it off.”

Harold was very unceremoniously escorted from the bar by a lovely woman named Bud. Meg had enjoyed getting to know Bud over a few drinks, and they’d had a few laughs at Harold’s expense, but Meg was honest about her preferences when Bud handed over her phone number. Bud didn’t seem to mind that Meg wasn’t planning to call, which Meg actually found pretty attractive. She kept Bud’s number. She didn’t even mind having to pay for the cab home.

Brian liked that story a lot. He had really appreciated the opportunity to simply stand there, listening to Meg and appreciating the way her green eyes sparkled when she smiled, and the cute way her nose wrinkled when she laughed. Meg was funny, and Brian especially liked that the story indicated quite clearly that she wasn’t seeing anyone. Which, of course, was part of Meg’s reason for telling it, in addition to introducing the topic of lesbians in hopes that Brian would share something that would let her know which team he played for.

“Now it’s your turn to tell me an embarrassing story about you,” Meg invited.

“The problem with that is there are so many choices,” Brian mused. “Stuff seems to… happen to me.” He hemmed and hawed for a few moments. He needed to find a story that would let her know that he, too, was single, and preferably one that also reminded her (in case she’d missed it the first time) that he was a firefighter. Women loved firefighters.

“Well, there was this one time on a fire – did I mention I’m a firefighter? – when this really, really huge guy was stuck in a hammock. We never did learn why he had a hammock in his living room, but…”

Brian told a very funny story that ended with the man being rescued (if not very gracefully) and the man wanting to reward Brian with a date with his sister. He had tried valiantly to get out of the “reward”, explaining to the man that it wasn’t necessary, and that it was really a little frowned upon for firefighters to be rewarded for just doing their jobs. Baked goods or something, sure, but… Brian had been entirely unable to talk the man out of it. The entire firehouse had given him endless shit about it, because all of them imagined the sister as, basically, the brother in drag.

Until she showed up at the firehouse for their date and was one of the most beautiful women any of them had ever seen.

“So? Did you marry her and live happily ever after?” Meg asked, laughing (on the outside, at least – she was finding that she cared more by the moment whether he liked girls).

“I’m afraid not,” Brian answered with a cute twist of his lips. “She was about two feet taller than I am, and she was, um… let’s just say we should set her up with your friend’s cousin. They’d never be heard from again.”

“I thought guys liked women with, um, an appetite.”

“Well, sure, to a point. But that one… I don’t think I want to marry a woman if I’d be afraid to fall asleep around her.”

They both enjoyed a long moment of laughter. Hmmm. So he’s single and apparently straight. Well, well.

The conversation moved on to the Planetary Saviors. For quite some time, Brian and Meg enjoyed talking about what they liked – and didn’t like – about the Sumendi movies thus far and what they hoped to see in the new movie that would include all of the Planetary Saviors. The fun of that conversation was that they didn’t always agree – Brian thought Sumendi’s look in the movies was nowhere near as good as in the original comics, while Meg had to admit to not having read the comics themselves. Somehow, whether because they were intentionally trying to humor one another due to their mutual attraction, or because they really didn’t mind, they found that their differences actually made them see the Planetary Saviors universe just a bit differently than they had. Rather than being annoyed, they were each favorably impressed with the other’s slightly different take on the franchise.

“Sumendi’s made of fire, right? I mean, he’s basically the son of a volcano, so why doesn’t he have any glow to him? In the comics, he does. He has a sort of inner light that makes him look sort of… molten inside, you know?”

Since Meg hadn’t seen the comics, they borrowed some comic books and a couple of artists’ renderings that people around them in line had purchased at the Con. She saw Brian’s point. He liked that she was interested in his thoughts, and was especially impressed when she began to think out loud about ways he could make his costume have that same lit-from-within quality.

“That’s genius!” He cried. “I would never have thought of that. I’m going to-“

The crowd noise, which had been fairly deafening, suddenly ceased entirely as the air was split by a scream. All eyes turned in the direction it had come from, behind and to the left of the booth at which Brian and Meg were waiting for Anthony Lang. A knot of people were standing around a woman on the floor, but the thick crowd had parted so that there was a few feet between the people with the woman and the staring mass just beyond. The woman on the ground was jerking violently and appeared to be very pregnant.

“She’s seizing,” Meg cried as she slipped quickly under the ropes that demarcated the line she and Brian had been in. Running over to the woman, Meg dropped her belongings as she knelt on the floor beside her. She reached out and took the woman by the shoulders, helping her to turn onto her side, and was surprised to find Brian kneeling next to her, bending one of the woman’s legs so that she rolled smoothly and easily.

Meg whipped off her Tabiti headpiece and set it on the floor next to her, beginning to assess the woman quickly. She determined that she was breathing shallowly and irregularly as she seized, and had a strong pulse.

“Who’s with her?” Brian asked loudly, using a tone that instantly commanded attention.

“We are – she’s my sister. This is her husband,” a thin, terrified-looking woman in a pretty bad SuperGirl costume answered, pointing out the blank-faced teenager next to her.

While Meg commandeered a sweatshirt from a bystander to put under the woman’s head, Brian continued to ask the right questions.

“What happened?”

“She just… fell down. She started jerking like this and she won’t wake up!”

“How far along is she?”

“She’s thirty two weeks,” the sister answered. “What’s wrong with her? What’s happening?”

Brian looked at Meg, who almost imperceptibly shook her head.

“We’re going to figure that out. Who has a phone?”

Brian pointed to the first person whose brandishing of a cell phone caught his attention. “OK, you. Call 911. Stand right here next to me, and when you get them on the line, put them on speaker. You-“ he pointed to a spray-tanned Superman. “Go get help. Security, anyone with a walkie-talkie. Tell them what’s happening and get us whatever medical equipment they have here.”

The woman appeared to have stopped seizing for the moment. Meg looked at the teenager who had been identified as the woman’s husband. “Talk to me, Dad. What medical problems does she have?”

“N-n-nothing. She’s been fine.”

“Has she ever had a seizure before?”

“No! What’s wrong with her?”

“What medications does she take?”

“Nothing. Prenatal vitamins.”

Meg took her pulse at her wrist again, and then felt for her pulse at her throat. She leaned toward Brian and muttered quietly, “Her pulse is bounding – we’ll know more when we can get a BP, but I’m thinking eclampsia.”

“That woulda been my guess. Pregnant, seizing… You a doctor?”

“RN. We need help.”

“It’s on its way. For the moment, it’s you and me.” He looked up at the person he’d asked to call 911. “What’s the holdup?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have much of a signal in here…”

Sharply exhaling in exasperation, Brian looked up at another person who was holding a phone and appeared to be filming the incident. “You. Call 911. And nobody else better be filming. This woman has the right to privacy, same as you.”

The second person got through immediately and handed Brian the phone. He put it on speaker and, as Meg fed him information, he relayed it to the 911 operator. They worked smoothly together, and Brian had time to notice the expertise with which Meg worked with the woman, who was beginning to regain consciousness. They were both experienced first responders, so their teamwork was not entirely surprising, but there was also an element of natural communication between them. They’d gravitated to their roles in this situation without thought or discussion.

Meg reached up and unclasped her cape. Brian caught the movement and immediately understood. He helped her remove it and cover the woman with it, then removed his own (which was a little more difficult due to the wings) and put that over her, too. For the next five minutes, they did what they could to make the woman comfortable while Meg got as much medical history as possible and monitored her vital signs. Then the woman began to seize again, and they kept her safe while she thrashed and jerked, making sure she didn’t hit her head and getting people to give them extra clothing so that they could keep something soft between her spasming limbs and the hard floor.

Brian leaned in to Meg. “This is lasting too long.”

“Yeah. And she’s stopped breathing. As soon as she stops seizing, we need to be ready to do CPR.”

“Got it.”

At that moment, three people came running through the crowd, pushing their way into the circle around the woman with cases of emergency equipment. They were all EMTs stationed at the facility for the event, so Meg moved aside and reported to them that she was an RN and Brian was a firefighter, and told them what they knew so that the EMTs could take over. She wondered what was taking the ambulance so long, since there were two hospitals within minutes of the facility, but she thought she was probably just dealing with the distorted sense of time that comes with an emergency.

“Do you have any medications in your kits?” She asked the EMT who appeared to be leading the team.

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, don’t get me started.”

“She seems to be coming out of it, and I think she’s breathing again. Want me to get a BP?”

“Nah, I got it. But thanks.”

Not long afterward, the sound of a siren was clearly heard, even over the sound of the mob that was now getting back into the swing of the Con. A fair number of people were still huddled around the scene, watching, but the circle around them was only a few people deep now, since beyond that, no one could really see anything. The rest had decided to go back to their shopping. As the ambulance crew hurried through the Hall, Brian could follow their progress fairly accurately by the disturbance in the throng. He began to back people up so that the paramedics could get through with the gurney.

The ambulance crew was one he didn’t know. Their arrival caused quite a bit of excitement and hubbub in the area, and Brian lost track of Meg in the group of milling, pushing people. He wasn’t needed to help lift the woman onto the gurney, so he stepped back a bit and tried to control the crowd, to give the paramedics as much room as he could get them in the press of curious gawkers. Soon, the woman had been given some medication to stop her seizures, and the gurney carrying her was rushed from the scene, her sister and teenage husband in tow.

The crowd flowed back together as though they had never been there, except for Meg’s Tabiti headpiece, which Brian saw on the floor and picked up. He found himself unable to resist the tide of movement, and was swept closer to the booth where he was supposed to be having his picture taken with Anthony Lang. He didn’t see Meg anywhere. Without her Tabiti headpiece on, it was impossible to identify her head among the seeming thousands around him.

He thought she would probably make for the booth again, though, so he fought his way over to it, only to see a large sign:

Anthony Lang Appearance Cancelled For Today.

The sign gave a website people could go to in order to try to reschedule or get refunds. Meg wasn’t there.

Brian carried Meg’s headpiece under his arm as he looked everywhere in the huge Exhibition Hall over the next hour. There were simply too many people, moving in too many directions, and the Hall was just too big. Meg was nowhere to be found. All he had to prove she had been real was the papier-mâché headpiece she’d worn as part of her costume.

#Chicago Fire #Chicago Fire Otis #Brian Zvonecek #Yuri Sardarov #Chicago Med #Chicago PD

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