#had a venti coffee and im still exhausted

[interstellar-muse]

Forever Sleepy

[naoyaslut]

overtime - NSFW 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

wordcount: 5,245

pairing: naoya zenin x!femreader 18+

warnings: thigh fxcking, fingering, slight dubcon, bossy naoya.

notes: is smut, loosely edited(constantly being edited)pretty boy naoya/mannish naoya/CEO naoya. im definitely thinking of making this a series.

Episode 2

5 am. It’s early, too early for you at least. You never were a morning person, but for this job you had to make sacrifices to make certain aspects fall into place. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon creating a dusty gradient of orange, red, and pink to engulf the cloudless sky. You groaned internally as you pulled into the underground garage navigating up to the top floor of the garage to park. You had a personal parking spot right next to your boss’s spot, that was adjacent to the floor’s elevator to conveniently get you up to the office as quickly as possible.

Being a personal assistant was challenging, but you loved how you were often required to think on your toes and how no matter what you were tasked out with there was always SOMETHING that needed to be done. But... your boss for the past year, was something else. Naoya Zenin. You’ve learned to maneuver around him without upsetting him too often over time, but he actually was slime. As long as you did everything right you weren’t on the receiving end of his arsenal. That meant that sometimes you had to be stern. You had to be mean. Or even sometimes you had to be a bitch to make sure that your boss, the calculating, misogynistic, asshole didn’t chew you out on the daily.

He liked you, at least you assumed so. At least he had moved on from insulting you daily and blatantly stating the obvious that you were a woman and “women” should know their place in this terrible world. You clicked your tongue, in annoyance stepping out of the black company car. Being sure to grab your belongings and his black coffee from the center console’s cup holder.

Standing up right you headed over towards the elevator, nudging the car door with your hip before departing. The up button illuminated upon pushing it while you waited patiently for the elevator to show up. You were exhausted, but appreciative that it was Friday. Weekends were your personal days so long as you finished everything you needed to prepare for the following week.

Rocking back on the balls of your feet you smiled to yourself thinking about the evening you had planned. You had a “date”. You were crossing your fingers for some much-needed company and alone time with someone of the opposite sex who was not Naoya. Visibly you scowled at the thought.

It’s not that Naoya Zenin wasn’t attractive, as a matter of fact he was very attractive. He was probably every woman’s dream, in regards to his physical appearance. He was tall, blonde, and he was solid. You’ve seen him without a shirt on in more than one occasion, and that man must treat his body like a temple because it was gorgeous. Strong lean biceps, abs, and a perfectly chiseled jaw line.

The only downside was his attitude. The way he talked down to people to include women was a complete turn off. He absolutely loved to be condescending, he seemed to revel in the reactions he got as well.

The doors to the elevator parted to reveal an empty car, and you stepped inside pushing the number 20, for the executive floor. Your ID badge went into the card reader right after and the doors closed on themselves the car starting to move through the elevator shaft.

The elevator came to a slow halt and the double doors opened up smoothly, jerking back into their compartments and you exited making a beeline for the office located in the rear of the floor. The fluorescent lighting was still dim and the floor was completely empty aside from yourself.

Bending at the waist you gingerly sat the venti coffee cup down on a black square table coaster on the center table inside the waiting lounge. You placed your duffel bag along with your satchel down on the table as well, flipping open it’s flap to fish out your cellphone.

Naoya hardly ever came into work this early, but since he hadn’t actually gotten any sleep the night before he thought it to be wise. He had company over that came in the form of one busty platinum blonde and one busty brunette. They were a hand full for sure and it was extremely out of character for him to make time to “play” during the week.

The elevator doors retracted for a second time with Naoya stepping off briskly beginning to walk towards his office. He slowed down to a halt when he caught a glimpse of you bending over the glass table top of the small table in the middle of the room. The navy-blue pencil skirt you wore fit snugly against your bottom half obscenely accentuating the curve of your ass.

Out of all of the assistants that he could have hired, he chose you. There were plenty of attractive women that applied for the job, but 90% of them didn’t have any idea how to organize, plan, and schedule. You proved to be proficient and you worked well under pressure. His own constant nagging and degradation didn’t seem to bother you either, you never talked back. There was always a simple nod in confirmation and going above and beyond to get it done.

It caught him off guard, not the first thing he expected to see first thing in the morning. He watched as you stood upright again shifting all of your weight onto one stiletto adorn foot, once you retrieved the phone out of your bag. Holding it in your left hand, your right one shifted to adjust the cream floral printed silk blouse pulling the bunched fabric back up on your shoulders.

Naoya thought you were an attractive woman, and had you not been his personal assistant he probably would have fucked you a long time ago. You always came into the office looking your best, not overly sultry but still smartly dressed and in compliance with the dress code. He studied your expression as you unlocked your phone, lips pursed with your perfectly arched brows coming together in concentration.

Why was he leering at his personal assistant so early in the morning? Maybe it’s the alcohol still in his system. Shaking himself from his own thoughts, he resumed walking muffling a quick word before stalking towards his office.

“Morning.” Naoya mumbled as he resumed his stride, eyeing the way your top exposed the skin of your shoulders.

Snapping your head around, your eyes followed your boss as he opened up his office door. Slightly taken aback you picked up his coffee and proceeded to follow him into his office.

“Ah, Mr. Zenin. Good morning.” You smiled brightly as you placed his coffee down on his desk, it was still slightly warm from the short walk up. You stared, your smile slipping off of your face. Blinking slowly, you scrutinized his disheveled appearance pursing your lips in disapproval. Eyes going from his wrinkled suit jacket to the smudges of what looked to be foundation and lipstick on the collar of his button up underneath. It was clear what he was doing last night, and by the looks of it he didn’t take the time to clean up.

Naoya sat in his chair behind his desk and grabbed the cup of coffee you placed in front of him taking a quick sip. He looked tired, but still pleasant to look at. Eyes blood shot and dark bags seated underneath his eyes.

Naoya’s steeled gaze shifted from his idling computer screen back to your face as you stood in front of his desk as your eyes darted over him from head to toe.

“You’re staring, Y/N.” chided Naoya.

Your cheeks went red as cleared your throat, slightly embarrassed. You intertwined your fingers together in front of you resting them tightly against your abdomen. Wetting your lips, you began to speak.

“Hopefully, I’m not crossing the line Mr. Zenin.. but you look... -” Naoya’s eyes narrowed and you stopped talking immediately. Clearing your throat, you began again with a list of appointments he had scheduled for the day.

“I have your dry cleaning in my office, you’ll need to change out of that.” You smiled sweetly, emphasizing the last word of your sentence. “And don’t forget that you have your meeting with Mr. Matsumoto today at 9 AM for his closing.”

Naoya visibly rolled his eyes as he shifted his attention from your face down to your collarbones that peeked out over the fabric of your blouse. Slumping back into his chair he half listened while he made mental notes of the way you looked while you spoke and continued to drink the coffee he had been nursing earlier.

Your hands had gone to resting at the curve of your hip, and you bit your lip thoughtfully while shooting glances towards the ceiling as you elaborated on your explanations. You were a very animated person, especially when you talked. The tips of your french manicure tapping idly at your chin or faintly nibbling on the tip of your nail before contemplating what to add.

He looked exhausted. And possibly drunk? He was paying you an ungodly amount of attention this morning, at least with his eyes he was. You didn’t miss the way they lingered on your face or on other places of your body as you stood there. Shifting uncomfortably, you glanced at your watch just to put your attention on anything else. He didn’t say another word, his jaw setting tightly once you finished talking. You assumed that meant he had heard you.

“Can I get you anything before I start running errands?” He still said nothing, only sighing as if exasperated running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “I have some ibuprofen if you need it sir.”

Finally, he responded placing a hand on his forehead before folding over on the desk and resting his head down on its surface.

“Just get out and wake me up in two hours.” Nodding you turned to take your leave. “And bring me another black coffee when you get back.”

You closed the door after you stepped out of the office retrieving your own items before heading towards your own office. The lights were now brightly lit, and a few of the other employees were starting to mill onto the floor for work. That included Naoya’s secretary, Liana. Liana was a cute shy little thing, but she always made the best of any situation.

She had just sat down at her desk outside of Naoya’s office, inserting her common access card into the card reader on her computer. Stopping by her desk you leaned your hip against it placing a hand on her shoulder before you began to speak.

“Good morning, Liana, Mr. Zenin is in his office taking a nap. I’ll be back in two hours to get him up, so hold all calls until after his 9am meeting. He’s having a bad morning.”

Liana’s brown eyes opened wide as she turned towards you nodding in acknowledgement. “Yes, of course Miss F/N.” Smiling you stood upright and grabbed your own things before heading off to your own smaller office next door to Naoya’s.

Removing your iPad from your satchel you sat down in your office chair and began to take care of a few administrative tasks that you needed to have done before the weekend. Exactly two hours later you found yourself back at Naoya’s office with his dry cleaning and black coffee lightly rapping on the door before entering.

Pushing the door open you stepped in closing the door behind you. Naoya was standing in the middle of his office with his back facing you running a dark towel through his damp hair attempting to dry it. Pausing you stood in place holding his dry cleaning against your bosom your lips parting to dampen them with your tongue.

He was shirtless again, sporting a pair of snug fitting grey sweatpants. Broad shoulders shifting accordingly as he continued to drag the damp towel throughout his partially dried hair. Thick cords of muscle flexing as his arms went back and forth. Your mouth had gone dry for a second time. Why was he so perfect? You were literally gawking at him but masked your interest with simple indifference as he turned to face you.

Naoya smirked as he draped the towel he was using over the back of his office chair, giving you full display of his well-defined abdominal muscles. Holy.. You smiled tightly, a bit of heat rising to your cheeks as you stepped forward.

“I have your suit Mr. Zenin.” You draped it over the sectional that was aligned next to the door and sat his coffee down on his desk. “I’ll leave you to get ready for your meeting, I forwarded your itinerary to your email and your schedule for next week for your trip to Akasaka.”

Turning on your heel you reached for the door handle, pulling it open only to have it slammed shut by a heavy palm coming from behind you. Startled you staggered on your heels and glanced over your shoulder bringing your attention back to your boss; who had crossed the room now looming over you.

Smiling sheepishly, you cleared your throat becoming slightly uncomfortable at his close proximity.

“Mr. Zenin?”

Naoya hovered above you, dimly lit grey eyes staring down into your own. His right hand was still pressed against the door with no more of an inch of space between the two of you. His gaze was intense, those grey eyes roving over every inch of your exposed skin.

“Naoya.” he said “Call me Naoya when we’re alone.”

Your throat grew tight as his hungry gaze bounced from your glossed lips down to the crevice of your throat. He was making you nervous, and you cast your gaze off anywhere else in the room silently hoping that he’d put some distance between you both. Instead Naoya grasped hold of your jaw firmly, bringing your attention back to lock eyes with his own. He grinned slyly as he looked down at you, his calloused thumb grazing over your bottom lip.

“Say it.” he ordered.

You paused briefly at the demand, unsure if he was serious or not. His eyes narrowed slightly in warning, and you nodded compliantly before mumbling his name.

“Naoya.” Forcing a tight smile, you nervously took a step backwards which put your back flush up against the only exit. It only prompted Naoya to take another step forward again making the distance between you even more miniscule. The heat of your embarrassment continued to rise into your face as you placed a manicured hand on his chest with the intent to nudge him back to give you some breathing room.

“Naoya, please.” you complained looking him in the eye trying to thwart the swelling warmth that was creeping up your loins.

Raising a brow Naoya’s smirk, only curved into a mirthful smile. “Ah, so you do know how to beg.” Naoya didn’t relent, he didn’t budge an inch due to his solid stature. He did however lower his head until his nose grazed along your collarbone inhaling the floral scent that you were wearing.

You retracted as if you had been burned by fire upon feeling his nose graze your skin. The sudden contact caused you to smack your head against the door, a small whimper of pain following after.

“Naoya!” you whined, surprised from the jolt of pain that radiated from the back of your head.

He completely ignored your objections as pushed a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“What a lovely fragrance you’re wearing...”

Huffing in mock anger, you glared up at him jabbing your finger in his chest. He was working you up, and you didn’t want him to know that he had that effect on you. He knew that his behavior was unsavory, and you were determined to remind him.

“Knock it off Naoya!” you bit bottom lip to stop it from quivering before you continued speaking. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you know that this is more than inappropriate.”

That smug smirk returned to Naoya’s chiseled facial features again and he leaned in looming over you again backing you into the door. He placed both of his hands on either side of your head caging you in beneath him.

“Or what?” he drawled as he inched closer to your face, his nose once again grazing against yours. “What are you going to do, Y/N?”

Your lips parted as you locked eyes with him, the words that you wanted to speak getting caught in your throat. Naoya’s lips slotted themselves over your own, silencing you before you could draw another breath of protest.

His kiss was smoldering and demanding, it was almost as if he were sucking the air from your lungs. Your knees grew weak, the sound of your pulse pounding against your eardrums. Whimpering slightly, you writhed helplessly under the aggressive assault on your lips swallowing every thought you were trying to formulate as his tongue prodded at your bottom lip.

Your lips parted as his tongue demanded entrance, the slick thick muscle of Naoya’s tongue slipped inside, dancing over every crack and crevice of your mouth. Your lids hung low as you fell into a dazed state the heat building in your core causing your body to flush from Naoya’s ministrations.

Finally, he let up the aggressive onslaught on your mouth pulling back and allowing you to breathe momentarily. Your eyes were glassed over, lips swollen and flushed, and a dazed expression on your face as you stared up at Naoya who was still hovering over you.

He was clearly entertained by your state of disarray, his hand coming up to grasp ahold of your jaw tightly and canting your head back against the door.

Chuckling to himself he placed his unoccupied hand at the curve of your hip squeezing it tentatively through the fabric of your skirt.

“You’re a mess already. You really want me to stop?” The only response you could relent was a breathy groan as your hands came to grasp at his bicep. You weren’t sure if it was to prevent him from continuing or to ask for more.

Your lips parted to say something- anything, but Naoya’s lips descended on your pulse eliciting a squeak from your own as he sucked and nipped at the spot. Mewling submissively, your dug your fingernails into his arm rubbing your thighs together to relieve the harsh ache that was developing between your legs.

Swallowing a choked sob, you flattened your hands along the broad expanse of his abdomen pushing him lightly. You nearly squealed, the enthusiastic attentions he had been paying your throat starting to tingle.

“Naoya, please. You’re going to leave bruises.”

Naoya only hummed in agreement as he relinquished the hold he had on the skin he’d been teasing, his teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh as he stood up right. Grasping the wrist of your right hand tightly, he wrapped your hand around the outline of his thick length in his sweatpants.

“Look what you’ve started, Y/N.” he groaned as his palm flexed around your own squeezing his erection through his pants. “You’re going to have to take care of this before my meeting.”

Startled your eyes met his own as you stuttered out a complaint all the heat in your loins quickly rushing to your face.

“N-no, there’s no time! Your meeting is in thirty minutes!” At this point, you were desperate to get away from him. If he kept pushing forward like this, you were going to be on your knees before you knew it.

Sneaking a glance at the front of his sweatpants, your breath hitched in your throat as it seemed that his erection had grown even larger.

“Thirty minutes. Plenty of time.” Naoya scoffed. Wrapping an arm around your waist he turned you around pulling your backside against his crotch. Holding you in place, he embraced you tightly grinding his crotch against the curve of your ass.

An unsolicited moan escaped your lips and you clamped your hand over your mouth to prevent any other sounds from filling the room.

Naoya guided you towards his empty desk, abruptly releasing his hold on you to bend you over the wooden top.

“Keep making noises like that, then I'll really have to cancel my meetings today.” Naoya shifted his position so he was standing behind you and placed both palms on the insides of your thighs kneading the flesh slightly.

“Naoya, wait.” You attempted to shuffle back upright, but you were pushed back down against the desk. Naoya’s palm splaying itself over and pushing down on your lower back.

“Stop. Moving.”

You whimpered trying to bring your thighs together as his large hands continued to trail up your inner thighs and under your skirt. His slender fingers ghosted over your cloth covered pussy gathering the slick that had completely saturated your undergarments.

Naoya rubbed his fingers together, clicking his tongue slightly at the amount of arousal that he had gathered from barely touching you.

“You’re soaked.” He continued to prod around your underwear sliding the calloused pads of his fingers over your slick folds through your underwear. “Now I feel kind of bad about neglecting you for this long. If you would have just asked, I would have fucked you already.”

You inhaled sharply as his middle finger pushed past your underwear into your sopping cunt all the way to the knuckle. A whine bubbled up from the back of your throat as you placed your cheek against the cool wood of his desk.

“Naoya. Your mee- Ah!” Naoya curled his finger inside of you, languidly thrusting his finger in and out of you before he pulled it out again. Again, he took his time, slathering your arousal against the inside of your thighs before pulling your underwear down your legs.

Once the thin piece of fabric hit the carpet of the office, he ordered you to lift your legs and had you step out of them. Timidly, you do as he says his hand still pressing against the small of your back.

“I’ll make it on time to the meeting. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Naoya’s deft fingers make quick work of shoving your pencil skirt over your hips. It was done in such a neat and caring manner, with him making sure not to add any additional creases.

“Draw your legs together.” His hands are still grasping at the soft skin of your inner thighs, where he had smeared your juices.

His command didn’t register immediately, but the sharp sting of his palm coming down on your right ass cheek had you shifting immediately.

Yelping in surprise at the swat you drew your legs together as Naoya positioned himself behind you freeing his cock from the confines of his sweats.

You could only imagine what his dick looked like, deep down you wanted capture the image and have it seared into the back of your corneas. Unfortunately, the position he had you in didn’t give you much room to do anything of the sort.

Gripping the flesh of your hips, Naoya leaned over you putting his chest against your back. You closed your eyes in anticipation, you were really going to let your boss fuck you over his desk like some sex starved secretary and you had no qualms about it. Finally, you’d be able to get this out of your system and then maybe quit and go work for someone else.

You’re pulled from your train of thought when Naoya pushes his hips forward, his dick slipping through your slick coated thighs, in between your pussy lips; with the tip grazing your clit. You shuddered at the sensation; the swollen bud already sensitive from his treatment from earlier.

You gasped in surprise as he pulled back, repeating the same action again hitting the same spot again. Your mouth was going dry, the pressure beginning to mount between your legs as Naoya continued to fuck your thighs.

You could feel every vein, bump, and divot of his cock stimulating your clit the more he rutted into you. Naoya buried his face in the nape of your neck as he increased his pace, he could feel you cunt clenching around nothing as the friction intensified.

“God, you’re so wet.”

Whimpering at his words you drew your knees closer together rocking your hips forward in an attempt to get more friction from the angle you were in.

Naoya’s pace increased subtly, the sound of his pelvis meeting that fat of your ass echoing throughout the office. It sounded down right obscene, but it was sending static through your abdomen. The pressure between your legs was building consistently until your breathing was becoming ragged.

Your body began to move on it’s own accord your hips jutting backwards and then forward to grind against the thick appendage slicking past your pleasure button over and over again. You didn’t realize how good something like this could feel, your breath now coming out in short pants.

“N-Naoya, I think I might…” you groaned, as you brought a shaky hand between your thighs stroking the underside of Naoya’s girth.

He hissed at the taction, and it seemed to spur his humping into overdrive. Wailing helplessly, your knees buckled underneath him a reverberating shudder coursing through middle. Your mind goes fuzzy and distantly you can feel Naoya manhandling you in an attempt to keep your knees drawn together.

“Keep them together.” He gritted out slowly angling his dick upwards to keep rubbing against your aching clit. The intense sensation causes your orgasm to hit you blindly, a wash of warmth pushing itself from your gut. Both hands flew up finding purchase and the edge of the desk as you bit your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the sensual moan working itself up from the back of your throat.

A wave of slick gushes down your inner thighs making it ten times easier for Naoya’s dick still slipping fervently through the meat of your thighs. Your body still shook from the aftershocks or your orgasm, the intense friction from the man behind you sending your body into overstimulation.

You whimpered lowly, hoping that he’d finish sooner than later before you ended up crying in the middle of his office. He thrusted forward again, his hands squeezing harshly at the soft skin of your hips.

“Close..” his jaw set hard and firm and he thrusted again, learning over your body situated on the desk.

His member stilled between your thighs, and the warmth of his cum began seeping between your thighs. You gasped in surprise as he continued to pump in and out until your thighs milked him completely. A moment later, he pulled himself free from your thighs

“Don’t move.” Pulling up his sweat pants, Naoya grabbed the towel that he had discarded earlier and came back to standing behind you.

Kneeling behind you he took the towel and began to clean up the mess of his between your thighs. You flinched at the feel of the damp fabric against your skin but waited until he finished.

Although he wasn’t wiping you off anymore, he still remained crouched down his heated gaze directed towards your glistening core. He wasn’t saying anything, and you only grew more flustered as you were splayed out open to him on the desk.

Standing up right your hands quickly found the hem of your skirt trying to pull it back down over your waist. Naoya stood interrupting your actions by grasping hold of your hand.

Your face was already red with embarrassment, biting your lip you pinned Naoya with a nervous glare.

“What the hell Naoya?!” You whined slightly taken aback at the sudden action.

“Allow me.” He was staring down at you, lip twitching at the corner of his mouth as he pulled your skirt back down for you smoothing out any wrinkles as he did. Once he was finished correcting your wardrobe, his hand slipped over your behind giving it a firm squeeze.

You squealed at the gesture, shooting him an incredulous look. “Don’t be mannish.”

It was very clear to you that he was laughing at you, attempting to hide the amused smirk that was slowly creeping onto his face. Unfortunately that’s exactly what he was, and you had allowed him to act on his impulses and your own.

Huffing indignantly, you distanced yourself away from him. You were unsure of what to say or do in this situation, but Naoya simply carried on like whatever happened between you two was business as usual. He picked up his dry cleaning and went to stripping down and changing right in front you.

You shied your gaze away from his naked body glancing down at your watch to check the time. It was 8:40, he had exactly 5 minutes to get into the conference room to go over his pitch with his client. Shifting unsteadily, you realized that your underwear was still missing.

Smoothing your arms over your blouse and over your hair to make sure you looked at least semi decent you cleared your throat.

“Uhm.. Naoya. My underwear?”

Naoya had just finished buttoning up his collared shirt, as he turned on his heels to glance over at you. He knelt down to pick up the scrawny piece of lacy fabric and stuffed it into the pocket of his khaki trousers.

“Out of sight, out of my mind.” He mused as he pulled open his desk drawer.

You blanched as you watched in horror, the heat of embarrassment once again rising to your face. Sighing in defeat you turned towards the door of his office to let yourself out.

“Your meeting starts in 15 minutes. Please don’t be late Mr. Zenin.”

Naoya casually rummaged through his desk drawer before pulling out his silver Rolex and slipping it on his left wrist fastening it quickly.

“Y/N, before you leave for the weekend. Be sure that you purchase an additional first class plane ticket for my trip to Akasaka.”

Arching a brow you nodded, but decided to inquire why he needed another ticket.

“Of course.. I’ve already purchased one for you and Mr. Fushiguro.” You pondered thoughtfully as your mind went back to his appointments out of town the following week. You didn’t recall any additional associates, and the week Naoya was out of time should have been a down week for you. “What name should I book it under, sir?”

Naoya was now adjusting his grey tie as he closed the gap between the both of, his hand latching onto your jaw squeezing your cheeks together.

“You’re coming along, you’re going to keep Fushiguro and I attending to business matters.” With a hushed chuckle he released his hold on you to open up his office stepping out of the door and out of sight.

Shocked you stood silent. Your breath caught in your throat, trying to decipher what the hell he was insinuating. You were aware that the business trip included Mr. Fushiguro but you personally weren’t a fan of him. If you thought Naoya was crass, Mr. Fushiguro may have been worse.

“What the fuck did I just start..?”

[sopphre]

smileyyeseul is starting an instagram live! do you want to join?

YES OR NO

“hello everyone!” yeseul cheered, both her and jae waving to the camera, with only jae’s hand in frame. “please join me! i promise you look good!”

jae slowly emerged his face into the camera, making it so that the only viewers could see be the top half of his face, until he left and sat on the edge of the hotel bed with yeseul, giving into the younger member’s pleads

“i just took a shower, that’s why i was scared to join,” jae sheepishly mumbled, pulling the tripod closer to them, reading the comments as they came rushing in. “jae is so handsome! awh, thanks.” jae read off, his ears slowly turning a pink shade.

“cute! look at his ears! compliment jae more, please please please!” yeseul chanted, excited pointing at jae’s ears while bouncing up and down in her seat, her voice much louder than her previous tone.

“lower your voice — or i’ll kick you out.” jae threatened, choosing to ignore yeseul’s teasing comments, turning his attention back to the comments. he was used to the constant teasing by her.

“don’t let him fool you, he would never kick me out!” yeseul exclaimed, leaning her head on jae’s shoulder when he leaned back from reading the comments, a soft smile on his face, bringing his hand up to pat the side of yeseul’s face gently. jae brought a finger to his mouth when yeseul wasn’t looking, gesturing for the viewers to not spoil what he was planning to do. jae pinched yeseul’s cheek, making her jump up from surprise.

“i literally hate you so much.” yeseul grumbled, slapping jae’s arm while he laughed, only further annoying yeseul. “jae is such a meanie, don’t you agree diamonds?”

“they do agree! see? you upset diamonds!” yeseul argued, laughing when jae had only rolled his eyes. “don’t you love diamonds?” yeseul questioned, making jae give her an offended look.

“of course i love diamonds! i love diamonds very very much!” jae exclaimed, sending a heart to the viewers watching. “i love you!”

“marry me, jae!” jae read from the comments, looking up into the camera with a pitiful look after he read that. “unfortunately, i don’t think i can marry you over instagram. my apologies.” jae responded, making yeseul snort.

the duo read comments for awhile, reading ones they found interesting.

“coachella was amazing!” yeseul read, a bright smile forming after she read the comment. “thank you so much! i’m so excited that we were able to go...it’s truly a dream come true.”

“tonight was wild, i truly wasn’t expecting to see that many people in the crowd.” jae said in awe, looking over to see yeseul nodding her head, agreeing with him.

Y: “i saw so many of our lightsticks, and i even saw some people wearing our merch! that made me so happy — thank you so much for coming to support us, diamonds!” yeseul cheered, sending more hearts to the camera.

J: “i was suprised too, during blood sweat and tears, so many of them were singing along with us. originally, i wasn’t going to give the crowd the mic because i was scared no one knew us — but after hearing how many diamonds there...i just let all of my worries go.”

Y: “i can’t believe that we just performed at coachella, like that is crazy to me. and it was so much fun — the crowd had so much energy, it was crazy. even if they didn’t know us, they still stayed and listened to us perform.”

J: “going to coachella and going on tour again feels like a dream, it’s been so long since we’ve been able to perform and meet so many diamonds. touring truly is one of my favorite things — even if it can be exhausting at times — i love it.”

Y: “i think being able to perform infront of diamonds makes up for the constant jet lag and exhuastion. during tour, i pretty much just run on adrenaline...and multiple cups of coffee.”

J: “she’s being 100% serious, she had three venti coffees yesterday, and five yesterday. she’s crazy.”

Y: “my stomach did not appreciate me, but atleast im staying awake! and diamonds, don’t worry about us. we do get lots and lots of sleep, and we are all completely healthy! we are all so excited to be on tour and meet you all again!”

J: “yes, speaking about sleep, both of us should probably go to bed, thank you to everyone who watched us! i love you, good night diamonds!”

Y: “good night! i love you!”

tags: @chaerincore send an ask to be included or removed!

[simpsiren]

coffee or me?

na jaemin x reader

description: you thought your life was getting boring when all you did was worked as a barista at your father’s coffee shop, that is until you met the med student na jaemin who keeps ordering an unhealthy amount of coffee everyday.

genre: barista!fem reader, med student! jaemin FLUFF!!

warnings: none

word count: 5,105

a/n: so i saw this post on instagram by @/pandawithnojams and decided to write a fanfic on jaemin hehe enjoy :D

your life was a little different from others. instead of further studying your interest, which was architecture after high school, your father immediately asks you to work at his 24 hour coffee shop, Anders, just beside a college. to make you feel worse, the college that was beside Anders was one of the colleges you thought of attending before being told to work.

althought you were not too happy with your father’s decision, you accepted it willingly. your father is the only family member you have left after your mother passed away 3 years ago and you wanted to help your father as much as possible so as to lighten his burden of taking care of himself and you.

“help me clear the tables, princess!” your father shouted from the back of the shop as you moved out of the counter to clear the empty cups on the tables. to be honest, you were starting to like working with your father. you worked as a cashier while you father would be at the back making the drinks, well that is during the day shifts. your father had the idea of you taking on the night shift as well so that you can practice making drinks while not getting stressed over the huge flow of orders that the shop would usually get during the day. you agreed to the idea as you thought of how your father would be able to rest during the night so that he would get plenty of rest for his aging body.

you shook your head with a soft smile as heard your father calling you princess. you were embarrassed that your father kept calling you that but you started finding it cute and you felt the care in his voice everytime he calls you that.

it was 7pm and your father was getting ready to get off his shift before you start your night shift at 7:30. you rushed to your father at the back with the stack of cups in your arms, being cautious of not dropping them. “let me help you clean up.” you said as you saw your father packing up his things. “i can do this myself, please. you dont have to worry.”

you placed the cups in the large sunk and walked over to your father and jerked his side with your elbow. “make sure you rest once you get home alright?” you started to pick up his items on the table, snatching your father’s bag from his hands and putting the items in. you felt his hand resting on your head. you looked up to see his wide and happy grin. “thank you for helping me, elizebeth.” he grabbed you by your shoulders to turn your body to face his before landing a loving kiss on your forehead. you smiled and hugged him tightly. you and your father stayed there away, fully embracing each other’s love. you pulled away shortly after, handing him his bag. he waved you goodbye one last time and you see him off.

you took your phone out of your pocket and one quick look at it and it told you that it was 7:45. you heard the bell on top of the door ringing and immediately went out from the back to attend to the customers.

you have been working till 3am now. it became less and less busy as time went on and you now only had two customers in the shop who were chilling and doing their own thing. fortunately, it finally gave you time to take a break. you pulled a wooden stool beside you and took a seat. you stretched your arms up, interlocking your fingers while doing so and stretching your back in the process, letting out a soft groan. you sighed as you let your arms fall onto your lap and slouched your body.

you leaned forward and rested your head on the palm of your hand, with your elbow on the counter. without you realising, you have drifted off to sleep. well, it was only a short nap. you were able to get some shut eye for about 20 minutes when you heard the ringing of the bell once more. you fluttered your eyes open and turned your attention from the counter top to the door, your eyes were only half open as you watch a figure walking towards the counter.

you heard the footsteps of the person coming closer and finally stopped. “what may i get you?” you asked in a lazy tone, not even bothering to sound like a happy and cheerful cashier at this point as you were not fully awake. you looked at the person standing across the counter, who was looking up at the menu board above the counter. he had round glasses and beautiful blonde hair that was very messy and edgy. a stack of papers were in his arms along with a laptop below it. he wore a large brown cardigan with a white turtle neck, and he looked about your age. with all the observations you made, it was no doubt that the guy was a collage student, and you guessed that he was from the collage nearby.

“can i please get a venti size iced black coffee with 4 shots of espresso? dont add the water, just ice.” his voice sounded as if he was sleepy or exhausted. you clicked your tongue and batted your eyes as you keyed in the order into the machine. you glazed your eyes over the order and sat up straight, tilting your head up to properly look at the man. “woah are you sure that is safe? its going to be very strong.” you warned the person. you have never known anyone who would order something this strong and intense of a coffee ever.

“its fine. i can handle it.” you told him the price and waited for him to give you the money. you placed the money you were given into the cash register and as you were about to give him the change and receipt, he snatches the receipt out of your hand. “keep the change.” with that, he walked away. you raised an eyebrow at him in awe and shrugged, watching him take a seat near the window and placing his stack of papers and laptop on the table.

you took one deep breathe before standing up and going to the back to get his drink ready. it didn’t take you long to make the drink since you were practically an expert in making black coffee, and since he didn’t ask for anything more, you were able to whip it up in a matter of 4 minutes. you poured the drink into a cup along with settling it on top of a small plate before walking out to serve it to him.

you went out and as you were walking towards the table the man was at, you gaped your mouth with shock and tried your best not to spill his drink. the table was scattered and covered with tons of papers and his laptop was placed in front of him, with his fingers typing away from the keyboard. you gulped as you reached there. “your drink.” you said, trying to sound polite as you waited for him to take the drink. you would have placed it down for him but you did not see the slightest bit of space that was not covered with papers. “oh sorry about the mess” he said in a quirky tone.

it took him awhile to realise you were standing there before he reacted though. you eyes were glued to his fingers for that short moment since you were impressed by how fast his typing was. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and ruffled his hair before quickly running his arm over the table to push some of the papers aside. you placed the cup on the table and said a soft “enjoy your drink.” before going back to take your seat behind the counter.

you went back to the same position you were before, but this time, you were awake and wasnt able to sleep. you looked around the shop and realised that there were cups lying around due to the two customers who were in just now. you didn’t even realise they left you were that tired. you whined to yourself, realising that you have to get back up again to do work just when you took your seat.

you gathered up the strength you have left to stand up once more to clean up the tables. as you were picking up the cup and wiping the table clean with the cloth that was slung over your shoulder, you looked over at the one customer who was still here.

he was writing something on what looks like a worksheet, or perhaps notes. you couldn’t exactly decipher what major he was in based on the sheets of paper laying around the table. you were impressed that he could even fit that many stuff on a small table. he ruffled his hair and scratched his head, tugging on his turtle neck as he stretched his neck from left to right.

it made you chuckle softly in amusement. college really does seem stressful, but maybe he took a major that was difficult. from what your friends told you who did went to college unlike you, there are some majors that are more tiring and energy draining than others.

once you were done cleaning up the tables, you went to the back to clean all the excess dishes that was in the sink, which piled up to quite a height. after awhile, you were finally done with cleaning the dishes and you smiled softly as you thought of how you could finally rest, not entirely but it was still something.

you went back out to take a seat behind the counter and as you were about to close your eyes, you felt the presence of someone standing in front of you. you sighed and looked up to see who it was. “its you again?” you yawned as you took your phone out to check the time. 4am?! and he’s still here? “can i get the same thing i ordered just now?” you furrowed your eyebrows and rubbed your temples. “could’ve told me that before i cleaned all the dishes..” you murmured under your breathe, unaware that he was completely able to hear what you said since it was just you and him in the huge coffee shop.

“im sorry if its troubling you then its fine. although its a 24 hour coffee shop, to which there should always be somebody working.” you heard him say in a sleepy voice, you took this chance to look at his face once more, he looked cute to your surprise. you thought about all the guys that your friends met during college, partying in their dorms and shit. you wished you could experience that. although it sounds depressing, you were living a peaceful content life, not the stressful one that you see his customer experiencing. “um hello?” he asked as you shake your mind out of your thoughts and to reality, realising that you were probably staring at his face like a weird.

“shit sorry sorry ill get your drink ready.” as you were walking to the back, you turned around to see if he was still there, since you completely forgot about asking him to pay. instead, you saw him walking back to the table. you looked down to the counter and saw that there was money on it. you shrugged, assuming that he allowed you the keep the change just like his previous order.

you got his drink ready and went to his table. you saw him laying his head on the keyboard of his laptop, which his arms covering his face completely. you tilted your head as you thought about what to do. should you wake him up? just the drink on the table. you weren’t exactly sure. you let out a soft ‘uh’ as you reached out a finger to poke his shoulder to get him to wake up. “excuse me? your drink is here” you leaned forward slightly and whispered.

you watch the guy lifting his head up and licking his lips, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. he looked at his surroundings before looking up to see you with his drink in hand. he didn’t say anything to you and just took the cup out of the hand. you scoffed and went back to the back of the counter. you played with your phone for awhile, realising it was getting pretty late and yet you see the same person typing away on his laptop and resumed working diligently. you let out a sigh and waited for him to get out the shop.

it was about 5am when you finally see him packing up his things, stacking the pieces of paper and laptop, along with packing his stationery into his white tote bag. he doesn’t look back and went straight to the exit, opening the door and left in the blink of an eye. you took this time to shut your eyes just until your father came and resumed working just like any other day.

a few days have passed now and you realised that it was the same guy who keeps coming in during your night shift to do his work till 5am. and everyday, he would order the same thing. tonight was no different.

“black coff-“

“black coffee with 4 shots of espresso. i know.” you simply said. “and you can pay me once i add your order of the same thing later when you get out.”

you wouldn’t consider him a regular customer but since he has only been coming in for a few days, but you felt that it would be easier if you just remembered his drink, to make it easy on the both of you. so, you head to the back to whip up the drink that you have already memorised and have it embedded into your mind.

you got out with the drink in hand, walking over to the same table that he always sat at everyday. “dont you think i should know your name if your going to be coming in here everyday?” you realised that he made an empty spot that wasnt covered with papers on the table, placing the cup down and folding your arms with your weight placed on your right leg.

“its jaemin.. na jaemin.” he gazes his eyes up to you while taking the cup of coffee and taking a sip, maintaining eye contact with you. you hummed and nodded your head. “well im elizebeth. elizebeth riza.” the man who you now know as jaemin nodded his head in response. he twirled his pen around his fingers before placing it down. jaemin ran his hand through his hair before resting his chin on top of his fingers interlocked together, with his elbows on the table. “im majoring in the medical field. if that’s what you’re wondering.” he said, gesturing his head to the papers scattered on the table. you looked at the papers, leaning in to get a closer look, and indeed, it was all related to the medical industry, which was not in your interest at all.

“i also go to the college just next beside the shop, if that’s also what your wondering.” jaemin emphasised on the ‘also’.

“you’re so... observant.” you looked out to the window behind jaemin. you saw the college being dimly light. you looked back down, only to see jaemin tilting his head down and writing something on his paper. “i need to be. its a requirement for my major afterall.” jaemin shrugged as he responded to you, not looking up at all. instead of walking back to your chair behind the counter, you took a seat in front of jaemin. the action made jaemin look up at you with a raised brow, clearly in confusion. “why are you sitting here?” jaemin mumbled as he pushed his round glasses up his nose and typed something into his laptop.

“well i dont really have to work. since you’re the only customer here at this hour.” you simply replied, slouching into the chair as you folded on leg over the other. “wont youre boss be mad or something?” he asked as he scratched the back of his head with his pen. you shrugged and chuckled softly, folding your arms. “my father doesnt mind.” jaemin nodded his head slowly as he was able to catch up quick to know that your father is your boss. “anyways im guessing you’re going to be a regular customer here since you’ve been coming for a few days now and i always take the liberty to know the regular customers of the shop.” you stated

that fact was wrong, clearly. you wanted to get to know him just so maybe you could get someone he knows form the college who majors in architecture to teach you about it. well, it may be because he was cute too, but you focus more on the other objective. despite what you just said, jaemin doesn’t respond. he continued working with full concentration. you hummed as you watch him work, wondering if you should even continue talking to him. you continued watching him work, occasionally scrolling through your phone and looking at the door once in awhile to check if any customers came.

you heard him took a sip of his drink and wrote something down. “your coffee tastes good by the way.” he complimented, again not looking up at you. although it didnt really sound like a compliment since his voice was very monotone and lazy, probably from the tiredness of working. “i used to go to another 24 hour coffee shop that wasnt so popular, but it closed down. so i headed here instead.” you put your phone faced down on the table and looked up to face him. this time however, his eyes were off his work and glued to you. you bit your lip and nodded your head. “that’s nice to hear. but why cant you work in your dorm or at the campus somewhere?” you were curious as to why he would want to come to a place like this rather than having an actually learning facility to do his work at.”

“my roommate always has someone over at my dorm so i cant really concentrate. its just something about coffee shops, you know? like the smell of the place helps to keep me awake, and the coffee of course.” he looked out to the window, admiring the night sky and the dimly lighted city. you did the same as well, but you also admired the person in front of you. he really was good looking and you couldn’t help but stare at his perfect features. “you really do have the same mindset as my father.” you whispered, peering over to the cup to see that it was empty. jaemin saw your. eyes and coughed lightly to get your attention. “can i get another cup?” he asked. you could tell he was draining of exhaustion and looked like he was trying his best to stay awake by breathing in the smell of coffee that was all over the place.

“sure. but im added only 2 shots of espresso thid time. you know its very dangerous for you to be drinking that strong of a coffee. more than 1 cup even. aren’t you a medical student? shouldnt you know this is bad?” you pushed the chair back and stood up, walking over to his side to take the cup. “i used to drink 6 cups a day when i went to the previous coffee shop. dont underestimate my tolerance.” you gaped your mouth in shock. “6 cups?! who the hell is that psychotic to pump that much coffee into their blood!” you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked down at jaemin, who seemed calm and had an innocent looking face despite your reaction. “medical students, dear.” jaemin said sarcastically in a sing song tone, you saw him rolled his eyes as well. you let out a soft ‘tch’ and left to do his drink.

“as promised. 2 shots of- jaemin?” you weren’t surprised to see him falling asleep in the shop once more. you stood beside him, realising that you see a post it note on his now black screened laptop that. you leaned forward, now getting closer to jaemin so as to read the note. dont wake me up. thanks.

you tilted your head and raised an eyebrow. dont wake him up? is he going to sleep here till dawn? why cant he just sleep at his dorm? you scratched your head as you think of what to do. you never had someone sleep overnight at the shop before. you know its open 24 hour but does it mean that you allow people to full on sleep here? you checked the time on your phone and realised that your father should be here any minute now. you shrugged and walked to sit behind the counter, thinking that you can just ask him once he’s here.

you waited for awhile till you see your father coming through the door. you immediately stood up and waited for your father to go to the counter to greet you. “morning, princess!” you father greeted with a smile and walked to the back. you greeted and followed your father. “father im not sure if its allowed but one of the customers who came to the shop at night id currently sleeping.” you said in an unquestionable tone. your father stopped walking and turns around to face you. “i would allow it if there arent many customers so if its gets crowded just wake him up alright?” your father replied to you with a soft smile. he’s always kind, and maybe too kind, but that’s what you love about your father. you gave a quick smile and rushed to the front when you heard customers starting to flow in since it was morning.

it was 9am and your father allowed you to take a break for awhile. you took this chance to sit in front on jaemin, who still had his head resting on his arms and his hoodie over his head. he looked like he was wrapped in a cocoon or something. you giggled softly. you picked up one of his pens that you saw scattered around and took off his hood and poking his hair with the pen.

you hear a soft groan as jaemin lifts his head up, yawning as his eyes fluttered open to look at you. “what time is it?” you blinked when you heard his voice. you keep seeing on the internet about how guys’ “morning voices” sound hot and wow did you experience it the first time when you heard jaemin, not gonna lie, he sounded hot. “uh its 9am. i think you should just sleep at your dorm.” you answered, trying to keep your cool. jaemin sat up straight and ran his hand through his blonde hair a few time before looking at you. “alright. thanks, for letting me sleep here.” he stood up and looked around. the both of you realising that there were a lot of customers. he quickly stood up to gather his things. bit by bit, you helped him stack up his papers and such.

“will i see you again tonight?” you asked as you handed him the stack of papers. he pushes his glasses and smiled softly. “sure.” was all he said before he walked past you and headed out the door.

weeks turn into months of jaemin coming to Anders and you began talking to him more. slowly but surely, you were getting pretty close to him and you felt like close friends. you would occasionally go out to dinner with him when he wants to take a break from work. by dinner you meant a random 24 hour food restaurant. it didn’t have to be all that fancy since every time you spend with jaemin, he was able to fill your time with smiles and laughs. you got to know him a lot more and well, the friendship just blossomed between you two.

“guess what?! its our 1 year friendship anniversary!” you shouted as you twirled your way to jaemin who seemed stress with his work. you frowned as you took a seat in front of him. “hey you good?” you questioned him with concern in your tone. “i have an exam next week. just a lil stress.” jeamin knocked his pen against his head a few times before writing something down. “anything i can help with? this is the most stressed ive seen you, its worrying me.” you leaned forward, pushing aside the laptop to see his face. jaemin looked up to you, pouting cutely. “6 cups of coffee?” you giggled as you stood up walking over to him and running your hand through his hair before flicking his forehead with your middle finger. “in your dreams, jae. im making you regular black coffee.” jaemin whined. you raised an eyebrow and gave him a disgusted look. “dont look at me like that. regular black coffee, just a lil bit strong alright?” jaemin nodded in approval. you smiled at him and made his drink.

you placed the coffee down on the table and sat down across jaemin. you yawned as you placed your chin on the table and watched jaemin drink his coffee. “how the fuck can you stay up everyday to do work? i can never.” you closed your eyes for a moment. “its what i need to do, love.” you always thought that the nicknames jaemin called you like ‘love’ or ‘dear’ felt as though the two of you were in a relationship but you tried to only think of it in a friendly manner.

“yeah well im gonna take a nap. if any customer comes in just wake me up alright?” jaemin hums and watches you fall asleep. he admired your sleeping state for awhile, feeling his heart flutter for a moment before resuming with his work. after about 30 minutes, jaemin sighed in satisfaction. at least he was able to complete almost half of his work. he realised that you were still sleeping. jaemin smiled gently and reaches his hand out to pat your head, running his hand over your head a few times. he rested his chin on his free hand, admiring you once more.

“jae?” jaemin jerked back a little when he saw your opened your eyes, gazing up at him. blood rushed to his cheeks. he felt his face getting hot, out of nervousness he chuckled sheepishly. “your hair felt soft.” he blurted out. you laughed as you sat up straight and rubbed your eyes. “sure it is, jae. yours is way softer.” you rolled your eyes and glanced at the table before making eye contact with jaemin. “are you done with your work?” you leaned forward a little. “hm? i can take a break.” jaemin said as he yawned while covering his mouth.

“hey el? come here for a sec.” you raised your eyebrow in suspicion, blinking at him a few times before standing up and walking over to his side of the table. you stood there, looking down at him for at least 30 seconds. “jae what do you wa-“

you let out a soft gasp when jaemin grabbed you by your waist, making you fall down onto him, your body pressed against his. you lay your hands on his shoulders as you widened your eyes at him. “i never got to tell you this. maybe its my tiredness, or maybe i cant hold it in anymore...” your body froze when he places his head on your neck, feeling his breathe against your skin as you shivered at his touch. you felt his hand that wasnt around your waist slowly creeping up to your chin, holding it gently as he guides your face to meet his.

“but i like you, so much, for so long.” you slowly but surely placed yourself on top of jaemin, sitting on his lap with your hand remaining still on his shoulders. “jae..” you whispered, intentionally going close to his ear. his head moves away from your neck and up to face you. “you think i didnt know that?” you giggled softly as your hands slide down from his shoulder to his chest, making him flinch slightly. “all the times we hung out and spent time together, all the cuddles and shit. it’s very obvious we like each other, jae. i was just waiting for you to make a move.” your murmured.

“shall i make a move now then?” you see the side of jaemin’s mouth curving up slightly. you tilted your head and batted your eyelashes at him teasingly. “technically you already did by pulling me to you but another move wouldn’t hurt.” you teased and waited for a moment. jaemin leaned his face close to yours, his grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you in closer. he looked at your eyes before looking down to your lips. you didn’t move an inch, but you were

so nervous. it was nerve wrecking. you’ve cuddled with jaemin plenty of times as friends, physical touch wasnt new in your friendship. but this, this felt so different. it was intense.

jaemin slowly connected his lips with yours. he brings his hand up to the back on your head and through your hair. you kissed his back slowly as you closed your eyes in satisfaction. feeling his soft lips on yours. although you thought that he wouldn’t be comfortable with kissing you since your lips were pretty chapped, you felt that the way his kisses you was gentle and filled with love.

you made out with him for awhile. his hands roaming around your back while you wrapped your arms around his neck and through his hair. the two of you pulled away at the same time, a string of saliva appeared as you two gasped for air.

“can i have coffee?” jaemin breathed out. you made a thinking face to tease him as you watch him pouting cutely. “coffee or me, na jaemin?” you laughed and swiped all your hair to the front. “you make me choose? how rude.” immediately jaemin pulled you in for another long kiss.

[fingerguneds]

Stozier + going to the movies

im like one hundred percent sure this is not what you wanted and it turns out i dont know what a drabble is so it’s 4.4k long but um..yeah hope you like it 

Richie is tired. Okay, “tired” is actually a litotes — he’s fucking exhausted. Two weeks of pre-holiday classes — two weeks of deadlines, exams and final test, two weeks of nervous breakdowns and panic attacks for all students, and for him, probably the biggest procrastinator in their year, it was a hell ride. Sugar-high, coffee-flavoured satanic ritual.

But in the end, he finished up good, of course he did, because not only he’s a phenomenal fuckup of a person with a pathological time-management crisis, he’s also a smart fucking guy. And now, after his last French exam, it’s only fair that he goes home and tries to recover from his two weeks long sleep deficit, but…no.

The problem is, he promised Bill to accompany him to the new Star Wars film premiere, they got the tickets days ago, and even though Richie feels like throwing up and lying in his puke for a month and crying helplessly about of it, he promised. And it’s not just someone, it’s Bill, his best friend, and the newest part of Star Wars! And maybe, if three Red Bulls and two strawberry-flavoured Fantas didn’t make his heart stop, another large-sized slushie won’t either. His heart’s a strong one, it’s been to hell and back and he can show you vouchers — his student’s record book, thank you very much.

“You’re gonna have diabetes,” Eddie, Bill’s boyfriend, intones, when Richie arrives to their apartment to pick up Bill with a venti gingerbread latte in his right hand. “Feed him something or come up with a good eulogy,” he tells Bill, standing on tiptoe to leave a quick peck on his cheek.

“But your mom told me I shouldn’t ever force myself to eat—” Richie tries, but Bill pushes him out of the apartment with a sigh and closes the door, leaving Eddie’s pink-cheeked and ready-to-fight face behind it.

“Sure you’re not hungry?”

“It’s always like that when you miss a night of your beauty sleep,” Richie grimaces as they get into the elevator. “But we still can grab something to go.”

“McDonalds?”

Richie chuckles. As kids, they always went to McDonalds before films, hiding burgers and fries in their little hats in winter or bringing a special backpack “for illegal purposes only” in summer so the cinema boys wouldn’t kick them out, or worse — make them throw everything away. Now, no one cares whether you bring your own snacks or not, and they actually finish their food while driving, but there’s still a lingering touch of nostalgia to the whole process.

They’re barely on time, because Richie insisted on buying a goddamn slushie, although the line was fucking enormous, and yet they take their seats exactly one minute before upcoming film trailers begin. They’re both excited as hell, the slushie tastes amazing after the first proper meal he’s had since yesterday’s evening (yes, fries, nuggets and a Big Mac is a meal, unlike two Kit Kats and a bag of Doritos), and yet…nothing goes as planned.

After fifteen minutes of the film, Richie starts to zone the fuck out. The food is still warm in his belly, his winter scarf he didn’t pull off is soft and comfortable under his crooked neck, his eyelids feel like the only thing heavier than them is his head. He tries, he really does, he clears his glasses twice, he finishes his slushie with the largest gulps to wake up, he bites the insides of his cheeks, but it’s all pointless.

Thirty minutes into the film, and Richie’s gone.

***

“Richie! Richie, wuw-wake up! Oh my guh-god, I’m so suh-sorry, he—Richie!“

Bill sounds nervous. His childhood stutter comes back when he is. There’s a tug at Richie’s hand he barely registers.

“It’s okay,” someone chuckles curtly right above Richie’s ear. “At least his hair is clean.”

Um, rude.

Well, maybe in a different situation, Richie wouldn’t have thought that it’s rude. Like, it’s always nice when people have clean hair. Yes.

But.

He’s diabolically tired. His nerves are nothing but a strained, stiff line that is in an alarming danger to snap and slap you in the face, his mind is dangerously aggressive, meeting every single thing with feverish hostility, and Richie doesn’t even wonder if it’s him the voice is talking about. Even if it’s not, it’s still rude. He tries to remember when he last washed his hair — this morning, to not die before emerging from his flat. And his shampoo is nice too, it’s his mom’s shampoo, because he has her curls and—

“Richie!”

He straightens up abruptly, as if someone just kicked him in the balls, eyes still blurry, like a newborn bird’s.

“Ye.”

Someone starts laughing.

“He sounds like that vine.”

Richie blinks and turns to his left, still not quite conscious of the situation, yet quite aware that this someone’s laughing at him.

The first boy he sees sits one seat away from Richie, but he’s leaning forward, elbows on knees, face on the palms of his hands. He’s the one who said about the vine (Richie’s almost one hundred percent sure he knows which vine), and although Richie feels very attacked, he has to admit, the boy’s cute. He has dark skin, dark eyes, jawline to kill (and to die) for, and his smile is so wide and genuinely nice that it would be a shame to get mad at the owner.

Fuck this guy, he’s educated on vines and he’s hot. If it wasn’t for the “basically a ray of sunshine” part, Richie would fall.

And then there’s the asshole. He opens his mouth again.

“The peanut baby vine?” Richie looks at the mop of curly dark-blond hair, currently hiding the said asshole’s face as he turns to look at the first guy, and Richie’s offended diva is back. He may be a fuckup, but no one has a right to say anything about his hair with a voice like this. Even if it’s greasy as fuck, knotty and smells like used oil, like everyone’s hair smells after visiting places where kitchens are inside the main room and they just keep frying the shit out of food right in front of you; even then, no one can say shit about his hair, even—

“Yeah, that one,” the dark-skinned guy laughs again, and the curly asshole turns to face Richie.

No one can say shit about Richie’s hair, even if they own Cupid’s face. No joke, the guy—pardon, the motherfucker looks like an epitome of Cupid from the Psyche myth (not the fat winged baby). Richie quickly gets mad at himself for paying this much attention to the guy, but know your enemy, right? Know your enemy — their hair dark blond hair, like fields of rye in November, their plump pale lips and pale, although with a warm undertone, skin with an almost invisible constellation of freckles on the wings of his nose, their eyes and their dark, muddy colour Richie can’t really identify in the poor lighting of the auditorium. They’re bright with joy and fox-like curiosity, yet insolent and a little arrogant; daring.

Seriously, do people have to be this pretty? One is hot, like an Abercrombie model you see once and think of for days, the second one is not hot but really, really attractive, like someone who would make a fortune with this intense stare, peeling you off right there, where you’ve had a misfortune to capitulate.

“Rich,” he feels Bill’s large hand on his shoulder, still participating in this ugly staring competition with the curly one. “Guys, we’re sorry ag-again, huh-he’s really tired and doesn’t cuh-control himself.”

Richie blinks and frowns, ready to explode right into Bill’s face, but he cuts him off.

“Come on, Richie, we gotta go.”

They stand up, Richie taking his empty slurpie glass in one hand and looking at the guys again. Everything feels like a dream, his brain is too heavy, his legs disobey, his hands don’t feel like they belong to him.

“ ‘s alright, no big deal,” the first boy says again with the gentlest glimmer to his eyes and the loveliest smile, but Richie…Richie’s tired and bitter and…stupid.

“Yeah, you’re probably used to people leaving after waking up with you,” he says, looking directly into the curly one’s eyes. “Not you, you’re cool,” he winks quickly at his friend, as Bill starts swearing quietly and pulling Richie towards the door.

“Dude,” he says, when they both emerge from the cinema doors, a cig already in his fingers. He offers his pack to Richie without a word.

They smoke in silence, walking towards Richie’s car, and Richie is the one to break it.

“Did I really fall asleep on him?”

Bill chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Yes you did. I didn’t notice until the lights were on.”

“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Richie mutters, turning the car key.

“You’re too hard on the guy,” Bill huffs out, lips still wearing a lopsided grin. “He didn’t say anything—“

“Yes he did, I heard what he said about my hair, it’s—“

“Rich,” Bill sighs, but he’s not in the least bit mad or disapproving. Bill has always been a keeper of the wonderful gift of understanding. “He said you weren’t a bother and that he’s glad your hair’s not greasy. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, you’re just tired and tensed, and take things too personally. You just need a rest. C’mon, want me to drive you home? I’ll catch a bus to mine, no problem.”

***

The next four days Richie spends at home, sleeping and eating. Sleeping, eating, watching Netflix, thinking about the curly boy, sometimes. Actually, the memory of that day quickly turns into something embarrassing for Richie, something he knows that will make his cheeks grow hot and pink even years later. He was really, really rude to the guy, rude for nothing, and the worst part of the situation is — he can’t apologize. And! The worst-worst part is that the second-to-worst part is — the boy was absolutely gorg dot com. What an unfortunate turn of events: Richie can’t even suck his dick as an apology. Or just suck his dick. Whatever, he’d find a way to make it up to the boy, he’s talented with all parts of his body.

But it’s like falling in love with someone you saw on a train or in line at grocery store. Or maybe slightly worse, because Richie manage to fall fucking asleep on the guy, but still — a crush, doomed to picturesque longing and a quiet little death. It’s all about the masochistic nature of humankind��— Richie concludes bitterly to himself, because although he’s a certificated Trashmouth, there’s a pathologically romanticistic heart under all these layers of shit.

No, seriously. He’s too much for everyone, even for himself. Especially for himself.

But enough with this shit, Richie decides the moment next, because his mood swings are the only thing wilder than his imagination. C’est la vie, you fuck up and you keep going until you fuck up again. Maybe there is a lesson he can learn, like to keep his mouth shut when he’s tired or, um, to do his homework in time and not traumatize himself…but it’s Richie. He never learns.

He falls asleep on his couch again, trying to decide what he wants to eat after waking up. God only knows why his actual last thought is so, what the curly boy smelled like?

***

Richie doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to a library. He’s always felt that a book should belong to him for being able to read it comfortably, but when you’re assigned to write a research on Andrei Tarkovskiy’s connection with slavic symbolism…not many books you can find in a regular American bookshop down the street.

The library is huge. The entrance is decorated with ionic columns and the door is so massive Richie barely manages to open it. Inside, it’s just as impressive, with the highest ceilings he’s ever seen and beautiful bookcases and tables of dark wood, situated under big thick windows. Richie undoes his scarf and immediately walks towards the service desk, knowing for sure there’s no way he’ll manage to find anything without help. His steps are loud in the monumental silence of this place.

“Uh, hi?” he says, as quietly as he can, and the boy behind the desk looks up at him and smiles politely.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“Well,” Richie chuckles, trying to hope for the best. “Do you happen to know any books related to slavic symbolism in Soviet cinematography, Andrei Tarkovskiy’s specifically?”

The boy arches his eyebrows. Richie smiles unsurely and gets ready to shrug it off and maybe convince his lecturer to change his topic of research.

“I’ll have to be honest, I have no idea how to help you, sir, but my colleague, who is currently in the section number eight is probably more educated on this matter.”

“Oh, okay,” Richie nods, considering to leave the place right now, but the boy’s softest, a little apologetic smile decide for him.

“It’s to the left, straight up until you see the number.”

“Thank you very much,” Richie tells him and turns towards the rows of bookcases.

12, 11, 10, 9…here it is.

The amount of books is almost frightening. The bookshelves are no less than two and a half meters tall, and Richie immediately imagines one of these things crashing epically right on his head. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, then turns behind the number Eight.

Five or more bookcases, forming some kind of a wall. In a couple of steps from where Richie’s standing, leaning on one of them, there’s a ladder, and on the ladder, one and a half meters above the floor, there’s a boy with a couple of books in his hands. Richie, even in glasses, can’t really see his face, because the light doesn’t reach it.

“Hi,” the boy speaks up first, although Richie decides to wait until he’s finished. It’s like, dangerous. The whole construction looks…unsafe. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello, uh, the boy at the desk told me you could help me to find some resources on slavic symbolism in Andrei Tarkovskiy’s films?”

Richie doesn’t notice that he’s holding his breath. The boy’s hands don’t stop, they don’t even flinch, he surely keeps placing the books one by one to where they belong. They’re both silent for a long minute.

“I’m not sure I can help you to find something with both Andrei Tarkovskiy and slavic symbolism, but you could look through slavic symbolism analysis in Russian art in general and the language of Andrei Tarkovskiy’s separately.”

Motherfucker.

“Oh wow, that would actually—“

“Also on the Internet there are a lot of articles on what inspired Tarkovskiy’s methods, if I were you I’d check them out as well.”

The last two books stay tucked under his arm, and that is when he begins to climb down.

“God, lemme help you,” Richie’s heart trembles and starts beating faster at the sight of how tremendously dangerous the boy’s position looks, and he rushes towards the ladder.

“I’m alri—“ the boy turns his head to look at Richie, and when their eyes meet and the spark of recognition explodes between them, two things happen at once: first, Richie’s heart stops, and second, the boy falls down the ladder.

“Bloody fuck,” Richie breathes out, already on his knees beside the boy’s sprawled body. It’s him, of course it’s him, his curly hair, pale freckles on heart-shaped face, but now it’s all red, wearing a grimace of breathless pain. Richie’s so shocked he doesn’t know what to do. The boy turns to lay on his back and a hard moan escapes his lips.

“Oh God, oh fuck, what the—“

“Shut up,” the boy manages to say, chest trembling from the efforts to control his breath. “Shut up and call the—“

“Stan! Jesus, what happened!?”

The other boy is now here too, Richie sees him with the corner of his eye. He looks back though, quickly inspecting the boy’s—Stan’s body.

“What does it look like,” he mocks, cheeks darker than a pomegranate. If Richie wasn’t so terrified, he would appreciate this. Like, a lot. “Call an ambulance, quick, I think my collarbone is broken.”

“Oh my God,” Richie and the other boy mutter in unison, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“Well unfortunately, it’s not my fucking neck, so I’m kind of in pain right now and would really appreciate—“

“God, yes, sorry, yes.”

Richie too pulls out his phone, hands shaking, while Stan closes his eyes and tries to remain unmoving. There’s not much Richie can do, but it’s still something. The other boy’s panicked voice is explaining something in the background. Every ring lasts forever, and when Eddie finally picks the phone, Richie’s sure he almost had a heart attack. Twice.

“Eds? Hi, listen, what do I do if someone breaks their collarbone?”

He accidentally catches Stan’s unreadable stare and looks away, heart already on fire.

“What? Richie, what the fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m just—“

“Did anyone break their collarbone?”

“Well it looks like this, yeah.”

“Did you call—“

“Yeah, but—“

“Okay, fuck, okay, most importantly, do not try to move the body until they arrive, it’s really fucking important, got it? Let them stay where they are, immobilize the shoulders completely, also—do you have ice there?”

“Do you—“ Richie turns to the other boy, but he’s still on the phone, so he has to ask Stan. “Do you have ice?”

Stan blinks, and for the first time, Richie notices that he’s balancing his head above the floor. It’s clear lowering it hurts him. Oh, and his pride is too hard-to-swallow to ask for help. It’s hot.

“Yes, I think we do.”

“Yeah, we do,” Richie repeats and moves awkwardly on his knees to help Stan keep his head up. Stan freezes for a second, but then blinks and relaxes into Richie’s hands.

“Use it for pain, you can give them an ibuprofen too, but don’t let them move, Richie, okay!? Now tell me what the fuck—“

“Later, Eds, thanks a lot, bye,” Richie breaths out as fast as he can and focuses on Stan.

Even upside down, he looks pretty.

Fuck.

Richie, shut the hell up, you’ll think about this later, you sick fuck.

Stan looks him in the eye, and Richie sees that those irises are brown. They’re bright with accidental tears, framed with dark thick lashes, and the colour is not exactly brown, more like greenish-brown, like pine tree needles three weeks after Christmas.

“You shouldn’t move,” Richie says, back to reality. “You shouldn’t move, we need ice and you’re allowed to take an ibuprofen.”

“They’re gonna be here in ten minutes,” the other boy finally joins them, face as red as Stan’s. Actually, even worse: red is his neck and probably his shoulders are too.

“Could you bring me some ice? And a glass of water with an ibuprofen?” Stan asks him, and Richie’s finally calmed down enough to notice how calm Stan is, although the situation is…literally the craziest he’s ever been in. He moves his leg to support his arm holding Stan’s head. Fuck, those curls are soft. Not like Richie’s, Richie’s are soft too, but Stan’s are in thicker rings, curling tenderly around Richie’s pale fingers, licking the boy’s unhealthily pale sweaty forehead.

“Like what you see?” Richie hears Stan’s voice and meets his intense gaze again. There is this daring glimmer to his eyes again, and Richie willingly accepts it.

“Dude, stop,” he chuckles weakly, licking his lips. “ You know I’m already in love.”

Despite their position, Stan huffs, but then his face skews of pain.

“Shh,” Richie winces and moves his fingers in an instinctive soothing motion. “You’re gonna be fine soon.”

“It’s not that bad, just a collarbone. Happens to people all the time.”

“At least it didn’t break through your skin,” Richie blurts out and regrets it immediately, cheeks flaming up.

But then, Stan chuckles. There’s a dimple in one of his cheeks, the left one. Richie’s almost sure his eyes are fully heart-shaped by now.

“Here,” the other librarian boy rushes up to them with what looks like a towel, stuffed with ice cubes, and a glass of water.

He puts a pill in Stan’s lips and lets him drink carefully, then passes Richie the towel.

“Tell me where,” Richie murmurs, and despite how fucked up the situation actually is, this feels oddly intimate. He lowers the towel and feels how more tensed Stan grows.

“A bit—yeah,” he breathes out, and Richie presses down a little.

“Told you you should’ve taken a lunch break,” the librarian guy mumbles softly, and for a moment Richie thinks he’s gonna cry.

Stan rolls his eyes. Richie keeps holding. Somewhere near the door bursts open.

***

“This shit’s surreal,” Bill says after a long pause, when Richie calls him from the hospital an hour later. “I don’t believe this.”

“Fair enough,” Richie nods to himself, inspecting his shoes. “And yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Probably something stupid,” Richie hears Eddie’s voice and grins.

“You’re absolutely correct, Edward.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” comes an answer, and Richie thanks him once again for helping out.

“Trust me, I was ten times worse.”

“It’s actually unbelievable,” Bill says again, and Richie knows the face he’s probably wearing at the moment: blue eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit, one corner of his lips crooked a little. “If it’s not fate, I don’t know what it is.”

“Ooooow,” Richie and Eddie fondly mock him in unison, and Richie knows for sure someone’s gonna get some when he hangs up. “Don’t get too emotional, Big Bill, Edster likes it rough, just like his mom.”

“Oh for fuck’s—“ Eddie’s scandalized howl is the last thing he hears before the line goes silent, and he’s alone again, with the most shit-eating smirk on his face.

The other librarian boy — Ben, he learned when the ambulance arrived — stayed at the library, and Richie was secretly happy to accompany Stan to the hospital alone, although he insisted a couple of times that Richie doesn’t need to.

Richie’s stomach growls and he needs a fag asap, but there’s no way he’s missing Stan. God only knows when he’s at the library again, and Richie needs…Richie needs to talk.

And when Stan, with a sling supporting his hand, walks out of the emergency room, Richie stands up, not being able to help a smile forming on his face.

“Don’t you have other things to do?” Stan asks him, but he’s not annoyed. He looks tired and disheveled, but still calm, and Richie notices that they’re both the same height. Stan’s all legs though, all legs and curls.

“You’re the most important one on the list,” Richie answers automatically, and Stan purses his lips, clearly unimpressed. His eyes glimmer brighter, though. “Hungry?”

Stan graciously arches his dark eyebrow.

“Are you—“ he cuts himself off, clearly thinking it’s a bad idea, but when Richie keeps waiting (politely, although he’s nervous as fuck, because hello to today’s third heart attack), he licks his lips and starts again. “Are you trying to ask me out?”

“Maybe?” thank God his voice sounds much, much more confident than he, in fact, is.

Richie probably needs to get comfortable with Stan needing a moment of silence to think good. Unlike other people that start…to ramble.

“Sorry, I’m just used to people leaving after waking up with me.”

Richie’s jaw hits the floor harder than that meteor hit the Earth and fucked up the dinosaurs. Go off, Stan the Man, go the fuck off.

And he doesn’t even look proud of himself. It’s as casual for him as it is for Richie to tell your dad a mom joke. For Heaven’s sake, who is this guy?

“Well,” Richie squeaks, feeling that his body is on again, as if something blew his fuse for a moment. “It’s not happening any time soon, pretty boy,” he points at Stan’s sling, “so I thought maybe I could try something different.”

“Like what?” he’s smiling now. Legit.

“A dinner? A couple of them? Maybe films? Although I’ll have to be careful with this one, your shoulders are fragile now.”

Stan’s smile becomes even wider as Richie continues to ramble, and although it’s not the brightest and sunniest smile he’s ever seen, it sure feels like the most precious one. It feels like a reward.

It still feels like the most precious reward, weeks later, when they finally wake up together and Richie only leaves to pee and to make them a coffee. Months later, when Richie lets his hand slide down Stan’s shoulder and feels the slightest crook to his collarbone with the tips of his fingers. Years later, after some shitty horror film about some monster clown who eats kids, when he proposes in that empty cinema auditorium, in those exact seats.

Stan still needs a minute to think good, but his burning, incandescent smile says everything Richie needs to know.

[mikeshanlon]

he’s all that: chapter two

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 5k

one | on ao3

summary:

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

—

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can’t even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners. also this chapter there is mentions to maggie being an alcoholic. 

a/n: hey! decided to post two weeks in a row just to get the ball rolling (which is why i still dont have all the chapters figured out as promised, my apologies). i'll probably start the every other week thing for next update (so chapter three should be up by march 4th). i would try to do every week but im a college student who has Stuff to do and also makes gifs and im horrible at finishing my writing so, giving myself a realistic deadline that will still hopefully produce quality work. anyways, richie and eddie finally interact this chapter! it's.......................  a bit messy though. and we get to see the rest of the losers club in this one too. 

tag list:  @richietoaster, @wintersember, @howellhxlic, @ed-txzier, @clara-farl3y

After standing in the hallway arguing with Bev for ten minutes, (“I mean really Bevs, fuck!” “You said anyone.” “How do we even know he’s gay?!” “Richie, please.”) Richie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to find some way to charm Eddie. Maybe Beverly would let him borrow that spellbook she bought junior year when she had become obsessed with witchcraft and hexing the patriarchy.

Once school was finally over, Richie dropped off Mike at his farm per usual, ranting about the bet the whole ride over. The farm boy nodded along, but he knew the words ‘told you so’ sat on the tip of his tongue.  

They pulled up to his house, the engine idling so he wouldn’t have to spend time getting it to start again, “Don’t wait up for me tonight if you wanna smoke. Got lotsa research in store,” Richie said as Mike grabbed his backpack and got out of the car.

Mike raised a brow, leaning into the passenger window (which in its broken state always stayed down), “I’m surprised Rich. You never do your homework.”

“Homework shmomwork,” he tapped the end of his cigarette out the window before taking another drag, “Gotta figure out what little ol’ Edward likes. Time for some deep dark internet exploration.”

“Ah, you’re gonna stalk him. Wasting time on social media does sound much more in character,” Mike smiled.

“It’s not a waste Mikey darlin’, a shit ton of preemo dank is on the line.”

The other boy laughed and shook his head, “Godspeed Tozier.”

Richie saluted Mike as he reversed out back to the main road, Bigmouth Strikes Again blasting on the old car radio.

He weaved through the streets filled with kids walking home or trying to find something to do in this shit-hole town. Long afternoons spent at The Aladdin watching the newest releases or aggressively slamming his fingers down on his favorite game at the arcade came to mind; along with going out of his way to bother just about everyone in his path. Richie never really had many friends when he was younger, spending most of his time alone. He was grateful he crossed paths with Bev and Mike, to fate, luck, God if it existed. The universe was rarely kind to him, but finding them was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Plus, the first time he had smoked weed, but that was with them too.

Turning onto his street, Richie pulled up to the unsuspecting two-story white house. It was straight out of a handbook on the American Dream; but the closer one looked, the imperfections started to appear.

The box overflowing with bottles once filled with alcohol next to the recycling bin, which was already too full with more empty bottles. A crooked ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign by the front door. Dying grass, overgrown and conquered with the little weeds Richie used to make wishes on before blowing the seeds into the summer air (I wish for friends. I wish for better parents. I wish to be loved).

He parked the station wagon on the curb, saving the space next to his Mom’s car for his father.

Maggie’s car hadn’t been driven in months (years?), and Richie absently wondered if it would even work anymore. It was nice, a decent heater and it drove well, at least it did when she had bothered to drop him off at school as a kid. Despite her general lack of care for the wellbeing of others, Mrs. Tozier did not drink and drive. Meaning, she didn’t drive at all, as she was drunk off her ass most of the time.

Richie grabbed his books from the backseat and clambered out, fumbling to find his house key among the mess of weird keychains he bought while high.

He didn’t bother stating his presence, even as a pretense, giving up the habit long ago.

Maggie Tozier sat outside, her back facing the screen door in the kitchen. A cigarette rested from her fingertips, and Richie wasn’t sure if she was actually smoking it or just watching it burn. Of course, her other hand gripped a bottle of beer, and a wine cooler sat at her feet.

Richie scoffed and bounded up the stairs to his room, a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign and band posters adorning the door.

It was often said that one’s room reflected who they were as a person, and Richie was no exception. That is, to say, his room was an absolute fucking mess. His bed was never made, and clothes and knick knacks littered the floor (he had already tripped over some beat up sneakers as he walked in). Old mugs, comics, a lava lamp, lotion, and an ashtray Bev had made him in ceramics sat on his bedside table (read: an old wooden apple carton). The only thing that he kept clear was his record player and vinyls at the edge of the bed, which were meticulously organized.

He tossed his notebooks on his desk, alongside stolen pens, his laptop, and his bong. If his parents actually fucking talked to him he would bother to hide his shit, but it didn’t really matter.

Picking up his laptop and its charger, Richie was on his way out again. He could stay home to conduct his research, but he hated the stuffiness and how lifeless the house felt. It wasn’t really even a home, at least not his. Plus, coffee. It was a necessity, especially for the amount of bullshit he’d have to go through just for the tiny brat.

Richie drove to the Starbucks on Main and Belmont, strolling up to barista and ordering his usual: venti quadruple-shot, black. While he often gorged himself on sweets, his need for caffeine could only be sated by the purest form the coffeeshop could offer.

Per usual, the barista gave him a look, “You sure?”

“Listen, I’ve already made a shit ton of horrible decisions today. Trust me, this is not the worst of them,” Richie answered, sliding the cash across the counter

She raised her brows but said nothing else, handing him the change.

He set up shop at a table by the window in the back, away enough from the other patrons. Most of the time Richie threw caution to the wind, but he figured it would suspicious if someone saw him furiously stalking someone who looked like they hadn’t even graduated from middle school.

After retrieving his coffee, opening his MacBook, and plugging his headphones in, Richie scoured Instagram first. ‘Eddie.k’ didn’t post much, mostly some artsy photos, including ones of Bill and Stanley Uris (their other best friend). There were only one or two selfies, much to Richie’s disappointment. Eddie wasn’t actually too bad looking if you ignored his clothes, his hair, his… everything. Freckles dusted his face, concentrated around his little nose, a few on his lips. Cute lips. Cute cheeks. He had the urge to pinch them. But Jesus, that combover. What was he, a balding man in the 80’s?

Other than those pictures, Eddie hadn’t really posted to Instagram in months. He moved onto  his tagged photos. They had some more substance, although Eddie had pretty much only been tagged in pictures by Bill and Stan. It wasn’t like Richie wasn’t in the same boat of having only a few close friends, but at least he hung out with other people.

For the most part, the pictures were pretty normal, the three of them hanging out. Richie couldn’t help but snort at a picture of the three, presumably after a sleepover. They looked exhausted, hair messy, and were brushing their teeth. Pretty mundane, but Eddie had pulled a ridiculous face in the mirror. It was silly, but Richie hadn’t even thought Eddie was capable of making jokes or doing weird shit. The fucker was always uptight, serious even when they had a substitute. Unsurprisingly, Eddie did not appreciate the post.

eddie.k: literally stan delete this!!!!!!

stantheman: @eddie.k, sorry sweatie (:

Richie grinned and continued to scroll, stopping at a picture of Eddie lying down on the grass, laughing. He wore a red tracksuit, the one students wore to P.E. when the bitter chill of autumn came to Derry. His hair must’ve been a little sweaty, because it was curling up into a messy halo around his grinning face. Richie wanted to know this Eddie, see him curl up laughing, but he knew that would never happen.

He perused their profiles for a while before growing bored, downing a third of his coffee before moving on. Except Eddie didn’t seem to have a Twitter, or a Snapchat. A quick google search of his name only came up with a few images and… a Facebook profile?

Richie prayed that it was an old one Eddie had never deleted, but after the page loaded he saw that the most recent status was made last night.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whispered to himself.

Eddie’s profile picture made him look particularly child-like, a weird picture of him pointing to the camera like he was cool, even though the same hand had a clunky old watch wrapped around it. His header picture displayed the quote ‘there is bravery in being soft’.

Richie snorted, “Yeah, a soft fucking dick!”

Another patron scoffed at his fowl mouth, and he shot her a smug grin.

Eddie only had 40 friends on the site, which consisted of Bill, Stan, some of the other nerds at Derry High, and his mother and her friends. It wasn’t like someone’s Facebook friends actually mattered, especially because only middle aged mothers who posted minion memes about their alcoholism used it anymore, but it was still kinda pitiful.

His posts were generally uninteresting, stuff like ‘super nervous for the math test’, or ‘soooooooooooo bored ://///’. Otherwise, he mostly just shared pictures of cute dogs and DIY videos.

It was hard to find any useful information on Eddie, since he obviously lied a lot. Not in the way of bragging, or saying that he did things he didn’t (like Richie did). But there were comments from Mrs. Kaspbrak’s friends calling him a lady killer, or a few posts calling Carly Rae Jepsen cute (please, Run Away With Me is the one of gayest songs of all time). Eddie was closeted, and Richie knew from experience that someone could never really be themselves around others if they weren’t out.

What his profile lacked in useable information, it more than made up with blackmail material.

Take, for instance, little Eddie in possibly the gayest fucking hat imaginable.

He screeched as he saw the picture of the eleven year old, a white fedora-bucket hat hybrid sitting atop his tiny head, before breaking out into a full on wheeze. Richie was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and then he thought about Eddie using his inhaler in that gay ass hat and laughed even harder.

The other customers began to stare, some concerned, and others pissed off at the disturbance.

Once he had collected himself somewhat, Richie sent a screenshot to the group chat.

the losers

bev: oh my fucking G O D

richie: I CANT FUCKIN BREATHE ELRNKKLNERG

richie: LIKE F U C K !!! KLJKLGRJKLLEJK

richie: LOOK AT HIS GAY HAT

richie: LIKE, IT’S GAYER THAN WEARING NOTHING BUT A PRIDE FLAG AND GLITTER

richie: HE LOOKS LIKE A TWINKY SKIPPER

richie: HOW IS THAT HAT MORE GAY THAN EVERY SINGLE ONE RYAN EVANS WORE IN THE ENTIRE HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL FRANCHISE COMBINED

bev: i’m muting you

mike: me too

mike: also that hat isn’t that bad

“‘Not that bad?!’” Richie squawked, not that he’d be able to hear him.

(Really, Richie had no authority on the subject. He still donned the occasional Hawaiian shirt over his tees).

He refreshed Eddie’s profile, seeing that he had made a new status.

Eddie Kaspbrak: big night friday, nervous but excited !!!!

Richie raised his brows in intrigue, seeing that Bill and a handful of other people liked the status. What was going on Friday?

He checked to see if Bill had posted anything, if Eddie was going somewhere, chances were Bill was too.

Bill Denbrough: almost the weekend, finally ready to let loose

Seriously, it would’ve been so much easier if Bill was the guy Richie had to woo. Kid was probably fucking nervous for a party, a place where you threw caution to the wind and had a good time. Still, he made a mental note about finding out what their Friday plans were.

Richie sighed, taking another swig of his coffee, “God, what a fucking loser.”

Suddenly, his headphones were being tugged out of his ear by an angry middle-aged woman with short-layered hair and eye bags.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Richie glared, snatching back his headphones.

The woman returned the look, putting her hands on her hips, “Don’t you have respect for the other customers?!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t have respect for myself, let alone some PTA moms-- like the post-divorce haircut by the way.”

Apparently, his finger guns did not soften the blow, because the lady started to scream at him.

And, apparently, this lady was also the manager, and was pushing him out the door.

So great, Eddie and his dumb gay hat got him banned from Starbucks.

Even though he was wounded from Eddie’s betrayal, (because Richie getting kicked out was definitely not his fault-- it was Eddie’s homosexual headwear. An anthropomorphic device of chaos, that Eddie owned, so, yeah, it was Kaspbrak’s fucking fault.) Richie still skipped smoking on Thursday to spend his lunch with the tiny fuck.

Obviously, they hadn’t made plans to do so, but Richie had, and he really couldn’t delay starting the bet. There was a lot on the line.

So, after getting out of econ (turning in an unstudied for but probably aced quiz), and throwing his shit in his locker, Richie detoured to the cafeteria.

The place was a fucking mess, and it reminded Richie just why he avoided the place. It was pure chaos, loud and overwhelming, a million things to get distracted by. Freshman with their stupid rolling backpacks kept whizzing by, making Richie trip or get his feet ran over. The tables were already filled, the honor roll kids, the partiers, Gretta and her gang. Fucking cliches.

He got in line, picking up a tray and proceeding to fiddle with the buttons at the cuff of his black and white flannel; trying to tune out the buzz of conversation. It was weird, at parties he thrived on the noise and disorder, but here all it was doing was fucking with his ADHD.

Richie drummed a beat onto his tray as the line moved forward and picked the most edible looking slop from the menu. The lunch lady glowered at him as he reached for his money only to realize he had put it in the other pocket, fumbling to put the bills and coins on the counter.  

As she put the money in the register, Richie looked around the room, checking to see where Eddie was sitting. He was sat near one of the exits, carefully taking out his lunch and swinging his legs. And he was alone. Perfect.

“Kid, do you want a receipt or not?” the lunch lady snapped from across from him.

Richie blinked back into focus, “Uh, sure, sorry.”

She sighed and printed out the receipt, slamming it down on the tray, “Next!”

Grabbing his tray, Richie plucked up some plastic cutlery and made his way through the sea of students to Eddie Kaspbrak. He had to twist and lift his tray a bit, but eventually the crowds started to part a bit. A chorus of whispers started to erupt. Stupid small town.

“Is that Richie Tozier?”

“I think, but doesn’t he always get high with his stoner friends?”

“What is he doing here?”

“God, he’s so hot.”

Richie smirked, sending a wink at the girl’s praise before sitting across from Eddie. He watched for a moment as the boy continued to focus on on unpacking his utensils and napkins before clearing his throat.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up from his lunchbox, widening when he saw Richie.

“What the fuck?” It was meant to be a whisper to himself, but Eddie’s voice was louder than expected.

Richie grinned at the blushing boy, “Well, hello to you to Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, returning to his food.

Richie waited for him to say something else, at least fucking look at him, but the little fuck kept his eyes glued to his grapes, nails aggressively ripping the fruit from their stems.

“Okay,” he started, taking a sip of his apple juice, “So, you may be wondering why I’m sitting with you—“

Eddie interrupted, annoyance apparent in every fiber of his being, “Is this gonna be quick or not?”

“I’m hoping it’s not quick, although given how hot I am it’s difficult for people to control themselves.”

A long, deep sigh came from Eddie’s (cute, soft) lips. Eddie grabbed at Richie’s hands, flipping them over so that the palms faced upwards.

“Wow, a bit forward, but I’m liking your style Kaspbrak,” Richie winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes and proceed to take out hand sanitizer from his fanny pack, squirting the floral scented product into Richie’s hands.

Honestly, what the fuck?

He must’ve sent the same message to Eddie with his face, because Eddie said, “You obviously aren’t gonna leave me the fuck alone, and if you’re gonna be in my space, you need to be clean.”

Richie raised a brow at this but rubbed the hand sanitizer into his hands anyways.

Jesus Christ, what a weird, defensive little bitch.

Eddie watched with focused eyes, and only spoke when Richie was finished.

“Continue.”

It took a moment for Richie to gain his bearings once more. This mission seemed dead on arrival, but he had to keep trying anyways.

“So, Eddie…” Richie trailed off, twirling the pasta on his plate before his eyes lit up, “Eddie Spaghetti, Eduardo, what’s up?”

Eddie scowled, “That’s not my fucking name!” he squeaked, “And ‘what’s up?’ I mean, we’ve barely even talked before. You think I’m just gonna put up with this because you’re Richie Tozier? I swear to god, if this is some fucking bullying thing...”

Around them, people began to stare and eavesdrop at the sound of Eddie yelling. Fucking perfect.

Richie blinked back at the boy across from him, now red in the face for a different reason, “Calm down, I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

Okay, wow. Richie had more work cut out for him than expected. He thought of what to say next as he watched Eddie finish his grapes.

“This isn’t, like, a joke,” (it wasn’t real either), “I just wanna hang out.”

“Hang out?” Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes met Richie’s, his tone mocking.

Richie nodded, “Yeah, ya know, kick it with the homies. Make out a little if you’re down. Friend stuff.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, “You’re unbelievable. Just fucking unbe— you know, how can you even say any of that shit? How can we be ‘homies’ if we’ve never ‘hung out’ before? And don’t want to-- I’m not-- you don’t know me!”

There was something underlying in Eddie’s voice as he snapped, wavering at the end. Richie, like most things in life, was completely and utterly fucking up.

“Well then, how about we fix that?” Richie leaned forward, “I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna—“

Abruptly, Eddie stood up, grabbing his food and walked off, making his way towards the cafeteria line where Bill and Stan were paying for their lunch.

Richie looked around at all the watching faces, some snickering and others as shocked as he was.

“...Embarrass me horribly in front of all these people.”

He took a deep breath, and shoved some spaghetti in his mouth, his frown growing larger at the disgusting taste. Richie was often considered a wild card, but this was when routine was a good thing. He should’ve just avoided this and sparked up with Bev and Mike.

Actually, he was going to do just that. There was still some left in lunch, and no reason for him to stay in the cafeteria if Eddie was giving him the cold shoulder. More like a giant fucking iceberg but still, pointless. Besides, he really needed to get high now. Eddie ruined his whole mood and pissed him the fuck off.

Richie got up and tossed out the inedible garbage before going to the usual spot, finger itching for a joint.

He used his foot to push open the door, which would’ve been cool, except with his clumsiness and horrible luck he tripped forward, narrowly avoiding falling down the steps and face planting by grabbing the railing.

As Richie caught his breath and stabilized himself, he could hear his friends laughing.

“Back so soon?” Bev smirked knowingly, taking a drag.

Richie huffed, “Ha ha. Let’s yuck it up for my misfortune,” he grabbed her joint and took a long hit, “This fucking kid, Bev. I don’t think I can do this!”

“As in, you’re morally incapable of leading him on?” Mike asked hopefully.

“Please, let’s be realistic here Mikey. No, that kid is like, the fuckin devil incarnate. Shithead is fucking crazy!” Richie paced, smoking from the joint.

Bev laughed, “What makes you say that?”

“Why don’t ya ask the whole fucking school?” Richie snapped, though the anger wasn’t directed at her, “They were watching it all go down. If that wheezy asshole ruins my reputation—“

“What reputation?” Mike interjected.

Richie rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

Another voice spoke up, “I dunno, Richie’s pretty well known. I like him well enough.”

Richie whirled around, just noticing a new face among the usual group, Ben Hanscom.

The eternal new kid, since no one ever moved to ass backwards Derry, was not someone he’d expect to be behind the art building. Maybe reciting poetry or some shit, but not blazing. Ben was sweet and genuine, albeit a little shy. He was no longer the chubby kid he once was, more stocky and muscular now. They weren’t too close, as the tawny haired boy spent more time with Mike and Bev, and if not them, the other dorks (like Eddie and his friends). But either way, dude was pretty chill. Richie just didn’t really want him there mid-meltdown.

“Haystack?! You smoke?!” he whistled, “Ho-ly shit, who woulda thought!”

Ben shook his head, “Uh, no I don’t. Mike and I just had to study for history next block.”

His deep brown eyes flitted to Beverly, who had now stolen back her joint and was playing with the key that hung from her neck. Yeah, studying was the only reason. Not Ben’s excruciatingly obvious crush on the red head.

“We would’ve just gone to the library, but Bev and I made a bet about if you’d be successful or not today,” Mike said.

Richie gasped, “Betting on my failure? Fuck you guys, Benny Boy is my new best friend.”

“I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Hey, I bet on you succeeding,” Mike put his hands up in surrender, “She’s the one who thought you’d screw it up.”

“And I was right. Pay up,” Bev smiled, holding out her palm.

Mike dropped a candy bar in it with a deep sigh. She tore open the wrapping, taking a savage bite of the chocolatey sweet.

“I think you have a gambling problem,” Mike quipped.

Bev shrugged, “Not a problem if I keep winning.”

She grinned, her teeth covered in chocolate and spit. Gross. Ben still looked enraptured. Double gross.

“Anyways, can we focus on the important bet, and the fact that this fuck is impossible! Seriously, Bev, babygirl, pick anyone else!” Richie whined, plopping his bony ass on the cement.

“First off, don’t call me ‘babygirl’,” she flicked the ash off the end of the joint at him, “Second, the deal was anyone. You either woo him or you don’t.”

Richie opened his mouth to complain again but Ben beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?”

The other three looked at each other in panic. Ben was friends with Eddie, there was no way he could find out what was going on. The whole thing would be ruined before it started.

“Nothin!” Richie squeaked, “Just uh… bet that I couldn’t ace a group project. I usually just bullshit a lot of that stuff and leave it up to the others if I can. Partner’s just a little… high strung.”

Bev groaned and Mike sighed. A horrible fucking lie. Richie was already trying to formulate a better one in his head.

Ben smiled, “That’s nice, a wholesome, supportive bet. But you really should just communicate with your partner. They might be nervous because of your history is all.”

Richie let out a sound of relief before realizing Ben’s advice could actually be helpful.

“Sure, but I already tried to talk to him and it didn’t go well,” he explained.

Bev and Mike raised their brows, catching on.

“Well, how did you talk to him?” Ben asked, “Was it an ambush or a friendly conversation?

Bev snorted, “Ambush, knowing Richie. He doesn’t do friendly conversations.”

“Maybe with you, because you’re on my ass all the time,” Richie shot back, “But uh, she’s right. Shouldn’t matter though, everyone knows that’s how Tough Guy Tozier does his business.”

Mike groaned, “Please don’t call yourself that ever again.”

“You’re just coming on too strong. You have to consider what he likes, what he wants. A good partnership comes with compromise and communication,” Ben nodded sagely.

Richie ruffled his hair, putting on his trusty British voice, “Thank you Advisor Hanscom. Your wisdom is greatly appreciated.”

Ben smiled awkwardly, his eyes going to Bev once again, “Course.”

He took the joint from Bev, inhaling the musty smoke and blowing it out his nostrils, the burning sensation familiar and welcome.

“And maybe, you should talk to him sober next time,” Mike suggested.

Richie laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

By the time the final bell rang, he was still feeling defeated and unsure of his next move. Sure, he’d have to dial back his trashmouth charm, try to seem actually invested in Eddie but… that wasn’t going to happen if the brat never talked to him again. Richie had to find a way to break the tension between them, start fresh.

He sulked to his locker, pulling out his shit from the looming mess. Loose binder paper and pencils fell onto the ground, and Richie just wanted to bang his head against the wall of metal. Also, go home and smoke while playing video games but, mostly, hit his head repeatedly. Maybe he’d lose enough brain cells to forget the entire day.

After a few moments of excessive cursing, Richie grabbed what he needed and got everything that fell back into the locker. He noticed a new post it on the door just before he closed it.

Don’t give up :) <3 - mike

Richie smiled, and slammed the locker shut with a resounding clang. With a little stretch and a fix of his glasses, he strolled through the halls, making his way to the parking lot to wait for Mike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill and Stan loitering around the halls as well, engaged in (an undoubtedly boring) conversation.

He remembered Bill and Eddie’s facebook status’ about exciting plans for tomorrow night and decided he should investigate.

“Billiam! Staniel!” Richie called as he approached them, “What’s up?”

The two stopped talking and looked up, Bill smiling while Stan rolled his eyes.

“H-hey, Richie,” Bill waved.  Richie noted that his stutter had gotten a lot better just over the past year. The two of them had shared a few classes when they were juniors and were pretty friendly with one another. At least compared to his relationship with Eddie and Stan, who also seemed to hate him for no reason.

Speaking of, the prim and proper boy was glaring at him, “Didn’t get enough of being a nuisance at lunch?”

Richie raised a brow, “Whatever do you mean?”

Stan scoffed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Bill put a hand on his shoulder, “N-nothing. Stan’s just… on edge. What’s up w-with you?”

“Not much, just trying to figure out what my plans are for tomorrow,” Richie shrugged, “Got any suggestions?”

“The only thing on your mind is where to party? Not surprised,” Stan quipped.

Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, biting his tongue. Snapping at Eddie was what caused his whole operation to go south, and he couldn’t mess up this second chance.

Bill ignored the tension between them, “Well, usually w-we don’t do t-t-too m-much, but it’s s-senior year. Probably going to Peter Gordon's party.”

“That kid’s an ass.”

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Stan commented, his arms crossed.

His grinned, “Well, yeah, I am Rich.”

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, he is, but he’s also s-super wealthy,” Bill avoided another ‘rich’ pun, “Meaning he’ll h-h-ave q-q-quality shit.”

Richie beamed, “Ah, I get it. You’re Robin Hood-ing that fuck. I like your style Billy Boy.”

He clapped Bill on the shoulder, and the other boy blushed slightly, “W-well, it wasn’t j-just my idea. Eddie and Stan helped.”

“Eddie? He’s coming with you guys?”

Bill shook his head, “N-no. He was supposed to, b-b-but that art thing came up so he h-had to cancel.”

“Art thing?” Richie asked, suddenly intrigued. This was the information he wanted.

“Yeah,” Bill nodded, “It’s this show that happens every month. At Jester Theatre. He always goes.”

Stan not so subtly elbowed Bill in the ribs, hissing at him to shut up.

“W-what?!”

“Yeah, what’s got your steamed panties in a twist Uris?” Richie smirked.

Stan sent him a scowl, “You know very well Tozier. Eddie told us all about what you did at lunch. Back the fuck off.”

“S-stan, I don’t think he meant--”

“No, Bill, he did,” Stan interrupted, “I don’t know what your game is, but if you hurt him…”

Richie put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I’m not going to hurt him. He seems pretty strong anyways. I mean no harm.”

Stan didn’t look convinced at all. Fair enough.

The air between the two was tense, but Bill broke it by clearing his throat, “So, uh, will w-we see you at the p-p-party?”

Richie shook his head ‘no’, “Probably not. I have some more sophisticated plans lined up.”

a/n: hope you liked it! next chapter is p much all richie and eddie so get excited. if you enjoyed i would love hearing your feedback

oh and this is eddie’s gay hat if you were curious

[vantemei]

Taehyung sort of, kind of, maybe wants to die. It’s seven twenty in the morning on a wednesday and he has a cadaver lab in two hours. Not to mention he was up all night studying for the neurology test he has on friday. Being a medical student at 21 isn’t easy but it’s his dream so he’ll stick with it.

That doesn’t make him feel any better right now though as he stands behind what’s clearly an intern getting coffee for his office judging by the long list in his hands that he’s stuttering out to the barista who looks like she’d rather be getting her spine ripped out right about now.

Taehyung makes eye contact and they share a bonding look of despair before she’s looking back down at the register and repeating the order back to the frazzled intern who follows along the list and looks relieved when he pulls out a company card and finally steps aside.

Taehyung finally steps up to the register and gives a sympathetic smile as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’d like a venti dark roast please. That’s all.” The barista looks at Taehyung like she wants to kiss him and has a small relieved smile on her face as she types it in.

“And a name for your order please?” “Taehyung.” “That will be five thousand won.” Taehyung holds his phone against the scanner and waits for the small ding of a confirmed payment before pulling at away and sharing a short, exhausted smile with the barista before turning away to wait for his coffee.

While he’s waiting Taehyung catches sight of himself in the window beside him and grimaces. His usually well styled blond hair is a windblown mess and he has the familiar purple dusting of bags under his eyes. Not to mention he’s dressed like he just rolled out of bed -which he did- in a big soft grey sweater and black nike running pants he has never even run a mile in.

Taehyung runs a hand through his bedhead to try and tame the wild ball of fluff at least a little and he almost misses his name being called and he gratefully accepts his drink, turning and making his way towards the door. He makes it about two meters away from the door when there’s suddenly a hand slapping his ass with the momentum of an angry gorilla and a voice yelling something that sounds like “Jin-hyung you ass! How could you leave me like that yesterday?”

Taehyung yelps as his steaming hot coffee splashes over his sweater, soaking into the thin material and scalding his poor skin.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’m so so sorry-oh my god i can’t believe i just did that- you’re not jin-hyung-oh my god im so sorry!”

Taehyung doesn’t pay attention to the frantic stranger in front of him as he sets the nearly empty now cup onto the nearest table and frantically tries to pull his drenched and now steaming sweater from his reddening skin. Napkins are suddenly wiping over his red skin trying to get the scalding liquid off his stomach and chest and Taehyung finally looks up at the stranger only to have his glare melt off his face. The stranger wiping at his chest is a guy that can’t be much older than him with soft looking black hair and the most full, pouty lips and soft skin Taehyung has ever seen. He looks like a prince and he also looks like he might cry as he finally looks up and freezes as he makes eye contact with Taehyung.

Jimin has seen some pretty attractive people in his short life of twenty one years. He’s seen Jeon Jeongguk, resident fuckboy of the vocal majors and over all heartthrob. He’s seen Jung Hoseok, the man with a smile like a thousand suns. He’s seen Ahn Hyejin who looks like she belongs to in a kpop group. But never before in his life has Park Jimin ever seen someone as beautiful as the boy he just splashed scalding hot coffee over.

His hair, which initially made his think it was his Jin-hyung and not some random fallen angel in a starbucks, was a soft blond halo that fell across his forehead and just above large, doll like eyes the color of sweet caramel with featherlike lashes that brushed the tops of his cheeks every time he blinked. God, even his skin looked like an angel. A golden, sun kissed angel that came right from the pages of a fairytale with plump, pink lips and the cutest nose Jimin had ever seen. There was a tiny little mole on the tip Jimin felt the overwhelming urge to kiss.

It took Jimin a full ten seconds to realize he was staring at the angel and it was probably a bit creepy at this point and he should probably buy him a new coffee to apologize for spilling his first one all over him.

“Uhm- I’m- I’m so sorry! I thought you were someone else. I’ll buy you a new coffee and pay for your clothes to get washed!” The angel looked Jimin and then back down at Jimin’s hands still pressing napkins onto his abdomen. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Jimin’s eyes followed the movement like lasers before he lost his breath entirely the moment the boy spoke.

“Um...it’s fine really, but could you move your hands? I think I’m dry now.”

The angel’s voice was deep and husky and Jimin felt himself get so much gayer in that split moment. Jimin finally seemed to realize that he had just been pressing his hands against the angel’s bare skin for almost forty seconds now and his cheeks flared red as more apologies flooded out of his mouth and he quickly pulled his hands away.

“It’s fine, really. I’ll just borrow a shirt from my friend.”

“No really, I insist, please let me at least buy you another drink!”

The angel seemed to mull it over, licking his lips again and giving Jimin a quick up and down before he smiled softly (he didn’t notice the soft gasp that left Jimin’s lips) and nodded. “Ok then. I’m Kim Taehyung and I drink a venti dark roast.”

Jimin had to take a minute to catch his breath, resisting the urge to clutch at his heart from how soft the angel, Taehyung, looked smiling down at him.

“Park Jimin. It’s nice to meet you,” Taehyung laughed a little. “Sadly I can’t say the same but I think it will be nice to know you.”

Jimin flushed again and Taehyung giggled, teasing his pink cheeks, not noticing the small victory fist Jimin formed by his side, one through going through his head as he looked over at the angel pouting slightly at his ruined sweater. ‘I’m gonna climb that like a tree’.